A Slave's Ransom (Belugnir)

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A city floating in the center of a lake, Ravok is a place of dark beauty, romance and culture. Behind it all though is the presence of Rhysol, God of Evil and Betrayal. The city is controlled by The Black Sun, a religious organization devoted to Rhysol. [Lore]

A Slave's Ransom (Belugnir)

Postby Shiress on October 12th, 2018, 11:45 pm

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10th Day
Fall 518

It says something for a slave when she has a guard that she can trust, as in, he hates her slave master near as much as she does. Upon learning that Kylar was, in fact, a mole for the Nitrozian family, Shiress had worked quickly to gain her furtively observant guard's trust by gaining access to family only delivery areas, quiet meetings, and ledgers. Kylar would then give back to Shiress any knowledge that he judged Jessica Lazarin might deem interesting. Not only did this alliance insure more freedom for Shiress, but it also insured that Rook, Shiress's bondmate, most always had something to give back to his master, Jessica. It was perfect. For the time being.

It was most appreciated on days like this one, when Kylar would have his quiet, secret meetings with whomever he gave his juicy information to and would allow Shiress to accompany him to the city proper, then leaving her to her own devices for a few bells. Shiress nearly felt free on days like these. Nearly.

As was his wont, Kylar had given Shiress his cloak to cover up the slave garb, which consisted of a simple, light brown cotton shift. This way the slave could avoid the wary eyes that followed a unsupervised slave wandering around aimlessly. Unfortunately, the Lark guard was not a small man. Shiress, however, was a petite woman and she felt confident that, if she ever had the need to camp, the heavy black cloak could double as her tent perfectly.

Shiress sat on a stone bench tucked into a quiet corner of The People's Market, her thrice large cloak wrapped tightly around her slender form. Syna had dipped deep into the west, casting the city of chaos into deep shadow, and urged its denizens homeward, or in search of extended, nightly entertainment. Lamplighters roamed the narrow docks, lighting torches, as the sounds of slamming windows and clicking doors announced merchants closing down their shops for the day.

Only a handful of souls roamed the area where Shiress awaited the Lark guard's return, and by the time the last of them disappeared into shadow, Kylar stepped around the corner. Shiress let out an impatient sigh and stood. "Where were you? I was beginning to think you had forgotten me." The slave's tone was playful, but she hoped there was enough of an edge to get her point across, nonetheless. She opened her mouth to speak again, but snapped it shut when Kylar's form brushed torch light and she caught sight of his face -Kylar's visage was a rictus of alarm

"What's wrong?" she said, hurrying her steps.

"I think I'm being follo..."

Kylar's voice cut off with a grunt of pain when a form appeared from the shadows and slammed into the guards back. Kylar turned to engage his attacker. Shocked, the slave could only stare dumbly at the two flailing forms, until her guard was able to growl out a command for her.

"Run!"

Shiress ran.

Moonlight drowns out all but the brightest stars


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A Slave's Ransom (Belugnir)

Postby Belugnir on October 13th, 2018, 12:06 pm

An easy errand, huh Trevor? A quick grab of coin. ‘Don’t dwell on it too much, Einar, it’ll do you no good.’ Cheva’s ass, I hope you drown in this shyke-murk lake…

Being in need of work and coin was a dull, looming reality that either drove men like Ein to either wither in squalor or resort to doing things that only the scum of the earth would willingly do… Being in need of coin led to arrangements with shady folk, which led to accepting a horribly convenient job which should never have been accepted in retrospect… which led to a few pints to many in order to drown out what little decency the fellow believed himself to have before he’d set out to kidnap a woman for ransom…

The only information he had to go off of was a loosely described route that the slave’s bodyguard was expected to take throughout the city, along with voiced descriptions of both of them… Who in the cockin’ blazes affords to have their slave a bodyguard? …So Ein had settled in the tavern where this Kylar was meant to meet up with some odd fellow around evening. The two men did not chatter for long, though at the point where the two began to go their separate ways, Einar had already soaked himself silly with ale… and that was likely what gave him away, sooner than his inexperience with guile. One would think a brat of Sunberth would be a tad better at tailing folk through the streets… But this was not his home town and he was far removed from the sharp-eyed and agile lad that would patiently stalk fat-bellied merchants for a perfect opportunity to cut their purse and line up a swift exit…

Having undertaken this affair without most of his usual equipment didn’t go to Ein’s comfort either. What he had to him was his holster throwing knives, his rough dagger, and a length of rope strapped to his belt, hidden under an overcoat and absent all of his armor save for a gauntlet on his left hand… at the very least he thought ahead enough to pull up a hood and have a cloth under it that would cover his lower face.

Mind numb to hesitation, Ein dashed to shove into the fellow he’d sloppily followed through the darkening streets as soon as he’d heard the bugger exchanging words with a feminine voice…

Having not a poleaxe, Ein rushed as quick as he could, drawing his one proper dagger in an upward arc, looking to bash its round pommel over Kylar’s nape while the man’s back was still turned… Though his target seemed easily alerted by his approach, the bodyguard only did so much as turn before Einar’s hit connected, and though it did not align itself as the attacker intended, Kylar was soon stumbling backward, reaching a hand for his ringing skull within a moment… which nicely opened him up for a reflexive shove to the side and then an elbow clean into the chin… and like that, Shiress’ bodyguard found himself tumbling over the edge of the dock and into the canal beneath.

Ein was drunk enough to have a minor hazard in his step, the occasional hiccup and the absence of self-rebuke for what he was doing, though he was still sane enough to properly mess a bugger up after getting a drop on them… And sane enough not to linger after shoving this fellow off into the canal and bolt after the silhouette of the cloaked lass that began to flee the scene. Not that he gave much consideration to the man he’d just shoved into the lake, but the woman’s bodyguard would, eventually, have been able to wrest his way from the water, clutching in a desperate daze at the edge of a docked ravosala... albeit it would have taken a lengthy time for the fellow to regain his breath and find himself standing on the walkway above the dock… and by that point Einar intended to be far off.

With what head start she gained during his struggle with Kylar, Ein, driven by his own burst of hysteria and panic, barely remembered to sheathe his weapon and still just barely caught up to the woman as she’d ducked hind the first corner of the walkway… Though, clumsily enough, he’d only managed to grab hold and pull at the cloth that flapped behind her. Then his momentum would come to completely cease for an instant as he’d fought against his poor footing that nearly saw him delivered tumbling to the ground.

Whether by merit of pulling her out of her flight should the cloak she wore have been buckled properly, or by a renewed pursuit, Ein would eventually grab hold of the girl, by the wrist, ankle or shoulder, anything could provide him leverage to reel her in… or should she had proven wittier and more evasive by keeping at a straight line through the alleyways of Ravok and thus putting an ounce of distance between them, he would eventually settle for leaping forth to tackle the girl and slam both himself and her into the ground.

Ultimately, it would come down to the girl being slammed either into the pavement, the wall of the nearest building, or a stack of crates, with a bastard of heaving breath, heavy with alcohol pinning on top of her, wide eyed like an animal. Ein would end up looking to press his right hand over her nose and mouth, aiming to rob the girl of air long enough for consciousness to leave her… There was no mind to be spared for folk who may have passed by the alleyways in which their struggle took place, and barely a thought was there in regard to the prick that he’d pushed into the canal…

He’d delivered himself into a vast pit, filled chest-deep with shyke, and there was no ramp nor rope to help him out, so he would walk his way on through it… swim if need be.


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A Slave's Ransom (Belugnir)

Postby Shiress on October 13th, 2018, 9:58 pm

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Some might think that a slave's life would be, outside of whippings and lashings, monotonous, ordinary, and never exciting. Shiress found herself wishing this were true. Since arriving in Ravok, her life has been anything but boring. Thwarting an Ebonstryfe assassination, saving several lives, bonding with a Kelvic, and even a bit of espionage had been achieved in the first few seasons upon arriving in the city.

City of chaos, indeed.

It had been too quiet this last season. Too 'monotonous' and had the slave put her mind to it, she would have seen this coming. Shiress seemed to have gotten the attention of Rhysol himself, if such things happened, at least, that's what the curses muttered from her lips spat, as she fled through the city.

Shiress tried to think of why this man had attacked her guard and wondered if it had something to do with what ever Kylar was doing in the tavern. Whatever it was, She had already decided that she didn't care as long as it didn't have anything to do with her.

Rounding a corner, Shiress stumbled to a stop, glancing back the way she had come. Not seeing a pursuer, she began to move toward a wall to where she could catch her breath, but the figure that had just rounded the far corner made her pause. At first, the slave thought her guard had fought free of his attacker already, but when the man took off at a dead run toward her, she realized she had been wrong.

Darting off again in the opposite direction, another round of curses flew from Shiress's mouth as she realized she had let the man get far too close before realizing her mistake. The stranger was on her in an instant.

Momentum was stole from her as the cloak she wore suddenly was grabbed from behind. Shiress twisted and pulled until the garment came free of her shoulders, letting out a hiss of pain as a fistful of her chestnut hair went with it. The stranger didn't slow in the least, however, for she felt the petcher's fingernails rake down her forearm as he grabbed for her. She twisted out of the man's grip and darted off again, hearing heavy boot-steps too close behind.

Shiress hadn't gone five paces before the heavy body of her pursuer slammed into her back, driving her to the ground. The slave hit the wooden planks with a windless grunt. Shiress tried to lift herself and scramble away but the man was clawing up her body. Twisting around to her back, the slave let loose with a barrage of kicks aimed at her assaulter's face, but whether or not any landed she couldn't tell.

The weight of the stranger was enough to drive the girl back down, but the man was just too strong and Shiress was pinned far too easily. Wild eyes stared down at her from a covered face shrouded in a dark hood. Her heart lurched and began to pound as an array of disturbing images flicked through her thoughts of her attacker's intentions. Then, a large, callused hand lifted to her face, covering her mouth and nose. Emerald eyes flew wide as her already desperate lungs were completely shut off to air.

Vigorously renewing her efforts of escape, Shiress bucked, lifting her uninjured hand to scrape and scratch and pull at the iron grip suffocating her, but even as she did so darkness crept into the corner of her eyes, her movements slowing, until she was suddenly unable to move at all. Emerald eyes slowly rolled away and Shiress knew no more.

Moonlight drowns out all but the brightest stars


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A Slave's Ransom (Belugnir)

Postby Belugnir on Yesterday, 6:54 am

The amount of times she’d nearly eluded him and the frightful, desperate struggle she gave as he’d drove her to the ground only served to stoke senseless anger in the man.

He hadn’t allowed her to turn over completely, pinning the woman’s left arm beneath her own body, and as he’d proceeded to scramble over to put his own weight on her, he received a rather fiercely delivered knee to the bottom of his belly, which saw the back of his hand introduced to the woman’s cheek in retaliation before grabbing hold of her lower face to rob her of what little air she had.

And then she clawed three bloody rakes in the back of his hand as she fought for breath… which ended with Einar just barely refraining from clutching a proper fist crowned with iron rivets and instead only shoving the exposed palm of his left hand into the side of her waist, before grabbing hold of her free wrist and forcing it aside, slamming her forearm into the planks behind her… only to realize his other, bloodied hand had settled lower, clasping mercilessly about the girl’s neck and pulling her head upwards, rearing to dash her nape against the dock upon which she laid…

Had he not stopped himself there he’d likely either have cracked open the back of her skull or snapped her neck… yet instead of either, he quickly pressed his one free palm against her mouth and nose yet again, and then watched, breathless himself, almost paralyzed, as teary emerald eyes slowly rolled up and fluttered shut… Then he let go.

He lingered a moment, hunched over her, before flailing himself to his feet, and taking a shallow, raspy breath. Sobered, he looked down at the girl’s body. Right arm resting awkwardly as if sewn on to the body it belonged to, her face still and unmoving, pale skin growing fierce pink where he’d struck her and where his fingertips dug into as he’d held her, neck and cheeks smeared with blood that dripped from the back of his hand. Dumbfounded he looked… and felt his gut tie into a knot.

Fuck! A stack of crates came toppled over as Ein’s foot crashed into it. He was came sober, yet his vision was blurry, and so he pulled off the cloths which hid his face and threw back his hood. Boiling sweat came dripping down the side of his face, strands of damp hair hugging his cheeks. He took a breath again… and dropped into a seat against the wooden wall behind him.

If there’s any right in this world I ought to end up with a shiv in me side before this week’s through…

Moving over to where she laid, he pressed an ear to her chest, and his bloodied hand came trembling in front of her nostrils. Her heart pounded yet, and after moments that felt like a bloody chime each he caught a cold wisp of breath upon his bloodied palm… She was alive still.

Giving himself a fierce slap on the cheek, Ein got to his feet again.

Put yourself together, ye daft cunt…

Dragged by the garments she had on, the girl would soon end up seated back in the darkest alley corner Ein could spot… and rather than spend an ounce of time tying her up and gagging her in case she wakes up, he’d simply hurled the cloak he tore off of the girl over her and tucked her into it a couple times over, before tossing her over his shoulder as if she were a sack, and starting to hurriedly make his way away from the sight of ruckus that he’d caused… Not knowing that the man he’d hurled into the canals would take nearly another five chimes to find himself on the spot. Frankly, at least in Ein’s eyes, it was a cockin’ miracle that a guard or passenger hadn’t outright tripped over them as he’d had his hissy fit over what he’d done.

Sticking to the alleyways and always checking behind every incoming corner three times over before ever moving through and halting for however long it’d take for stray passers he’d spot to move on through and clear the area, Ein made his way through the docks, coming to a warehouse on the edge eastern edge of the merchants’ ring after some twenty chimes… albeit it felt as if half the night had gone by.

Hopefully the girl would not have come to along the way… and in case she did wake up and forget the means with which Ein had first robbed her of consciousness, she’d receive a reminder, and a gag.

The warehouse was but a plain, expansive space walled off with wood and crowned off by plank and straw that ever so often found its way to fall down onto the floor, forming thickets. Plentiful stacks of supply crates and wooden containers filled up the space... along with a single, sizable cage that Ein’s associate and some of the rotten bastard’s coworkers kept there for their own purposes…

‘’Bel, that you?’’, a voice of anticipation came from the dark corner in the distance as Ein creaked the warehouse door closed behind him.

‘’Nay, it’s bloody Ivak come to set ye arse ablaze, ‘course it’s cockin’ me.’’, the mercenary hissed back.

While Ein went to set the girl down into the cage that he’d only imagined was originally meant to constrain a right and proper bear, a figure approached, naught of it visible but the hooded overcoat it wore, and the lantern in its hand, albeit its voice undoubtedly belonged to a man.

‘’What the petch are you doing with your hood off you dimwit?’’, the man railed at the sight of his newly employed kidnapper.

‘’She hasn’t seen shyke, now quit gawkin’ at me and tell me if I’ve got the right bloody woman.’’, Einar retorted, pulling his own hood and the mask of cloth that went with it on, while the figure shone a light and began eyeing the girl.

‘’By Cheva, man, you were supposed to snatch her, not beat her to half dead and nearly tear off her bloody arm… look it, her shoulder’s dislocated…’’, the man scolded and snorted. ‘’How am I to—‘’

‘’Shut your gob and fix her up.’’, never fond of explaining himself or taking an earful, Ein cut the man off. Especially seeing as the prick had the cheek to nag him while he’s been sitting on his ass in this warehouse, waiting for the mercenary to do all the dirty work.

‘’Me?’’, the man almost mocked.

‘’Aye you, you daft cunt, you’s the one worked under a would be healer, and you’s the one having done cockin’ squat tonight so you fix her up… And if ye keep mouthin’ me off like some smart arse I’ll fix you up like I did her.’’

‘’Well you’re in a sour mood.’’, the other fellow mused peacefully, albeit not before a tense moment of quiet in which the two stared each other off had passed by…

My, Trevor, I wonder what bloody gave it away. Einar snorted dismissively, putting an effort to keep his shaken temper in check.


As it was likely that the pain of having stretched muscles and disjointed bones snapped back into place would have been enough to jerk the woman back into the waking world, the two men made sure to first tie her ankles together with rope and tuck a sizable clump of cloth into her mouth before securing it in place with a strap of leather tied together at the back of her head… then Trevor would set her arm straight with two… considerably imperfect motions.

‘’You’s not exactly a cockin’ gentle saint, either, huh?’’, Ein imitated the bugger’s previous tone.

‘’I suppose not.’’, Trevor dismissed... and with an oddly satisfactory note.

Whether she woke up at the time or later, Shiress would be greeted by a sight not too different from the one that saw her to sleep. Namely, Einar being by her side binding her hands together to the iron bars upon which she was rested, his face still cloaked and hidden, albeit now absent the bestial panic from what little was visible of his eyes.


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A Slave's Ransom (Belugnir)

Postby Shiress on Yesterday, 5:45 pm

Image
Something pricked at the edges of Shiress's consciousness, nudging a part of her awareness from complete and utter stillness to that of a dream like state. As if floating, the slave's thoughts teetered toward the surface, bobbing back and forth. Or was that her body? It was too much effort and she fell back to stillness.

Again, the prick to her awareness, but this time it was more of a jab. No, it was pain. The pain had removed her from the blissful peace and it was floating closer. Rather, Shiress was floating closer to the pain, toward the surface. The closer she drew to the agony her ears began to roar as if she were standing on the shores of Zeltiva in the great winds of a mighty storm. The pain grew in intensity until she felt as if her awareness was diving for the surface, chasing after the sensation, all while the roaring grew to a crescendo.

Shiress burst through to consciousness with a long intake of air, but it wasn't nearly enough. Her lungs needed better than that. Why couldn't she breathe through her mouth? She was suffocating again! He was suffocating her again! Green eyes flew open with panicked breaths. Shiress rolled her head trying to open her mouth, but there was something in it. It all came flooding back into her memory. The chase, the man, the hand.

With great effort, Shiress calmed her breathing, which is saying a lot to calm a panic attack while gagged, and blinked once, twice, until her eyes, at last, focused blearily on a figure by her side. It was him, of course. The cloaked and masked oppressor. She glared at him for long ticks, before glancing around her environment.

Was she in a cage?

Surrounded in a barred, steel box surely gave one the impression. Slanting her aching head slightly she found her arms hanging before her face. She followed them up to where her wrists were tied to a loop of iron dangling from the surface of the cage. A cold, unwanted memory slid to the forefront of her mind. The slave had been here before. Dread drew her eyes closed with the realization of what was happening sank like a stone in her gut. Yet again, she was being stolen from her Master and would see the plans of her freedom thwarted.

No

Not again

Rage began to kindle near her middle and boiled up through her chest, the fight that Elias Caldera had born in her rejuvenating anew. But no, she was in no shape to fight just yet, it would only see her beaten again, or worse. Shiress drew in a long breath through her nostrils and again looked around her surroundings, her hands twisting and pulling near undetectable at the confines that held them fast. Drawing her eyes closed, she would rest and gather her senses for a time.

Muffled voices alerted her awareness, but she didn't move or make a sound. They sounded far off but getting closer. Was she near a window? She renewed the efforts of freeing her hands. The binding there was tight, but she thought a good yank would pull at least one of her hands free. She need only wait for the right time.

Several chimes later, or a few bells, she didn't rightly know, another set of voices came to her from a distance. As they grew closer, Shiress drew in another steadying breath. As soon as she thought they were nearer to where she was, she yanked hard at the ropes. A searing pain burned through her shoulder, eliciting a muffled moan from the slave -one that was sure to gain the attention of her cloaked and masked friend. Not knowing if the man was on the move toward her, Shiress pulled hard with the opposite arm. With great pain and a bit of lost skin, one wrist slid through the binding and fell to her mouth, clawing at the gag. As soon as the cloth fell partly from her lips, the slave bellowed out a plea born on the air of a scream.

"Help me!!"

Sadly, it only came out as a hoarse croak, but, as her hand fell to the cage floor beside her, Shiress felt something long and hard beneath her fingers. A stick? A piece of metal? No matter, whatever it was she would swing it as hard as she could at that masked head.
Moonlight drowns out all but the brightest stars


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Shiress
Best Damn Slave One Can Own
 
Posts: 624
Words: 450751
Joined roleplay: January 25th, 2013, 7:01 pm
Location: Syliras
Race: Human
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