The Dark Realmz
IC Central [RPG ONLY] => "Ayenee Nexus: Where Imagination Knows No Bounds => RP Archives 2005-2019 => Topic started by: Andarta the Slave on September 15, 2008, 11:21:31 PM
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[align=justify:0545f890af]For a long time Andarta knew what it was to be free. Her slave masters had cruel hands and she did not like the way they touched her when the fires grew dim at the slave camp. She lived her life on the run. Being caught and sold from one master to the next. She even had a deal between her last master, that he sold her, she ran away and came back to him only to be sold again and repeat the process. Andarta even earned some small coinage for her trouble and the punishment recieved afterwards. He had to make it look realistic and prices were high for the fiesty ones. No one wanted a mute puppy to kick around in the dirt, rolling over to pee at her masters feet. She was a challenge to be broken. But broken she would be, she could only take so much from the scars of whips and bruises from the punches.
She wasn't young like she used to be, no longer the child all dirty men wanted to crave over. Her skin was still smooth and supple, but held the markings of slavery days. White marks showing the years of chains around both her ankles and wrists. Wild eyes that darted like an animal when striken with fear, black with flashed of white. Simple clothing that was merely a sack now tattered, flesh black with dirt and mud, bare feet covered thick with mud, rough from the years of having to run. She was sick of running, then again running was all she knew other than pain. A slave was never allowed to shed tears, though she was permitted to scream as leathers whooshed through the air and thr air filled with that menacing CRACK. Again and again. Though everything in the past was nothing compared to what she was going to receive. This was the place she feared the most.
They had to drag her from the cage placed on the back of a horse drawn carriage. Heels digging down in the dry soil while hands grappled and grabbed at anything that would delay imprisionment. The slave master standing on the back of her knuckles. Grinding her fingers into the dirt as snaps were heard. She couldn't help but scream for the angels to save her. Despite that she knew there were no angels here only devils. Being dragged to a rat infested cage only to be thrown against the bars and whipped to an inch of her life. All went dark, she passed out. The pain searing against her spine felt like fire. Whipped raw to the point of flesh dripping in mean open wounds only to have salt thrown over her making her come to. Screamed like a wild animal, rushing at the bars head first, head butting the bars over and over again, wailing, yelling, screaming.
It was all she knew. This slave had no education, barely even spoke a word of english or any other language. Her village had been simple pagans, knew only what the earth provided, the seasons and lunar tides, when to harvest and when to plant. She knew only of simple Gods, none of the darkness where her life had been thrown. To the lions. To their sick amusements. She hated them all, wished they were dead. And tomorrow she would be sold to another dispicable filthy soul with only one thing on his or its mind. Already she had plotted to her mind that given the first chance she would bite it off, then spit it back in his face while she stabbed him through. This time she wouldn't make being sold so easily. This time she would make it so no one would want to buy her, then she would be sold to the life of the slave markets working for the masters she loathed with all her heart and soul.
Tomorrow would be a new day.[/align:0545f890af]
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[align=justify:8b621486d6]The cracking of the whip against flesh caused her to wake from the nightmare that had gripped her. It was a sound she had grown to fear, to hate. Hands gripping at the bars tightly and with all her might she wanted to yell out "LEAVE HER ALONE! LEAVE HER THE FUCK ALONE YOU CUNNIES!" but it was something she couldn't do, not even if with all her might she wished for it. Managing to escape as well from the slave hoardes, she had managed to get herself caught. Her punishment had not only been the flaying of flesh but also the silencing by fire. They had burnt her lips until the soft plumps of flesh melded together. Someday she knew they would heal, but it would not be anytime soon.
With every flay her eyes closed, then with a snap opening wildly as if to expect her hide would be the next to ravish with leather and steel. During the times of punishment, she would close her eyes and remember what it was like to be home back in the loving arms of her coven. You see, she belonged to a comune of witches, those who worshipped the moon, the light and the darkness. It had been a peaceful existence until they brought their weapons, their manly desires of rape and death. None had escaped save for her and the youngest, prettiest women. Most of them had perished before now, by some grace alone she had managed to keep herself alive. Even that though wasn't looking too good.
The beating had become worse, more violent. The rapes more brutal and less human, like copulating animals wanting to breed only to cut the unborns from the womens stomachs and eat them raw. Had demons possessed them? Every night she cried herself to sleep,prayed to the goddess of light to deliver her from this darkness until she discovered there was nothing left of light in this world. So instead she began praying to the darkness, vowing her soul to the one who would take her from this hellhole of male dominance. Each and every night she prayed to this being of darkness, offered tokens of her own blood by slicing her flesh with a sharp fingernail. Watching crimson beads fall to the ground, turn into dirty puddles where she could look at her reflection. Black as night.
When the slave masters had gone. Reaching over to grab a peice of the stale bread they had given to her. Taking it and offering it to the girl who had just been beaten. Shaking it to show she offered it, that she was going to need her strength for the auction and if she had another plan of escape. All she had in her cage was a corpse and a stick. Poking the corpse no longer amused her and it had run rife with larvae, flies. Now bloated blue and black, but she had gotten used to the stench. She could write to the girl, send her a message but if the slavers caught her. It would certainly mean her losing her hands to the blade of sword, flames of the fire or some other form of torture not seen. All she could hope for was the girl was still alive.[/align:8b621486d6][/size]
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He had left what could only be her temple with only one thing in mind, to either trap a mortal return and make sacrifice. After all, they were only mortal and if he found one not linked to the old ways, then what matter their death. The hanging god wasn't exactly going to reach a hand down from the heavens and tell Mallebron his use of them was wrong...
ooc - I know this is out of place but what the hey - And God reached down from the heavens and said "Mallebron... You SUCK"
With seeming invisibility he moved in silence, over the barren landscape until he entered a harsh and wild feeling forest. Feeling completely at home, he ran, as swift as the fastest deer amidst the trees, preternatural senses reaching forward to feel out the presence of human kind. He could smell a village in the breeze, the burning fuel, the unclean state of the township, the animals bound under the burden of men, and worst of all, he could here the agonies of the fae affected by their trees being cut and cold iron being used.
Exiting the woods, his appearance for now bound in illusion, seeming to appear a normal man, a merchant dressed well enough to appear successful, but not the richness of those who strutted like peacocks, but if you glanced out of the corner of your eye you may see the differences, the strangeness. As he walked towards the town gates he noticed to his left, the sound of a whip striking flesh, screams and shaking his head he turned and moved towards the sound. Why did these creatures believe themselves something special when they treated their own in such fashion. Pathetic really. Mallebron entered the slave market, looking around and seeing the woman whom had been whipped and another in the cage.
Head cocking to one side, the smell of a corpse present in the air, and he allowed himself the growl of a merchant whom had travelled far only to find poor merchandise. A trader emerging from a nearby door at the sound, whip in hand ready for discipline then stopping as he saw Mallebron there waiting to buy. Mallebron had apparently used the wrong entrance and the trader tried to steer him towards better pens but he stood his ground and began arguing about the two before him. Then looking the Trader deep in the eyes he allowed some of his true nature to show. The traders attitude changed, became fearful as Mallebron continued to berate him about the conditions present, all the while exerting his will upon this fat, sweaty greasy little man who dared strut himself around as if he was royalty. Soon the exchange would be made and the man would be left that gold that would vanish, and a fear of things going bump in the night...
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[align=justify:5bf18f12b9]Had she not been in so much pain, she would have taken notice there was a new player on the field. Andarta barely even gave him a second glance as her head drooped against the bars of her cell. She thought she was going to die here. She didn't want to die here, there didn't seem like she had much choice though. A soft clink against the bars caused her to look up and over at the other woman offering her the last of her food supply. It would have been rude not to take the offering, however she did not take all of it. Breaking off a piece and handing it back to the girl with a forced smile. âThank youâ She didnât know what else to say in case the slave guard heard them, gave them both another dealing. Andarta didnât think she could take another beating, not so soon after the last. Trying to hear some of the conversation between the strange looking man and the slave master she could not help but feel a sense of dread. It wasnât in the way he looked or dressed, there was just something foreboding about him. Something corrupted.
Her guess had been this other girl couldnât talk, before she actually looked and saw the horror that had befallen her mouth. Was it burnt or sewn up? Andarta couldnât tell from this distance and didnât want to make the girl feel like a freak show either. But her attentions turned back to the males, watching the reactions with vague interest. It wasnât like anything else was going on. Plus she was rather surprised the slavers would deal with the populace during the night hours. Usually they were turned away. Was this one a vampire? No, Andarta didnât think so. He didnât have the death tone of rot to his skin. His eyes looked very much alive, full of magic and power. She could not help but stare into those eyes. Be it by magic or enchantment. For a moment it took the pain away and that was all she cared about. To be free from pain. A massive giant being lifted from her shoulders, a moment of bliss.
It was when the girl finally took back the piece of loaf that was left over. Chewing on it and ignoring the hard, stale, dry taste. Forcing a swallow only to take another bite. She felt bad about taking the food, but part of her punishment had meant no food rations and she was starving. Because of the lack of trade and disease, profits had taken a major dive. Because she was a flight risk, wayward and disobedient she was not a first priority to be sold. Or maybe it was because they enjoyed their tampering with her when the camp was quiet to sleep? She didnât care what she had to do to get out of here, but she was pretty much willing to try again. Whistling loud, hoping to get the strange dressed mans attention. âHey, if you pay a pretty penny to ensure my freedom⦠I will make it worth your whileâ offering a sly wink and the show of some slender leg. It hurt to move, but Andarta wanted to pull some moves to get the hell out of this hole.[/align:5bf18f12b9]
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[align=justify:1b7deec4ca]There was no need for a thankyou, she only did what she had been taught in the coven. To care for each other, to cure and to curse. It was all she really knew, to share may bring some fortune down upon them and free them from this wretched place. Tiny drops of blood didn't seem to work and when the bread was offered, again she pinched her skin until it bleed, though this time dripping it onto the bread. Holding it up to the darkness as her heart bleed out its darkness. The slavers were restless, scuffling about in the cells and dens as if they were dirty rats. It wasn't far from the truth in her eyes. Swearing competitions of curses wasn't out of the normal, but a caller in the night was. Regret studied him closely as her hand held fast the emblem of her faith. Some insight, some inner council.
There was nothing to be seen. An amateur in this field, her training had only begun with Star when the siege had befallen the sanctuary. Regret knew enough that he was no mortal, too much effect waved about his form, an energy she could not explain in her own knowledge. Notiving the reaction of the other female close to her that had taken her small gift of friendship. If it had been seen that way, she knew it was every woman for herself out here and you had to pull some dirty tricks to get bought before the scraps were thrown to the barbarians. Big hairy, smelly men. Had no appeal to her, she was more into woman. A woman's body was a temple to worship. Then again she had never known a man. Sliding back down against the bars of her cell, watching the girl watch the man, eager to be sold. Calling out to him, promising some sort of action and she thought "why not, maybe we both can get out of this prison?"
Hands removing tattered clothing to reveal the full naked sleek tones of her body bearing the tribal markings of her coven. Sacred symbols to the witches and also those who watched, participated in their solstice and equinox rituals, from the fires of Beltane to the celebration of love. Without shame Regret stood out in the moon and torch light, as naked as the day she was born and offered to the moon as its child. Blessed by those golden rays. Dark hair falling down around her shoulders while the slavers got their eyeful. She could not speak but instead grabbing the stick she has used to poke the corpse with a few times began to musically beat out a tune.
She wasn't no dumb mute like they made her out to be "You don't want that one. She is a bit simple, can't even talk. Even if she did you would have better uses for it" it all had to involve their cocks with these men. Sure her coven worshipped the phallus at certain rituals, there was not a thing these men had to brag about. Very small matters. Regret paid them no attention, she performed for the stranger. No just musically but also in the slow, seductive motion of dance. They may have called out to her "Here baby dance on this!" grabbing at their crotches. "Ride it like you did last night as I forced it into you" plus more. There was never an end to the obscenity. All she hoped was that they had enough of his attention to want more. âLeast youâll get it up her. Not frigid like the other whores. These two are hot, wet and ready.â
The last of the words drowned out to her, lost in the night.[/align:1b7deec4ca][/size]
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As he dealt with the slaver Mallebron allowed his vision to wander over the cages, one woman, beaten, hurting nearly useless for the long march ahead, allowing the subtle twist of field and forest to flow when his gaze was caught easing her burden if only momentarily. Only practicality, no compassion in his action. Before they left when the guards had handed them over he would give a draft of ancient origins, and her strength would rise and body would heal. There remained at least a little spirit as she moved to expose flesh in attempt to draw his eye. He had already made his decision that he would take her.
Glance moving to the woman whom had given the beaten slave a morsel, an eye cocked wider for he could sense this one saw through his illusion. A witch perhaps, a mage, a student of the broader arts and his eye was caught long before the woman stood and stripped. Allowing a smirk of amusement to crinkle his features and letting it drip into a leer for the benefit of the trader he coughed and pointed... "I'll take that one too". The trader disturbed by the offer made, beginning to argue and Mallebron's strong hands grasping his collar and lifting his feet off the ground with ease, drawing him close to his gaze. This time he didn't hold back allowing the essential force of his nature to reveal itself for the tiniest fragment of a moment. "I will take them both for the sum I just stated!!!" His voice deep and chilled in the nights echoes.
No roam for bargaining left, he let go his grip dropping the trader and began counting out elf gold from a pouch to his side. The trader gasping a fearful acknowledgement as again Mallebron spoke "Bring them fresh clothing, we have far to travel and I want shoes for them... I also want hot water, for their stench offends me. See too it little man, NOW!!!" The last word a dull roar and the slaver took the money and yelled orders to his men. The deal done, Mallebron turned on his heel to face the cages, watching as a tub of steaming water was brought, fresh clothing and shoes. Drawing a flask from his cloak, he held it out, his eyes compelling to the woman brazenly standing before him. "Take this, drink it will give strength and health, give her some as well. It is not a kindness, for we have far to travel and we cannot be slowed..." His tone soft yet within it hidden nuances to create enough trust that they would drink.
The draught a potion of potent healing, on his kind they could run through seven nights and days without food or rest, on a mortal, it would heal their wounds, and give the equal of a months good food and rest. When they were washed and clothed, he drew forth light chains from under his robes, and with a scowl to the stepped into the filth and clasped the chains to the girls wrists, leading them both out into the night... Head turning back to where the slaver watched him, "Don't even think of sending your guards to follow me little man, they wont return if you do", and with that threat he led the two slaves out and away into the darkness.
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[align=justify:3ec5650f56]With her came the jingling of silver bells and the faintest laugh that could easily be thought of as âchildâ. Lyrics singing out from the shadows, the darkness- all around them that it was no possible to pinpoint an exact location other than âlegionâ. Vocally, the haunting tune was unnaturally beautiful, but the undertone something far more dark than a mortals perception, to them it would be enchantingly captivating, all else, empty. "We be tinklinâ to the sounds of silvâr bells, over dale to the valley below. Come all ye childrân, sons and pretty daughters. Come to the marshes edge, and be cursed by the waters!!" For most the limericks of the fey never made sense, but they always had darker meanings behind the cadence of enchantment. Had not been for the traitorous one, she would never have bothered to stain her essence with the stench of these mortals, they would have lived, drank and been merry⦠perhaps they would have even lived longer, much longer than this cold night.
Apparitions danced in the foggy shadows, through the night. Even the clouds took formidable shapes of horrific faces with gaping maws opening wide, and burning eyes where the moonlight shone through. Just because these foul creatures didnât see the Unseelie, the presence would be felt with a chilling, artic embrace of winter and death. The wind began to pick up, starting with a muted moan to that of a banshee wail. Shrieking, howling and gnashing. The violence of it would sting their flesh as if bitten by invisible wasps, forming in large swollen reddened welts across face and exposed limbs. Unsavory nakedness too would feel this rapture of burning spite. Had she thought she knew of pain, pain inflicted by mortals was one thing, but the pain inflicted by the Fey was beyond that of comprehension. But she would experience the wrath of Lady Rat soon enough.
All good things come to those who wait, unfortunately so do all bad things. Flying from the perpetual embrace of night, a lone figure appeared silhouetted in pure darkness where not even the light could reach; it rebounded off her figure as if repelled by something so abysmal even the elements feared it. Slowly walking through the camp, not even taking bother to glance sideward as one of the guards rapidly approached her with weapon drawn. Swinging it to sever her existence only to be met with a hand tight around the throat, her flesh was more pale than winters snow- her grip a tourniquet that couldnât be broken even as other guards rushed to pull her back. "Now, now. That is no way to greet a Lady. Shall my lips kiss you; give you that⦠sssssshhhh hush-a-bye baby?" Words so cold, and cruel, sharper than any icicle, more shrill than the highest of zeniths.
The guard in her grip began to freeze, splinters of ice grating over skin in visions of indigo, blue and black veins. The expression displayed on his face was pure of horror as he tried with all his might to break free. The others with their paws upon her began to follow suit, but it was not their heads frozen. Fingers began to crack and snap. Breaking at the knuckles and joints, some even being forced back as if something powerful grabbed them, pushing them back hard against the wrists; screams infiltrated the streams as shadowy tentacles ripping and shredded, reaching out from her form like the legs of spiders. To the one caught in her grasp, he would be nothing more than a block of frozen stone, ice rapid engulfing to the feet before spreading out with greedy vines along the ground, killing and wilting all in their paths.
Turning slowly, the hood of her cloak pulled down over her face, had it not been for the hand none of them would know a creature of substance manifested. Now Lady Ratâs attention was focused upon Mallebron, no time was wasted in approaching him swifter than what his own shadow could. Face to face, hand casually relaxed at her side before swiping it before her svelte form as if to swat an insect. Manipulated energy gyrating from the essence of her magical being, that energy surging forth to take control of the action and compel it forwards across the features of Mallebron with such an influence it would knock any man or creature of its balance. That essence of her mana taking form of her will and using it to fulfill the actions her intent intended. "You pretentious clump of swamp moss⦠did Titania not tell you when she popped you off her tit, that your kind should stick to the light of day, that of spring and summer? This is our time, and you shall pay for the intrusion."
A cruel smile played across her hidden features while the attention of her eyes turned to the mortal whores, her energy still held, concentrated around her form like a coiled snake waiting to strike again⦠and strike she would. [/align:3ec5650f56]
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Leading his charges by the light chain tehy were bound with out adn away from the slave pens on the edge of the town, Mallebron watched the night. It seemed to have taken on a far more chilled aspect then when he had been making his purchases, yet he knew he had to make his path back in as short a time as possible to the unholy place he had found. The lights of the town dimming behind him, the forest looming before him, An air of confident strength surrounding his form. Fae eyes, seeing the night as bright as day.
A fae chill running up his spine, there was movement of things unseen in the night and Mallebron pondered the wisdom of bringing the two mortals out into the wildness. His blood began to sing as deep perception sensed the presence of something from beyond the veil, something wild and untamed from his own realm of existance. Pace quickening, for once he reached the woods he would have as much advantage as the other. Hearing capable of hearing a pin drop half a world away recoiling as screams penetrated his senses, tendrils of fog writhing around his ankles as he drew moisture from the air to cloak.
To late however, a flurry of motion, then before him one of the others, one of the dark side of nature appearing, a hand rising bound in turmoil, propping his feet, the earth binding his form in solidity as a hand rose in sudden and savage passion, the passions and potence of the wild hunt striking across his face, the slap, extravegantly loud in the nights now silent antagonism. Head shuddering under the impact of brutal forces, body twisting slightly, but the earth beneath his feet holding him upright, A mortal or lesser being would have near had neck broken and been thrown some distance, but Mallebron, was no normal man. Still he would bear a pretty sheen upon that side of his face.
Eyes flickering in savage cruelty at this unseelie creature before him. "I may have suckled Titania's breast, but you fell out of her ass dark creature... Enough" his tone now as subteranean as grinding granite. Illusion binding the eyes of the two slaves, so they would see none of this, only believe they were walking still, but he knew the witch woman, would perhaps see through the illusion. "Have you not noticed, the way is sealed, something has locked the way to our own, and every moment we remain in this world we weaken. Betwwen the cold iron tehy wield and tehir lack of belief that we even exist, we die here. Now step aside, for I seek a path to reopen the gates, so that NOT only my kind may survive, but Your" the word was hissed in open animosity "kind as well."
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[align=justify:796bb7ac6c]Lady Rat chuckled, the sound low, harsh as if a flint was being struck along a gravestone. This one of the Seelie amused her immensely, it wasn't every day that her company was amongst the village idiots and jesters. How conceited he seemed in his confidence that she herself could not wait to knock him down a mushroom or two, thinking himself superior and just when in fact he could not have gotten the story more incorrect. Her pale hand had struck his face, but that was nothing to the passion of hatred swelling up from the energy of her essence. The magical fire burning in her spirit, she was just no ordinary Unseelie Faery.
Lady Rat was something far greater to be feared and reckoned with. His stale words scathed nothing of her surface, in fact did not even merit a reaction other than swiftly retorted words, just as spiteful and with far more venom upon her tongue."I think you mistake me for your brother, after the goat had its way with your impotent Queen. From what I know, your kind love getting down with the animals, goats, sheep, anything with a horn." Another snide smirk, taking relish in the delight of the last tidbit of information that would most certainly ruin his little skip through the woods, and make hers all the more better to savor. "Aww, would you like a tissue?" Pulling one out from her pocket and annoyingly waving it about in the face of Mallebron. "Or better yet... violins??"
With a clap of her hand, the lamented sound of violins began to play, a rather solemn tune as she faked a single tear. "Your way may be sealed. Mine is not." The dark smile widening across her pale features, darkness twinkling in her eyes with all the sadistic malice her kin were known for. "Do not flatter yourself, puny insect. That you should open the way to fairyland...but I shall offer you one condolence. The war is already won, shame for you... you lost." It had not dawned to Lady Rat that Mallebron was trapped in this world? It was beyond her possible imagination that such things could fall into the palm of her hand like a fallen star, waiting for her to crush it.
She wasn't trapped to this world and its hideous mortal ways, she had the leisure of coming and going as she pleased, a lovely leisure to misuse when he so desperate to return home to his beloved... was denied. How delightful. Chuckling like a child who had just eaten the last piece of chocolate fudge. "How do you intend to return to your world, O'great shining one??" Lady Rat required the last ingredient of entertainment to drink, thus far his performance had been more than satisfactory. Comical with a minor climatic exuberance. How much sweeter could this get? There was no way she had settled for just one slap, when she wished to see his face reddened , flustered to the point of explosion. That was the climax she desired and one she would certainly get.[/align:796bb7ac6c]
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Andarta's eyes blinked as the slave masters got what they had deserved. But she could not help but feel sorry for them. Despite what they had done to her, she still help sympathy and empathy, maybe they didn't know any better? It was a way of life, some had a choice where as others did not. They had beaten her, they had tried to rape her, but this life was all she had ever known as a child and a fear suddenly began to take over. What was out there in the world waiting for her? What was about to become of her? What if it was worse than here? What if she was about to step into another hell? Suddenly Andarta felt like a child again, one that wanted to clutch at her mothers breast and never let go, never wanting to know that fear and dread of loss.
Shutting her eyes tight as she was being led away along the path and into the forest? away from the slavers, the death and the strange woman whose touch could turn a man to stone. What sorceress was she? What foul deeds was she capable of? What was she going to do to them should she defeat the man? Andarta could not help but cringe, move like an animal that had been kicked one time to many, timid. A part of her wanted to believe that this man was taking her to freedom, but something else inside told her to run, run far far away from him and never look back. He made her uneasy. He made her feel as if was the devil himself hungry for the soul of an innocent.
Bare feet dragged along the ground, chains clinking with her every movement. She found it hard to see, the light from the moon was minimal and everything made her jumpy. The sudden knock and attack from the dark stranger in the cloak made her dash behind the trees, hands trembling while her head popped around the side of the trunk to see. The other slave who couldn't talk holding back a little ways up the path trying to decide if she was going to run or stay there. Andarta motioning over to her to join her behind the tree, if it all went Topsy turvy at least they had thick cover behind them and the darkness on their side. However, Andarta doubted they could outrun the man let alone the stranger, she had a very bad feeling about them both, the woman a lot more than the man and that was saying something.
It seemed these two had an old conflict going on. She didn't understand what it was about and didn't even understand the woman's accent and references to Titiana?? She thought the Queen of the Fairies was just a nice story good parents read to their children to send them into sweet dreams. Were these two crazy? She thought the man was done for when she heard the impact of the slap, it sounding like a felled tree falling through the forest, with a loud CRACK. "Ouch, that has got to have hurt?" saying that to herself but not out aloud. Heaven forbid, the last thing she wanted to do was piss these two fairies off.
Regret gave me permission to auto her character.
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[align=justify:d021d2455d]She had followed the other slave, the man totally naked, dancing along the path while the moonlight shone down upon her tribal and witchcraft based tattoo's. It was if she was in a trance, dazed to the events surrounding her of the men being turned to icy stone, the strange woman who spoke as if her voice was the frozen winds of winter. At times Gaia took her away from the horrors of the world that surrounded her, the harsh reality she lived while as a slave to beg to the whims of men and monster.
She had been brought back to the slave auctions four times, one for biting her masters ear off, the other his nose and the last two there trouser vipers. Regret would not permit herself to be touched by a man, her purity was for the Goddess, and the Goddess only. Being grabbed and pulled behind a tree caused Regret to scowl at the other, she was sure best intentions were meant. But she wanted to dance, wanted to be caught in the music of the Goddess that she was dancing to.
A beautiful face appearing in the moon, causing her arms to sway upwards like the head of a snake above her head, swaying to the tune playing in her mind, catching her to the moon's spell. A spell that she could not break free from. Pulling her wrist from the grasp of the other slave, dancing out in the darkness around and around the man who had bought them and the woman or thing that tormented him. She cared not for their presence, to her they didn't exist in the same time as she. Moving in between the man and the woman, dancing and not stopping, even if they tried to force her to.
The symbols of protection inked on her body forbade the use of dark fey magic to be used again her and she believed these craven images to be effective. The symbol of the silver pentagram, the element of earth giving her the protection of the Great Divine Mother and the symbolism of the Celtic moon showing that she was a child of nature and to harm her would incur the wrath of the mother. This was the night of her mother, something special was about to happen, the stars shone down, the moon streaked her in rays of gold for she was one of the chosen ones. Whatever that was suppsose to mean. But the Goddess told her this, and she placed all her trust in the mother of all creation.[/align:d021d2455d][/font]
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Another slave had escaped the auction. The woman in the dark cloak had frozen them all to ice and stone. Lammashta was amused at this trick because she had used similar magics before, however they did not work as rapidly as that, but worked all the same. With the camp all in a ruckus, it had been the perfect time to escape. Using butter that was on her bread over a series of a couple of weeks, storing it in a rag torn from her attire. Using this to rub along the bars and squeeze herself through, liberating her from the bonds of her misery. Lammashta knew she must travel with these ones. The Dark Goddess had approached her in dreams and nightmares, luring her to those slender, loving arms to embrace her into the dark folds of her promises. Yes, indeed, she had been promised much, riches, glory and most important of all... her freedom.
That was the most important thing to her, her treasured freedom. She could then return home to the dark lands of Carthin where she was originally from. The land of black roses and mystical beauty. It was the Goddess of her lands that promised this freedom, to deliver these slaves and the male to her temple. Spill their blood, slit their throats and hang them from the pylons- that was all it was going to take her to receive her prize. Nothing would stop her from accomplishing this, her heart desired it more than anything. No lover could compare to this yearning, this inescapably from wanting something more than life itself. And it would be hers.
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Although the path to his home was closed, whilever there was earth to stand on, trees reaching for the sky, and water flowing, he was not impotent. Knuckles whitening at teh insults being piled atop him, teeth grinding and far off in the distance the sound of earth vibrating deeply as beneath their feet the very ground shuddered in the majesty of his rage. Mallebron wasn't the champion of the seelie court for no reason, andd his rage was legendary at any insult to his beloved Oberon and Titania.
Hanging by his left side, ready to be cross drawn was his sword, the sowrd given him by his Lord Oberon and from the blade a faint song arose. The sword alway sang when the potential for battle was near, yet Mallebron drew it not. Even against one such as this, his return to Gaia's surety was of far greater concern for Mallebron had learned since leaving Gaia's warm embrace to rein in his anger to at least some degree.
A wind picking up, scatering leaves adn tugging at clothing as it built in intesity around the group, sky already dark, filling with clouds and the rumble of thunder roiling in the distance. His voice a hiss, filled with all the harshness that natures own elements could offer, "Abomination, accursed wretch of the unseelie way, stand aside with your taunting. This place..." Mallebron paused gesturing with his right hand, "This place is not my world, nor yours it is a place you would find comfortable in its dark chill."
Right hand now pointing up into the mountain towering over where they stood, "Up there, is a place dedicated to a Goddess, not some paltry self serving creation like so many of your kind, a temple of sorts, dark and by most means unholy, but to this Goddess a holy tribute. I take these two slaves, as offering to gain her ear so that I may return to the mother where I belong, away from your kinds abberations for I tire of such uncouth company., perhaps her nature would suit the darkness of the rot you claim as a heart?"
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She was not sure if she had heard right, âgive them to herâ. What could that possibly mean? It disturbed Andartaâs mind. There was so much here that she did not understand or care to understand for it is was so far out of her comprehension. The man and the woman in vocal conflict only confused the slave more, she was beginning to question just what she had got herself into. Not that she had much choice. A slave was a slave, this was her lot in life and had grown to accept it at a very young age. To her everyone had a destiny, a destiny they could not change. You had to accept it, or choke on it. It was not a glamorous life, but it was a life, better than being dead.
Moving out from behind the tree, standing beneath the bridge of an old creaking bough, trying to catch a better glimpse at the cloaked woman. There was something about her that made everything appear as if it had come to a standstill, as if time itself was stopped. The man who had bought them was not afraid of the woman, but there was something in his voice that suggested to Andarta that they were old enemies. There was just that tone in his voice that she had heard often during her travels from land to realm, house to home. Cringing in the still elements, Andarta held back the questions she wanted to ask. Wanting to know what the man meant by giving them to some dark goddess. That could not be an overly good thing, not in her understanding.
It wasnât a time either to get all sexy, to try and persuade the man to spare their lives only to give them the chance to escape in the night. Andarta didnât think he would be that foolish, that by the look of him he had eyes in the back of his head anyway. She would just be wasting her time trying to get away only to get caught and punished. An energy buzzed all about him and the verbal woman, both throwing insults at the other but a power existed behind it. Something that sparkled and fizzed around their auras and atmosphere. This influence she could not explain, she wanted to understand but thought it better to keep to herself and speak only when spoken to.
All she could do was take the information he had provided and find her own answers. If that were possible. The darkness was a fear this slave did not want to stand around in. Bad things happened at night for it was the time when the creatures of the shadows rose up to claim lives and souls. Smother infants and take the last heartbeat of the elderly. Not one thing was safe out here, and that began to make Andarta slightly nervous. Eyes darting over to Regret, studying any reaction given by her but even she made Andarta feel at ends with normality. Nothing was normal about her either.
There was something that gave her a feeling she was being taken into a dark embrace, being promised a wish from some dark thing that wanted her blood and soul not her allegiance. Hands grabbed at Regrets arm, wanting to shake her out of the trance she was in. Whatever was dragging her back into the darkness would not bring her freedom or joy, just death and misery. A creature of darkness never kept a promise, they tried their hardest to cheat everything of worth out from the one wanting to bargain. Only sorrow would come of it. Staring into Regrets eyes âWhatever it is promising you, do not listen. Please.â Those eyes pleaded with Regret to listen.
"Please!!!"
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Regret pushed Andarta away, dark auburn eyes glaring at her as if she had done some injustice. Regret did not like to be touched, not while reaching out and being touched by a Goddess. It was the first time she had ever experienced something as divine as this. Actually being touched by the Goddess of Moon and Night. Well at least this was what she was being told, lured into a sense of protection from a deity she had learned to respect and worship. The female in the hooded black clock only hindered her blessing to be blessed, it began to annoy her. Lips chanting silently to place a warding spell on the mysterious figure.
A spell to repel and send it back into the shadows where it had come from. Cosmic intent and force just as pure as the energy held and projected, no abuse or ill-intent used in the chant just enough to fix the meddlesome interference in her ascension to the folds of the Goddess. This was all Regret cared about, it had been what she had waited for all her life. The sisterhood had promised her the threefold blessing of the moon, stars and night. This had to be her moment.
The dark haired male only confirmed what was being whispered to her. That they had to journey to this magnificent temple, be offered and sacrifice themselves willingly to be reborn again in the vision of the Goddess. They were being promised eternal life. No sickness, no aging and no death. To remain beautiful forever and dance for the pleasure of the Goddess. Everything else was being suffocated from her mind, all she saw were those two beautiful black eyes beaming with a benevolence Regret could forever be lost in.
Full scarlet lips speaking these promises with a voice dripping with seduction and want. Wanting her, and only her. To be her lover in death and darkness, to taste the crimson wine on her lips, to feel those wanton kisses on her lips and neck. Regret yearned for a love to make everything else fail in comparison. Making her want to die, anything to receive the bounties of her sacrifice. There was no concern if the other slave wanted to die or not. Her hand would gratefully kill her if the man wanted no blood on his hands. Not the blood of an innocent. Not like her, who would screw, do whatever needed to obtain her ultimate goal, freedom. That was what this glorious Goddess was offering her, only her.
A chance for a new beginning, not as a slave but as a sacred priestess of the stars. Any witch would dive at the chance, she would make her sisters proud, bring them to the Goddess to be embraced by her loving, cold arms. Blessed with her kiss and supreme beauty, in her image they would worship and be reincarnated. Eyes closing, naked figure dancing in the wraps of darkness and shadows. Becoming more lost in the clutches of the Dark Goddess, she was gone from this world, flying high above the clouds and pains of this world. In her own mind.
âDarkness is where we were born and in darkness we shall returnâ being spoken over and over again until it all became one phrase of dedication and chant, the power of the earth rising through the chakraâs and through the vortexâs of reality. Time and reality splitting in two creating a portal to the place where he spoke and that which her heart had spoken to. She would light the way for them, all they had to do was step in and be welcomed by her dark kiss.
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The Unseelie could not believe her ears, one moment the rodent was telling her he wished to return to the land of love and light, and then in the next seeking the aid of a Dark Goddess? âHypocrite!â Lady Rat spat towards him, teeth clenched as hand furled into another punch wanting to taste his pale flesh. Glittery orbs looking over at the slaves, eyeing then up and down with a callous cold stare, feeble beings of flesh they were, not even beautiful so Lady Rat could not understand what any Dark Goddess could relish in such a pathetic sacrifice as these two dregs. âYou know nothing of sacrifice now do you. Have you not even considered for one moment that you look down on me, and yet you are no better?â A sly slant forming over strawberry lips, a mocking leer because she knew what she was about to say was correct and now she had the Seelie in a cherished game of cat and mouse, and she was no mouse.
âGiving them to this Dark Goddessâ Gesturing to both the slaves with a rude flair of her waving hand âMurder makes you worse that I, for I have never killed when the existence of my people were not threatened. You see, what you are about to do. What I know you are about to do in even a sin in the eyes of your kin. Youâll be marked, thrown from your sleepy lands to a world dark like mine. I do not think you have the stamina to be excommunicated. Not since you speak so fondly of returning.â Lady Ratâs voice was of pure ridicule. The Unseelie Court may be the surge of the fey in his eyes, but at least they did not fall so hard from their principles. Didnât turn their backs on their ethics and always kept the way true, as true to their black blood as possible. This was too rich, to see a Seelie fall from grace was every dream come true to the Dark Fey.
She cared not if he was becoming feisty, he did not have the skill to sever her essence from this world and from the world of the fey. That was no longer in his power, for as he had stated, he grew weaker the longer he remained in this world. The longer he was kept from fulfilling his quest with this Dark Goddess. So, the long he stuck around chin wagging, the weaker he got right there before her eyes. But now what was this? A flutter of magic only to fizzle when if hit against he energy of centuries, black eyes gazing over to the naked wretch. Hand coming up in front of her, swooping across in the action of a harsh slap. One projected directly from her energy and mana, a slap that would be felt in severe red welts right across the right cheek to the left. A force that would send her flying through the air only to land hard against the roughness of a massive tree trunk.
âDo not try your pitiful magicks on me, weak human for I could crush you like a little bug and grant you that wish of meeting the Dark Goddess far sooner than what you expected.â It was no idle threat, that could be seen in the blaze infuriating within her eyes, like lamps lit in the darkness. Gaze flashing back towards Mallebron âI suggest you tell your, miserable offering that the next one who tries infantile magicks on me, will learn what it means to suffer. I could destroy you all and not even blink. Even that precious Dark Goddess of yours.â Lady Rat had many experiences with so called Goddesses, most of them turned out to be over glorified humans caught in the vanity of their own egoâs. Not one had been formidable enough to stand against her, so this adventure would perhaps prove to be interesting, if not, she would kill them all and be done with it.
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[align=justify:4f92b8485a]Lammashta followed at a close distance. Merging in and at from the mitigations of darkness and moonlight, like a shadow. There was a specific purpose for her meddling, to watch and report to the dark goddess herself, AtraâLamia. Dedications had to be maintained and it were true that every goddess needed her bath of blood to replenish. The dark priestess owed AtraâLamia her life, she had plucked her from the fields of Elysium, the valley of shadows and back into the flesh. Everything would be dedicated to her, life and death beyond. The real blessing was that Lammashta was given her otherworldly powers obtained in the underworld, powers stolen and diabolized from hapless shades and spirits. Essences of once powerful sorceresses, witches, warlocks and formidable creatures, Lammashta giving what powers that were needed by the goddess. She had plenty enough to share. Not that she had much choice.
Even if she was detected by the all-seeing eye of the fey, they would miss her and see only but a shadow waving in the breeze from the forest that surrounded them. The flutter of owl wings, or the scuttle of unseen creatures. Her form blended into that of the shades, even though she was also awarded the skill of fleshshifting. A spirit to move into body was the greatest of all awards for services yet to be done. And she had every intentions of making them real, done and delivered. For now all Lammashta had to do was watch and follow. The foolish little fairy was doing all the work for her, all she had to do was make sure their paths did not stray from the way of the dark temple. It all had to go perfectly, not one thing was permitted to go wrong otherwise she would be dragged back, clawing the earth and screaming for all the demons and angels to hear.
There was no way that Lammashta wanted to return back to that wet, damp place. To hear the screams of the tormented, the moans of the sorrowful and the gnashing of teeth- did nothing for her. Did not turn her on in the slightest. Her role was relatively minor, this was all she had to do to receive freedom, however deep down inside she knew Atra would never give it. Any fool could see that, and any fool who thought otherwise was definitely a fool. To the cloaked woman, throwing her essence away. Making rude comments that her power surpassed Atraâs? A growl escaped Lammashtaâs throat, one easily mistaken for an alteration in the course of wind or hidden beasts in the undergrowth of hawthorn and bramble. âFoolish beast!â she muttered to herself. That one would suffer well in the jaws of obsidian horror, to be drained of all her powers and mana, left with nothing but the misery of broken shell.
The idea of the high and mighty being crushed as she watched did strange things to her insides, how they turned and churned in the pit of her stomach waiting with great anticipation. She enjoyed watching creatures cringe in agony at the hands of a ravishing female and she had seen the great goddess in all her brazen glory. Truly stunning to behold, a beauty not even darkness could compare with. Not in all her travels and discoveries. Creeping along the ground, a serpent of a shadow between the legs of the servants, and the two fairies. She knew which one of the servants was the weakest link, the one prancing and dancing around naked speaking things she did not understand. The shadow wrapping around her neck only to whisper in her ear âFollow me, and I shall bring you immortality. To the dark temple on the peak of darkness. Go there now, and let no man or beast delay your destiny, daughter of the goddess. Daughter of the moon and darkness.â
Lammashta knew this would appeal most to the little slave girl, promised glory and to be embraced against the bosom of a goddess. To be seen as a daughter, not a sacrifice. Even if it was all in her own head and nothing was truly there whispering it to her. Continuing the delusion and illusion only to achieve her goal for her own needs.[/align:4f92b8485a]
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Swirling on the midnights breeze, powers and potencies undefined, subtle hints of darkest cravings lurking, waiting calling to any they could touch. A flush spreading over the visage of Mallebron for the accusations so callously flung held merit, but did he dare reveal the weakness, the curse fallen upon his kind. If the gates were closing to his kind, if they found themselves trapped in places outside the influence of the courts, the court itself would be weakened and eventually fall away to nothing. A bitter memory, the wails of loss the only thing to remain of what once had been. To fall so far, from grace to dust, from joy to loss so complete was what Mallebron did fight and even though he never in normal times would consider so badly using those of mortal kin, when it came to the survival of the Fae or the lives of two humans, the Fae would evermore be placed first.
Knowing that time was precious, knowing that this creature of the dark and twisted Unseelie would happily roast his heart slowly over a flame while he still lived, and knowing that she would see the two slaves dead without a second glane, he thought long and hard before he answered. His eyes, the betrayal of his nature, narrowed, his demeanour a tense rigidity as fists clenched and unclenched in frustration, wanting to strike out yet remembering the words echoed so long before in the vaults of his mind that time may come when the unseelie could well be the salvation. Opening his mouth he would speak, his voice low and deep for he had decided to do the unthinkable, to tell this wretch from the shadows of his kind the truth.
"To the shame of my kind, you are in part right, for normally to consider giving the lives of a mortal is not in my ken, but the balance fails, and the court will fall. You know of the balance, that although we stand apart you and I, we are a part of the whole and we stand or we fall. If Seelie fails, so do your kind and the same applies in return." At this he paused taking a slow breath, "This changing of the ways, this breaking of the ties binding the worlds together tips the balance, and I do as I must to maintain my kind... Even these" he gestured towards the slaves "Are nothing compared to the survival of my kind... and for that matter yours. Up in those hills, is a place reeking with dark power, a place where you yourself could feel at home" with this he sneered "but it is not a power I can use, not a potence that I can meld into use to return, but the place smells of strength and without strength naught can be done for our kind."
As he had spoken he studied the unseelie creature before him, weighing whether to convince her to his side or attempt to fight her, deciding that perhaps the first option although unappealing gave all things a better outcome. "Why don't you come with us, then if nothing else you can spread word midst your brethren how you witnessed the fall of the mighty to such dismal failure, or perhaps... in the dark potence you may discover some amusement suiting your nature." He blinked as she spoke of one of those with him using some potence of her own in spite of the unseelie presence, Turning his eyes, now chilled upon the slaves, exerting the force of will that had kept him alive for so many centuries, "Cease your playing slaves... Dabble not in the arts of the unseen when in such company for your actions are watched and twist your purpose... Be still" at which his gaze turned back to the unseelie woman, "Do you have a name little dark one?"
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Things were confusing enough, Andarta just watched in dismay thoughts, unsure of what was going to become of her and the other. All she could guess what that it would be better than being where they were, despite the dark cloud hanging over her head. She was becoming anxious and just wanted to get where they were going and not stand around talking in the night, well the talk between the two. Huddling against the tree trunk as she watched whatever the dancing slave was doing only wanting to ask but thinking it better to stay quiet, and wonder to herself. In Andartaâs thoughts this was anything but a friendly situation and the talk between the strange woman and man only made her more uneasy and restless. Eagerly standing as the man turned to make a move to walk again. âFinallyâ Andarta thought to herself trying to keep some warmth in her body since clothing was minimal.
Regret seeming to float past her, in a daze and Andarta had to shake her head to stop herself from laughing at the airy fairy nature of a mysterious girl. The markings and tattoos on Regrets body caused an interest in her, not knowing what they meant. Were they the markings of her tribe and homeland? Andarta did not have any markings of interest and except for her beauty there was not much depth to her. She had no education other than skills needed in life, to do her job as a slave. Cook, clean and please the master she had, any and every master claiming her. At times she wondered if there was anything else in life other than this, being a servant to sick whims. Sometimes she would imagine what it was like to have servants of her own tending to her for a change, to kiss her feet and feed her grapes. Didnât she deserve that kind of treatment? Probably not other wise she would have it and not made to grovel in the dirt.
Walking past the weird looking woman and in front of the man who had bought them. The woman gave her the creeps and if Regret wasnât too busy being a space case she would see what she saw, something dark and evil. If she wasnât evil she would not have killed those slavers back at the auction and in the distance as Andarta turned back to look at that direction, all she saw was a glow of fire lighting the night. Did they kill all those innocent people wanting their freedom? A rage built up inside of her, turning back and grabbing at the manâs shoulder while yelling at him and pointing back towards the slave auction. âWHAT HAVE YOU DONE?â Andarta had good friends there, some of the only people who ever spoke to her like as a living person not some animal from a sty. Head snapping towards the woman, eyes squinting in the anger she felt âMURDERER!!â lips twisting in hatred. How could they do that, children only wanting their mothers and mothers only wanting their children. âPigs!â spoken loud as she spat at the ground showing the insult she intended.
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[align=justify:0a27f8fae1]It was enough to entertain her just to tag along and see this dark goddess for herself. Sticking her nose and bluntly snorting ignoring the words of Mallebron and pushing past him. âWell then child of the shining light let us go see this goddess of yours.â words bitter and sarcastic without attempting to hide them. It was not Lady Rats composure to act all polite when she was not, everything but polite and if anything usually nasty in all ways of etiquette. Hands swatting away at the foliage, walking swiftly in the direction where Mallebron pointed. The direction of this temple. Even Lady Rat knew that was in the direction of Eden since having already discovered her bearings when entering this world, the humans were so predictable in their cities and kingdoms. The darkness drew a thick blanket around her subtle minute curves.
Willowy in build, tall and if anything perhaps too skinny beneath the dress and cloak of black secrets. White and yellow eyes peering from the hood with an eerie glow like two moons shining in an alien sky, white strands of hair flagging out in streams of ghostly ash. Fair complexion to that of spectral shades and the bad dreams of children. Stories of her had put many children scared in their beds while the skeleton arm of branch scraped against the window glass. Lady Rat loved to torment children, it was through their fear that she existed in this world. If they did not fear her, she would be thrown back to the dark glow of her lands and not able to enjoy the simple delight of frightening children to their cold deaths. The soul of a child was sweet to imprison in crystals and other objects, they gave the fey a power none can describe or imagine.
Moving quicker, not even caring to see if the female slaves were following, she knew enough of the snapping of twigs and faint whispers that they were not too far behind. Humans were such clumsy beasts. Trudging through the forest like elephants heavy on their toes. Did they silly creatures not know how to be quiet? It amazed her they actually made adequate hunters but she knew not one of them would last in the Wild Hunt. Walking was such a human pain to laden herself with, both of them could have been there in the blink of an eye had it not been for the two offerings. It amused Lady Rat what was so special about these two that a goddess would want? Mallebron probably grabbed the two closest women and hoped for the best. To her they were beyond adequate and she would have happily killed them and then turned on Mallebron if SHE were this unholy dark goddess of all darkness.
It was probably some glorified witch pretending to be a goddess using her spells of illusions and trickery. It had been done before by some of the greatest witches of all time only to no longer be. A mortalâs fatal mistake was to pretend to be a higher power subject to the elements they ruled and controlled. Then it dawned on Lady Rat that she had not asked for the goddessesâ name. Speaking loudly, though despite how much louder she spoke her voice did not echo. âSo what is the name of this Dark Goddess, Mallebron?â again Lady Rat could not help but scoff at the gesture Mallebron was actually going to murder these girls in order to seek a wish. That was the real reason she journeyed with them, to see him knocked flat on his ass when he saw his idol of worship was some foul hag muttering over a cauldron of broiling frogs and lizards.
âWhat makes you think a goddess would want those two dregs? Probably been fished out by every slaver whose owned them. I smell no purity just foul rot!â Sniffing at the air only to block her nose between fingers in a pegged grasp. Still pressing forth through thick dense forest that parted in her presence, shriveling away from her foul presence and wicked aura, the ground leaving frozen iced steps behind her. She could turn this entire land into ice and not think twice about it.[/align:0a27f8fae1]
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Regret had no idea that what was waiting for her would be a painfully dark death, that the Dark Goddess was hungry for her blood and soul not just her dedication. In the silky streams of moonlight, her naked flesh marked with occultic tattooâs glimmered in the spangled brilliance of light and shadow. How the shadows moved over her legs like snakes wrapping around them to find the holiest of burrows. As the dark cloaked woman moved forth and then they all followed behind Regret felt more as if she were floating on the clouds. That had something had been slipped into her blood causing this heightening of all the senses around her. Dancing to no music only the sound of the night and the breaking of branches beneath light footed step. Legs moving quickly beneath her, dancing around Mallebron while offering a candied smile and happy laughter. The sound chittering to the sound of silver bells ringing in her mind, lulling her into the phase of complete oblivion.
No matter how far they walked it was only seconds to Regret, too far captivated by the soft words spoken in her mind. An invisible hand grasping her around the wrist to lead her into that darkness only to find the tender assault of lips tasting hers. A tongue licked over the area where she felt the sensation while her entire body reacted to the sensual caress shifting from lips to the tip of her breast in moist spirals. Eyes closing, lips pursing while behind a massive trunk she came to rest, her back arched over the timber trying to catch her breath. The others were back a ways, still coming through the forest. She did not understand what feeling was awash over her body, was it the dark goddess herself or perhaps some demons seeking a wanton woman to pleasure. At the point of experience, Regret was far from caring as hands brushed over all the areas that were kissed. Silent moans trailing into the night as she found the will to push away from the tree only to be pushed back hard by an unseen force.
Her voice gasped, an invisible hand around her throat while her hands fought with the darkness to push it away and run back through the forest. She wanted to scream but no sound was made just a gurgle. Lips managing to speak a protective mantra, the grasp let go and she ran back. Twigs and branches ripping at the skin on her legs, catching her hair and pulling it out from the roots. Fear in her eyes for she could not explain what force had her pinned so strongly that she could not fight back. Glad to see the others, chest panting out of breath as she struggled to find the words âDemons in the darknessâ. Her words stuttered, barely able to be understood for they were the first words she had spoken since a child. A vow of silence broken but the events deep in the forest were a warning that everything was not what it seemed and it was only just the beginning.
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They were moving again and that was a good thing, the unseelie witch had delayed her plans of chaotic play instead choosing to move with them and bide her time. Such was the way of their chaotic brethren, still they were moving. A hand grabbing his shoulder, Mallebron spinning on his heel to face Andarta as she made her accusation. Voice dripping nights chill he responded, "Murderer slave... You call me murderer... Know this I had nought to do with any death, that was the doing of she that chose to join us, actually I just saved your miserable lives, now lets shut your mouth and keep moving".
As he turned away he gestured and illusion of Andarta's mouth sealing shut, he didnt have time for this waffle, slaves who didn't know their plave, unseelie wenches playing their games. He had helped slaves in the past, but in the current circumstance it was needed to play hard and harsh, no weakness could be shown to an unseelie, for that was all they needed to play their devlishness. Between one step and the next, the world shifted, he had begun this day falling through a blood pool into Naethryn, but now... He stopped and sniffed the air, looking to the sky and smirked. How convenient, Eden, yet the paths remained the same and on the outer limits of his senses, he could feel the pulsations of the lake of blood hidden in its cave. The night now held mysteries above what was expected, and he knew beyond doubt that the Goddess whom he sought was somehow involved.
Moving off again, through the trees, the sounds of the mortal slaves steps echoing loudly in his ears, the smirk on his lips breaking into a richly humoured chuckle. "You wish to know her name? How rich... know ye not that to speak the name of such a one thrice draws their attention upon you." A moment of silent contemplation as they continued walking, "A trade then, you already know who I am, but I still desire your name, so I shall give you a name, perhaps that will reach past your hardened carapace and tweak your mind into the gravity of what I seek." Mallebon paused, turning to look his opponent directly in her yellowed eyes, studying a moment before a single whisper left his barely parted lips, "the name spoken is... Atra'Lamia". The weight of the name, heavy and poigniant in the night. Mallebron turning back to the path and gesturing to the slaves to again continue moving, leaving the unseelie to digest her new knowledge and follow if she dared.
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Continued here http://thedarkrealmz.com/forum/viewtopic.php?p=17217#17217
I thought it best we move on from this scene and actually got to where we are going.