[07:11:58] Crow eturned to his tent with Hecate at his side, the sleen moving with the quiet confidence of an animal that had little interest in wasting energy. He had slept remarkably well at the inn with Neeve, which had done much to improve his disposition. Now, however, he stood before the entrance to his tent with a familiar suspicion settling over his features. The last time he had left his quarters, he had returned to find a bosk comfortably installed in his bed, apparently convinced that an Assassin’s furs were perfectly acceptable lodging. Crow regarded Hecate. “I trust you have better manners than the last guest.” He lifted the flap and gestured for her to enter first, hoping that the sight, scent, or mere presence of a trained sleen might persuade the beast to reconsider its choice of accommodation. He had no particular desire to damage his tent, his belongings, or the intruder, though he was beginning to suspect that the latter might be the most difficult of the three to achieve.
[07:15:57] Hecate followed along after crow, her steps slow and practiced, and her tail slowly swaying behidn herself in a serpentine manner. Fangs bared oh so slightly in warning to all that may get close she was’t a cuddly animal to all but one. And even he she only tolerated for the most part. Well maybe a little more than tolerate. She bumped him lightly with her muzzle as she heard him talk before she herself sniffed the air. Catching the scent of the bosk in the tent she lowered herself down, in a clear predator approach and slunk forwards, foot step after footstep soft and quit as she made her presence known with a singular growling hiss. A warning that the sleen was there and not tolerating intruders. Instead of lunging she held there, waiting, watching.
[07:20:42] Crow glanced down at Hecate as her muzzle brushed him, and his hand briefly settled against the side of her neck. The gesture was familiar, almost absent-minded, before his attention returned to the unfolding confrontation. He watched the sleen lower herself and advance, her hiss carrying a warning that would have been unmistakable to anything with sufficient sense to heed it. Crow remained just inside the tent entrance, arms folding across his chest as he waited to see whether the bosk possessed that particular virtue. The bosk had slept even through his warning and seemed to catch up on more when it didn’t seem to be aware of the danger that was lurking.
[07:25:03] Hecate followed along, watching the creature that had gotten into the tent. But alas the bosk had no interest in waking up from her warning. So….closer she got, slinking like a cat hunting a mouse she ranged closer. Then closer. Until her snout nearly touched the bed and then she gave a feral hiss once more. Her tongue flicking as the creature that had invaded her owners hut now continued to rest oh so peacefully despite the stink she created in the air just by being there. Fangs lifted and she stayed there, poised as to try and awaken the creature to a very ill looked fate! No one wanted to wake up to a sleen in their face.
[07:28:39] Crow had barely enough time to straighten from his relaxed stance before the bosk awoke to find a very displeased sleen practically breathing down its nose. He took one look at the sudden commotion, the fangs, and Hecate’s decidedly predatory posture, and closed his eyes for a brief moment as though silently asking the Priest-Kings for patience. “Ah. There it is. The intelligence I had hoped our guest possessed.” He stepped sideways, putting himself clear of the most obvious escape route while keeping a watchful eye on the bed. “Hecate, my girl, I believe you have made your point.” His hand lifted “Good morning. I trust you slept well. You have, unfortunately, overstayed your welcome. Now, I strongly recommend that you leave by the entrance. That is the opening through which you came.”
[07:32:57] Hecate saw the creature awaken itself and growled once again, going to move, much like a herding sleen to which she was not she stalked across to the other side of the bed, and then gave a deep hissing noise that threatened an attack. Should the creature listen she would not chase it, but should it stay put she would make sure it moved. Fangs gnashed just once and paws slammed to each of her sides in a clear threat. Before she waited, seeing what path the bosk would take, her muscles rippling under furred flesh as golden eyes stared to her quarry. A obvious threat to the other. But none of that hostility was turned to her handler.
[07:38:15] Crow watched Hecate reposition herself on the opposite side of the bed, his expression settling into one of quiet appreciation. The sleen had understood the assignment perfectly. No unnecessary attack, no wasted movement; merely a clear demonstration that the bosk’s continued occupation of his sleeping quarters had become a matter of some considerable danger. Crow moved towards the tent entrance and drew the flap wider, offering the animal a clear route to freedom should it possess the good sense to take it. “Excellent work, Hecate,” he stated, his tone carrying genuine approval. “Intimidation without the expense of replacing a perfectly good tent. You are proving yourself considerably more reasonable than our guest.” He would indicate her to come out of the tent also. The corner of his mouth twitched. “I should have charged you rent. At least then your presence might have served some purpose.” He shouted towards the bosk that tried to find its way to a more safer place.
[07:41:36] Hecate reached a paw out to swat at the bosk as it ran loose, barely missing its hind quarters with a paw before she herself followed along as she noticed the flap opening and the bosk running free. She saw the motion of Crow and giving a rumbling noise moved out, her side brushing against him for a mere second as she slunk along the path. Each step slow and cautious before she gave a rumbling growl. And looked to see if the other did make a mess of other tents. Not that they were much concern to a sleen but still she rumbled. Her tail flicking back and forth slightly before she stalked further outwards. Raising her fangs towards the running creature.
[07:50:31] Crow watched the bosk bolt from the tent, his expression remaining remarkably composed for a man whose bed had recently been occupied by livestock. He reached down to run a hand briefly along her flank, acknowledging her with a quiet, approving rumble of his own. “Well done, girl.” He stepped out after her, fastening the tent flap back to keep it from catching in the commotion, then surveyed the camp for any immediate signs of disaster. His gaze tracked the fleeing bosk, then returned to Hecate as she stalked after it, fangs bared and tail flicking. “Leave the other tents intact if you please,” he called after her, amusement threading his voice. “I have quite enough trouble explaining why one bosk considers my bed hers. I would rather not explain why my sleen has declared war on the entire camp.” He began walking after them at an unhurried pace, already resigned to the possibility that his morning would involve considerably more livestock management than assassination. “And here I thought the difficult part of my day would be getting out of bed.” He was pleased to see that Hecate was doing her task wonderfully. The bosk moved towards the gate where the guards opened the gate swiftly to have the animal run into the forest. “What would I have done without you, Hecate.” he murmurs. “Now I need to find some campslaves that can clean my furs and tent. It smells like a stable.”
[07:56:41] Hecate turned her massive head to view Crow, watching him as she stalked after the bosk, running it out before returning back to the side of her handler. Her sides rumbling with discontent at someone or something ruining the peace of what she once knew. Her eyes flitted along as she went to lay down next to his side. The stinky sleen, which was normal state of her brushing the side of her shoulder against his thigh for a moment in a grumpy manner and letting him know she was less than pleased over the bosk situation. However it was what it was and she left it be, the bosk gone left the irritated female settling herself. As Crow talked to her however her head turned to look at him. She could tell he was happy, wither or not that mattered to a sleen was in the air but normally happy meant food later so she accepted it. Her tongue reaching out to run against her paws. Cleaning any dirt off of them.
[08:02:39] Crow looked down as Hecate settled beside him, her shoulder brushing his thigh in a final, grumbling complaint about the morning’s disturbance. He regarded her for a moment, then crouched beside the great sleen, scratching behind one ear with the familiarity of long practice. “Yes, yes. An outrage. An unforgivable invasion of your territory, and all before breakfast.” There was a rare smile. “I shall ensure the slaves are informed that you have successfully defended the honor of my furs.” He would look down upon her. “I think that will be a good meal today. Some grooming too if you feel for it.” he promised. “And perhaps you can ensure that animals don’t get footing in my tent.” he chuckles.
[03:27:46] Crow stepped onto the docks of Selnar with the unmistakable air of a man who had slept too little and had even less patience to spare. The journey had done little to improve his mood, and the set of his jaw suggested that whoever decided to test it would be doing so at their own risk. His gaze swept across the docks, taking in the vessels, the people, the exits, and the shadows between them. Even tired, the Master Assassin missed little. He carried his weapons as he always did, the familiar weight of steel distributed across his person. Daggers concealed, blade secured, and the means to defend himself close at hand, he made no effort to appear harmless. Nor did he seem particularly interested in attracting attention. He simply moved with the quiet, measured confidence of a man accustomed to assessing danger before danger had the chance to introduce itself.
[03:42:31] Volusian was deep in thought about a bookmark. It was proving harder to get since there was a particular Scribe who wanted to lopp his head off. He was day dreaming about how he might get said bookmark, that he wasn’t paying much attention to all those coming and going, instead his focus was on the water in front of him. The very scarred flesh of the fighting slave’s torso obvious, and all that hung from his belt was a lantern for the tunnels as well as his trip back to his owner’s home, and a coin pouch. Finally, he let out a frustrated sigh and turned to look around the docks taking in all the sights of those around. His eyes eventually falling on that of a man that moved along them and he watched him with interest, the confident gait of the man vaguely familiar but nothing jumping out at him to remember who presently, so for now he watched, silently, trying to blend into the darkness. Which was hard given he was a large Northern thrall that was half naked.
[03:47:39] Crow continued along the docks, his pace unhurried despite the fatigue that weighed upon him. The familiar distribution of steel at his belt offered a reassuring counterweight to his foul mood, though it did little to improve it. His attention to his immediate surroundings as ever careful and watchful as to what needed to be addressed. One of them stood out. A heavily scarred Northern thrall. Not for his lack of clothing, but for the particular stillness with which he watched the world around him. Crow’s gaze passed over the man once, then returned briefly. He had noticed the attention, though he gave no immediate indication of it. Perhaps the fellow was merely curious; perhaps he recognized something in the way Crow carried himself. Either way, there was no reason to make an issue of it just yet. He slowed near enough to offer a measured inclination of his head, his expression giving little away. “Tal,” he greeted “You look as though the water has disappointed you. Or is there something more interesting on these docks that I have yet to discover?”
[03:58:09] Volusian brow lifted some as the man’s attention soon came to fall on Volusian, and the Northern thrall grew slightly concerned when he slowed by enough to stop to talk to him. When he replied, his voice was hoarse, with that thick Northern accent, the bruising around his neck now fading but it was clear at some recent point he had certainly been strangled well. “Tal Master”, he said, then glanced back to the fountain behind him, and then towards the man himself, a slight tilt of his head that he’d noticed the way he’d been looking at him. “Not the water Master. Just.. acquiring something that should be easy if I were a Free man, but is much harder than it should be”. All for the sake of a bookmark. His gaze fell on the emblem on the shoulder of the man, and he studied it noting the gold dagger. He was convinced this man was likely a Killer purely on that, but there was nothing else to indicate that he was other than his dark attire. He glanced in the directions of the tunnels. “Do you require a light to the tunnels Master?”, he asked him, assuming that he had some sort of shady business dealing with all those that were associated with the tunnels. For a moment he went quiet and then he stepped closer, like he was trying to get a better look of the man, “Forgive me Master, you are familiar to me. But I am not sure why”. Volusian was polite, and he spoke in a way that indicated he had been a slave for a long time in the South, it was likely why he wore gold necklaces around his neck and not heavy chains.
[04:04:06] Crow ‘s gaze settled on the Northern as he spoke, taking in the fading bruises around his throat without allowing his expression to change. Whatever had caused them was not his concern unless the man chose to make it so. The mention of the tunnels drew a faint, almost amused lift at the corner of his mouth. “I can find my own way through the dark, but I appreciate the offer.” His tone was dry, touched by the fatigue that had followed him all the way to Selnar. He hoped the smell of the livestock hadn´t traveled with him. At the man’s admission that he seemed familiar, Crow studied him more closely. “Perhaps we have crossed paths before,” he allowed, making no effort to confirm or deny the possibility. “Though I confess, I have had a long journey and little sleep. My memory is not at its most charitable tonight.” His eyes that had seen his share of murder flicked briefly towards the water before returning to Volusian. “As for this thing you seek, is it worth the trouble it seems to be causing you? You have the look of a man who has been denied something rather trivial with rather considerable enthusiasm.”
[04:13:30] Volusian couldn’t place the man presently, nor was he likely going to guess in a hurry. Ever since Rilyn had smashed his head into the ground, there had been a number of things he had forgotten, or blanks in his memory. And it seemed that this man was also not about to recall if Volusian was familiar to him. The thrall had lived in many lands, so the chances of crossing paths were likely high but he did notice the amused look the man had about the tunnels. And Volusian was relieved he didn’t need a light to go there, since that was where he had been strangled. “I won’t tell you to be careful Master”, his gaze looked over the man’s weapons, “You look like you can handle yourself”, he grinned before he considered his question. “If I acquire it, I think it will make my friend very happy. He reads a lot, and he does not appreciate the turned corners of a page to be done on a book”. Apparently that had been a crime Volusian had committed, not that the thrall had been reading, he’d just been trying to help the other thrall not lose his place in the book! “I offended tens of generations of Scribes by trying to seek one at the Hall”, he said with a slightly amused look on his face. He did however now have tasks to do, just to get the bookmark.
[04:19:54] Crow llistened to the explanation, a faint smirk settling upon his features at the thought of an entire Hall of Scribes taking offense over a turned page. “Tens of generations? That is quite an achievement for a man seeking a simple bookmark.” His tone carried a dry amusement, though he made no judgment on the matter. There were certainly worse crimes than attempting to preserve a friend’s place in a book. His fingers briefly touched the purple ribbon he wore, drawing it free with a measured motion. For a moment, his eyes rested upon the length of fabric, and something unreadable passed across his features. Whatever memory it carried had served its purpose. He no longer needed to keep it. He held the ribbon out towards Volusian. “Perhaps this will save you from a second war with the Scribes.” A slight tilt of his head accompanied the offering. “It should serve well enough between the pages, provided your friend does not consider purple an offense against literature as well.” The story of the ribbon slowly fading as he had found a new spring in his winter.
[04:29:41] Volusian tried not to laugh at the smirk the man gave him regarding the tens of generations and he nodded slowly. “So much so, that I soon found a blade at my throat over the question”, he said. It had happened rather quickly, and Volusian was normally not afraid of men, since most tended to ignore his existence but this particular Scribe had wanted to remove his head in an instant. “And the woman who has said she will help, well.. I have just found out she is his Companion”, so now he was concerned he was about to risk not only his life, but her neck. He watched the way the man’s hand moved to the ribbon on his wrist and he furrowed his brow, trying to understand it’s meaning. Something that was meaningful, he could see that. But what? He was unsure about. And then suddenly Crow was handing it over towards him, and his jaw almost dropped open, taken back at the fact a Free was actually trying to help him without wanting something in return. “……”. He was speechless, for quite sometime as he stared at the offering of the ribbon and then he moved to where Crow was, dropping to one knee to take it from the man. “My thanks Master”, he said quietly, “I suspect he will not be offended on the color, just over the fact I asked at the Scribes like it was a market”, he mused. He imagined John was going to scold him a great deal over that. “Will you tell me the story of it, it will mean a lot”.
[04:36:49] Crow watched the large Northern kneel to accept the ribbon, his expression settling into its usual composure. He made no comment on the gesture, though a slight inclination of his head acknowledged the thanks. “Then perhaps you have learned something useful from the experience. A Hall of Scribes is not a market, and a Scribe is rarely improved by being treated as a merchant.” The faintest trace of amusement returned to his gaze. “Though I will concede that threatening to remove a man’s head over a bookmark seems a rather excessive defense of literature.” At the question, his gaze lowered briefly to the ribbon now in Volusian’s possession. For a moment, the humor faded, replaced by a quiet stillness. “It belonged to a memory I once considered worth keeping close,” he answered at last, his voice even, without bitterness. “A reminder of someone, and of a time when that reminder mattered.” He looked back to the slave. “But memories are not always meant to be carried forever. Sometimes they have served their purpose, and keeping them becomes habit rather than need.” A small shrug followed “The ribbon was once a gift. Perhaps now it can mean something to your friend instead.” His mouth curved faintly. “Try not to get yourself beheaded before you deliver it. Although I thought true scribes never carried steel, as their pencils were sharp enough. But still, I would hate for my contribution to the preservation of literature to end in another dispute with the Scribes.”
[04:50:39] Volusian grinned a little as he heard Crow and he considered what he said, “I think I learned a lot, very quickly Master”, he mused, though he was fearful of the Scribe and likely would do all he could to avoid the man in future. “I will make sure to not treat the Scribes Hall as a Merchants shop, I just thought they’d have book marks lying about…”, he said with a sheepish glance to the man. Sometimes he was certainly a large himbo about things. He listened as Crow spoke on the memory and he could see that memory was something that was close to the man’s heart. “It is the worlds greatest tragedy, Master. Souls who are not remembered”, his fingers wrapping about the ribbon as he looked at it within his large, calloused hand. “I think he will genuinely treasure it Master. He is.. “, he paused, unsure how to explain the Slave that was very much a scholar. “Intelligent?”. Nope that didn’t sound right. He snorted softly about the Scribe and the steel he drew, nodding in agreement. “I thought the same Master. It was very unexpected”, he said quietly. “And the man.. he is bigger than me”, which added to the theatrics of it all. “Thank you again Master. If you ever need something while you are here in Port, you are welcome to send for me. I am the Captain’s First thrall, Volusian. You can usually find me around the barracks in the City”. He paused, “And watch the bakery. I and some others were recently drugged with food that was laced with kanda”, he added, still sore over that whole incident.
[05:01:14] Crow listened without interruption. It was one of the things he learned early on. To truly hear what was said and shared. The corner of his mouth lifting at the explanation. “A reasonable assumption.” His gaze held a quiet glint of amusement. At the mention of the bakery, the humor faded. He regarded the thrall more attentively, filing the warning away. “Kanda in food served to unsuspecting people? That is not a prank, nor an inconvenience.” His voice remained void of anger, but there was a colder precision beneath it now. “Do you know whether anyone discovered who was responsible, or whether the bakery itself was merely the means? I appreciate the warning. I have little interest in surrendering my judgment to whatever happens to be in my muffins.” He adjusted the weapons at his belt, then looked back to Volusian. “If I need to find you, I shall ask for the Captain’s First Thrall. And if your friend treasures the ribbon, then it has found a better use than hanging from my wrist.” A faint, dry smile returned. “Now go deliver your peace offering before the Scribes decide that the next suitable bookmark is your tongue.”
[05:08:51] Renee: pardon me Sir, do you have a moment to spare?
[05:12:36] Volusian still could not think how he might know the man, his memory failing him completely in the night. Perhaps over night with some deep thought, or a discussion with John might help. He tended to ask the right questions that triggered Volusian’s memories. “I was very unsuspecting, as were the other slaves and a Free woman of High Caste”, he said quietly, “The investigation is still pending but the Bakery owner was arrested. Apparently a misunderstanding…”, he said, entirely unconvinced that was the case. He paused, then glanced in the direction of the tunnels, as he considered Idris for a moment. “There is a new Kanda den in the tunnels. The Taharian man that owns it, he grew angry when he found his friend.. the baker was arrested”, a gesture to his own throat. “I would not be surprised if he has something to do with it”, his voice was low, and said in a voice so that only Crow might hear. He nodded to the man when he dismissed him, and he smiled as he tightened his grip around the ribbon. “Thank you Master, I am sure it will have”, he said to him as he pushed up to his full height then paled slightly at what the man said. “I hope not Master, but he certainly seemed the type that would do that”, a sheepish smile offered. “Safe paths”, he said dipping his head towards him, pausing only briefly before he’d go on his way.
[05:17:56] Crow glanced to the woman as she approached but watched her leave as quickly as she had come. He let her without giving her much thought. His attention lingered on Volusian a moment longer than courtesy required. A Captain’s First thrall, well placed within the city, willing to speak quietly about things others might overlook. There was value in that, particularly in a port where poison found its way into food and suspicion seemed to travel faster than truth. “I shall remember you. A man who notices things and is willing to speak of them can be useful company.” His tone remained casual, offering neither promise nor undue praise. “Perhaps our paths will cross again.” He had begun to turn when a final thought caught him. He glanced back, one brow lifting faintly. “One thing before you go. You mentioned the Scribe who threatened you, but I don’t believe you gave me his name.” His expression settled into mild curiosity, though the question was deliberate. “I would prefer to know whose blade I should avoid or whose temper I should take into account if I find myself near the Hall of Scribes.” A dry hint of amusement returned. “I have quite enough people trying to ..”he would let the sentence die there.
[05:32:50] Volusian would probably be strung up for talking to a Killer about such things, or talk to anyone about things, given the investigation was still open. But Volusian just knew that he knew this man, it was only a matter of figuring out how he had. Plus, Killers were rich. And even if the Captain did not accept the gold he had already earned from one, he could always make his own stash of coins, ready for the day he became a free man. Again. Maybe for the third time if he was lucky. He was well aware how Killers were in regards to their food and drink, his time in Ayr and being rented in the Tavern had been more the interesting and he’d become friends with many of the men’s girls. “I did not Master, you are right. He goes by the name of Marcus Macrinus Varro, his companion is called Proxima, of the Scribes. I believe he has a thirst for status and recognition”, he mused, recalling the words his own sister and companion had said. “He recently summoned his sister to join him as well, Aurelia”, he said, giving the man a little more information. He paused as the man said he had enough people trying to kill him and he chuckled a little, “Ah yes Master. I would hate to see the same fate of you, as the musician.. he lost his voice”, his words just a whisper for only Crow’s ears as he spoke.
[05:41:51] Crow ‘s expression remained largely unchanged as Volusian supplied the names, though each was quietly committed to memory. Names were useful; the connections between them, more so. A man hungry for status and recognition could be predictable, but he had lived long enough to know that ambition alone proved little. He would prefer to observe the man himself before drawing conclusions. “You have a generous memory for names. Or perhaps you have learned that remembering them is safer than forgetting them.” The faint curve at the corner of his mouth suggested he was not entirely serious. “I shall keep them in mind.” The whispered warning about the musician earned a more thoughtful look. Crow’s eyes narrowed slightly with the interest as he was handed another piece of a puzzle. He whispered soft enough so no other would hear “He lost his voice?” he repeated softly. “I appreciate the warning.” His gaze held Volusian’s for a moment as if he was about to speak of the past. With a slight inclination of his head, he finally let the thrall depart, while the names and the warning settled into the quiet corners of his mind.
[05:42:10] Sabrina limped along, her cane tapping on the stone as she continued to get to know the city better, her new digs. she was in a world of her own really in that moment. That was, until the visage of Crow sent her crashing back to reality. She froze momentarily before she pretended to look up to the sky, as if attempting to gauge the time of day and abruptly did an about face, looking like she’d suddenly remembered something she had forgotten to do…
[05:49:30] Volusian scratched at the whiskers on his face and a brief curl of the corners of his lips might be seen. “I have learned that learning them is safer than forgetting. It is a shame about faces though, that however indicates that one did not harm a certain Northern thrall”, he said. However if Crow had mentioned Pretty or Rasanah, that might have been an entirely different conversation. He nodded to him, “Lost.. sliced.. quite a story”, he said, a twinkle in his eyes. However the movement of the woman nearby, had him look quickly over, and he glanced towards the man and locked his eyes with his. It was in that, there was something that flashed in his memory. An Island, long ago, a place of many dark cloaked men and his brow lifted, nothing was said, only a “You have company Master”, before he turned and headed away, back to see which slave girl he could finish tormenting.
[02:31:42] Crow entered his tent, already looking forward to the few hours of quiet that passed for sleep in the life of a Killer. He had barely begun to loosen the fastenings of his tunic when something caught his attention. A smell. An unmistakable, rather unpleasant smell that had no business lingering quite so strongly within his quarters. His brows drew together as he paused, taking a moment to locate its source. It led him towards his bed. Crow stood beside the furs, peering down into the darkness. The scent of animals had apparently decided to invade his tent along with whatever else had found its way inside. He had been alone for long enough that the possibility of company beneath his bedding was not the first explanation that came to mind. Then he felt something warm beneath the furs. Which one of the camp slaves had decided that crawling into a Killer’s bed without permission was a sensible way to spend the night? He reached towards the edge of the furs, lifting them just enough to investigate, his voice low and dangerously calm. “Whoever you are, I suggest you have a very good explanation for being in my bed.”
[02:36:30] Crow hears the heavy breathing, yet it did little to ease the unease settling over him. Quite the opposite. Every instinct told him that something was amiss. He abandoned the furs and turned towards the place where his weapons were, moving without haste but with deliberate care. Sleep could wait. Steel, at least, offered more reliable company. There was no answer to his earlier warning. Whoever occupied his bed seemed entirely uninterested in waking, let alone explaining their presence. Crow’s fingers settled around the familiar grip of a dagger as his gaze returned to the dark shape beneath the furs. He did not draw the blade just yet. Instead, he listened, measuring the rhythm of that breathing, searching for anything that might reveal what had invaded his quarters. A slave with poor judgment was one possibility. Something far less ordinary was another. “Wonderful,” he murmured dryly. “Either someone has mistaken my tent for an inn, or I am about to discover why the animals smell worse than usual.”
[02:43:50] Crow retrieved a candle from his desk and lit it, allowing the small flame to push back the darkness as he approached his bed once more. Only now did the light reveal that the shape beneath his furs was decidedly not human. Crow paused, holding the candle a little higher. The smell was unmistakable now. Livestock. The very same livestock that had been barging into the Port in such numbers lately. His gaze narrowed as he studied the still form beneath the bedding. Had one of the beasts somehow wandered into his tent? And, more importantly, how had it managed to get under his furs and into his bed? “Of all the places in this Port,” he muttered, the disbelief in his voice. “You chose my bed.” He held the candle steady, keeping a cautious distance while trying to determine precisely what sort of unexpected guest had taken possession of his furs. Before he attempted to remove it, he would very much like to know whether it had horns, hooves, or perhaps was th larl he had been hearing others about.
[02:48:23] Crow stared at the creature in his bed, the candlelight finally revealing the full extent of his misfortune. A bosk. An actual, living bosk, sound asleep beneath his furs as though it had paid for the privilege. For several long moments, he said nothing. Centuries of training had taught him patience, restraint, and the ability to face death without so much as a raised eyebrow. Apparently, none of it had prepared him for livestock claiming his bed. He slowly lowered the candle, then raised it again, as if a second look might somehow produce a more reasonable explanation. It did not. The beast continued to breathe heavily, utterly unconcerned with the fact that it had invaded the quarters of a man who made a profession of dealing with unwanted visitors. “Of course,” he murmured at last, his voice dangerously mild. “The Port is overflowing with bosks, and naturally, one has decided to sleep with the Black Caste.” He glanced towards the tent entrance, then back at the sleeping animal.
[02:53:30] Crow glanced towards the tent entrance, then back at the sleeping animal. His eyes narrowed as a new and deeply unwelcome thought occurred to him. If the beast had found its way inside, there were a few guards that would pay for it. He didn´t take it light when those that have no business here could get within the camp. He set the candle one one of the trunks that were in his sleeping quarters and folded his arms. First he would study the sleeping intruder with the cold calculation he usually reserved for troublesome clients and candidates. “Let me make one thing perfectly clear,” he told the unconscious bosk. “You have offered no payment, presented no contract, and I have absolutely no interest in your herd’s political disputes.” The bosk snorted in its sleep and settled more comfortably into the furs. Crow stared at it. “Remarkable. My first client who refuses to negotiate, ignores my authority, and has the audacity to snore in my bed.” He exhaled slowly, then reached for his tunic again. “Tomorrow,” he decided, “I am finding out who is responsible for this livestock disaster. Tonight, it seems, I shall be the only Assassin in the Port without a bed.” A pause followed as he looked at the bosk once more. “And if anyone asks, I was clearly no match for a very large, very hairy professional.”
[04:27:45] Crow stood at the firepit. His eyes drifted to the candidate. There was something in his gaze that was already a warning. “Some candidates remember me very well … by the blisters upon their hands. Their obsession with fire. He would put some logs into place and lit up the fireplace. “You failed to do as you were told. That …” he held pause. “That will be met with consequences.”
[04:32:40] Dust had only just woken after a lengthy night collecting people’s belongings from the boat and moving almost every bit of furniture around someone’s house 4 times before they were happy with the arrangement. He had slept in the Inn for maybe 5 hours before he had remembered about the fire and was about to sort it…. but then Crow was already there. He made no excuse. No defiance. He just stood. “I will take whatever punishment you have Sir.”
[05:08:58] Crow had the habit to find that one small moment of being late, not tending to the fire. Even his own son had taken it heavy for everytime he had forgot or was too late for adding a log. He would approach slow. As if there was no real sense of direction. It was like this snake, slithering with no real threat in mind and yet at the very moment in which he perhaps became uncomfortable close, his fist seemed to have come out of no where with the intent to strike the man hard across the jaw. If he was able to hit him (below 33 = failed between 34 = 66 = hit but will stand 67 to 100 = hard ) it would hopefully bring his point across. “This is your warning … this fire is your life … you protect it … if it dies you might die too.”
[05:18:32] Dust had caught the movement a moment too late, The punch hit hard against his face and he took a step backwards. his instinct was to fight back. To defend himself. His right hand balled into a fist. Though that in itself was a shock to the wayfayer. He was used to seeing punches coming. Used to feet trying to slice his feet from below him. This… was something else. His fist came around towards the man without even a thought – forgetting for a moment that he was meant to be impressing the man. Right at the last moment it was like…. a touch rather than a fist. “Understood.” a simple word – a look that crossed the man’s face with the etch of a man that still had anger boiling inside.
[05:24:42] Crow barely moved after the fist stopped short of his face. His eyes remained fixed on Dust, taking in the clenched hand, the tension in his jaw, and the anger the candidate had not quite managed to bury. For several Ihn, he said nothing. Then he gave a small, humorless smile. “There. That was the moment I wanted to see.” He stepped back, allowing Dust room to settle himself rather than pressing the advantage. “Your body reacted before your mind could catch up. You were struck, and every instinct you possess told you to strike back. You nearly did.” His gaze sharpened. “But you stopped. At the last moment, you remembered where you were and why you came here.”Crow tilted his head slightly. “Do not mistake me, Dust. I am not praising you for allowing yourself to be hit. Nor am I asking you to become a man who never fights back. There will be times when hesitation gets you killed, just as there will be times when a drawn fist ruins everything you have spent weeks building. The difference is whether you decide to strike, or whether your anger decides for you.”A faint, dry edge returned to his voice. “And for the record, if you intend to hit me, candidate, I would prefer you do it because you have made a decision not because you forgot yourself halfway through a lesson.” Crow straightened, his expression settling into its usual composure. “Now tell me, Dust. When your fist came around, what made you stop?”
[05:31:27] Dust ‘s eyes flickered to the man for a long moment then back to the fire. The thoughts being processed like he was trying to walk through thick mud. On the boat, he wouldn’t had hesitated. He would have defended himself. Yet there was a small part of the man who he had left a long time ago on the banks of Lara – remembering the words from his father. He quoted them now. “The strike is not the defense you wish. It is the body’s reaction to anger. Know it, feel it, understand that and you will become a better man.” He then looked to the fire “You are right. I forgot myself and the instructions. Whether for a moment or for a long time, it does not matter.” He then placed another log on the fire as it slowly embered
[05:38:39] Crow watched Dust place another log upon the fire, the orange glow catching the hard lines of his face. For a moment, he said nothing. The words the candidate had quoted were not those of a fool. They were the words of a man who had been taught something worth remembering, even if life had buried it beneath years of habit. “Your father sounds like he understood the difference between a reaction and a decision.” Crow stepped closer to the fire, holding his hands behind his back. His gaze settled on the embers, though his attention remained on Dust. “You say you forgot yourself. Perhaps. But you also stopped. That matters.” He glanced toward the candidate. “Do not make the mistake of thinking discipline means never feeling anger. You will feel it. Fear, humiliation, frustration. Sometimes another man will strike you precisely because he wants to see what you do next.” A faint, almost wry smile touched his lips. “Do not make his decision for him by giving him the reaction he came looking for.” He crouched briefly to adjust a shifting log, then straightened. “You have spent your life learning how to survive at sea, Dust. Your father’s words suggest he was trying to teach you how to survive yourself.” His emerald eyes met the candidate’s. “That may prove the more difficult lesson.” Crow let the fire crackle between them for a moment before adding, more quietly, “Tell me something. When you stopped that fist, was it because you remembered my instruction… or because, for one moment, you remembered the man your father wanted you to become?”
[05:47:40] Dust again had to think long and hard about the answer. Not because he was choosing the right words to say but because he simply wasn’t sure exactly what the man wanted to hear. There were things he did not know yet – many things. Even after living 50 years in a place that hadn’t aged him much, a gorean man at heart – he still didn’t feel like he was much of that man that his father had wanted him to be. “My father was a man of steel but knew how to use it in the right way. My mother a woman of words. Long, lengthy, with the touch of a woman who cared for their only son.” He said plainly “I remember them daily as a way to try and shape a life I feel very much like is still to be shaped. I have led men into battle, I have discovered many wakes of life – North and South. When my boots hit ground, I go and make my living for a while. Slaver, Merchant, builder of boats. When the sea calls, I return. I believe that my father wanted more for me. More than just a man that does things because he has to but because he supposed to. So I would say the later. On a ship you have no chance to think for yourself. You are lead by a leader. A captain. You fight because you have to – to defend the very boards you live on. This choice today was not because I didn’t want to punch you back, but because – somewhere – the boards are no longer at risk.”
[05:57:00] Crow listened without interrupting, his expression thoughtful as the firelight moved across his features. There was something in Dust’s answer that interested him more than the candidate might have realized. Not the mention of battles, ships, or the many trades he had pursued, but the distinction he had finally begun to make between necessity and choice. “Somewhere, the boards are no longer at risk,” he repeated quietly. He let the words settle before turning his gaze toward the candidate. “That is worth remembering, Dust. On a ship, the threat is often clear. Someone attacks, you defend. Someone gives an order, you act. The survival of the crew may depend on it.” He paused remembering his own life upon the Stormcrow. A contract that had led him to the role of captain, because the men on board felt Crow, or his alter-ego Silas, the better leader. Their mutiny was not anticipated so he had remained Silas the Captain of the Stormcrow. A story he might one day tell at the campfire. “But here, you will encounter men who want you to believe that every insult is an attack, every challenge a threat, and every moment of discomfort something that must be answered.” Crow moved to the other side of the fire, unhurried. “Your father may have wanted you to become a man who does more than what necessity demands. Perhaps that is what you are beginning to discover for yourself.” A faint smile touched his mouth. “You have spent years being many things, Dust. A sailor. A slaver. A merchant. A builder. You know how to take on a role when circumstances require it.” His gaze held the candidate’s. “But who are you when no captain gives the order? When no enemy stands before you? When there is no ship to defend and no immediate danger to justify your actions?” He glanced toward the embers. “That is the man we are trying to find. Not the man your father wanted, nor the man you think we expect. The man who remains when there is no one left to tell him what he must be.” Crow nudged a settling log into place with his boot. “And for what it is worth, Dust, I would rather train a man who can admit he wanted to strike me than one who pretends he felt nothing at all.” A dry glimmer returned to his eyes. “Though next time, I would appreciate it if you kept your fists to yourself until you have decided what they are for.”
[06:08:16] Dust listened to Crow – his every word taken in as he digested it – and then – right at the end – he couldn’t help but let out a low hearty laugh at the man’s words. He watched the fire – the flicker of the flame – the change of the flames direction when the wind blew too hard. He remembered another lesson from his youth. Then he nodded to Crow “One i hope will keep alive once danger has passed – one who will achieve what he came here to achieve yet very much feels out of his depth doing. A life is merely one pathway taken where others remain or others could be taken. A choice between them unclear at the beginning, yet once you start to travel down there is no going back. That is what lead me to your gates, and why I continue.” he said simply “And why my actions were stopped. I wanted to punch you simply because I was angry. That is never a reason.”
[06:15:42] Crow regarded Dust for a moment, and the candidate’s laughter drew the faintest hint of a smile from him. It was good to hear it. Too many men, when confronted with their own shortcomings, chose either anger or silence. Dust, at least, was beginning to recognize the difference between being challenged and being diminished. “Then perhaps you are beginning to understand why you came here.” He turned his attention to the fire, watching the flames catch along the fresh log. “You speak of pathways as though choosing one means surrendering all the others. Perhaps it does. But do not confuse commitment with blindness, Dust. You chose to come through our gates. That choice deserves to be taken seriously, but it does not excuse you from questioning the road beneath your feet. And you are correct. Anger is not a reason to strike. Neither is pride, embarrassment, or the need to prove that another man cannot make you feel small. Unfortunately we are often met with the ego’s of warriors. You will learn there is little love between the Red and Black. There will be times when you must use violence. When that time comes, I expect you to know precisely why you are using it.” A brief pause, then a dry smile. “Preferably before your fist is halfway to my face.”Crow folded his arms, his demeanor settling back into its familiar composure. “You feel out of your depth. Good. That means you have recognized the depth of the water before throwing yourself into it.” He inclined his head slightly. “Now we discover whether you can learn to swim. Keep that thought about your father. Not because you must become the man he wanted you to be, but because you are finally beginning to decide what sort of man you want to be yourself.”
[06:25:47] Dust had never considered that the road that lead him here meant surrendering all others. He had just followed it because he felt like he had to. A desire to be something more than what he was. Being on the sea lead him to different ports and cities and had let him live life’s where there was always something missing. Even here today, he felt like he was drowning under the weight of what he taking on. But the Northern traditions were deep. He would not allow himself to drown. At least not yet. He nodded to Crow now – his eyes more resolved. He himself added another log to the fire processing the whole conversation. It had felt too long that he had remembered the small nuances his father had drilled into him over and over. Too long ago that his Mother had insisted him re-write his letters until they were perfect. But in that time he had learnt a lot about himself and the man he wanted to be – or didn’t want to be. The simple pleasures of a slave on his lap, a drink in his hand, nothing to worry for but the ne meal or the next fight on the open seas. He didn’t miss it – which he thought he would. For the moment it felt right being here. “Aye. The man I want to be myself.” He repeated
[06:43:10] Crow watched Dust add another log to the fire, noting the change in the candidate’s expression. There was still uncertainty there, and no small amount of doubt, but something else had begun to take root beneath it. Resolve, perhaps. Or simply the stubborn Northern refusal to go quietly into deep water. “Good,” he said at last. “Then remember that answer when the work becomes difficult. It is easy to speak of the man you wish to become beside a warm fire. It is considerably harder when you are tired, angry, frightened, or convinced that the men teaching you have lost their minds.” A faint smirk tugged at his mouth. “Which, I assure you, is a conclusion you may reach more than once.” Crow shifted his stance, his gaze settling on the embers. “You have lived enough lives to know what it is to be a sailor, a merchant, a slaver, a builder. You have known the comfort of familiar habits and the freedom of leaving when the sea calls. I won’t pretend those things mean nothing simply because you have come here.” He looked back at Dust, his expression growing more serious. “But you said something worth holding on to. You no longer miss the life you expected to miss. Pay attention to that. Do not dismiss it, and do not assume it means you have already found your answer. You are still learning what this path asks of you.” He gave a small nod toward the fire. “For now, keep it burning. Observe. Listen. Think before you act. And when you make a mistake, do not waste your time pretending you didn’t.” His eyes met Dust’s once more. “You need not become the man your father imagined, candidate. Nor the man I might prefer you to be. Become a man who knows why he makes his choices and is prepared to bear what follows. That will be a better beginning than most ever manage.”
[06:49:45] Dust listened quietly, his gaze shifting between the tents now. A faint chuckle escaped him at the suggestion that he might question his teachers’ sanity. “I think I’ve already reached that conclusion once or twice,” he admitted with a crooked grin. “Though I’m beginning to suspect there’s a method to the madness.” He nudged a stubborn log further into the fire with a stick, considering the Assassin’s words. “My father always knew what he wanted me to become. For a long time, I thought I knew too. But perhaps I’ve spent more of my life trying to prove something to others than deciding what I wanted for myself.” He glanced up at Crow. “I don’t expect this path to be easy. Nor do I expect to get everything right. But I’m still here, and that’s a choice I made myself.” His grin returned briefly. “Though I reserve the right to mutter about your sanity while I’m making it.”
[06:50:15] KeDjA strolls between the tents after returning to camp. A bucket in one hand, the other hanging loosely at her side, she hums as usual. Despite the increasingly changeable weather, her feet remain bare, so she makes hardly any sound… if it weren’t for her humming. With a flourish, she sets the bucket down on one of the tables in the kitchen area and wipes her hand on her kirtle. Then she grabs the kitchen knife lying there and fishes the first object out of the bucket… a fish. It hasn’t been dead long. But it’s dead enough that it’s long since stopped wriggling.
[06:53:42] Crow allowed a quiet, genuine chuckle at Dust’s remark, inclining his head as though conceding the point. “By all means. Mutter away. So long as you learn to do it quietly enough that no one mistakes it for an actual challenge.” His green eyes rested on the candidate a moment longer, the sternness in them tempered by a hint of approval. “You are still here, Dust. Not because someone dragged you through the gate, nor because your father expected it of you. You chose this. Remember that when the days come that you would rather be anywhere else.” He gave a small nod, accepting the end of their conversation without demanding more from the man. “Go tend to what needs tending. Keep your eyes open, your mind sharper than your tongue, and your pride on a shorter leash than your instincts.” As Kedja’s humming drifted through the compound, Crow’s gaze briefly followed her to the kitchen table and the bucket of fish. His expression shifted into faint suspicion. “Though I would advise keeping clear of whatever Kedja is preparing. I have learned that curiosity is useful in our work, but there are limits to how much a man should investigate his own supper.” A dry smile returned as he turned away, leaving Dust with the fire and the thoughts he had earned. His focus upon the bond.
[02:08:36] Crow (melchior.wardell) had been watching. He had seen Arsus give the man a command. He had not intervened. There was no raised voice. No sudden movement. Only the quiet weight of his gaze settling upon the seeker. Crow’s eyes dropped briefly to the man’s feet before returning to his face. “You moved.” He allowed the silence to stretch for a moment, letting the consequence settle before continuing. “You were given one condition. Remain as still as the stones beneath you. You were told precisely what would happen if you failed.” His expression remained unreadable. “Do not explain it. Do not justify it. The reason does not matter.” A slight tilt of his head followed. “Now you have a choice.” Crow gestured once toward the pile of belongings. “Pick them up. Leave.” He would give there a pause. A pause in which a life could flash by. “Or remain where you are and accept that you have failed this particular test. Whether you are permitted another opportunity is not yours to decide.” He stepped back, giving the man no assistance and offering no further words. The test had never been about whether Zavier could endure discomfort. It was whether he could obey when every instinct told him to act.
[02:12:11] Zavier Montgomary (zandarletts) felt his jaw tighten, the answer rising instinctively to his tongue before he held it back. He had obeyed the campmaster, yet here he stood condemned for moving; the frustration showed briefly in his eyes, though his feet remained planted upon the stones. His belongings lay within reach, but he did not look towards them. “I will remain,” he said quietly. “I accept that I have failed your test.” He met Crow’s gaze, swallowing the bitterness of words left unspoken. “Whether I am given another opportunity is yours to decide. I am here to learn.”
[02:16:30] Crow (melchior.wardell) regarded him in silence for several long moments. The admission came without excuses, and that mattered more than the failure itself. Crow had seen the frustration in the man’s eyes, the instinct to defend himself, and then the deliberate choice to swallow it. His gaze remained steady. “Good.” The word came quietly. “Not because you failed. You were supposed to understand that failure would be possible.” He shifted his weight slightly, the leather of his sword belt giving the faintest sound in the stillness. His eyes narrowed slightly. “You now know where the weakness appeared. Not in your legs. In your mind.” Crow’s gaze dropped once toward the man’s belongings before returning to him. He stepped closer, stopping well short of invading the man’s space. His expression remained stern, but there was a subtle difference in it now. Attention. “Do not mistake that for acceptance.” The man would breath him. Perhaps smell the scent of burned wood and leather. His green eyes were like emeralds. Hard and sharp as if they were able to cut the man right there and then.
[02:23:22] Zavier Montgomary (zandarletts) held Crow’s gaze with tired sky-blue eyes, the scent of burned wood and leather reaching him as the man stepped closer. His jaw tightened briefly at the words, though he kept whatever answer stirred behind it firmly contained. Hunger had settled into a persistent ache since the night before; even while gathering wood, he had not stopped to find food, and the few mouthfuls of water taken from the nearby waterfall had done little to sustain him through the hours that followed. Now his throat felt dry, his legs heavy, and remaining still required more deliberate effort than he cared to show. He swallowed carefully, resisting the urge to ease his weight from one foot to the other. “I understand,” he answered, his voice roughened by thirst but quiet enough to carry no challenge. “I will not mistake it.” For a moment, he felt the pull of his belongings nearby and all that leaving would mean, but his eyes stayed upon Crow. He drew a slow breath and remained planted upon the stones, allowing the silence to stand.
[02:30:11] Crow (melchior.wardell) remained still for a moment, studying the man before him. The signs were there now, the dry voice, the controlled breathing, the subtle tension in his legs. Crow had no need to be told what the body was beginning to demand. Yet he had not moved. That was what mattered. Crow’s gaze remained upon him, measuring rather than judging. “Then understand this as well.” His voice was quieter now. “Discipline is not proven when obedience is easy. Anyone can stand still when the body has no reason to move.” Crow glanced briefly toward the man’s belongings, then back to him. “You are hungry. Thirsty. Tired. Your body is asking you for relief, and your mind is looking for reasons to grant it.” He let the silence return for a long time. He was a man of patience. It had been beaten into him. And this man before him would feel the wrath of it clean and fresh. It must be clear by now that granting permission into the training was not an easy won thing. “Some men are considered worthless while they wait. Lower than slaves. As they can be commanded to do anything. Humiliated to the bone. All to test how eager they are …” he shrugged. “And here you are … only to stand still.” There was challenge and mockery in his voice. A slithering snake that hissed in the mans ear to give up and no longer endure the cruelty of those men that wore the black.
[02:36:13] Zavier Montgomary (zandarletts) felt the mockery bite more sharply than the ache in his legs, a brief tightening around his blue eyes betraying that he had heard it plainly. His empty stomach cramped beneath his ribs, and he waited for the worst of it to pass without bending or pressing a hand against it. There was little dignity in standing there while another man described how easily he might be reduced, but reaching for his belongings now would mean abandoning what he had come for. He drew a measured breath through his nose, careful not to turn it into a weary sigh. “It sounds a small thing when you say it,” he admitted, his voice dry and low. “It does not feel small now.” The words cost him a little pride, though he held Crow’s gaze as he spoke them. He wanted water, food, somewhere to sit; each had become difficult to keep from his thoughts. “But I still wish to be here.” With that, he fell quiet again, his feet remaining where they had been placed while he worked through the next stretch of silence.
[02:44:12] Crow (melchior.wardell) studied him for a long moment, the admission drawing neither approval nor ridicule from his expression. “Good.” The answer came quietly. “Then remember this feeling.” Crow’s gaze remained fixed upon him. “You have discovered that something which sounds small can become very large when it is placed between you and what you want.” He drew a breath as if to signify the words further. “That is why the test matters.” Crow let the silence settle again, but this time his voice held less edge. “You are not required to pretend that hunger does not hurt. You are not required to convince me that your legs are not tired.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “You are required to decide what you do with that discomfort.” Crow glanced toward the belongings resting nearby in a very obvious manner. “You already made your choice once.” He looked back to Zavier. “You moved because you feared the consequences of another … ” there was a devious smile playing on his features. “I always wonder … when it will dawn to candidates and seekers … which one they need to fear most.” he let the words hang there.
[02:51:28] Zavier Montgomary (zandarletts): me’s brow furrowed, confusion showing plainly in his tired blue eyes as Crow’s words settled upon him. He had understood the order to stand still, and he had understood the campmaster’s command when it came; what troubled him now was how he was supposed to choose between them. His lips parted, then closed again as he considered whether a question would be taken for another excuse. Hunger gnawed at him through the pause, and he swallowed against the dryness in his throat before speaking. “I do not know,” he admitted quietly, keeping his feet planted. “I fear the unknown. The fear of not knowing. The fear that one day the seas would have turned their swells against me and my crew and left me dead. But those days are then, and this is where I feel I need to be now. This is the unknown for me. Consequences and actions mater – words are taken exactly as they are meant. I fear that my whole knowledge is … worthless here and now and yet I remain willing to be changed. Molded as a new man.”
[02:59:46] Crow (melchior.wardell) listened without interruption, his gaze fixed upon the man as the words came. This time there was no correction waiting at the end of them. No immediate challenge. Only silence. Crow had heard men speak of fear before. Most dressed it in courage until it became difficult to recognize. Zavier did not. He had finally stopped trying to give the answer he thought was expected and instead offered something far more useful. Truth. His eyes moved briefly over the man’s exhausted posture. “You have spent your life learning how to survive what you understood. The sea. Storms. Men. Hunger. Death. And now you have deliberately placed yourself somewhere where those lessons may no longer be enough.” Crow’s expression hardened. He took a slow breath. “I wonder … how were you sure that the man that ordered you to gather wood was a man of any authority?” A faint, almost humorless curve touched his lips. “Surely you wouldn’t just take any mans word for it?” He would draw his dagger slowly. He carried two: chaos and order. ‘Chaos’ flashed briefly in that little light here this deep into the forest. The top moving slow over the mans chest but there where the man could see it. “Would you step back if I were to cut you, I wonder?”
[03:08:00] Zavier Montgomary (zandarletts): /me’s blue eyes dropped to the dagger as it passed before his chest, his breath catching despite himself. His stomach tightened with something sharper than hunger, and for a moment the urge to step away was so strong that he had to think deliberately about keeping his feet where they were. He could not keep that alarm from his face. “I took him for a man who had authority here,” he answered, his dry voice hesitant. “I did not ask him to prove it. I see now that I assumed.” The admission left his brow furrowed; he had acted upon a certainty that no longer seemed certain at all. With the blade so close, it was difficult to gather his thoughts. “If you cut me… I might,” he admitted. “I have experience pain before I even knew it was happening so I know how it feels, and do not like it. However, pain happens whether you prepare or not. I cannot promise you that standing here would stop that.” His gaze returned to Crow’s face, searching it with visible unease. “Am I meant to question a command when I do not know the man’s authority? To ask before I act? I am used to following instructions – the Captain’s command over a ship is final. Whether he has been a captain for 2 minutes or 50 years” He swallowed, leaving his hands at his sides. “I need to understand how to judge that.” [03:10:26] Im Strange is offline.
[03:15:19] Crow (melchior.wardell)’s gaze remained on Zavier, the dagger held steady for another moment before Crow slowly lowered it. There had been no need to cut him. The reaction itself had told him enough. “You are beginning to understand the question.” Crow stepped closer, his voice quiet and deliberate. “On a ship, authority is visible. A captain has a crew. A rank. A vessel beneath his feet. The command structure is known.” His eyes narrowed. “Here, you cannot rely upon a uniform, a title, or the assumption that the loudest voice is the one you obey.” Crow tapped the flat of the dagger lightly against his own palm before returning it to its sheath. “You ask how you judge authority.” He would wait and than stated “First, you observe. Who speaks? Who stands with him? Who obeys him? Who does not? What does the situation tell you before you ever open your mouth?” Crow’s gaze remained unwavering. “Second, you understand that uncertainty does not give you permission to invent certainty. You assumed the man had authority. That assumption moved you.” A faint nod toward the ground where Zavier had failed the test. “You may ask for clarification. You may choose to obey. You may choose not to. But every choice has a consequence.” Crow let the silence return for several heartbeats. “An Assassin cannot afford to act simply because an answer feels comfortable. And neither can you. Unless you take up your belongings and go.” The fact Arsus was campmaster he let unmentioned as there was not yet anything to explain for the ranks of the caste when it came to a seeker.
[03:23:12] Zavier Montgomary (zandarletts) released a shallow breath as the dagger was lowered, though the tension across his chest lingered after it disappeared into its sheath. His eyes returned to Crow’s face, his brow still drawn as he considered the explanation. “This man did tell me he was the campmaster,” he said quietly. “That was why I believed he could command me.” He paused, conscious of how easily that might sound like another attempt to excuse himself. “But I took his word for it. I had nothing beyond that.” His throat worked through a dry swallow while he tried to make sense of the distinction. A title had given him something familiar to grasp in a place where he understood so little, and he had accepted it without considering the order already binding him. He remained upon the stones, the ache in his legs making the silence uncomfortable and he shuffled ever so slightly. “I understand the lesson now.” There was no satisfaction in the admission, only a thoughtful crease between his brows. “I will have to learn to look more carefully—and to ask when I do not know. Now may I move again? And search for something to quench the thirst? Or must I remain here til I learn another valuable lesson or die… from that.”
[03:29:42] Crow (melchior.wardell) studied him for a long moment, the faint movement of his own eyes betraying that he had heard the distinction. The man’s answer was not entirely wrong. He had been given a title, and in a place he did not yet understand, he had relied upon it. But the question now was not about the campmaster. It was about what Zavier did with uncertainty. A faint twitch touched the corner of Crow’s mouth at the final question. “Ah.” Crow’s gaze travelled deliberately from the man’s face, to his bare feet, and back again. “We men of caste hardly act upon what we belief. There is need for certainty.” he allowed this lesson to exist. Crow allowed the silence to stretch for another heartbeat before finally giving a small nod. “Yes. You may move.” His voice remained firm. “Drink. Eat. Sit if your legs require it. You have stood long enough.” he held pause as to see the relief upon th man’s face before adding “Of course … only when you do not want to continue with your wait.” There was a dark gaze one of intensity and perhaps even cruelty. This was better than a punch or a good kick in the nuts. With that he turned and left, leaving the man once again alone with all of his thoughts and questions.
[10:56:08] Crow (melchior.wardell) couldn’t help but to spy Kedja with something strapped to her thigh. Curious perhaps, or was it the strong pull she had upon him that made him approach her. “What is that?”he asks pointing to the dagger. If something rubbed him the wrong way it was a slave wearing weaponry.
[10:58:48] KeDjA (lilli.breda) watches the butterflies fluttering over the flowers as if there were nothing better in the world than being a butterfly. When she hears footsteps and then the voice that goes with them, she turns around. Her first answer to Crow’s question, based on what she’s observed, is “butterflies.” Then she pauses for a moment when she notices his gaze, and her eyes drift down to herself. “Oh… that… a knife, Master,” she replies truthfully… and simply.
[11:03:24] Crow (melchior.wardell)’s eyes remained on the knife for a moment longer before returning to Kedja’s face. There was no anger in his expression, but the stillness in it was enough to make his opinion clear. “A knife, yes.” His gaze dropped briefly toward it again. “You know my view on slaves carrying weapons.” He stepped a little closer, though not threateningly, his voice remaining low and even. “I don’t care whether you intend to use it. I care that you could.” Ther was this pause. “Put it away for now. Then tell me why you have it.” He wasn’t accusing her. He was giving her the opportunity to explain before deciding what, if anything, needed to be done.
[11:07:39] KeDjA (lilli.breda) ‘s eyes follow his movements as he takes a step closer. “I was planning to use it. Otherwise, it would have lost its usefulness, Master.” For a brief moment, something like irritation flashes across her face. After all, she uses knives several times a day. Her right hand points to the flowers beside her. “My master’s orders,” she finally explains. “Flowers for the innkeeper.” As always, she uses no more words than she deems necessary.
[11:11:52] Crow (melchior.wardell)’s gaze followed the gesture toward the flowers, then returned to the knife. For a moment, he said nothing. “So. Your master’s orders.” His eyes settled briefly upon the blade again, his expression thoughtful rather than angry. “That explains its purpose. It doesn’t make me particularly fond of seeing a slave carrying a weapon.” His gaze returned to Kedja. “I’ve seen too many things go wrong when a weapon is within easy reach. Intentions have a habit of changing when circumstances do.” A brief pause, his tone remaining calm. “If you were mine, I would have you leave it behind unless the work specifically required it.” He glanced toward the flowers.“But you’re not mine. So the decision is ultimately your master’s.” A faint lift of his brow. “Just understand why it catches my attention.” He would speak on the matter as his attention was taken by someone approaching. “Ah greetings lady. I trust you are well?”
[11:15:51] KeDjA (lilli.breda) tilts her head slightly as he explains. “Even if I’m not, you should know me better, Master,” she replies quietly in a gentle voice, before her attention is diverted when she notices a movement behind him. Her eyes follow the figure for a moment before she looks back at Crow. “I understand, Master,” she finally says, before he turns around and greets the woman. As usual, she keeps a low profile from this point on and merely bows her head in greeting. Her hands rest on her back, as if to emphasize the words she first addressed to Crow.
[11:20:09] Róisín Russo (roisin.heartsong) would have woke early , and was exploring , and noticed them in the garden and said ” Tal , I am well , I hope the same goes for You ” as She nodded to the girl ” tal girl ” as She looked to the Flowers and smiled ” My Complements to whom ever has been tending These they are Lovely “
[11:24:21] Crow (melchior.wardell) turned his attention toward the killer that approached. Giving him a dip of his head. A respectful gesture to the man he knew well. Than his focus returned to the woman. “Tal. I am well enough.” His gaze briefly moved toward the flowers before returning to Róisín. “Your compliment will be passed to the one tending them.” His eyes shifted momentarily toward Kedja, then back to the woman. The earlier exchange remained quietly filed away in his mind. Kedja’s words had been simple, but there had been something beneath them. He did not press it. Instead, he allowed his attention to settle on the lady, observing her with the same quiet scrutiny he gave everyone who entered Black Ember Port. “Exploring?” he asked, casually enough that it could pass as simple conversation
[11:30:13] KeDjA (lilli.breda) glances to the right as a movement appears out of nowhere. The corners of her mouth twitch briefly before she steps back slightly to put some distance between herself and Crow, then reaches for her left thigh and pulls out the knife. The way she does it probably reveals more than she should. At least to men who use knives regularly themselves. She hums softly, probably barely audibly, as she begins her task, carefully cutting some flowers from their roots just above the ground. In doing so, she mainly selects those that the butterflies tend to visit less frequently.
[11:32:44] Róisín Russo (roisin.heartsong) nodded ” Yes I Love the Waterfalls , good place to go sit and think on Your Problems , and I was looking to see what Plants , and Herbs are Native to this area” as She nodded and smiled ” well they do a wonderful Job with the flowers ” as she noticed the Man she met Yesterday and nodded and said ” Tal , I hope Your day is going well “
[11:34:16] αяѕυѕ (daimos.baarer): Arsus, also known as “The Silent One,” set off for the inn. He hoped to meet Kedja there; after all, she had been tasked with getting some flowers. For that purpose, he had been given a knife. It was a simple knife that could be used to cut flowers, cut meat, and, if necessary, fend off animals. You can definitely do all that with a kitchen knife. He hoped to impress the innkeeper with the flowers; he had once heard, though it had been a very long time ago, that women like flowers. For whatever reason. He spotted Crow, who greeted him with a nod. Arsus nodded back. Twice, just to make sure Crow would notice. He then nodded to the woman, also as a sign of greeting. He raised his hand and motioned with a finger for Kedja to come closer.
[11:39:55] Crow (melchior.wardell)’s attention shifted briefly toward Kedja as the knife appeared. This time, however, he watched the draw rather than the blade itself. The movement was smooth, practiced enough to catch his notice. Interesting. His eyes followed the knife as she carefully selected the flowers, cutting those least visited by the butterflies. That detail earned the faintest lift of his brow. Crow then turned toward Arsus “I see the mission is proceeding successfully.” There was the faintest trace of dry amusement in his voice. His attention returned to Róisín as she spoke of the waterfalls and native herbs. “Then you’ve found one of the better places to start looking. The Port has more useful things growing around it than most people bother to notice.” He himself pondered on the mission of flowers by Arsus. Of course there was still that bet, which if Crow was honest, had not yet given it much effort. Perhaps because there were other matters that occupied his mind. Or perhaps because the woman was far more resisting than most.
[11:45:46] KeDjA (lilli.breda) works quickly and soon has a small bouquet of flowers in her hand that looks as if someone had picked it by the wayside. Nothing over the top, nothing exotic. Probably just the kind Namika would choose herself. She puts the knife away just as quickly as she’d drawn it and now closes the distance between herself and Arsus. “My Master,” she says softly, holding the flowers so he can examine them. She had noticed Crow watching her, but at first it didn’t unsettle her. Her voice is soft so as not to interrupt his conversation with the scribe.
[11:49:52] Róisín Russo (roisin.heartsong) nodded and smiled ” Yes good thing I have good boots , to maneuver around to find stuff , Have You seen My Father Recently , I’ve not in quite some time now ” as Sh saw the girl cutting the flowers , and said ” those will be lovely in aaa vase”
[11:53:37] αяѕυѕ (daimos.baarer): Arsus thought briefly about Crow’s words and wondered which mission he might be referring to. The one with the innkeeper, perhaps. Arsus smiled to himself. If that was it, then he was really going to get things started. Arsus rarely placed bets, and when he did, he intended to win. Women liked it when you listened. A trait Arsus was born with. He probably noticed the look in Crow’s eyes as he watched how skillfully Kedja handled a knife. Arsus hadn’t just taken Kedja to bed; he’d also taught her other things that worked to his own advantage. That Kedja benefited from this, too, was only natural. He would look at the flowers she brought him, just a bouquet of flowers. He trusted Kedja more than he trusted himself on this matter; if she thought the flowers were beautiful and worth cutting, then that was simply the case. “What mission?” he asked Crow, almost in passing, as he took the flowers and examined them like a trophy. He didn’t really want to interrupt the conversation between Crow and the Scribe. “Beautiful flowers, thank you, Kedja,” he then said to his slave.
[11:57:07] Crow (melchior.wardell) let his attention rest briefly on the simple bouquet before returning to Arsus. A faint hint of amusement touched his expression at the way the flowers were inspected as though they were some rare prize. “Beautiful, apparently. And efficiently acquired.” His gaze shifted toward Kedja for a moment. The knife had disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared, but Crow had noticed the movement. He said nothing about it now. Then Arsus asked about the mission. Crow’s eyes returned to him. “The mission?” A slight pause. “Apparently, it was to acquire flowers without declaring war on the butterflies.” His tone was dry, though his eyes briefly betrayed the joke. “Judging by the result, she has succeeded.” He glanced toward Róisín and gave a small nod. “As for your question about your father, I haven’t seen him recently. Although I did receive word of him being in Valaris. The Killer Kage has placed his banner there once more.” he knew Roison slightly aware of these matters so he didn’t keep that intel from her.
[12:02:16] KeDjA (lilli.breda) lets her hands fall as Arsus takes the bouquet and wipes her palms on the black, silky fabric before placing them back on her back and interlacing her fingers. At Arsus’s compliment, she beams at him for a moment and then murmurs a quiet “thank you” during a brief pause in the conversation. At the mention of butterflies and war, the corners of her mouth twitch suspiciously and her eyes sparkle with amusement. Her imagination runs wild immediately, conjuring images of armed butterflies. To keep from getting completely lost in her thoughts, she clears her throat softly and moves a little closer to Arsus to ask him quietly, “Would you like to deliver the flowers yourself, or should I bring them, my Master?”
[12:02:54] Róisín Russo (roisin.heartsong) nodded ” thank You , I do Hope He is well , Kage I mean , I’ve not seen Him since Skull , when I told Him about the Physician , searching for a rock thief ” as She nodded about her Father ” well I assume I’ll see my Father sooner or later , but I wont go to Valaris ”
[12:08:04] αяѕυѕ (daimos.baarer): Arsus let something like a smile show. “Oh, the mission,” he paused and lowered the bouquet so he could see Crow better. “I think Kedja handled this mission brilliantly, as you can see. Without provoking the ‘War of the Butterflies.’” Somehow, Arsus felt he’d heard that expression before—probably from some Earthling who was actually referring to stars. Arsus listened to the conversation in passing. He turned back to Kedja and looked to see which knife she was actually carrying today.
[12:12:24] Crow (melchior.wardell)’s gaze moved briefly toward Kedja as she spoke, catching the quiet amusement in her expression before returning to Arsus. “The war has been avoided. A successful mission, then.” A faint smirk touched his mouth. His attention shifted toward Róisín at the mention of Kage, listening without interrupting. He gave a small nod, filing the information away without pressing her further. Then his eyes returned to Arsus and Kedja. “I’d let Kedja decide,” he remarked dryly. “She was the one who selected them. Besides, if the Innkeeper is the intended recipient, perhaps the woman who knows her preferences should deliver them?” His gaze settled briefly on the bouquet. “Though I admit, I didn’t expect you to become a man of flowers.” There was a small dig in his words or perhaps jealousy that he didn’t think of that approach. He turned to Roisin. “Do you wish me to pass him a message?” he offered as ever gallant.
[12:17:12] Róisín Russo (roisin.heartsong) shook her Head ” Oh Just That I was wondering How He was is all , thank You ” as She smiled then to the Others ” I’m sure the Women will be quite happy , Most women love gifts of flowers , they even like chocolate , tho that can be expensive if someone has a sweet tooth”
[12:22:11] Crow (melchior.wardell)’s brow lifted slightly at the mention of chocolate, his gaze moving briefly toward Róisín. “Flowers and chocolate. Apparently, there are rules to this business that I was never taught.” A faint smirk touched his mouth before his attention returned to Arsus and the bouquet. “Though if the Innkeeper has a sweet tooth, Arsus may have discovered that flowers are only the beginning of the expense.” He gave Róisín a small nod. “Good to know about Kage. If you happen to see him before I do, tell him I asked after him.” he would dip his head “But I fear I have to depart. Duty calls.” with that he moved off silently and quick. He had been putting it off too long already. As he would head to Avarra.
[12:26:27] Neeve Barbosa (kristie.tigerpaw) sat reading her book quietly in the marketplace
[12:30:07] Crow (melchior.wardell) had developed an unfortunate sixth sense for certain things. Some places seemed to have a way of placing people exactly where they were least expected and Neeve had a habit of being found where he was already looking for her. So when he entered Avarra and found her seated among the flowers, book in hand, He did not pretend otherwise. He made no effort to pass by as though he had not come with a purpose. His gaze settled upon her, sharp at first, then softened by the faintest trace of amusement. “Greetings, Lady Neeve.” He came to a stop nearby, eyes briefly dropping toward the book before returning to her. “Reading something interesting. Something concerning the latest developments in serums?” His brow lifted. “Or perhaps a much more dangerous subject…”The corner of his mouth curved.“…the romantic affairs of an Ubar and his pleasure slave?”
[12:36:27] Neeve Barbosa (kristie.tigerpaw) turned another page just as she heard Crow’s familiar voice behind her. Lifting her head, she greeted him with a warm smile. “Actually… it’s a fairy tale about a girl who goes down rabbit holes. I found it in the library here on Gor. An odd place for a book like this, I feel.” She glanced down at the pages before looking back at him. “It’s a story I know from Earth, called Alice in Wonderland. Have you ever read it?” She chuckled softly at his suggestion. “Though I’d love to hear about this Ubar and his pleasure slave, if you wish to share. I’m sure it’s a far more interesting story, involving… romance, intrigue, and perhaps even a death!” Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she folded the corner of the page to mark her place and set the book upon the table. “Care to join me?”
[12:42:00] Crow (melchior.wardell) listened in the way he always did when she spoke, not merely hearing the words but allowing the little details to settle into place. “Alice in Wonderland,” he echoed, considering the unfamiliar title. “No. I can’t say I’ve read it. Or even heard of it.” A faint smile appeared. “I have had my share of sandwiches, though. Courtesy of a Barbarian.”He offered no further explanation. Some experiences were not his to share, not even with her. At the mention of the Ubar, Crow gave a quiet shake of his head. “That story sounds dreadful already. And yes… I doubt either of them came away from it particularly well.” He lowered himself beside her, settling with the ease of someone accustomed to finding a place wherever he happened to be. As he did, he adjusted the daggers at his belt, making certain they sat comfortably. A necessary inconvenience of being perpetually armed. His gaze returned to her. “There isn’t much romance in the stories I’ve heard that actually lasts forever.” A faint, almost wistful curve touched his mouth. “Perhaps that’s because forever is a rather difficult promise to keep.”
[12:47:13] Neeve Barbosa (kristie.tigerpaw) paused for a moment, studying the man who had settled beside her. Her fingers tapped lightly against the book as she noticed him adjusting the daggers at his belt, a movement so familiar that she suspected he had performed it every day of his life. At the mention of sandwiches, however, her eyebrows lifted, and a curious smirk spread across her face. “Sandwiches, courtesy of a Barbarian? Now there’s a story I’d like to hear someday.” She chuckled softly before considering his words. “I don’t know, Crow. I know a few stories from Earth where they live happily ever after, though I suspect fairy tales are rather different from the real thing. As I know all too well myself.” She tilted her head thoughtfully, reaching for a flower from the vase before her and turning it gently between her fingers. “Forever is a long time, especially here in this world, Crow.” Her gaze returned to him, a faint smile touching her lips. “I think I’d choose… now over forever. Or at least…” She glanced down at the flower, her smile lingering. “For a while.”
[12:58:35] Crow (melchior.wardell) listened, the faintest amusement touching his features as he considered her words. His hand almost lifted when a loose strand of her hair caught his attention, the impulse there for only a moment before he deliberately kept it to himself. “Fairy tales,” he murmured, “are dreams given words. Hope and longing dressed up as something that might actually survive the ending.” Her jest about a lifetime of happiness earned a quiet chuckle. “I suspect even a man like me might grow suspicious if everything suddenly became too easy.” When she spoke of the girl from long ago, his gaze drifted for a moment, memories passing behind his eyes that he had no intention of explaining. Then he looked back to Neeve. “What we have now,” he agreed quietly. “Perhaps that is the only part of any story we are ever truly certain of.” His attention fell to the flowers beside her. After a moment, one brow rose.“Flowers seem to be following me today. Should I bring you some next time?” The question was asked lightly, but there was enough seriousness beneath it to make clear he genuinely wanted to know her answer.
[13:07:24] Neeve Barbosa (kristie.tigerpaw) watched him for a moment, a small smile playing upon her lips as she considered his words. “Perhaps that’s why we enjoy fairy tales so much, Crow. They give us something to hope for, even when we know the world doesn’t always work that way.” She glanced down at the flower still held between her fingers, gently brushing a thumb across its petals. “Though I suppose there’s something rather lovely about not knowing how a story will end. It would be terribly dull if we knew everything that was going to happen, wouldn’t it?” She popped the flower back into the vase, and then his next question about the flowers brought her gaze back to him, and she raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Are you offering to bring me flowers, Crow?” She chuckled softly, tilting her head as though giving the matter some serious consideration. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t object. Though I might begin to wonder what you were after if you started arriving with flowers every time you came looking for me.” Her smile softened a little as she looked at him. “But yes, I’d like that.” She noticed his restraint, too, the small nuances in his manner that spoke of the man beneath that carefully composed exterior
[13:14:10] Crow (melchior.wardell) nodded slowly at her assessment, the faintest trace of amusement touching his expression. “I have to admit, the element of surprise is one I could never live without.” The words carried a meaning of their own, though he offered no explanation. Some truths were better left where they belonged. As she spoke, Crow listened, not simply waiting for his turn to answer. He noticed the small things, especially when she spoke of flowers and what they meant to her. He gave a quiet nod, as though committing the information to memory. “It seems so easy,” he murmured. “So simple. So… effective.” His gaze drifted toward the flowers. “Apparently, I missed that particular lesson.” A faint chuckle escaped him. “Today I saw a slave cutting flowers so her master could present them to a woman who could simply look out of her window and see those same flowers growing.” He shook his head slightly.“I confess, I don’t entirely understand it.” Then his eyes returned to Neeve. “But if you like receiving flowers, then I suppose I should remember that. And next time, Lady Neeve, you shall have them.”There was nothing dramatic in the promise. Perhaps that was what made it matter.
[13:21:09] Neeve Barbosa (kristie.tigerpaw) noticed more and more that he kept looking at her expressions and somethings he said were left… unsaid. She paused a moment and cleared her throat. “You leave a lot unsaid Crow. Unspoken like a beast from this world that can not speak. Yet you speak half of what it is.” She sighed a little and tapped the book again “Why not… tell me? Why do you keep it hidden? I have lived a far time you know. I can handle.. whatever it is. ” She then chuckled softly at his confession, glancing towards the flowers as she considered his words. “Crow, I think you’ve missed the point entirely!” Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she turned back to him. “Of course the woman could look out of her window and see those very same flowers growing. But there’s a difference between admiring something beautiful and knowing that someone thought of you when they saw it.” She continues “It’s not really about the flowers, you see. It’s about the thought behind them. Someone taking a moment out of their day to do something simply because they thought it might make you smile.” She paused, studying him again “Though I must admit, I’m rather enjoying the idea of you wandering about Avarra, trying to decide which flowers might please me most. Though I do hope you won’t go troubling some poor slave to cut them for you. I think I’d much prefer knowing you picked them yourself.”
[13:25:54] Crow (melchior.wardell) listened without interrupting, his gaze remaining upon her as she explained. There was something almost disarming about the simplicity of it. Not the flowers themselves. The thought behind them. His eyes lowered briefly to the book beneath her hand before returning to her. “You notice more than most.” A quiet breath escaped him, almost a laugh. “As for what I leave unsaid…” He paused, considering the words carefully. “Some things are safer when they remain that way. Others are simply difficult to put into words.” His gaze held hers. “And some things, Neeve, become considerably more dangerous once they are spoken aloud.” There was no threat in it. If anything, there was honesty. Then her explanation of the flowers drew the faintest smile from him. “So that is the lesson I missed.” He glanced toward the flowers around them. “It isn’t the flower. It is the fact that I saw it and thought of you.”His eyes returned to hers. “That seems considerably more complicated. But perhaps worth learning.” At her last remark, one brow lifted. “And you want me to pick them myself?” The faint smile deepened. “I suppose I can manage that. Though I make no promises that I will know which flowers are supposed to make you smile.” He looked at her for another quiet moment. “I may simply have to learn by watching you.”
Posted in Niamh, Synin on September 24, 2026 by crow1971
There are some stories that end. And there are others that simply disappear beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to be remembered.
For a long time, she was known as Amber. Before that, she had been called Raven. Nightshade. Synin. Niamh. And once, long before the years of collars, cities, captivity and loss, she had been Karlotte.
Perhaps the strangest part of her story is that none of those names were entirely false. They were pieces of the same woman. She came from a world very different from Gor.
She was a physician and a researcher, educated in medicine and specializing in the manipulation of DNA. Her knowledge extended far beyond ordinary healing. Genetics, biological alteration, medicine and the mechanisms of the human body were the fields in which her mind had once been completely at home.
Then she was taken. Why she was abducted from Earth remains known only to a very small number of people.The journey ended violently. The ship of acquisition carrying her crashed near Laura, and the life as she knew it came to an end.
She became property. She was enslaved and eventually auctioned by Ari Blackthorne. From there, her story became one of movement, captivity and survival. She was sold to an Assassin. And then she was lost again. During the chaos that followed, she was taken from the docks of Port Kar by those she knew as the enemy.
After that point, the story becomes fragmented. And for years, even she herself could not tell anyone what happened. Eventually she found herself in the cold north. The winds there were brutal, but for the first time in a long time, she found something she had almost forgotten existed. Safety. She became the personal bond of the Overseer. And then something happened that would change the direction of her life once again. She saved a woman’s life.
For that act, she was freed. No longer a slave, she became his companion. Together they travelled through several northern cities before eventually settling in Holmesk. There, she under the name of Niamh built something she had not expected to ever have again.
A family. She became the mother of six children: Caspian. Sasha. Elodi. Lova. Oona. Hildingr.
For a time, she was not a prisoner. Not a fugitive. Not a name passed from one owner to another. She was a mother. A physician. A woman with a life. And then she disappeared.
The Missing Years. Nobody truly knows what happened. Not the people who knew her. Not the people who searched for her. And eventually, not even to herself.
When she was found by the Assassin Vesper, the woman he encountered did not remember the life she had once lived. Her memories were broken. Some remained as fragments. Some had been buried so deeply that she could not reach them. And some seemed simply to have been removed from the story entirely. She did not know where she had been. She did not know why she had disappeared. She did not know what had happened between Holmesk and the moment she was found.
So she became someone else. Amber. A name given to a woman who was trying to exist without knowing exactly who she had once been.
Memory rarely returns the way people imagine. There is no sudden opening of a door and a complete history waiting behind it. It begins with something small. A word. A sound. A smell. A familiar movement. A pattern the mind recognizes before the conscious self understands why.
For Amber, the key was not a name. It was a phrase. “Begin with the first sequence.” To anyone else, the words meant nothing. To Amber, they belonged to another life. A life of laboratories. Research. Medicine. Patterns. Sequences.
The first response was confusion. Then came the headache. Then the images. White light. A laboratory. Gloved hands. A woman’s handwriting. A name. Niamh. And suddenly Amber understood something terrifying. She had not simply forgotten who she was.
Someone — or something — had buried her past.
Remembering Holmesk. The memories did not return in order. They came like pieces of broken glass. Torvaldsberg. Snow. The smell of cold air. A woman’s voice. A child’s hand. Then another. And another. Six children. Six faces. Six names. Caspian. Sasha. Elodi. Lova. Oona. Hildingr. The memories came with emotion before they came with clarity.
Love, fear, pride, loss, motherhood. And then came the realization that hurt more than anything else. She remembered Holmesk. She remembered her children. She remembered the woman she had been. But there was still a great empty space. A wall inside her mind. Everything after a certain point simply…wasn’t there.
Amber was never a lie. That realization changed everything. Amber had not been a false identity. The things she had experienced as Amber were real. The people she had met were real. The bonds she had formed were real. The woman who had survived after her memories were taken from her was real.
But Amber had been living with only part of the story. And now another part was returning. Niamh was not replacing Amber. She was emerging from beneath her.
The physician was still there. The mother was still there. The survivor was still there. The woman who had learned to live after losing almost everything was still there.
Amber had simply carried Niamh through the years when Niamh could no longer carry herself. Eventually someone asked her the question. Not Who were you? Not What happened to you? Simply: “What is your name?”
For a long moment she said nothing. Her fingers tightened. Her eyes closed. And somewhere beneath all the names she had worn, something answered. Not Raven. Not Nightshade. Not Synin. Not Amber.A name that had been waiting in the darkness.
“Niamh.”
It did not feel like becoming someone new. It felt like coming home. What remains unknown. There is still a missing chapter. Niamh remembers Holmesk. She remembers her children. She remembers the woman she was before the disappearance. But the time between Holmesk and her rediscovery remains largely inaccessible.
There are no clear memories of those years. Only fragments. Dreams. Sensations. Occasional flashes that disappear before they can be understood. Perhaps the memories will return. Perhaps they will not. And perhaps there are people who know what happened who have remained silent all this time. That part of the story has not yet been written.
Niamh
Today, she carries all of her names.
Raven taught her survival. Nightshade taught her caution. Synin taught her to disappear. Amber taught her how to live when she no longer knew who she was.
And Niamh reminds her who she had been before all of it began.
She is still a physician. Still a mother. Still a survivor. Still a woman shaped by every road she has walked. But now she knows that her story did not begin when she was found. And it did not end when her memory was lost. There is still a missing chapter. There are still questions without answers. There are still six names written somewhere in the deepest part of her heart. And perhaps, one day, the rest of the story will return. Until then, she walks forward under the name she remembers.
Niamh.
The Gods may demand that we follow their path, but only by our own will can we find our true destiny. And perhaps that was the truth hidden beneath all the names all along. She was never truly lost. She was simply waiting to remember herself.
[11:25:47] Crow (melchior.wardell) approached Hecate quietly, his thoughts still on what he had found beneath Kazoo’s collar. He reached into one of the pockets of his belt and drew out the old, bloodstained piece of cloth. He held it out for her to investigate, watching her reaction carefully. “Scent.” His fingers closed around the cloth as he gave the familiar signal, then he slapped his thigh once. “Find.” He remained still, eyes reading Hecate as he waited to see whether the old scent meant anything to her.
[11:28:36] Hecate had escaped the sleen pit for a time to avoid the younger two sleens that had been harrassing her. Whisper and Hilda not surviving any run in’s with her teeth without a proper scolding in sleen style. But as Crow approached her the grumpy beast gave a deep rumble. Looking to the cloth that had been brought to her nose. She sniffed it, taking in the lingering scents before she exhaled and sneezed, the key that she had taken in the scent fully. Before she went to start to lurk around the camp, checking to see if the scent was here. Only to return back to Crow, if she was human she’d be shaking her head and looking frustrated. Instead she just sat down next to him with a grumping noise. The villain was not here, and thus they’d have to go else where.
[11:32:25] Crow (melchior.wardell) watched Hecate return, the answer apparent in the way she settled beside him with that irritated rumble. “So. Nothing here.” He crouched beside her, taking the cloth back carefully. “You found the scent. Just not the one who left it.” hE looked toward the surrounding camp, his expression thoughtful. “That means we go elsewhere.” He gave Hecate a brief pat along the side of her neck. “Good girl.” A pause, followed by the faintest hint of amusement. “Now let’s see if Kazoo’s mystery has left more than one trail.” It was perhaps odd how quick their bond had developed. He trusted the animal blind, but in return hoped to ensure her safety and wellbeing. “Let us see if Avarra might bring more recognition. I am unsure what we might learn there.” with that he pointed and gave signal to heel.
[11:38:07] Hecate rumbed as she had followed after Crow, she never was a fan of being shipped but she tolerated it. Ending there on the bricks of Avarra where her handler had brought her. Her nose sniffing the air, a deep rumble running through her. There. She was unsure of where the scent was but it lingered in the thick from the water. Whoever they were tracking was here. Smells layered on smells, it would take her a while to catch the proper scent.
[11:38:32] Crow (melchior.wardell) entered Avarra at an unhurried pace, the familiar weight of his weapons settling naturally against him. Hidden beneath his clothing rested Chaos and Order, his paired daggers, while the blade given to him by Yoko rode securely at his side. A coil of rope hung from his belt, with his whip secured where it could be reached without thought. He carried no weapon openly for display. He never had. At his side came Hecate, massive and watchful, her six-legged gait steady as she moved through the city. Crow gave her no command. She knew enough to remain close. His hand briefly rested near the hilt of Yoko’s blade before falling again. “Come, Hecate.” He continued deeper into Avarra, saying nothing more, letting the city decide what it would show him. Just as he would see if Hecate would pick up a scent.
[11:40:58] Hecate pressed her nose more to the stone of the stairs, something familiar had been this way. She caught Crow’s own smell but the scent she was on lingered there. Her nostrils flared once, twice, and then she looked towards Crow. A deep rumble, of ‘its here’ given to him in a more sleenish manner. Her claws dug into the cobble but she didn’t move into the city without Crow. However the smell, the taste of the scent was here. And so she shouldered him, that response of ‘i found it’ before she looked around. The smell was everywhere.
[11:43:54] Crow (melchior.wardell) felt Hecate’s shoulder against him and immediately stopped. His eyes lowered to the great sleen, studying the intensity of her attention. “You found it.” He glanced toward the stone beneath them, then slowly looked down the street. The scent was not faint. It was everywhere. “Interesting.” He crouched and offered Hecate the cloth again. “Take it. Show me where it is strongest.” His gaze swept across Avarra. “If the scent is everywhere…”His eyes narrowed. “…then we’re not looking for one trail. We’re looking for where it begins.”
[11:46:59] Hecate took a deep breath of the cloth as she heard Crow’s words. The large beast taking in the scent once more before she started a slow lumber, one of careful consideration as claws clicked upon the ground. Sounding off as she went to find whatever was going on. Deep rumbling noises escaping her as she turned her head from side to side. Her fangs revealed a moment before they settled. As she started to trace to where the smell started. Heading back towards the crash, trying to figure out wither it was that being the general origin. Her tail swishing behind herself in a frustrated manner.
[11:52:42] Crow (melchior.wardell) followed Hecate without interrupting her concentration. He watched the direction she chose, the slow deliberate pace, the occasional turn of her head as she worked the scent through the city. When she began leading them back toward the crash site, His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “So that’s where it begins.” He adjusted the rope at his belt and glanced toward the streets behind them. “The scent travelled from the wreck into Avarra.” Hecate’s frustrated tail earned a faint smirk. “I know.” He reached down briefly, touching the side of her neck. “You don’t like following an old trail.” He looked ahead toward the direction of the wreck. “But you found it.” He straightened, his hand resting momentarily near one of his hidden daggers. “Let’s see what else is waiting at the end of it.”
[11:56:00] Hecate rumbled as she heard Crow speaking to her. The human earning her head turning towards him as she chuffed like a diva. Her fangs opening in a frustrated hiss as she ended up where the smell of many animals and that single scent remained. A trail this old, but everwhere at the same time confused the sleen. However her massive head butted into Crow in a rare sign of affection before she waited at the gait. Watching, observing. She knew soon he’d re-open it and she’d find the quarry, though the process may take a day or two she was sure. Not that sleens weighed time like that but, when the gate opened did she start her hunt. Looking for the target that was lurking someplace. Though no one knew where.
[11:59:40] Crow (melchior.wardell) watched Hecate with a quiet amusement as the massive sleen gave that frustrated chuff, her fangs flashing in irritation at a trail that seemed to lead everywhere and nowhere at once. When her great head finally pressed into him, His hand settled against the side of her neck, fingers briefly working through the thick fur. “Yes. I know.” A faint smirk touched his mouth. “It is an inconvenient scent.” He glanced toward the gate, then back to her. The quarry was somewhere out there. Perhaps already watching. Perhaps unaware that something far more patient than a man had found its trail. He gave Hecate’s neck one final slow stroke before stepping toward the gate. “Then we hunt.” His hand reached for the latch, but he paused. “Not because we know where it is.” His eyes narrowed slightly toward the road beyond. “Because now we know where it came from.” The gate opened. He stepped aside, giving Hecate the first path beyond it. “Find it.” And he followed, leaving the choice of trail to the sleen.
[12:06:52] Hecate gave a deep grumble as she continued around, noticing something, the smell was layered. As though it was something drawing her around. She sniffed at things here, checked over things there. She was unsure to what she was looking for, quiet paces, small signs that she was getting frustrated. Yet she didn’t take it out on crow. Instead hissing at people who may step too close before leaving them alone. She allowed touches from Crow and mainly him alone, others if given permission could touch her at shorter periods. But he was an exception, he had always been respectful in his contact anyway. She scuffed her claws and then looked back to Crow. the scent was heaviest in the city, as she paced this way and that, trying to figure out where the trail would end but getting lost.
[12:13:10] Crow (melchior.wardell) slowed his pace as Hecate began to circle, watching the subtle changes in her movements rather than trying to direct her. The scuff of claws against stone drew his attention. Frustration. Not fear. Not uncertainty alone. She had found something, but the trail refused to behave like a proper trail. He crouched beside her when she finally looked back at him, resting one hand against the thick fur of her neck. “Layered.” His eyes moved across the city, taking in the streets, doorways, stalls and passing people. “That explains the confusion. Whatever left this scent didn’t simply pass through Avarra once.” He let his fingers move slowly through her fur, grounding her rather than restraining her. “Something brought the scent here. And something else carried it further.” His gaze returned to the streets. “Animals. People. Goods. Perhaps blood. Or someone deliberately moving it.” He straightened, his expression becoming thoughtful. “Don’t fight the trail, Hecate. If it is everywhere, then everywhere is information.” Hecate would have to find the thread herself. Hemerely intended to follow it.
[12:15:41] Rainy Francis-Vane (rainysky) walks up the stone steps, my feet silent and firm on the stones. With a breath, i look around and see, first the sheen, then the man, walking to the wall to give myself space as i breath in again
[12:17:39] Hecate continued to circle until Crow came to her. She turned her head to look at him with those sharp goden eyes before she chuffed at him. As though accepting what he was saying as she herself looked about once again. Trying to find the trail, where it started once more. Finding a scent once more she continued on her path. Only to pause at the sound of someone near by. Her head snapping the new scent before leaving the girl alone. The smell in Avarra leading her up and down the streets as she tried to find that threat of who she was looking for. Grumbles, chuffs, frustration. It was clear she was trying to do what she could, before looking to to the sky as a shadow flew over. The loose tarn and with that she left it alone. Continuing on her path once agian, searching.
[12:19:31] Crow (melchior.wardell) was no superhero, but his hearing was very well developed. And in his craft a six sense of being approached was trained well enough to feel the slave behind him. He cut a glance to her. His gaze not unfriendly but there was no warmth in it either. As the tarn flew he pondered if it was the same one he had seen days prior. Curious as a former tarnsman. “I know you can’t do miracles, Hecate, but you always do exceptional.” he soothed.
[12:21:57] Rainy Francis-Vane (rainysky) nods to the man, feeling the beasts eyes as well. with a soft, quiet voice, i offer “greetings Master” my eyes briefly looking to his, not in defiance, nor in fear, just in caution. quickly scanning my surroundings but allowing the moment to carry
[12:23:02] Hecate crawled over the wall towards the river and fountain, as though someone had washed their scent there, trying to figure out what it had been. There was no current sign of her target, whoever it was had little tidbits. She stuck her nose into a bush where a clue had been left. A mound of meat hiding in the town. It looked fresh enough like it had been to lure others there. As though it had been placed there a few times. She growled and pulled her head from the bush and sat down. The scent was heaviest here. It was whowever the target was had left this last. But the scent of rotten meat overpowered her scent. She was unsure to what would leave such things but disgust showed. The path ended here for now.
[12:27:31] Crow (melchior.wardell) remained still as Hecate settled, watching the great sleen rather than the people around them. The moment she withdrew her head from the bush, His attention shifted toward it. He approached slowly, crouching beside the mound without touching it. The smell reached him even before he could see the meat clearly. “Rotten.” His eyes narrowed. “Yet fresh enough to attract something.” He glanced toward the fountain, then the river, following the logic of what Hecate had discovered. Water. Washed scent. Meat placed deliberately. The same location used more than once. He looked back at Hecate. “You’ve done well.” His hand settled briefly against her neck, giving a slow scratch through the fur. “Someone has been feeding this place.” His gaze returned to the meat.”Or baiting it.” At Rainy’s greeting, He turned his head toward her. His expression remained calm, neither hostile nor particularly welcoming. “Greetings.” His eyes briefly assessed her, then returned to Hecate. “The trail ends here because the scent was deliberately buried beneath something stronger.” A faint, humorless smile appeared. “Whoever did this was either clever…”
[12:29:16] Gabbi Del-Moro (gabbisapphire): climbed the stairs from her house and crossed the courtyard, intending to check on the infirmary. A perfectly ordinary errand. She had almost begun to appreciate those again. Then a growl reached her as she emerged into the square. Gabbi stopped, one foot barely settled beside the other. Every hair upon the back of her neck stood to attention. Wonderful. At least some part of her was prepared for duty. The past few days had taught her enough to resist the urge to run. Sudden movement invited pursuit, and she had no intention of giving anything with teeth a reason to discover how poorly a small Physician ran in skirts. Nor would she risk a direct stare. For a moment, she considered continuing toward the infirmary with all the composure of a woman whose internal organs had not just attempted to retreat into her slippers. Instead, she slowly turned her head, looking over her shoulder without seeking the creature’s eyes. Please, let there be someone beside it. Someone on two legs, preferably holding a very substantial chain.She had meant to visit the infirmary in a professional capacity.
[12:31:31] Rainy Francis-Vane (rainysky) lets out a breath as the man’s attention shifted back to his task. my head tilting with curiosity, which seemed quickly, and purposely extinguished. scanning back to the docks, i step back before turning, to retrace my steps silently, a hint of urgency as i do
[12:35:03] Hecate turned her head at hte sound of a woman, lifting it, looking up to those ragid breaths before she looked back to the man who followed after her. Indeed no hefty chain attached too her. Her eyes met the woman before she turned her head back to Crow, chuffing as he scratched through her thick well kept fur. And with that she looked about, her nose working over time as the smell of something else approaching. However she didn’t approach Gabbi, she left the woman unharrassed.
[12:36:41] Crow (melchior.wardell) noticed the subtle change in Hecate before he noticed the woman approaching. The great sleen’s posture shifted, attention briefly drawn toward the square. His gaze followed.He recognized her. There was the faintest flicker of dry amusement as he took in the Physician’s careful attempt to appear as though nothing at all was wrong. “Physician.” His voice was quiet, carrying just enough to reach her without startling Hecate or the other sleen that was still in training. He moved half a step, placing himself naturally between Gabbi and the sleen without making any sudden gesture. “You’re safe.” A glance went toward Hecate. “Provided you don’t run.” He looked back at Gabbi, one eyebrow lifting slightly. “I imagine that was already going to be my advice.” he would point to both “These are mine. And fully under my supervision and responsibility. The other one … I think the one that your thrall knows very well.. I captured and took from the city.”
[12:39:06] Whisper was slow at getting up. She followed Hecate’s sent off the boat and up the stairs. She stopped and stared a few people before continuing on until reaching the courtyard. She approached Hecate only to pause seeing another person. A long stare. The slightest little growl before she climbed over the wall and passed Crow and Hecate and moving to push her muzzle down into the pond water for a drink.
[12:41:44] Gabbi Del-Moro (gabbisapphire): turned just enough to discover that one sleen had become two. There was Crow beside the black beast, however, which improved matters considerably. The absence of a hefty chain improved them somewhat less. Her eyes inadvertently met Hecate’s. Gabbi held still, releasing a careful breath when the beast turned away without charging. “Crow. You will be pleased to know that running was already losing favour with me.” Relief softened her shoulders at his explanation. “You captured the one Brokk rode? That is welcome news. I would prefer his next outing to involve walking.” Then a faint, rotten smell reached her nose. Her humour faltered. The docks came back to her: the wreck, the decomposing bodies offshore, and the discovery that the Killers had known for days before the stench finally alerted her. Surely she could wake up now. She had entertained this nightmare quite long enough. Her gaze followed the tan-striped sleen toward the pond before returning to Crow. “And the little one? Has the baby sleen been found? Perhaps it is still young enough to train.” A brief pause, her nostrils tightening. “Are you hunting something?” Her eyes shifted toward the black sleen’s working nose. “I suspect she smells it too.”
[12:45:55] Hecate chuffed and glanced to Crow once more before she looked back to Whisper, a deep rumble coming from her before she glanced over her shoulder back to crow. Waiting to see if he gave commands but also being patient as she sat there. Deep rumblings coming from her but not in aggression but disgust of the rotten meat. Her claws dug into the ground before she settled and turned to watch the young sleen behind her. Keeping it in line in her own manner.
[12:48:46] Crow (melchior.wardell) gave Gabbi a sidelong glance, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly at her comment about Brokk. “That depends on your definition of captured. Kazoo is not captured. Not anymore.” he lifted his bandaged hand up for her to see. “He simply decided that leaving was less appealing than staying.” His other hand rested briefly against Hecate’s neck as the great beast continued to work the scent. “And the little one…” He shook his head. “I haven’t found it.” His eyes moved toward the fountain and the river beyond. “Though after what I’ve found here, I’m beginning to wonder whether we’re looking for one animal at all.” He nodded toward the mound of meat. “Hecate found this. Fresh enough to be deliberate, rotten enough to be unpleasant. The scent she’s following is strongest here, but it is layered beneath the smell of meat and water.” His attention returned to Gabbi. “The trail begins at the wreck. It enters the city. Someone or something has carried that scent through Avarra.” He looked back toward Whisper
[12:48:46] Crow (melchior.wardell): ready to correct her if she was overstepping the boundaries. He would signal for Hecate to leave the rotten meat for now. “Is there a thrall about that could clean up this mess?” he asks Gabbi. He felt himself already way more than the local undertaker in the city and wondered where those truly in power were.
[12:53:52] Whisper lapped at the pond. Feeling a bit more refreshed although irritated with the scents. She turned around with water dripping from her mouth and started to pace along side Hecate. She went up and down stepping through the flowers. A few times before finally settling herself down behind Hecate. Her gaze drifting from Crow to the woman he spoke with.
[12:55:55] Gabbi Del-Moro (gabbisapphire): allowed her shoulders to ease, though she maintained a respectful distance. Being excluded from the menu afforded her an opportunity to watch Hecate, following the chuffing and patient movements of her paws. To Gabbi, it looked rather as though the sleen wished to bury the offensive discovery. She sympathised. Her gaze briefly settled upon Crow’s bandaged hand. “I see staying required some negotiation.” The humour thinned as she listened. Meat deliberately placed, a scent leading from the wreck into the city… Her eyes returned to the disturbed earth. “Then perhaps hunger alone has not been bringing them through our streets.” A troubling possibility, though she would not dress suspicion as certainty. “Brokk is not with me, unfortunately. Whoever clears this should use a shovel and keep it well away from the water.” A faint smirk touched her mouth. “As for those with authority, these are neither my performing animals nor my travelling show. I merely tend whoever gets bitten.”She glanced across the square. “Perhaps seek the Commander, assuming he exists outside conversation. Failing that, one of the Heads of Caste. They at least have a voice upon the council, and this seems an excellent occasion to use it.”
[12:56:23] Hecate turned her head and chuffed at Whisper as she came closer before she herself laid down next to the other. Ignoring the meat smell as the two people talked she looked patiently to her handler. Her eyes taking in his movements. However she was quiet, for the most part besides hissing and chuffing that was typical for a beast such as her. Patience showing upon her features of an old wise beast.
[13:02:26] Crow (melchior.wardell) glanced toward Whisper as the second sleen settled beside Hecate. The two great beasts were suddenly quiet, almost statuesque, their earlier irritation replaced by the patient stillness of hunters waiting for their handler to decide what came next. Gabbi’s words drew a faint, knowing smile. “Negotiation,” He repeated, looking briefly at his bandaged hand. “That is a generous description of being bitten.” His gaze returned to the two sleen. “Kazoo has made his position on ownership remarkably clear. I suspect the negotiation will continue.” He listened as Gabbi suggested the Commander and the Heads of Caste. His expression became more thoughtful. “The Commander.” He let the title sit for a moment. “Yes. Assuming Avarra has managed to keep one. You’re right about one thing, Physician. Hunger may explain why a beast follows a scent.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “It doesn’t explain why the scent was put here.” His attention shifted to Whisper and Hecate. He studied their calm posture, then the direction both animals had been facing before settling. “You’ve done enough for now.” releasing them from their position, but as ever under his watch and supervision. His gaze lifted toward Gabbi as he moved over the wall.
[13:07:00] Whisper responded a chuff towards Hecate. She moved her muzzle curiously through the air then towards Crow but then towards the woman. She was settled for now but once released for her position she gets up and goes back to pacing.
[13:11:08] Hecate grumbled softly as she saw the movement from Crow, standing up she scaled the wall easily for the six legged creature was a forest sleen. Up and over she went before she looked back to the other forest sleen, chuffing at her in a ‘come on’ manner as she waited, seeing if she’d have to manually pull the other sleen over the ridge. Yet she still did not approach Gabby. Sensing the fear from the other before she nudged crow just once. A warning, the smell was starting to grow once more.
[13:12:52] Gabbi Del-Moro (gabbisapphire): glanced at his bandaged hand. “Then I trust Kazoo will forgive me if I favour your side of the negotiation. I hope one of our Physicians has already attended to that. A clean bandage is reassuring, though I am professionally obliged to care what is beneath it.”She watched Whisper rise, keeping her movements unhurried and allowing the sleen room. The faint smell of decay still reached her, though she could not see its source. Her nose wrinkled slightly beneath her veil. “No. Hunger accounts for the beasts following it. How it came to be here is another matter.” Her brow creased. “First the wreck, now a trail into the city. I was rather hoping our troubles had washed ashore by accident.” As Crow moved over the wall, she turned slightly to keep him in view. “I set out this morning to check the infirmary. A modest ambition, you might think. Yet here I stand discussing suspicious meat while congratulating myself upon not becoming any.” Her gaze flicked toward the square before returning to him.“If someone is encouraging these creatures into the streets, I suspect my quiet morning will become a very busy afternoon.” Her mouth tightened.
[13:17:56] Crow (melchior.wardell) felt the single nudge against him and immediately stopped. The change in Hecate was subtle, but he had learned long ago not to ignore subtle things. His eyes moved toward the forest sleen. The scent. Stronger again. He did not raise his voice. “Physician. Stay here for the moment. And yes an apprentice under supervision of Neeve stitched the wound and bandaged it.” There was nothing to further alarm her in his tone, only certainty. “The scent has changed.” His eyes returned to Hecate. “Whatever she has found, it is closer now.” He studied the animal “Easy.” He turned to Gabbi “I think they have picked up the scent. I will continue the hunt in hope to find more answers than questions.” He turned to Hecate “Find it. Don’t chase it.” His attention hardened as he looked into the terrain beyond the wall. “Something has come back.”
[13:19:17] Whisper watched Hecate. She sudden picking up one the ques from her body language. She would move to the wall and instead of climbing over as she did earlier she would also leap over. She herself wasn’t aware of what Hecate was locked on to but only that something was amist.
[13:21:03] Hecate turned her head towards Crow, her signal having gotten through as she grumbled. Deep rumbling noises as she was clearly upset at whatever trail she had been following. Yet the smell was strong in the air, something approaching. She chuffed at Whisper and moved off, clearly expecting the other sleen to follow after her as her nails clicked and clacked, the sleen starting off in a deliberate manner, clearly intent upon her search. She would not chase but…..that didn’t mean the target may not flee. She was unsure what was to happen for now? She stalked. Headed back down to the ship crash.
[13:22:19] Gabbi Del-Moro (gabbisapphire): gave a small nod at the mention of Neeve. “Then your hand has had proper attention. Good.” His next instruction earned a rather different response. One brow rose as the second sleen disappeared over the wall, leaving her decidedly short of company on her side of it. “Crow, a moment. If something has returned, I fail to see the advantage of remaining here alone while you depart with both sets of teeth.” Her voice remained measured, pitched low enough not to distract the animals. Fear had made her attentive; it had not rendered her agreeable to being abandoned beside the flowerbeds.“I will keep clear of their work, and I have no intention of blundering ahead of you. But I am not staying in this garden by myself.” She gathered the loose fall of her skirts, looking for a passage around the wall rather than attempting the sleens’ route.“A stronger scent need not mean whatever left it is directly ahead. The breeze can change, and neither of us has established what might approach from behind.” Her green eyes returned to him, steady now. “By all means, continue your hunt. Kindly account for one small Physician who intends to reach the infirmary in possession of all her limbs.”
[13:23:21] Crow (melchior.wardell) watched the two forest sleens disappear over the wall, his expression tightening as Hecate’s deliberate pace carried her back toward the wreck. That was not a hunt driven by hunger. Hecate was tracking something she expected to find. Crow crossed the wall after them, landing lightly on the other side before pausing. He listened. No command to chase. No command to attack. Only the quiet rhythm of claws moving over earth. “Good girl,” he murmured, more acknowledgment than praise. “Keep the trail.” he glanced over his shoulder to Gabbi “I wish you well, physician.”
[13:23:47] Whisper ‘s ears perked up hearing the chuff. Smallest little growl in her chest as she would follow after Hecate.
[13:26:48] Sabrina was quietly minding her own business, FOR ONCE, tending to a wound on her belly that was juuust starting to get infected. There was a handy dandy hole where the fabric had torn away, so it was nice and easy. She froze though, catching a scent on the air. Sleen. That scent was unmistakable. She’d start to try to slip away, not that avoiding sleen was particularly possible at this point, but the brain does funny things when in flight or fight.
[13:27:46] Hecate followed the trail, to where they had been searching, only to find something strong in the bushes. Fangs revealed, as the scent of her target was all to strong here. Her head lowered to the ground as she followed after. Click click click, went her claws on the steps, the smell fresh and new. And soon upon exiting the last gate she nearly bolted around the corner. And there it was. The target, the smell permiating off of her as ears went back and front paws splayed in an act of aggression and warning. Should her victim run she would go to block the path, growling to whisper in a clear dominant manner, to block the other side. Two herding and hunting animals hopefully acting as one to block Sabrina’s way.
[13:31:40] Crow (melchior.wardell) stopped the instant Hecate rounded the corner. There. His eyes fixed on the woman ahead as the scent finally made sense. Hecate’s posture told him everything before words were necessary, the lowered head, splayed forepaws, ears back, the deep warning rumble. He did not draw a weapon. Instead, his attention flicked toward Whisper as the second sleen moved into position. “Good.” Quiet. Controlled. He stepped forward just enough to establish himself behind Hecate, keeping his movements slow and deliberate. “Hold.” His gaze remained on Sabrina. “You’ve been found.” There was no accusation in his voice yet. Only observation. He studied her carefully, the torn clothing, the wound at her belly, the way she was trying to retreat. His eyes narrowed. “You’re injured and if you move that will be the least of your worry.” he cautioned. “These sleens can hunt and heard.” he gave a small signal to Hecate and showed Whisper the one for ‘to stay’. But with only making a fist he could have them spring to action. “So I suggest you don’t run.” His voice remained almost conversational. “Now…Would you care to explain why the trail from the wreck ends with you?”
[13:32:52] Whisper watched Hecate and she noticed something in the foliage. She hunched down and her ears went back and her lowered body would start to move in from around the left as Hecate went right. Low growl as she took in the scent of what Hecate was focused on, a girl. She looked almost ready to pounce. Her tail whipping around a bit behind her. Her eye caught the signal to stay and she froze in her spot
[13:35:02] Sabrina quite soon found she was blocked off, a slee to her left, sleen to her right and a Crow in the center. She did back up slightly, but then she heard Crow’s suggestion to…not move and froze. She was shaking with terror, pale and wide eyed.
“U-um.” was all she managed in regards to his questions, her eyes daring between the two sleen, looking like she’d love to dash away but even she wasn’t that dumb… [13:35:27] Sassy (lysander.eguzkia): sleen* darting*
[13:36:43] Hecate rumbled softly and held still, the blocking of the way to the cave as she herself gave an irritated noise. As though being held back was annoying. She could smell the blood, and the wound. Her teeth flickered as she stayed there, crouched. Muscles rippling under her fur as she waited, watching. Yet she didn’t break training, and stayed there. She was a deterrent as was Whisper. As Sabrina stayed still, so too did she. Though an eye always rested upon Crow
[13:40:47] Crow (melchior.wardell) studied Sabrina for several quiet seconds. The fear was obvious. More importantly, so was the injury. His eyes briefly moved to Hecate, then to Whisper. Both sleens were holding position, but neither looked remotely convinced that the matter was settled. “Easy.” His voice remained calm as he gave the command again, directed toward both animals. He took one measured step toward Sabrina, deliberately keeping his hands where she could see them. “You don’t need to run.” His gaze dropped briefly toward the wound at her belly before returning to her face. “And you don’t need to answer quickly.” he stated with sarcasm. “But I need to warn you. I am not the type to repeat myself very often.” A slight tilt of his head. “And I often deal with things quite permanently.” he added in warming. “Now we can do this in several ways. You can walk with me back to the infirmary so you can be checked and answer questions. You can try to flee. If my sleens can catch you, I will not hold them back. If you think you outsmarted them. I will take my bow and aim pretty well to your head. So … what will it be?” His expression hardened slightly.
[13:42:43] Whisper held a crouch position. Her body flinched at the meer ‘um’ sound that slipped from the girl. She was so tempted to pounce but held herself in place. Her ears back low threatening growl. She heard the Easy and just held her place. Her gaze flicked to Crow then the girl.
[13:45:19] Hecate too stayed in position, but she didn’t attack. Waiting for Crow’s signals she stayed there. The growling had quieted for now but she was still on alert and on the job. Giving the girl a chance to obey or be hunted. The options where very few but wait she did. Her tail slowly snaking behind herself.
[13:45:39] Sabrina shuddered as she heard that growled warning from Hecate, eyes widening more”Pl-please! Call them off and I’ll speak, Sir!” she promised, her voice a stammer as she shook with terror.
She swallowed hard again “I-I will come with you, Sir.” she replied, that terror only dawning richer on her at his words.
[13:47:29] Crow (melchior.wardell) gave signal to both animals to heard her with him. A snap of his fingers to alarm them that they needed to remain focused. “Then by all means come and walk with me. ” he tells her as his hand waved towards the entrance of the city “And again … if you walk with me nothing happens. If you disengage … they will know what to do.” he cautioned her once more. He wouldn’t yet question her for now.
[13:49:16] Whisper quietly follows keeping her eyes locked on the the girl.
[13:50:23] Hecate trailed after, she was attentive and intense, her gold eyes staring as she stalked after, claws tapping upon the ground. She was following along at a distance, enough to make sure nothing could slip past should they turn and run, but also that she didn’t ram into anyone should they stop.
[13:50:47] Sabrina swallowed hard and nodded at his word s”I-I understand, Sir…” she said, moving to walk with him, the she-urt clearly quite happily following right behind him at his pace. Well. Not happily, but…she was still following. Her pounded in her chest, quieting considering her options as she followed in silence. There wasn’t any claims of innocence, nor attempts to barter. Not yet, anyway.
[13:52:20] Crow (melchior.wardell) studied her and noted that she was sort of injured. “Let us hope a physician is there. So you can not only be answering questions but also get that looked at.” as he indicated the injury on her belly.
[13:53:38] Kool Sim bell (wall): Crow (melchior.wardell) ♫ ◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡ ♪ PHYSICIANS: A visitor is seeking assistance with the Physicians ♫ ◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡ ♪
[13:57:50] Whisper stands off to the side watching the girl. Her tenses at the sound of the bell and growls a little. She otherwise kepts her eyes glued on the girl.
[14:01:39] Sabrina saw the two sleen diverge, opening up an exit for her. She was certain no matter what, death was likely coming for her. There was amoment where her body just seemed to twitch, like she was trying to work out what to do…
And then she turned and bolted.
[14:01:49] Crow (melchior.wardell): Go !
[14:01:53] Beast Claws LR Weapons 3.34 (only beast allowed): IRunOnCoffee Resident has enabled the Claws fight [14:02:06] LR Dagger of Assassin [dagger 25%] 2.24: Drawn [14:02:09] LR Dagger of Assassin [dagger 25%] 2.24: Sheathed [14:02:41] zCS ⚔ IRunOnCoffee Resident captured Lysander Eguzkia. ⚔
[14:03:43] Crow (melchior.wardell) let the animals have their hunt and fun and when the captive falls to the floor, only then he approaches. He takes his dagger and starts to roam her hair as he cuts through fabric and ribbons to disarm her.
[14:04:11] Hecate chased after, the second she heard the go command she was after the woman, lurching after, despite the turning and chasing of the girl she took her down with a well placed claw aimed to slam her into a building. She didn’t gobble up the girl but instead stood there, growling and snarling a warning, that should she move again before crow got to her, she would be ended. AS crow came she backed up, waiting….watching. And laying in wait. [14:04:22] Amoura Vale (irunoncoffee): ((wall not building*))
[14:04:38] Crow (melchior.wardell) would take a long piece of rope as he would take her by her wrists and starts to bind her. He was sufficient, quick even. He had a special signature knot that was hard to master as he tied her wrists together.
[14:05:03] Beast Claws LR Weapons 3.34 (only beast allowed): IRunOnCoffee Resident has disabled the Claws fight [14:05:18] Crow (melchior.wardell) would take another piece of rope as to tie her feet as to ensure that she was no longer very mobile. “So foolish.” he muttered as he tied them tightly together.
[14:05:25] zCS Melchior Wardell tries to bind Lysander Eguzkia. [14:05:27] zCS – Lysander Eguzkia has been bound by Melchior Wardell. – [14:06:12] zCS Melchior Wardell leashed Lysander Eguzkia.
[14:06:15] Whisper chased after the girl but Hecate was hot on her trail. Once the girl was down she hovered near growling and snapping but didn’t make a move to attack. She sat back and watched.
[14:07:29] Sabrina had no weapons nor anything nasty, the woman soon stripped however. She lay there wheezing and clearly in pain, bleeding from the claw marks.
Tears were streaming down her cheeks from that agony and the fact she was…well and truly caught. About the worst that could happen to a she-urt. She had a strong feeling that things were about to become…very bad for her future wellbeing as well, her pallor quickly paling.
[14:08:49] Hecate rumbled and turned her head to Whisper, chuffing once before looking back to Crow and his new victim. She stayed back, the human had it under control. Her teeth twisting as she ignored the blood on her claws. She had done her job and now she waited.
[14:10:19] Crow (melchior.wardell) ‘s expression changed the moment Sabrina made her choice. The long chain came free with a quiet metallic rasp. He fastened it securely to the bindings before taking the remaining length into his hand. “So incredibly stupid.” His voice was low now, stripped of the earlier patience. He looked over the woman, taking in the worsening wound and the condition she had put herself in by running. “Here you are… more injured than you were.” The chain tightened just enough to make the point, not enough to cause harm. “And you ran out of my kindness.” His gaze settled on Sabrina, cold and unreadable before he would look at the two sleens. His eyes with appreciation to Hecate “Stay.” Then back to Sabrina. “Now we find out what you know.” His voice remained quiet, but whatever warmth had been present earlier was gone. “And this time, you will answer me. For any question unanswered I will cut my dagger deeper. Is this understood ?”
[14:12:47] Whisper heard the stay growled a little but stayed. Her ears going from flat to alert. She lowered herself. Slightly annoyed, a bit worked up from the chase but remained obedient.
[14:13:42] Sabrina was shaking with a combination of pain and terror, the blood from the vicious claw mark beginning to seep along the ground. She nodded at his words, the woman certainly not looking the best. She didn’t want that dagger dug into her skin on top of everything else, so she was apparently ready to cooperate now. Fully…The assassin and his sleen were very…persuasive.
[14:17:34] Hecate stared forth, her tail slowly flickering from side to side as teeth bared. However she stayed, waiting, watching, not moving. She obeyed Crow and a glance to Whisper to make sure the other was staying as well. But they obeyed without other question.
[14:20:09] Crow (melchior.wardell) noticed the blood first. His eyes dropped to the ground, following the thin trail for a moment before returning to Sabrina. The anger in his expression did not disappear, but it became controlled again. “Good.” He gave the chain a little slack. “Cooperation.” He stepped closer, examining the claw wound without touching it. “You are bleeding more than you were when I found you. That makes this conversation considerably less convenient.” A glance toward Hecate, then Whisper, both still under command. He looked back to Sabrina. “I am going to ask questions. You are going to answer them.” His tone was quiet and absolute. “And when we’re finished, I will decide whether that wound needs a Physician.” He didn’t give her any comfort or room. She was tied and still laying on the floor. “First question.” His eyes settled on her. “Did you place the meat by the fountain? And before you answer, remember that Hecate my sleen, followed your scent all the way from the wreck. So don’t waste either of our time by pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
[14:22:47] Whisper lays down and watches. Her eyes drifting from Crow to the girl awaiting the next command. Still a bit irritated and worked up.
[14:23:21] Sabrina swallowed hard as she caught his demeanor, saw that anger. The sleen were standing nearby and his dagger was out. She was naked and bound and while she’d been a bit of a dumbass in a final attempt for freedom, she wasn’t prepared to be stupid any longer. She nodded at his statement, that she would answer.
When he asked about the meat she swallowed hard, looking more afraid and stammered out “I-I did, Sir…”
[14:23:54] Hecate chuffed at Whisper. Before looking back to Crow, a clear sign to settle down from the older sleen. However even she seemed on edge. The chase having made her more upset. However even she was trying to settle so she didn’t take it out onto the others.
[14:25:43] Crow (melchior.wardell) held her gaze for a moment after the admission. No satisfaction crossed his face. Only the quiet calculation of someone who had just confirmed a suspicion. “I thought so.” His eyes shifted toward the direction of the fountain.”Why?” The single word was calm, but carried weight. He crouched slightly, bringing himself nearer to her level without softening the authority in his voice. “Was the meat meant for the sleen? Or was it meant to draw something else into the city?” he continued with his interrogation “And the scent you are carrying…” His eyes narrowed.”Did you come from the wreck?” He allowed the questions to hang rather than firing them at her one after another.”Start with the meat. Tell me what you were trying to accomplish.”
[14:28:16] Whisper chuffed in response to Hecate. She tilts her head slightly and silently drags herself closer to the pinned down girl.
[14:29:39] Sabrina was starting to feel warm and floaty as the blood continued to seep from her. Her senses beginning to dull slowly. She heard his question, seemed to take a long time to respond to it, almost seemed like she wasn’t about to respond at all.
“Wanted all the animals to come. Avarra magistrate had me unfairly earnotched. hadn’t stolen anything.” she murmured, revealing the intent of well, everything. Revenge. Simple, pure, devastating. “Never stole anything.”
[14:32:57] Hecate turned upon Whisper the second she tried to creep forwards, a singular paw going to slap the other sleen before she settled again, waiting, there had been no order to move! With that she waited, watching, seeing what was to be ordered next.
[14:40:45] Crow (melchior.wardell) ‘s attention followed the apprentice (NPC) as he took the leash and hauled the injured woman toward the infirmary. He watched for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Careful with her,” he called after him. “She’s injured. I want her alive and able to answer questions.” He then turned back toward the two sleens. The hard edge in his expression eased somewhat as he looked between Hecate and Whisper. The mystery of the cloth still bothered him. It had carried the scent that led them through Avarra, yet somehow that same scent had ultimately led them to Sabrina. He would have to examine it properly later. For now, the hunt was finished. He raised two fingers and snapped them sharply. “Come.” He turned toward the path away from the square, expecting the two forest sleens to follow. There was no urgency now. No trail to pursue, no quarry to corner. Only two hunters who had done their work. A faint smirk crossed his face. “You both earned something better than rotten meat.” He glanced over his shoulder at them. “And preferably something that isn’t trying to eat you back.” ((goodnight))
[01:16:42] Crow (melchior.wardell) entered the compound quietly, his attention immediately settling on Kazoo. He did not approach the sleen directly. Trust, he had learned, was easier to build when the beast was given a choice. Today, however, he needed answers. The injury needed proper examination, and the old collar beneath Kazoo’s fur had raised more questions than it had answered. He stated “Heel.” as he spotted the Sleen in hope the command was known.
[01:18:38] Kazoo had slept badly, curled deep within the straw of the shed as old memories stalked his dreams. Creaking timber. Salt. Iron bars. Men shouting. For a time Kazoo was back aboard the ship, trapped within his cage as the sea tossed it violently about, until came the crack of timber, freezing water and the terror of the wreck. He woke with a violent snarl, all six legs scrambling beneath him as his jaws snapped at bars that were no longer there. Only straw. The shed. The morning. His breathing gradually slowed, though the sharp musk of an agitated sleen filled the little shelter. Something pressed against his neck beneath the thick fur. The old collar. Kazoo twisted his head, teeth flashing as if he might somehow bite the hated thing from himself. He had escaped the cage and survived the shipwreck, yet still wore another creature’s claim around his throat. Then a voice reached him. “Heel.” Kazoo froze. His head turned slowly toward Crow, nostrils widening as he caught the man’s scent. The word was known. Somewhin that old life, someone had taught the beast exactly what it meant. A low, displeased rumble rolled from his chest. For several Ihn he simply stared at Crow, almost daring him to repeat it. Then, grudgingly, Kazoo crawled from the straw and moved toward him with that low six-legged gait, stopping close enough to technically obey. His flat head lifted toward the man, lips curling just enough to expose the tips of his fangs. He remembered the command. That did not mean he had to like the one giving it.
[01:23:27] Crow (melchior.wardell) remained still as Kazoo emerged from the straw, watching the beast rather than the collar he so clearly despised. The command had reached something buried deep within him. He noticed. His gaze moved briefly over the sleen’s posture, the uneven weight on his injured side, the tension beneath his fur. Then back to those exposed fangs. “Good.” He did not reach for him. Instead, Crow turned and walked slowly toward the training pit, trusting the command rather than forcing the beast to follow.
[01:36:27] Kazoo grunted a little. He followed a few paces behind, stopping every now and then to steal a snap at the air or some urt running by. Simply because he wanted to, not because he was hungry. He was thinking he could run at Crow’s legs for a few moments but this passed. Only just. Pain won through over the simple need to want to kill everyone or everything in sight. Then came the training pit. The cages. The weird spiky objects in the corner. The beast froze. He growled and thumped his tail again. If Crow thought he was going in there – he really should think again. His whole posture changed.. Snarls, head moving from side to side
[01:38:43] Crow (melchior.wardell) stood in the center near the crates that held livestock. He stopped and reached to one of the crates with two vulo’s. Letting them out so the sleen could take them. He waited, his hands deliberately visible and away from the whip. “You’ve already decided I am not your enemy.” A faint tilt of his head. “Let’s see if you can decide I’m worth trusting.” He took one step backward into the pit himself, never taking his eyes from Kazoo. “And if you behave…” The faintest trace of amusement touched his voice. “…you may even keep all six legs today.” As he moved toward the edge of the training pit and stopped, leaving plenty of space between himself and the sleen. “Come on. You eat. ” His hand remained away from the whip. Only after Kazoo had entered the pit would he need the next part. From another pouch he quietly prepared a small dart, keeping it hidden for now. The sedative would not harm the beast. It would simply make him slightly dazed long enough for Crow to examine the injury and, if Kazoo allowed it, finally investigate that mysterious collar. Crow watched the sleen carefully. “Trust me just this once.” A faint dry smile touched his face. “I promise the food is considerably better than an urt.” He noted the gaze towards the cages and he shook his head “Those aren’t for you.” he stated as if he could read the animals mind.
[01:44:50] Kazoo remained planted outside the pit, six legs stiff beneath him as his head swung from Crow to the cages and back again. The growl never quite stopped. He remembered this man. Remembered his scent, his voice and that he had been near him before without bringing pain. That counted for something in the simple, suspicious workings of the sleen’s mind. But cages counted for something too. Cages meant ships. Iron. No escape. His tail struck the ground once with an angry thump. Then the vulos fluttered loose. Kazoo’s head snapped toward them instantly, jaws opening slightly as instinct wrestled with memory. Crow had entered the pit himself. He had not reached for the whip. He had not tried to force Kazoo inside. The sleen snorted heavily, almost as if deeply offended by the entire arrangement. Slowly, one paw crossed into the pit. Then another. His body followed low to the ground, all six legs carrying him forward with deliberate caution, though his eyes kept flicking toward those cages. He stopped just inside and stared at Crow for several Ihn. Trust him? Perhaps. Eat? Definitely. Suddenly he exploded forward after one of the vulos, jaws snapping for it with considerably more enthusiasm than was necessary. If Crow wanted him in the pit, then Crow could watch what happened to things foolish enough to run from a sleen. Adds that of course he was lumbering like he was still in pain on one side!
[01:50:01] Crow (melchior.wardell) watched Kazoo cross into the pit, noting immediately the way the beast favoured one side. The pain had not escaped him, despite Kazoo’s determination to pretend otherwise. Then the vulos moved. He barely had time to follow the motion before Kazoo launched himself after it, the sudden burst of speed made considerably less impressive by the uneven hitch in his gait. It amused him. “Of course.” He folded his arms, watching the sleen make short work of his chosen prey. “You can barely walk properly, but apparently that is no obstacle when something decides to fly.” He waited until Kazoo had finished before producing another piece of meat. He tossed it deeper into the pit, away from the cages. “Eat.” His gaze remained on the injured side. “And then you are going to let me look at that leg. You may growl.” The faintest smirk. “You may glare.” He reached slowly toward his pouch, keeping the movement deliberate and visible. “But you are not biting me again.”
[01:58:10] Kazoo had caught the vulo eventually, injury or not, crushing it between those enormous jaws with absolutely no concern for manners. He was a beast, after all. What did Crow expect? When the other meat was tossed deeper into the pit, Kazoo’s head turned to follow it before his gaze shifted slowly back to the man. No. That was already dead. Where was the fun in that? With what could almost be called an insultingly dismissive look, the sleen lowered himself right where he stood instead, stubbornly refusing to move another step. His lips pulled back to bare his fangs at Crow, eyes dropping briefly to the man’s bandaged hand. He remembered that. Remembered the scent and taste of the blood he had drawn. His attention sharpened when Crow’s hand moved toward the pouch. Nothing escaped the sleen’s notice now. Kazoo’s head shot forward with a vicious snap of his jaws, not quite close enough to bite, but certainly close enough to make his opinion clear. Whatever Crow was reaching for, Kazoo had already decided that if he didn’t like it, the man’s other hand might soon require a matching bandage.
[02:04:38] Crow (melchior.wardell) stopped the instant Kazoo’s jaws snapped toward him. He did not retreat, but neither did he make the mistake of reaching closer. His eyes dropped briefly to those teeth, then to the sleen’s injured side. “Message received.” Slowly, he withdrew his hand from the pouch and held it where Kazoo could see it. “You don’t want me touching you. Yet.” He crouched slightly, keeping his posture relaxed. “But that leg needs attention, and pretending otherwise will not make it heal.” He glanced toward the meat Kazoo had ignored. “Stubborn.” A faint smirk. “I can work with stubborn.” He reached into the pouch again, this time deliberately revealing the small dart before placing it on the ground between them. “No tricks.” His gaze returned to Kazoo. “This will make you sleepy. Nothing more. You will wake up with the same number of teeth, legs, and opinions.” He nudged the dart slightly with one finger. “And I will finally be able to see what happened to you. You decide when.” He then sat back on his heels, making no further attempt to approach. He was willing to wait and quite certain that when it came to patience, his own training on that subject had been thorough. “I have all the time.” He was very much aware that all the words were hardly understood, but it was how he comforted the animals in his care. Make them feel as if they were still in charge of all what was important.
[02:18:54] Kazoo grunted at him as he retreated his hand from the pouch. Kazoo had won. Momentarily. When Crow reached into it again, another growl rolled from deep within the sleen’s chest. Most of the man’s words meant nothing to him, but two caught his attention. Dart. Sleep. He wanted neither. He had only just woken up! His tail slammed against the ground as he stared at the little object Crow placed between them. Kazoo’s head lowered, nostrils working as he sniffed cautiously in its direction without getting any closer. Sleep meant vulnerability. Cages. Waking somewhere he had not chosen to be. No. His ears flattened and his gaze shifted from the dart to Crow, then back again. Yet the man wasn’t advancing. That confused him. Kazoo gave another irritated snort before deliberately stretching his injured leg out in front of himself, almost seeming to acknowledge the very thing Crow wanted to examine. Then his jaws opened in a wide display of teeth. Look all you wanted from over there. Coming closer was an entirely different matter.
[02:28:04] Crow (melchior.wardell) studied the sleen in silence. The extended leg was not surrender, but it was something. His eyes moved carefully over the limb without advancing. “Better.” He left the dart exactly where it was. “You understand more than you pretend to.” He shifted slightly, lowering himself so he was less imposing, his gaze remaining on the injured leg. “I won’t take your choice away. But if you show me the leg, I’ll respect the offer.” Of course he was no fool. The animal had given him little choice. He could not approach it let alone touch it and yet that was exactly what was needed to see that things would be addressed. He could enforce it. Use rope to restrain the animal but he wanted to build trust and with it that meant patience. Letting the animal know that he wouldn’t back down, but also not force it to something it did not wish or was meant to. It is why Hecate was so damned loyal and well behaved. The bond of trust had been a slow process but it had been forged almost like iron. Crow very much aware that it was still a sleen with natural instincts just as he was. He waited, making no attempt to touch Kazoo. “I might be able to help you with that leg … but you should allow me to touch you … ” he started the negotiation, for as far the sleen understood such.
[02:35:03] Kazoo kept his head low, eyes fixed upon Crow as that growl continued to rumble deep within his chest. He did understand. Perhaps not every word, but tone, posture and intent were things a beast knew well. Slowly, Kazoo shifted his weight onto his other legs and lifted the injured paw from the ground, holding it awkwardly before him. His head dipped once toward Crow, almost a nod, though the warning rumble never stopped. It was as close to permission as the stubborn sleen was willing to give. He would allow the man nearer. Perhaps even allow him to touch the injured limb. His eyes flicked pointedly toward the pouch, however, then back to Crow as his lips twitched away from his fangs. The message was equally clear. The paw was offered. Trust was being tested. But if that dart came back out of the pouch, negotiations were very definitely over.
[02:39:07] Crow (melchior.wardell) noticed the pointed glance toward the pouch and gave the faintest nod. “Understood.” Slowly, he reached into the pouch but deliberately pulled out a clean cloth instead. The dart remained where it was. He moved closer, one careful step at a time, stopping well short of crowding Kazoo. “Good choice.” He lowered himself beside the offered paw, studying it before making contact. His fingers moved carefully over the fur around the injury, testing for heat and swelling without pressing directly on the wound. His gaze remained on the sleen’s face. “You gave me your trust. I won’t spend it foolishly.” He gently examined the paw, searching for anything embedded, broken, or badly swollen. “And after I see what you’ve done to yourself…” The corner of his mouth lifted. “…we’ll discuss that collar.” he would look about himself seeing there was fresh water. “Now I first need to clean your fur to truly see how bad it is.” he would again move slowly. Building trust was to allow the animal to see what he did and to read the intentions behind it.
[02:48:50] Kazoo grunted, a sharp hiss escaping him when Crow took the offered paw and began examining it. Pain was hardly new to the sleen, but allowing someone close enough to find its cause certainly was. His head remained low, eyes following every movement of Crow’s hands while a warning growl vibrated steadily in his throat. The sight of the dart earlier stirred older memories of being owned, handled and caged. Kazoo shook his great head irritably, making the tight collar shift beneath his fur and that strange little compartment attached to it knock softly against his neck. A fly chose that moment to buzz past his nose and his jaws snapped after it with a vicious crack before his attention immediately returned to Crow. The paw was swollen and tender. Whether it had come from the fight with Hecate, striking the stalls, or something else entirely was lost somewhere in the blur. Since escaping that cage on the wrecked ship, Kazoo had done little more than survive as he had for many years before it. When Crow’s fingers found a particularly sore place, the paw jerked instinctively in his grasp and Kazoo’s lips peeled back from his fangs. Yet he didn’t bite. Instead, after a moment, he reluctantly offered the paw again, watching Crow closely as if to say he had exactly one more chance.
[02:57:22] Crow (melchior.wardell) felt the paw jerk beneath his fingers and immediately eased the pressure, making no attempt to hold it in place. The flash of teeth earned only a calm glance.“There.” His voice remained quiet. “I found it.” He waited as Kazoo reluctantly offered the paw again, then resumed his examination more gently, working around the swelling rather than forcing the sore point. “Bruised. Swollen. I don’t feel a break.” His thumb moved carefully along the limb, testing the joints one at a time.“You’ve been walking on this far too long.” He glanced briefly toward the collar as it shifted beneath the fur, the small compartment making a faint sound against the metal. His attention returned to Kazoo. “And you’ve been carrying that for longer than you’ve been carrying this injury.” He released the paw rather than keeping hold of it. “One problem at a time.” A faint smirk. “Today, we start with the leg.” He reached for the clean cloth, leaving the dart completely untouched.“You didn’t bite me. I’ll consider that progress.” with the wet cloth he slowly started to clean the fur so he could see if the pain was still from a wound that still needed to be closed.
[03:09:56] Kazoo watched Crow release the paw and gave a low grunt, almost approving of the fact the man hadn’t tried to hold him. Progress worked both ways, apparently. When the wet cloth approached, Kazoo immediately lowered his head, nostrils flaring as a growl began again, but he kept the paw where it was. The first touch made his muscles tense. As Crow cleaned away the dirt and dried blood tangled through the fur, the cause became clearer. A cut ran across the thick pad of the paw, not terribly deep but angry and swollen from being walked upon, and buried near one edge was a small splinter of wood. Kazoo hissed when the cloth passed over it and his jaws opened threateningly, head turning toward Crow’s hand. Still, he didn’t bite. Not yet. Instead his claws dug into the ground and he endured another pass of the cloth before giving Crow a look that suggested his patience was not limitless. His head shook again, making the little compartment upon his collar rattle against the metal. That seemed to irritate him almost as much as the paw did. He snapped uselessly toward his own neck before settling again with a disgruntled huff. Crow had been permitted to find the problem. Fixing it, however, might require considerably more negotiation.
[03:16:49] Crow (melchior.wardell) ‘s attention settled on the exposed cut, his fingers pausing when he spotted the small splinter lodged near the edge of the pad. “There you are.” He glanced briefly at Kazoo’s bared teeth. “I’m going to remove that.” His tone remained calm, almost conversational. “You may object. I would be disappointed if you didn’t.” He reached for a pair of clean tweezers, keeping his movements slow and visible. He waited a moment, allowing Kazoo to see exactly what he intended to do. “No dart. No cage.” His gaze met the sleen’s. “Just the splinter.” He carefully positioned the tweezers near the wood. “And if you behave, I’ll even pretend you weren’t threatening to eat me five Ihn ago.” It was in the sleens advantage that crow was a man of precision and a razor sharp focus. His work with tools was on point as long at the animal wouldn’t jerk his paw back. “I wonder if you have a name …” he mused. For some reason he liked to call his animals by their given name.
[03:23:50] Kazoo let out a yowl and a hiss at him. Words were one thing, obience… allowing him this close to see…. but taking it out? whatever it was? He’d tried several times himself. Licking, poking with teeth. Nothing worked. PErhaps he needed this human to help. But that was it. After that they were done. Once he wasn’t in pain, he wouldn’t stay or trust. Those cages, that feeling of being trapped again was something kazoo just didn’t want. Of course there was the collar too. Again it was too tight even though it moved around. Perhaps his skin below was even sore from wearing it so long. Perhaps he would allow…. A growl again and he lowered his head – fangs still presented but a little more accepting of the fact that the man was helping. For now.
[03:29:35] Crow (melchior.wardell) watched the change in the beast carefully. The fangs remained, the growl remained, but Kazoo had lowered his head. That was enough. “Good.” He waited another moment before bringing the tweezers toward the paw again, keeping his movements slow and deliberate. “I know.” His voice was quiet. “You don’t like this. Neither would I.” He gently caught the splinter and began to draw it free, stopping immediately when Kazoo tensed too sharply. “Almost.” A final careful pull removed the piece of wood. He held it up briefly between the tweezers. “There.” He set it aside and cleaned the wound again, inspecting the pad before releasing the paw completely. “No cage.” His eyes moved toward the collar as it rattled beneath the fur. “And I haven’t forgotten that either.” He rose slowly, giving Kazoo space. “One thing at a time, beast.” A faint smirk. “You let me help with that too?” it was a question while he would see if the wound needed anything more.
[03:35:09] Kazoo would snarl loudly as the tweezers caught on the piece of wood in his paw. Pain etched on Kazoo’s face. Every muscle in his body was ready to pounce, flee or… attack. But he kept himself from doing so. Somehow he knew the man was trying to help. For a second he remembered the kind person who had found him as a pup in the wild. Raised him. looked after him. A flicker of this would be seen in his eyes. For a moment. He heard the word Cage too… it wasn’t passed over…. but it came with a No before it so he knew the two words together meant exactly that. He gave them a stare anyhow just in case and nudged Crow. He was trying to tell him that he wanted the collar off in his way. Whether he stayed afterwards was quite a different question.
[03:41:29] Crow (melchior.wardell) felt the nudge and looked down at Kazoo. The meaning was clear enough, even without words. After ensuring the paw needed nothing further. He would release the paw. His gaze settled on the old collar beneath the thick fur. “So that is what you want.” He crouched again, but made no immediate attempt to touch it. He studied the collar carefully, noting how tightly it sat against the beast’s neck and the way the small compartment shifted with every movement. “You’ve made one thing very clear.” His hand lowered slowly, stopping short of the metal. “You don’t want another cage.And you don’t want that collar either.” He looked into Kazoo’s eyes. “I can remove it. But I need to know what is beneath it first. If it has been there long enough, I won’t simply tear it away and risk hurting you.” He let his hand fall back. “You trusted me with the paw.” A faint smile was given with an almost apologetic smile. “Perhaps we can make that two things.”
[03:48:08] Kazoo stared at Crow for several Ihn, the growl still there but quieter now. His paw had hurt and the man had made it hurt more… then somehow less. Kazoo understood that much. When Crow’s attention moved to the collar, the sleen’s head followed his gaze before he shook himself violently, making the little compartment rattle once more. He hated that sound. Hated the weight around his neck. Slowly, almost reluctantly, Kazoo lowered his great head toward Crow and stretched his neck forward. It was an unusual position for the beast, exposing himself where normally he would protect his throat at all costs. A warning rumble reminded Crow not to mistake trust for submission. As the thick fur parted around the collar, it became obvious just how long it had been there. The metal sat far too tightly against his neck, almost buried beneath the fur. Beneath it the skin was red and rubbed raw, patches of fur worn thin or missing entirely where years of movement had caused the collar to chafe. Kazoo gave a small hiss as it shifted against the soreness, then nudged Crow’s hand toward it with his muzzle. Off. Whatever the man intended, that seemed to be the one thing Kazoo wanted him to understand. His eyes remained fixed upon Crow as he held himself unnaturally still, though the tips of his fangs remained visible. The paw had earned the man this much trust. What Crow did with it would decide what happened next.
[03:54:12] Crow (melchior.wardell) studied the exposed neck in silence. The condition of the skin beneath the collar told him more than Kazoo ever could have. His fingers hovered near the metal, but he did not touch it yet. “You’ve had this on a long time. Too long.” His voice was quieter now. He carefully examined the fastening, the raw skin, and the small compartment attached to it. He understood why the beast wanted it gone. “Alright.” He looked directly into Kazoo’s eyes. “Off.” Slowly, he reached for the collar, making certain Kazoo could see every movement. He would try to see if the collar was locked in a manner he could undo by hand or if it needed more tools. The last option he feared as he could see the skin already injured by simply wearing it. “Hold still. You gave me permission.” His hand settled carefully against the collar. “I won’t waste it.”
[04:00:03] Kazoo grunted, the low hiss and growl continuing as warnings even though his options were becoming rather limited. One word Crow spoke was understood perfectly. Off. Kazoo shifted his head to one side, exposing more of his neck and, if Crow looked closely, just beside the small compartment was a tiny lock that had kept the collar secured all these years. The movement caused the compartment to knock against him again and Kazoo snuffled angrily as its edge struck one of the bare, raw patches of skin beneath. This time the little compartment battered open. Kazoo froze. Inside, tightly protected from the elements, was a small rolled scroll and beneath it an old piece of rag, worn and faded with age. His head immediately twisted toward Crow’s hand, lips lifting instinctively as though suddenly uncertain whether he wanted the man anywhere near those things. Yet he stopped himself from snapping. Instead his head lowered again and he gave a deep, unhappy rumble, eyes fixed upon Crow. The collar could come off. Apparent whatever secrets it carried were coming with it.
[04:07:56] Crow (melchior.wardell) ‘s hand stopped the instant the compartment sprang open. His eyes went to the tiny scroll first, then the faded scrap of cloth beneath it. The collar could wait for a moment. Whatever had been hidden there had survived years of wear, water, and whatever life Kazoo had endured. Crow noticed the sudden uncertainty in the sleen’s eyes. “I see.” He did not reach for the contents. Instead, he carefully steadied the opened compartment with one hand, keeping the other well away from the scroll. “These belong to you.” His gaze returned to Kazoo. “I won’t take them.”Only then did he examine the tiny lock more closely. “But that collar… That comes off.” He produced a small tool from his pouch and began working carefully at the old fastening, taking particular care not to press the metal against the raw skin. “No cages. No dart. And apparently, no taking your secrets.” He worked patiently at the lock. “Just getting this damned thing off your neck.”
[04:13:35] Kazoo remained unnaturally still while Crow worked at the lock, though every scrape of the tool against metal brought another low rumble from his chest. The opened compartment shifted beneath Crow’s fingers and the little scroll loosened enough to reveal old writing upon it. One word remained clearly marked despite its age. Kazoo. At the movement of the compartment, the scrap of cloth beneath slipped partly free as well. It was old and weathered, stained dark with dried blood. The instant it was exposed, Kazoo’s nostrils flared. His entire body stiffened. That scent. Old now, faint beneath salt, metal and years trapped inside the collar, but known. His head jerked toward the cloth and he snuffled at it urgently, drawing the scent deep. For a moment the pit seemed forgotten. There was only water. Broken timber. The wreck. And somewhere amongst it, that scent. The same blood that had lingered around the shattered remains of the ship. Kazoo gave a strange, frustrated whine before it twisted back into a growl, his muzzle nudging toward the cloth but not taking it. Then his attention returned to Crow and the tool at his neck. He lowered his head again, allowing him to continue, though his six-legged body remained tense. The man knew something now that he hadn’t before. Kazoo had a name.
[04:22:26] Crow (melchior.wardell) ‘s movements slowed as the single word became visible. Kazoo. His eyes remained on the writing for several Ihn before shifting toward the faded cloth. The beast’s reaction to it had not gone unnoticed. “Your name.” He said it quietly, almost as though confirming something rather than asking. His gaze returned to the cloth, then to Kazoo. “And that…” He left the sentence unfinished. Carefully, he continued working the old lock, refusing to rush despite the sleen’s tension. At last there was a soft metallic click. He steadied the collar before allowing it to loosen, making sure the metal did not scrape across the raw skin. “There.” He slowly lifted the loosened collar away from Kazoo’s neck. His eyes settled once more on the old scrap of bloodstained cloth. “You remember that scent.” It wasn’t a question. He did not touch the cloth. Instead, he left it where it had fallen, allowing Kazoo to decide what to do with it. Then he looked at the old scroll again. “Kazoo.” A faint crease formed between his brows. “Now we find out who gave you that name.”
[04:30:40] Kazoo ‘s ears flattened at the sound of that name. Kazoo. Something buried deep stirred at it, a name almost forgotten beneath years of instinct and survival. He had come aboard that ship anything but tame, transported in a cage because those who had captured him knew better than to trust him loose. He remembered fighting them. Teeth against bars. Men shouting. Darts buried in his hide until his legs would no longer obey him. Then came the click. The collar loosened and, for the first time in longer than the beast could understand, its weight disappeared from his neck. Kazoo immediately shook himself violently, six legs shifting beneath him as though testing this strange new freedom. He scratched once at the raw skin before beginning to back toward the gate, his eyes never leaving Crow. The man had helped him. Kazoo understood that much. But help was not ownership, and without pain in his paw or metal around his throat, there was suddenly very little keeping him here. The bloodstained rag remained where it had fallen, carrying its silent link back to the wreck, while the scroll held one secret Crow had yet to discover. On its other side was another name: the person who had once owned Kazoo long ago. A person now dead. Kazoo gave Crow one final low rumble, no longer quite a threat but certainly no promise either, before edging closer to the gate. No cage. No collar. No owner. For the first time in a very long while, the sleen could simply choose where he went next.
[04:37:01] Crow (melchior.wardell) watched Kazoo begin to retreat toward the gate, but made no move to stop him. For a moment, he simply looked at the beast. No collar. No cage. Freedom. His gaze shifted to the open compartment and the faded cloth, then back to Kazoo. “You’re free to go.” He crouched and carefully retrieved the old scroll, keeping the bloodstained rag where it lay. “But before you decide to disappear…” He turned the scroll slightly in his fingers, noticing the writing on the reverse. “I think you should know something.” His eyes lifted toward the sleen. “I know your name. And now I may know who gave it to you.” He did not open it further yet. “You’ve earned the right to hear what it says.” He stepped away from the gate, deliberately leaving the path unobstructed. “No collar. No cage. Your choice.” A faint, thoughtful expression crossed his face. “But if you stay… prhaps we can find out what happened to the one who owned you.” He knew trust wasn’t earned overnight and yet he was certain the animal knew too that survival on his own was hard. It would be hunted, chased away, every day a difficult life as it was no longer fed but in search for its next meal.”Perhaps in time you might even see the benefits of remaining and who knows once you will trust me enough to place a well fitted collar that bares my sigil to warn those that wish to harm you.”
[04:44:09] Kazoo stopped near the gate. One more step and there was nothing between him and freedom, yet the sleen did not take it. His head turned slowly back toward Crow, ears twitching at the familiar sounds amongst all those words. His name. Stay. Collar. That last one earned an immediate growl, his lips lifting enough to show exactly what Kazoo thought of ever wearing another one. But he did not leave. The beast looked beyond the gate for several Ihn, nostrils working at the air. He knew what waited out there because he had already lived it. Since losing the one who had once cared for him there had been hunger, hunting and being hunted. Then the ship. Capture. Bars. Pain. Darts that stole his senses and left him waking helpless inside a cage. Here there was food. Water. Straw. No bars around him now, and the man had removed the thing that had hurt his neck instead of replacing it. Kazoo turned away from the gate with a disgruntled snort and prowled several paces back into the training area, though deliberately not toward Crow. He lowered himself onto the ground and began licking at his injured paw as though the decision had absolutely nothing to do with anything the man had said. He would stay. For now. Not because he belonged here, and certainly not because Crow had mentioned another collar. Food, water and shelter simply made considerably more sense than wandering off recovering. Tomorrow, Kazoo might decide differently.
[04:49:19] Crow (melchior.wardell) remained quiet as Kazoo turned back into the training area. He watched the beast settle and begin tending to his paw, making no comment about the choice. There was no need to. He understood what had just happened. He lowered his gaze to the scroll in his hand, then carefully rolled it closed again. “Wise.” The word was directed toward Kazoo, though he did not expect a response. He placed the scroll and the bloodstained rag carefully in one of his pockets on his belt. He would take up the old open collar. “You’re right. You don’t belong to me.And I won’t pretend otherwise.” He stepped back, giving the sleen the space he clearly valued. “But you can stay. Eat. Sleep. Heal.” He turned away, leaving Kazoo undisturbed. “For today, that is enough.”
[12:15:33] Crow (melchior.wardell) took Hecate through her usual daily walk, allowing the great sleen to set a comfortable pace rather than pushing her. She had been fed beforehand, so there was little reason for hunger to dictate her behaviour today. That, however, did not mean he stopped watching her. Every so often he slowed, calling her closer with a quiet gesture. “Here.” He ran his eyes over her coat, inspecting rather than merely admiring it. He checked the fur along her flanks, shoulders and belly for anything caught, matted or out of place. A few fingers moved carefully through the thicker fur, searching for burrs, dried blood, scratches or the telltale stiffness of an injury hidden beneath a healthy-looking coat.
[12:17:12] Oriana Candace Mishin (heavenlyurt.mother) slowly nears looking at the beast and man” eh tal”
[12:18:07] Hecate allowed such hands too seek in her fur as she idled next to Crow, burs were indeed there but no new wounds. Her massive head turned towards Crow and looking to him with a low grumble rippling through her. A noise of contentment which was rare for the creature to show more than Crow. However as someone neared she slowly turned her massive head, revealing her fags. For now she was intently watching the woman.
[12:18:26] Crow (melchior.wardell) would wave his hand galantly “You can pass, lady. I will ensure nothing will happen.”he promised positioning himself between her and the sleen. “She is well trained. Although any owner will say – that she has never done something like that before.”
[12:20:27] Oriana Candace Mishin (heavenlyurt.mother) stepped back. she knew what the creature was and was happy to shower. the smell of the forest surely was off of her” eh ye yes sir” she stepped back” I eh will go back into the the city I think perhaps….” she looked away despite the veil covering her face. she looked uncomfortable and nervous. she kept stepping back some times stealing a glance at the two
[12:22:49] Hecate gave a low grumble before she pressed her head against Crow lightly. Her nostrils flaring as the scent of something caused her attention to be caught. Her tail twitching behind herself before she gave a singular flat warning, a deep rippling noise. Should something come at her from behind it would be met in turn with a not so gentle retaliation.
[12:26:06] Kazoo had been hiding. Ever since Brokk had decided to use him as his own personal riding beast, venturing back into the city had seemed like an exceptionally bad idea. He’d managed to survive for a few days on little urts and whatever else he could catch, even wandering down to the water to snatch a few fish. But fish and urts only went so far. He needed something more substantial. Something meaty. Preferably something with bones he could gnaw on for a few days.
Hunger eventually won out over common sense, and the sleen slunk cautiously back up the steps toward the city. He was still a little shaken from being slammed into that damned wall down here, and every few steps came with a suspicious glance around, just in case Brokk—or worse—was lurking nearby.
Still, he’d gotten rid of the thrall.
So… bonus.
[12:26:51] Crow (melchior.wardell) noticed Hecate’s change before he gave any attention to the woman’s retreat. The low grumble against his side, followed by that singular warning note, made his posture still. His hand lowered briefly, fingers brushing along Hecate’s neck. “Easy.” Not a command to relax completely. A reminder to hold. His eyes moved past Oriana toward whatever had caught the sleen’s scent. He did not turn his back on it. He shifted half a step, placing himself between Hecate and the direction behind them, while keeping the animal from advancing. “Stay.” His eyes narrowed as he studied the sleen. Perhaps somewhat smaller than Hecate, but still an animal to reckon with. “You’ve been nervous since you approached us,” he said to Oriana, his tone matter-of-fact rather than accusing. “Now be smart and do not make any sudden movements.” he cautioned.
[12:29:14] Oriana Candace Mishin (heavenlyurt.mother) frowned and stood still not moving once she looked their way again. she gulped as a look of concern now showed on her eyes. she seen the other one”I I s so ma many things I ha havent do done ye yet” she whimpered lowly. she slowly moved her hand behind her back and the other to her chest VERY slowly afraid that the sleen may see them as snacks.
[12:34:22] Hecate gave a low warning growl once more before she settled under the hand of Crow, to a point where she wouldn’t attack right off the bat. Her teeth flickered, her tail lashed slightly and then she calmed. Relaxing and giving a grumble. She kneeded the ground with frustration but accepted that she was not to attack whatever was coming behind her. Yet her eyes turned towards the woman in a warning manner as not to try any tricks!
[12:41:32] Kazoo The sleen slunk slowly up the steps, belly low, his six-legged gait carrying him forward with an unsettling, almost serpentine smoothness. Six sets of claws clicked against the stone before suddenly going quiet as he stopped. His broad snout lifted, nostrils flaring as he tasted the air. People. His lips peeled slowly back from his teeth. Oh, he’d missed people. Then came another scent. Sleen. A deep, ugly rumble rolled through his chest as he crept higher, His head appeared above the final step first, cold eyes surveying those gathered there while the rest of his long body followed. His attention settled upon the other sleen, then drifted toward the person there around it. His tail gave one slow, deliberate lash. This looked promising.
[12:48:50] Crow (melchior.wardell) ‘s hand settled lightly against Hecate’s neck. He looked toward Oriana then, noticing the fear in her eyes. “Don’t run.” The words were quiet, almost conversational. “Running is likely to make this considerably more interesting than it needs to be.” He felt the tension ease beneath his hand as Hecate finally accepted the command. The flicker of teeth and lash of her tail earned only a calm stroke along the side of her neck. “Good girl.”His eyes narrowed as he studied Kazoo’s approach, taking in the six legs, the low posture, the deliberate tail movement and, most importantly, Hecate’s reaction. He shifted his stance just enough to put himself more towards Oriana rather than directly between the two animals, keeping a clear line of sight to both. “Well.” His gaze remained on Kazoo. “Apparently Avarra has acquired another hunter.” The corner of his mouth twitched faintly. “And judging by that expression, this one has considerably less interest in being polite.” His attention returned to the two sleen. “Let them decide what they think of one another.” he moved slowly towards Oriana. “I’d rather not spend the afternoon explaining to Neeve why her infirmary has acquired another patient.”
[12:52:02] Oriana Candace Mishin (heavenlyurt.mother) frowned and would calmly and slowly walk towards the man. she would hide behind him but give him enough room to draw on the beast should he need to. she was afraid more of the beast then him at this point since he is the only one who could save her. as she walked over she kept her eyes on them both watching closely. once she got behind him” sir what is this…why so many sleen things…like…eh are you a sleen over or something” she pauced to think about her words” eh sleen keeper…you know” she mumbled lowly in a fearful innocent tone
[12:56:39] Hecate turned upon the other sleen. Letting out a bassy rumble from the female as fangs revealed. A grumple and a hiss and claws digging into the ground, she skirted around and placed herself between her and crow, front feet lifting up and then slamming down in a dramatic warning. Her tail lashed once, a hiss coming from her before she calmed down. Her warning was clear ‘this human is mine’ and with that she stared at the other. There was enough room for him to get past but also she herself was showing that she wasn’t moving. But he could get past her.
[13:03:54] Kazoo watched the female sleen place herself between him and the human, his head lowering as her warning was answered with a deep, vicious rumble of his own. Oh, she wanted to play. His lips peeled back, exposing his fangs, and for several heartbeats he remained utterly still before suddenly launching himself forward. Six powerful legs tore across the ground as he charged straight at Hecate, jaws snapping viciously as though he fully intended to barrel into her. At the last possible moment, however, something caught his nose. Meat. His charge faltered, head jerking sharply toward the city square as his nostrils flared. Meat. Lots of meat. Whatever murderous thoughts had occupied his sleen brain were abruptly replaced by considerably tastier ones. With a final snapping of his jaws toward Hecate, Kazoo veered past her and tore toward the square, claws scrabbling against the stone. Someone, somewhere, had a meat market… and Kazoo had absolutely no intention of paying.
[13:07:11] Crow (melchior.wardell) ‘s eyes flicked briefly toward Oriana as she slipped behind him, then immediately returned to the two sleen. He made no move to draw a weapon. The last thing he wanted was a blade entering a confrontation that, for the moment, remained a warning exchange. He watched the charge abruptly become something considerably less murderous. He stared after the fleeing sleen for a heartbeat. Then another. He slowly exhaled.“Well. That was disappointing.” he would give signal to Hecate to follow the animal and herd it if she was able. To Oriana “I fear I need to see what this animal is up too. There is still a mystery to solve.”
[13:09:04] Oriana Candace Mishin (heavenlyurt.mother) slowly nodded to him, she didn’t do much or say much since she felt I dangered” ye yes sir, I thi think ill leave thi this city now” she said knowing the sleen was gonna rampage. she would not wish to risk her life
[13:09:24] Hecate stamped her feet. She was not in the mood, the large female chuffing and baring her teeth in blatant warning before she shook her furred body. However as the male ran towards her she papared to snap back at him. Only to see the command from crow as the other veered off. She was after him in a heart beat, the female larger than normal sleens chasing after and intent on hounding the other sleen to rope him back towards the killer. She was a hunter and so was he. It would be a battle of wits now. And with that she chased, six paws, thudding silently after the other. As silently as one could be for her size. She darted past Oriana without a second glance. [13:10:31] zCS # [Roll] IRunOnCoffee Resident rolled 68 (100).
[13:16:12] Kazoo burst into the square like a small furry catastrophe, skidding toward the meat stalls with an eager snort. His nose plunged toward the nearest slab before he immediately recoiled, lips curling in disgust. Rotten. Stale. Barely worth feeding to an urt. He let out an offended hiss, glaring at the butcher’s wares as though personally insulted. Then another scent rolled in behind him. Sleen. His head snapped around, cold eyes locking onto Hecate as she closed the distance. The meat was forgotten in an instant. With a savage roar, and a flick of his tail at the stalls beside him, at least damanging them or possibly even making the wares go flying, Kazoo wheeled and launched himself at her again, six legs driving him forward as snapping jaws aimed for her shoulder. ((2 rolls: 1 for the damage to the stalls: 0-49 just some wood or supports falling, 50- 100 for the whole thing to tumble. Then to attack Hecate. ;D))
[13:19:54] Hecate saw the other sleen attacking the food before she growled her deep rumbling warning as she came in full force. Her paws slamming on the ground before she launched herself up towards the side of the building, avoiding him as he locked eyes with her. Her fangs bared and her teeth gnashing in alert as she dodged to the side, avoiding the attack before she stuck out at his hid quarters, trying to snap the sleen to attention and herd him away from the food and into a more containable area. An Area she could block off so he could be caught.
[13:21:11] Crow (melchior.wardell) ‘s followed at a measured pace, Hecate moving before him. He had no need to hurry. As he reached the stalls, he spotted Kazoo immediately. His gaze moved over the scene, taking in the meat laid out, the two sleen, and the inevitable potential for chaos. He sighed quietly. “Of course.” His hand went to his belt and drew the whip, letting the coils hang loosely from his hand. He did not crack it. The weapon was there for one purpose: to give his commands something behind them should either animal decide that the market belonged to them.
[13:25:31] Kazoo snarled as Hecate’s teeth caught his hindquarters, the bite wrenching a furious yelp from him and sending him stumbling sideways into the nearest stall. Wood cracked beneath his weight, sending baskets, meat and half the display crashing across the stones. Pain only seemed to make Kazoo considerably less reasonable. Twisting with frightening speed, he launched himself back at Hecate, jaws snapping for the thick skin along her neck and shoulder as his weight drove forward. Whether he caught her or not, six flailing legs and one thoroughly enraged sleen were apparently enough to try to finish what he’d started. Another stall toppled as his hind legs smashed through its supports, a table overturned, and several baskets went rolling merrily across the square. Somewhere beneath the snarling, snapping chaos, Kazoo caught sight of Crow’s whip. His eyes narrowed. Oh, he remembered them. That only seemed to make him angrier.
[13:28:34] Hecate turned at Kazoo as he reacted to her slap against his hind quarters, her teeth bared her fur on end. She was angry. She was intense. Her eyes flared in anger as he snapped at her neck. Her paws reaching out to slam back at the sleen as she saw him eying crow. Her own fangs sought to seek his neck and if successful she’d try to drive him into the ground. Trying to hold him there as she hissed and growled. What turned out to originally being hearding, had turned into an all out brawl she was trying to keep away from the delicate humanoids. Lest she break the one that commanded her.
[13:31:24] Crow (melchior.wardell) ‘s expression hardened as the market erupted into splintering wood, overturned baskets and snarling fur. His attention snapped to Hecate as Kazoo twisted back toward her, jaws seeking her neck. “HECATE. BACK.” The command cracked across the square. He didn’t want to loose his own sleen over an animal that was traumatized and in hunger and perhaps pain. He stepped forward, whip already uncoiling in his hand. He did not strike yet. The first priority was to break the momentum before the fight became a killing struggle. “ENOUGH!” he called out in an attempt to not have it escalate. His keen eyes searching for a way to capture the animal without being pulled right through the city as the thrall had been.
[13:38:45] Kazoo twisted viciously beneath Hecate’s attack, using the chaos to wrench himself free as Crow’s command thundered across the square. Then his eyes locked upon the man. Kazoo charged. Six legs hammered across the stones, claws scraping for purchase as he barreled straight toward Crow, only to suddenly skid to a halt directly at his feet. For one strange moment, the sleen simply stared up at him. Silent. Still. Almost as though somewhere inside that malicious little skull, a moment of clarity had finally arrived. Perhaps he remembered he or the whip. Perhaps he understood the command. Perhaps there was hope after all. His head even tilted slightly. Then his lips peeled back. Nope. With a vicious snarl, Kazoo lunged upward, jaws snapping for Crow’s arm as his forelegs came up with him, claws seeking anything they could catch.
[13:39:48] Hecate heard the roar of enough from Crow, the tone, and the whip causing her to lunge backwards away from the other creature. Spinning about and facing her hind quarters to him for a split second before she herself tugged off towards her handler, stalking at the rim of the outside. The fight had gotten messy, though she had avoided injury she did not wish to get killed either. Instinct of survival kicking in as she growled at a distance. Her posture defensive instead of aggressive this time! Yet the second that Kazoo lunged for Crow she snapped at him. Trying to grab a leg and topple the other sleen before Crow could be bitten. Without getting in another straight out attack.
[13:45:48] Crow (melchior.wardell) saw the lunge coming. His arm pulled back instinctively as Kazoo’s jaws snapped upward, while Hecate’s sudden counter from the side disrupted the charge. Crow stepped sharply back, putting distance between himself and the snapping jaws, the whip already moving through his hand. He could not completely avoid the sharpness of the fangs and felt it rip through skin of his hand. “NO.” he called out. He was a man that had lived his life always dangerously and he knew that in these moments it would matter to remain focused. The word was directed at both sleen. He gave Hecate a sharp gesture toward him. “Back. Stay.” He ignored the sharpness of the pain and considered the moment he would tell Neeve about the loss of limbs. “You are hungry … and yet you want to bite the hand that can feed you?” his words were calm once more as if to sooth the animal that was not designed to simply attack without reason. He head seen it previous. It only played or felt cornered. It wasn’t a merciless murderer unlike himself. “I am beginning to think manners are beyond you.” He kept the whip ready, watching Kazoo’s shoulders, jaws and feet rather than the threat of the teeth alone. He would use it but only in a last resort. He was a reasonable trainer and kept his animals well.
[13:55:47] Kazoo felt his fangs catch flesh before Crow pulled away, the taste of blood bringing a low, satisfied rumble from deep in Kazoo’s chest. Hecate’s attempt to catch his leg barely registered, but that single, sharp “NO” did. His head snapped toward Crow, body tensing as though another attack might follow. Yet it didn’t. The man stood his ground, whip ready but unused, his voice calm despite the blood on his hand. Kazoo stared at him, nostrils flaring as he scented the blood and studied his posture. Something in that tone was familiar—not the man himself, but the authority behind it. The authority of one accustomed to commanding sleen. Slowly, reluctantly, Kazoo’s belly lowered to the stones, six legs folding beneath him as his ears flattened back. His lips still twitched around exposed fangs, and a disgruntled growl rumbled in his throat. Submission, perhaps… but manners were definitely still beyond him. If Crow were to try and collar the beast, however, that would be another matter entirely. Buried deep beneath the thick fur around Kazoo’s neck was already an old, badly worn collar, fitted tightly enough that it might easily have gone unnoticed. Age had dulled its surface, though there were faint signs that it had once belonged to someone—or somewhere. More curious still was a tiny compartment worked into the collar itself, its purpose impossible to tell without examining it more closely. Perhaps the beast had not always been quite as wild as he appeared.
[13:56:43] Hecate hissed as she was called back once more. She could smell the blood and revealed her fangs. Her attempt to get involved failing and now she backed up. Her legs shifting to put her in a couch as she didn’t get involved again, her fangs bared but she stayed back no matter what until the next command. Normally well behaved ‘to a point’ this was a testing trial for her. Those golden eyes locked upon the other sleen. However for now she waited, biding her time. And clearly disgruntled with the whole situation as messy fur stood upon end. However as Kazoo calmed so too did she. Starting to settle as the feral hisses quieted down.
[14:05:37] Crow (melchior.wardell) did not move immediately. The blood on his arm was noted, but it was the sudden change in Kazoo that held his attention. The beast had lowered itself, the rage still present but contained. Crow kept the whip ready, though he made no attempt to use it. “Better.” His eyes remained fixed on Kazoo. “Stay there.” Then he glanced toward Hecate. Her fur was standing along her back, but she had obeyed and withdrawn. “Good girl. Stay.” Only then did he look down at his arm, briefly inspecting the bite. It was superficial enough to wait. His attention returned to Kazoo almost immediately. Something about the collar caught his eye. Crow narrowed his gaze. “Well.” He did not approach yet. Instead, he studied the worn band around the sleen’s neck, noticing the age of it and the small compartment worked into the material. “You’ve been wearing that for some time.” His voice remained calm. “So you’re not quite the wild creature you were pretending to be.” A slight tilt of his head. He lowered the whip slightly, but did not put it away. “Who owned you clearly lost you. So with that … we need you fed and cared for.” he sighed.”and with that .. how much do I owe the butcher?” he stated – a sign of his dark sense of humor. “Hecate, let us bring this one out of the city so we can see how to have it eased and cared for.” he would allow Hecate to correct the animal, but only when Kazoo gave indication not to comply.
[14:11:56] Kazoo remained low, watching Crow with cold, calculating eyes as the man’s attention lingered upon the old collar buried beneath his fur. At the word “owned,” Kazoo’s lips twitched back from his fangs and a low growl vibrated through him. Apparently that particular subject was unpopular. Still, when Crow indicated they were leaving, the sleen understood well enough. He unfolded his six legs and rose, giving himself a violent shake that sent dust, bits of market debris and possibly someone’s dinner flying from his fur. His nose lifted toward Crow’s bleeding hand for one long, interested sniff before his tongue slid across his jaws. Tempting. Very tempting. But the promise of food won—for now. Kazoo began moving in the indicated direction, though as he passed Hecate he deliberately bumped his shoulder hard against hers, tail lashing as he continued onward. Obedient, perhaps. Sorry? Absolutely not. As Kazoo moved, the old collar shifted beneath his fur, briefly exposing the tiny compartment Crow had noticed earlier. Its fastening was worn and slightly loose, enough that the edge of something pale could just be seen trapped beneath it before the fur fell back into place.
[14:14:30] Hecate rumbled, seeing the other sleen submitting for now she chuffed. She heard the words from crow and gave him a sleen style hiss as though accepting his words as she fleebit her leg for a moment. Eyes locked upon the two before she raised her large head. Shaking her fluffed body. Only to feel the hard run in against her shoulder. Snarling once but not attacking as she went to follow after, guiding the other sleen in her own manner. Trailing after and cutting off escape routes as she let him think he had the upper hand. However with a curious glance back to crow she continued on, herding the other sleen but also being careful. Lest another scrap broke out.
[14:19:10] Crow (melchior.wardell) knew he captain well and was grateful it didn’t ask to many questions as he boarded the ship not with one but two sleens. He kept a close look upon Kazoo as he was unsure of it’s behavior. But his voice was calm and soothing. Not only the promise of a meal but also care. Not that he treated them as pets, they were still wild and dangerous. But they received respect as long as that was mutual. He tossed a coin to the captain and paid little to no mind to the women.
[14:28:50] Kazoo had found himself a snack somewhere between the market and the ship, carrying the questionable lump of meat proudly between his jaws as though he’d personally hunted it rather than stolen it. The journey itself earned several unhappy growls, but the moment his six paws touched unfamiliar ground, Kazoo stopped. The meat dropped forgotten between his feet as his head lifted high, nostrils working furiously. New land. New scents. New people. His eyes narrowed as he tasted the air, taking a few slow steps before glancing back toward Crow and Hecate. Whatever authority Crow had managed to establish was apparently holding—for now. Kazoo lowered his head, retrieved his stolen prize and followed, though his eyes continually swept their surroundings for anything interesting enough to bite. Beneath his thick fur, the worn collar shifted again, the loose edge of its tiny compartment briefly catching against the fur before disappearing beneath it once more.
[14:32:06] Crow (melchior.wardell) presented the three sleens with three cages. In them there were Tabuk. Alive and very willing to leave the cages if he would allow them too. He would position himself so he wouldn’t step inbetween. “Feed.” he would tell them while he would spring the opening so the tabuk could escape. Allowing them their hunt and prey.
