Closed Git Along, Little Dogie (Jasmine and Mere)

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The Wilderness of Cyphrus is an endless sea of tall grass that rolls just like the oceans themselves. Geysers kiss the sky with their steamy breath, and mysterious craters create microworlds all their own. But above all danger lives here in the tall grass in the form of fierce wild creatures; elegant serpents that swim through the land like whales through the ocean and fierce packs of glassbeaks that hunt in packs which are only kept at bay by fires. Traverse it carefully, with a guide if possible, for those that venture alone endanger themselves in countless ways.

Git Along, Little Dogie (Jasmine and Mere)

Postby Konrad Venger on January 22nd, 2017, 4:10 am

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It felt familiar, being among carnage again. As he cantered through the dried blood and festering bodies, the ruined wagons and animals slain, gutted and partially-consumed, Konrad had eyes only for what could profit him. After all, what was left to concern himself with?

Coyotes have to eat. So do the worms and crows and buzzards. Everything else? For us to-

A fuzzy blond orb stuck its head out from underneath a wheel-shattered wagon and Konrad's eyes narrowed instinctively. Just as instinctive was the mental calculation he made right afterwards. A woman, and small, without arms and mayhap wounded... not a concern. She was in no position to stop them turning over their cavalcade of potentil booty. If she did, well...

Konrad ached all over. His wounds were still healing, still bound and throbbed... but one little girl wouldn't stop him. The only issue were the-

"If not Drykas, she is slave to Drykas, understand?"

Surprise. That's what first struck him, as he turned and gaped at The Dark One, wearing something close to the avaricious expression he did. Irritation was clear in her voice, chopped and unfamiliar as Common was to it. Same thoughts as him, he knew. Just an unfortunate obstacle.

But one easily remedied, he thought, and he smiled crookedly as the dark Drykas went over to where The Light One was fussing over the survivor. And profitably, apparently.

But he did not follow Merevaika. All of them were standing among a collection of claims, and they were focused on the one that was moving, speaking, wanting. But she was far from the only thing to be had... and as he carefully, carefully dismounted, Konrad's street pragmatism reared its head and advised caution... and self-interest.

They might not even let you in on it, his mind whispered, reminding him that he was an outsider, a wahlak, barely tolerated. It would be the same back home: you didn't get a cut unless you were proven in the gang; anything else, and you got a handout. Maybe. Better to mind what you can claim with your own two hands. They want to get in your face about those? Well... they're welcome to try and take them.

That reassured him, too. His hands flexed into fists, the metal on his body seemed to press a little closer to him... and the he was moving.

Swift and stooping, an old dance known and familiar to him from a thousand street brawls, gang skirmishes, ambushes, raids and killings. Well, their aftermath, at any rate. He crouched over the nearest body and started turning out pockets, feeling down legs-

Her eyes gazed and her mouth gaped. Scream still captured on it. Not her son. Not her husband. Not her.

-cursing softly as he smeared blood on his fingers, wiping it on a shredded blouse there. Nothing there, but... ah, the body next to her. A man. Much more likely to have some coin to him. He stepped over the eviscerated woman and subjected the corpse to the same treatment. Tossed a small purse in the air and caught it with a little "heh!" of victory-

They were eating them. Piss ran down his legs as he ran but he had to get away. No, no, they were on him, they were ripping, tearing, biting, and he could not stop them.

On he moved to a wagon, fallen on its side and with all it held scattered, like some child's toy kicked over and spilled without care. Tough fingers traced the white, fresh scars that claws had made. His brows rose a touch and he remembered rending teeth, the bodies feasted on. That and these marks...

Zith, he thought, starting to comb through the wreckage. Not bandits or Drykas. They don't care much about shiny stuff, at least no usually. Food and slaves. Hence all the... eating.

He growled, greedy hands finding nothing value. Best to stick with the bodies. Men carried purses, and some women, too. More chance to find coin there than stuffed in the wagons... and if not, he'd get to them after. He walked around the wagon, hearing the Dark One fire away with her questions like arrows with lethal intent. Konrad couldn't help but smirk: the bitch certainly wasn't sugar-coating it. Oddly enough, he approved.

Best to break her quick and not have her panic on the way back. More trouble to deal with.

His feet crunched on something unfamiliar and he looked down-

"... well, petch me runnin'."

Curved and half-covered by mud and blood, stamped half into the ground by mindless feet or wagon wheels, Konrad looked down at what was... yes, definitely a kukri. His hand went to the sheath at the small of his back in memory, only finding the curved leather holder sadly empty. Sodding Three Eyes was the reason. He'd have preferred to have thrown it into him days before, but had to settle with his horse's throat.

Did the job, though. Robbed him of his mount, gave him a chance to pounce on the bastard. But he'd still lost it. Came to with Pridesun and his flock with everything else on him... except his kukri.

He bent down and a hand moved near it. He followed the bloody limb and saw a man, thinning hair and sallow features and a wound in his chest that sucked and bubbled with every breath. Konrad watched mutely as his lips worked uselessly, and then:

"Pluh... Pleh... Hel... Help... mehUKH-"

The last croak came out coated with blood. It spilled and dribbled and Konrad knew the man... well... a season ago, he would have said the man was dead. Just hadn't caught up with his body, yet. But as he perused the wounds, the blood, the muscles exposed and guts still throbbing in his wounds, he wondered if he'd looked any better when Jonas found him. Endrykas was barely a half-bell away. Three people, three mounts, even with a prisoner... it wasn't impossible.

The thought lasted about four ticks in Konrad's head. Then he flicked a glance over the edge of the wagon and saw the women still questioning the slave.

"Ple... Please..." The man said, as he coughed blood and Konrad gripped his shoulder and picked up the kukri he'd tried and failed to defend himself with. "I... I cuhn't... it-"

"Shhhhh..."
Konrad hushed him, voice oddly gentle, catching his eyes and seeing the desperate hope swelling there. Drew his arm back and glanced down. "I'll help yeh."

"Th-Tha-"

Shhuuuk


Under the breastbone. Between the ribs were better, but the kukri was too thick. Instead Konrad flipped it around so the curve was facing upward, then cocked his arm as if to punch and then-

Metal blurred, silver and brown and red, until it vanished. Something crunched under it after it cleaved bloody cloth and slowly dying flesh. The man's eyes nearly bugged out of his head and his still-working hand flew to Konrad's shoulder. His eyes begged. His mouth worked but no words came, no life save for more leaked, scarlet liquid.

Konrad shoved harder. Up to the hilt. Then twisted. The man shuddered, but his grip... gods, it was strong.

They all fight. In that last tick. Who wouldn't?

But wanting did not make it so. The man went limp, eyes still open, and Konrad drew the kukri out of him. Blood coated it, dripped from it, and he wiped it with two quick gestures on one of the few remaining clean patched on the man's breeches. Then he reached behind and... ah, yes... fit back in there just as smoothly as when he'd owned his last one.

"Yer welcome."

He went through his pockets, relieved him of a purse and went on his way without a backward glance.

Gods, is she still going on?

Konrad was not a hard man to miss. Surrounded by the dismembered and despairing dead, lives shattered in some desolate place not even the gods could find them, and half of Konrad's face was cocked into a smile. Sloane could looked up from her two inquisitors and see him approach. Tall, much taller than them. Black hat and black duster and white shit, bottomed off by boots with faded steel caps. Kopis swinging lightly at his belt, the very picture of-

Then the man would pause. Smile falling, twisted into a suppressed snarl as that petching stomach wound flared up again. Petching Three Eyes. May the hells sodding rend him, and save Konrad a piece for when he got there. He pressed a hand to his stomach and waited for it to subside. By the time it did, his breath was still short, words measured and clipped by effort.

"If yer sellin' her, I want me cut," he said without preamble, catching Merevaika's attention. He wondered if the other one even knew about her partner's plans for slavery. Well, she was outvoted now, anyway. "Three a' us? Three parts. I get one."

He simplified, not knowing if the Drykas could even understand all of what he said. Then he took another step, not looming, not threatening, but deciding to use... logic. Facts.

"Youse wouldnae even be out this way if not fer me an' that petchin' dog. So I think a parta' the price-" he nodded to the terrified girl, then forgot about her "-is fair nuff, eh?"

He waited for his answer, fingers looped into his belt, careful not to rest one on the hilt of his sword, like he wanted to. He was still wounded, and he knew it. Killing them both would take energy, time, and by the time one was down, who knew what stitching or dressing might spill open?

So Konrad waited for an answer, and reassured himself with his pockets heavier from of pilfered purses. He'd have those, regardless. Funny. He'd almost forgotten about the petching coyote.

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Note: As of Fall 517AV, Konrad is known only as "Hansel" in Endrykas
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Git Along, Little Dogie (Jasmine and Mere)

Postby Sloane on January 22nd, 2017, 12:35 pm

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Sloane's gaze followed the newcomers carefully as they approached, wary of any sign that they too might be about to attack. If they did she'd have no way to stop or fight them, but perhaps she'd have a chance to flee. All seemed well however, and Sloane allowed the first woman to grow closer without any word or action to convince her otherwise.

The woman thankfully spoke common, and Sloane took a deep breath before answering, glancing behind the Blonde to the other two, who had paused their horses to speak. "We were on our way to Riverfall." She answered finally, voice hoarse. "Zith attacked, just before dawn." Sloane let her gaze drift as the second woman, the brunette, spurred her horse closer. She and the blonde spoke quietly, and Sloane paid no attention, instead gazing across the clearing at the dead merchants she'd spent a large portion of the past season travelling with.

Her gaze snapped back to the brunette as she spoke, in common this time. "I haven't had a chance to check." She replied, voice growing short with frustration and fear. "I've already said, we were going to Riverfall. My name is Sloane." She pushed herself to her feet, feeling more comfortable being ready to move with such a large horse before her, ans strangers surrounding her. The colour drained from her face as the brunette continued to speak. Captive? Like a slave!? Her gaze darted between the women, the skin between her shoulder blades prickling uncomfortably as she realised the third member of the group, he scarred man, had wondered out of her field of vision.

For a long moment, Sloane considered running, taking off into the grasslands. It was a tempting thought, dangerously so, but ultimately she knew she'd never survive on her own. Her chances of survival were even slimmer if she was to attempt to fight these people; they were well armed, and Sloane carried nothing more than a shortbow, all her arrows crushed and broken under her when she'd fallen from the wagon, well before dawn.

Sloane scowled as the brunette asked after the valuables, hand tightening around her bow. "There's nothing here for you." She spat, furious that this stranger would go and steal from Sloane and her fellow travellers, after all the awful things that had happened here, and especially after she'd just told Sloane that her freedom was being taken from her.

The scarred man returned, and Sloane pinned him with her glare as well, eye's only sharpening with rage. "You can't just trade me off like livestock!" She growled, though why specifically they couldn't, she wasn't so sure. They had to know that it was her only option, to come with them, and yet they didn't seem to care that they were forcing her into and impossible decision; go and loose her freedom, or stay and loose her life. Sloane's eye's fell shut a moment and she felt despair claw at her like sharp fingers.

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Git Along, Little Dogie (Jasmine and Mere)

Postby Jasmine Stormblood on February 15th, 2017, 4:34 am

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“Riverfall? You guys were way off from there,” Jasmine said stunned to know how far the group had been off.

The blonde ignored the scarred man as he skirted around them looking for things to pick up. Merevaika provided a fair point. No matter what the woman would like to do with the scared blonde, the city has rules. Growling the blue eyes glared at the man, the hair on the back of her neck standing up. She did not fully trust him and would not until he proved himself to her. Turning around the woman worked to calm the other blond down not knowing the extent of injuries or how long she had been without food and water.

“Easy easy. Calm down before anything happens you will need to be taken to the River Flower and get checked out. Once you are cleared then we can discuss what will happen next. But I will warn you, without a family or pavilion,” Jasmine signed home, “you will most likely be sold as a slave. It not something that would normally go over well with me, but our cultures rules will dictate the actions to come.”

The young woman wanted her to know that it was not always like that. Helping her up the blonde turned to look at the others with a hard stare. She was not fond of how the male had been so callous to the young girl before them. Merevaika had not been nearly so rude or offensive. Gently looking back to the girl who looked half starved Jasmine offered her to return to Endrykas with them.

“I have some dried meat and water with me. Would you like some?” Jasmine asked gently.
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Git Along, Little Dogie (Jasmine and Mere)

Postby Merevaika on February 20th, 2017, 11:46 am

Merevaika


The ugly thing was already on the corpses like a vulture, scrambling between the bodies and blood with his eyes searching for one thing. Beat her to it. She'd have to stake her claim on anything he found. That bag of coins. The weapon. Anything else he had discovered when her eyes hadn't been watching him, well aware that he had ample opportunity to run and leave them without the treasures.

Her attention floated back to the slave, who was snapping at her now. Sloane. Riverfall. No time to check. Slowly, the colour drained from her, Merevaika keeping her face as emotionless as possible. It wasn't a life she would want for herself, but this woman wasn't Drykas. And to the city, that meant she wasn't anything. This was best for both of them. It always had been.

The woman tightened her grip around her bow, Merevaika's eyes flickering over towards it. A nice one, not the newest, but not the worst quality either. No arrows to accompany it, but that wasn't a good enough reason to let her have it. It would only endanger them all. The horse and rider stepped forward, until the huge mass was almost touching the woman. "The bow. Now." A hand lay outstretched, waiting to be given it. Warning her that she was going to get it either way.

The ugly walahk returned, speaking of his share of the cut, and the Drykas sent him a cold stare, warning him not to try to be clever. "You share the purses, the money, and I will think about it." Rather, she would make sure he got the smallest amount possible, but enough to keep him happy. What would he want? She hoped he knew his place.

Jasmine returned to the calm, caring person she was, trying to help Sloane relax and go along with them calmly. Offering her food and water. All that nonsense. Merevaika stirred on her horse, waiting impatiently for the little interaction to play out before they could do what they wanted. Her eyes flickered back over the corpses, over the wagon, searching on last time for riches she could put her claim on to.

Then she pulled Eryunt back, wondering whether they would have to walk the horses slowly beside her or if one of the other two would take her on theirs. And they still had a coyote to hunt. Would that be happening any time soon? A measly coyote was nothing compared to a slave, but she could tell that at least the walahk was the greedy type to take anything he could get his dirty ugly hands on.

"We must go now." Her words were cold, bored, and hinting a slight annoyance at the time it was taking for this to happen. "Do not moan. Just come. It will be easiest for you." Her hands traced intricate patterns onto her weapons, tapping each lightly in a nonchalant way of warning. Before turning on her horse and clicking her teeth, feeling Eryunt move from the dead gratefully. She rose up the hill very slightly, testing Sloane and how stubborn she would be, before looking back on everyone. If there was trouble at that point, she wouldn't just be warning.


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Git Along, Little Dogie (Jasmine and Mere)

Postby Konrad Venger on February 21st, 2017, 1:08 am

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"Youse'll come like a good liddle girl, or I'll drag yeh back behind me horse."

The words came with a growl that was barely human, and rust pointed Sloane's way. That's what it looked like, anyway: gleaming red rust on an ill-used blade, but she could guess that was not what it was. The kukri was back in the scarred man's hand and pointed her way like it was an extension of him. Like using it would be as simple as waving a hand to squash a fly.

The blonde was too gentle. Konrad mused that were it not for him, this would be the most civil act of enslavement in history. They were all but asking her sodding permission. Well, not him. Not after a decade or two working contracts on Slaver's Row, and certainly not after two seasons as an enforcer for the Radackes, most brutal of the Kenash Dynasties.

They knew how to break their slaves, and the most important rule was the simplest: the livestock had to understand they had no petching choice in the matter.

"Yuh've goda' bow n' no arrows," he said again, waiting until he had her wide-eyed attention before snarling on. "No horse, no other weapon. Yuh can't run, or fight, so yeah, we can do whut we likes wiv' ya." He took a step. Just one. Enough to send a flinch rippling through her. "They's bein' nice, darlin'. I ain't. Now stop yer petchin' aroun' 'fore I brain ya roun' the skull n' throw y'over the back a' my horse."

He didn't think it would take long to break her. Pleasant and warm as she was, the blonde was a gem: beautiful, but hardened. The brunette? Pah. Solid stone, that bitch. But looking at Sloane, Konrad saw naught but a clay creature, with soft hands and watery eyes.

Fresh words flew through the air, this time directed at him, and Konrad flicked the kukri in Merevaika's direction. A few ticks later, his gaze followed the blade.

"One fing ain't the other, sweetheart." He somehow made the endearment sound like a very different word for a lady, and sheathed his blade with a smirk. "An' I dint see yous on yer hoofs, scramblin' through pockets, doin' the petchin' work, so nah, I dun' think you'll be gettin' shyke y'din't earn."

He knew he was pushing it, and didn't care. The threats to the girl, the snapping at the Drykas like a rabid dog... he'd been sullen and silent too many days, healing up and keeping his gaze downcast as his body betrayed him. Now he was back, and outside the stifles of Endrykas. Now this hard-eyed bitch was dictating terms to him? For shyke she didn't even have a hand in gaining?

Out of her sodding mind...

Again she spoke, and Konrad followed it. Not Jasmine's drivel about food for the girl; he didn't notice, but he made almost the same annoyed, impatient face as Merevaika did when the blonde talked soft and sweet to the girl, like a spooked horse she was calming. Merevaika scanned the horizon and spoke and Konrad surprised her by grunting his agreement.

"Aye, she's right." He switched back to his truly abysmal Pavi, pointing at the sky. "Syna go not long. Dark. Bad. We go. Take girl. Now."

He let the words sink in, and the four of them regarded each other out on the desolate plain. Death and ashes around them. Konrad's hand drumming a quick tattoo on his belt... not far from his kopis. His antennae were up and twitching, street senses telling him something dark and nasty was coming... and considering the description, it would probably involve him.

"Have to go. Find coyote. Go Endrykas."

Don't Make Me Repeat Myself.

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Git Along, Little Dogie (Jasmine and Mere)

Postby Sloane on February 25th, 2017, 12:22 pm

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Sloane's eye's pinned the other blonde with an angry stare, frustrated beyond words that the other woman was going along with the other's so easily. For a moment Sloane had thought that she'd possibly be able to befriend her, gain herself an ally, but her easy deference to the other two crushed those hope's instantly. Sloane pulled away from her helping hand and crossed her arms tightly across her chest, hesitating ever so slightly as she offered her food and water. Her mouth was dry, her lips cracked and she knew she needed water if she wanted to last much longer, but she was still as stubborn and prideful as usually, unwilling to concede that she needed any help from these people.

"Water." She finally said, stiffly, eye's darting between the three like a trapped animal. And then the brunette was holding out her hand expectantly, demanding Sloane hand over her weapon. The young woman glared up at her, hands tight and tense where they held the bow, refusing to flinch, even as the horse was led forward until it was almost touching her. The bow was important to Sloane, a weapon held close to her heart and one of the few belongings that had survived the Zith attack undamaged. It was one of the first bows she'd crafted, helped along closely by her father years ago, and it was those sentimental thoughts and memories that gave her pause. After a long, silent moment her gaze hardened and she handed the bow over. "If you lose it, damage it, anything... Gods trust I'll make you regret it." She snapped finally.

Finally, her attention turned to the scarred man as he growled at her, his blade thrust out in her direction. Sloane straightened up, arms unfolding from around her and her hands fisting at her sides as she glared at him, grey eyes flaming with anger. "I'd like to see you try." She spat back at his threats, confident that the other two wouldn't allow him to hurt her, and potentially ruin any profit she might fetch. The man turned to the brunette then, and the two began to argue over the other findings. Sloane tuned them out, turning to pace with rapid jerky steps as she waited for what the group was going to do next.

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Git Along, Little Dogie (Jasmine and Mere)

Postby Jasmine Stormblood on March 15th, 2017, 3:03 pm

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Sorry yall it fell down in my que

Jasmine nodded and whistled loudly to her strider. Chaser’s ears perked up hearing his rider call him, before making his way through the mass of bodies. The horse had learned long ago that the young woman was not fond of him stepping on the dead. It was a huge disrespect in the Drykas culture, if not in other cultures as well. Standing up the young female met the horse just a short distance away. Digging through the yvas bags it took several chimes to find the water skin. Finally producing the pouch, she also grabbed some dried meat and walked over. Waiting for the young woman to stop pacing the blonde was quickly becoming annoyed with the twos bickering back and forth. A growl escaped the young Drykas' lips when the other was threatened by the man.

“Back off now,” Jasmine said as her voice lowered giving her a much older sound, “it is not our place to decide what happens to her. It is up to the Conclave. You can ride with me on Chaser.”

Jasmine mounted up seeing Merevaika ride ahead back towards the city. She could careless if the male followed or went after some wounded coyote. Reaching an arm down the woman was more than happy to help the other girl up should she need it. With her not a drykas the woman knew there was not much of a chance, that the female would remain free. She only hoped and prayed to Zulrav that they “sell” her to someone fair. There were many in the city that were not kind to the people viewed as slaves.
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Git Along, Little Dogie (Jasmine and Mere)

Postby Merevaika on March 21st, 2017, 10:11 pm

Merevaika


After a long silence, the bow was hers. She took a moment to inspect it, flipping it in her hands, running her finger down the wood and testing the string. Smooth, fairly well made. It had its nicks and chips of time, but not specifically of bad craftsmanship.

She almost laughed when the blonde snapped about her damaging or losing the bow. Like she could make Merevaika regret it. She was tiny, without a weapon or horse. Merevaika was the opposite. Beside, she had no intention of doing any of the such. Instead, she planned on keeping the weapon - attaching it beside her own bow, she continued as if it had always been her own.

A slave wasn't going to be able to keep a weapon anyway, not in the beginning. Better in her hands than some greedy Drykas who didn't know how to use it and had only got it by buying her.

The walahk was rough, and cruel, and to the point. And not stupid, either when he spoke of the bad that darkness brought. He was right of course - but he didn't know Merevaika. The Drykas wasn't scared of the dark. She wasn't scared of a few glassbeaks or zith or whatever else the Sea of Grass had. She had crossed it all, once, almost alone. She had slept in it and ran in it and rode in it.

But he was right, and she had a slave to protect now. A slave that meant money. And the one thing that beat her recklessness in this situation was her greed. She didn't even bother denying it.

His words made little sense, she ignored them. Instead, she returned her attention Jasmine and to the slave.

The blonde was spitting now, almost, almost challenging the crazy walahk. She wasn't completely stupid either. He couldn't hurt her too bad, or they'd have nothing to sell. She sent a warning glance at both, before speaking sharply in Pavi in an attempt for the walahk to understand. "Injuries mean less money. Make them hurt but not mark too badly, if you must."

She didn't care if he did hurt her. Just not bad enough to make her seem work less. It would keep her from being a problem.

But Jasmine clearly did, warning. It was the Conclave's duty, not theirs, she claimed.

Weren't at the conclave yet, she thought to herself, they didn't even know she existed.

Pushing Eryunt further a little, she kept steady on his back, keeping her legs as still as possible and one hand attempting to train his head forward so her constant turning to watch the others wouldn't confuse him. "Forward," she whispered softly to him, trying to explain her actions, "Forward." She only wished they could ride quicker. It was the others who held her back, but they were important enough to keep in sight.

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Git Along, Little Dogie (Jasmine and Mere)

Postby Konrad Venger on March 23rd, 2017, 6:38 pm

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Konrad's eyes shot up at the smart, fierce words rattling from a face more akin to a pleasure house than the remnants of a Zith-ravaged caravan. The girl had stones, he had no problem admitting that. But Konrad was flexible enough (or just hypocritical enough) to still surge forward, gripping the kukri tighter as he did.

Few digs will get her good and pliant, he told himself, sliding into a slave driver's mentality with little effort. Bend her double with one to the gut, keep her up so you can paste her a few around the face, then drag her to-

Then hard words stopped him dead, much to his surprise. Blondie had more steel in her spine that he'd thought. A handful of words and whatever violent plans the walahk had, they vanished by the time their echo had faded. His glare stayed where it was, though... joined by a sneer that twisted his already mutilated face into something that promised pain.

"Maybe later," he sneered, sheathing the blade and turning back to his horse. "Little girl..."

It was only once he'd got back on his horse - fine, pony, but shyke, what else can you afford? - that the full weight of Jasmine's words hit him. The Conclave. The government, as far as Endrykas was concerned and as Konrad understood it, with typical Sunberth disdain for any authoritative body. At least the syndicates didn't pretend they were anything less than the biggest gangs around: as far as he'd seen, governments in other places were the exact same thing. They just didn't have the balls to admit it.

The mercenary snorted out an exhale and checked off his hopes to have his own slave, or at least the sale of one he could profit from. Then he felt the purses shifting in his pockets, their weight pulling down at his jacket... and he smiled. Not a bad day, anyway. Loot was loot, and at least he had some to show for his efforts. The two women? They'd have to go through all the-

Glittering life caught his eye. Red and wet and not turned to rusted black in the grass. As the women trudged and cantered onward, the walahk wordlessly peeled away to follow the trail... and that's what it was. Bloody and short, but a trail, and as he followed it, tossing a look over his shoulder now and then to make sure he wasn't out of sight, it grew wider. And messier.

"Ah, shyke..."

The buzzards and carrion crows hadn't led him wrong, but they'd not left much either. Konrad puffed out a breath and fanned his face with his hat, gazing stoically at the explosion of guts, muscle, fatty strands and chewed bones that had once been a coyote. His coyote. He swung a foot over and off his pony, walked closer... and something like bloody ivory caused him to look down.

It was a paw. Gnawed and chewed near the top, but the foot itself, the pads and the claws and the sinew, all still good. Konrad lifted it up and turned it around, letting Syna reveal all to him. All that was left of the damn thing, he'd wager. Again, he snorted.

Wasn't what you were after, but look at what you found.

"Aye," he murmured, pocketing his tattered prize. "True enough."

A chime later, the women would hear the swift clip-clopping of a shoe-less pony trotting up behind them, bringing up the rear of their odd and ill-tempered little party. Konrad held on to the mane of the stubborn little beast, chugging from his water skin as he held back a wince.

His wounds were still raw. Still angry and mayhap one or two might split open come their return to Endrykas. He should probably thank the two women...

A snort from the rear, and man or pony, no-one could tell.

Don't Make Me Repeat Myself.

||Common||Thoughts||Pavi||Fratava||Myrian||Other's Speaking||
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Note: As of Fall 517AV, Konrad is known only as "Hansel" in Endrykas
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Konrad Venger
Long is The Way and Hard
 
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Git Along, Little Dogie (Jasmine and Mere)

Postby Sloane on March 29th, 2017, 1:16 pm

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Sloane resolutely ignored the other blondes proffered arm, and instead scrambled into the strange saddle on her own, though it took her a long moment and lots of heaving and huffing. She sat stiffly, her back straight as an arrow despite the aches and bruises that it caused, and her hands clung tightly to the foreign leather harness that the woman had strapped over her horse.

Sloane watched, eye's narrowed with anger and frustration as the man followed suit, and as the blonde coaxed her horse forward, her gaze darting away to study the brunette. The man wasn't following immediately, but Sloane couldn't careless. After all, it took much of her concentration and what strength she had less to remain in the saddle... thing. It would have been easier for her to hold onto the woman, but her pride prevented that; as nice as the woman had tried to be, she did nothing to disagree with or change Sloane's situation.

Determined not to speak another word or acknowledge the trio in any way, Sloane's gaze found itself set resolutely to the horizon, her mind buzzing with pain, exhaustion and anger, and would remain that way for the rest of the ride.

OOC :
Right, well, that's all for me! Thanks for writing with me! Feel free to do whatever with Sloane, within reason.


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Sloane
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