Setting Sun [Flashback][Lariat]

[Trios]

Year 501 AV, Spring 3 “Come on man it has been four seasons since that pod was lost, and you’ve been as silent as the grave since then, the new recruits have been calling ya a real rock statue with all your silent sea gazing ” Benny was but a ghost of his former self. His figure still remained large and burly but his skin, face and movements were aged to that of a man in his seventies. Benny had long since given up on hard labour but instead was more of consultant on both business agendas and ship repairs. It would have been better for a man his age to just live on a beach but there was just no way a man of Bennys age to just retire and live the rest of his days ashore, shady merchants as the crew was, retirement options were but a wet dream. The short and burly young man that was Trios sat perched on the deck rail his leather hat fluttering in the wind. Trios had always shaved every bit of hair on his face and skull to avoid the heat and nuisance it brought when working out in the sun but this had made him appear a lot younger comparatively. Trios however felt slight shame that he had been sailing with the man for the last thrity-four years but still the Isur male still looked like he was just entering manhood. Isur’s as Trios found out earily on was a race whose youth lasted a lot longer than his human crewmates. In fact most of the Crew which Trios had known from the time of his arrival on the ship Empty Night either had left the company, died or were now old men still serving on the ship. Captain Ikesod was now on the verge of old age, Trios had long seen his Captain’s youth slowly fade away with each tide on a new season. Trios however didn’t like to think of his future that much, If the Captain had decided to sell his ship and divide the shares it mean that the Isur would find himself on his own for the first time in his life. Ignorance was easy to just go with the thought that life would never change and sailing for this crew all eternity seemed like a nice idea after all. But the Isur was too deep in mental discussions to give his mentor a verbal response. All Trios did was to give the man a simple nod of acknowledgement before returning his gaze to the clear blue waters. Benny didn’t take the cold shoulder as kindly since he responded by cursing the young Isur under his breath before stomping away to go gamble with some of the greenhorns below deck. It was a nice day, Trios knew he should have been going over his routine checklist over the ship but today he just found that he couldn’t help but enjoy the headwind the ship was traveling with. It amazed the Isur how things could have been different if the gods weren’t as cruel and pitiful as they were. Work and this ship was all he had in life, it just made sense that the man should accept this fate and enjoy it. It was apparent that the gods had chosen this fate for him, who was he to fight against them. It would be a good twenty days for Empty Night to make its way down the Suvan sea along Cyphrus before they would be in the Southern Mizaharian Oceans. The Captain was debating if they should stop by Lhavit before their long journey to Zeltiva to resupply. Their cargo of spices and silks from Ahnatep had enough room for whatever they could pick up in that crystaline city. Plus there was always the possibility of selling the entire cargo earlier than expected and quick and easy gold was an idea that was never frowned on. After a few moments of watching a particular cloud drift silently in the distance the Isur gave a brief sigh before turning his back to the sea. It was time to check the lower hulls before inspecting the bilges for any indication of damage. If the day proved to be uneventful than the Isur thought he’d check the integrity of the life boats since it was almost overdue to check and see if they were still seaworthy and in working order. It was just anouther day in a lifetime of similar days a fact of which Trios had accpeted in the last few seasons

[Lariat]

The clear open water seemed to stretch on forever before the prow of the ship, as if all the possibilities of the world were before them. Sea gulls cawed over head, fresh in spirit with the new spring brought on, and swooping down quickly at the water in hopes their plunge would favor them with a juicy fish. The sun, the giant golden orb floating aloft in the clear blew sky came shined unobstructed down on the glassy sea surface, allowing it to shine in some places, and warming the timber of the deck, but not making it uncomfortable as the heat was balanced by a cool, strong headwind that powered the ship smoothly along. It seemed the perfect conditions for sailing, a sailor's favorite kind of day, where work didn't seem as hard, and time seemed to pass by fast. The kind of day where people scheduled for scrapping off the barnacles on the sides of the ship where instead assigned elsewhere where it was nice and shady, or could more take advantage of the nice breeze.

Over Trio's head the canvas of the sails crackled as the strong wind continued to push against them, the wooden beams creaking along with the popping and adding to the natural sounds of a life at sea. Even high in the crows nest, the spotter seemed to enjoy the weather, evidently because he was sound asleep, the spyglass cradled against his chest as if it was a favored childhood toy. The first mate stood idly at the helm of the ship, occasionally adjusting the wheel this way and that. Everyone couldn't help but feel at ease on this day, to forget about the dangers that the world presented, and simply just enjoy the moment along with the fortune that favored them this day. A crewman not far from Trios shouted in glee as he reeled in a rather large carp, turning out to be around three pounds when the sailor finally weighed it that night. Other men who had finished their work, lined up against the side of the ship, taking their spots and trying their luck with the lines, and catching quite a few fish for their time. One such man, lanky but toned from climbing the ropes for so many years, mumbled something towards Trios about taking up a line with them, and see if he couldn't lighten up his mood a little bit. After all the fish seemed sure to be biting this day.

Far off in the distance behind the ship, barely even a black speck on the horizon, another ship pushed on just as quickly as the merchant vessel it was chasing after, the three masted clipper cutting smoothly through the water, and slowly gaining on the bulkier merchant vessel. The sails, dyed black, where full with wind, and designed to provide the best speed under these circumstances. Before anyone knew it, the ship had cleared half the distance separating the two mighty ships, now much larger, and close enough to make out the crew scrambling around on the deck if someone looked hard enough. Still the crew lazily focused on the sea and relaxing, completely unaware of the ship fast approaching them. It was simply that they where too focused on enjoying themselves, and forgetting about the very real dangers all around them that exposed such a mistake in letting the other vessel get so close without preparing.

At last, when only seventy yards separated the two ships, a crewman lazily looked over and spotted the quick vessel, staring dumfounded in disbelief before shaking Trios's shoulder none to gently. Somewhere close to the stern, another crewman cried out in alarm " Slavers to the right side! " Men scrambled around in a hurry, adding to the chaos, many heading for their weapons below deck, while others flocked to the rail, staring out at the ship gaining on them. A door exploded open, the captain storming out of his private room to see what all the fuss was about, when his eyes settled upon the ship not far from them. " Ready your weapons men, they aim to do a bit of harm, but we'll show 'em why no one messes with the Empty Night " he growled, waving his steel cutlass in the air above him, and roaring loudly again. It seemed to help the crew a bit, and they moved a bit more coordinated now, everyone finding their appropriate place on the side of the ship, those that had crossbows, or other ranged weapons preparing them as quickly as they could.

The other ship was almost parallel to them now, cutting through the water like a blade, and men wielding longbows could be seen standing ready along the railing of the ship, their cold eyes settled upon the crew of the Empty Night. One by one in a line each of the crew of the Empty Night drew their bows to full length, sighting carefully down the shaft and seeming to pick out their targets, and watching the slaver's do the same. No one flinched away, or even backed off a step though, but instead held their position firm as the set of their jaw. These men where made of tougher stuff than ordinary people and if the slavers wanted chaos and cringing then they would find themselves disappointed. As one the two crews released their arrows, the air between the ships growing thick with arrows as men died on both sides. From where Trios stood, he was safe from the first volley of arrows but that didn't exactly promise he was safe from the next round of shots. Of to the side, a glob of fire smacked against the side of the ship, making the wood shudder and a few sailors fall onto the rolling deck.

Standing atop the Fo'c's'le of the enemy ship, a man clad in black armor laughed and pointed his great sword at the Empty night, motioning for the the robed man at the stern of the black sailed ship to lob another ball of res. Almost instantly another missile appeared, this one seemingly made of solid ice, and traveling far enough to crash against the deck, and shatter among the crewmen, scattering them across the deck, and knocking a few overboard. The shudder combined with a fist sized chunk of glass slamming against his shin caused Trios to fall face down into the wood of the deck, and just in time to dodge a throwing spear that cut through the empty air above him to imbed itself into the wooden railing on the opposite side. Across the water more shouts could be heard, as the main mast of the slaver ship tangled with that of the Empty night, locking the two ships in place, and allowing the slavers on the other ship to jump aboard and score what easy kills they could among the still recovering slavers. All was not over yet though, as another wave of men appeared, weapons clenched tight in their fists, and the man who had asked Trios to fish, moved quickly to help the Isur onto his feet before charging into the fray himself, the clash of metal soon to be all that could be heard on the deck. They shouldn't have been able to get this far.

[Trios]

Turning his head sternly to face the rigger who had been reeling a rather impressive haul from the ocean. Trios knew he didn't have the time nor the desire to relax with such trivial relaxation. Besides the pale blue man thought there was more relaxation to had in being lost in ones work than watching a line for hours on end. The leather hat on Trio's head fluttered as he casually shook down the offer, before calmly pointing down at the ship. “Someone needs to make sure this bucket stays above the water” Grunted the Isur towards the lanky sailor who had offered him a fishing line. Trios on some days swore that it must have been a human thing to need to idle away so much free time which could have be put to better use. The ship could use a good overhaul on replacing the lower deck-boards, they creaked and were warped to something fierce now-a-days. Turning away from the crew members Trios rubbed his crimson black hand over the wooden railings of the ship, was he the only being on this floating raft privy to the fact that this was their home? With that fact alone the men should have polished this girl everyday to a Zeltiva class of ship. However the line of thought was broken by a rather violent shake as another crew member practically screamed in the air that there were some unfriendly visitors on the horizon. Leaning over the lefthand railing Trios could see the fast approaching ship gaining ground on their right side. Where the hell was the look out on this? The ship was a cursed black in broad daylight! A newborn could have seen this. However no matter the excuses, Trios hated to admit but in the back of his mind he was as guilty for not seeing the slavers as was everyman aboard the ship. “Gods be praised boys! I think they made a day that cannot get any worse, booze is on me if we get out of this ...wheres my cutlass!” Trios voice was a loud rumble as he jumped down from the railing, a large groan of the deck boards accompanied the thud due to the Isur's weight. Trios didn't know what to be more concerned about, the loss of life in the upcoming fight or the amount of work that would be needed to fix the ship. Trios joined the scores of men who ran like ants in choas to prepare for the enemies who were gaining grounds on the Empty Night. The Isur even gave a loud bellow cry of courage at his captain's words, rasing his sword high in ready for the volley of chaos and blood that was to come. As the first volly of arrows smacked against both crews, Trios attention was however drawn away from the arrows to the large torrent of flame that erupted on the deck. “Wizard!” However Trios cries of warning were drowned within other raised male voices, the Isur just didn't have that voice that carried like most captains. But the young man did know that having a enemy flinging magic against you was not a good tactical position to have. Someone had to tack that magical flinging bastard down or they'd have to deal with.... A large ball of what felt like glass slammed into Trios's shins breaking up his thoughts on the situation. The man's legs were swpet out from the impact resulting in the Isur's face to hit hard against the deckboards making his upper lip bleed. Trios's head was spinning and his ears were ringing as a familiar figure pulled him to his feet. Everything was almost in slow motion as the Isur saw the enemy ship lock into his, before a flood of men began to board the ship. Stumbling to regain a proper balance the man who assisted the Isur left the dazed shipwright to join the two crews joined in battle. The sound of the clash of swords and cries of men dying slowly became clearer as Trios realized he still clasped his cutlass desperately in his hand. Shacking his head clear the Isur with cold determination tried to locate the wizard responsible for the magical attacks, usually they were in a prime position to rain down all sorts of hells on their enemies. Finding the robed man on the stern of the opposing ship, Trios spat against the wooden deck for the idea that was kicking around his head. But there was no time to come up with a better solution, the Isur charged with adrenaline running as fast as his small legs could go. Running in a direct line to where the two ships Trios didn't so much as fight but rather plough though both friend or foe using his weight and broad shoulders. And with no regard to his life, Trios launched himself over the woodening railing in a halfassed jump onto the other ship landing hard into a pair of slavers trying to board the “Empty Night”. The plan was a simple one, kill the wizard or keep him occupied long enough for the crew of the Empty Night to somehow miraculously turn the tide of this fight. The Isur would consider it a bonus if his actions had even pulled a few slavers away from boarding onto the ship. All Trios had left in his life was the ship and the crew he served for, that alone was driving the Isur to do things he normally would have liked to avoid doing. Kill the wizard, and get back to the ship, the idea just seemed crazy from the start.

[Lariat]

The deck rolled under Trios's feet and down he went in the pile of flesh that was the slavers he had knocked down. Even the odd tangle of limbs didn't mute the cries of pain, and the soft sound of metal digging deep into flesh and bone. In the nets up above battles raged, men swinging from the ends of ropes to drop down on the deck below, causing what chaos they could.

One of the bulky men Trios had toppled was rising up much faster than himself, but stopped his assent when he was on his knees, using the extra time to draw a wicked looking club with iron spikes forged into its frame and as large as the man's leg. Down he swiped at Trios viciously, the wooden tip of it grazing his shoulder with enough force to push him back a pace or two so that the man's companion could get himself up. His more wiry companion was soon up, and brandished a scimitar before slowly approaching Trios in step with the club wielding brute. A cackle could be heard from above, coming from the vantage point the fearless captain held, and slicing his great sword before him signaled his men to take care of Trios and get on with the boarding. Another fire ball soared over head, hitting the masts of the Empty Night, and catching the canvas on fire. Before the men could reach Trios, two members from his own crew imposed themselves in front of the slavers, meeting them blade for blade, club for blade.

Strong hands pulled Trios back, Benny pulling the young Isur back to get out of the more heated battle where he would surely meet his end. "Get ye head out of the clouds, we've yet got a battle to win starting with that meddlesome mage." Benny barked, brandishing a cutlass and running forward through a mass of people thick in a battle.

"Keep yer eyes on me" his coarse voice could be heard over the din. The seasoned sailor pushing his way past it and up the steps of the Fo'c's'le. The large man, clad it armor black as night met Benny at the top of the stairs, the veteran barely managed to get his cutlass up in time to stop the progress of the great sword hurtling down to slice him in half. More men moved right up behind Benny only to be caught in a fight for their lives with the elite guard of the captain. A man with salt and pepper hair, and wielding a fine rapier was to meet Trios, and immediately started off with a few thrusts aimed at the Isur's broad chest. His skills where immaculate as he danced out of the way of any return strikes, always coming in the wake of Trios's hits with a vicious speed, one such pass giving him the chance to score a minor stick into the Isur's side.

Up above Benny fought hard against the captain, working his cutlass furiously to keep the slashing great sword at bay, while the crew's fought around them. Ducking under a wide horizontal slash of the great sword, he slashed out to score a slice in the black armor before backing away just in time to avoid a vertical slash. If the hit faltered the captain though he didn't show it as he manically laughed and ran forward, slashing horizontally again in the same maneuver. Once more Benny ducked under the slashed and moved his sword to score another hit, this time in the tender thigh but before he could the captain punched out with the hilt of his great sword, the metal slamming into the man's forehead and sending him sprawling into a pile dazed. Laughing triumphantly the captain raised his great sword high.

[Trios]

The impact against the slavers took the wind right out of the young Trios, the tumble knocking off the leather hat that Trios had been using to protect against the sun's rays. It was something sort of sheer stubbornness and will power that the Isur managed to keep his cutlass firmly grasped in his hand. Growling in effort, it took Trios a few moments to get to his knees and to make the world to stop spinning before something wooden had slammed against his shoulder causing the Isur to stumble backwards in a sort of odd crabwalk. "Gak! You sons of...!" Trios didn't have time to issue a proper insult to the situation. The large human wielding his primitive weapon was joined by his companion in joined effort to put the crazy blue male out of his misery. Only a blind idiot would be ignorant to the fact that the plan had gone down to the bilges from the start. However hope comes in the form of many things, Trios round that you didn't have to worship anything and still hold onto it. This time hope came in the form of alleys accompanied by a hand that pull the young Isur from the heat of the battle. Benny was never going to let this go, granted that was if they survived this. Trios didn't know what was going to be worse death or the constant teasing that would ensue for being saved from the old man. "What do you think I was doing ya ass.....who said you could save me I had things well in control!" The last was said in a mutter to show that Trios's pride had felt a slight sting at being treated like a weak child. Following the old man through the battle towards Fo'c's'le, Trios cast a glance at the masts which now had burst into flames sending bits of alighted cloth unto the deck of the ship. This was unbearable, the slavers had no idea how much work was going to be needed for repairs once the crew of the empty night had purged their visitors into the ocean depths. Who gave these men the right to attack them, kill them in a attempt to steal whatever they had? Growling Trios pushed through the masses of combatants behind the small band of sailors on their mission to put an end with the enemies mage. The Isur, though he didn't show it was glad that he had help as it made moving though the masses much easier being able to shove aside the opposition in their wake. This diamond like formation they had naturally formed seemed to work well in splitting the crowd towards who Trios thought was the captain, all decked out in some sort of black battle armour. Kill one mage and get to take out a captain for free, now that was a deal that no man could resist. The old shipwright has seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Benny dashed up the stairs of the Fo'c's'le to meet the man in which to cut the head off the proverbial beast in a matter of speaking. But as soon as Trios attempted to assist in these matters to which Benny had started one of the captain's associates intervened with such speeds to make Trios question if humans were physically able to move that fast. For each slash of the cutlass the man had made three slashes across Trios's bare chest. The Isur's blade however simply met air or a parry while small streams of blood trickled down his blue body. From the top of his vision Trios could see Benny fight with the enemy captain with such skill in his old age to make the Isur feel in significant in the ways of the blade. A feeling of a high moral seemed to flow through Trios as he caught glimpses of the fight, but it had little effect on his own skirmish as more and more cuts and gashes were taken after each flick of his opponents rapier. But then something felt wrong, the young man didn't know what at first when his vision seemed to focus on the scene. Benny had fallen to the ground somehow? The captain of the slavers voice seemed to cackle within the Isur's brain as the young man figured out what was to come. He couldn't let the man die. Sure he was human, sure the guy was an hard ass and maybe not worth a damn to the rest of the world. But Benny was a crewmate, family to the litter of bastards that called the ship Empty Night home. Trios wouldn't let the old sailor die otherwise he couldn't consider himself any sort of man at all. What happened next seemed to occur in a word devoid of sound and feeling, Trios was sure he was yelling something he could feel his throat vibrate intensely but there was no sound. The rapier of the slaver seemed to have become imbedded deep within his side. When did this happen? Why was their no feeling of pain? It didn't matter anymore, the young male would save the old weathered old man, he could repair any damage but a loss such as this was unfixable. Grabbing the rapier with the blackened gemstone Trios called a left hand, the young man would wildly twist in right side in bringing the hilt of his own blade to swipe at the man's face in a chance to bat him off the stairs up to the Fo'c's'le or simply push him aside. Who cared if the man survived, the Isur just needed to get past the guy to stop what was happening just above him. And if the salt and pepper haired slaver returned Trios would toss him down the stairs again or just simply kill him. If the attack had been successful the Isur would pull the metal from his side before desperately reaching his left hand out as if it would do anything. Trios's mind was set on somehow pulling the man away from the final blow as he climbed a few steps towards the scene above.

[Lariat]

As the metal tip of his rapier buried in the Isur's side, the greying man cackled in glee right before the hilt of Trios's own sword cracked into the side of his skull. Over the railing the railing the dandy went, and a short splash in the water marked his plunge into the roiling surf below. More likely than not the movements of the coarse water underneath the ships with sling him up under the barnacle encrusted bottom, or pull him deeper under the water leaving little doubt as to the man's grim fate. Time seemed to go in slow motion in those moments as he moved up the steps, watching as the blade of the great sword inevitably made its way down, ripping open flesh just as Trios settled a hand on the man. The blade, not halted in it's progress continued on to sheer through bone and sinew, gouts of blood streaming from the wound to soak the sword and the deck below. With a sharp crack, the seasoned captain ripped the blade from Benny's body, and turned slightly to flash a wicked smile at Trios.

Before the Isur could even take a step forward to attack the murder, a strong gust of wind slammed into his chest, hurling him back across the deck to slam into the main mast hard enough to fracture the wood in a deafening crunch. From there he fell the remaining ten feet to the rolling deck below, shaking with another loud crack that in the dying down clamor of battle could be heard by all. One by one the rest of the crew of the Empty Night either gave up, or shouted in anguished cries just before they breathed their last. Both terrible hits radiating through the Isur's body, he would find he couldn't move, or do much of anything really than grunt, and even that took some effort. His vision slowly fading to black, the last thing he would see is a pair of black boots standing before him before at last unconsciousness dragged him into it's icy embrace.

* * * * *

The blistering sun was shining brighter now, warming the sunbaked Isur's skin in the warm, humid heat that this day in the grass took on. Course sand and dirt bit at his knees of flesh, and it would be just one indicator that he was no longer at sea. As he opened his eyes he would see others from his crew kneeling on the ground beside him, their captors standing like defiant statues behind them, holding their weapons poised at the ready to slaughter any slave that tried to make a run for it. Just ahead of him the man clad in all black, and another man wearing voluminous robes of black and silver stood easily beside him, a almost bored expression on his face despite the fact of who or more appropriately what exactly they where talking to. Just in front of them stood a small host of Zith, and while they held no weapons they made up for it with the sheer air a primal ferocity and hate they projected. The largest one stood talking with the caption, obviously at length about something important. Finally throwing up his hands the captain backed away and let the zith through to the men held in shackles, and with one with picking each a slave, they quickly walked away with their purchases. A angular female zith approached Trios, and growling out something harshly in their intelligible speech, she grabbed the shackles binding Trios's wrists before yanking him up hard and dragging him along, the group of zith all turning to make there way to their own encampment not too far from the grass.

[Trios]

The world seemed to come screeching back to the Isur. The pain, the sound and worse the realization of failure as the blade pierced Benny's chest. There's a saying that you can see the exact moment when a man loses his life. If that was the case then the old sailors final moments were not painless and quick. Wide eyed and unable to curse the pain there was a few convulsions of his body before the old man went limp. This slaver captain would pay, there were no words in which to describe the vengeance that Trios had wanted to bring upon the enemy. The sinister smile seemed to burn itself within the Isur's mind as he rushed towards the captain intent on taking the man's life in manner that would make murderers cringe. He'd pay for the crimes against the ship, the crew and the people that Trios had called a family for most of his life. What happened next however was something of a blurr. Something rather heard and powerful struck Trios's chest, it felt like a war hammer but sounded like a hurricane. It literally swept the heavy mass of Trios airborne crashing backwards into something wooden, before falling down face first into the wooden deck. Pain seemed to be the only thing the Isur felt, his back felt like it was about to break, Trios was sure the wounds on his chest were still open and bleeding and to top it all off Trios felt sure that his nose was now broken from the impact. Focus.....grab the blade.....it had to have fallen close by....keep fighting.....keep.....fighting Thought the man as the only appendage that seemed to move was his index finger as each breath was long and painful. Everything was becoming muffled and cold as Trios closed his eyes for a brief moment. The last thought that went through Trios's was that the wind sounded so beautiful against the ships, no matter what chaos was going on the wind on sails sounded so beautiful. "Pe...tch....me" Trios stammered as the man became aware of his situation. Laying face down in the sand and earth Trios didn't know if he should count himself lucky or cursed. Sure finding out your not dead is fine and all but being a injured prisoner didn't seem to create that delightful feeling one would expect when you find out your still alive. Moving only caused Trios to throw up, but could it be considered vomit when most of it was blood? The Isur had no idea as he laid his head against the warm sand. Finding it hard to rest even though his body ached all over, Trios's mind was throbbing as it still couldn't no matter how much hate seemed to flow within Trios's soul there was no getting over the image of the Slaver captain's smile out of his head. The sinister smile meant everything was over, whatever life Trios had on the open oceans was now over. As Trios's head rested in the sand, his Emerald eyes cast a sideways and spiteful glace at the figure that had picked up the chain to his shackles. A Zith and female, this couldn't be good thing. There were stories of these devils eating people or dragging them down to their lairs for unspeakable deeds. Hell as a child Trios was treated to tales of these creatures dragging lazy children out of their cots at night. The world seemed to spin when the shackles had been pulled to literally force the Isur to his feet. Clutching his sand-and-blood caked chest, Trios painfully wobbled forward when the chain was pulled forward. Using his weight rather than weakened strength against the metal chains Trios was going to make damn sure that they walked at his own pace wherever he and his captor were going. And just because Trios knew he was in no shape to fight back that didn't mean he'd be fully co-operable to the situation he was in. "It's....our...first....da...te......miss.....might want to be a bit more nice......or... I might just leave you for another girl......" Mumbled the Isur in a low tone with his head down coughing sprits of blood and sand between a few words.

[Lariat]

There was a rough tug on the end of the chain binding Trios's wrists that sent him sprawling face down into the dusty earth of the grass. Before he could even rise up, the female zith was on top of him, pressing her knees painfully into his back, while grabbing a handful of hair and ripping his head back to look up into her cruel eyes black eyes. "Say something else, I'll spill your blood on the sand and dance in your entrails" She said, her common broken and barely understandable but still she punctuated the point by spitting in his face and letting his head drop back into the dust before slowly rising up and planting a clawed foot on the center of the Isur's back. Pressing as hard as she could she tried to crunch him into the ground as much as she possibly could, laughing in amusement at how the Isur squirmed underneath her. Dropping down on her knees to land solidly on his back once more the Zith ran her claws along his back, the sharp digits scrapping against the surface of his hardened skin and leaving little cuts in it's wake. The sight of the blood seemed to put her in a frenzy, and with heavy strokes she clawed at his back, dragging her claws down it hard to get deeper into the tough skin.

"Vicious, stop at once" growled a tall, broad shouldered zith with deep red fur, his common rather impeccable for one of his race. Bones, and other trinkets lined the thin harness that adorned his chest. With a motion to the other zith, they all threw down their prisionors in unison, pinning them down before removing the shackles and tossing them collectively into a pile. As one the human slavers came up and gathered the shackles and in turn handed the zith's lengths of rope which they promptly put to use retying up the newly acquired slaves.

Having roughly removed the Isur's shackles, Vicious looped the rope over Trios's hands before twisting it several times and driving it through another several loops till she was sure the knot would hold. Tugging at the binding as hard as she could she checked the ropes strength by standing up, and pulling at the struggling Isur beneath her in order to get him back on his feet. Before he would even be able to respond though, the zith would backhand him hard across the face before turning around and storming off, the end of the rope playing out taut to drag Trios along for the walk. Against her own claws Vicious sharpened her thumb nail that had grown too brittle for defense or even offense. She spat again at some imaginary foe before her, yanking Trios along as she followed the leader of the zith party to that from which they laired, him of course being the most well learned of the over all geography of the region for the simple fact that he kept well educated slaves that provided more than enough help over the years to come out on top.

Soon a smile spread on many with faces, their eyes widening at the sight of their beloved encampment just in the distance. Over to the side one of the zith argued with a older, larger one over just who deserved what slave. As Trios watched on it looked as if the bigger one would back down, but even as he turned to do so his arm flashed out in a lighting quick back hand, his wickedly tipped claws carving neat little lines into the other zith's throat, and so down the smaller zith went onto it's knees, gasping for the life saving breath that would never come. The party left him behind long before he finally collapsed to the ground, showing no emotion for their fallen brethren other than the great benefit a extra slave would be for the family of the large zith that had killed the other. If Trios kept his eyes forward he would see the not so subtle wink from her to her partner just across from Trios, and with a toothy smile, he grinned back.

Finally they had reached the smattering of flatten grass, and makeshift tents that they had known as home for so long, and moving around the camp, more than one zith greeted the group with anxious happiness. The dark red with that seemed to call the shots now stood in the center, a lanky man with a bloodied face kneeling beside him, and with a disgusted cursory look at group before him he spat into the surrounding dust before moving to each slave in line, starting with the one farthest from Trios. Zith might have been monsters in their own right but the way this one examined these slaves was uncanny as he lifted up the chin of the second, and then tested the arms and legs for strength. He repeated this cycle several times before stopping on the fifth one. The leg had buckled under the light slaps he was giving to test out the strength of the man's leg, and not wasting a moment, the zith's hand flicked forward and then suddenly the man's throat was gone, and blood was now pouring from the gaping hole now there. A solid kick to the chest and then the man was gone from the zith leader's sight, much to his delight and he continued on casually checking all the other prisoners in turn. Finally he came to Trios and motioning for the zith woman to pull Trios up to his feet, he slowly started cursorily started patting the Isur down.

[Trios]

Looking back at what was said, one could really count Trios among the stupid ones on Mizahar but the young man had been through allot in the last few hours. The Isur's brain didn't know what to digest first, the fact that his home had been destroyed, his shipmates slaughtered and the fact that he had been sold into Zith hands. Gasping and wheezing with breaths that seemed to be almost too difficult to take into his lungs, Trios locked eyes with the she-devil. It wasn't that Trios wanted to look into the eyes of the ugly creature but rather he was being forced to. Cringing in pain it was hard to return a look of disgust back towards the Zith, Trios's vision was just teetering on losing consciousness again. What happened next was something that seemed to take the man off guard. Trios was on the verge of weeping from the pain on the combination claws of pressure on his injured back. The only thing keeping Trios from wailing his displeasure to the world was the fact that his body wasn't taking enough air to let him. When was the pain going to end? Could a man endure the pain of having his skin ripped from his back? Gasping for relief when someone had stopped the pain, Trios cast a look upward for a second hoping it was his Captain leading a charge to save his captured crewmen. Instead what the Isur got was an image of another Zith simply ensuring their prize stayed alive. The realization seemed to hit him right there that no one form his crew was going to save him. A sinking dry sensation seemed to creep into the Isur's chest as he was pulled up to his knees have his shackles replaced with rope. Dizzily looking down at the rope Trios knew for a fact that the bitch-devil was making sure he couldn't break free of his bonds. Who in Ivak's sweaty cage would put seven loops in a single knot unless they wanted to make damn sure that no one could untie them. Something also seemed to streak through Trios's vision as he looked at his bindings. On a better day Trios would have seen the backhand, but as the gods could see he was having a rather difficult day. It brought the man to his knees, head throbbing and spinning. This had done it, the Zith was going to pay along with everyone who considered this day a victory. Thoughts of violence against the woman seemed to keep the Isur moving forward, that and a stubbornness that seemed to back ages within his race. The Zith race however, Trios thought would be better off dying bloody with the slavers that brought him here. Watching one particular scene play out it was obvious that these things were just beasts masquerading as intelligent beings. Coughing in pain, Trios couldn't help groan at the idea that the violent female pulling him was a mate to the violent male which had just killed one of its members over an argument. Though now it was plainly obvious why they liked each other, they both seemed to bath gladly in the violence they wrought upon others. Stumbling painfully through the encampment the blood still slowly trickling down from the claw marks on the blue Isur's back. The injuries on his chest had finally leaking red thanks to the sand and dirt that seemed to have plugged the gashes and holes. When the march of captives and captors had finally stopped though, Trios fell back to his knees due to the fact that he was still trying to find a portion of his body that wasn't sore or screaming in pain. Tilting his head down the man was ignorant to what was going on around him. All the sounds seemed to blend together as did his vision. It was like looking at the world which had been distorted and fuzzy. A few specks of blood fell down from Trios's broken nose as the man tried to focus on the earth below him. Where was he again? He knew he was tired up but why? He knew there was some reason for that, but it somehow seemed to evade the Isur. The pain seemed to be the only thing keeping him form closing his eyes. Something than jerked him to his feet, Trios cast a few drunken glances around at his situation. Some Zith had begun to pat him down, feeling every aching muscle in his body. That made sense that there was a Zith here, thought Trios. He had been sold by the slavers to Zith, the only real disturbing notion was why had he juts forgotten that? "Gid yor hands orf-me" Growled the Isur in an almost drunken manner as he instinctively tensed his body while weakly trying to shake the creatures hands away. Not that it would have mattered being devoid of most of his strength. It was reminiscent to a child trying to wiggle free from something that was far too strong for it to even be feasible to escape form.

[Lariat]

The zith growled at even a slight resistance to his testing, and before Trios could even comprehend the growl a furry elbow launched itself forward to slam into his jaw and knock him dazed onto the ground. A heavy kick soon followed to break through the wall of that dazzling pain, his foot claws slashing through to Trios's flesh and sprawling him further across the ground, then still following him, the red furred zith kicked him several more times for good measure. "Don't speak till spoken to" he growled, his eyes narrowing at the bloody mess of a man at his feet. The zith turned and headed back into the encampment with those parting words, his wings carrying him the rest of the way after only a few steps. Rope still yet in hand, the female zith with grey hair at last seeing the attentions of the master directed elsewhere chuckled and cruelly jerked the rope taut pulling the struggling to fall face down in the dirt, and with surprising strength dragged him across the grass. Together mate and zith met up ahead, his black fur glistening in the fading light as he took the 'burden' of the rope and dragged it faster along. Two other such 'burdens dragged alongside Trios, both men having simply given up on struggling and accepted what awaited them, after all being captured by the likes of a zith was as grim a prospect as could be out here in the grasslands.

Both zith hauled them the rest of the way on their shoulders, stepping into a tattered tent of cloth and bone, and setting Trios down in the midst of two other men. Vicious watched from a corner, a wicked smile played over on her lips as she watched her lover, Ravage ready the slaves. "Ravage, want to play with the slaves?" She asked in a teasing way, and her eyes delighted to see the humans squirm. Simply looking up at her in response, the male zith with a snap of his wings launched himself at her kissing her hard, and intertwining with her right their on the floor. Both human's turned away in disgust but did their best to be quiet about it even as startling screams erupted from the erroneous couple. Before him the tent flapped in the breeze, the fickle wind having decided to have it's turn at allowing a bit of a view outside. Out there it was a mixture of the same thing where in some tents zith could be seen madly copulating, where as in others they where trying to tear their another's throat out. It was the way of the zith.