Erica’s Office – Fashion Editor

Trapsing down the corridor, still wearing her rehearsal outfit and with a sweat bag draped over one shoulder, Simone was looking to catch up with her flat mate and best friend Erica, who should have been in her office at this time of day, and hopefully not on one of those exhausting lunches of hers. Reaching the reception area, Simone whipped off her sunglasses and stared lazily at Erica’s assistant, Patty.

“Erica in?” Simone asked, picking up a fashion show flyer and flipping it over before letting it fall from her fingers.

“She’s on a call to New York, but I am sure she will be happy to see you, Miss Jackson.”

“Good…bring in a bottle of bolly when you can, and…cancel her appointments for the next hour. She and I need to chat.”

Not waiting to be given the green light, Simone swanned on past the startled assistant’s desk and without knocking, she entered Erica’s office. Sitting behind a large oak desk, Erica was on a call, her small ear piece blinking away as she spoke with animated hands…or as Simone liked to call them, “magic fingers” This call must have been quite important.

“Names!…names…Names!…Givenchy, Dior, Langerfield…dahling. I want the big ones. All of them. Models…yes?…I want them to look like they just stepped off a plane from Africa and have been starving for six months. Can’t sell fashion to cows…now can we? We are Vogue…and I won’t settle for B list bloody models that not even Ford agency will look at. Got me?…Hmm..Hmm…Right, call me back when you have it sewn up. Chow.”

At this point, she spotted Simone, who had just flopped down in Erica’s couch.

“I thought you had rehearsals, Simmy.”

“Did…and..yes, that was cut short due to a terrible tragedy.”

At the word, tragedy, Erica sat bolt upright. “Someone die?’

“Not quite…but they could have.” Simone said, taking off her glasses and tossing them in her sports bag, as Patty brought in a bottle of Bollinger champagne and two glasses. Simone made a cute cat like grin as the young assistant set down the tray and Simone started helping herself. She was not about to spill her guts in front of the young girl, who she imagined would face book anything said. Popping the champagne as the girl left the room, Simone added with a dead pan expression. “Tea trolley lady poisoned the cast with laced cordial.”

Erica’s jaw dropped open. “She what?”

“Mhm…and Mariah Carey broke her leg. Tragic. Oh…so this fashion show. Need another model?”

Erica by this point was on her cellphone, seeing if this was all true, and sure enough according to TMZ it was.

“Model? Why, you interested?’

Simone chuckled and said. “Well, show has been postponed for a few weeks, so I thought, I could work for you.” It was a smart move on the dancer’s part, since she had the legs and the body for it. Erica tapped her phone, then as Simone got up and handed her a glass of bolly, she pouted and said in a baby voice. “Please?”

Erica took a sip of the champagne, narrowing her gaze at her bestie. She knew how Simone was, and then she wiggled her finger at her.

“No sleeping with the male models, got it? No orgies…no drug parties…promise?”

“Pinkey.”

Simone said cheerfully, with her fingers crossed behind her back.

<3>

The reaction to Brock’s dancing fingers was not quite what he imagined. Being struck by a rolled up magazine, actually made him want to laugh with surprise, but instead he let out a fairly weak sounding “Ow”. Go Brock, acting like a big pussy, and not what he really was. The illusion stays intact….for now.

The light flicked on immediately illuminating the room and making Brock squint and blink at the brightness, before he smiled wide to see her roll over and get a genuine surprise that he was laying there beside her. Before he had a chance to utter the word “surprise, or…Hey”, Pandora threw her arms around his and kissed him fully, as though she was really happy to see him. If this was what she was going to be like when he was away on his return, then he might do it more often, if she could stand it.

His hands started to wander up and down her spine, creeping slowly as he enjoyed her kiss of joy. On breaking it, or coming up for air, Brock placed a kiss on her forehead, and then stared into her eyes.

“Miss me, baby?’ His tone soft and playful.

<3>

When they finally came up for air, Brock kissed her forehead before looking her in the eye.

“Miss me, baby?” he grinned. She sat up fully and surprised him again by whacking him with the magazine.

“Brock James Carrendar! You didn’t text or call me once! Do you know how worried I was?” She whapped him once more for extra measure before tossing the magazine away and falling into his arms. “Don’t scare me like that ever again.” She stated, her voice muffled by his chest as she refamiliarized herself with his scent.

And it was as if the whole horrible day came to a head. She tried so hard to be tough and not show any vulnerabilities but there was only so much she could take. Hot tears sprang to her eyes and splashed against his naked chest as she tried to supress her sobs…but it was no use. She couldn’t keep it in any longer.

It seriously began to worry her that her mother and stepfather knew where she was.

It did not bode well for her.

Edited 2 time(s). Last edit at 03/09/2014 11:52PM by LadyBelz.

Now, he did expect some sort of angered retort to him being away and not calling, but when she started hitting him with the magazine again, coupled with using his full birth name, he knew something was really up in Pan Land. For each strike of the magazine, he made an “Ow” sound, but his smile faded as the strain in her voice showed that this was no game. She truly was upset that he was un-contactable. “Baby, I’m sorry. Where I went was totally out of telecommunication range, even if I could use my cell.”

Her head then dropped and she buried her face into his chest, muffling her voice somewhat, but that was when he felt it. A wetness seeping against his skin. Was she crying? This was so unlike Pandora. The girl he knew was a tough and hardy girl, that had been around the block, and the school of hard knocks. Brock’s brow creased as he held her close to him – feeling the sobs that were now racking her body. Like a flood of emotion, her voice was pained and tortured -but by what?

“Woah woah…Pan, speak to me. This isn’t like you. Come on, I’m home now.” He ran his hand up and down her back, trying to soothe her, but he was bewildered as to what was wrong. Brock felt there was more to this than just him being away. Did someone hurt her? Was she suffering from delayed shock? All he could think to do was hold her tight against him, till she shed all the tears she had in her.

<3>

She knew that, she truly did. But she had missed him, missed his voice, missed his smell, his touch, his everything. She shook her head against him before she brought her head up to look at him. Her eyes were red-rimmed, brimming with unshed tears and though she looked absolutely miserable, she still looked beautiful.

“Woah woah…Pan, speak to me. This isn’t like you. Come on, I’m home now.”

She swiped at her eyes, trying to get the tears to stop but it was like the floodgates on her emotions had become unlocked. He simply held her until she ran dry, which she was supremely grateful for. She sat up, pulling the sheet against her body for warmth as she dried her eyes. She took a tissue and blew her stuffed nose.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall apart like that.” she murmured, her voice still clogged with emotion. “Today has been…not great.” she stared down at her feet, her knees drawn up beneath her chin. She took comfort in the hand running up and down her back in a soothing gesture and knew it was time to tell him a bit of her past.

“Do you know how I don’t talk about my mother and stepfather every time you ask?” She waited for his nod before she continued. “There’s a reason for that.” Sniffing, she tucked her hair behind her ear and prepared to tell him the whole sordid story.

“My mother was once a beautiful woman. She had a great career as a high school English teacher and a man who loved her dearly, my father. My father was the manager of an Italian restaurant, loved what he did. He would always bring home little treats for me. When I was 7, he died. Killed by a drunk driver on his way home from work.” She closed her eyes in remembered pain. The funeral, the endless stream of platitudes and words of condolences.

“And then she met George. I was 9 at the time. He seemed like a good enough guy, a mechanic. He taught me about auto repair. Mom and he got married when I was 10 and the twins were born a year later. But then George started being weird. He kept giving me strange looks, especially just after I’d had a bath. Then mom started being weird. She lost weight. Became absent-minded. Started missing work. Dressing provocatively. Then she lost her job. I never did find out why until later. She’d been caught sleeping with another teacher, a married man with two kids of his own. Then she was arrested – prostitution. But when I was 18…she did something unforgivable. I had just come home from work. I was a stripper and I was using the money to take some classes at the community college in auto mechanics. The house smelled like weed and stale sweat. Mom and George were in the living room…doing lines of coke on the living room table. Mom saw me, told me George would pay me $500 if I gave him a lap dance. My own mother was trying to pimp me out to her own husband, a man who nearly raised me. I told them I refused. George got angry…grabbed me and threw me to the floor. I was so stunned I couldn’t move for a moment and then he was on top of me, trying to rip my clothes off. I was so scared that I did…something…I remember screaming and there was this smell of something burning and George got off me. I jumped to my feet. My mother was glaring at me with such hate in her eyes. George was cradling his arm…it looked red and blistered. I screamed at them that I never wanted to see or hear from them again and I left the house with the clothes on my back. I never returned. I spent a few weeks on a friend’s couch before I saved up enough money to come north.” she finished, shuddering.

She looked at him. “They keep calling me…making threats…no matter how many times I change my number, keep it unlisted…they keep finding me. They know where I live, Brock.” she stated.

It takes a great deal to anger a man. Brock had been trained how to deal with all sorts of situations, both emergencies and real life dramas in rescues. But what he wasn’t prepared for, was the admissions by Pandora of her youth, and the shocking account that her abusive parents had some how managed to track her down. Not only that, they keep finding her unlisted number. From an idyllic childhood, to then have her life spiral out of control from the excesses of her step father and the troubling influence that he had over her mother, it was all too plain to see, that Pandora needed protecting. Especially since her parents seemed to be insistent, if her story was anything to go by.

The more he heard, the angrier he became. He was also mad at himself, for having been away for so long without contact. She deserved more than that, especially from him. Raking his fingers through his hair, he climbed out of bed, and then started to pace back and forth, as though weighing up his options on how best he could protect her. If they knew she was here in this building, he had no idea how safe it truly was. He had no clues about the security systems, or evacuation points. His love, his woman was being threatened…and that just would not do. Finally he stopped pacing and turned to her.

“Pack your bags. I’m taking you home.”

<3>

“If you want to leave…I understand.” she whispered, eyes clenched tight as she tried to put the lock back on her heart.

But there was no sound of her apartment door closing, no sense of him leaving. She brought her head up and saw that he was staring at her with grim determination. She was shocked.

“Brock, what-”

“Pack your bags. I’m taking you home.”

Well that was unexpected.

Her mouth dropped open in shock.

“I-what?” she gaped. “But my job? My classes? And what about your family? I can’t barge in on your life like that!”

Pandora’s reaction was a spray of words, more shocked than anything that Brock would make such a bold request. But what she didn’t understand was that he saw her totally different from what she might have ever expected.

He walked to her closet and turned on the light, then went in and took out a suitcase, before bringing it out and setting it on the bed. His face was like granite. Brock would not take no for an answer.

“Pan…you are my life.”

This would have been a shock. He was putting her first, before family, his work, her work, and her studies. Brock turned and went to her chest of drawers and pulled it open, then started to gather up her smalls, and brought them back to the suitcase and dumped them in.

“Help me pack.”

It was almost like he wasn’t listening to her. But this was him, trying hard…so damn hard not to explode in rage. He couldn’t do that…he couldn’t afford to let her see the truth.

<3>

Part Two
“I used to be a sellsword like you, until i took an arrow to the knee”
CharlotteCarrendar: – Rikken rose from his opulent chair, with a loud grunt of exertion that comes from having difficulty baring the weight of his bulk upon stringy legs. He sniffs loudly, and coughs – clearly this man is in serious bad health, yet he is addicted to his excesses which is why this marriage of connivance for him. It is a one sided affair. With his hand extended, many a chubby finger with gold bands wrapped around them, he gestures for the Ronin to sit at the long table with him, where in behind servants await to bring him trays of food, and chalices with which to fill with wine. It made one wonder just how many meals a day this man has. Rikken Seiyukai sneers at his daughter, who has presented herself before the Ronin, then snuck back to the shadows like a frightened deer. “Children. Bah, thankfully I only have the one, and she will bring me great wealth through this marriage. But, enough about that. My reason for sending for you is clear. Word is some rag of a lad seeks my daughter, and word on the street is he is after my head. The procession of the Dragon, father of my daughter’s intended is to be today, and I want you to stand at my side, to protect me should this lad try anything.” At least Rikken was to the point. <3>

IceTe3a: – “Lovely place” It was expected when entering someone’s home, to offer gesture towards their house, even if this meant giving Rikken more to boast about. Shifting his weight so it’s more centered he adjusted his sword’s position for best gripping speed, allowing his arms to fall to his sides as his hues glance over the young female, looking back at Rikken the man was in appalling shape and health, how he could breath was beyond him, but he would not judge his client for his sins in life. “ I am to understand you have worry that this young man wishes to kill you for your daughters hand in marriage?” he said in a low tone just loud enough for RIkken and his daughter to hear if she wished to. Taking a seat near Rikken but not too close he glanced over the plentiful banquet before him, although none of this appealed to him, not like the street foods he was used to, (Street foods in Asian cultures are fast foods such as Ramen, Curries, raw seafood, Rice balls ect) . In the back of his mind he could not help but wonder why Rikken would be looking for a sellsword, with so many guards at his disposal they should be able to handle any small events that come their way. What exactly did Rikken have in mind for him to kill this young man if he attempted to attack Rikken?, who was he really. So many questions running in the back on his mind to many, causing too much distraction. Closing his eyes for but a moment he placed his palms inward facing each other making a small sign with his hand, breathing in deep and slowly his chest expanded as his lungs filled with nature’s gift, air the life energy of the world for without it nothing would survive. Exhaling sharply he opened his eyes, it was a simple meditation style that calmed and cleared the mind of everything allowing Ronin to focus on the moment at hand. ““So forced marriage I assume, at to what end? What do you gain from this Rikken I only ask to better understand the circumstances and how you came by this information” Ronin asked wondering what else he would know he continues to ask more questions “ Has the young man approached you before with such thoughts in his mind? How old is he exactly, and what exactly would you have me do if he attempted to attack you? Immobilize and bludgeon the boy or more simply, kill him” As he said the last part his eye’s sharpened into a glare as he glanced over to the young daughter, such talk of death always got Ronin in a strange eerie mood, a ‘ Seen it all look’ is said to fall upon his face.

CharlotteCarrendar: – Taking his seat once more, he grunted just as loudly as when he had stood. Just by looking at him, you could see the discolouration in his face that showed he was suffering from a poor diet, and possibly kidney failure which meant that his life span was probably dramatically lessened than most. Blood shot eyes, and swollen wrists. It was a miracle this man was still alive. Placing his fingers pressed together as his elbows rested on the arm rests, he took a deep breath, and then released it. “This town has many eyes and ears all too willing to speak of treachery and villainy. I came to suspect there would be trouble, after I reneged on a deal for my daughter with a warlord known simply as Kaos Makao. News of my daughter’s beauty spread beyond the walls of our lands, and when the Dragon heard of her, he wanted her for his own son. I of course had already spent the money that Kaos had put forward as dowry.” This was a huge admission. One does not renege on a deal such as this and not expect a backlash. “The warlord’s son had met my daughter years ago, and pledged his love. From what I understand he is so infatuated that he will stop at nothing to get her, including ending me.” Rikken placed his hands down flat on the table, and then looked at the Ronin without the mask of pride. “I’m dying. But I rather die in my sleep, than on the steps of my house. I want my daughter wed as the arrangement with the Dragon. Then…I can die a happy man.” Looking back towards his own door, he then added something. “Kaos hired someone, to help his son. Rumor is…the Serpent is coming.” Did the Ronin know of the Serpent, and what this meant? <3>

IceTe3a: – Simple terms, by any means necessary words Ronin has come to hear a lot, of course the greedy old man caused this on his own by rights Ronin should not interfere with this as Rikken had done wrong and gone against his agreement with another, On a personal note Ronin disliked how Rikken treated his daughter palming her around like all she was worth was wealth, though this was expected in his lands and there was nothing to do about it, Ronin could not go against his own lands, the main point is never get to personal with a client or the job. Nodding slightly, his ears twitch hearing ‘The serpent’ another sellsword? Or perhaps hired assassin, either way the boy’s father was a warlord, this would make it safe to assume the boy knew his way around weaponry, leaving Ronin no choice but to give no quarter and this Serpent, a trained warrior unknown attributes what he was trained in, who he was all this was unknown to Ronin which was never good, gong into a job with half the information is going into a fight with a dull blade the outcome is never certain to say the least. “I have three rules that are to be followed if you wish me to accept this job, Firstly I take orders from no one, Understand this if you or one of your men attempt to force my hand, you will certainly lose yours I know how to do my job and I do it well, I understand the terms of the contract and you need not worry about giving me orders for I will complete the contract to the fullest of my abilities. Secondly Payment in full, Trying to cheat me of this will certainly forfeit your life and those who attempt to protect you from your misdeeds, lastly, If and when I ask you to do something I need not have you question it or hesitate such things in a battle make up that fine thread we know as life and death, if you wish to see morning dawn I suggest you heed my words and follow them.” In the back of his mind this job proved to be harder than what he first thought it be, A lad with rage and vengeance in his heart, doomed to never marry his love, only to take up arms in contest such a sad story with a moral to it, and a named warrior of unknown skills, who will most certainly prove more than a hassle. “If you accept my terms the deal is struck, and my sword will be yours until the job is done, If this is the case I must insist we talk more about your home defences”

CharlotteCarrendar: – As the Ronin spoke of the rules of his employ, Rikken reached under the flap of his coat and untied a pouch. He had believed that the safest place to keep his wealth was upon his own body – stuffed between the rolls and folds of his skin. Pouch in hand, with the agreed sum of full payment, he brought his hand out and dumped the coin pouch upon the table, within range of the Ronin. “I believe that is the second rule. Payment in full. As to my men, they will work soley under your guidance as they have been informed that I consider you to be my most valued of security measures.” Placing his hands on the arm rests, he started to rise again, and you could hear the tired creaking of his bones. Again with the strained grunt that was louder than before. Rikken nodded twice, before making the agreement with the sell sword. “Your word is law, till my daughter is riding from this land. The parade is in two hours. I shall summon you with the gong beforehand. Feel free to wander the home and grounds, and check for yourself that everything is in readiness. I wish to rest my head before this wedding. It will be the last chance I get.” Saying his peace, he withdrew from the large dining hall, leaving the Ronin with just two guards, and the frightened daughter of Rikken lurking in the shadows. Why was she not getting ready yet? A good question. Perhaps she wished to speak to the Ronin. Only one way to find out. <3>

IceTe3a: – Now that they were in agreement he was officially hired “ My sword is yours” he said quickly coming to a stand the katana with the red hilt drawn with lightning speed, he slowly re sheathes it upon it clicking into its sheath the top of the coin purse splits spilling the coins on the table “ All those who oppose shall meet my blades” he bows towards Rikken graciously low showing the respect he deserved, the example of his skills just moments ago, were a part of Ronin sealing the contract with his client showing off his sword skills and with such precision it was a reassurance to his client. He waits for rikken to excuse himself for bed to take his seat again and collect his coins adding them to his own coin purse he left the somewhat sweaty cut purse lying on the table. Before Rikken left the room he announced one last thing “Remember my contract is to protect you, no one else will be protected by my sword” One detail he thought was well known but he reminded his clients anyway. Fully knowing he wanted to discuss his defenses with Rikken, he allowed the old man to go sleep as it was not much use talking to a fat old man about strategies of war. Calling over one of the gaurds his eyes meet the somewhat undertrained guard “ I want all the torches lit and to stay that way, leave no shadows in this entire area unlit, otherwise your head will be my payment for such mistake, Double the guards, Insist all weaponry to be checked at the door excluding those immediately to do with the wedding and the guards of those of royalty.” The guard nodded and ran off to complete the orders, Ronin was sure they would forget something, although he was unsure what, there was always a back door. Fully knowing of the presence in the room, he glances over to the young woman studying her over from head to toe, “ What is it” he said simply as he made eye contact with her.

CharlotteCarrendar: – The young girl – a shy yet beautiful child bowed low as the Ronin appraised her with the sweep of his gaze. “Forgive me, Ronin.” She said in a soft and gentle voice. Stepping out of the shadows, you could see she was barely over 14 years of age. She wasn’t a woman to be wed, but a child. “I know, I am supposed to do as Father said, but I am scared. This…Dragon. His son is old as my Father. How can I love a man that has children older than I?” It was an honest question. She was nothing more than a prize to be given to the highest bidder, and her Father had already broken the promise to an influential man. This procession was going to lead to the deaths of many. Instead of joy, there would nothing but heartbreak. For all concerned. “I have heard of the one my Father speaks of. The Serpent. They say, she is the General to the Warlord. A woman of great beauty but her heart is cold as ice. Frozen solid. They say, she strikes out of nowhere, like a viper. Her fangs filled with poison. Her spirit is that of a Naga.” The child said with a look of absolute fear. <3>

IceTe3a: – He listens to the young woman carefully to her questions, of course she would object to this, unfortunately it was her burden of being born into a rich family, Ronin was never one to hide the truth or not offer insult where it is needed, extending an arm in front of him he points for her to sit before bringing his arm back to the table “Life is unfortunate you will realize this sooner than later, the best we can do is make the best of what we are given in life. Your father is a greedy man, and life has cursed him for his sins and evil ways in the physical sense for all to see, He will pay the price for that in his own ways this you can be sure of” he stops to mediate on the questions she had “You are right to question this marriage although it only sees more title and coin into your fathers hand, there seems to be no actual need for this tie between families, if I am to understand your father is more than well off it is simply greed that drives him, this is his curse and your burden for being born into this family; hardly your fault but something you must live with. Weigh your options well young miss and give the man a chance, for life has its surprises in store.” He falls quiet for but a moment before gaining that sharp look back into his eyes “ You say this serpent is a ‘she’? How unusual, what more do you know of her, please do not hold anything back” Indeed the Serpent, would prove to be a harder foe than what he first thought, a female and a general obviously an extremely skilled warrior in her fields of combat, This will be an interesting night.

CharlotteCarrendar: – The Ronin made clear that the girl was best to go with the agreed marriage, and give the man a chance to prove his worth as a husband. But a life without love, is a life half lived. The dealings of her father weigh upon his family and they ultimately pay the price for his misadventures. Surely on his death the daughter would stand to inherit great wealth, and perhaps then and only then build the life for herself, however at this point in time, it appeared that she would end up losing it all to the Dragon. Her lands would become his. But the news of the Serpent, did bring back the Ronin’s undivided attention. An unknown foe is a terrible threat. In order to defeat the unknown you must endeavour to find out as much as you possibly can. “A woman, yes. Raised by a gang of thieves and murderers. I heard the head of guards, who had been travelling in the mountains speak of tales around a camp fire of this woman. A mere babe, who went on to become the most powerful of the Warlord’s men. Taught to use the bow, and skilled in armed and unarmed combat. They say she has eyes that hypnotise you. A body so slender and lithe, that she can curl up so tight like a snake and be put in a box that you would think could barely fit an infant. I thought she was just a myth, but my love -The Warlord’s son said this was true, when I asked him, when I had run away from home.” By the looks of things, the bond between the Warlord’s son and this girl was a great one, and he was willing to die to get her back. <3>

IceTe3a: – The news of the new female warrior was one that constantly played in Ronins mind ‘The serpent’ he thought to himself it’s uncommon for a female to be in such a position, she must be extremely well skilled to gain the respect of her fellow men. He was sure about one thing, he would need to keep an eye out for her, but if he knew about her, do they know about his presence? He would need to make up a plan, Perhaps sticking to the shadows and wait for them to strike coming in at the last moment? But that would leave Rikken open to a long distance attack, as ‘The Serpent’ was skilled in the bow, he would need to keep close to deflect any arrows or even perhaps take a hit for the old man, But to make himself stand out, they would surely pick him from a mile away. That’s it, He would blend in with the crowd of royalty, Make it harder to pick out who he was, by arming the royal families and nobles with decretive katanas that would allow him to wear his without being the sore one out in the crowd. This is necessary if any of the rumors prove true, it is better to over prepare than be caught unprepared, He summoned the same guard from before who just returned to his post “ I want you to collect all the decorative swords in the building and hand them out to the noble families men and Royal family men that enter, do not ask why and do not give answer to those who ask, Just insist. This includes Rikken” the guard nodded and runs off to do what was asked of him, Ronin glances over at the young lady as a small smile appears on his face “Do not threat your path will show itself to you eventually, you are still young. Now I believe you are to start getting ready for the ceremony” He said in a low tone as the smile disappeared, he came to a stand, gave the young lady a respectful bow and awaited for her to leave, Surely the guests would start to arrive soon, Ronin needed to prepare for tonight’s events.

CharlotteCarrendar: – And so the guard did go about the large palatial compound, and gather together all the decorative katanas that could be found. They were to be worn by all nobles and dignitaries so the Ronin could blend in, and take the mark off his own hide, to allude the would be assassins, that were bound to strike in the midst of the procession, or the handing over of the bride to the Dragon’s son. The daughter of Rikken sadly nodded and then bowed to the Ronin. Though his words were wise they could not remove the sadness that swelled in her young heart. The girl left the room, and so to the procession would begin…very soon. :: The large battle drums on the gates of the township began to beat in a rhythm to alert the people that the Dragon and his men were approaching on horseback. Two rows of twenty men, with the Dragon and his son at the lead. Behind them a special canopy covered wagon that was to take away the blushing bride back to the land of the Dragon. The Dragon himself was wearing woollen armour with leather shoulder plates, and gauntlets. The old warrior must have been at least 70 years old, and his son, a man in his fifties, rode alongside him, wearing similar garb. The large wooden gates of the township opened, to allow the procession of the Dragon’s men through, while fire crackers sounded off to welcome the travelling party. Bright banners were held aloft with the symbol of the dragon fluttering proudly. Children and the young at heart waved and cheered to see such might, while coming along behind them was a travelling band of performers and circus artists. Musicians too. A very festive occasion. One girl was riding a white pony, doing tricks and handstands, while a fire eater continued to light up the air above him. Sword swallowers and snake charmers on carts. This was to be a celebration to remember. On the steps of the grand house, Rikken had returned, wearing his ceremonial dress, complete with hat, and large gold sash, his daughter, whose face was shielded by a veil stood well in back. Nobles and the royals, all wearing the decorative katanas lined the stairs. Everything was in readiness. <3>

IceTe3a: – Ronin was sin meditation when he heard the great noise and commotion signaling the arrival of the guests and the party to begin within minutes, he gave himself a small moment to complete meditation before coming to a stand, walking out to the balcony he viewed over everyone around the grounds that his eyes fell upon, he knew none of them, he hoped that Rikken would not advise his honored guests of exactly who Ronin was, otherwise news might slip and his cover blown, the guards did well for what they were worth, everyone who was to wear a decorative blade was wearing one, allowing Ronin to blend into the crowd. Walking past the guards he gave one last word of advice “Keep on your toes, blood will spill tonight” before walking off to join Rikken, who was no doubt already out amongst the crowd boasting his title and wealth to come into his hands, not exactly the type of place Ronin would be at if he had any choice, but this was a job to one that would help him find his sister, come morning once all was done he would ask Rikken if he knew anything about his sister. But for now he must stay on the job He knew what the young boy looked like and who he was, but this Serpent, was female she could blend into the crowd without anyone noticing, she could be standing right next to him and he wouldn’t realize it… his eyes shift to either side of him just to reassure himself, Or she could sneak in somehow, the possibilities of a skilled warrior was endless. Finally he joined Rikken at his side, amongst the crowd ready to defend Rikken at any given time, studying the crowd he said in a low voice so only Rikken could hear “ If you see any Female with a noble or royal that you do not know, you must tell me subtly as soon as you can” attempting to stop one way of entry although this would hardly be possible since Rikken would be to busy stuffing his face and boasting his title higher than it was.

CharlotteCarrendar: – So much colour and noise. People cheering, banners waving, and trumpets blasting. It only added to the confusion of the moment, when the Dragon and his men pulled up at the base of the stairs of the fine house of Rikken. Getting off his horse first, the Dragon stood proudly. His face was one of little emotion. He had seen and done much in his life, and this was merely a transaction to assure the blood line of the Dragon continue. The son’s other wives had failed to produce an heir. This was the whole point of the marriage. A son. The Son of the Dragon got off his horse as the soldiers they had with them remained on theirs. Eagle eyes watching in all directions for enemy movement on say the town walls, or the houses themselves. Rikken revelled in the fan fare, the music, the fireworks being blasted and of course the circus performers who continued to wow the crowd with their spectacular show. With the Ronin now at his employer’s side, Rikken felt a whole lot better about the situation. At least he could take comfort to know he would survive this meeting, and thus could carry out the deal that was struck. A priest, that had been chosen before the agreement came out from the nearby temple, and with him a procession of monks in hooded cloaks, that kept their hands pressed up deep into their sleeves. Heads bowed, the twelve monks were in two lines and they approached the stairs chanting an ancient hymn. The Son of the Dragon knelt and bowed his head to the bride’s father – who showed respect by bowing in return before calling his daughter forward. The child bride took the three steps forward and kept her head down. It was time. The priest mounted the stairs and then stood between the Son of the dragon and the Bride to be. He took out a book and started to recite in an old text that drowned out many of the crowd, who now wished to hear the priest’s words. At that precise moment, there was a whistling sound, and the Dragon who had been standing to attention suddenly jerked violently, before a metal prong jutted forth from his forehead. He had been shot with some sort of poisoned dart, and blood now trickled down his forehead as he dropped to his knees. The Dragon…was dead. Panic ensued, as the crowd started to scream and shout, trying to scatter, while Rikken let out a roar of protest. “BASTARDS!” The monks then threw back their hoods, and their cloaks, revealing katanas, and started to attack the nobles nearest to the Ronin and Rikken, as the son of the Dragon tried to grab the bride and drag her back to the canopy covered wagon. The Dragon’s men all started to fight the townspeople, as the whole scene was now turning into a blood bath. Standing on top of the white horse that had been with the circus was the beautiful horse dancer. She lowered the blow pipe and grinned. It was the Serpent. <3>

IceTe3a: – Everything seemed to be going as planned, for now at least, though if Ronin knew anything the tides could turn at any moment. So many things going on around so many people, it was almost too much, this was a circumstance that could not be helped he just had to deal with the issue once it arose. Suddenly all hell broke loose, a dart had hit the dragon in the head killing him instantly, this did not bother Ronin for the dragon was not in his contract to protect, the monks stripped their hoods back to reveal katana’s amongst other weapons, Damn the guards to hell for not checking them first, it was all happening so quickly the Dragons men were turning against innocent people striking in a blind rage to try and find the enemy and then, there she was ontop of a white horse, he had spotted ‘The Serpent’ for the first time, the rumors about her were true, all of them. Quickly he ripped off his kimono fully to show him wearing long black pants held on by a belt of sorts his chest was bare to show the scars of his previous battles this allowed him to move more freely whilst attacking, drawing a single katana deciding to use the Ittoryu fighting style ( Single blade combat) would be more than enough for now, Calling to Rikkens gaurds he bellowed above the screams “ Surround RIkken and protect him with your lives” grabbing the daughter out of her husband’s to be arms he pushed her towards Rikken then turned to grab the husband to be “ Keep with your father young miss, Guards surround them both keep close to me but out of my way” turning to the husband he glares at him before shoving him backward “Control your men’s top the onslaught of the innocent and bark orders for them to deal with these monks, It is your duty as Husband to be to honor your title by protecting your father inlaw and wife as well as revenging your father’s death, I will deal with the Serpent” With that he ran off into the fight hoping RIkken’s men would do as they were told “ SERPENT” he bellowed as he threw a shrunken towards her. Coming up to two of the faceless monks with katanas drawn he engaged battle with them, they were trained in the form but not as well as he as he glided through them cutting with precision to disarm and disable, he was sure the monks were not skilled warriors but he also knew the serpent and her other agent would be a lot harder than that of the monks. Moving in-between the dragons men deflecting their blows from killing the innocent he barks orders at them “ Listen to your General Go after the monks leave the crowd alone” as he tossed man after man aside hoping they would regain their senses. Picking up speed he jumped up on top of a wall to get a clear running path towards the serpent as he ran with full force, the circus how could he be so stupid to forget about the circus. Closing in the gap between them he was close enough to make a jump, bending at the knee’s he threw two shrunken this time but aimed them at the horses head attempting to hit and kill the horse, landing meters away from ‘The Serpent’ he stood tall “So you are The Serpent, A woman warrior”

CharlotteCarrendar: – The hira shuriken struck the horse’s head with deadly accuracy, causing the horse to rear up, with blood spewing out of from the embedded star weapons. The Serpent, who was incredibly agile did a double somersault backflip, that had her land upon the circus cart, which was filled with her men, dressed in brightly coloured costumes. The Ronin, who was now standing a few feet from the dead horse called to her. “So you are the Serpent. A woman warrior.” The Serpent simply held her head up proudly, as all around her was chaos and madness. “No…I am merely a distraction.” She was right, for as the guards surrounded Rikken and the bride, the fire breather had broken through the crowd, and with a mouthful of a volatile cocktail, he spewed it forth and the man known as Rikken caught fire. His fine silken robes turned him into a human torch, along with a few guards, who screamed in agony, while the bride had become separated from the pack. The son of the Dragon was trying desperately to get his men to listen and stop attacking the villagers, when the snake handler came up behind him and dropped a viper upon his shoulder – the snake biting down hard on the thick neck of the would be groom, who screamed and flailed, trying to dislodge the angered snake. The Bride was now running down the stairs, trying to get through guards and people, to reach the Ronin, when a man on a black horse, one of the Dragon’s own guards seized her up and pulled her onto the back of the horse. He removed his helm, and it was the Warlord’s son. Slamming his heels into the horse the pair spirited off towards the town gates, as the Serpent laughed. She spun on her heel and made a run across the cart, diving onto the back of an unmaned horse and tore off after the bride and the Warlord’s son at speed. The burning remains of the bride’s father – Rikken, were nothing but a bloody and smoking mess. Death..had come to town. <3>

IceTe3a: – Ronin had failed his contract, this was a well orchestrated attack Something Ronin was not able to stop with such poorly trained guards, and a fat man who was to greedy, it seemed life had taught Rikken his last lesson in life. He watched the daughter running towards him only to get pinched by the warlords son, they were now riding off into the distance glancing back at the serpent she was making her escape by horse too, all the commotion had spooked the horses as they all started running in the same direction as the warlords son and the serpent. Ronin hit the floor hard with each foot picking up the pace, slicing through enemies as he passed, not caring if it killed or disabled them, he had to catch up to them or at least the horses to stand a chance. Jumping on top of the outer wall he ran parallel with the horses although the wall was about to end soon, with a quick judgment and a bend in the knee’s Ronin flew up into the air, soaring into the dark skies leaving the bloody fiery mess behind him as he judged he landed smoothly on top of a saddled horse, standing on top of the saddled horse as it ran towards the gate within the same path as the serpent, Ronin jumped from horse back to horseback reaching the closet horse he could. “ A warlords son, and a Female assassin Running from the battlefield, how the rumors were wrong about the both of you, you both dishonor the way of the sword and the warlord himself!!” Ronin bellowed into the night sky in order to taunt the young boy to turn and fight. Taking control of the horse he galloped ahead attempting to close in the yards between them. He needed to catch up, he needed to get the daughter back at least, quickly grabbing three shurkien he tossed them towards the serpents direction and then again towards the warlords son, attempting to force them to turn and face him.

CharlotteCarrendar: – The Ronin was fearless and without a doubt an expert marksman to be able to throw hira shuriken with such accuracy whilst riding a horse at incredible speed. His cry that they had no honor, was to fall to the wind, for the Warlord’s son was not about to give up his bride, after being double crossed by Rikken in the first place. He had paid for her, and now she was his. The hira shuriken that were thrown towards the serpent, two hit her back, causing her to scream out in pain, while the other missed the couple as they now were going even faster to get free from the incensed Ronin. This was where the game changed. The Serpent now injured rounded her horse and then started to ride directly at the Ronin, again she was playing her role as a distraction, so ordered by the Warlord himself. A free hand she took out her blow pipe and then raised it to her lips, aiming for the Ronin’s chest, blasting as much air as she could, hoping to knock him from his horse. <3>

IceT3a: – The taunt had no effect on them as they continued riding on, finally some good news he heard the female scream out in pain, a sound he was all too pleased to hear, As she said she was the distraction. But how he figured it, she was also the information, he would settle for either one, she would give him what information he needed to know, watching her carefully as she turned her horse to ride directly towards him. “so this is the game we are to play so be it” Noticing she raised her dart and seeing the damage from it before, this was defiantly a dangerous weapon, most likely poisonous tips. As they got closer he sheathed his sword, got onto his knees on the horse waited until the gap was close enough. ‘ Breath slow.. Aim.. * Heavy heart beat* concentrate.. CONCENTRATE HARDER *wack against the back of his head* ‘ Memories playing in the back of his mind of his old master, Ronin jumps off the horseback into a spiraling spin dodging as many of the darts as he could, One hit his left arm that was for sure, he could feel it digging in. With open arms he was heading directly towards the serpent mid flight to tackle her off her horse. The poison would have to wait until later, If he caught her in his arms they both would be sent flying down towards the ground depending who won the spin would cause the outcome of who landed on top of who.

CharlotteCarrendar: – The Ronin was one tricky bastard – sheathing his sword and prepared to leap from his horse with his knees bent to give extra propulsion. One of the darts did manage to strike the Ronin, but it was now a game of tit for tat. She was injured from the hira shuriken strike and so was he by her poison darts. He lunged at her with both arms open, and successfully caught her causing both to fall from the horse and roll onto the ground, where she dug her heel into the dirt and came up to land on top of him. The dart plainly visible in his arm, she knew that if he didn’t get treatment, he would die within the next two hours. Breathing heavily, she forced her weight on him and stared him down. “Death comes to you, my friend, and the antidote is at the town you just left. You have a choice. Die out here, or go back to that village and get saved. The circus snake charmer holds the cure. That Rikken must have paid you enough to buy it.” The Serpent watched his face to see if he was going to submit to his fate, or save himself. <3>

IceTe3a: – His arms wrapping around her as they both pummel towards the ground spinning from top to bottom, he could feel the effects of the poison slowly start to seep through his body, although she was also wounded, finally hitting the ground with a thud, he felt weird as if his chest was heavy opening his eyes to look up only to see the serpent sitting on top of him pressing her weight down onto him, a cure for his poisoned body, she asks him to throw away his honor, as if she knew anything about honor to start with. He grips under her thigh of her right leg using her weight against her he reverses the position, forcing her to turn down onto her back with his knees between her legs his free hand pressing down on her shoulder to add pressure to her back wound “I prefer the top, Two hours is more than ample time to deal with you” he said in a low and cold tone before flipping back onto one palm then again onto his feet and once more in the same order to get distance, by that time he stood tall his right hand behind his back with his katana drawn the blade ran up against his back and peered out of his left side as his long hair waved in the wind. He was in the fighting style ( Single blade combat) he would attempt to prepare the Hiryu Kaen style as stood there. Raising his left hand in front of him open palmed he gave a signal to come attack him. “ What is your goal in this, Where is she being taken”

CharlotteCarrendar: – The Serpent let out a scream of pain as the Ronin rolled her over in a fantastic manoeuvrer that gave him a one upmanship against her. Stupid man, she thought. All this moving just makes the poison travel quicker through his blood stream. With the hira shuriken buried deeper within the Serpent’s back, she was in a great deal of pain. But her resolve had not left her. As he flipped to standing and unsheathed his single blade, he asked her simply. “What is your goal in this, where is she being taken?” But at that precise moment, a bowmen from the Warlord’s camp that had been waiting on the other side of the dune, fired an arrow at the back of the Ronin’s knee, sure to score a hit. This should drive him to the ground. The bowmen could have killed him, but if they did that, he would never learn anything. This is when the Serpent took up the Ronin’s horse and simply looked at him and said. “To a place where men do not go back on their word. Good bye…Ronin.” With that she leapt on the horse and rode off, leaving the Ronin there, as she joined the rest of the Warlord’s men, in taking the bride back to the Warlord’s lands. <3>

Taking a deep steadying breath, she moved to step out into the light of the day. The doorway wasn’t wide enough for two people and she had to press against him to ease her way out. What she was NOT expecting was the surge of lust that went through her as their bodies brushed together. She bit back a moan by sheer willpower alone as she quickly moved away from him. She didn’t dare look him in the eye, instead she proceeded him down the path to their (well hers now that she thought about it) father’s hut, in the center of the village.

She ignored the younger warriors who eyed her striding figure. She was done with overeager possessive men and it would be a cold day in Valhalla before she let another man get that close to her again. She gave them her fiercest glare, causing a few of them to turn tail and run. It was no secret in their village that Eyyrs despised men on general principals…and now she had even more reason to loathe the species.

Except for Valkrik.

There was something about him…

“I’m ready.” she nodded. He yanked open the door and she followed him inside, walking behind his large frame as he parted the crowd easily.

Over his shoulder she could see her father speaking cheerfully with one of the women, the Vollan leader from the looks of it. He spotted Valkrik first, not seeming to notice that Eyyrs was behind him.

“Son…this darling creature was just asking about you. Why not sit here and join us for ale.”

At that, Eyyrs frowned fiercely, wondering what their father was up to. She couldn’t help but feel a little protective of Valkrik after what she found out about him.

“Or maybe you’re a bit possessive because you’re lusting after him.” a voice cropped up in her mind. She punched that voice in the face, mentally stabbing it with her sword before burying it out to sea. Valkrik was not hers to claim. He was raised as her brother for Odin’s sake!

But it didn’t stop her mind from picturing him naked and laying among her furs. What the hell was wrong with her?

Snarling, more angry with herself and the situation she suddenly found herself in, she turned on her heel and left the Inn. She couldn’t be around him one more second or she would end up doing something foolish. She went to her stable where Vor greeted her with a flicker of ears. She quickly climbed onto his back and kicked him into a gallop, making for the path to the Bluffs of Vanir for a quiet moment of reflection.

-Natsiya shared in laughter with Honrick. Not all the men they encountered pissed there pants when they saw the giant wolves, but it was more then it should have been. But it was a hilarious thought. He had her attention that was sure, she needed to bring up the issue now, if it was a good chance as any, and if the people in the Inn over heard well, so be it, the more the merrier perhaps some might even help the pack free lance if the chief wasn’t very interested.

They grew silent for a moment as Natsiya thought how to approach the subject and she opened her mouth to speak, Honrick beat her to the punch, “Have you been introduced to my son Valkrik? He is a fierce fighter, and I dare say he would be able to sire very strong young.”

Natsiya blinked and chuckled shaking her head, “nay, not that I can recall Honrick, and I’m sure your boy could quite possibly sire strong young, but Vollan women like there men submissive” she said, mostly sounding plight considering the fact that the human male couldn’t sir young with a Vollan female even if he fucked every female in the pack till his balls fell off, well, that is if that was what Honrick was implying.

Now it was her turn to speak, “Honrick, I sought you out because Vollan has a problem, it’s a pack of werewolves…”she managed to tell him, and suddenly that conversation ended fairly quickly as Honrick smiled and waved down someone who had just entered the Inn.

“Son…this darling creature was just asking about you. Why not sit here and join us for ale.” 

Natsiya turned on her bar stool and looked up at the man he was implying to, her nostrils flared in-taking the scent of the room, she caught a hint of blood, but it was gone as quickly as she picked it up, washed away by the smell of alcohol. For a moment her ice blue eyes narrowed slightly, the primal side of her showing, before the human facade returned.

Now she saw the man, and a different primal side of her reared it’s ugly head, the man was as large as a Vollan male, but he wasn’t in any way a submissive like them, he would have been, in best comparison, the son of an Alpha Bitch. She stared at a side of her urging her to challenge him right there in the Inn, where that came from she wouldn’t ask, instead she cracked a half smile and nodded her head a little, her snow white hair falling forward just a little bit into her face before looking up at him again.-

Valkrik was more than aware, that his sister had taken her leave, probably due to the fact she had totally been disregarded by her Father, as he set about trying to get Valkrik to meet his drinking companion. A Vallan of all things. Valkrik, looked over his shoulder to see Eyyrs leave, and grumbled under his breath, before turning his attentions back to the white haired maiden, that was really only showing him vague interest. Valkrik wasn’t interested. Not remotely. He just had heard such tales of how the Vollan women were dominant in their society and preferred their men to be….well submissive. Valkrick was anything but. If he was going to take a woman, he wanted to be on top…literally.

Taking up a mug of ale, all he did was grunt towards the female, then turned his attention back to his Father.

“We were to go to your brother’s house…to prepare for the final voyage.” Valkrik said sternly, before glancing back at the white haired woman. She had spoken to Honrick about her problem with a pack of were wolves. Supernaturals. Valkrik took a large swig of his ale and slammed down the tankard, before belching loudly.

“We are Ghar. Vikings of the North. Why we go after werewolves…when they do not attack this settlement?”

Honrick frowned. It seemed like Valkrik was not wanting to help the Vollan, who were trade partners of the Ghar for many years.

“Because, it is part of our treaty.”

“Bah. I wait outside.” Valkrik pushed back his chair, and then thundered out of the Inn, leaving many whispering as to his demeanor. Honrick looked to where he had gone, and sighed.

“My son and his men, have just returned from a voyage and war on the southern lands. He is probably tired. Needs to rut!” He said with some confidence. The Chief then asked Natsiya. “What do you need from us?”

<3>

The Bluffs of Vanir were a beautiful yet peaceful place. Eyyrs often came when she needed to be alone and think. No one bothered her and although most knew of the place, they understood it was her private place and didn’t intrude upon her.

Climbing from Vor, she let him wander to graze as she made her way to the small stream that was traveling through the landscape. With a sigh, she sat down, staring out at the water, her chin resting upon her knees.

It had not been the best of days for her.

Valkrik coming home, and that thing with Soren, then finding out about Valkrik’s true origins and her sudden attraction to him…

“Why can’t my life be easy?” she sighed, pressing her head to her knees.

She climbed to her feet, slipping off her boots and setting them aside. Gathering up her skirts, she pulled them to her thighs and stepped into the stream, walking along the shoreline and chuckling when small fish grew too curious for their own good and nibbled at her toes.

The afternoon sun shone down upon her and in that moment of solitude, she was simply a woman enjoying her time alone, keeping thoughts of Valkrik from her mind.

Yes, no one with a brain bothered Eyyrs when she was in her special place, but that did not mean that others would find their way there, some had even claimed this spot for its spiritual significance long before Eyyrs was born. One such woman, was the Angel of Death. She had a name of course, but over the years, many had simply forgotten it. Oddly enough, the shaman did not age. One would expect that since she had been with the clan over two hundred years, that she should be pushing up flowers, but not this woman. With vibrant flowing red hair, and wearing the most scantily clad kit you had dared see on a woman, she was a sight to behold. Perfect rounded breasts, and an ass where many a Ghar male would have loved to have prodded her, but she also frightened many with her secretive ways, and the Chief had the highest respect for her. Able to speak of prophesies that came into fruition. There was no mistaking that this day….another had come to pass.

And so Eyyrs remained completely unaware that she was being watched.

“Heh….so daughter of Honrick, waking dreams are of a man you….simply can’t have.”

She walked into the clearing, carrying a large staff and tilted her head as she planted the tip of the staff into the grass. “So powerful you think you are. Men fall for you, like the petals fall from the blossoms, and yet…he is out of your reach.”

The Angel of Death teased Eyyrs and then took out a bag of bones, shaking them in her direction.

“THE BONES DON’T LIE!”

Her hand finally stopped shaking, and the eyes of the Angel of Death turned the deepest shade of green. She cast her gaze down at the water, and there she saw a bright red fish. Gasping, she looked at Eyyrs again and sneered. “So…blood was spilt and all for you. He is indeed powerful, but his emotional feelings for you….will bring him undone.”

She was speaking of course about Valkrik, and was not about to let up. She used her staff to capture the fish, striking it true with the pointed end. She stared at the fish, as it open and closed it’s mouth desperately to be put back in the sea.

“A horseman, cannot ride to be with Odin….unless he is given the proper rites.”

It was clear, the fish was a symbol of the death of the Quarter Master in the waters high above where they were now. The Shaman then softened her face, as she tossed the fish back into the watery pool.

“Find a simple man…have many babies…be happy. No good can come from you laying with HIM!” She warned, again shaking the bones at her violently.

<3>

Elves weren’t exactly the most discreet folk when about in other lands. Especially Sindarin, or Wood-elves. With long white hair and observant blue eyes, they attracted even more attention than the Silvan elves with only pointed ears and perfect complexion to show for their longevity. (Though, most elves do have long hair.) Ernil, our brave young warrior of only four hundred and nine, was seeking the Chief of Ghar. Of course, Ernil had never seen anything other than an Elf until now. With lots of humans around him, it was hard to say any looked Chiefly. Most of them just looked… boring. Of course, his only comparison were his own, vastly majestic people, and these Men were not exactly kings of their kind. He stopped in the middle of the square, gazing around, hoping to see someone wearing a crown or something, so he could be done with this task. He’d not wanted to leave the walls, but his Queen had insisted. She’d been looking frantically for her children and King, and hadn’t even taken the time to be kind about her request. He knew that he had to do it then, because she was so worried. While he stood there, lost in his thoughts of how horribly he loved the royal family, Ernil didn’t notice a few prostitutes begin to make their way towards him, nor did he notice the sailors on his other side take note of that and draw up their sleeves as they too walked toward the poor Elf-ling like moths to a light.

She stared at him openly and it dawned on her that she had met this man, a long time ago, when she was still a pup riding on her mothers lap into the village to make trade. This was a long time ago, when her mother was still alive, and still Vollan’s Alpha. She didn’t recall really liking him then either, he really was an alpha male, and even as a child, she wanted to challenge him for his dominance, it was her nature.

Mentally shaking her head she didn’t want THAT side of her coming to the surface, the wolf that she could turn into with a blink of the eye.

“We were to go to your brother’s house…to prepare for the final voyage.” Valkirck said drawing her attention back to reality, she realized they were having a conversion with out her.

Natsiya glanced at Honrick, “i did not know there was a death, My apologies to your loss,” she said bowing her head momentarily.

That was when he had so rudely belched in her direction, don’t get her wrong she has had her fair share of disgusting males, and she herself has let one rip, but at least she was decent enough to turn her head.

“We are Ghar. Vikings of the North. Why we go after werewolves…when they do not attack this settlement?”

Natsiya was suprised at is statement and her mouth fell opened just a little. his father was frowning, now that was offedning, and in her opinion she should be allowed to smack him a few times. But she was better then that, she snapped her mouth shut and narrowed her gaze at him.

“Because, it is part of our treaty.” his father responded and to make sure the point got across Natsiya finally spoke to the man,“These ‘werewolves’ haven’t attacked your settlement because they have to cross Vollan territory to get to it…” she spoke up but he didn’t even let her finish as he got up saying he would go wait outside, today was just interupt Natsiya day wasn’t it.

“My son and his men, have just returned from a voyage and war on the southern lands. He is probably tired. Needs to rut!” He said with some confidence. The Chief then asked her “What do you need from us?” 

Natsiya glaring at his retreating back she spoke, “well….as I was saying…they out number Vollan, and are willing to fight us for our territory….then will make there way here, and That is not the worse of it…they are breeding with the Cursed Ones, werewolves that started out human.” she said and made a grim face, “an attack from them, and a human will lose there mine to the wolf the first full moon,” she said.

“for now, until we know more what we are fighting, all I can ask of Ghar is to provide Vollan with some weapons, preferably some with silver in it, if you can provide it, Vollan men have been going into mountain caves this past winter trying to find a silver vein, but we’ve had no success yet, if you can get these iteams for me…I give you this entire seasons stock of hunting wolves, of course accept those that we need to continue the breeding line,” she said.

“I will not ask Ghar to fight in this battle, I do not wish your people to be…harmed by this….curses and all, they have only challenged my Clan for now,” she added looking at Honrick with sincerity. -

“Greetings, Honored One. How fair you this day?” Eyyrs greeted.

“Heh….so daughter of Honrick, waking dreams are of a man you….simply can’t have.”

That stopped Eyyrs in her tracks. It was said that the Shaman woman had ways to know things that others didn’t and Eyyrs was seriously worried.

“So powerful you think you are. Men fall for you, like the petals fall from the blossoms, and yet…he is out of your reach.”

She shook her bag of bones at the young woman. “THE BONES DON’T LIE!”

She made several more readings there by the stream, frightening Eyyrs into a stunned silence. She gave Eyyrs one last piece of advice.

“Find a simple man…have many babies…be happy. No good can come from you laying with HIM!” she warned before disappearing as silently as she came.

Eyyrs stood trembling in place for a long moment. The Shaman woman was correct. She needed to forget every feeling of attraction she held for Valkrik. And to do that…

“I must leave the village.” she mumbled to herself. “I cannot stay, seeing him every waking moment of the day and not want to be with him. Yes…I will leave tonight, under the cover of darkness. No one need to know.” she nodded to herself, determined to follow through with her plan. Calling for Vor, she headed back to her home to begin packing a few of her belongings.

It would be dangerous for her, a single woman out in the wilds alone and she would miss her mother and father…but the risks far outweight the consequences if she were to stay.

As Valkrik waited outside the Shackled Inn for his father, the Chieftain; it seemed there was a disturbance within the village square by the arrival of a strange looking man. He stood out not just by the clothes he wore, but also by the fact he had oddly shaped ears. Clearly, this being was not human, nor a Norseman.

Already a large group of vikings that had been unloading the ships, could see this man standing looking lost in the village square, and the interest in him was mounting. Though the Vikings were generally considerate and welcoming to traders and travelers, this particular fellow stood out like dogs balls.

With shield in hand, Valkrik approached the lost looking individual, and then spoke with heavy norse accent.

“Here to trade, or are you lost?’ It was a perfectly logical set of questions, though not exactly welcoming. Already Valkrik had had the worst day of his life, and his patience had already been pushed beyond it’s limits. A few vikings in the back ground bared their teeth at the elf man, as Valkrik awaited an answer.

The Shackled Inn

Though Valkrik had left his father in the Inn with the Vollan woman, he was still interested to hear why the plight about the werewolves was so dangerous, he did suddenly find that Natsiya was after trade of silver based weapons, that could be used to fight off the werewolves. Their own mountains were depleted of silver threads, and Honrick happened to know that the ship Valkrik had sailed back on, was loaded with weapons and bounty, including silver based weapons, such as spear tips, and swords. This was one of the reasons the voyages were always profitable for the vikings. Not only did they get slaves, goods, and weapons from the dead on the battle field, it also meant that they were viewed as a much stronger trading partner.

“Come down to the boats, and you will see what we have available. I think you will find what you are in need of, and I would gladly take the hunting wolves as payment.”

The chieftain rose from his wooden bench, and then gestured to Natsiya for her to follow him outside the Inn.

<3>

Ernil was about ready to draw his bow at the snarling men, but their leader seemed to be decent enough. He very quietly drew out an ornately folded letter on pristine paper with the seal of Celandiam keeping it together and bowed. “Message for the Chieftain from the Lady of the Last Homely House, sir.” It didn’t matter to the Elf that this man might not even be anywhere near the ruling class. He wanted to be home as soon as possible. He was tired of carting around messages, and this trip (though it was his first outside the hidden city’s walls) was no exception to his lack of enthusiasm. He looked up at the stranger through his long lashes as he waited for the Viking to take the letter from him, praying to high heaven that he would. Letters from Celandiam were always heavy, both with the burden of knowing it was an important message and the fact that his beloved Queen like to use a lot of words. A lot being an impressively massive understatement of understatements.

Despite the activity going on around the village, Eyyrs made it back to her hut without incident. She slipped inside and immediately began to gather her things, shoving them into her travel sack without bothering to make it neat. She needed to put some distance between herself and her…well she didn’t know what Valkrik was to her now. She just needed to be away from him.

Once her things were packed, she set the sack near the door next to her shield before she sat down to check the sharpness of her blade. It was dull in spots and she set about sharpening it as much as she was able.

She knew things were going to be rough for her, being out on her own.

“No good can come from you laying with HIM!” the Shaman woman’s words haunted her thoughts once more. She shook her head.

“I will not think of it any longer. It’s for the best that I go.” she whispered to herself.

Amid the hustle and bustle in the great dining halls there was a single Valkyrie who stood by Odin’s side in complete silence obviously she meant a great deal to Odin who was engrossed in conversation with a lesser Valkyrie who nodded before walking away and out of the great hall where the fallen where brought. It was then Odin turned to the Valkyrie at his side before he spoke with a deep baritone voice. “Go find Valkrik of Ghar and watch over him…Luna….” Luna nodded silently before she opened her voluminous wings and took flight leaving the great hall. As she left the great hall Odin would watch her intently before shrugging and going back to resting in his throne. Once Luna had left the great hall she would make a stop at her humble abode which was not a few feet away from her god’s great hall for the fallen. While there she grabbed her trusty long sword and her shield as well before making her way down to Midgard the realm of the mortals.

The Village Square 

A sudden gust of wind blew through the village square where Valkrik stood as the clouds in the skies parted to allow the passage of a great being. Slowly on wings of white down Luna descended into the village square her sword drawn and shield at hand, though both hung at her sides for the moment. The Valkyrie was dressed in a low cut leather tunic and leather leggings both brown in color. Her helmet carried upon its sides a pair of wings signifying the power she carried within her body. Speaking of her body it was well toned and lithe in its grace as she walked towards Valkrik while speaking with a voice laden with power and authority. “Which one of you is Valkrik of Ghar?” As she spoke her emerald eyes would scan the crowd as they backed away in fear of the mighty Valkyrie. Such fear brought a slight smile to her face before she spoke again this time with a slightly annoyed tone. “I said which of you is Valkrik of Ghar….I wish to have words with the warrior….” It was quite clear that Valkrik had better step and soon or the Valkyrie would leave in the same way she had come. As she waited in the midst of the square looking about her wings would ruffle slightly before folding against her back for the time being.

By now, the center of focus for many Vikings both male and female, was on the elf that had wandered right into a very dangerous position. “Message for the Chieftain from the Lady of the Last Homely House, sir.” One of the larger Vikings, Asgaut stepped forward, as Valkrik was about to accept the letter from Ernil.

“Who be the fool with such pointy ears to expect the Chieftain to read words from a Elven Queen, hmm?” Asguat, who happened to be Valkrik’s cousin rubbed his stubbled chin, and sneered at Ernil. “Valkrik…could be a trick. I sense treachery.” the beast of a blonde man growled, ready to shove the elf to the ground with his spiked shield. Already with many out in the square, this was turning into a spectacle, that could end two ways. A dead elf, or…a very badly beaten up one.

Just then Honrick emerged from the Shackled Inn with Natsiya, only to see the disturbance, and then ogre like Asguat looking set to start a fight.

“STEP ASIDE, ALL OF YOU!” The Cheiftan bellowed, as he pushed his way through the fur and leather clad throng. Finally getting to the center of the action, he saw the envelope being held by Ernil and asked his son “What is this?’ Valkrik replied with little emotion. “An Elven messenger with a death wish. he brings word from the Lady of the Last Homely House.”More or less recited word for word, so that nothing was missed. The Chieftan raised a hairy brow and then snatched the letter, tearing it open. He muttered loudly and then turned to one of his advisors, a short statured man with a large staff. “I can’t read this!” He roared, now getting more than just annoyed. The advisor, who was a well travelled man took the letter and started to read it to the Chieftain.

With the matter now in the hands of the Chieftan and the council advisor, Valkrik withdrew from the crowd, no longer seeing himself as needed in such events. Clearly, he was over the whole supernatural show that was taking place, and it only made his insides churn for his own secret was now barely able to be concealed. Course…when it rains…it pours.

“Which one of you is Valkrik of Ghar?” 

The voice was one of authority, however it was that of a woman. A woman who was dressed in in a low cut leather tunic and leather leggings both brown in color. Her helmet carried upon its sides a pair of wings signifying the power she carried within her body. She was a Valkyrie

“I said which of you is Valkrik of Ghar….I wish to have words with the warrior….”

Stepping out from the crowd, which would have heard the woman without a doubt, he approached her, whilst still holding his shield, a perplexed look on his face.

“I be Valkrik of Ghar. We shall not have words here, but in the council village hall.”

That said, he started to walk back towards his Father’s hall, leaving behind the crowd, his father and the elf with the message. Asguat spotted Valkrik walking away, and hurried off after him. This Valkyrie looked to be trouble, or at least that was his thoughts. Valkrik walked at a brisk pace, wondering who the hell he pissed off, to be having to deal with all this….today. Had the death of the Quartermaster brought about all these creatures?

He was about to find out.

<3>

Ernil simply stared at the girl as Honrick took the letter, before turning his eyes to the Chieftain, the other man already forgotten. “My duties given by my Queen are done, my lord. If you do not require me to bear a response at the moment, I should be returning. She bid me say unto you that if you desire the meeting to be here in your village, it will be done, but that the halls of the Last Homely House are always open.” The elf bowed his head, but he itched to fly. There was no way in all high Heavens that this Viking lord would already have a response, unless he was more ignorant than Ernil believed. He looked at the female’s hand still on his arm, and cleared his throat slightly, in a way that only an Elf would know was directed at her. Habits will do as they do, and he hadn’t even the awareness to hope that Honrick didn’t think he had anything else to say.

The Valkyrie had followed Valkrik silently before she smiled faintly. It had honestly been some time since she had last had a smile grace her full sensual lips. Luna’s eyes carried the power of her bloodline and that of her heritage as well as the mournful sorrow of untold centuries of combat and watching her friends and ally’s fall. With a soft sigh she would look upon Valkrik’s back without a sound waiting for him to open the doors. Silent as stone she stood waiting for those doors of oak to open before walking in behind the viking warrior. Slowly she sat down on one of the oak tables and crossed her left leg over her right before gazing into the viking’s eyes silently. She knew it was bound to be highly unnerving as few could look openly into her icey eyes without wetting themselves. As she stared at valkrik in complete silence she would tap her left index finger against her chin while pursing her lips in thought. Even though she was an elder among Valkyries this was Luna’s first time actually visiting the human realm of Midgard.

Instead her response would have been to grip his arm harder maybe to hurt him, maybe to show her strength but she had no way to judge how strong he really was, her teeth bearing only slightly, to anyone else but probably him it might have looked like a grin, but it was a show of her sharp teeth, and at there close range he would have been able to clearly see the brief instant of her pupils turning into thin slits before rounding again. Only after she felt she had asserted her dominance in that regard, she released his arm and backed away, leaving him to the ‘wolves’ (haha…puns).

just outside the village council hall

As for Natsiya, she watched the young man, Honricks son, lead the Valkyrie to the council hall. Seeing as Honrick was busy, and she still intended to trade him the hunting wolves for the silver weapons, she felt her wild side tug her towards the strange encounter that she might be able to glimpse happening between the viking boy and the low level goddess like creature.

She followed at a distance watching them more curious then anything else, and as they entered the council hall she leaned casually outside the doors against a wall, and listened carefully hoping to catch some of the conversation with her heightened hearing. If anything else, she was hoping he might be able to show her what there was to trade on the ship sense Honrick seemed busy now.

Valkrik sat himself down on a large wooden carved stool, the walls behind him covered with various pelts of fur. He held in his right hand a bladed axe, and watched as the Valkyrie sat herself down, and then tapped her lip. Merely watching the Viking. How odd. Was it not she that called for this meeting, and had words that she wished to say to him? For right now, all she did was sit with one leg crossed over another and remained silent.

One of the council hall staff brought over a mug of ale and handed it to Valkrik, who toyed with the bone made mug. The staffer backed away, but it was clear this meeting was drawing a crowd, from those that were not bold enough to enter, but watch through the windows and at the door. Valkrik’s eyes went from each opening of the hall, and if looks could kill they would all be dead. How he hated gossip mongering braggards that loved nothing more than to spread the word of gossip carelessly before any fire in the village.

The Viking took a sip of his ale, before setting it down on the table beside him. Seconds seemed like minutes and the Viking’s patience was running thin.

“Would you do me…and everyone listening a favour and speak what it is you have to say.”

He was blunt and to the point.

<3>

The Valkyries left eyebrow rose silently while she listened to the viking warrior speak his piece before offering a predatory smile. Valkrik of Ghar Odin himself sent me to watch over you and guide you…I know of your deeds and the friends you have lost. Worry not Valkrik of Ghar….You’ll be safe in my care…” Just then the Valkyrie reached up and took her helmet from her head allowing raven colored tresses to cascade down her back before she reached back and fluffed her hair to straighten it out. “Ah…that feels so much better…” Her eyes then darted to each of the corner’s of the room and openings though as he gaze fell upon each location the crowds scattered into the winds for fear of reprisal from the Valkyrie. Slowly almost painfully so the Valkyrie began to stand before her hips started to sway to and fro while she sang a song of old. ( [www.youtube.com] ) Her voice was one few living people had ever heard for it was a song the Valkyries sang when they descended upon the dead and dying to guide them to the afterlife and the great halls of Asgard. It was clear that the Valkyrie was singing because she felt the need to and not for enjoyment. Luna’s voice was a soft almost whimsical tone that held a hint of great sadness that the Valkyries bore with them as they moved through the battlefields choosing the strongest of the slain and dying to take to the Great Halls. Then almost as soon as she had begun to sing she would stop and look over her shoulder at Valkrik before offering a half smile. Her eyes where a soft cerulean color as they locked with Valkrik’s own eyes in a gaze one would call curious and exploratory as she let her gaze wander Valkrik’s form. Oh she was definitely acting coy and playful as her wings ruffled slightly in a gesture of restlessness.

In the past few days, Valkrik had gone through what many would not in a lifetime. No sooner back from his voyage to the south lands which brought back not only slaves and weapons, but items that were to be used as trade – grain and wine. He had news of his Uncle’s passing, then of course saving his sister from the clutch’s of the Quartermaster, whose body now lay at the bottom of an unnamed river. Valkrik also came to discover a terrible secret – one kept from him since his birth. What he had hated for all his years, was what he truly was. Though holding up a facade of calm, internally he had been struggling to deal with this new found power.

Now…now he had before him one of Odin’s own. A Valkyrie no less, who had proclaimed that she had been sent by Odin himself, to watch over and guide him on his path in life. Luna also claimed to know about his loss, and his deeds. Really? Only time would tell just how much she truly knew.

Watching on with steel blue eyes, the Valkyrie removed her helm, to reveal a shock of raven colored hair that flowed down off her shoulders and to rest upon her upper back. She moved almost fluidly, and was the epitome of what a woman was to be. Full figured and ripe, but she was also an immortal. Clutching his mug of ale, Valkrik watched on silently, as she rose from her seat, and then started to dance. A ritualistic swaying of her hips, her hands becoming instruments on which to tell the tale, as the song she sung was one of old. In fact it was heart breaking to hear, and many outside the Council hall were moved to shed tears.

But how is it, when she glanced over her shoulder, offering Valkrik a half smile and yet being coy when singing such a song. It seemed a tad off. She must have found favor with his form. Again this was unusual for one that was to be a guardian, to look upon the Viking as though he was prey…prey to lust.

At the song’s end, Valkrik drank the last of his ale and set down the mug, before clapping his hands together slowly. Loudly. It echoed through the very hall. Valkrik rose from his seat and approached Luna, stopping just shy of her, before reaching out and stroking one of her wings.

“What kind of man would I be, to not heed the word of Odin. If this is true. If he did send you to protect me….I shan’t stop it.” He then bent his head to whisper in her ear. “You’re in for one hell of a ride, Valkyrie of Odin. Think you can keep up?’ With that he started for the door.

<3>

The stroke of Valkrik’s hand upon her wing caused a subtle shiver to race through her spine. Oh how sensitive her wings where to the slightest of touch’s. The viking warrior then leaned in enough to whisper into her ear briefly causing a second subtle shiver to run through her spine as his warm breath caressed he ear. As the viking warrior turned to go Luna would hiss to herself while snatching her helmet off the table and replacing it upon her head after tucking her raven tresses back under it. Slowly she strode after him with her wings ruffling slightly. “Bad Luna….No lusting…” As she followed Valkrik where ever he may go her eyes would silently rove left and right watching the townsfolk warily before she folded her wings about her self consciously. Oh how she loathed the lusting stares of the men watching her follow Valkrik like a love sick puppy. Luna would continue to follow Valkrik in complete silence while keeping her wings wrapped about her in an effort to conceal herself from the lusting glares. Luna was one of odin’s Valkyries yes but she was easily mislead when in the human world of Midgard for she had little knowledge of it. The reason being she had such little knowledge of Midgard was that she preferred to stay in the realm of Asgard and attend to her training when she was but a youngling. Perhaps that was why Odin’s trust fell upon her more often then not rather then other Valkyries of the same rank. It was also said that Luna had been rather distant and harsh but it remained unproven though Odin knew the truth behind her built up walls. Would Valkrik be the one to open her up and get her to speak? or would she turn cold and distant towards him as well? Only time would tell such a fact.

The Valkryin may well follow the Viking as he made his way through the village. He remembered the fact that on his return, news had been given to him by his father that Uncle Tebas had died during a hunt. Council law requires for certain measures to be taken so that one of noble line, can go on to meet with and sit with Odin. Looking back at Luna, he said.

“I have put this off long enough. My father was to take me to his brother’s home, but seems he is still dealing with the Elf messenger.” His voice lost near all emotion, as he took the path that lead to his Uncle’s dwelling. Outside there was already a gathering of his women; slaves for the most part. One was his long suffering wife, who was grief stricken and in a terrible mood. Seeing the approach of the Viking and the Valkryin, she was sure this was a sign, and ran out to meet Valkrik. Reaching the path she sank to her knees, holding up her hands in some way of offering, but Valkrik would have none of it.

“On your feet, Hesta. I am not here for you.” He spoke truth, for the one that would ride the boat with Tebas to Odin would be a woman that gave herself willingly to make the journey. A few elders from the council had seen Valkrik got up the path to the House of Tebas, and they too followed behind, as the slave girls all fell in line. Their heads bowed in reverence as Valkrik took on the role of managing the last rites of his deceased uncle. Tebas was buried in a shallow grave, for now just by his house, as a temporary measure until Valkrik had returned. He had been in the ground long enough.

Walking along the line of slave girls, he looked at each before coming to stop at the end of the line.

“Your Master wishes for one of you to join him in his final voyage. Whoever steps forward will be blessed by Odin himself, and treated to the joys of love from his fellows. She will lay with all the mighty warriors of the village, before the voyage and this is decreed by our Father Honrick. This is a great honor. Which of you chooses to follow the Master to Odin?’

The girls all looked at each other, before a flame haired girl stepped forward. Her name; Anaka. She adored Tebas and admired him as a warrior and the Chieftan’s brother. She lifted her head proudly, as the drums began to beat in time to that of a human heart.

“Anaka…you will begin preparations and your sisters dress you for the final night.”

The other girls all congratulated Anaka for being the chosen, while in the background, Tebas’s wife held his helmet close to her chest. She was not young, and knew what this meant. The girl was going to die, though she did not realize it.

Two men came forward, and went to dig up the body of Tebas, to prepare him for his voyage, while up the path near the water’s edge, the Shaman was already making her way to Tebas’s ship. She had in her basket the items needed to prepare his body for the boat, as well as the bed, that had already been carried down from Tebas’s house and placed aboard the vessel.

Moving up the gang plank, she reached the bed, and spread over it a fine cloth of gold. It was tucked in underneath and the Shaman spoke in a strange dialect as if letting Odin know of the coming of Tebas and Anaka. She had performed this rite many times before, and it always meant the sacrifice of one to join the dead into the afterlife.

Valkrik’s role for now was complete. That night, Anaka would go from home to home of each of the mighty warriors of the village, and lay with them. The warriors would say on completion of the ritual sex act, that they are doing this not for the love of a woman, but in respect of the dead; Tebas. Anaka would sleep with over forty men, before the night was over, while Tebas’s body would be laid upon the golden bed up on the ship, his body surrounded by gifts, flowers, and trinkets to take with him to the next.

Up along the shore line, to the boat of Valkrik, that had just returned from its voyage to the south lands, Honrick was waiting now for Natsiya to make her way back from the Village hall, to work a deal with what weapons that were brought back after the last battle. With all the fuss of travelers of late, the Vikings were busy having to entertain most, plus Valkrik had now taken over the organisation of his brother’s funeral. That would be the following night. A time when the warriors gathered at the docks, and beat their shields as Anaka would breathe her last breath and follow Tebas to Valhalla.

<3>

ElilesMuiLuminarde

She spotted him waiting besides the ship and waved at him slightly. Her hips swayed side to side as she walked, but she never thought her self very sensual, even though she did put effort in it once in a while. The jagged scars all over her body didn’t help.

“busy day today Honrick, I don’t remember trade day being this exciting last year,”she chuckled softly finally reaching him and placing her hands on her hips.-

Ernil simply stared at the girl who had bared her teeth at him. He was entranced, to be honest. He’d never been made to feel so inferior. It was almost thrilling. He knew that he was not intimidated by her physical show of supposed dominance or superiority, but by the simple fact that her race was most likely, at the base of strength, stronger than his. However, he was unphased. He had too much confidence to back off, but too little experience in the world to retaliate in any way. While he was immortal, he knew he was not invincible. He found himself unsure if he could overtake her in a physical fight, and he was not sure what action of his might trigger their exchange to reach such a point. So he simply continued to stare, his youth perhaps shown in the gesture.

-Kazia stared back, her eyes darted around them to the continued crowd, she had options, she had his attention. He reminded her distinctly of the green pup they brought with them this trading trip, and someone was very foolish to send a pup out into the world with out a little bit of a guiding hand, or a guard that knew what they were doing. Didn’t they know there were wolves about.

The crowd seemed to die away and disappear in the corner of her mind as she circled the male tilting her head slightly and allowing the black locks to spill all to one side exposing her bare neck. She made a pass at him drawing up her hand she tried to drag her index finger down his chest, judging him with her eyes like she was examining a prized bull for breeding. When she lifted her eyes to make eye contact again, it was with a searing heat, should she ever see this male again out side the hold of the vikings, she would promise to have him in her bed furs, submissive males outside there breed were hard to come by, and so much fun, and to her, he seemed to have all the trade marks of a sub, or at least one she could work with if he wasn’t all that submissive.

She glanced back at the pack males waiting for her, she made a full circle around them and walked back to the trading hall where they waited not saying a word to him or even giving him a second glance. Instead she left him behind to his own devices, would he follow, or would he stick with the crowd who seemed prepared to attended to the funeral that was being prepared.

The Vollan males would not be attending, not because they were rude, but they both decided it was best to remain by there beta Kazia until Natsiya returned. -

The night air was ripe with the scent of burning oils that gave off a fine black smoke that trailed up to the heavens. Dozens of torches carried by men and only those that were to witness the final voyage of Tebas to Valhalla. Viking warriors, that had seen to it that the rites were carried out by laying with Anaka would all be present as she was led to the boat that was moored to the wooden pontoon. Decorated by the Angel of death herself, who stood on the pier dressed in ceremonial robes to mark the occasion.

Each warrior carried with them their shields and battle axes, as it was not only part of the ceremony, but a fitting tribute to the noble warrior that was the Chief’s own brother. Honrick and his son, Valkrik were the last to arrive, wearing their furs and leather specially made for this funeral. No expense had been spared by the Chieftain as his brother was much loved and respected of all the kinsman.

All women, bar Anaka and the Angel of death were kept locked inside their homes, for this…was men’s business and if the women knew what was to happen, there would be outrage even though this was a time honored tradition.

Anaka walked between two rows of Vikings, her head held high and wearing the finest of cloth. A dress made from wool and sewn with the symbol of Tebas upon her right breast. She was gestured to stand before a wooden structure that looked much like the frame of a door way. At this point the girl’s eyes became large as they darted between the men that surrounded her, for two came and tied her hands and her feet to the frame itself so she could no longer move freely. The Angel of death crept up to her, smiling as she offered the girl a drink from a chalice, that actually contained a special herbal brew. This was done to help dull the girl’s senses as she joined her Master for the final act of the funeral. Anaka sipped all that the cup had within it, small trickles running down her chin, which she could not wipe away. The two Vikings came back and raised the framed girl up and down three times as all sung out the name of her Master; Tebas.

Now the frame was carried on board the ship and placed directly over the body of Tebas, who lay on a golden covered bed, surrounded by herbs, flagons of wine along with a decapitated hen and cock. As the torches seemed to becoming closer, the girl started to cry out as the realization hit her that she was to be burnt alive. But this was not the case. The Vikings all began to bang their battle axes to their shields in a drum beat like rhythm that would drown out her cries and screams, which might deter other girls from seeking death with their masters in the future.

The Angel of death knotted a rope around the terrified girl’s neck, handing a length to each of the Vikings that had been with the girl every step of the way. The beating of shields got louder, as the Angel of death raised on high a broad dagger, the blade of which glistened in the light of the torches. As she screamed out the name of Tebas, the two vikings pulled on the rope, as the Angel of Death plunged the dagger into the chest of the stricken girl. Blood spewed up and out of the puncture wound, as the girl’s eyes were left wide open in terror. Her neck almost severed by the rope, which had pierced her skin and caused almost instant death. Her blood ran down her body and onto that of the Master, whose eyes had long since closed.

The girl now dead, was a fitting sacrifice to join with Tebas in his voyage to Valhalla.

The Angel of Death left the boat, along with the two vikings, who had done what was expected of them without fault. Many torches were thrown onto the vessel which immediately caught light as it was pushed from it berth, to float down the bay and to the outlet of the sea.

Honrick and Valkrik watched with little emotion. This was part of life, and the honored way to go into death.

<3>

Announcing they were to visit a neighboring kingdom, Ilyra nodded her acceptance. “As you wish, Master.” she nodded. Jamai bowed to them both before excusing himself from their tent. She watched him go with a sigh before getting to her feet. She moved to a bench at the center of their tent and sat down upon it with a pleasurable moan. It had been hard sitting upon the ground for so long.

As Jamai left the tent, Tagor’s attention turned back on IIyra who had gone from sitting on the fur covered ground to moving to a seat or bench in their tent. Tagor had a hard ride back, and his scalp was feeling itchy from not having washed in a few days. He started to untie the various leather binds, that held his long magnificent black mane in place. As it came undone, the sheer amount of hair he had was shocking to say the least. He stepped out of the tent, and went to where they stored large water pots, and grabbed one, that he tipped and upended just above his head, dousing his hair till it was soaked through. He had a special bar of soap that he kept on a log outside his tent and started to wash and massage his hair thoroughly, much to the amusement of some of the village children. To see the large man bathing in the open was a treat, even some of the slave girls gaped and were in awe as he stood in his wet leather short pants and his hair all lathered with the soap. Another jug of water and it splashed down over himself, rinsing his hair through till it shone the perfect jet black. The dripping Njada leader then went back inside his tent, and then reached for the combs and new binds, presenting them to IIyra.

“Weave Tagor’s hair.” He asked in a gruff voice, planting himself down in front of her, so she could tend to braiding his hair as she sat on the small stool.

<3>

An assassin dressed as a guard, and from the valley of Wood elfs. So bold they would try and send in one to kill Magarsa. Gripping the large necklet that hung around his full neck, he strode over to where Ivan held the quivering guard on the floor, a blade to his throat.

“What shall we do with him?” Asked one fo the guards. A good question. Staring at the assassin, Magarsa said simply. “The lands of Tsumal are not as forgiving as I. This man, this elf, shall be taken out to the sand hills with his naked body to be tied to the ground, and have the sweetest honey in all the capital poured over his face and genitals.” He leaned forward, so his stinking breath would not escape the fallen guard. “There..in the blaze of the sun, you will discover the true horror of being eaten alive. Take him away.” Magarsa said with a flick of his wrist. Two other guards came to drag the screaming traitor out of the building, as Magarsa turned to the noble one that had just saved his life. “And you…you I have not seen before. Tell me, what name was given to you by your birth mother?”

Magarsa started back for his grand chair, as he waited to be answered. The commotion had not gone unnoticed by Nerboti, who watched from behind a veiled curtain near the balcony. Who was this man that just saved her father? She had not seen him before, and yet he just did a very valiant deed. Such heroics were rare, especially against a man like her father. Many men would not even have to be paid to get within striking distance to do him in. His atrocities were well known. He did not get to where he was in Tsumal society for being anything but a tyrant.

Nerboti’s dark eyes followed Ivan’s movements. She had to admit, he was a fine specimen of manhood, in every sense of the word.

<3>

Having his hair braided by IIyra was a very pleasurable and relaxing experience. Though he did not speak, she hummed a tune as she weaved and worked his hair, going as far as adding an owl feather to the plaits. Tagor sat regally, even though he was on the ground, and she was seated higher than him. Unusual for a Njada man to allow, but he was so comfortable in her presence he allowed for such things. To feel the warmth of her breath of the back of his neck, did send a shiver through him. She had that affect; the slightest touch of her delicate fingers, the way she picked up his hair as though it was spun gold. The soap he had used contained oils that were rich in its scent, and a masculine quality to it. A musk if you will.

IIyra pressed her hand to his shoulder, to alert him that she had completed the task. Tagor reached round and pulled his long braided plait around so he may see her work for himself. It was bound so well, that there was little chance of it coming undone. Something that was simply seen as a weakness if it did. Tagor flicked his plait back then reached for her hand, pulling her around so that she would come to be in his lap as he sat cross legged.

“Mate …IIyra, did good.” Again, a man of few words. His smile however, that spoke volumes. It was like his eyes danced whilst set in the dark hollows that rimmed his eyes. It was rare to see him show such joy, but he had much to be thankful for. He truly believed the Gods had favoured him on finding IIyra at the slave markets, and the fact she fell so easily to carry a child showed she had the strength to be a good Njada woman.

If this was paradise on earth, he had found it.

<3>

“…Ilyra, did good.” he announced, shocking her that he had stated her name without any hesitation. His eyes were dancing and there was one of those private, just-for-her smiles on his face, that she couldn’t help but return.

She placed the palms of her hands against his neck. “You’re welcome, My Lord.” she murmured in her melodic voice, brushing her hands across his shoulders in a loving gesture as she did so.

She wondered what else she could do to please him, and asked him such. “Is there anything more you wish of me, My Lord? Speak the words and I shall heed them.”

IIyra’s touch – so gentle. This was a very private and gentle moment between them. They had a bond that transcended just that of a physical relationship. Heart, soul and mind were often connected, and this moment IIyra was asking if there was anything more that he wished of her.

For the first time, Tagor did not order or speak a command. He was actually curious about her. Her upbringing, her life – her story. He knew her only from when he found her in the slave markets, but by the mark upon her of the winter snowflake, it was obvious she had a past; a history that he wanted to know.

“Tagor…wants IIyra to teach….to speak of..” At this point he placed his hand on her chest.“IIyra.”

His dark eyes implored her. This was not a simple request. She was to be mother to his child, and Tagor wanted to know her intimately. How she came to be his woman.

Tagor waited for her answer.

<3>

“Tagor…wants IIyra to teach….to speak of…IIyra.” he stated, pressing a hand to her chest.

“You wish to know of me?” she asked, not sure she heard correctly. He would simply nod his head. “Oh…well…I was born in the Winterlands, far across the seas. My father is, or was, the leader of our clans – fair and just, much like yourself. We were a peaceful people. Never knowing battle or wars like you have. Oh there was fighting, to be sure, but mostly with beasts encroaching upon our lands and trying to steal our younglings for their food. It is how we got our furs for the winters.” she began to explain. “My days were spent with my mother and sister, learning traditions and history, chores and such. My free time was spent exploring the lands surrounding our village, my companion, an ice wolf by my side for protection. It was a life I took advantage of. And then the outsiders came…” She looked down in sadness, as that was the day her life changed forever. Her fingers traced idle patterns across his chest as she recalled that day.

“They came seeking trade with my father, him not knowing who they were and seeing the profit to be made. But the men who came, coveted our females, sought to trade with father for them. He told them no and sent them away. They came back, like thieves and attacked us, killing those of our men who stood against them and taking the women…including me and my sister. They…” Here she paused to swallow in remembered pain, “…killed my mother right in front of me. My father was injured. I do not know if he lives still. My sister and I were seperated and sold into the life of slavery. It has been my life since.” She finished.

Tagor wanted to know about the woman that he had made his mate. Most Njada were only interested in their own culture and society, certainly not the heritage of a slave. But Tagor did not view her as such. She was so much more, and now as she started to recant the details of her life, the fact she was born in the Winterlands far across the sea, that the mystery to her becoming a slave was starting to be solved. Her younger days were as expected, being brought up by her mother to learn craft, history and how to keep the home. Her father was a leader and while IIyra described him as being much like Tagor himself, this gave him reason to smile. But it was when she spoke of the outsiders, that Tagor’s face darkened. Almost as though he could picture the scene she described in her mind. He was not surprised with how the outsiders acted. It was why the Njada were defensive against the unknown, for the same reasons. Trust had to be earnt, well before trade may commence. When IIyra traced her finger along Tagor’s chest, he reached for her cheek, and caressed it as she continued to tell the tale.

Tagor’s brow knitted on hearing how the attacked and killed her mother before her. How her father was injured, and sister taken into slavery – sold to an unknown. That was her life..up to the moment that she had been purchased by Tagor. The day her life changed forever.

“Tagor…loves IIyra. Never see you hurt again.” Words so simple, yet powerful. He pledged his own life to protect her, and inwardly he made a promise. He would one day seek out and find her father, even if it meant crossing the seas, and reunite her one day with her family. But for now, she would not be alone. “Tagor…baby. Family.” The Njada leader said with a firm nod. You could see the depth of feeling in his eyes. She and their unborn son, meant the world to him, and now he knew of her past, he wished her future to be bright.

<3>

“And Ilyra loves Tagor.” she whispered, before pressing her lips to his in a gentle kiss. He had removed her from a life spent in slavery and had blessed her with a new home, a child, and a love she never thought possible.

How could anything go wrong after this?

Unknown to them, someone was watching them from the edges of the tent flaps, her eyes bright with anger at the betrayal she felt. One son was dead at the hands of the one who lived and she cursed the Fates for giving her such an evil (in her mind) child.

Little did Thiras know that she was being watched. A young warrior, whose name was Rangor who had high aspirations of becoming a leader in his own right knew of the altercation between the matriarch and the leader; Tagor. Seeing her now, watching through a gap in the tent flap of the Leader had him smirk to himself, as he strolled across to where she was crouched. He was like a shadow almost, and he bent down and whispered;

“If Tagor catch you….he would drag you for fifty miles.” His voice filled with menace as Thiras was startled at being caught. “Gah…young fool. Get away from me.” Clearly she was not having a good day, not that Rangor cared. He wiggled his finger suggestively and she huffed as she rose up and followed him to a place between two tents. The warrior was not the most handsome of Njada. An injury that he sustained in one battle, had left him with a large scar across his right cheek, and it was disfiguring to say the least. But he was well known with his talent for pleasing women, and not just slaves. Many a wife had secretly laid with the young buck, when the other warriors were away. He used his handicap to his advantage, and also was sharp of mind and knew how to manipulate.

“So..you have denounced your claim as mother to Tagor?” Rangor asked, knowing the answer full well. “And yet…you watch them on the furs?” Your current lover not giving you enough of a thrill?’ He bore a wicked grin, as Thrias rounded on him. “You…ask too many questions.” She practically spat, as he simply cocked his head, and then reached out to caress her left breast in a shocking move that would have her gasp. “Still ripe…after two sons? My, how I would love to taste your milk, Thiras, I bet it is so rich…like you.” Thiras slapped his hand away, as he was daring to touch a high bred woman such as herself, but she could not deny that it didn’t excite her.

“What do you want?” Thiras asked, knowing he was up to no good. Instead of answering her, he took her hand and led her into his own tent, where there was more privacy. Closing the flap, he then rounded on her. “I want…what every man dreams. To be the leader of the Njada.” At this, Thiras laughed. What an absurd notion. “Tagor would never renounce his leadership. He holds it with an iron grip, like he does that woman.” Thiras had a point, but then Rangor came in close to her and rolled out the charm.

“Then we need to find a way to GET him to let go.” Thiras started to back up as Rangor gripped her arm and threw her down on the furs. She scrambled as he then dropped down on his knees and pushed her back onto the ground. The look on his face was one of pure hatred and lust. “Your going to help me…but first, I am going to teach you a lesson in submission. Much easier to control a woman, who knows her place.”

From the outside of the tent, you could hear the pained cries of Thiras…but those passing thought it was just a reluctant slave, not the mother of the Njada leader. Rangor was savage…brutal as he raped her repeatedly, till she would no longer refuse him…and his dreams of the leadership.

<3>

“It was my honor to help you my lord”-I van said again not looking up. One of the other guards came back and too a knee-“He is a sell sword we picked up on the way here when one of the other guards was killed in an accident my lord, we have yet to pay him”

-Ivan still had his head bowed not saying a word, and fighting every urge to kill the man where he stood, every word out of Magarsas mouth made his blood boil with anger, he also knew he had to find a way to the elf from the sentence that was given to him-

CharlotteCarrendar

Carrying the whip; an artifact passed down from father to son to control the slaves, Magarsa observed his savior. A man by the name of Chavek. A sell sword. The Slave Master was impressed not only by his speed in taking care of the Elf assassin, but also the fact he stood before the Master unwavering. Many showed fear when they were in the presence of the great one. Magarsa had a history of being violent and unpredictable, even to his most loyal guards.

He approached Chavek, getting a better look at the man, while one of the other guards went about to tell the tale of how he came to be in the employ of the Slave Master. Magarsa held a stiff upper lip as he swatted his own hand with the whip, and took in all that was said. Chavek had his head bowed, as the guard explained that they had yet to pay the man for his service. Already he had performed above and beyond expectation, and he decided that Chavek would be rewarded.

“Crytek…give this man a bag of silver, and show him to the feasting room. Assign him a pleasure slave and a room for the night.”

The Slave Master was being more than generous, in the eyes of the other guards, as he turned to leave the Slave driver to take the remaining chained slaves from the room. Crytek approached Chavek and said. “This way. You have been blessed by the Gods. Magarsa is not normally one to grant such a reward.”

All the while, the Slave Master’s daughter watched, as the new guard was led away to enjoy a sumptuous meal.

<3>

“Crytek…give this man a bag of silver, and show him to the feasting room. Assign him a pleasure slave and a room for the night.” 

-He took another sigh as he said this and watched as he walked away. He followed Crytek saying a small prayer to the closest great cat to save the young elf from his fate. After he looked to his left and meet the slaves daughters eyes. He locked eyes with her until they turned a corner. He again sighed but this time it was something diffrant, why did she have this effect on him?-

Nerboti was bold if anything. She was used to getting her way with most of her wishes, except for the chance to have a new slave to toy with from the latest batch. After Ivan had been thusly rewarded by her father for his faithful service, Nerboti noticed that he kept staring at her. Was that really so unusual? She was dressed in the finest of silk and jewels that barely covered her, and her skin so rich and painted, as well as scented with exotic oils.

The girl sashayed over to where Ivan stood, and she then walked around him as though a jungle cat. Seizing him up. She knew her station was higher than the likes of a sell sword, and he would be foolish to try anything. His scent was unusual, as well as his physical build. He couldn’t be human, but was he immortal? That was the question.

“Is there something about me you wish to see more of?’ Nerboti purred, placing her finger on the right side of his chest and dragging it along slowly. “I’m no pleasure slave, I assure you. But….I’ve been known to leave many a man wanting more.” Nerboti drew her hand back and then acted demurely.

“What do they call you…Sell sword?”

<3>

IIyra was blessed with child, and now Tagor wanted to make sure that she was treated as though a goddess through and through. He gently lifted her off his lap, and then pointed to the furs.

“IIyra needs rest.” It was not so much a request, but an order that she lay down and keep her feet up so as not to get swollen ankles. The leader then rose to standing, and left the tent, going to find two slaves that would care for his wife this night. He decided then and there, that he would no longer lay with his mate until three moons after she had given birth and then it would be done carefully if at all. This may well mean he might find himself getting…well, frustrated but it was the price to pay for protecting the future unborn leader of the Njada.

Reaching the slave’s main tent, he made his order.

“Mate of Tagor needs to be massaged and cleaned. Riehas and Clerah, you both go to tent and care for IIyra of Njada.”

The two women got up immediately from their crafts, and bowed before hurrying past him and going back to his tent. That done, Tagor went to the council tent to spend time with the menfolk and enjoy some much needed wine.

<3>

The sell sword’s name was Chavek, and while he was admiring Nerboti, calling her of all things “art work” he then expressed that he had no desire to TOUCH the artwork. ~WHAT?~ What man could possibly resist Nerboti? Had he had his reproductive organs removed at birth? The look on Nerboti’s face was a mix of confusion and shock. She looked down at her self, and wondered if there was something wrong with her. No..perky ripe mounds, child bearing hips, rounded tight buttocks. She thought she was the epitome of what a woman from Tsumal should be.

Now..there are many coloured and cursed words used by the Tsumal, and that day Nerboti invented a few new ones as the sell sword walked away from her. Seething, she marched over to one of her father’s guards and gripped his arm.

“MY ROOM..NOW!” Nerboti dragged the unwitting guard off to her room for some very angry sex.

<3>

-Ivan nodded and stepped into his room. It was gorgeous, a king size bed red velvet carpets and curtains. trow rugs and pillows all over the place to relax in, even a nice sized bowl of fruit. Ivan sighed again and turned and lock the door. He went walked to the farthest corner of the room and dropped his guise then pulled the mirror out. The man appeared again-”What is your condition lieutenant? he asked.

“Infiltrated the guard, saved the head slaver from an assassin, will soon be in the inner circle and have the info needed”
-His CO nodded-“Be careful, if you have to bail do so quickly and quietly”-Ivan nodded and put the mirror up and resumed his guise, just as there was a knock on the door. Ivan walked over to the door and opened it, there stood a small women with a measuring tape and a pad-“Lord Marsala has requested you be fitted properly for tonight dinner”-she said meekly. Ivan nodded and after a few about thirty minutes she left. Ivan sighed again and watched her leave then turned around to head back into his room-

She frowned, wondering what had just happened. He hadn’t even looked at her before he left. Had she displeased him in some way?

The Elven woman was further confused when two slaves entered her tent to tell her they were there to care for her for the rest of the evening.

“Where is Tagor?” Ilyra asked with some trepidation.

“He is with the other men, my Lady.” the one known as Clerah stated. The frown never left Ilyra’s face as she moved to do as she was bid.

———-

And so set the tone for the next seven days. Not once did Tagor lay with her and it was a frustration to Ilyra to be so close and yet he felt far removed from her.

It was during this time that Sharma returned to her side and Ilyra was pleased to see her friend up and about once more. She had missed their talks. Ilyra had requested they go for a bath now that the waters had been removed of the taint of the dead and corrupt.

The two women gathered their things and headed off together. She really needed some advice.

They chatted about nothing of consequence for some time before she brought up the subject she really wanted to talk about.

“Sharma?”

“Hmmm?”

“How does one go about enticing a man?” Ilyra asked hesitantly, a blush fusing her cheeks. Sharma looked at her, eyes wide with surprise.

“What brought this on?”

“Tagor has not lain with me in nearly 7 days. He holds me when we sleep or he sleeps on the other side of our tent. He will not touch me. Some days he doesn’t even look at me. I don’t know what to think.”

-Crytek took him to the table and sat him right next to Marsala-“Lord Marsala, sir Chavek is here”-Ivan sits down and bows his head-“Lord Marsala, it is an honor to see you again”-He saw Nerboti and looked away, he wanted her and he knew she wanted him, but one he had a job to do, and two he wanted to play hard get-

The Dining Hall

The Slave Master’s face was flush from having had many wines before the banquet had begun, and slurred his words as he fell back in his fur covered chair. Ripping the hand of some un co-operative pleasure slave to sit on his lap as he slobbered over a turkey leg, he gave the newly arrived Chavek the once over.

“Eat…boy!” Marsala boomed, as he licked the slave’s face and left a large drool mark on her cheek. His breath must have been disgusting, and with his added bulk and sweat, it is the last place any woman would want to be. But under the threat of death, the pleasure slave smiled weakly. If only he knew what she was thinking.

All around, the laughter and noise was deafening, as Chavek would probably be sickened and horrified by the antics of these Slave owners and high nobles. They acted far worse than any common folk that was for sure. Drunken slobs. The only one that seemed to have any decorum was in fact Nerboti, who had barely touched the food or drink. She kept her back rigid and any soldier or guard that came near her, even in a drunken stupor were sent packing by her wicked stare.

Nerboti saw the stolen glance, and how he turned his head away from her. That’s right, already rejected her once. She clawed at her chair, unseen by those she sat beside. Little did Chavek realize, but she was as much a slave to this house as the others – only she wasn’t sold off for favors….yet.

<3>

The Dining Hall

The Slave Master had finally eaten his full, if one could believe that, and pushed the pleasure slave from his lap with such a heavy hand that she fell to the floor. Knowing better than to stay in a heap there, she crawled away as the rotund slave Master rose to his feet.

“Now all of you have enjoyed my foods and wines, I bring to your attention the Games.”

This brought a rousing cheer from those seated at the long tables. The Games were a highlight of the Summer season, and one of the things that had brought the Slave Master much wealth. With the deafening noise of rabble rousing, the Slave Master waved his hands to bring the gathered to silence.

“Many other Slavers have brought their best and finest to fight, and we shall show them that this city of Tsumal has many a hardened Gladiator to fight theirs. I urge you all to attend…and be sure to bring those hefty purses. The betting starts at the hour before the midday sun reaches it’s peek.”

So that was it. The Slave Master’s main source of income was the Games – a fierce show of Gladiators and slaves fighting to the death. Those that had traveled far to attend had their fighters locked in the under ground pits of the stadium. If it was one thing Nerboti enjoyed it was watching the wholesome slaughter of man and beast at these events. She got a grand ringside seat and was able to wear her best dresses as she was presented as though royalty.

As Chavek was being fed cherries by the elven pleasure slave, Lord Marsala clapped eyes on the sell sword, and pointed his chubby digit at him. “Say you will be there at the Games. I reserve you a place at the box…unless you wish to fight one of the prize warriors….hmm?” He asked with an arched eyebrow.

<3>

The slaves shouted, some whimpered, many were men if not all were men, all varying ages all of different races and sizes, and many were picked because they would at least survive long enough to make it interesting. Some where even now being dressed in crude armor and showed how to use a sword with basic skill.

In the last cell far on the end, a young male sat huddled in the corner. Four others shared his cell, one was a older man, sold by his master into this battle arena as he reached the prime of his use, his master was planning on betting him to lose. The other was a female, one of the very rare few down here, she was of amazonian quality with reptilian features, she wasn’t a desirable pleasure slave, and her hulking size made her useless as a servant. This was her place now, and she probably stood the best chance of becoming a gladiator one day. The other was a man in his prime, but, he had no skill in fighting, he had already resignation him self to be fodder, or a shield, to give others a chance long enough to live, just a little bit more.

Then there was the two young boys, a sandy blonde beauty, elf by all appearances, how he had ended up here was a mystery he was usually what they wanted in the houses, tending to the lords lady, or the lord as a page. He was huddled protectively beside the other young boy, they both looked as about the age of 15 or 16 years old. The boy had dark black hair, he also had pointed ears like the elf boy, but the edges of the ears were covered in a fine dusting of fur. His eyes as he glanced around in fear were a strange aqua color, though they appeared as normal as everyone else eyes, the iris rippled around the narrowed feline pupils.

He had a long ebony cat tail that curled under his legs that he tucked in tightly against his chest in hopes of protecting himself as much as possible. The elf boy had his arms wrapped around his head rubbing his scalp gently in calming circles, the elf boy was determined that the two of them would survive. Even though they were both slaves, it was a secret between the two, that the cat’s real master, was the elf boy and always would be.

“don’t worry Emser, we’ll get through this…don’t we always,”the elf boy said glaring at the guards that peaked into the cell to check on them, some were expecting the old man to kill over before the games even started.

“Tyom,” Emser the cat-boy whispered softly, “this is different Tyom….they aren’t going to let us live, Tyom, I won’t be able to save us,” he said his voice braking into a sob.

The man across from them snorted, “you two act like fucking pansy…be a man….take out as many as you can while your still alive,” he said sounding probably harsher then he had meant it to be, it was his attempt that he was trying to comfort them.

The woman just smiled, she had her own plans and that included killing the slaves as much as the gladiators, “why bother, you’ll be dead the moment you exit the gates,” she said.

Tyom hissed mimicing Emser if he had any reaction, “you don’t know us, you don’t know what Emser can really do….they were stupid taking us,” he retorted.

There was a roar outside, the five in there cell glanced upward towards the ceilings, and knew that the games would soon begin, each participant had there own resolve, there own plans to survive, and many, were hoping this would be the final days of there slavery, in more ways then one.-

The Njada leader was spending time away from his pregnant mate. Not because it was what he wanted to do, far from it. It was due to the fact that he believed that while she was in this state of pregnancy, that to force himself upon her may do unknown damage to the unborn future son of Tagor. The Njada were a very proud and sexually active group of men, and to not be able to lay with IIyra…was hurting him more than she could have ever imagined. To stop himself from being put into a situation where he found it hard to hold back his primal urges, he spent more time with the men folk, and less time with IIyra. He loved her probably more than ever, but he was being typical of a Njada male.

But one man noticed this. Rangor. The young warrior who had raped Tagor’s mother, in a bid to get her favour (oddly) and help him secure a place as the leader of the Njada. He watched as Tagor left the tent again, after not having slept with his woman, and he eaves dropped on the conversation between Sharma and IIyra. So…she wanted to know how to make a man bend to her will, did she? This had him smirk deviously, as he waited a moment, and then approached the tent entrance, before asking permission to enter.

“Son of Murtga, wishes to pay homage to mate of Tagor.”

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As the two women were returning from their bath, Sharma was explaining to Ilyra on how to get Tagor to place his attentions back on his mate when their conversation was interrupted.

“Son of Murtga, wishes to pay homage to mate of Tagor.” came a deep voice from outside the tent. Ilyra looked at Sharma in confusion.

“Who is he?”

“He is one of Njada’s fiercest warriors besides Tagor himself.” Sharma stated out loud. But she leaned in close so that she would not be overheard. “Be wary of him, my lady. There have been whispers that he covets other Njada mates.”

Ilyra nodded, but decided to reserve judgement for herself.

“You may enter.” Ilyra stated in a kind voice.

Rangor smiles to himself and then wipes that away as he enters the tent flap, seeing the slave Sharma there along with the very beautiful IIyra. She is up close the beauty that many a man has whispered behind Tagor’s back. Taking a few steps in, he goes down to kneel on one knee and bows his head, as she is viewed as a high woman of the Njada.

“My name is Rangor, Ilyra of Njada. I come to pay honor to you and your unborn son.”

He did not rise from his position until she had given word. This was all part of his plan. Get in close to IIyra and start to plant seeds of doubt into her mind about Tagor and his intentions. The part that he was tickled about, was how Tagor was behaving with his woman – denying sexual acts due to her pregnant state. That would probably have the mate of Tagor yearning, and so ripe to pluck. Rangor watched and observed women closely, you could say it was a strong held fascination with how they ticked. To understand your prey, was how one went to conquer them. He had such terrible designs on what he wanted to do, but for now, he would play the part of the dutiful warrior and Njada male.

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The tent flap spread open and a man stepped inside. From what she could see of him, his build was slightly smaller then Tagor’s. He was dark-complected and his hair was loose upon his head. His body was riddled with scars of battle, a testament to his status as a warrior of the Njada people.

He stopped a few feet from her and knelt down upon a knee before her, head bowed in respect.

“My name is Rangor, Ilyra of Njada.” His voice was very deep, but there was a hardness to it, unlike Tagor’s. “I come to pay honor to you and your unborn son.” He finished his introduction and waited.

“Tis a pleasure to meet one of Njada’s finest warriors, Rangor of Murtga. Please rise.” Ilyra smiled, giving nothing away. Her senses were screaming at her not to trust this man. She had learned over the years to trust those senses as it alerted her to when her masters were displeased. “What may the mate of Tagor and her servant do for you this day?”

Rangor rose up to standing as he was given the permission to do so. The mate of Tagor smiled warmly, but when Ragnor’s eyes flickered to that of Sharma, he got the feeling that the slave was not showing due respect to the warrior. He would deal with her later, but for now he concentrated on his target – IIyra. Keeping his arms to his side, hands open to show he was not holding anything that can be deemed a threat, he paid heed to her question in regards to how she might be able to do for him that day.

The warrior spoke in a monotone and addressed her with respect.

“One of my mare’s gave birth to a fine foal, that I wish for you to see. It would honor me to present this foal to you and your unborn son, to be trained to be the future ride of your child.”

He was offering a gift, which was not totally unheard of when it came to their horses. When good breeding takes place and a foal of worth is born from good lineage, they are reserved for the higher members of the Njada. Nothing was more beautiful than to see a young foal frolic with it’s mother.

“Would IIyra of Njada care to see this creature?” He asked, hoping she would say yes.

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If there was one thing Ilyra was fond of, it was horses. And Njada horses were simply beautiful creatures, her own included.

“This is acceptable to me, Rangor. I would be honored to see your foal. I’m sure it would make a fine horse for my child. Thank you for your offer.” Ilyra nodded, getting to her feet. Sharma joined her, determined not to let the two of them be alone at any time. She had not been able to protect her mistress and friend once before. She was not going to let it happen again and the way Rangor was looking at her set her teeth on edge.

Rangor stepped back to allow IIyra and Sharma to leave the tent first, before he pivoted on his right foot to follow them. On reaching the outside of the tent, he gestured toward the chorale, which was to the right of the settlement. In a special paddock that had been fenced off by Rangor for his own horses and breeders, you could see that he was speaking the truth. A beautiful mare was feeding on the lush grasses, while a young foal, who was barely a day old, was jumping and skittering around it’s mother playfully, every so often stopping for a feed, then off again till settling in a place in the grass.

It truly was an adorable foal, that would melt the heart of any horse lover. The mare was still of a size from the birth, and the father was one of the leading breed stallions. Rangor leaned on the fence rung and waited to hear IIyra’s reaction to the foal and it’s mother.

“My gift.” Rangor said simply.

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“He is a beautiful animal, Rangor. You should be proud.” Ilyra nodded, gracing the warrior with a small smile. “Does he have a name? For a horse of Njada should carry a strong name.”

“Yes, it should.” Sharma stated from her place at Ilyra’s side.

The foal was barely a day old, and this is where Rangor became devious. He simply turned his head to her, when IIyra asked if the foal had a name, and that if it were to have one, that it should be a strong name. Rangor’s expression softened, and then uttered.

“I thought it would be nice for you to name it, since it is to carry your Son.”

Now, what would she say to that?

“You have seen the horse’s playfulness, it’s will for life. Perhaps you can think of something…strong.”

Rangor was appealing to her sense of goodness and fun. This was more or less letting her have say over the horse from this moment on. Rangor would see to it, that the foal was fed and trained appropriately till such time her son could ride.

<3>

“Sargtlin” she stated. She turned her gray eyes on Rangor. “In the language of my people, it means ‘Little Warrior’. He looks like he’ll make a fine war horse.” Ilyra nodded, looking back at the foal, who was now nursing at his mother’s teat.

“Then that it is what the foal shall be. Sargtlin.” Rangor said firmly, as he went back to watching the foal, along with IIyra. But as they were watching, little did they realize that Tagor was coming up behind them. Seeing her out with another warrior, even with the slave Sharma in attendance, did nothing to settle Tagor’s jealousy.

“Rangor…what is this?”

Clearly, Tagor had not been told of the gift of the foal, and his dark eyes narrowed as he folded his arms. Perfect~ Rangor thought as he turned and made a gesture with his arm to his chest to show respect.

“My mare foaled and I have given it to your mate. A gift to honor your son.” Rangor said, knowing Sharma and IIyra would be listening. Tagor didn’t like the idea of gifts being given without word to him, or even being asked. For Tagor was going to do the same thing, only his mare had not yet foaled.

Rangor went on to say. “Mate of Tagor has even chosen the name. Sargtlin. It means in her language, “Little Warrior”.” Oh Rangor was a wiley bastard. Once the name was given, there could be no giving it back. The seeds planted, Rangor dismissed himself, walking off with a dark chuckle knowing that this was not going to go down well….at all.

Tagor looked to IIyra and said. “You named it? Why?”

Yep, he was upset.

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Rangor agreed to the name of the foal and they stood to watch him for a moment more before there was another interruption to Ilyra’s day – a welcome one, depending on how you looked at it.

“Rangor…what is this?” Tagor’s voice spoke behind them. Ilyra turned, a smile on her face, that was until she saw the expression on his. He did not look happy.

“My mare foaled and I have given it to your mate. A gift to honor your son. Mate of Tagor has even chosen the name. Sargtlin. It means in her language, “Little Warrior”.” Rangor explained. Rangor removed himself after a few moments of silence, yet Tagor only had eyes for Ilyra.

She was a bit uncomfortable under his regard and wondered why that was. His arms were crossed and he looked very imposing and unapproachable.

“You named it? Why? he asked. She frowned slightly.

“I was asked to. He presented the foal as a gift for our son. Was I to say no to such a gift? That would have been rude.” she stated. Seeing they were beginning to have an audience, Ilyra turned away from him and walked back to their tent. If he wanted to have an argument with her about a horse, they would do so privately.

Tagor and Ilyra’s Tent

Sharma followed along with her mistress into the tent where Ilyra waited for Tagor to appear. She was angry and agitated.

“Sharma, I wish to speak to my mate alone.”

“I will await you outside, My Lady.” Sharma bowed, moving to stand outside the tent so the two could speak alone.

Ilyra looked at Tagor, a frown marring her delicate features. It looked so out of place on her, it was quite striking.

But now that she had her freedom, she was going to exercise her right to speak her mind. He had treated her shabbily in the last week and she was going to find out why. His reasonings for the horse be damned.

Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 03/14/2014 10:59PM by LadyBelz.

His mouth opened and closed several times and garbled words tried to find purchase in the air between them, but between his anger and frustration he couldn’t seem to do so. He raked a hand back over his head before making a decision that would leave her stunned.

He dropped his pants, revealing a massive erection and a bewildered look upon his face.

“Tagor…too big…for…IIyra and son…” He stammered, waving a hand at himself.

The look on his face was so comical, Ilyra had to turn away, slapping a hand over her mouth to keep from giggling out loud.

Once she got herself under control, she turned to face him.

“Husband…mate…do you not recall how I became ripe with your child? I do not think your size was an issue at the time.” she tried to remind him. “And not once did I complain about your…considerable…attributes.” She let her gaze roam downward without any shame.

“Am I not mate of proud Njada Warrior? Am I not mate of fierce Njada Chieftan? Am I not strong Njada woman?” she demanded, striking her chest with a fist as she gave him a hard stare. “Am I your slave or am I your mate? You need to choose, for no longer shall I be denied your touch. Or do you wish others to taste what you so covet?”

She spoke true, having witnessed many men of the Njada slaking their lusts upon other women of the tribe, whether they were mated or not. She would never do such a thing to Tagor, for she loved him with her whole heart and soul, but neither would she allow him to shove her to the side, thinking he needed to protect her from himself.

“It pains my heart you would place so little faith in me…in us…” she frowned, angry all over again. “Tis like you are shamed of me, our child and our bond.”

She was speaking from her heart, hoping to get her point across. Tagor was a proud man…but he had gotten himself a proud and fierce woman for his mate. She had seen and done things in her life that would scare the most fierce of warriors and had come out stronger for it.

A massive…attribute…was nothing to her. And she was sure it would not harm the babe she carried.

She had seen similar actions taking place when her mother was large and swollen with her sister. If her cries of passionate joy were to be believed, her father lavished her mother with all the love she could stand…and then some.

Sleep had evaded her in the five minutes she’d attempted it, but it had felt like hours. She groaned loudly, loud enough to reveal that it wasn’t necessarily genuine. Vern’s eyes snapped to her clock – the five minutes had passed into the time that there wasn’t a single staff member within hearing distance of the dorms. The perfection in the timing of her restlessness would never cease to amaze the young Incarceron. She slipped out of her bed, her nightgown falling in pools about her feet. She glided toward her door, opening it just a crack.

The whistle that came from her pursed lips was quite an anomaly. It was so high in pitch that only Moroi could hear, but lovely in tone, while still being annoying enough to wake the day walkers. As it were, the breeze that it blew on was laced with her magic, causing it to be quite cold – and seek out whomever she chose. For this particular eve (or morn, depending on the schedule your kind follows), she simply chose “Troublemakers”. Any Moroi that were as restless as her would hear this calling, whether she cared for their company or not. This… was going to be an interesting night. (Or day. This is going to get confusing for you diurnals.)

“Shall I arrange transportation, M’lord?”

“That won’t be necessary. I have already made the necessary arrangements. You and I shall be on the train tomorrow night bound for New Hampshire. Rheksas will be bringing out coffins in a special truck. I have taken the liberty of purchasing our living arrangements near where Victor used to live. Barring any sort of problems, we will arrive well before sunrise.” he stated, getting to his feet once more.

He returned to her side, taking her hands in his and kissing her knuckles. This was Vlad, quick to anger but also quick to forgive. “Your safety means the most to me, Emilia. I trust you have learned a lesson from this.”

————-

Shane’s House – Kitchen

Carmen stood stock still in the middle of the kitchen, the look on her face bordering between shock and righteous anger.

In 5 words or less, it was a disaster area.

Open containers of food littered every surface, dirty dishes were piled on whatever surface that wasn’t covered by food and her oven stood open with something caked on the insides. There was food splattered on the floor, counters, cabinets and the ceiling. What looked like a glob of mayonaisse was baked into the lights on the walls.

She didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, laugh then cry or cry then laugh. So she settled on anger instead.

“DAVID ALEX WILLIAMSON!!!!!!!!!! GET YOUR ASS IN HERE RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” She bellowed so loud it was heard in every room in the house and the caverns beneath. A window cracked in Shane’s office, her shout was so powerful.

There were dozens of footsteps throughout the house as vampires obeyed the order of their Queen. They all gathered in the kitchen, off to the side, some of them looking at the mess with guilty expressions. Even Bianca and Misty looked slightly ashamed of themselves. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot, waiting for the one she wanted to see the most. Tala (the name she finally decided on for the she-wolf), sat at Carmen’s feet, her tongue lolling from her mouth, calmly taking it all in.

When he finally arrived, looking as if he hadn’t a care in the world, Carmen’s glare could have melted steel.

“What the fuck happened to my kitchen?” she scowled.

————-

Forests of New Hampshire – Clearing of the Witches Coven

Dyna pulled her car to a full stop and killed the engine. Rae sat quiet, for once, in the seat next to her. She turned to face her.

“Hey. You don’t have to go through with this if you don’t want to. Amelia will understand.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to go through with it. I do. It’s just that…” Rae’s voice trailed off, and Dyna immediately knew what the problem was.

“Rae. We are all very beautiful women. We are born into this world with nothing on. We are simply giving back to those who created us. There is no shame in it.”

“Have you done this before?” Rae looked at her.

“I have. It’s been quite a few years since I’ve participated in one, but I’ve never once been ashamed of my body. You shouldn’t either.”

“Are you staying?”

“I will be by your side every step of the way, sweetie. Trust me, okay?”

“Okay.” Rae nodded, looking at her hands.

Dyna spotted Amelia and Charmaine waving to them from the clearing and she patted Rae’s thigh. “Ready?”

Rae took a deep, steadying breath and nodded. Pocketing her keys, the two women exited the car and made their way to the lit fire in the center of the clearing.

“Greetings, Fellow Sisters.” Dyna greeted in the traditions of the coven. “I bring a new sister into our midsts to partake of our ceremonies. Is this acceptable?”

Vlad’s sudden change in his attitude was a full 180. He was known for this, especially by Emilia who stood silently as she allowed him to take her hands, brushing his lips against her knuckles. The Count was already one step ahead of her, having arranged transportation on a train to New Hampshire. This should have been no surprise. Now he was taking matters into his hands, especially after the General had two mishaps in as many days.

He urged that her safety was paramount to him, but he must have known, that she was important to his survival as well. Emilia’s punishment was that she had to learn a valuable lesson from acting without thinking in a city like New York.

“I promise. It won’t happen again.” Her steel blue eyes showed that she meant every word.

Rheksas was outside the Count’s bedroom and he was already making arrangements for the transportation of their coffins to New Hampshire. Another road trip for him, while the Count and General took the train. He would rather have been on the train with them, but the Count had made up his mind. Rheksas was curious about this place – New Hampshire. Just what the Count was after and who may stand in their way, remained to be seen.

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Shane’s House – Kitchen

The bellow like roar of the Queen of Vampires had sent a shock wave through the entire house, including causing a window to crack in Shane’s den. Shane and Marissa looked sharply at each other, for they couldn’t help but hear it, like everyone else in the house.

“Ah shit.” Shane swore, as Marissa cringed.

“I’d hate to think what he did this time.”

That was a good question.

In the kitchen, the many vampires that had been taking shelter in the house including the “kids” – Misty and Bianca, had all come running, only to see the aftermath of what had been a weekend of non stop cooking.

“DAVID ALEX WILLIAMSON!!!!!!!!!! GET YOUR ASS IN HERE RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Alright..alright, you don’t have to shout. And it’s Alexander…not Alex.”

The Ghost, aka David cruised into the kitchen with a blood doll on each arm. He was wearing dark shaded ray bans and took them off as he saw the mess. “Woah…Hey Carmen. Welcome home.” He said with a sly smile, squeezing a blood doll’s ass cheek as he checked out all the worried faces of the other vampires. It was pretty clear she was mad about the state of her kitchen, and since he was in charge while Carmen and Shane were away, he had some explaining.

“Oh..oh yeah right. See, we all decided that if the guys cooked. The girls cleaned up. Look like they failed on that count.”

Bianca went off. “What? This had nothing to do with us, David. You guys just kept on cooking even after you ate!” She gave his shoulder a punch, which he pretended to take offence too. “How can we clean up, if you guys WON’T stop cooking?!” The girls all started to argue with the boys and the boys were doing all kinds of fancy dancing and laughing as the arguments blew out of proportion, and the noise level was going through the roof.

Something had to give, but David, he was too busy gnawing on a blood doll’s neck in the middle of the fray.

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Forests of New Hampshire – Clearing of the Witches Coven

In the clearing, Charmaine and Amelia had already started the fire, and had brought with them everything needed for the ritual to bring Rae into their coven and under their protection. Wearing long black robes with hoods, each embraced Dyna and Rae, kissing their cheeks and bidding welcome to them to join them around the fire.

“I bring a new sister into our midsts to partake of our ceremonies. Is this acceptable?” Dyna asked, much to the delight of Charmaine, who drew back her hood to expose her blonde hair that was it’s usual shaggy mess.

“Rae…Dyna has brought you before us so that you may be cleansed before the fire and raised to the status of Sister to the Coven. Please, come forth child.’ With a ringed hand, she reached for Rae’s as Amelia started chanting in a mystical voice that was unlike the one Rae or Dyna were used too. Amelia’s hair was out from it’s usual plaits and braids, long and flowing behind her and down her back. Her hands were marked with special drawn on motifs, and she had a small pot that was suspended over the fire, that she kept adding what looked like herbs too.

Leading Rae into place, Charmaine took up the chalice that had been so blessed and winked at Dyna.

“Blood of our blood, life of our life. This we drink joins us in spirit tonight.”

Charmaine takes a sip and then passes it to Rae.

“Drink….child, and become one of us.”

Little did the small circle of witches know….they were being watched.

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