Closed The Pushover [Dravite]

[Kaitanu]

The 27th Day of Fall, 515 AV

It had been a strange few weeks for Kaitanu. Ever since waking unexpectedly in the vast grasslands, he had felt as though he was living in some odd kind of dream. Perhaps the giant eagle that had carried him off had killed him, leaving his bones to bleach in an unknown land while his spirt wandered abroad, thinking itself still bound to mortal toil. Sometimes he thought that could be the only answer, though everything about him seemed real enough. He still became hungry, he still needed sleep; the sun warmed his skin as ever it did. Every sense gathered information like it should. Yet here he was, walking from outside employment to his master’s home like the other freemen around him. There were slaves here as anywhere, but Kaitanu felt somehow different from them, separated by a change in his fortunes which he was only beginning to comprehend. Dravite’s broken Common could not convey the bewildering truth to him; Kaitanu did not think of himself as “free”. Nevertheless, the world around him had shifted, and even if he could not follow the new rhythm he understood it was there.

Oddest of all were the nightly rituals that awaited the kelvic. Instead of harsh demands to account for his every move that day, Kaitanu was left to go about his chores like the others. As the sun disappeared below the horizon he would find himself eating alongside Dravite and his family around the campfire, listening to them share news of the day. The first time he had been invited to join them, Kaitanu was completely non-plussed. He had taken it as a command, but why any master would choose to eat alongside a slave was beyond him. Now it was part of every day and night, to join with the family, listening to their chatter- though he didn’t understand it at all- and watching the children as they climbed over their parents and fell asleep in their mothers’ arms. Toward himself there was a shocking lack of violence from the family. More than that, Kaitanu was not set apart from them, but placed in their midst, eating the same meat, allowed to warm himself by the fire. Not just allowed, encouraged. They even made the effort to speak to him in Common. Confused as he was by this behavior it did not change from one day to the next. Fear and distrust were very slowly being eroded away, though what they would leave behind even he could not tell.

As he was thus caught up in his thoughts, Kaitanu still kept his eyes and ears open. It was a habit of old; hard-won and necessary for survival. The slender kelvic had become rather talented at avoiding contact as much as possible, and not just because touch still made him shudder. Kaitanu slipped between tents and bodies for the same reason he tried to be small and go unnoticed by others. If there was anyone in the marketplace least inclined to make trouble it was the pale, quiet horse man. In his black clothing, and with the sky going toward twilight he could blend into the shadows quite well. Only his pale head and face drew attention. Among the many earthen hues of the Drykas he couldn’t help standing out, no matter how much he tried. Mostly, Kaitanu drew stares, but that was about it. Those in the marketplace were too busy with their own concerns to heed his presence for long.

However, there were enough eyes looking for weakness that found him a tempting target. Like predators, they scented weakness in the air. Maybe they recognized the tattoo over his right cheek for what it was. Maybe they saw in him the broken spirit that would make for good sport. His humble demeanor didn’t fit well with the proud and confident air of the Drykas any more than his strange appearance. He spoke no word of the grasslands, but only the rough tongue of outsiders. In their mind he was out of place. Even to the foreign visitors the kelvic meant nothing, except to those who liked to push others around. Kaitanu might not be surrounded by the telltale jingle of a coin-purse, but either side could see him as a potential target. The thin, pale young man was clearly not a fighter.

From the very first night, once work was done, Kaitanu had been aware that he was being watched, and that it was not out of mere curiosity. On the second night, he found himself being rather unsubtly tailed. For all the kelvic’s submissive attitude, however, he had a goodly amount of experience navigating busy streets, as well as getting through with both his life and goods. Well, master’s goods. Woe betide the slave that was sent out on some errand or other and “allowed” a cutpurse to steal it from him. Kaitanu might not have money, but no thief would mind having an extra pair of boots or a slightly-used shirt. Knowing this, and that the clothes on his back belonged to Dravite, the kelvic was not about to let himself be caught out. He didn’t know, nor did he want to think about, what sort of punishment the Ankhal of Blackwater would visit on his head if so much as the belt was taken.

Deftly, Kaitanu slipped in and out of shadows, or mixed with the crowds in the main thoroughfare if those following him got too close. Whatever it took. Given the close-knit nature of the community, and the relatively small number of people when compared to Ravok or Kenash, it was more difficult for thieves to hide their designs. By the fifth day they were starting to give up on him- since what he had to steal was not worth the effort. There was, unfortunately, no shortage of those just looking for someone to push around. Nor did there seem to be as much social stigma for roughing someone up. In spite of his natural avoidance, Kaitanu couldn’t stay out of everyone’s way. He accepted whenever he was pushed or shoved without comment, so much so that, just as the thieves turned to more lucrative targets, bullies began to find him interesting. He had plenty of new bruises under his clothing to prove it.

“Hey, pretty boy!”

Kaitanu didn’t understand the words spoken in Pavi, but the horse dung thrown at the side of his head sent a clear message. Only a quick movement of his hand kept the smelly blob from getting all over his clothes. With a weary sigh, Kaitanu shook the filth from his fingers and onto the dirt, bracing for more. These things never stopped at something so light.

“Come on, foreign rat, answer us! Or can you not?”

“Of course he can’t. He only speaks the barbarian’s language.”

There followed a string of mangled Common, mostly foul words, strung together meaninglessly. Peals of laughter accompanied the obvious parody as Kaitanu walked on, not even bothering to look in their direction, but picking up the pace a bit. The Blackwater pavilion was still a ways off. Not that Kaitanu expected anyone there to come to his rescue, but seeing adults there might make the youths fall back and return to their own homes. It wasn’t as though he could duck out of sight in the bare grasslands between the tent city and his master’s…Dravite’s…pavilion.

“Hey…hey you, we’re not finished!”

Footsteps trotted through the dirt behind him, punctuated with barely-suppressed laughter. Something hard hit him in the back of the head- a rock. Not a large one, but enough to make him stumble a bit. Another hit him, then another. Pretty soon he was being pelted with stones as well as laughter. It wasn’t the first time. Kaitanu righted himself and kept walking, but the footsteps caught up with him. A tall, burly youth with dark hair stepped right in his path, and three others kept the kelvic from stepping aside. They weren’t quite as tall, but definitely heavier than the slight former slave, circling around him like wolves.

“Answer me when I speak to you!” the tallest said, again in Pavi. He began to push Kaitanu’s shoulder, as though trying to get his attention, or just to see how far he could go. The group of youths had already learned that this pale man wouldn’t fight back when they saw an older man punch him in the side of the head. Kaitanu had not, as they expected of other Drykas, returned blow for blow. He had fallen to the ground and then gotten up and apologized when he was clearly not to blame. Not only that but no one else came later on to call the man to account. For some reason that amused the bored youths.

“Knock him down!” One of the boys said eagerly.

“Yes, do it!” The others chimed in, chanting. They had circled Kaitanu and were now shoving him from one side to the other, laughing because he allowed it to happen. The kelvic was keeping his head down out of habit, not afraid so much as resigned to whatever they were going to do to him. Fighting back against the sons of freemen was unthinkable. Even a baby might have pushed him around with impunity if it knew how.

The unintelligible Pavi was interrupted by a sudden explosion of stars in his left eye. Kaitanu had more or less expected some kind of blow, but hadn’t bothered to try and block it. He even let himself be pushed backward, rolling into the ground out of instinct, rather than just slamming into it. The grass cushioned his fall somewhat, but was no protection against being kicked in the side several times. Surrounding him, their faces dark in the evening twilight, all four youths laughed quite heartily at what they were doing to the pale slave. Kaitanu didn’t cry out or try to get away, lying there like a ragdoll and utterly at their mercy. The thought never entered his head to try and stop what was being done to him. It certainly wasn’t the worst beating he’d ever gotten. Kaitanu knew from experience not to react, instead patiently waiting for the whole experience to end. The youths would get bored and move on to another target. Hopefully, Kaitanu could get back to the pavilion and wash the dirt and dung from his clothes before Dravite knew the difference.

As expected, Kaitanu was not such fun to bully as others might be, and the youths soon grew tired of kicking him about. Still laughing, they left him in the tall grass, their movements making a “swish, swish” noise that grew fainter as they vanished into the twilight. Kaitanu stayed where he was for a long while after, as if to make sure that they would suddenly burst through the foliage and start all over again. It seemed, however, that the smell of many dinners roasting over open flames had called them home. They were done with him for the day.

Getting painfully to his hands and knees, Kaitanu took a few breaths, then pushed himself onto his feet. Around him, the deepening dark of blue and grey-gold spun a bit, but not much. So long as he didn’t move too suddenly his abused midsection wouldn’t rebel and make him nauseous. Kaitanu stood for several minutes and let the chill air flow over him as night took her appointed time in the sky. Meanwhile, and almost without conscious thought, the he mentally assessed the damage. The kelvic was somewhat surprised that their blows focused mostly on his midsection. Other than a black eye and a few cuts his face had been left alone. Nothing was broken, either; just bumps and scrapes and deep bruises. It could have been a lot worse.

Still, breathing was painful, and he had to pause to get a good rhythm before heading back to the Blackwater Pavilion. By then the home fire had been lit, and Kaitanu followed its warm glow with relief. Perhaps he was starting to think of that small collection of tents as a haven of sorts. In any case, he had never been abused there, which was more than he ever could have expected. It was certainly better than what he had just gone through, no matter how normal such violence was to the slave. Kaitanu needed very little to think his lot not so bad as it might be. His only thoughts were of getting something to eat, and hopefully hiding his dirty clothes from Dravite. If he could get to sleep with something in his stomach and no further trouble then the day would not have been a bad one at all.

[Dravite]

He'd seen them, skulking around like vultures waiting on a wounded animal to draw its last breath before moving in to take advantage of an easy meal; that's why when Kaitanu turned up at camp looking like he had been dragged through them mud by a wayward stallion, Dravite was ready to split skulls. The horse lord stopped the Kelvic with his stare, one Kaitanu had seemed all too happy to avoid previously when he had found it harder to look a man in the eyes. "Kai," the man called, "who?" He pointed to the young man's shirt and raised the wood splitting axe he was holding up over his shoulder.

Like a piece of twine spun too tightly, to the point of breaking, the man let his anger get the better of him, bringing the axe down with a thud so hard and heavy that it split the piece of wood he had been working on in two and sent both bits across camp. Sparrow, who had been sitting near the fire pit, flinched and her father, Raven, Dravite's uncle, got to his feet slowly wondering what had upset his nephew. "I'm sick of this," the wheat haired man spoke in quick, musical Pavi, casting the axe away from his hands, "I'm going to sort this out!"
Raven grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and stopped him ten paces from the street, "wait, calm down, they're only kids."
"Who should know better!" Dravite argued.
"And what good will a beating from you teach them?"
The watchman growled like a disgruntled dog, "manners."
"It will make them bitter, you know this; then the next person they run into too timid to fight back might not be able to walk away from the ordeal like Kaitanu here has."

Dravite's temper was like a storm; it came out of nowhere and often subsided after a good bout of thunder. The muscles in his arms and across his chest were taut and when he breathed out one could almost count the smooth stones he must have eaten in order to get a stomach like his; a masterpiece even the world's best marble carvers would have trouble replicating. Only a harsh environment bore men like Dravite, and only his kind ever survived past their first summer; if Kaitanu was going to build a life with them, he needed to learn to defend himself.

He moved to stand in front of the moon bleached man and took his jaw, turning his face up to inspect the skin around Kaitanu's eye that was already beginning to darken. He didn't inspect Kaitanu like a slave master from Ravok or Kenash might check on his merchandise, scanning him with profit-trained eye, rather, his caress was firm but gentle; the hand of a father comforting a son. He brushed Kaitanu's shorter hair back from the edge of his face and sighed, "Fight," he managed to recall the common word, "defend Kaitanu."
Raven sat down but looked up from his work to translate, "you need to learn to defend yourself, boy; Dravite can teach you how."
As Raven spoke, Dravite looked down at the boys belt; it seemed he hadn't been carrying his dagger with him, perhaps a blessing on this particular occasion, "fight Dravite," the horse lord encouraged, "teeth, hands, eyes," he bared his teeth like a dog defending his territory; intimidation was half the battle.
Raven chuckled, "I don't think he has it in him," he called in Pavi.
Dravite smiled, "then I shall instil what so many have fought to take away from him."
"Pride?" Sparrow piped up.
"Self-worth," he replied before turning his attention on Kaitanu again, "fight," he encouraged, smacking the young man on the chest half-heartedly with the back of his hand, "fight Dravite."

He stepped back and narrowed his gaze at Kaitanu, reaching out to knock at his thigh or take a swing at his chin, bumping the Kelvic's jaw playfully like he had done with his friends when he was younger and they would all coax each other into little scuffles. Poor Kaitanu had been through a lot and seemed as if he would rather slip away to bed without a meal, unnoticed, rather than get into any kind of confrontation with the pavilion Ankal.
"You better hit him, Kaitanu before he puts you on your back," Raven smirked.
"Go Kai!" Sparrow chimed in playfully, "get him!"
"Hands high," Dravite coached, "protect," he pointed to the man's chest and jaw, not having the words for these body parts in common, "fight!" He demanded and pushed the man back forcefully, testing his footing.

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[Kaitanu]

Once more the pale kelvic was thrown for a loop by Dravite’s unaccountable behavior. At first he had thought, and not unreasonably, that the Drykas’ anger was directed at himself. Dirt and dung stained the clothing that had been bought for him, and Kaitanu well remembered the last time his master’s property had been soiled. When Dravite raised his axe, the kelvic thought with terror that it would be used on him. Yet the blade fell harmlessly downward, flashing red as the firelight caught its edge.

Only a moment’s relief was afforded the kevic, who stood motionless just outside the warm circle of the fire, an arm clutching his abdomen. None of what passed between Raven and his nephew was intelligible, especially since it almost looked like the uncle was trying to keep Dravite from beating Kaitanu. That was an odd twist to things. Raven had previously watched the kelvic with eyes full of mistrust, as though waiting for him to step a toe out of line. His resemblance to someone Kaitanu couldn’t quite remember hadn’t helped the impression. The slave could always feel Raven’s eyes on him, even when his back was turned. It was therefore a surprise when the older man held his nephew back until he had calmed himself. Or, perhaps, not so much of a surprise. Dravite would regret the waste if he killed his slave in a fit of rage, as many had done before him.

Of course, Kaitanu was as wrong as could be about what was really going on. It never occurred to him that anyone would be angry on his behalf. In fact, that whole concept was so foreign to the kelvic that he could not have conceived of it if he tried. That was why Dravite’s gentle touch was so unexpected and, even more than that, his words.

”Defend Kaitanu.”

The object of his scrutiny wasn’t prepared for those words to be put together. Once more he had to assume that Dravite’s meaning was lost in translation. However, Raven’s clarification muddled things a bit. Why did Kaitanu, a slave, need to defend himself? Why was Dravite looking over the wounds on his face, completely passing over his filthy clothing? If not about dirtying the clothes he had purchased, Dravite’s anger must be for some perceived slight in the youths’ behavior. Had their thrashing of the pale kelvic somehow shown disrespect to the Blackwater Pavilion? It was not uncommon for masters to take insult if their slaves were roughed up too badly by someone else. This had nothing to do with care for the slaves themselves, but a personal affront. Anyway, it was the only thing that made sense to Kaitanu.

What made no sense at all, or rather, what scared and confused him almost beyond sense, was when the Drykas insisted that Kaitanu fight him. Just when the kelvic thought his situation could not get any stranger, Dravite pushed the envelope, leaving the pale man weak in the knees. Fight him? His master? Raising so much as a finger against a freeman, especially the one who owned him, meant a painful and lingering death. The very idea caused his sore muscles to lock up automatically. He stood before the Ankal like a bird before a snake, too terrified even to breathe. For a moment, it looked almost as though the kelvic might keel over as his heart suddenly stopped.

Dravite had, without meaning to, put the white-faced man in the midst of a terrible conundrum. His words, broken though they were, had been clear on at least one point. Fight Dravite. To Kaitanu that was a command; absolute and unequivocal. To disobey was not in his power. Yet, in this case, to obey would mean death. Already the Drykas was swinging at him, but Kaitanu’s instincts were so twisted that he didn’t so much as lift an arm to shield himself. The most he ever did in such situations was to shut his eyes tightly as his mind nearly ripped itself apart trying to figure out what he should do.

“You better hit him, Kaitanu, before he puts you on your back.”

Another command added to the weight of doom on his shoulders. Neither Dravite nor Raven could have known the agony they were causing him, and that it was the force of their perceived commands that at last brought his thin arms, shaking, to cover his face. Slaves were not supposed to even do as much while being punished, so that little bit was a big step. Kaitanu didn’t even bother to try and stay on his feet when he was pushed to the dirt. Instead, he lay there, hands still raised, as though he was some kind of odd statue that had been toppled from its plinth.

Raven’s smirk turned to something of a scowl. He’d seen plenty of young fighters knocked to the ground, but unless they were unconscious- or worse -they got back up at once. Kaitanu was very obviously not out for the count, but his will to resist was not there. He showed no more instinct to shield his vital parts than if he was a dead thing. The kelvic’s behavior was unnerving to the older man.

“Boy, get up!” he half-growled. “Up! On your feet and fight!”

Kaitanu did as he was told, but it was clear he had no idea what to do. He just sort of stood there with his arms up in an awkward imitation of a boxer. The kelvic had seen street brawls and even professional prize-fights, but there was a world of difference between that and trying to do it yourself. Especially when every fibre of your being prevented you from ever lashing out against an attacker. Kaitanu could not even count on anger to fuel him; if he ever felt that emotion in his life he could not remember it at all. Not even the beating he had just received brought up anything but the usual resignation.

“Hit him, boy! Fight!”

“Get him, Kai!”

Sparrow and Raven were both shouting at him; Dravite’s broken words directed his actions. Still, Kaitanu didn’t understand what was expected of him. Was this one of the mind games he had been expecting since day one? A sort of damned if you do, damned if you don’t situation? Even if he couldn’t recall it exactly, both the rock and the hard place seemed familiar, as well as painful. Worse still, Raven seemed to be getting impatient, perhaps angry that his commands were not being followed. If Dravite was looking for an excuse to rain violence on Kaitanu- as though he needed one -the kelvic would have to hand it to him or face the consequences. He had hesitated to obey direct orders long enough.

With a lurching stomach, and clear terror in his eyes, Kaitanu balled his right hand into a fist. It took a supreme effort to curl his fingers in such an unusual way, and even more to aim it at the man he thought of as his master. But aim he did, awkwardly, terrified of what would come after. He didn’t go in for a second punch, standing there with his hand still in a tight fist, as though unable to believe what he had just done.

NoteKai doesn’t know how to hit, but he also doesn’t know how to control his enhanced strength in such a situation. He’s stronger than a regular human because he’s a horse kelvic. Use that information how you will.

[Dravite]

When Kaitanu went to ground and made no attempt to right himself or protect a playful nudge from Dravite’s foot to his leg, the horse lord stood utterly confused; what had happened to this poor man and whose hands were responsible? Dravite stared perplexed, if he ever crossed paths with the monster that had reduced the Kelvic to such a pathetic state he would show the man what real torture was. The horse lord stood back and licked his lips like a fighting dog awaiting round two; that was if they could ever get Kaitanu to throw a punch.
"Get up!" Raven scolded; disbelief laced his tone, "fight him!"

When Kaitanu got to his feet Dravite went at him again, this time with his hands low, not expecting the clumsy punch that was thrown his way; untrained but strong enough to startle an ox. The watchman stepped back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, sure now that the metallic taste that had gone over his tongue was indeed blood. The Drykas man turned to look at his uncle and saw that shocked surprised written all over his face too.
"So he can throw a punch after all," Raven waved in Pavi before congratulating Kaitanu in the common tongue.
Dravite didn't like common, he found is lazy and repulsive; Pavi on the other hand was graceful, quick spoken, and required an active mouth, "He is strong," Dravite admitted, "If he had hit me properly I'd feel it tomorrow."
"And the next day,” Sparrow laughed.
“Then he needs training," Raven agreed and slowly got to his feet, slipping out of his shirt.

Much like the younger Drykas man, Raven's chest was also decorated with intricate tattooing, but unlike his nephew who was relatively free of scars, for every day of fall, it seemed Raven had a scar dotted somewhere on his body. Dravite peeled his shirt away and undid his belt, setting it down out of harm’s way where his children would not be able to reach it.
"Watch," Raven pointed to Kaitanu before moving to stand across from Dravite, "we will teach you how to protect yourself in a fight."
Dravite grinned and switched up his stance, putting some space between his feet and holding his hands apart, low and at the ready, "what you got, old man?" He teased.
Raven scoffed, "I'll make you eat those words along with the dust."

Dravite laughed and Raven sprung at him like a hunting cat, catching his left arm at the fold and his right just below the shoulder. Dravite swung at his uncle's side, making the elder suck in a breath before the two switched holds and seemed to take each other's hands, wrestling until both of them were on the ground, Raven on top of Dravite and after some struggle, the other way round until they switched again.
"Get him, dad!" Sparrow encouraged, getting to her feet to watch the action.

Raven slammed Dravite back against the earth and went for the face, using the man's dreaded, long hair against him by clasping a fistful in order to pin the boy. Dravite, ever the resourceful soul, managed to scratch up a fistful of dust and slapped it against his uncle's face in an attempt to throw him off or temporally blind him. The older man was stronger, but not quite as quick and Dravite managed to kick him off while his guard was down. Raven brought his fist down in a counter attack and Dravite managed to roll out of the way just in time to see the man punch the ground. The two kneeled a few feet from each other, both staring breathlessly for a few long ticks before they started to laugh and it seemed Sparrow couldn't help but find the situation amusing too.

When Dravite finally got to his feet he helped his uncle up and dusted himself off before tying his hair back with a leather strap and readying himself for round too. "What do you think?" Raven spoke in common, "he's about your size, a little on the thin side though."
"Maybe an inch or two taller," Dravite observed.
"Who do you think would win in a wrestling match?"
Dravite glanced at the young Kelvic, "I'm starting to think my money is safer bet on him."
Raven laughed, "You could be right there. Kai," he waved, "come, you must learn so that no one will push you down in the mud ever again."

It was Kaitanu's turn to face Dravite, who was now covered in dust and earth, his lower lip painted with blood, sporting prominent, red scratch marks drawn down over his shoulder and chest where Raven had tried and failed to grab hold of him. Dravite's hands hovered a few inches from either side of him, set at the ready to defend himself, for he would let Kaitanu make the first move with a bit of Raven's encouragement of course.
"Don't be scared," Raven told him, "hit that man like you mean it and don't let him pin you down."

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[Kaitanu]

For a few terrible moments Kaitanu stood rooted to the spot in abject terror. If he hadn’t locked up at once his shaking knees would have sent him crashing to earth. The kelvic wanted to beg for forgiveness, for mercy. Unconscious of Dravite’s true thoughts, he saw the startled light in those brown eyes as anger. For the first time in his life, the slave had drawn his master’s blood. He hadn’t wanted to, had not even tried to, but terrified memories of past torture now swirled in his head like muddy water.

To his shock, the torrent was dispelled moments later by the wholly unexpected reaction of the others. No swift retribution came down upon him as he expected. The pole and lash were not called for, nor the hunting dogs. Raven, the man whose familiar face sent his blood cold, was actually congratulating him. What kind of game was this? Confusion settled uneasily around fear and made Kaitanu light-headed. He blinked dumbly as both Dravite and Raven squared off against one another. A brief wave of panic had accompanied the older man’s disrobing, until it became clear what his purpose was. Dark, disconnected memories had to be hastily put back in their boxes. Raven was giving him an order, and the pale kelvic did not dare disobey. However, he could not watch the fight that ensued without inwardly wincing. Otherwise, he was totally dumbfounded at the other men’s behavior. It had not occurred to him that anyone would want to do such things for enjoyment. Yet there they were, two grown and muscular men, dirty and a bit bloodied but laughing. How was that even possible?

Kaitnau had tried to watch what they did, and how, but this point of bewilderment kept distracting him. Therefore he was unprepared when the scuffle ended, and their attention was once more on him. He was used to being discussed in the third person, but they couldn’t possibly be serious in what they said. Wrestling matches? Betting money? Unless… His heart skipped several beats. Perhaps they wished to train him to be a fighting slave, to win money in the ring… But then Raven spoke, and Kaitanu didn’t know what to think at all.

“Come, you must learn so that no one will push you down in the mud ever again.”

The pale kelvic looked blankly at him, though without meeting his eyes. Why should it matter if he was “pushed down in the mud”? Was it not the right of every freeman to treat him as they wished? Kaitanu had certainly never questioned why others caused him pain. That had been the normal state of things his whole life, and he assumed it would be until he died. Just as the rain would continue to fall and the sun would rise every morning, Kaitanu would be the subject of beatings. Yet, Raven’s words indicated that there was somehow something inherently wrong with such treatment. How was that even possible?

While he was thus occupied with revolutionary ideas, Raven moved in close to him. Instinctively, Kaitanu froze, both hands at his sides and head bowed as though waiting for some sort of abuse. It was his default pose when unsure of a situation, and he could hardly be more confused than he was now. However, all Raven did was to guide his limbs so they mirrored Dravite’s. The kelvic barely had time to register that his touch had been light before the older man spoke again.

“Don’t be scared. Hit the man like you mean it and don’t let him pin you down.”

If he had known how, Kaitanu ought to have laughed. The whole scenario was so out of his ken that Raven might as well be speaking in his own unintelligible language. Mean it? How could he mean anything? Especially with his fists! The moment his first one had connected with Dravite’s face all five fingers unraveled with the shock of it. Didn’t “meaning” something have to do with desire? If so, nothing could be further from Kaitanu’s thoughts than to lash out at the Drykas standing before him. Quite aside from the fact that a slave shouldn’t have any desires of his own. Did Raven want him to have that desire to mean it? As though that made any sense. Somehow he had drawn his master’s blood and was still breathing. That made even less sense. His brain was ready to reject the whole idea out of hand, but Raven had given him an order. Kaitanu considered it to be so, anyway. In spite of everything his body had already started to move forward as though it was his very instinct to obey.

Across from him Dravite stood, slightly bent and looking like a spring ready to be released. In the firelight his muscles were heavily defined, and his eyes glinted with an excitement foreign to the pale man he faced. He was a seasoned campaigner, fearless and spirited. The horse kelvic couldn’t help thinking of a predator sizing up his prey, like a wolf among goats. That thought was not encouraging. Desperately, Kaitanu was trying to think of how Dravite and Raven had moved against one another when they were fighting. He was supposed to hit his master, somehow, but the second time was as hard as the first. Having no idea how to move in a fight, Kaitanu skittered in and aimed another awkward strike, this time at Dravite’s shoulder. A few feet away, Raven snorted.

“No, boy. Like you mean it. You have more strength than anyone will expect. Use it!” The older man was gracious enough not to say out loud that Kaitanu moved like a dead lizard on a pole.

Pulling back, the kelvic re-formed his fingers into a fist. They did not seem to want to stay that way. In the firelight the blood on Dravite’s lip looked black. Had he really done that? Then, remembering that the two Drykas had removed their shirts and belts, he did so as well. Kaitanu fully expected to be beaten to a pulp, but at least the clothes Dravite had bought wouldn’t be damaged. They were dirty enough already.

A chill breeze hit his bare skin and Kaitanu shivered a little. At the same time, however, it felt rather good against his recent injuries. Dark, angry blotches mottled the pale flesh around his abdomen and sides, mingling with his many old scars. Dravite would be hard pressed to single out one individual to return such marks in kind. Kaitanu had no shortage of masters since his birth, and he could remember none of them clearly, except that torture was the norm. His present state would have told anyone what sort of men -or women -they had been. On the other hand, he would seem to those watching as unaware of his new injuries as he was of the other long-healed marks. If not for his slight build and shy demeanor, they might have made him look like a warrior.

With a slow breath, the kelvic once more mirrored Dravite’s fighting stance. Afraid as he was to draw any more of his master’s blood, he also feared to disobey orders. As Dravite’s feet shuffled a bit in the dirt Kaitanu’s did the same, but without real purpose. He was still just trying to figure out how to do what was expected of him. In the end, all he could think of was to go in for a punch to the abdomen. Perhaps his eyes had seen an opening, or he was just striking out blindly and trusting to luck.

[Dravite]

Raven was a good teacher and for those willing to listen, he had a lot of valuable knowledge to impart. In the firelight Dravite's dull blue eyes, grey his mother deemed them, flashed silver. He had the look of a lion, there wasn't much he had trouble staring down, though he was mindful of how sensitive Kaitanu was to such looks and kept his gaze lowered as if to watch the Kelvic's hands instead.

The young man's untrained strike at his shoulder saw Dravite try to step back out of the direct line of fire in an evasive move that wasn't quite quick enough to see him go unscathed. He smirked, hoping the smile might encouraged his sparring partner rather than have the opposite effect. The horse lord got in a few playful strikes on the Kelvic, swiping low at his thighs or landing an open palm against the man's jaw; but a bit of rough housing, nothing too serious. Dravite wanted to build up the man's confidence and let him see an evening spent in training was just part of the norm among his people.

Sparrow called encouragingly from the side-lines, though most of the time she was more than happy to join in; tonight she was having fun just watching the boys get down and dirty. When Kaitanu landed a hit to Dravite's midsection, it took the man's breath away, and not in a nice way either. The watchman tried to laugh it off and held his hand up to stop the match, taking the opportunity to pause and teach Kaitanu something that might help him later.

He opened the half man's balled fist before closing it again slowly, this time so that he wasn't grasping his thumbs, "no hold," he scolded, "punch hard, thumb break; not good," Dravite smiled and smacked the man's shoulder before moving back into dodge.

The game of cat and mouse made for a good warmup, but things needed to get a bit more serious if he was to land any of his own strikes on Kaitanu. The taut sheath of muscle across his stomach complained and reddened but didn’t darken, unlike the Kelvic whose light skin seemed to bruise like a peach, the Drykas man's sun bronzed complexion was harder to tarnish.

As the two of them circled, Dravite bared his teeth, teeth that were far too nice for someone who worked with horses and were bound to get knocked about sooner or later. Perhaps the intimidating little gesture he meant to distract Kaitanu with was a little mean, but if it gave him one up on the hard hitting Kelvic, Dravite was willing to take it. He dove at the man then, closing Kaitanu's arms against his sides in an attempt to wrestle him to the ground, using one of his feet to trip him while he kept his balance with the other. But if indeed he managed to get his opponent to ground, he would follow up the take down with a blow to cheek; that was only if the horse man couldn't stop him in time.

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[Kaitanu]

It was good that Dravite corrected the kelvic’s way of making a fist. The moment it made contact with the other man’s stomach, Kaitanu felt a ‘pop’ in the joint of his thumb. Thankfully, that little bit of pain didn’t herald a dislocation. He didn’t know how to put much power behind the attack, for all his enhanced strength, otherwise both men might have broken bones.

Like his daughter, Raven was content to stand by and watch, stepping in every so often to encourage or correct the kelvic. Each time, Kaitanu made a mental note of all he learned, adding to what he observed in Dravite’s behavior. At present he was not doing so for the sake of knowledge, but out of fear of making a mistake. Kaitanu still did not understand why he was being taught how to hurt another being. Later on he would come to know that, for all his leonine presence, Dravite was a gentle man. Then, he would see the encouraging smiles and calming body-language for what they were. Such a realization would take a long while to settle and replace all his pre-conceived notions. For now the kelvic looked upon his master with fear, hidden behind his usual mask of near-blank obedience.

In spite of Dravite holding back at first, Kaitanu’s skin was indeed beginning to bruise. It always had done, even if the kelvic himself felt nothing afterward. He had a tremendous tolerance for pain which belied his frail appearance. If utilized properly, he could, in time, become a fearsome opponent, though perhaps a staunch defender was better suited to his temperament. Even then, it would have to be a defender of someone else. Kaitanu still automatically gave in to whatever might happen to himself. Such was not the making of a fearsome warrior.

“Up, boy! On your feet!” Raven’s deep voice echoed in his ears. Kaitanu’s previous training had come to the fore once again, and he was on the ground without even trying to get away. A new bruise on his cheek was not the only payment for being distracted by Dravite’s wicked grin. In the firelight they had looked like fangs…

“Roll away!” Another order came to him. This time, the kelvic tried to do as he was told, twisting his body in the dirt so he slipped out from under Dravite. Then, staggering to his feet, he slipped backward into his clumsy fighting stance. In the back of his mind, Kaitanu was beginning to wonder why Dravite had chosen to go so easy with him. His master was clearly faster and more skilled than he was; Kaitanu should have been a bloody pulp by now. It could not be because he was merely trying to teach the kelvic. Slaves were not given any quarter during the learning process. In fact, Kaitanu had seen many others like himself perish in the first weeks of servitude. For a slave, it was either sink or swim. Why were Dravite and Raven being so, for want of a proper word, lenient?

The strange blue-green of the kelvic’s non-blackened eye reflected the firelight, wide and dark and a bit glassy, but he was beginning to think about his next move. At first he had been afraid to strike out at all lest he be punished. Now he was starting to consider the problem from a different angle. They wanted him to fight. Would he avoid future pain by dealing it out to another? Kaitanu didn’t really comprehend their reasoning, but thought he might as well go on this assumption. Perhaps his new master had a predilection for being roughed-up? Was that why Kaitanu had been kept? Because he looked too weak to do lasting damage?

As Dravite moved in, the kelvic quickly retreated backward, but kept his feet moving in a circle around the other man. Both hands and arms were raised, and his working eye was fixed on Dravite’s movements. The next strike that came at him he took across one arm, while his other shot out a bit blindly. Kaitanu wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he did try to mimic Dravite’s previous movements. Once certain of his own footing, he kicked out with his leg toward his master’s knee, dancing backward because he didn't know if it would work. Right now Kaitanu was just trying to avoid being struck if he could.

[Dravite]

Dravite wouldn't let the man escape with such ease, grabbing at his fleeing limbs in an attempt to wrestle him back into play, scratching at nothing more than the loose material of the Kelvic's pants or the dust in his wake. The horse lord rolled back across the earth to put some distance between them before getting to his feet again. Though Kaitanu seemed unsure, he also looked to be getting the hang of their game.

When Dravite approached him a second time the Kelvic threw a wild punch that collided with his arm, throwing him off balance as he tried to steer aside and lash out again, only to almost trip and then have his feet taken out from under him. The kick that connected with the horse lord’s leg saw him wince and shake off the sting as he got to his feet once more. Dravite rolled his tongue over his dry lower lip and tasted the blood that was still there, strong, he signed to Raven, "kicks like a horse," he laughed, speaking in Pavi.

Raven stood up and moved between them, holding his arms out, "enough for one day," he smiled at Kaitanu, "look at the boy," he scolded Dravite who protested with a wave of his hand, "he's had enough, and you know as well as I do that he will let you beat him black and blue before he protests."
"That is why I worry," Dravite admitted, "what if those boys attack him again?"
Raven was quiet for a chime before turning to Kaitanu, "those young men that attacked you today," he spoke in common, "if they ever touch you again, you kick and punch them as hard as you can and then you find Dravite," he pointed to the dirt covered man, "and he will see to them."
"Fight," the watchman nodded.
"You think he understands?" Raven asked.
"I think he hears you but I believe he interprets the things we say differently."
Raven nodded, "sit," he ordered, waving at the space on the log near his daughter Sparrow.

Dravite put the large pot over the fire and emptied the contents of a water skin into the pot to heat up. After a chime he tested the water before lifting it away to set at Kaitanu's feet. He took a rag and folded it up, soaking it in the warm water to then put in Kaitanu's hands, "clean," he said and made the motion for washing as if he were scrubbing his own limbs “clean Kaitanu.” It wasn't long before Dravite joined him having wandered off briefly to find another washcloth.

The young Drykas man washed his arms, face, and chest clean before trying to shake the dust from his matted hair. He drowned the cloth once more to wash Kaitanu's back with, features twisted angrily when he thought about what those boys had done to the Kelvic; they shouldn't have to watch him and walk him to and from work just to make him feel safe.

Dravite passed the washcloth into Sparrow's hand to finish what he had started before marching off to the main pavilion tent. When he returned a few chimes later he was holding his freshly polished torc, a silver ring of woven metal decorated with the head of a lion on either end; it was probably the most expensive piece of attire the man owned and when he set it around Kaitanu's neck he smiled, "let them know he is cared for," Dravite said.
Raven nodded, "you are safe with us," he told the Kelvic, signing the word safe so that he might pick it up, "special," he touched the torc, "you are Blackwater."

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[Kaitanu]

Raven’s smiles conveyed little to Kaitanu; his words even less. Pavi sounded like so much musical nonsense to him, but at least it was a pretty language. If his imagination had been more free, the kelvic would have compared it to wind among the grasses, or perhaps bird-song. At the very least he could get an idea of how his masters were feeling by the tone of their voices. For now, that was all he wanted. The fight had ceased, and neither Raven nor Dravite sounded angry about it. Why that was he couldn’t have guessed; they both appeared to be sharing some sort of joke between themselves. Perhaps this was how they got pleasure out of their slaves, by proving how strong or skilled they were in comparison? The whole fight may have been a not-so-subtle way to remind him that he could not overpower them and escape.

This theory, like so many others, was thrown almost immediately into disarray. The moment Kaitanu thought he understood what was going on the proverbial rug was snatched out from under his feet. In clear, unmistakeable Common, Raven was ordering him to retaliate against his attackers. Naturally, Kaitanu would obey his master’s wishes. At the same time, the very idea of fighting back went so against his training, so against the very rules upon which the world hinged, that he began to tremble a bit. If push came to shove, the pale slave would be battling more with himself than any outside force.

Unsettled, but hiding behind his usual near-blank mask, Kaitanu went about cleaning himself automatically. His thoughts and wary gaze were on those around him, expecting some fresh display of insanity at any moment. For him it was ever-changing weather with such masters; one moment calm, the next stormy and striking out like lightning. Except… these masters didn’t follow that tried and true formula. They were like snow in Summer, or rain without a wisp of cloud in the sky. Little they did made any sense. Just as he finished dabbing the blood from a cut on his side, the wet rag was taken from him and Dravite… his master… the man who owned him…. began to wash his back.

Panic rose like a lump into Kaitanu’s throat, but he forced it back down, desperate to stay in control. One false move might set his master off completely.. but wasn’t he already to that point? In what reality did it make sense for his master to be washing him? Their roles should have been reversed- Kaitanu at Dravite’s back with the washcloth, but he hadn’t been ordered to do so, or he would have done already. Was this Dravite’s way of telling him that he had slipped in his duty?

Now Sparrow had taken over, and there was Raven, standing by with a thoughtful expression on his eerily familiar face. Eyes that reflected the firelight trailed over Kaitanu’s bare chest and shoulders, resting at last upon the dark mottled area about his ribs. The kelvic shrank beneath that glance. In some twisted way, he had felt more secure when he was being beaten by the boys from the market. With them, at least, he knew where he stood. Here among the Blackwater clan he had no idea what to expect. Every moment he expected the other shoe to drop, but other than the “fight” with Dravite he had not been so much as cursed at. And neither the sparring match, nor the beating, had caused him that much pain. Certainly not what he was used to. It was as though Kaitanu had stepped into a weird dream from which he could not wake. Amid the confusion, part of him wondered if he even wanted to. A small part, but significant.

Almost without thinking, Kaitanu’s gaze drifted to the slave tattoo on the back of his left hand; the mark of Ravok. That world was dark and full of pain but it was all he knew. Being in this place, with its topsy-turvy rules, made him feel as though he was on a wayward boat. Any moment the tipping point would come and he would truly be drowning.

As it turned out, Kaitanu was closer to capsizing than he thought. Hearing Dravite’s footsteps his gaze turned upward, just enough to catch the glint of silver in his master’s hands. Barely had he time to register what was there, and to guess how much it cost, when the cool weight of the metal rested against his skin, right over old scars around his neck. A collar… Kaitanu had worn collars before, but none so fine or delicately made. He didn’t understand. It seemed utterly out of place in this rough and tumble world; certainly too fine for a slave. Did Dravite want him to look appealing for the moment? A few horrible suppositions twisted his stomach, but Raven cut them short.

“You are safe with us… special. You are Blackwater.”

Never had the slave shown so much of what he was feeling, especially in front of a master. Long ago he learned to hide behind a doll-like facade in order to survive. Yet those simple words seemed to strip that away from him, and for a moment, Kaitanu actually met their gazes straight-on, something he had never dared to do before. In his normally glassy eyes they would see a multitude of emotions, confused and painful. Pale features pinched, cracked lips parted unconsciously as though aching to release some long pent-up noise of fear or frustration.

Almost immediately, the pale young man had bowed his head once more, even as tentative fingers brushed the metal of the torc. Seconds before they had mimed Raven’s in making the Pavi sign out of blind obedience. Behind the mask his mind was reeling as it had done from the moment he woke up among the grasses. Seventeen days of freedom were not going to erase years of conditioning, yet he was being introduced to a bewildering new set of ideas. "You are Blackwater" could have meant simply, “you belong to the clan as property”, but safe? Special? Terms never applied to a slave were being aimed at him like the softest of arrows, piercing deeply.

“Safe…special…”

Unconsciously his tongue and lips moved to form the sounds to words that should not belong to a slave. Yet there they were, rolling out and into the world without reprimand. And there were Dravite and Sparrow and Raven, all looking at him without anger at his slowness. Kaitanu barely felt the ache of his ribs, or the throbbing in his left eye. Pain he could take, but their kindness was starting to break him in ways he didn’t even know existed.

“Blackwater… I am Blackwater…” Kaitanu thought without making much sense even to himself. He didn’t- couldn't- understand...

[Jashkataal]

“Heroes know that things must happen when it is time for them to happen. A quest may not simply be abandoned; unicorns may go unrescued for a long time, but not forever; a happy ending cannot come in the middle of the story.” ― Peter S. Beagle, The Last Unicorn

 

Dravite

Experience

• Brawling +1
• Intimidation +2
• Leadership +2
• Persuasion +2
• Teaching +2
• Unarmed Combat +2
• Wrestling +3

Lores

• Kaitanu: a broken spirit
• Kaitanu: surprisingly strong
• Raven: is a good teacher
• Raven: is a skilled combatant
• Raven: be aware what our actions sow

Miscellaneous
What an enormous and detailed character sheet -which was a pleasure to read on its own. More than that, your character sheet really brought your character into view; and even though this was one of the first times I've read a post by you, Dravite felt familiar.

 

Kaitanu

Experience

• Brawling +1
• Endurance +2
• Observation+3
• Philosophy +4
• Unarmed Combat +4
• Wrestling +1

Lores

• Twilight in Endrykas
• The feel of a blow
• Dravite: hidden gentleness
• Dravite: is a skilled combatant
• Raven: is a skilled combatant
• The wrong way to throw a punch
• Unarmed Combat: proper hand technique

Miscellaneous
I really enjoyed reading your posts. More than once I found myself laughing out loud, much to the confusion of those nearby. I'm not sure how your previous city was, but I am very glad to see your character in Endrykas. There is some lovely writing on his internal thoughts and his confusion in his new setting, that I really enjoyed.

If you have any concerns, please do not hesitate to send a PM. Also, please remember to abide by the appropriate grading guidelines for your city. As always, the pleasure was mine.

Regards,
~Jashkataal