Wake me! Nysel's realm holds no peace for me now. (Coatl)

[Kavala]

here was a time when Kavala loved to dream. Sleep held no fears, and was a comfortable conclusion to a long day spent with her father, her sister, and the rest of their clan working, hunting, not only surviving but thriving out in the Sea of Grass. But here, closing ones eyes resulted in no rest or reprieve. In fact, waking was indeed more of a nightmare than a true nightmare could be. And if one let ones guard down enough to sleep, bad things happened. Horrible things. The best the women could hope for was unconsciousness. And sometimes that blissfully came. The konti shifted where she was resting, her back against the cool bars of the wagon's slave cage and twisted her shackled leg awkwardly, trying to find comfort in a world where all the color had bled out. Her long pale legs were criss-crossed with brusing, some clearly outlining hand prints, others more general and etched with abrasions from Windsong's fall. Kavala's thoughts darted away from that train of thought. She couldn't... just couldn't think about the young stallions fall and probable death because of it. It was her own fault this happened, for she'd turned the great horse east, looking for easier footing rather than trusting him to find it on his own in his ground eating wind gait. It was an easy mistake, though one she should have seen because the valley had a natural funnel for horseman, and the rocks and debris that crowded one of two pathways almost looked purposely set, as if herding a mounted group in a predetermined direction on a common route entering the grasslands. That's exactly what happened to the horse and rider as Kavala turned Windsong east, dropped down off the valley ridge, and onto the safer footing of the plain. They'd picked the safest quickest way down and even though she'd seen it before they were upon it, there was no way Kavala could have gotten Windsong stopped or turned in enough time to avoid the tripwire... a wire stretched tight between to camouflaged stakes right at a horse's knee level... designed to break legs, kill riders... and the bane of the Drykas' existence everywhere. The stallion went down, and Kavala's memory went blank. It had been sketchy for two weeks since. She remembered her name eventually, and ten days after she'd got back her name, the konti had remembered everything completely. It would have been better if she hadn't, because at least then she could endure the nightly attentions of the slavers with some semblance of pretending that's all she knew. But it wasn't. Kavala and her sister were born among the Drykas, proud and fierce, and in many ways both girls took after their father's people far more than their pale skin and white-blond hair would have indicated. Kavala was just thankful Akela wasn't here with her. No one had witnessed her stupidity, her ignorance, and her mistake that ultimately cost Kavala her entire life. And for that she was glad. Things hadn't been easy since. When you had a reason to fight - to remember being free and not chained as a slave on the way to some far off exotic market, then you couldn't help but do so. The men just enjoyed their evening activities all the more though once she'd come back to herself and began to fight them. Subsequently one of her eyes were swollen shut from a well placed blow to the head, and there was almost a constant headache pounding away in her temple that should have been easily smoothed by her Gnosis Mark. But Kavala had learned early on to stop healing the bruises. They just enjoyed making fresh ones the next evening. Bruised flesh was used flesh, and that which was unmarked was all the more appealing. So she left things as they were. The days weren't so bad, unless the men stopped for a mid-day amusement, which was known to happen when they had made good time traveling. Though the memory was still vague, she remembered being 'collected' and then picked up for transport by this wagon group destined for a sinister location just somewhere 'southeast'. The men had not treated them kindly either. Claiming they were going for 'food' and 'pleasure' or both, the goal wasn't to keep the women lovely, for evidently the people they were being sold too weren't interested in such things. The only goal was to keep them alive. Subsequently she knew all ten of the slavers... intimately. Kavala knew the lines of their faces, the stench of their breath, and the hatred in their eyes. She knew the chill of their cold hands on her warm flesh, the weight of their bodies, and just exactly how each and every one of them took their pleasure. But it wasn't herself she felt sorry for. Pysaki, a human girl about half Kavala's age was close to the end of her limits. She'd stopped eating, wouldn't drink, and was a favorite among them for she cried piteously. They claimed she'd be food, before all the rest of them, wherever they were going. Kavala didn't want to think of where that was. Only one place came to mind... Castle Xy and the Zith. Once Kavala had learned silence and quiet surrender through repeated blows, they'd lost interest more or less. White flesh inked over with the tattoos of the Drykas held very little appeal once they'd all sampled it a few times and found it unresponsive or even revolted. Margosa, a human woman with lovely honey eyes, was equally schooled, and was the one that eventually whispered softly to Kavala the secrets she needed to know to survive. Syliran, or so Kavala had guessed, though they weren't allowed to actually talk to get to know one another. Dusva was older, perhaps in her mid forties and did all the cooking once they'd stopped. Kavala resented her at first, because the men never seemed to touch her, until she realized they valued her cooking more than they valued her cries. There was one more young woman but she'd never spoke so the konti had no idea what her name was. Kavala thought she looked like a younger version, before the men had got to her, of the older woman that used to be with them as well. The older woman hadn't survived, and the men had left her body along the road for the birds and wild things to pick the bones clean. Kavala thought that was perhaps why the fifth woman never spoke. Five of them.... with each having no really good chance at surviving. She didn't know how long the trip would take, or how much further any of them could endure. Day passed towards evening and the little caravan pulled to a halt near a dry stream bed, and the men started setting camp. Kavala watched, disinterested, and wondered absently if there'd be any food left for the slaves after the men got done eating. Truthfully, she couldn't remember the last time she'd not been hungry or exhausted. As she was looking over the activities, trying not to think of the evening to come and what she'd be required to do, a movement at the edge of her vision caught her eye. Slowly she turned her head and caught a flash of buckskin flesh, dark mane and tail, and the soundless movement of a stallion following the group. Kavala couldn't tell what his condition was, but he moved fluidly, without a limp... and seemed, from the brief glimpse she caught, to still have her gear strapped to his riding pad and breast collar. It was Windsong... and for a moment that gave her hope that she could escape. If he'd stayed free, then his presence meant she could survive if she could just get free of the men. The Drykas never used headstalls on their horses, so she wasn't surprised if he'd survived the fall that he was still free unlike herself. Kavala couldn't watch for long because they swung the cage open, pried out Dusva to get started on the dinner, and then extracted Pyskai to get the evening started. Kavala felt grateful she was still in the cage, and closed her eyes to feign sleep now that the wagons rocking had ceased. The Konti would have made it sleep in reality, but there was none to be had these days within the confines of the cage. She knew Nysel wouldn't help her, for she was already locked in a nightmare... and it wasn't one of his making. Suddenly, Kavala heard a horse call from the picket line, and one answer from not too far away in the distance. She opened her eyes, cursed silently, and willed he stallion to be quiet. But another answering neigh from another direction sounded. Then a fourth... all different horses. Sitting up, Kavala knew they had company, but she wasn't sure if the slavers knew it yet or not. There were no Horseclans out here, not in this region. It was no-mans land, unclaimed with poor grass anyhow. The konti looked expectantly, while trying not to look too curious, and shifted pulling at her shackle, and wondering who was out in the distance, hidden.

[Coatl]

Iksar had four other Akalak warriors with him with him as they came from the south east towards the location the Cerulean Scouts had reported. It was told that the caravan was a small Caravan and looked to be heading deeper into Zith country. It contained five women. Women were more prescious that the gems from the mines to the Akalak. To free them and convince just one to stay in the city was one more potential Akalak child in the future. Riverfall relied on such possibilities. This was Iksar's first time at leading a raiding party though he'd been out on quite few. It was his chance to show his worth to the community.

One slave girl looked to be cooking by the fire, the second slave girl was being 'taken advantage of' behind the tree, and the remaining three slave women were still in the slave wagon. Only the four slavers standing guard on the edges of the campsite loked to be paying attention to anything. The slaver at the slave wagon was drooling over the women inside and talking to Kavala about how he was going to make her submit. Those around the campfire were teasing the slave cook, and the one at the supply wagon was sleeping by the rear wheel.

OOCSorry for the short post, but I wanted this map to be out there for Iksar to be able to post to this thread. Kavala's post about a commotion would technically have come from the ambush Iksar is to plan, so Iksar post to this ... i'll post again for everyone ... then we can post freely from there. Sorry for any delays, but I could not place this in words and finally downloaded autorealm mapmaker because it was free.

[Saika]

(OOC: With the okay from Kavala to join the thread))

Saika smiled softly as he ducked low in the grass, his feet pushing him forward as he made his way to the circle of slaves. He knew a small group was coming from the other as he was making his way from the Northwest, a slaver being seen as he pulled out his wooden lakan. His right hand gripping it tight with another being in his belt. He could duel wield them but he was far better with just one even if they were wood he still knew how to fight.

He was a young Akalak yet that would not stop him from fighting for what he thought was right and freeing slaves sounded like a good idea. The grace of night cloaked his dark midnight blue skin well along with his black outfit. His pale gold eyes would be the only sign that something was amiss as he moved with his full might. He had to take out the scout before others came for he could handle one on one but not one on ten.

His left hand would move attack the guard's lower stomach as his right with the weapon to the front of the neck if all went well. He would know in any second and hoped luck was on his side but his goal was to crush the windpipe so yelling would had been gone.

[Gural]

OOCI was unsure whether or not to use Saika as a valuable distraction in the northwest at first, but now I think it’s a good idea. I find it easy to eliminate all these slavers in a maximum of two posts, unless you wish to prolong the battle or describe the commotion. And as a side note, if we do prolong the fighting, it would probably be best for you to control the slavers; so that it can actually feel like a battle and all. Huge post, I know, but I don’t really have much experience controlling groups. Hope I did everything right. Riska speaks Iksar speaks Maoran speaks Gural speaks Corak speaks As the light of day slowly lessened, a small war party was closing their distance with the camp. Four tall warriors dismounted from the backs of four spirited steeds, and then there was Gural. As Iksar saw they were close enough to proceed on foot and still too far to cause any ruckus, he gave a hand sign that brought the group to a sudden halt. The four horsemen stopped in their tracks, but the oldest and seemingly the worst at horse riding among them flew right past them. It was not long after that the last horse too had stopped, violently dismounting its rider. “I swear on Wysar, if you don’t learn how to ride one of these days, I am going to murder that animal!” Corak yelled. As Gural turned towards the horse to pat it, the cerulean continued: “If he throws us off one more time, I will punch it right on top of its measly skull!” the voice went on. “It’s not his fault that we have no idea how to dismount” Gural replied calmly before proceeding towards the rest of the group on foot. The men were already standing around in an incomplete circle where the hollow point was his place among the team. Taking his place, he nodded to Iksar as the leader proceeded: “Our scout reports speak of an Akalak making his way from the northwest on foot. I have reason to believe he wants to aid us in our endeavor, but let us show him that we need no such help!” he whispered. Iksar was an extremely short man by Akalak standards, but it was not like Gural had the right or the stature to look down upon him. He was by far the youngest within the group, and the only reason he was actually in charge was most likely his crazy perfectionism. Others were here because they believed that they could help out their people by harboring the enslaved women in Riverfall, but he actually believed it was his mission to save everyone. Some looked down upon him for that, and that included most of the group he was leading. The only one that still had belief in his ‘cause’ was his younger brother Riska, on whom he relied heavily for support in his new role. The call came in quickly and most of them rushed with whatever they had on their backs at the moment. Iksar was the only one among them who had his armor at the ready when they rode out while others were in their street clothes. All of the people here were much younger than Gural, so it was weird for him to actually take orders from newborns with barely any experience. Still he wasn’t in the mood to kill people today, with the imbalance of control he was feeling, it all just needed to end. Pride would only get in the way of the swift return to his training, so none was brought along. “Riska, you will scout the territory before our advance, do not get seen!” Iksar ordered plainly. He stopped until his brother was lost within the tall grass, and then he continued: “From what I’ve heard, there are four watch posts around the camp. After getting news of the unknown man in the northwest, I am confident he can struggle with one slaver alone. Gural and I will approach the camp from the southeast which was our direction from the start. Lisor, you and Maoran will take either the northeast or the southwest, depending on the information we get from the scouting” he sighed, adding: “When Riska returns, he will go with the two of you. Keep an eye on him at all times!” family was important and with that in mind no one had any objections to the orders. Iksar moved away, looking nervously back at the grass, expecting his brother. “You think he will break down?” Maoran asked intrigued. “No, I don’t think so” Gural replied against his will. Maoran was infamous for starting fights whenever someone would disagree with him, that and his seven and a half feet stature made him a man everyone stood clear off unless they had to do otherwise. He had a lakan attached to his waist like all the other of the group, but unlike the others he had a quiver on his back and the biggest composite longbow Gural had ever seen. The man treasured it as his most valuable possession, and even went as far as to brag it was of Inarta craftsmanship. Most people agreed he was tricked into buying a simply overgrown bow, but he heard no such theories, not after he broke one boy’s arm for simply stating the obvious. Mood swings were an everyday thing for the huge man and as no one knew the name of his darker side, people began to wonder have the souls somehow merged into the sadistic shell of their body? Lisor kept quiet at all times unless his words were actually needed. He was also the only man known to keep Maoran in check with ease; most people knew this and stood clear of him as well as a safety measure. Gural wasn’t afraid of the man, but he didn’t find his silence as something that interested him either. Maoran seemed to want to throw another remark about the lacking skills of their leader, when Riska emerged from the grassy horizon. “Your report?” Iksar asked with a smile on his face. “Someone already took out the guard at the northwestern post, considering the position of the Sun, we have the best chance for a surprise attack if we strike both of the southern posts, as both of them are looking towards the east because of the setting day. Straight after the post in the southeast there is a man sleeping next to what looks like a supply wagon. One of the slavers is harassing a female close to the southwestern end of the camp, in the proximity of the trees” Riska finished with disgust in his voice. “Alright, you all know your orders” Iksar spoke. “Riska you are with them…” he added pointing towards Maoran and Lisor who were already well on their way towards the southwest. As Riska disappeared from sight once more, the man nudged his head to Gural: “Keep low and follow me” “Yes, your majesty.. who the hell does he think he is, ordering us around like that?!” Corak asked, his irritation impossible to overlook. Gural and Iksar arrived close to their target before the others had the chance to reach theirs, so they waited for the guard that was watching towards them to be eliminated. As soon as the first slaver fell, Gural awkwardly tackled the second while Iksar was slicing his throat. Keeping low, the pair continued towards the supply wagon. Once there, they could see the one harassing the female falling face first next to the woman, with an arrow sticking out of his back. Quickly forcing two blades into the sleeping slaver, the pair realized the inevitable… “If that bitch screams, I will kill her myself!” Corak added when he realized what was going on.

[Kavala]

Nothing was to be seen. That surprised her. If it was a predator, the horses in the picket line would have spooked. Mindtricks. That was all. The Konti closed her eyes again, leaning her forehead against the bars on the wagon. She shifted slightly, but it did nothing to ease the pain and itching she felt all over her skin. Filth, mostly dried blood and mud, covered her. Part of her wanted a bath, in the worst way, but another part of her doubted she'd ever see fresh water again and certainly not water that was hot. Kavala wore nothing but a thin blanket and the bruises that covered her body. Truthfully she was barely recognizable as a Konti let alone even human. Both her knees and the palms of her hands were scraped raw from being treated like an animal and used like a brood mare on her hands and knees. Her stomach was scratched raw as well, matching the whip marks on her back and the teeth marks on her neck and breasts.

She didn't feel real. In fact, Kavala played a game in her own mind, waiting for death to come. Would it be today? Tomorrow? The konti weren't meant to be held like this, and certainly not one filled with Drykas blood. Part of her mourned the loss of her Strider. That was most of her misery. She'd made a mistake and Windsong had paid with his life. No matter what happened to her here, that was the worst of it absolutely. Windsong was the reason she was considered a Drykas and had family at all. Andshe'd ill-treated him, going down that gulch the wrong way - the easy way - not being careful. She'd rode him into a trap and he'd paid for it with his life. And although she'd blacked out during the fall due to striking her head, she knew without a doubt at least one of the tripwires had snapped his foreleg or worse. Guilt ate her alive. And in a way she wondered if this was the reason why this was happening to her? As if she somehow deserved her fate.

Kavala turned her head. Two others were with her. One feigning sleep, the other so exhausted she was sleeping. They'd taken the girl and one of the other women to use. Kavala could not see much, but then again one of her eyes was swollen badly, almost shut. The girl wouldn't make a sound, and some selfish part of Kavala's heart was glad for it. The other woman though, older, would fight. It would be ugly and they'd end up beating her anyhow all over again.

Kavala had fought too, at first, but now there was something wrong with her. There was a real detachment as if she couldn't force her feelings to the surface. They were lost to her, which was another source of shame and guilt. Kavala would have thought herself a fighter, someone who wouldn't have given in and woul dhave gone down fighting. But she was wrong. Last time she'd been hauled out of the wagon as entertainment, she'd simply shook so hard she coudlnt' talk. She knelt when they told her too, opened her mouth when requested, and did all the vile things unquestioningly that they'd wanted her to. It'd been faster then, less painful, and they'd patted her pleased calling her 'broken' and 'tamed'.

It was a quick and painful lesson on what men wanted and needed from women, especially women who's fathers and family weren't around to protect them. She was just a piece of meat. A dead thing with no choice and no feeling. And now she was seeing things... hearing horses where none should be.

She almost felt hope, but couldn't dare. The men were too strong. The struck hard and fast, ruthless. No one would ever stop them. She would die as food in a zith's belly or chained in a slave cage in a zith's city. The men, for pleasure, had described exactly what they zith were like and what they'd do to the women. Kavala knew they had sharpened teeth, razor claws, hair, and barbs on their members that would tear a human or konti woman's body up. And since they preferred their meat raw, odds are they would eat just a bit of the slaves at a time, feasting as they took their pleasure. The men had said the zith would take their eyes first, eating them like delicacies and later only much later would they cut out their still beating hearts to eat.

Kavala prayed she'd never make it to castle Xy alive.

[Gural]

OOCI am sorry that took more than expected. Iksar speaks Maoran speaks Gural speaks Corak speaks Lisor speaks And scream she did, alerting everyone within hearing range. Iksar was the first one to spring into the fray. There were three slavers next to the campfire, the fourth one was a few feet to their right and then there was the fifth man who was racing across the camp to rejoin with his comrades. As everyone was trying to seem organized, Gural left the shelter of the supply wagon with Iksar as the man shouted in rough common: “Lay down your arms! Get on your horses and run! You might die, but should you face us, your death sentence is assured! So wha..” there he stopped as he could see one of the slavers pulling a sword out of the sheath and walking towards the cook. Just as he was pulling her up as if to use her as a shield, an arrow flew from the distance and landed in the middle of his forehead. The woman fell back to the ground and ran for the trees to rejoin with the already saved screamer. The men still seemed unafraid of the Akalak presence as one of them even gestured them to draw out their blades. Their courage was however broken quite quickly once they saw three more blue apparitions coming to join the two men that had previously shown themselves. Whether it was Maoran they were afraid of, or the Akalak race as a whole; the slavers quickly accepted the proposal and threw down their arms naively. Maybe they were stupid enough to think they could survive outside of the camp without their weapons, but that wasn’t true. Still, no one stopped them as their rode away, one by one, trying to prolong their measly lives if only for a dozen chimes. As the humans were moving away, another arrow flew over Iksar’s head and landed in the back of the last one among them. Furious, he turned around and punched Maoran before the towering giant even had the time to gloat. Shrugging of the blow without even a slightest twitch, Maoran launched his fist for Iksar’s skull. The blow was interrupted to the surprise of both of them, as Lisor had caught Maoran’s fist and started clenching it so tightly that the giant actually fell to his knees while tapping the hand that held him as a sign of submission. “I will remember this” was the most he could growl out as Lisor finally released his hand. The tall man still seemed to blame Iksar for his humiliation and everyone knew that there was no such thing as a long time surviving enemy of Maoran. “I wouldn’t expect anything less! Next time you disobey me it won’t be a fist, but a blade of a lakan that will come to you for retribution cerulest scum! If I say they can leave, then they..” and he stopped again, but this time not of his own accord. Finally voicing his thoughts, it was Lisor that had interrupted: “Don’t get overconfident now, next time you instigate a fight with Maoran, I will indeed allow him to kill you. Now stop staring at me like newborn jakri and go open that cage; we have damsels to save!” and just as quickly as if it was Lisor who truly led the group, Iksar ran towards the cage, bashing off the lock, as Maoran and Riska were helping the two already saved women up on their steeds. Iksar apologized to one of the girls when she squirmed in pain as he lifted her up in his embrace. Lisor was next, taking up another female that Gural didn’t get to even look at properly. The intimidating Akalak however didn’t say anything; he just kept looking at the woman as if he was sorry they weren’t there earlier. And there was the last one, a young Konti who seemed to be bruised so bad she almost looked like an Akontak. Not having time for niceties, Gural picked her off the ground, and started carrying her away towards the horses as he held her tight in order to prevent any twitches that might cause him to drop her. They all mounted quickly, and all horses set off, two people on each of them. Gural tried to be quiet but it wasn’t even a full chime after they set off that he whispered: “Are you alright?” it was common, yes, but accent was so crude it almost felt like he was doing a mock voice. He wanted to apologize all of a sudden too, for being all too rash with his actions, but any further words failed him. Well that went well! Yeah, I guess… Oh come on, don’t give me that crap, would you look at her? She has a few defects now for sure, but would you look at that body? She will surely make a fine Nakivak! And hey, she might even be grateful enough to give us a preview of nature’s blessings when she is all patched up and clean! Corak sounded almost ecstatic as Gural could feel arousal reeking somewhere in the back of his head. Still it came to a close halt and was quickly replaced by furious rage as Gural asked: Doesn’t she kind of look like Shri? You family fornicating son of a whore! How can you say something like that? Damn… you just spoiled my moment here!

[Kavala]

Later, much later, she'd look back and see it for what it was; a rescue. But when the cage lock was broken and the young women were taken out, Kavala didn't acknowledge it. When hands reached for her, she went to them knowing it was easier to do so than to cower in the back of the wagon cage where they'd have to come through the filth and get her which would annoy them into being even crueler. So when arms reached for her she went to them, docile, silent, her eyes so blue and so swollen that she almost looked blind.

White hair was tinted pink through the ends where it had dragged through blood enough times to be stained. Tangled like it was, Kavala was slow to realize she was being lifted onto a horse and a big man was settling behind her. The woman had no clothing. None of them did. The marks of their ordeal were clearly written on their body in bruises and wounds. Kavala's was perhaps a little worse than the others, for to the Akalak men who handled her, they could see her skin had been etched as if by an artist with a knife. She bled from a lot of different places though the cuts were shallow. Nudity didn't seem to bother her, nor did being mounted on a horse. She almost protested that she could ride on her own - that she'd bonded with striders - before the Konti remembered speaking wasn't encouraged. Her body was small against the big man's form, sharing his saddle, his back providing her with something to lean against even though no self respecting Drykas would ever do so mounted up.

They rode past death. Bodies were on fire. They were men she knew, though she was slow to realize it, and men she had once hated before the protective indifference had consumed her. There was something odd about the man behind her too. Not only was he big but he smelled clean, only the scent of leather and weapons oil coming off his skin. That confused her a little since her captors had been unwashed for the most part and decidedly lax on hygiene.

Kavala almost asked if she'd been sold until her mind presented her of the images of bodies as they rode out of the camp. Her peripheral vision, which was somewhat limited by her injuries, also told of other riders surrounding her some carrying women. Blue. The men were blue. Kavala's eyes tracked downward towards the arms she could see about her. One was extended out in front of her holding a set of reins to the horse they rode. The other was wrapped loosely around her middle. It wasn't an intimate touch, but rather a supportive one.

It took her a long time to work up the courage to look up and back, to catch a glimpse of the face that was attached to the arms she'd studied for almost an hour before she realized what she was seeing.

Akalak.

She'd heard of them. Warriors of the west from the city of Riverfall. Kavala didn't know if they were friend or foe. Truthfully, she didn't care, and that disturbed her more than not knowing the status of the Akalak she rode with. A part of her wanted to care, but another part stiffly beat that first curious part back into a small corner of her mind, for her own good. But she didn't want to go, not really. He'd spoken to her. Sure, it was miles ago, but it had taken her a great deal of time to realize he had.

The slavers had never asked any questions. They had only made demands. Why had he asked her a question? What had he asked anyhow? Kavala's mind reached backwards, searching her memory, the thickly accented words being called up once more.

She answered him then, finally, with a quiet whisper that was delivered in common heavily accented with Grasslander Pavi. "No.... "

She paused a long time. And if it wasn't his first time raiding, he'd know why. She was waiting for the blows to come. She was waiting to see if speaking was appropriate or if punishment for answering his question would be swift. "I don't remember my name." This was intoned absently, as if this was something she should care about but didn't. It was as if she was more wondering why she didn't care about not knowing her name rather than disturbed by not knowing it at all. A few moments later, she spoke again.

"I don't know why I am here with you. Do I belong to you now? There's something else important, something I can't seem to remember..." She was trying to voice to him how she didn't care and if that was something she should care about. But the words wouldn't come out nor would the idea of how much that scared her make itself known.

After another long pause she spoke again. "I don't know what's happening." That cost her something to admit, a price she couldn't pay.

The girl rode the horse they shared as if she'd been riding them all her life. Her accent would be evident. She was a konti who spoke and rode like a Drykas. And she was damaged. Very damaged.

[Gural]

OOCI am sorry that took more than expected. In the long chimes of silence, Gural couldn’t really do much besides stare down at the girl curiously. She seemed hurt, maybe even beyond what the eye could see. His mind could never understand such a fragile state, but then again he was never pushed so far; so low. He noticed her looking up at him, but kept pretending he didn’t notice; she would probably be scared out of her mind if he looked back at her. When she finally spoke, the Akalak looked to the side, feeling a sour mix of pity and rage. It was a stupid question, and he wanted to say something that would mend his stupidity; instead of him doing anything, she spoke again. She spoke like a Drykas, and even while she was hurt, it was fair to say he was still the lesser rider on their mount. He had never seen someone so hurt but still sane, and there was certain admiration that he held for her now. She didn’t flinch much at the nudity, but Gural wasn’t used to being so close to women without their clothes on. Perhaps she was cold? He listened to her as she spoke, while slowly reaching for the saddlebags and pulling out a horse blanket. Before doing anything, he pondered whether it would humiliate her or would she see it as protection from the wind? Still, he decided asking her first. “Are you cold?” if she answered yes, he would hand her the blanket, but if not, it would end up back in the saddlebag where it first came from. The silence wasn’t kind on his ears, and he doubted it would do her much good either, so he spoke again. “You will remember your name Konti of the plain, maybe today, maybe in two days… but you will. You are safe now” even if she didn’t believe it yet, he thought she needed to hear it. He was never truly convinced by the Nakivak system, as it was traditional for his family to marry Konti out of love. Still, he needed to tell her something, something comforting perhaps. “We have saved you, and in return you will help save my people. You will bear a silver bracelet as a Nakivak and you will give birth to children. It might not be an ideal life, but you will never be harmed by any our kind. In Riverfall, we protect our women!” maybe it wasn’t as comforting as he had originally thought it would be but it was something, and something was a start. I’m going to melt over here. Quiet! Aww, come on man… Silence! Pfft, fine you helioc whore! “We are riding to Riverfall now, the magnificent home of my people, have you ever seen it?” he couldn’t think of anything else to say, but he still hoped she would somehow get out of her shell of fear.

[Kavala]

There was something different about him. Kavala kept turning slightly in the saddle to get a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye. Miles passed by beneath them and slowly as they rode she began to pay more attention to her surroundings. The other women rode with the men as well, and none of them were being struck or abused in other ways she'd witnessed in the last month. The men almost seemed used to the sight. Their voices, she noticed, were not jolly or excited. Instead, they were subdued and hushed, each rider doubled up treating his charge with respect.

Kavala flinched as he drew something from his saddlebag offered it to her. A horse blanket. Kavala said nothing, her eyes wide, suspecting a trick. She was freezing, had been for days, but had managed not to get sick because of her Rak'ekli mark. She wanted the blanket, and nodded slowly, then closed her eyes expecting a denial. When he handed her the blanket, she wrapped it around herself and started to feel warm for the first time in a long time. The only time she'd been warm before was huddling with the other women or being used by the men. Her back was warm against the Akalak's chest, but the addition of the blanket helped even more. Covered, she felt strangely better less powerless. The blanket she tucked around her, over her legs and up and around her head so she was bundled like an old lady. Some of the women, she noticed, had similar blankets or borrowed cloaks from the men they rode with.

The Akalak spoke again and Kavala listened. He was worth listening too now, having given her warmth - a simple but important thing. She relaxed even more against him, closing her eyes. Exhaustion filled her but she spoke anyhow. "Maybe I don't want to remember. Maybe she is dead. They did such awful things to her. She did such awful things to cause it. Her horse died, you see, her strider when she took him down an easy trail carelessly. They had a tripwire out across the trail. I think it broke her horse's legs because the last thing she remembers was the fall. Then she woke up into her punishment. She woke into the worst darkest place ever. She was coming home from training in Mura as a healer. She was coming home to make her family proud. Instead she rode into disgrace." Kavala said, speaking of herself as if she were a third person, someone distant like a casual observer.

"But there was something she forgot there... she thought she heard her horse when the Akalak raided..." She said softly. "It couldn't be true. Those tripwires were ugly. No horse would have survived that fall." Kavala said, speaking more now even though her voice was hoarse. It was to be expected. There were bruises on her throat, ugly ones, that likely contributed to her silence.

The Akalak spoke again. She listened quietly. His words sunk in and she nodded. There was a purpose to this then, which made sense. There had been no purpose to the other than senseless violence and gluttonous pleasure. Somehow, having a purpose was better than being a target for no reason. She half twisted in the saddle looking at him again. "Can you tell me why?" The question seemed to be centered on what he said about her and her future or it could have been centered on the why of the past. She'd listen quietly then ask one more question. He'd been patient, answering hers, and she wanted to know more if he was willing to speak.

"Who are you? Do I belong to you now for that purpose?" She asked quietly. He knew didn't he? It should have been obvious. "We are not the best candidates for such things. They already... " She couldn't say it, not really, not then even. Quiet for a few more minutes, she finally spoke again. "They already ruined us for that sort of thing. All of us, sir. I'm sorry." She said, tucking the blanket all around her tighter. Then, more softly, she asked one more question. "Did you enjoy killing them? I know you did. I saw the bodies. I'm glad they did not survive. Men like that don't deserve life." Kavala said fiercely, suddenly awake more than she'd been the whole ride. "I would have done it myself if I had the ability." She said firmly, turning to look back at him in the saddle.

Kavala said nothing after that, silent, still searching her mind for her name and a reason why this was all happening.

[Gural]

OOCSorry it took so long. Was this sorrow or pity that he felt? Gural wasn’t the most empathetic of individuals so most of these emotions were unknown to him. He blinked slowly at hearing her story, never really relaxed fully as navigating a horse was one of the more difficult tasks for one as unskilled as he was. Her tale was a sad one, and he wanted to let something comforting slip his tongue, but he wasn’t all that comforting telling her lies. “You must always remember who you are, so you can know where you’re going. My grandfather told me that once, and he was right. Even in disgrace you should never let go of your pride, of your name and your history. I guess… everyone would want to forget the hardships you endured, but such is not the way of the world. Not all choices that must be made are easy, and not all of the right ones are hard; you might still be too young to understand some of this, Konti, but in time you will… I hope”. He was a disgrace to the race in a way too, so he couldn’t really tell her anything useful. She would grow out of her suffering eventually, and it shall make her stronger. Then she asked him the most unusual of questions. Why? He had no idea why, but could he really bring himself to tell her that? “We find them and we judge them, and we… kill them, but in the end even we never know what caused such cruelty. Past is but a history girl, and if living in the now is too painful for you; then finding refuge in the future might be the best cure for now. Still, be careful of staying that way too long, not all who seek such refuge can come back” he stopped abruptly, there was so much more he could have told her, although it would make little sense in her current state. “I do not hold you as my own, no. It is for the greater good, and hopefully a tomorrow for our race” he repeated what he was taught, words tasting sour on his tongue. “I am Gural, and the ones around us are my companions on this mission… you shall share your name with me sometime, girl”. “Beasts like that don’t deserve life” Gural nodded to her sentiment. “We enjoyed killing them, it is a sad truth, but I doubt any of us could keep our emotions disciplined”. Finally he smiled at her last words, she was a tough one. “Listen to me, you are not ruined, none of you. After all that, you remained sane which proves you are strong in spirit; that act alone would put some of our warriors to shame. We are the best warriors on the face of the world, if you hear otherwise, than you have heard lies. And we protect our women, but something tells me you will not be the one to need protection… You amaze me, you really do”. He felt somehow weird speaking with her, as anything and everything he said seemed to be so out of place and so wrong that he could not help but speak in a silent manner. The world was a cruel place, and it would have been a sin if it turned one of the gentle Konti into a vengeful maniac.