When Two Dreams Collide

Noth and Faith, sitting in a cage... having a bad day!

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When Two Dreams Collide

Saun 10th 716


Faith was walking through a woodlands, the gentle sunlight peeking through the treeline and the birds were tweeting and singing gently. It was beautiful, serene, idyllic and utterly peaceful. She was walking, barefoot, but that was fine because the grass was soft and just cool and wet with morning dew. It was a truly lovely time and as Faith danced around a tree, giggling and throwing back her head in delight. Her long black hair flew out behind her as she spun and she was wearing a strappy black dress which had a tight bodice and a long skirt. It was flowing and pretty and her hair was gleaming clean and cared for. Cared for. That was how Faith felt these trials. She slept on a mattress for the first time, she was fed and she wore beautiful clothes. All in all it was a good time to be her. So, as the birdsong harmonised into a melody, with bunnies bouncing around and holding out her hand for the deer to sniff at her, Faith danced and sang and basically enjoyed herself scandalously.

Singing to herself, she swung around, skipping around a particularly large tree trunk and there in front of her was a man. Large and scary-looking, she skidded to a halt and was so busy focusing on him that she didn't realise that the skies had darkened and the birdsong fallen silent. He looked at her and he smiled; he had no teeth and his grin was not friendly or welcoming. He held up a rusty knife and nodded his head to behind her. Faith felt a sense of dread harden in the pit of her stomach and she turned around to see that the big, burly scary man had three friends with him, who were now surrounding her. Where were the creatures? Where was the singing and the sunslight and the dancing? She tried to ask them, but she could not speak and she looked between them with fear and dread and she wondered if she could run.

But she couldn't run, because her legs didn't work. She was glued to the spot and she tried to scream but nothing more than a hoarse croak came from her mouth as one of them stepped forward with a bag in his hands. As he lifted it over her head, the world went black.

Thrashing around on the mattress she slept on, Faith's dream grew dark and unpleasant. She felt arms grabbing at her, wrapping around her and lifting her off the ground. How were they managing to pull her hair when she had a bag on her head, she wondered wildly, but then she was being carried. The smell of the inside of the bag was rank and smelled like wet fur (in the waking world, Tristan's cat was sleeping next to her - it was that she smelled) and then, she felt herself become briefly, beautifully, gracefully weightless before landing with a resounding, painful THuMP next to and mostly on top of something.

But her hands and legs were bound, so she did not know who or what or where. She struggled, trying to make sense of which was was up and which way was down and all of that other basic stuff.
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Noth
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The day seemed especially quiet in the forest when Noth had awoken. Usually there was the faint chipper of birdsong, or the occasional ruffling of bushes to usher his activities, but today it seemed there would be no such musical accompaniment. It was strange, but he couldn't quite remember what exactly his tasks for the trial had been, and had instead simply decided to hunt for an animal of some manner. His talents had been wasted by the past few trials, and an eagerness crept into his heart at the idea of downing a large beast of some manner. He had met many hunters throughout the earlier Arcs of his life, and most had stated that whilst they enjoyed the thrill of the hunt, they didn't quite joy in the act of killing the animal. When he had been younger, that idea had been shared by the young hybrid, but after the incident he found himself taking exquisite delight in predating the wild inhabitants of the woods.

There had been times when the forest noise had died down to the mere faintest of echoes, but that had usually followed intense storming, and the twilight Avriel had no knowledge of any recent harsh weather that might have driven the beasts to hiding. He hastily searched through his collection of goods, and retrieved his well-crafted longbow, and it's arrow counterparts. The hunter swiftly set out into the wilds, taking careful notice of nearby landmarks, and mentally creating a map to avoid becoming terribly lost as he traveled. Noth trampled upon the ground, stomping down weeds, and flowers alike in his search for signs of prey. Eventually, he came across what appeared to be a particularly massive hoof print impressed into the dirt nearby a patch of berries.

He had tracked animals before, but usually it took far longer for him to find prey than this. It felt uncouth to thank the Immortals as many hunters would at such a sight, and so he simply continued along the trail in search of the promised quarry. The feathered being kept quiet to himself, and to his own thoughts, awaiting the noise that would signal the creatures presence. The tracks continued, and Noth found himself easily locating each new set of prints with minimal effort involved. At one point, the tracks curved all the way around a tree before continuing in their original direction, but the pesky animal's trickery was lost upon the cleverness of it's predator, and the ruse was quickly dispelled.

Bushes and plants seemed to shift ever so slightly in their appearance, but the subtle change was lost to the pursuing Noth as he focused upon the hunt. If he had paid attention, he would note that the sounds of the forest seemed to flicker in an abnormal manner some ways away to his immediate right, but it was distorted, and perhaps that was the reason that it escaped his senses. His hands grasped against the loose leaves of a nearby shrub, and yanked them asunder from their rooting place. This harsh action revealed a large, and brutish man who immediately spun upon his heel at the noise of the aggravated foliage. His mannerisms seemed to shout warnings to Noth, and he felt himself withdrawing an arrow from it's holding place. Twitching fingers danced frightfully across the tense string as they seeked out a place from which to properly notch the projectile. The nervousness flooding through his system combined with a fearful anxiety, and delayed his action by several moments until finally the missile was attached to it's string.

At this point, the brutish man had fully recognized what was happening, and had drawn a large rusted knife from his side. It seemed to glisten even in the spotty coverage of the forest, and if he weren't panicking, Noth might have questioned how a rusted blade could reflect as much light as his had. The brute opened his mouth, and twisted it into a gnarled grin which revealed his complete absence of teeth. A heavy handed blow whizzed through the air, and caught the hybrid in the nose, sending him crashing backwards to the ground in a heap of pain. It pulsed throughout his skull, and he felt positive that the man's hands were hammers, and that they had just forced themselves down upon him with the equivalent force.

He spoke,
"Looks like we got ourselves a crippled bird, lads." The large man's words were in obvious reference to Noth's absence of a wing, and he took note of the mention of others nearby. It seemed that he had been doomed from the start to be captured, and he scrunched into a ball to lessen any further assaults. One did come in the form of a pointed boot jamming into his rib, and knocking the air from his lungs in a awful puff. "What's wrong birdie. Can't fly 'ome?" They taunted, and jeered as the remainder of the banditry gathered together and surrounded their recently downed prey. His anger blazed within his chest, but he had no way to lash it out upon them, and he felt a creeping despair flood into his heart. One of the younger bandits scooped upon his longbow, testing the string himself before taking it with him along with the remaining arrows.

Noth felt himself being dragged along by his arms; the movement straining his muscles, and making them feel as though they might tear loose from his sockets at any significant bump or yank. His back ran along the forest floor, collecting dirt, and seedlings as he was forcibly removed from the area. Everything still felt vaguely hazy from the blow he had taken onto the nose, and there were several times when he blinked and found himself staring upwards at a different sky than he had previously gazed upon.

There was a brief moment of weightlessness as though he were falling; or flying, but that quickly came to an abrupt end when he hit the bottom of the mobile cage. It seemed to have been situated atop of a wagon, or pulling cart of some manner. That was probably to assist in dragging prisoners long distances without having to monitor their every movement, or waste an exceptional amount of people constantly lifting a regular cage. Sleep pervaded his thoughts, and he delved into it's comfort for what felt like many breaks. He awoke to find that the sky had again changed from it's usual pallor, and there was a strange certainty in his stomach that seemed to hint at the gang being slavers, and the promise of death whenever they inevitably reached somewhere like Athart. Fate had always been cruel to him, but this time it had decided to up the ante.

There was a gentle creaking as the cage door was swung open, and he cast his gaze downwards towards his feet, and the opening. An obscure looking shape was tossed into the containment, and landed roughly along his right side, covering it nearly completely with it's mass. As soon as he made contact with it's skin, he identified it as a human female. He felt angry at having a person thrown upon him, and he felt his right hand clench around her own right arm and dig his fingers into the visible flesh. After only a moment of this, he stopped the minor assault upon her, and took heed of the bounds that covered her arms, and legs. There appeared to be a bag of some sort draped across her head, and he could only wonder at the bewilderment that must certainly be crossing her mind at finding herself in this predicament.

A feathered hand reached down slowly, hooking itself around the bag, and gently removing it from her head. Crimson eyes, and twilight feathers would hover over her, examining her for signs of any immediate wounds, and wondering at who she might be, and what assistance she could possibly over to their problem. He felt himself begin to articulate words for the first time in what felt like an Arc, and immediately corrected himself when only a faint grunt came out.
"Who are you?"
word count: 1380
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As a note: Noth is a Grandmaster in Intimidation. That means that he's at least as scary as the Count from Sesame Street. Beware.

"The tyrant confuses those he can't convince, corrupts those he can't confuse, and crushes those he can't corrupt." - Anonymous
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When Two Dreams Collide

She had a moment where she considered that flying would be a wonderful thing to do. There was a real sense of freedom in that moment of flight, a real liberation and the thought that one could take off and soar, go anywhere one wanted. Which was, of course, an absolute falsehood as the reality was that Faith was not flying. She was not even falling with style. The brief and exquisite moment of elation was shortlived as she impacted, her small and rather waif-like form impacting and her voice letting out a cry of pain. She had not even heard the creaking of a door and she had no idea of what or where she was.

Faith was confused and disorientated and, as she felt herself land against the ... ... well, as she felt herself land she experienced the impact and her brain made what sense of it she could. It was a hard impact, like she was landing against something with lots of elbows, she thought to herself, but really the pain was just too much. It didn't make sense, entirely, but she fell into whatever it was that she fell into and she forgot the smell of the bag on her head, the darkness around her, she just felt the pain which lit following the impact.

But there, as she landed there was a sudden feeling of someone grabbing her arm, and ... digging in hard and cruel. "Ow!! Ow! That hurts!" she cried out and yet the grip on her arm did not stop just then. Fingers dug into her flesh, hurting her and she felt, once again, the pain of the brand on her arm. It was fresh, that one, and she had to be careful with it. But that was on her left arm, and these vice-like fingers were cutting the blood off in her right. As that realisation hit, she felt the grip lessen and then there was an almost-gentle removal of the bag over her head.

Her eyes blinked, adjusting to the light. They were silver-grey those eyes, such a pale blue that they were almost the colour of moons light. But they showed only confusion and uncertainty. And then she looked at him... it? And her silver eyes widened in fear and recognition. He was Avriel? Or... not quite, not exactly. It was like the person who had pulled the bag from her was both Avriel and.. human? Maybe. Maybe Biqaj, she wasn't sure. But Faith had been born and raised in Athart and she had learnt the Avriel language from one of her owners, however, in this place? In this place she took in his appearance and then she looked around wildly. Was this Athart? Was he one of them? Confused, uncertain, she held out her hands, bound together at the wrist as they were and she answered the only acceptable answer to The Question.

"This slave is no one, Master" she replied to The Question "This slave is wothless without your direction, yours, completely, to do with as you will. How may this slave please you, Master?" she asked. In the training room in Athart, that question had been asked each trial and that had always been the answer. For seventeen arcs she had referred to herself only as 'this slave', answered The Question each trial and she knew this was what she had to say here. Because he was Avriel, and she was bound and maybe the whole thing where she had been bought by a kind master, maybe that had been a dream and she was waking up? So she held her hands out, pre-bound this time (although they were traditionally held out to be bound), she lowered her eyes to the ground and she answered The Question. Because that was what she had been trained to do since birth and what she was.

This slave was no one.
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Crimson eyes glared down at her silver-grey ones with mild curiosity flickering across them. His question had been a simple enough one, but the woman had responded far more differently than he had expected. It seemed that she had once been a slave of some manner, and thus was used to responding in a manner befitting her position. There was a strange pleasure that washed over his body at the idea of completely dominating another being into submission, of becoming their master. Were they in any other scenario, he might have kept up the facade for the sake of further exploring the subtleties of the subject. Despite that, he was not interested in enslaving anyone, and he could well understand the burden that being completely restricted had upon one's physical, and mental state.

His hand outstretched in a slow, eerie manner until it had finally made contact with the cloth binding her hands together. The twilight hybrid gripped the cloth, running his fingers along it ever so slowly until he found where it connected, and began to unravel it with calm precision. Once the hands binding had been removed, he would lay the cloth upon the ground, and work to untie her feet with the same forced gentleness. His mind had already begun to work through potential plans of escape, and most of them relied on the pitiful girl working with him on her own accord. He might have been able to impress her into his service by domineering over her in the way of a slave master, but that disguise would be shattered the moment that she saw that he too was imprisoned in the cage. It appeared that she had been dressed in a fairly decent manner, and he wondered why she had chosen such clothes to gallivant within the forests. Perhaps she had been running an errand of some manner, or perhaps she was a talented herbalist seeking the ingredients to a special chemical concoction.

Noth gazed outside of the primarily wooden cage for a brief interlude, attempting to locate the position of the bandits, but finding that all but one had scattered back into the forest in search of further slaves. The idea of traveling back to somewhere such as Athart was especially worrying for the hybrid. He was a mixture of human, and Avriel, and such abominations were treated with especial cruelty by the Avriel purebloods. They would no doubt see immediately through any attempts at reconciliation, and attempt to murder him upon discovering his genealogy. In that regard, the petty slave nearby him stood a far better chance at survival should they reach their destination than he had, and that was why he struggled so thoroughly to escape.

"I was unaware that I asked such a difficult question."He taunted quietly, attempting to seep in some manner of playfulness into his voice, but failing miserably at not making it sound rude at the least. "What is your name? Where are you from?" The questions were intentionally personal; he needed to determine what her abilities and talents were as quickly as possible to determine whether she would be useful in escaping from their prison. He moved towards the edge of the bars, attempting to perceive the location of the bandits that had captured the pair, but finding only a single bandit sitting nearby, and acting as a guard for the transport. It seemed likely that the others had scattered once more into the woods to locate further slaves.

A notice was made as he neared the bars that the heat had grown to a nearly unbearable level, and he felt it cling and grasp to any surface that the light was capable of touching. It had not grown especially late into the day, but Noth felt himself retreat from the edge of the cage for fear of breaking into a sweat, and further dirtying his feathery coat. Saun had always been the hottest time of the Arc, but usually he was kept at a fairly cool temperature by his cave residence. Thankfully, the cage had been outfitted with a roof formed of the same wooden material as the remainder, and it provided some level of protection from the sweltering heat.

Noth stepped carefully towards the door where both he, and the slave girl had been thrown into their prison. It appeared to be somewhat sturdy, but the creaking noise from earlier also indicated that it had been in action for several Arcs. He located a locking mechanism, and determined rather disappointingly that they would need either a key, or some manner of lockpicking talent to force open the door to their escape. There was always a faint chance that the girl would be able to provide that skill, but even if she had an intimate knowledge of the ability, it would be difficult to pick the lock with the guard nearby, and without an adequate tool for the job.

He felt anger flow through his soul once more, but he restrained himself from futilely smashing against the cage in an attempt at busting through the beams, and from harming the slave girl as he had done previously. He glared daggers into the back of the lone guard, and he felt confident in his ability to strangle the man to death should they be able to escape, and he knew that he had the savagery within himself to fully commit to the act. Of course, if they were able to get away, he would need to rethink his 'kindness' towards the woman. He didn't possess an adequate supply of resources to facilitate her presence with him, and thus could not even attempt to force her into his service. Barring that choice, it wouldn't be wise to allow her to tell the story to others.

When last he had left his home during the dawn of the trial, he had been somewhat close to Etzos, but now he found himself watching foreign trees, and listening to the songs of birds that he had not heard. There was a brief question as to where he had actually been taken, but ultimately it didn't matter. He would return to his cavernous home near Etzos, and he wasn't entirely certain whether the people there would tolerate his presence if they were aware of it. If they knew that the twilight hybrid lived just outside of their precious city, would they come for him, and attempt to kill him for his past actions?

That thought was somewhat foolish, but a mixture of fear, and harsh exhaustion plagued his mind with intermittent ideas that were unrealistic, and they spoiled the rational thoughts that he still conjured. The creature shook his head for a moment, attempting to clear away some of the more ridiculous ideas, but still settling upon the concept of eliminating the woman after they had made their escape. He couldn't really put a finger on why it was the best choice, but it just seemed so terribly reasonable that he was forced to comply with the idea. The shadowy being cast his crimson glower back upon the woman, and a knowing twitch flickered into his eye for the briefest interval; A physical betrayal to match his own.


word count: 1214
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As a note: Noth is a Grandmaster in Intimidation. That means that he's at least as scary as the Count from Sesame Street. Beware.

"The tyrant confuses those he can't convince, corrupts those he can't confuse, and crushes those he can't corrupt." - Anonymous
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When Two Dreams Collide

She kept her silver grey eyes focused on the ground in front of her. He had asked The Question, why was it that this was happening here? He must be an Owner, she knew that must be the case because of his Questioning, and yet the Avriel did not tend to get involved with the Owners, as far as she knew. But her place was not to question, not to consider and not to ask, it was to answer, to do and to obey. Always, to obey. Anything less was unacceptable and she was chattel
But Master told her no
He told her she was a person
A person who was a slave, but a person
A piece of furniture, an object. Nothing more and so she must always remember. She would remember, she would always remember, she was quite sure because she knew that she had to remember. The Owner reached out his hand and started to move towards her. Faith was afraid, but she should not be so, because she was not a person. And as he took her hands, she looked down at them and they were trembling
They had trembled like that before the brands.
Three that she remembered.
Always, she'd trembled.
She trembled whenever she felt extreme emotion...
...
"Thank you, Master" she whispered, meekly, keeping her eyes down. "Master is most kind to this slave" what was her name today, she wondered? No, she couldn't remember. It was something, though and she had been thinking of it when she had seen a rabbit
There was a bunny.
Chalk.
Malcolm. Oh.
She and the owner were both in the cage together, which was strange, she considered, but she did not question. She must not question. There was only one of her captors left and she looked at the man, just out from underneath her lashes. It was a face she recognised if she could but..
Malcolm.
It was Malcolm.
Why?
Why did he hurt her?
... recognise it. But no, it did not come to her mind. But then the Owner spoke again, asked more questions and Faith quickly resumed the position of kneeling, hands held out before her "This slave has no name, Master. This slave has only what you give, including names. This slave is from darkness and death and owes each breath to the generosity of the Owners, Master" she remained kneeling as he stood and he started to explore where they were. She kept her head down, wary of this being a trap or trick of some kind, but she continued to explore from beneath her lashes, watching him. His feathers shone in the Saun heat, the suns beating down mercilessly.

"Do you wish to leave, Master?" she asked and she stood, fluidly and walked forward. She opened the door, which simply clicked open because her dreaming mind expected it to, and she held it open for him, lowering her head so that he might go through first. She hoped that this was what the Owner wanted and so she waited to see what it was the Owner wished to do now. The bandit, the one remaining one (who now looked like Malcolm) stood and watched, aghast, as the door to the cage opened. He reached for his crossbow and took aim at the pair of them, uttering a curse and scrambling in his surprise.

Faith, head bowed and holding the door (which of course really shouldn't open inwards) didn't notice so it seemed that Noth might well need to deal with that one, without the help of the scrawny slave girl
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The woman seemed completely intent on staring into the ground with enough intensity that Noth half expected it to shatter open and reveal some sort of mysterious entity at any moment. He had decided against falsifying his identity as a master since it had seemed incredibly foolish at the time, but it seemed that the girl's entire purpose revolved around satisfying the desires and needs of others. The twilight hybrid didn't fool himself into thinking that it had anything to do with his personality, and instead recognized that it had everything to do with the single black wing stretching out from his back. His heritage was that of a slaver, and his people were renowned for their indoctrination of what they perceived to be property. Most other races had determined that the activity was despicable, and completely amoral, and yet Noth knew for certain that they continued to sell their fellows into shackles and fetters.

The nameless item ahead of him had chosen her position, and had thus determined his own. A slave was not a slave without a master to guide them. It was a strange power dynamic to be involved in, and he had to admit that he had no prior experience with anything like it. The closest relationship that came to mind was the one he shared with Vern, and she was a goose. As he moved to unbind the woman, he noticed the slight shivering sensation that trembled throughout her fingers, and rattled his own flesh with it's intensity. Was it fear? Was she afraid of submitting to someone once more? No, he determined that it could not be fear of submission, because she was so very talented at giving up without ever asking a question. It occurred to him that she might have been born a slave, and that she was lost without the constant steadying hand of a superior being, and thus she chose to believe that the nearest living person that could possibly be a master must certainly be one. It was a pitiful state of affairs, but he would not deny her wishes.

His request for her identity was once more denied, and he simply determined not to ask anymore. If she didn't want an identity, then he did not require one for her. She spoke of being from 'darkness and death', and the hybrid couldn't help but consider the words as they struggled into his consciousness. He was also a being from darkness and death. His feathers provided the literal interpretation of darkness with their twilight gloom, and his past actions provided the death that had set him upon his path. If he closed his eyes for long enough, he could imagine the still face of the man he had known as father. He could examine every detail on that old time-marred face, and felt as though he could still reach out, and feel the creases where age had scraped wrinkles into his flesh.

Conscious thought snapped back into focus as Noth heard the gentle creaking of the door. He hadn't seen the slave girl perform any sort of activity, and his back had only been turned for a few moments, but already the main obstacle to their escape had been overcome. It had been a good choice to allow the woman to live. Already, the lone guardsman had twirled upon his heel with a face filled with shock. It was inconceivable to the poor fellow on their method of escape, and frankly Noth felt the same. Immediately, the hybrid began to focus on the upcoming fight, growling and shaking with anger in an attempt to work himself up to it, and demotivate his opponent at the same time.

The foe had a crossbow, and already he had lifted it up to eye level towards the escapees. There was only a moment to act, and the Avriel had only one action. His hand reached around, grasping at the slave girl who had allowed him to escape, and exerted a pull upon her figure. She was yanked in front of the hybrid, and the instant it was finished, a loud thud sounded. The bolt whirled through the air with a deathly whistle, and sounded a meaty thud nearby his ear. The jolt of force pulsed through him as the metallic missile reached it's target, and for a flickering instance he believed that he had been struck, and that the pain had simply not set in.

Adrenaline pulsed through his body with every beat of his exhilarated heart. Terror was not easy to deny, but it faded as his eyes came into focus upon the fletching of the projectile. It had not pierced his flesh, but it stuck out obtrusively from the left shoulder of the slave. The mere sight of the wound made him flinch, but he watched as his own feathered black hand reached for the bolt. With a valiant effort, he tugged on the thing until it tore free from flesh, covered in blood that leaked lazily down it's shaft. If he had any medical knowledge whatsoever, he would have recognized that removing the offending object would intensify the bleeding of the wound, but he was neither a healer, nor was he trained in their arts.

He clenched his hand tightly around the bolt, removing himself from the presence of the slave, and presenting himself as a target towards the crossbowman. The poor fellow had missed his original target, and had stricken the captive of his least likely to murder him, and for that mistake he would pay dearly. Noth sprinted across the field, his wing opening up behind him and providing a backdrop for his charge. As he neared, the crossbowman drew back his weapon, and aimed to strike it against the oncoming charge as though it were a hammer. They made contact, and the man was hurled off of his feet with the tackle, the hybrid lain atop him. The oaken launcher lay nearby, but it was too heavy for the fellow to wield one handed, and whilst upon the ground, and he quickly abandoned it.

A blow struck him in the ribs, and Noth released a burst of air as he attempted to retain his position. He responded in kind with a knee to the fellows' abdomen. The strike emanated with another dull thud, and the movement was repeated with more force until it generated a louder crackling snap. The fight was ferocious, and both combatants struck out at each other with all of their might and savagery. They were two dogs entrapped in an area, and they knew that only one would leave the combat alive. The crossbowman's hand shot forward to deliver another blow, and it was promptly intercepted with the sharpened metal head of the bolt. The head pierced through his head, tearing through sinew, and muscle, and interlocking between a pair of bones between escaping through the back of his hand, and pinning the damaged appendage to the dirt.

A scream of agonizing pain overshadowed the birdsong that had once whistled gently through the trees. Noth grasped at the man's neck, squeezing down with force as the wounded young man attempted to scratch at his eyes and sensitive pieces of his face.
"What's the matter? Can't get away? What's wrong birdie? Can't fly home?" He taunted through clenched teeth as he strangled the life out of his opponent. Frantic nails lashed against his face, and yanked out clusters of feathers from his body as the life was slowly drained from his form. Finally, after nearly a bit of struggling, the fellow went limp, and the hybrid continued his squeeze for only a short while afterwards to verify that he had expired.

All the while, he did not think a single thought about the welfare of the slave. After all, she was a tool, and tools sometimes broke.

word count: 1329
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Credit to Pegasus


As a note: Noth is a Grandmaster in Intimidation. That means that he's at least as scary as the Count from Sesame Street. Beware.

"The tyrant confuses those he can't convince, corrupts those he can't confuse, and crushes those he can't corrupt." - Anonymous
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When Two Dreams Collide

Faith remained stoic in terms of her stance, both physically in terms of how she stood and held herself, and in terms of how she would maintain her behaviour. It was indoctrinated into her from birth and, of course, Faith knew no different. But more than that, she believed that she made choices. So complete was her indoctrination that she envisioned herself as having more choices than she did, completely and utterly wrapped in the lies that she had swallowed. His consideration of her mind was pretty much spot on, in terms of having been born a slave - she could not conceive of a time or a way of being which was where she was free. Was that her wish? No. But it was all she knew, all she understood. All she was.

If he had but known, she had no name. None except the name given to her by Master, so she could not give him what was his to give her. Darkness and death were what had spawned her, and they were what she would return to. She was not a person, she knew that and the Owners had told her so. Many times. More than many. She knew no such certainty of parents, she was a being with no past and a future determined by those who owned her.

She opened the door, then she stepped away and let him through. He did just that but then, suddenly, he pulled on her, wrapping his arm in front of her, pulling her in front of him and ensuring that she was a shield to him. "Oh!! Oh!!" she cried but he was strong, stronger than her and she was yanked in front of him. Then, there was the sudden pain in her shoulder as a crossbow bolt thudded in to her. "Aeeeeiiiiieee!! Owwwww!" she squealed and she did her best to get out of the grip of the being holding her. But he was stronger than her, he held on to her and the crossbow bolt stuck in her and then, as he lifted his hand and pulled the bolt from her shoulder she screamed. Loudly.
She had screamed then.
As the brand burned her.
He had told her she would
And she did

As the bolt pulled from her shoulder, she fell to the floor and took great gulping sobs. She missed the fight between the creature and the crossbow man. It was all too exquisite, all too painful for her to see it any other way than that. She was aware of the shouting, grunting and flying around. She didn't know what was happening, but she was too busy feeling the pain and crying, sobbing as the blood poured from her. But there she knelt, her blood pouring into the ground. She lifted her right hand, trying to staunch the bleeding and as he finally killed the crossbow weilder.

"It hurts" she said, quietly. "Please.... she whispered, and then she stood, blood (apparently far more than should have been possible) pouring from her.
word count: 508
Life, Death and the In-Between .
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Noth
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When Two Dreams Collide

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The act of strangling the life from another person felt strange. Noth didn't quite feel as though he should be feeling the way he had; after all, he had killed before, but he found himself wracked with a certain guilt that made him glare at the corpse before him, and then at his offending hands. Feathers littered the ground in a seemingly ritualistic manner around the gruesomely executed adversary, and there were splotches of visible skin marring his usual features. The man had put up quite a fight, and had managed to land enough blows that the hybrid would be bruised, and battered for several trials to come, but he had ultimately lost the fight. His eyes met those of his opponent's; a gentle green, and he glared into them, wondering at what his final thoughts might have been before he expired. He seemed to be almost sleeping by his tranquility, and his arms splayed at his sides helped to amplify that mental image, but the rough bruises running a ring around his throat, and neck spoke to another fate.

Noth had never purposefully killed another person, and it left him feeling a plethora of emotions that he simply couldn't piece together. He felt pride at his own combative abilities, and that he had managed to hold his own against an enemy armed with a superior weapon, but at the same time he felt a mild guilt for having ended his life so soon. He attempted to consciously remove his emotions from his mind until a further date, but that proved as unsuccessful as one might have expected. He simply turned his back on the corpse, still reflecting on the previous few bits. His gaze fell momentarily upon the wounded figure of the slave, and he watched as crimson blood leaked like a waterfall from her shoulder. Noth wasn't a doctor of any kind, but he had seen deer twice the size as the girl bleed less than the wound that now watered the ground. There was something unnatural about it, and he briefly considered that she might have been some manner of Immortal. It would at the very least explain her ability to open doors with seemingly no effort whatsoever, and it would explain her odd physiology.

If she was an Immortal, then he was disappointed. He had always expected the god-like beings to be filled with a glowing righteous energy that would constantly wrap around, and dissipate near them. He had expected extraordinary acts far beyond the simple opening of a locked door; a petty thief could accomplish greater. The more he considered the workings of the Immortals, the angrier he found himself becoming, and his hands twitched with the emotion as all others were wiped clear of his thoughts. They were the ones to blame for his disability, and for his inability to restrain himself when the time had come to be released in the presence of his father, and they were the ones who had allowed him only moments ago to strangle to death another person without a second thought in the world. His hands opened and closed ahead of him, and he came to the realization that if he was a monster, then the gods kept him on a leash, and allowed him to commit the things that he had. They had abused him, and thus he had grown abusive, and who could blame a dog for delivering cruelty, when all it had known as cruelty.

There was a quiet, and somber sounding whisper that seemed to carry upon the wind, and he acknowledged that it came from the slave. The amount of blood that she had lost was at a ridiculous level, and yet she did not seem to be of divine origin, and so he came to the pragmatic conclusion that she would shortly die, and that there was little that he could do to help her resist the grasp of death. In a way, he had killed her as well, but she was barely a human being, and so he cared far less about her well-being. She was a tool, and tools were broken in the service of their masters. That thought reiterated itself as though it were a mantra meant to convince himself of his actions. He spoke no words to the girl, but instead returned to the corpse, and plundered it of a blade, the crossbow, and several remaining bolts stored in a quiver. His hand hovered for a brief moment around the man's eyes, but indecision gripped him as to whether he ought to close them, and ultimately he left them open. The hybrid began to make his way into the woods, aiming to head in the general direction which he believed would lead to his home. In time, the corpse would be consumed by flies, and maggots, and his eyes plucked away by ravens, but at the very least, his struggle had ended.

Noth's had only begun.

word count: 837
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Credit to Pegasus


As a note: Noth is a Grandmaster in Intimidation. That means that he's at least as scary as the Count from Sesame Street. Beware.

"The tyrant confuses those he can't convince, corrupts those he can't confuse, and crushes those he can't corrupt." - Anonymous
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Faith Augustin Champion
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When Two Dreams Collide

The Avriel creature with her did not care about the plight that he had left her in and Faith did her best to try and call to him, but he ignored her. As she engaged in a futile attempt to staunch the bleeding, she watched him and he looted the corpse of the bandit. Then, he turned and looked at her. Surely, she thought, now, he would do something. After all she had helped him, even before he had grabbed her and hurt her. He was one of the Owners, she was sure, and she was...

..she was of no use to him because of the blood that poured from her shoulder

And so, Faith knelt on the floor and she lowered her head. "Famula is before more today. Like the recovery of a sick man. Like going forth into a garden after sickness." and in the first verse of the death song to Famula, she felt calmness washing over her. As she accepted that this was the moment where she died, Faith knelt and she knew that she had lived her life in service.

"Famula is before me today. Like the odor of myrrh. Like sitting under a sail in a good wind."' she whispered. Feeling the breeze on her face, she breathed in and the odor of myrrh was in her nostrils. She felt herself start to lose consciousness in the dream but she forced herself to continue, her voice slurring as she did "Famula is before me today. Like the course of a stream. Like the return of a man from the war-galley to his house." It was going home, she knew that. And in that moment, praying her prayers to her beloved Immortal, Faith believed that when Famula came and took her into the lantern wherein all souls were, Famula would know that her servant had served with everything she had, with every moment.

She had failed sometimes, she knew. Sometimes she had wanted things that she should not, had notions that she had no right to have, but still, in the main and for most of her breaks and trials, Faith had served without thought or question. She knew her place and she lived it. She was slave, she was captive. And so, as she felt life drain from her as the blood pooled and she fell forward, no longer able to maintain the kneeling position of prayer, she whispered the last verse of the Poem of Death.

"Famula is before me today. Like the home that a slave longs to see after years spent as a captive.” she whispered and as, in her dream, Faith felt death wrap around her, in her sleep she smiled and turned over. No longer on her branded shoulder, that movement caused her to wake and, in the waking world Faith remembered a dream of Famula and she woke with a wince at the pain in her shoulder but also a feeling of contentment. Trying to grab hold of the dream and remember it, she realised that she could not really recall it, except for a vague feeling of being cared for and held in gently loving arms. How strange, she considered and nestled back down to sleep.
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Life, Death and the In-Between .
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Anomaly
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When Two Dreams Collide

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Review: Completed!
I'm Anomaly, and I come bearing gifts in the form of a thread review. The thread has been thoroughly combed and all participants have been alloted their rewards, listed below. If you can't find your name, please see the closing comments at the end of the post. Thank you!

Faith

Skills

Story: 5/5
Collaboration: 5/5
Structure: 5/5

Knowledge

Slavery: The Question
Slavery: Being Used as a Meat-Shield
Famula: The Poem of Death

Other

N/A

Notes

Full marks! No outstanding errors that would cause me to deduct points.
Noth

Skills

Story: 5/5
Collaboration: 5/5
Structure: 5/5

Knowledge

Tactics: Human Meat-Shield
Slavery: Slaves are Tools to be Used

Other

N/A

Notes

Full marks! No outstanding errors that would cause me to deduct points. However! Please, I beg you, make your text colour just a smidge brighter. It hurt my eyes a bit to read this after a while, because of the colours. Had to squint. But that's my one point of critique. :)

Closing comments: This was a very reality-rooted dream. A rarity, but still interesting. It's very interesting to get to delve more into Faith's mindset after reading quite a few of her threads in Emea already, and Noth is... certainly an interesting creature. He has a very unique mindset, and I appreciate that. Good job, you two. :)

Lastly, if there are any questions or concerns about your review, send me a message as soon as you're able so we can sort it out if need be.

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word count: 256
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