○ Common ○ Rakahi ○ Pailtic ○ Hussian ○
30th Trial of Ymiden, Arc 717
Ymiden had given way to warm days within Rynmere and any amount of travel saw nature flourish lively in the embrace of the summer season. Even Andraska seemed more open with the woman, smiling more, conversing more— he was much more open than Freya and his energetic personality drew everyone to him like moths to a flame. Even the distant Ne’haer girl.
She found her days filled with lavishing luxury. Her sweet tooth was almost always satisfied and her cravings for drugs quenched quite readily. The way her attention made the Venora Lord react gave Freya hope that maybe she could find a home here. At first, it was a simple temptation to keep hold of these luxuries, but Andraska had been too kind to her and as such, tempted her to planting solid roots where she lay.
His servants would still followed her, and while she loved being as grossly inappropriate as the Lord, she found humor lacked from her shows whereas it always sprouted from his. The Biqaj didn’t care as much anymore. It was easy to get use to this way of life.
Visiting the market place often, Andraska would provide her with enough gold to fetch what she desired, but tasked his servants to ensure she never purchased anything dangerous. Which is why she lacked a health set of the sharp and pointies that would normally be strapped within her boots, waist, sides, and back. She also lacked any sort of leather barrier between the air and her skin. Instead, her weapons were replaced with jewelry, oils, and perfume, and her clothes— fine fabrics so soft, they melted over her body to catch the breeze. Her hair had grown to drape over her back and the tattoo she’d purchased in honor of the things she’d lost burned brightly in the sunlight, it’s red-orange design appearing fiery and frightening.
The marketplace was buzzing with activity, as it would be in Ymiden. Freya decided she would attempt to cook tonight and so, plucked some ingredients from the stalls, exchanging gold for them. She took no notice of those around her as she knew to expect no familiar faces within the crowds, though sometimes she wished it.
The servants escorted her back to Lord Venora’s estate after a few short breaks, and she went about preparing the meal with little success. She’s planned to do a simple salad and roast dinner. Preparing the salad was easy enough, washing the veggies to later dice them into edible size before throwing it all into a bowl. Then came the roast. She was told to season it before putting it on the spit to cook, but was unfamiliar with how much of the seasoning to place. So she lathered the meat in it till her nose burned from the smell before putting it on.
Of course, the meat burned due to her lack of attention because of the lovely drugs her keeper purchased on her behalf. It kept her backed so well, she mistook the smell of burning meat for the scent of a burning blunt and was sorely disappointed to find the charred crust of a meal in its place.
Groaning, she took the meat off and made her way outside before tossing it to ground. Andraska’s pet would enjoy it if she could not. Shutting the door without locking it, Freya waved off the meal, finding that Andraska hadn’t come home yet, and ventured to her room.
The drugs brought on an exhaustion that saw the woman curl up on top of the sheets, having not removed her clothing, jewelry, or shoes while the breeze from the open double doors pushed its way into her room. Sighing upon its gentle caressing, Freya faded into sleep.
She gasped, reeling forth. Hands grabbed hard at her shoulders and while her mind tried to tell her it was Andraska, her body rejected that assumption. It was on full alert. The man behind her grunted as her elbow swung back and connected hard with his nose. Another turn saw her leg swing up and her foot connect to his thigh. Freya had missed his groin.
Those same hands force her into the bed by her neck, trying to secure something around her wrist and it was then Freya realized that he’d managed to tie rope there. That must have been what woke her.
“Get off me..!”
She breathed, anxiety flashing. “Get off me!”
The man said nothing, trying to tame her free arm but Freya wouldn’t go without a fight. Quite easily, she turned hard into the mattress so she was facing the intruder, but the shadow of the room concealed his face too well to make out features. In an instant, she jerked hard on the attached to her wrist, cupping her hand only to swing it against his head and ear. It dazed him, causing his body weight to shift off her. That was all she needed to stand up quickly and ram his body into the wall, head first.
His hand released the rope, Freya taking the opportunity to make a break for the door. But she only got as far as opening it before the intruder yanked her back into the shadows and something heavy collided with her head…
Freya awoke momentarily, the gentle rock of the room she was in queuing her brain to recognize she was on a ship. But why? She couldn’t figure. Maybe Andraska’s “little friend” had stolen her for whatever purpose. Maybe this might have been a cruel joke played by the Lord himself. Freya hoped to believe the latter but she knew better. No. This was a bad situation and she’d been kidnapped…
The noise of shouts and splashing water echoed from above deck just a few bits later. Then, even sooner, light shined on her face and it was then, Freya realized there was a bag over her head. Really? Feeling the ties on her wrists, the biqaj knew they were just loose enough to squeeze her hands threw if she was willing to rub them raw to do so. Strong hands grasped her and, faking sleep, threw her limp body over a sturdy shoulder.
“I’ve got her. Get on the ship.”
A familiar voice told, causing Freya to stiffen slightly. Why was that voice familiar?
Other shouts and hands later and the woman was placed against wooden railing while a crew busied themselves around her. Freya had been kidnapped onto a ship…
“You want her in the cabin?”
The same voice called out. “I’ll remove the ties then, let her give your ass a beatin’.”
That voice was now crouched in front of her, and she could feel the string of the bag working around her neck, loosening till just the moment light blinded her and Freya jerked forward. Her forehead smashed into an unknown face and she heard the man fall against the deck before she was overwhelmed by others.
“Get him up!”
“What the sard?”
One voice after another assaulted her ears and all Freya could struggle in the bindings. She only managed to free one hand before her arm reached out and clawed at an unfamiliar face, grasping him by his beard and pulling hard. “Why am I here?!”
She yelled, yanking the man as she too was being pulled back. They were trying to separate them but she pulled harder. “Tell me where I am scab, or I will kill you first when I am free of this foul prison!”
In the end, they had to cut his beard off him to get her away. A burly man tossed her over his shoulder yet again, taking her through several doorways before finding a particular large one and stepping inside. He took no care of her, tossing her to the bed, and left rather quickly. The slam of the door, as well as the lock sliding into place, told her she was stuck wherever they’d stashed her.
Quickly, the woman worked the rest of the restraints from her body and looked around. This wasn’t just any room they threw her in, she guessed. It was being lived in by another, and quite spacious and homey at that.
Where the sard was she?
Freya cursed and swung herself from the bed, her dress sliding over her legs and tugging at the sheets as she left them to lean into the door and listen. She couldn’t hear anyone…
Slipping from the door after a moment, she shifted to the wall and waited for when it opened again, ready to fend off whomever brave enough to step through.