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hunger for the flesh (o)
Topic Started: Dec 8 2012, 11:38 AM (192 Views)
Lunar Dementia
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Grimly Fiendish
[ *  *  * ]
In the darkness of a cold stone cell, a man lay huddled on the floor. Knees draw up to his chest and arms wrapped around his head. It was cold within the small room and the only light was the glow of that coming from the ice city outside the tiny window. Night had fallen, although it was something difficult to know in this place beneath the glacier. One could always tell by the coming sounds of things scratching at the walls and bestial grunts echoing softly through tunnels. They were coming.

The rag covered man stirred and slowly stood with jerky movements that suggested he had not moved in some time. Sore joints and tight muscles ate away at his natural grace. Dark shaggy hair fell to his shoulders and as moved to the window, the weak light revealed an untidy beard upon his face. Beneath the hair, his features were gaunt, skin pulled tight over bone. But his eyes...they shone silver in the light and gleamed like a wild animal of which darkness does not affect. They burned with a fever as he stood upon toes and pressed his face to the icy bars of the window and inhaled. The man inhaled with such depth that he could taste the true night from above, the scent of freedom and expanse. Room to run...room to roam. His body shook with such thoughts but he shoved them down and kept his face impassive as he inhaled again.

Something scrapped the stone not far off and he could hear a huffing breath. In the distance something howled out it's presence for all to hear and praise. Throwing back his own head, his rough voice erupted in a howl that cried of sorrow and desperation. Were it not for nights like this where he could all but feel the world he called his past outside, he would have lost his sanity. It was still up for debate that he had not.

Metal upon metal ground and he forced himself not to flinch as he listened to heavy footsteps approaching. the door to his cell opened violently and several guards stood there scowling fiercely.

"We shouldn't be here." one growled, irritated all around at being there but the leader of the group snarled at him.

"He will bring the beasts here again. We need to shut him up."

The rag man had turned and faced them upon entrance and remained passive as they grabbed his arms. He knew what was to come and forced his mind to focus on the scents of far off trees and open sky as they brought him to another room. there they tied his arms above his head and tore his shirt away. the fabric was weak and gave no resistance as it always did. Some days later they would give him another from some other poor soul that had died and left his clothing behind.

the first lash of the whip caused the muscle in his cheek to twitch and eyes to narrow. He flicked a silver gaze onto a near by man whom turned his eyes away and moved so that he was behind and out of the line of sight. the second, brought nothing from him and after twenty with bloody streaming down his back, soaking into his pants, he still had not made a sound. The leader of the group still scowled as if furious by this but resigned and he knew what the outcome would be. This was not the first get together of this nature between him and the group nor would it be the last so long he was caged there like a beast.

Beast. That thought made him smile slightly as they dragged him back to his room. He stood only as long as the door remained unlocked but once it did, he threw himself upon his molded cot upon his stomach and face turned to the side. The only thing of seeming value upon his body was the delicate looking silver bands upon his ankles. there were one upon each and appeared as braided cord, the skin around them red and irritated looking. They kept him from changing, kept him from his beast. The beast would heal him and take the wounds away but they knew that. They also knew the beast would kill them all if given the chance. So instead he took their beatings like a starved dog and waited....

A single tear leaked from his eye and glimmered in the soft light from outside before disappearing into his facial hair.
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Butcher's Daughter
Knickerweasel
[ *  * ]
She wasn't sure why she was in Limfrost at this time of year, but there she was, regardless. Loresh gave a wild shudder, not liking to be reminded that even though it was spring, the temperature still bested the coldest nights in her native Oradrim Lith'palan. She had agreed to find a man in the city, under guard and obviously under glacier, but other than that, she knew next to nothing about her contract. The thick, woolen cloak she shivered under felt like it did nothing to keep her warm, just like her two pairs of knitted breeches, her two long-sleeved tunics, everything else she wore doubled, and even the huge, furry pelt sewn along the collar of the cloak. She had bought the cloak from a famed seamstress in the city, vowing to return for the money it was supposedly well worth if it didn't keep her toasty, as promised.

The dark woman was beginning to wonder if this contract was even worth bothering with, when she heard a piteous yowl sound from a building ahead of her, off to the northeast. Loresh remembered the one who had contacted her mentioning that an unusually bestial howl from what sounded like it should be human would alert her to her target, and so the mercenary gave a last fierce shudder before darting off towards the sound. She eventually found herself inside a rather decrepit hold, as was the usual case for any building in Limfrost, side-stepping into shadowed doorways and the occasional privy to avoid being spotted by some pretty nasty-looking men. The mercenary followed the sound of voices at one turn, the sound of footsteps at another, and eventually found the sound she needed when the last crack of a whip echoed down her hall.

Loresh waited until they began dragging the bloodied man from the chamber before she could calm herself enough to locate where they'd vanished to and evade the guards as they left. Her dark pupils highlighted the whites of her eyes as she peered into the room, a burlap veil hiding everything else under the dark hood trying to keep the cold from her head. "Hey!" she hissed, glancing left and right to make sure no one else heard her. "Hey, are you the howler?" Loresh lowered her eyes to the pouch on her hip as she dug through it ferociously without pause until she extracted a lockpick with a squeal. Her eyes darted around before she started in on the lock, her focus sharp and direct.

A profound click let the mercenary know her skills had won out again, and she slipped the pick back into the pouch as she slid inside. "Why haven't you just... left?" she asked incredulously, giving the stranger a once-over before deciding his lash marks absolutely infuriated her. "What's keeping you here? Just... don't answer that. Can you stand up? Do you need help?" The dark woman danced over to his side, timidly offering a hand to help him stand. She was used to ending peoples' lives in creative, thoughtful ways, not saving them in that manner. She knew the general golden rule, be kind, help others, that sort of thing, but this was a whole 'nother beast. Little did she know.
Edited by Butcher's Daughter, Feb 22 2013, 03:17 AM.
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Lunar Dementia
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Grimly Fiendish
[ *  *  * ]
He ignored the voice that called to him as within his tormented mind, he thought it little more than another voice. Another memory. Taunting and tormenting him far more than those soldiers ever would. However the soft scratching of metal against metal would have perked his ears if they were able to do so and he opened his eyes but refused to move. A creature, laden down with bulk and dead things entered before it spoke again revealing it to be female at the least.

left? She was a fool this one, whomever she was. Her voice and words drifting in and out of his focus like an echo of which he had to wait for before he understood the meaning. When she came closer, his lips pulled back into a silent snarl of warning. Her apparently fury came out of no where and the scent of it, even dulled by his human nose, washed over him like a new stink in his rot of a prison. Silver eyes flickered however to the open door and her words whispered of ...freedom? Was it truly here? Or was it a trick?

As she came towards to reach out his snarl erupted into chest rumble growl as he sat up swiftly, heedless to his back. The move brought him to a crouch that tilted off balance and he had to extend a leg to the floor to keep from toppling onto it. He had not had reason to move in so long. The wolf that he bore beneath his skin pressed up close so that he could feel the prickles of his pelt just beneath human flesh. But the instant the two forms of thought came together the bands about his feet ignited into searing fire sensation. The beast man grunted with effort to remain upright as the agony receded after his inner wolf slunk back to its cave deep within his mind.

He glanced at the door again and felt so tired of it all, but it seemed like the woman was offering him something else. He did not know why and knew likely this was all just a mad hallucination from infection. However...what did it hurt to dwell in some fantasy? Forcing his hands to relax from the clawed formation, he straightened slowly and moved away from both her and the bed. The man did not want to touch her for fear she would vanish, or better yet, kill him as this was some new joke by the guards. Guards...He could hear the leather of their tunics creaking and tilted his head to locate the sound better. They were coming.

That settled it. Now or die. With a boldness that would shock some, he met her dark eyes with his own and waited for her move. He would follow as he did not want her behind him and he had never seen the world of ice when he had come. The beast had been dragged, blindfolded, and unconscious from beating to the hole. The hole was all he knew.
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Butcher's Daughter
Knickerweasel
[ *  * ]
Loresh snatched her hand back in a heartbeat at the man's toothy snarl. It wasn't nearly as chill in this re-purposed infirmary, but she could still feel the cold seeping into her garments and wondered how this being she was supposed to be rescuing wasn't trembling from frostbite or something, with what little he wore. He jumped to an upright position, startling the mercenary a step back. What sympathy she had developed from simply witnessing the lash marks on his back vanished, irritation sweeping in to replace it as she fought striking him for his demeanor.

"The hell is wrong with you?! I'm here to break you out and you wanna attack me?" she snapped in a hushed voice, glaring into the man's silvery eyes. A distant clink of metal on chainmail nearly shot Loresh out of her skin, spinning her around to peer anxiously down the hallway. "C'mon, let's get outta here!" She glanced over her shoulder at him as he stood, meeting her eyes with a meaningful gaze so that she turned right back around and pushed the door open without a second thought.

Outside the cell door, Loresh slipped one of her katars and a more convenient kris from their sheaths on her hips as she crouched low against a shadowed wall nearest where the guards were moving. Her dark covering was advantageous as she identified two guards conversing in low tones. Faint light danced across the whetted blades as the guards found them buried just above their collarbones, up to the hilts. In a blur of muffled, bloody movement, both men suddenly lay entangled in a motionless heap in the middle of the corridor as the mercenary wiped the blades off on the hem of one of her tunics and motioned for her companion to follow again.

After a few more stealthy silencing acts, the dark woman and her rescue emerged from the decrepit building, Loresh squinting her eyes as they burned from the strangely blinding light of the two full moons, amplified by the shape of the glacier. The semi-warmth of being in the infirmary fled her, then, sending her hands into quivering violently as she tried to replace her weapons and her big cloak nearly shaking off of her frame from her trembling. She cast a sideways glance at her ward, almost as if daring him to mention her reaction to the cold.

"From here, I mean to head to the city's trade district, to find myself a bloody passage back to Ratterlin. Have you heard of it?" She paused and rolled her eyes as she smacked a palm against her forehead. "I'm an idiot. Of course, you have. You're not a lackwit." Loresh vigorously rubbed her hands together. "You can follow me, so I can get you back to my contractor, or you can go your own way and risk capture again." Her eyes darted down to his ankles where the tiny silver bands shone in the moonlight. "Your rock and hard place. I'm going to get something to eat next to a fireplace, now." And with that she started towards the more populated sections of Limfrost.
Edited by Butcher's Daughter, May 21 2013, 03:43 PM.
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Lunar Dementia
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Grimly Fiendish
[ *  *  * ]
He followed like her shadow, close but never touching. The scent of her skin was almost intoxicating in it's exotic sense as it was something he could not remember having experienced. However in his time caged, he had begun to forget much, whether by desperation to keep the good times untainted or involuntarily for survival. The need to shut everything down in order to have no emotions to be shattered against the abuse and horror. To cage a wild beast...it was a death sentence. Even now as he followed her away from the guards, the scent of fresh spilt blood souring through his nose and mind, he was not sure he was alive. Surely he was though...the night air...it was closer. They stepped out the city, freedom so close but they were still enclosed. He felt it like an itch upon his flesh. Like the burning about his legs from the bands.

She was not the only one that winced from light. He turned his head away and into the shadows having not been exposed to more than weak filters of the substance since the beginning. with narrowed eyes, he looked at her, a frown forming on his face. She wanted a response but human words...they were difficult to form within his mind into coherent formations. His mind shook and skirted around them instead as if it was determined not to touch.

"I.." concentration deepened his frown. "Know not...place."

It was almost painful to think in a linear way. The cold pressing in, feeling so much like his cell, he was almost certain this was all hallucination and madness. She mentioned food and his gut twisted with such a powerful pain he had to struggle a moment not to fall over, for a moment merely swaying upon his feet. Real food. Raw meat. Fresh kill. The memory scent of blood washed over him. "Follow."

He needed something. Not knowing where he was and knowing nothing about what she was talking about. This was another time she had mentioned something about someone wanting him? No one was looking for him. He meant nothing to any one anymore. However he had enough of his mind to know that she had more resources and once he was beneath the eternal sky he would find someone who could release his bond. He needed his wolf, and his wolf had need of him.

As she began to move however he grabbed her arm, releasing it almost as if burned but then looked around. They were among the two-leggers now and his eye drifted to his bloody pants and bare torso caked with dried blood on the back. Not wanting to attempt words again he angled his chin at the town sharply then ran a hand down his exposed ribs and abs. Roan hoped he conveyed the message enough and let his hand drop as he stared at her mutely.
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Butcher's Daughter
Knickerweasel
[ *  * ]
Her eyebrows arced higher than they'd ever reached before as she stared at the bloodied, beaten man that followed her. The weight of his hand on her arm had spun her around so quickly that she had almost kept spinning. This was not at all what she had bargained for, when she had agreed to locate a "human woof". At least, that's what she thought she had heard. "You'd better follow me, all right."

"But gods help me, if you touch me again..." she muttered in a low voice. She stood motionless for a long moment, weighing her options as she stared unblinkingly into the man's eyes. Another long moment passed from then, as she heaved a great sigh and shuffled her big, fancy cloak off her shoulders and moved cautiously towards him, her eyes locked on his and her expression hopefully conveying nothing aggressive. "Cloak," she offered awkwardly, setting it on his shoulders the best she could as she practically seizured from the wintery air. "Can we bloody well move, now, please?"

She turned back around and marched them both into the official city limits, her first stop being the same shop she had bought her now-occupied cloak from. She flew out the front doors garbed in another massive cloak, wheeling around the corner and bee-lining for a time-worn building with a wooden sign painted with a faded stein, hanging perfectly still in the currentless air of the glacial city. Once inside, Loresh made sure her companion was behind her and moved to a table at the wall opposite the entrance. After ordering a dark brew and a helping of roast and potatoes, she turned her full attention back to the man with her.

"So you don't know Ratterlin," she began casually, her ears awaiting his reply, if there would be one, and her eyes scanning the faces and potential interest of those nearest them. She reached under the table, felt one of his knees and pressed a bundle of clothes that she had purchased with her new cloak into his lap without ever breaking her visual inquiry of the tavern's patrons. "I'm sure you'll find it very much favorable to this icy hellhole." Her dark eyes then darted to his silver ones. "Do you know how to read and-or write?"
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Lunar Dementia
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Grimly Fiendish
[ *  *  * ]
He wanted to decline when she took off her own cloak as she was obviously freezing in this city, but she had already moved on. Left with little choice, he settled the heavy garment over his shoulders, a hiss of in taken breath as it rubbed against his raw back. Until he gained something of substance, the wounds would not heal any faster than that of a mere human. The thought made his stomach twist with anxiety and disgust. Not because it compared him to a human but that it was another reminder how his wolf, even though within his same body, was so very far away from him. His heart hurt every time he brought that thought to mind.

As they entered the tavern, scents overwhelmed and rushed through his mind, adding to the high he was already getting from malnutrition and blood lose. Roan kept his shaggy head down with eyes cast away from anyone that might attempt to make contact. He kept the cloak pulled tight over his body in a manner that may have appeared as if he were as cold as his savior but in truth was hiding the rag pants. Nothing could keep his bare and dirty feet from sight however and he felt a few stares that he dutifully ignored.

As they sat he made sure the cloak covered him from open scrutiny, feeling closed in again as they were within the confines of the building. Cautiously, Roan gauged the room and made mental note of the exits as well as a places of possible weapons. He would rather die then be taken again now that he was so close. The wolf could taste wide sky upon the scent of the woman that clung to the furs and it yearned to release it's voice.

Food smell assaulted him, but he restrained from grabbing the tray and wolfing everything down as so not to draw attention to them. Instead he slow and steadily picked items off the platter, chewing slowly and savoring every bite with euphoric bliss before swallowing. It took him a moment due to this to realize the woman was speaking to him. Asking him questions? Ugh, more human words.

"I..no...yes, yes I can."

He took a drink to clean the dust from his throat and allowed the moment in order to organize his thoughts better. This woman was volatile and irritated she was on this mission. For the moment, he needed her and had to assist as he could before his scattered mind convinced her that she was better off dropping whatever deal was going on to gain his freedom.

"I can. I...sorry. Locked up a long time. Been no need for words."

His voice was appealing, he had been told before, like gravel wrapped in velvet. He reached up and ran a hand through his beard certain that he appeared like a wild man to these patrons. Roan felt like it though so maybe it fit. The flesh of his back was beginning to itch as the skin knitted itself back together with pain stakingly slow speed. It would have gone almost instantly had he been able to touch his beast, but it would do for now. When they got somewhere warm or sheltered, he would have to find a way to bathe the blood off so that he no longer scented as wounded prey. Quicksilver eyes darted a glance at her a moment before it went back to covertly watching the room as he continued to eat methodically.

"This skill..is needed?"
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Butcher's Daughter
Knickerweasel
[ *  * ]
Loresh paused in her nonchalant surveying of the room and her eating to screw her face into a scowl for the man's benefit. She scolded herself, made a deal with her conscience to get every detail about a job before she would take it from now on. She had no idea who or what this guy was and now had to contend with the fact that he didn't really speak fluent Common like she thought he should.

"No, it's a necessity," she replied frankly, returning her attention to her food and popping a large chunk of gravy-soaked potato into her mouth. "I need to know your name and don't want nobody else eavesdropping, in case they've come out of that abandoned infirmary where I found you, to find you again!" The mercenary distracted herself by digging around in a satchel on her hip, fishing around until she produced a metal-tipped quill pen and two papers, one blank and one covered in a chicken-scratch scrawling she was sure he wouldn't be able to read right-side up, much less upside-down.

"I'm going to ask you, quietly, if you know your name, and if you'd be so kind as to write it down on that blank leaf, I'd appreciate it enough to buy you a whole roast hog for yourself, bub." Her dainty eyebrows were quirked so high, had she fringe they would have vanished from sight. As it was, her forehead wrinkled up like an old woman's before her brows drop back down into a furrow, one hand sliding the page and pen across the table towards her companion. "I might even tell you who sent me in for you, see if you know or remember 'em, eh?"

The truth of it was that Loresh actually had no idea who had really contacted her, other than it was a man and he had seemed a part of the shadows themselves. He had visited her in her room at the largest inn at a fishing village off the coast near Ratterlin, shrouded in darkness and inhuman enough to wake the woman out of a dead sleep with each of her hands on a blade. She never saw his face, only his eyes, faint white orbs glowing out of the shadow like the moons behind cloud cover.

"In the glacier, there is a human wolf you must find. Bring him to the city-state by the sea and you will be greatly rewarded for your effort, butcher's daughter." He had a flat voice, knew her taste for coin would lure her to find out just how much "reward" she was like to get and so vanished from the room, as if he had never been there in the first place. Loresh remembered hearing the sound of massive wings rustling at her window before the wind whistled through the feathers and there was silence.
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Lunar Dementia
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Grimly Fiendish
[ *  *  * ]
With obvious reluctance, he moved his plate off too his side a bit so that he could bring the parchment before him. Staring down at the blank surface, he felt it a reflection of his own mind in it's current state but mentally shook himself and blinked. Reaching out a hand to grasp the pen, Roan noticed a tremor in his fingers. He was exhausted. It was the bone weary exhaustion of having spent so long just trying to stay alive. Stay sane. Stay functioning.

He was not sure if he had succeeded entirely, at least with the sane faction of things but he was alive. Alive. He was so happen he could cry. Instead he shoved those feelings back down and let none of it show on his face. So close to being free, but not quite there yet. Closing his eyes a moment, his head drooped and he had to fight the urge to find a dark hole to sleep within. Maybe when he woke, he would be back in the cell and this would have all just been a horrible nightmare. A tease.

Opening his eyes again, he lifted his head and tightened his fingers about the tipped pen in resolve. Words. She wanted words. Words came from letters. Mentally he traveled back to when he learned his letters. His mother had been leaning over his shoulder, watching and patiently correcting his mistakes whilst praising his achievement. She had passed some years back and although she was gone, he still felt some days that he could feel her presence. Thankfully he knew this to be a trick of his mind, a wishful thought, as he knew for certain that unlike his brother, she had not been trapped between planes.

Slowly...He pressed the pen to paper and began to write. R-O-A-N. the letters were shaky at first but gained strength and clarity as he continued. D-E-A-N-T-O-N-Y. Roan made sure to accent his name with the sur-De and then pushed both pieces of equipment back to the woman. Pulling his food close again, he began to eat as he watched her from under long dark lashes. For the first time, he really watched her, eyes cold and calculating as his mind sluggishly gained function when refreshed with food. She was a creature of means and he could use such a being.

"My...memory is not so frayed..."

He needed to get the silver off of him before it poisoned him permanently, forever locking the beast away from his soul. Roan took a deep breath, collecting the words of the plan that was coming together within his shadowed mindscape.

"I have more pressing matters...than the one whom paid for me."

He needed money if he was going to afford a talented blacksmith or thief whom could free him.

"There is place...of great treasure. Some of which, belongs to me. More than this one is paying. A ship..needed to get there."

A pause was needed as suddenly he felt as if he was not getting enough air within his lungs. Healing the wounds on his back was bringing the wolf too close and his legs felt as if they were set aflame. Clenching his jaw, he spoke between his teeth with determination.

"I need help. Little better than runt pup."

His never wavered as he now finished his food and leveled silver eyes on the dark skinned mercenary.

"If you cannot. Bring me to someone who can."
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Butcher's Daughter
Knickerweasel
[ *  * ]
She had watched, almost too eagerly, for him to scribble his name down, then caught herself with a mental scolding. She had not been informed of the name of her target, just that he was a "human wolf", something that was beginning to pique her interests and not perhaps in a good way. She did manage to read upside down, from her companion's eloquent font, that his name was Roan and she tested the name in silence, formed the word on her lips without breathing life into it. He was learned at least, she thought to herself, having to know letters and she assumed numbers in order to work the pen correctly.

"Your mind can be whatever you want, sadiki," she muttered under her breath as she took the stuff back from him. She glanced nonchalantly at his name again, smirking half-heartedly as she decided she fancied it, and crammed everything back into her satchel before turning her attention back to her own plate again. Loresh did see the glint of lamplight catch in his molten silver eyes as she realised he was actually paying attention to her, now, instead of just his food. The mercenary fiercely battled with her common sense, fought against letting him make his judgements and keeping her mouth shut versus alerting every potential member of the local thieves' guild to their intent and potential worth. She sat stock still, an ugly grimace twisting her features until his next words distracted her from her inner, imaginary turmoil.

"Oookay, so you, first off, don't even care who knew where you were well enough to demand a stranger enact your escape; two, don't care to find out who's going to 'retrieve' you from Ratter-bloody-lin; three, you suddenly have more coin --oh, pardon me, treasure-- to offer me than the person that wanted you found; and four, why should I do more than I bargained for, for you?" It took her a long moment to realise her attempt at quiet, what with her hissing and harsh whispers, was drawing more attention to their table than a normal speaking voice might have. The woman ignored the stares, regardless, as Roan explained as simply as she could imagine his answer to her last question.

"Why don't you just let me take to damn Ratterlin, eh? They have plenty of boats there, if memory serves," she asked, her dark eyes narrowed almost shut. By pure promise of some sort of reward was Loresh now even bothering with the whole ordeal. She had splurged far too much of her own money on the two massively extravagant cloaks for her and Roan and with so much "reward" floating around, she had begun counting up her assets and found her pocket wasn't lined as deeply as she would have liked. "S'where I need to be, anyways, Gospodar DeAntony."
Edited by Butcher's Daughter, May 21 2013, 02:54 PM.
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