IC: Forced Reality

[Andarta the Slave]

[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]

[Regret]

[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]

[Mallebron]

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...

[Andarta the Slave]

[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. “Thank you” She didn’t know what else to say in case the slave guard heard them, gave them both another dealing. Andarta didn’t 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 wasn’t in the way he looked or dressed, there was just something foreboding about him. Something corrupted.

Her guess had been this other girl couldn’t talk, before she actually looked and saw the horror that had befallen her mouth. Was it burnt or sewn up? Andarta couldn’t tell from this distance and didn’t 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 wasn’t 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 didn’t think so. He didn’t 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 didn’t 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. “Hey, if you pay a pretty penny to ensure my freedom… I will make it worth your while” 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]

[Regret]

[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. ”Least you’ll get it up her. Not frigid like the other whores. These two are hot, wet and ready.”

The last of the words drowned out to her, lost in the night.[/align:1b7deec4ca][/size]

[Mallebron]

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.

[StrawberryGashes]

[align=justify:3ec5650f56]With her came the jingling of silver bells and the faintest laugh that could easily be thought of as ‘child’. Lyrics singing out from the shadows, the darkness- all around them that it was no possible to pinpoint an exact location other than ‘legion’. 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 tinklin’ to the sounds of silv’r bells, over dale to the valley below. Come all ye childr’n, 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 didn’t 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 couldn’t 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 Rat’s 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]

[Mallebron]

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."

[StrawberryGashes]

[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]

[Andarta the Slave]

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.

[Regret]

[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]

[Lammashta]

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.

[Mallebron]

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?"

[Andarta the Slave]

She was not sure if she had heard right, “give them to her”. What could that possibly mean? It disturbed Andarta’s 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 wasn’t 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 didn’t 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 ”Whatever it is promising you, do not listen. Please.” Those eyes pleaded with Regret to listen.

"Please!!!"

[Regret]

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.

“Darkness is where we were born and in darkness we shall return” being spoken over and over again until it all became one phrase of dedication and chant, the power of the earth rising through the chakra’s and through the vortex’s 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.