Solo Blood Eagle

And so it ends in blood and suffering.

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A lawless town of anarchists, built on the ruins of an ancient mining city. [Lore]

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Blood Eagle

Postby Kaie on July 18th, 2015, 5:30 am

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31st Day of Summer, 515 AV
2nd Bell
A continuation from here!


Wrath was a violent sea. It swelled with emotion and wounded pride, churning beneath the influence of blistering wind and thunderhead clouds with sights set upon the shore. Kaie's had built momentum over the last season. It swirled within while she recovered from unjust wounds. Now that she had returned to the port of her trauma, her waters swallowed whole and drowned all who stood in her path toward righteous revenge. When she would finally recede from the sands there would be a long trail of blood and suffering left in her wake. Only one life remained to be collected, and when Flavus awoke to discover her intentions for his untimely end, he would crave only the sweeter surrender of a watery grave by comparison. The Tigress would show him a true butcher.

Three bodies already laid about the dank underground of Rita's enterprise. Fen, hardly recognizable laid in a fetal-like heap where he had first challenged the appeared war-painted woman. The proprietor of the building herself laid choked nearby with bulging, bloodshot eyes that saw nothing. The slave whore that had been strung upright at the far end of the chamber still hung in her restrains, blood still spilling from the gladius-like hole in her throat. Flavus, unconscious albeit alive, remained collapsed in the center of his subterranean torture chamber. The long living, waking creature was Kaie. She cleaned her bloodied gladius upon the clothing of the fallen and sheathed it. And once she dropped the ladder leading to the hatch to prevent anyone above from disturbing her, she began to admire the various tools hanging from walls and racks for a sadist's pleasure.

Bronze fingers reached out and she strolled toward the nearest rack near the exsanguined slave whore, dancing along each tool as she moved. Whips. Maces. Clubs. Knives of all shape and size. Flavus certainly had options whenever he came to Rita's to enjoy himself. While her victim was still out, she set to setting her stage. Two racks were arduously pulled closer together with a spacious gap still left between them. Both were fitted with spare restraints to their ends. Then the Myrian grabbed Flavus by one of his arms. Digging heels into the moist floor, she tugged him into the space she had created and fastened his wrists into the restraints. The cleaver belonging to the martyred Myrian, Zedra of the Scattered Bones, was procured from Kaie's weapon belt as she lowered into a crouch before the kneeling Flavus. Waiting.

Flavus awoke in fifteen chimes after a few solid slaps to his cheeks. His brow furrowed, eyes squinting with remembered pain from the gladius that knocked him cold. Green eyes blinked open and he gave his extended arms a bewildered tug. Between the weight of the racks and the restraints tying him in place, it was to no end. He lifted his chin to find The Tigress crouched before him with a thumb stroking the edge of a cleaver. He grit his teeth and gave the restraints another pointless yank. "Guess I was wrong. You're not the great hero anymore now that your friends are gone. If only your Red Wolf bitch could see you now," Flavus taunted when he found the hanging corpse of his slave whore behind her. Rather than strike him as her instincts demanded, the Myrian rose to her feet instead.


"Yes, if only," she mused without emotion, resting the cold steel cleaver upon his cheek for a moment. "You weren't the easier man to find, Flavus. I caught scent of you by accident, truly." The cleaver drew across his flesh, lingering for a moment before it jumped from his skin. Kaie began to stroll slowly about him. "I caught some drunk by the Baroque taverns bragging about how he got this Myrian's cleaver. How he followed the word of the town crier like everyone else down to the docks to lay waste to the Scars. So I killed him for the cleaver and paid Tua a visit next. That's how I found out about your friend Mr. Silver." Her quarry stiffened at mention of the last name. The gesture wasn't lost upon the Myrian. "He didn't give you up easy, but eventually he did. Then he told me everything I needed to know so I could kill your friends at the back door, Manny and his girlfriends in the first room, and...well, you know how it went from there."

"If you're going to kill me, get it over with!" Flavus painfully adjusted his position of his knees, one of them being busted from Kaie's earlier antics prior to his blackout. The Tigress laughed aloud at his sentiment.
"I'm the Myrian savage you say I am. Back in the jungle, my clan had their own way of executing their prisoners. See, first we'd take them down into a chamber underground just like this one we called the Shrieking Pits. We'd tie you up just like this. Then the clan would watch the Blood Eagle earn its wings." His face contorted with confusion as Kaie used the cleaver to tear the shirt from his back. His arms tugged again. "What are you doing?" The Myrian removed her cloak and tossed it aside. Murmurs in her mother tongue began to slip like an otherworldly hymn in the ears of her prisoner.
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Blood Eagle

Postby Kaie on November 5th, 2016, 6:10 pm

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"I said, 'what are you doing, you crazy savage bitch!'" Flavus demanded again, head turning in attempt to see what the Myrian behind him was up to. Kaie broke her murmuring to walk back around to crouch before him again. She jerked the cleaver up beneath his chin with teeth bared. "Each breath you take is mine. Each beat of your frightened little heart is mine. You belong to me." His eyes widened as he realized her words were merely an echo of his own to the slave whore just before the Myrian emerged from the shadows. His cool was breaking. Panic was evident on his face when she left him to circle back behind. "Now...let's really hear you scream."

The downward swing of the cleaver to the left of his spine came with all the pent-up fury Kaie had clutched to since the day The Scars left Sunberth. Flavus, tough as he was, indeed screamed with the sound of his cracking ribs.
"Blessed Goddess Queen, hear the prayer of your daughter so far from home. I present to you and to my fallen sister Zedra of the Scattered bones the suffering of our enemy and all I've slain here in your name," She called to Myri the Merciless before striking the same spot again to break apart the ribs from the spine. Flavus offered about another scream. "Dira, Goddess of Death, I deliver yet another to your arms. Let his reaping be slow." Again another swing to the next section of ribs to be broken free from the spine.

The work of the ritual was tiring and Kaie was no proper wielder of the cleaver. Her strikes never quite landed in the same spot, leaving ugly, uneven cuts down the bloody back. Sweat beaded upon her forehead. Lungs heaved for air. Muscles begged for reprieve she would not allow until she saw the task through. Flavus finally broke and begged for mercy. A weaker man would've passed out from the pain. Perhaps Dira too wanted to see his end move at a sluggish pace. Eventually, the war-painted Myrian had split ribs from spine on both sides of his back to yield access to the inner body cavity. Zedra's cleaver was set down. The Tigress reached within with bare hands to cradle either lung.

Flavus gasped and sucked with panic, agonized breaths. Kaie drew the lungs up into the world and carefully laid them over his back before she released them. The Myrian walked back around to crouch before the man who dared attack the people she once regarded as her chosen family. The one that led to the undue suffering of her Myrian sister in all but clan name. Her amber eyes stared into his desperate green eyes, watching him sputter blood and hyperventilate. His lungs resting on his back indeed looked just like the folded wings of an eagle. His suffering was not quick, just as The Tigress had promised. Yet when he did finally die, she was content to know her face was the last he viewed before he was ripped from the world.

Flavus's lifeless stare should've been more satisfying than it was. She'd been imagining it for so long, letting the hatred and need for vengeance fuel her resolve. There was finality in his ugly death but it did not bring her the peace she longed for. Perhaps she had been too greedy, too naive to think the vendetta would heal her at all. All she felt was nothing. With lip curled, Kaie stood up again and moved to one of the better-lit walls of the chamber. Using Flavus' open body cavity as a paint resource, the Myrian began to write the same message she had the day she returned to the city and began her quest. Then she flitted to the door, removing the wooden barrier, making one last glance toward the carnage left behind, and exited Rita's through the tunnel Flavus used to transport the bodies of his dead playthings.

Sooner or later someone from the Brotherhood of Chains would find their fallen brother. Some would react with great anger. Most would be overjoyed there was one less individual to share their wealth. After all, they were just beginning to gain ground in the city. The brutal Flavus would quickly be forgotten and replaced before their positions were solidified. Yet all would be astounded, not just by the gory scene itself, but the familiar bloody writing upon the wall left behind by the slaughterer. It was a message that had been left above a number of recently slain brutes in the city that season: The Tigress.
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Blood Eagle

Postby Kaie on November 6th, 2016, 5:54 pm

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Captain Swiftfoot spied the familiar silhouette approaching the docks in the early light of dawn. It was a tired shadow but one that moved with sure purpose. The aging man crossed the deck of his ship and leaned against the mast, bloodshot eyes squinting to make out the distant face. Sure enough it was his temporary Myrian companion that made her way toward his gangplank. Her cloak hood was up and gaze cast at the ground before her. Blood stained the crevices of her hands, one of which clutched an equally gory cleaver. The weapons attached to her belt sung with each step she took.

The captain had been a true Sunberth-born man in his youth. His hands were calloused and usually busted, both from working on ships and breaking noses. It was nearly impossible to be queasy about blood as a native to the city. The sight of the Myrian when she returned from misdeeds was never one that bothered him. Yet this return was different. The raging inferno that motivated her violent efforts since their arrival in Baroque Bay appeared to have been stuffed out. In its place was a chilling iciness he could sense even as she stepped foot upon his ship deck. Her amber eyes never lifted to find his scruffy, bearded face. She merely sauntered to the mast he leaned upon, and raised a hand to clutch the ax she had buried there. One strong, determined yank parted the ax blade from the ancient, marred wood. The sight of the gouge it left behind made his knees weak, but he knew better than to make comment.

"So it's done then?" he asked in a cautious tone, sensing a sort of finality in the Myrian's body language. Kaie shook the hood off her head. Her eyes gazed down at the ax in her hand. Blood from her hands had smeared on its handle.
"Yes. It's done," she assured him in monotone. Then she made way for the bow of the ship to look down into the sea water below. The ax she buried when she declared war was tossed overboard into their dark depths. Swiftfoot made his way to stand beside her with a furrowed brow. "I thought you told me your people buried the ax when the war was over."
"I told you my war was to answer Zedra's death with another to honor her. The mob gave her a watery grave here so this too is where I bury my ax."

Captain Swiftfoot hesitated for a tick, but in the end dared to place a sympathetic hand on the woman's shoulder. At first she flinched. Was it really so long since she experienced non-threatening contact with another person? "Come on, Myrian. Let's get you cleaned up and with a stiff drink, ay?" Kaie conceded and followed him below deck. He guided her to his own quarters, pulling a chair up to his small desk for her to sit in while he ventured elsewhere. In a moment he was back with a bucket of water and a rag he set down beside her chair. Kaie mumbled a thank you and went to cleaning off her hands and spattered face. Swiftfoot procured a bottle and two cups, which he generously filled. "To Zedra then?" The captain and Myrian raised their cups.
"To Zedra. And to the Scars."
"And to the Scars."

May they both rest in peace.

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Blood Eagle

Postby Aladari Coolwater on April 5th, 2017, 11:50 pm

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Your grades have been spotted!
________

Kaie

■ Torture + 2
■ Weapon: Cleaver + 2
■ Intimidation + 2
■ Endurance + 1
■ Drawing + 1
■ Philosophy + 1

    Lores
Lore of Myrian Culture: Performing a Blood Eagle
Lore of Completing Unsatisfying Revenge
Lore of Myrian Culture: Burying the Ax to End the War
Lore of Philosophy: Ending the War Where it Started
Lore of The Scars: May They Rest in Peace
Lore of Intimidation: Use Their Words Against Them


Comments:

Eww! The description of the Blood Eagle made me squirm in my chair, and I even had to take a break in reading that section. That's a sign of good descriptions- good work- even if it was gross. :p

Don't forget to delete your post in the grading queue, and if you have any questions or concerns, feel free to PM me about your grade!

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