• Graded • Cornered

Atop a stony plateau overlooking the lands of central Idalos, and growing wealthy from the gem stones pulled from the rocky soil, Etzos is a bastion of independence; firm in its belief that man should rule Idalos, not be servants of the vain Immortals who nearly destroyed it. But can the many factions set aside their conflicting agendas and see this through?

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Nightshade Eld
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Posts: 789
Joined: Wed Aug 10, 2016 5:43 pm
Race: Mixed Race
Profession: The Best Hero
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Wed Aug 02, 2017 2:02 am

Cylus 11th, 709

15 arcs, nearly 16, had passed since the raven-hawk had come into the world with all the spirit and strength of a fighter. Such a nature over arcs of abuse had been buried in the back of the raven-hawk's mind. Despite how her father had tried to raise her, the Master had made sure of such. And yet to the anger of both the Master and his son, her nature remained stubborn and unchanging as it was always meant to be. Her strength of spirit had faded, but her desire to help others and do what was right could never wane. From that desire she fostered the strength she was born with. Through that desire, she made herself out to be a threat. And a threat had to be dealt with, one way or another. In the house of the Master, it was usually another. His plans often didn't make sense to the raven hawk or even his own son, but the Master had been plotting this day for some time. And now it was finally time to put the plan into action. With time and effort it would yield the result he demanded of the situation. And yet, stubborn half-breeds could never be taken down in such a childish and convoluted way.

The torches and lanterns cast hungry shadows dancing across the wall. It was starting to get late and Nightshade had made a mistake. She was down a dark hall completely and utterly alone. Her mind couldn't help but bring up the ever cautious thoughts of what happened to her dearest Grace a couple of arcs ago. Night had promised herself neither of them would be caught dead alone in the hell hole of a building alone and at night. And yet her history class had run a touch too late, and now she was standing among the ravenous shadows hoping that she would be swallowed up by the darkness before Ivan caught sight of her. She stretched her wings once or twice, allowing them to graze along the sides of the hall. Her father had told her that her wing span was larger than average, making it in her mind a marvel why she couldn't fly. Unfortunately, those large and powerful looking wings had also been born painfully weak and without much muscle control due to a complication during her birth. Just another to add to the list. She pulled her wings back in tight. Even if they couldn't fly her away they were still large and soft, the feathers fine and velvety like the locks of ebony springing from her head that the Master wouldn't allow her to grow out long. Her father had always commented on the fact her hair was just like her mother's in texture and nature.

Red Brand sat comfortable to her hip. The Master had never liked the fact she had the blade, but it was the one thing she refused to let go of. The Master could bully her all he wished, but she would never give up such a precious gift from her father. Funny enough the beatings had decreased in frequency ever since the blade came into her possession. Perhaps he was starting to fear her to the same degree he feared her father? Or maybe it was something more malicious. Either way, the half-breed could care less as long as she was left be.

A tingling sense of fear wandered into the back of her mind. The girl turned on her heels almost immediately as the hair on the back of her neck stood at full attention. The torches that lined the walls did little to pierce the darkness and the 30 trials of shade kept the world outside the same color as pitch. Darkness, the absence of light. Truly an apt way to describe what she was, pure nothingness all around her. She wasn't a half-breed to most, but the absence of a person. Treated as such.

The half-breed relaxed slightly as she failed to locate anything that could be described as a threat, only for a hand to dig into her shoulder and spin her about. The world moved around her quickly and she felt her back collide with the wall before she had time to respond. The back of her head smacked the wall hard and there was a dizzying sensation that came with the contact. Her mind churned as she tried to process what was going on around her. The disgusting and foul mug of an all too familiar menace was the only thing that met her. She could barely see anything past the enormous, up close face of Ivan. His breath was disgusting, the stale and acidic reek of old alcohol contaminating her breathing space and making her think that dying of oxygen deprivation was a good and valid option, all things considered. The man made the effort of pinning her arms, apparently remembering what happened the last time the two met in a dark hallway. Funny enough, hadn't it been in Zi'da? How history repeated. Two arcs, but a single season later. Here they were again. Night couldn't help swallowing hard, trying to force her nerves back into her stomach. Being the sadistic slime ball Ivan was he picked up on it almost immediately.

"Aww, what's wrong little bird? It's not like I'm going to hurt you or anything. No, my sweet little black bird I have no intent to wrong or defile you. I just wish to talk. But you'd run away the trill I tried to approach, so sadly this was the only option. If you'd work with me perhaps we wouldn't have to be in this situation," the bully said. Making it sound like it was her fault, a common and effective tactic, but she'd dealt with it before. He released the girl and took a step back to prove his point. Yet he stayed close enough with a tensed body posture so he could lunge or defend at any moment, depending on if the half breed wanted to flee or fight her aggressor.

"Oh yes, what a lovely conversation I could have with the man who tried to rape my best and only friend," the half breed said with a snarl. Her eyes narrowed feeling emboldened by the fact the Master was nowhere nearby. She'd never speak so crassly in the presence of the old man, but his absence left a sharp spike to her words and age made her bold. She was quickly becoming fed up with her treatment, the itch to fight was clawing at the back of her mind. After all, she had no reason to hold back. Well, she had a vague sense of a reason. During her father's stories, the topic had trailed to Immortals a good once or twice. Ethelynda had already caught her eye being as she was the Immortal her father followed, but her father's descriptions of Immortals were always in such little detail that she had never thought much of it. Her understanding of the grand beings other people thought of as gods were vague at best. The nearby city had a strong effect on the land belonging to the Master and the farmers that lived there, so there was also the Immortal hate coming from Etzos to factor in. Technically it did still belong to the Master, but the old man was the closest one could possibly get to a noble and as such held the land and the farmers who worked it.

"Point taken. But I was young, that was two arcs ago my dear and I have never touched another woman since. The scar you left was enough of a reminder to what could happen," the man snarled with a bitter look of resentment. There was a strange satisfaction Night got from that. The look in his eyes proved it, he hated her and didn't want to say what his father was obviously forcing him to say. The fact she left a scar had her smirking like an idiot on the inside. The word hate was something that at one point Night might have claimed didn't exist in her vocabulary, and yet there was no better word to describe how she felt about Ivan and the Master. She hated them with every fiber of her being. A vicious and dark emotion that she tried to suppress, but none the less existed. And perhaps that was a good thing. "That's all besides the point though. I have a request. Or more so I have to be the messenger of my father's request." The sad excuse for a man paused as if he himself was struggling with forming the words to say the request. "Marry me," Ivan said trying to hold back his look of disgust.

It was hard, no, it was impossible to explain and accurately capture in words the series of emotions that Night went through. Though explaining could very well be attempted. The first thing that smacked her in the face was an acute sense of anger as well as disgust. Wait, no, that was sugar coating it. There was a visceral horror, an appalling sense of shock and gag worthy repulsion, and a general sense of "Immortals kill me now", that hit the girl in waves as she tried to process exactly what the ugly beast standing in front of her had uttered. Was he speaking in tongues? Perhaps he was delirious? Maybe he had been replaced by a Becomer. That would be good, it meant that the real Ivan was most likely dead and she could be swept off her feet by someone who was maybe really super handsome and she'd finally be attracted to another living being. The closest she'd ever gotten she probably shouldn't say, lest she risk her only friend.

"Are you serious?" She asked. Her voice sounded a bit distant. There was a tone of distaste in it that she hadn't intended to be there. There was just as much disbelief to her dismayed vocal cords. Not a single fiber of her being could believe this was actually happening. Her own body was rebelling at the thought in a demand for a proper explanation from the he-beast.

"Unfortunately, yes," Ivan said. He seemed to be just as disgusted with the idea which was ticking Nightshade off even more. "Like I said this is the diabolical decision of my father. Not me. As if I would ever choose some half bred mutt of a woman as my bride. You can hardly be called a proper wife, but don't worry. As soon as the old man is dead I'll be trading you out. Would you rather fake your own death or actually die? After all, divorce is a pain. Becoming a widower is easy. Eh, I'll just throw you into the woods and report you as missing," He said with a huff. Night didn't miss the small smile that quirked the corners of his lips as he imagined the power he'd have over her.

"Well, since it seems like neither of us want to go through with this plan, I'm just gonna go this way and pretend this conversation never happened," the half breed said with a hesitant half smile slipping off the direction she'd pointed.

"Unfortunately I can't let you do that," Ivan said as one arm wrapped around her waist. The other tried to cover her mouth. The half breed acted fast opening her jaws wide and slamming them downwards the moment Ivan's hand came into grasp. The man screamed out in agony as she sunk her teeth as deep as she possibly could. The taste of hot iron flooded her senses and she had to hold back from gagging. She did her best not to swallow any of the disgusting liquids produced by Ivan's body. She kept biting until she finally heard something snap, at that point she let go. Ivan was too preoccupied writing in pain to notice her darting away. Her feet pounded down corridors with reckless abandon until she felt them slip out from under her. Her body vaulted forward as the pain of falling on her face shot through her.

The girl didn't give too long of a pause though. She got right back up and started sprinting with the intent of putting as much distance between herself and Ivan as possible. She didn't stop until she got to the rooms that she and her father shared. The older pure bred avriel was sitting and reading a book when the smaller and younger half-breed swung the door open, jumped inside the room, and slammed it shut behind her.

"What's wrong child?" The man asked.

"Papa... we might have a problem," the little one returned. She wasn't exactly sure how to explain what happened to her father.

word count: 2197
Common ~ Ith'Ession ~ Lorien
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Prophet of Old
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Wed Aug 09, 2017 3:21 am


Points Gained: 10

Detection: Tensed muscles
Etiquette: Sometimes things slips when you hate a person
Running: Recklessness leads to tripping
Running: Good for putting distance between yourself and others
Running: Speed is key
Running: Get right back up when you fall

Comments: Really nice memory thread. I really like how... normal... Nightshade is to me. I like it.

word count: 68
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