In the Palace... 07.23.311Behind her veil, the Donia smiled amusedly at the antics of the men sprawled at her feet. She reveled in their fear of her. Soaking in the mélange of terror, curiosity, and dread, that permeated the air in the Great Hall.
Because contrary to popular opinion; the Donia did not laze about on a golden throne, haughtily deciding the fate of others. She looked and was in fact, every inch a warrior.
The moment she had entered the room in her full battle regalia, the three men shackled to the floor by their wrists, had paled and began struggling in earnest. This was no simpering, vain, and weak-willed woman, and the fear for their lives had mounted considerably.
They had thought themselves lucky, when the Searchers hadn’t practiced instant judgment on them, when they had been caught sneaking about the palace. Sure, there was no intent of sabotage or assassination, they were merely there on a thieving mission, but being caught in the Donia’s palace, uninvited, was tantamount to suicide. All three men knew this, and yet they had tried, desperation dimming their good sense.
They hadn’t even made it through the vast hanging gardens before they were caught, yet still, all three men expected to die that day.
Naldo, the thief in the middle, and the leader of the thieving trio peeked back up at the Donia, fascination coloring his fear. Although her battle gear was intimidating, it was also very revealing. And Naldo would be the first to admit, that he was a sucker for pretty women. Even as he teetered on the brink of death, he found himself admiring the way her armored bustier cupped her bountiful breasts, the firm muscles of her abdomen, and the long line of the Donia’s strong, well-shaped legs.
Noting this, the Donia snorted in amusement and dropped to his level, squatting unashamedly in front of him. His hot gaze was instantly drawn to the shadowy region at the apex of her thighs. The purple silk undergarment clung to her every curve and crevice, perfectly molding his new object of desire.
He unconsciously licked his lips.
Jarring pain rocked him to his right, crashing him into his cohort. As the smaller man attempted to push him back into position and off of him, he whispered fiercely into Naldo’s ear.
“Are you mad?! Quit eyeing her like she’s one of your sluts. That’s the Donia, man!”
By the time he was back in position, the Donia had laughed and stood back up. She stepped back to lean indolently against the nearest pillar, watching as one of her Searchers, the one who had swatted Naldo with a heavily gauntleted arm, stepped up and leaned down to glare murderously at Naldo.
“Next time, I’ll use my sword, worm.” He growled.
Naldo barely managed to avoid shitting himself.
“Okay, enough of this shit.” Snapped the Donia, her voice husky and seductive to Naldo’s ears, yet, he remembered to keep his eyes down; the throbbing on the side of his head plus the feel of his own blood slowly trickling down the side of his face, helped to keep him focused.
“Let me put this straight.” Began the Donia, standing before them, hands on her hips. “The reason you aren’t dead yet, is because I need some questions answered, and I think you boys can be of help. Give me some good info, and I’ll let you go, alive and free, minus only one hand.”
The three thieves blanched at her words, and the small one on Naldo’s right even began whimpering.
“Oh come on.” Purred the Donia. “What’s one hand compared to… say, losing your head?”
Naldo gulped in renewed fear. He was almost too afraid to hear her questions, afraid he wouldn’t know the answer.
“I’m looking for some good thieves, to act as spies for me. Tell me, who are the best thieves in Anarab, and where I can find them?”
The one on Naldo’s left, hesitantly raised his hand.
“Not any of you fuckwads. We spotted you three the moment you jumped the walls.”
The man put his hand down.
“You’ve got three seconds to start talking.”
The Searcher stepped up again, and this time he had his huge curved sword drawn. Edited by: jasmin73 at: 8/8/07 6:37 am
From the sidelines Sly watched. The thieves were utter idiots, he had spotted them before they had even breathed on the leaves in the gardens. Their lack of stealth was disheartening, Sly was growing bored.
Sly. Today he had decided on an alarmingly slim appearance, His entire body covered in black 'cloth', his eyes consisting of nothing but dark pupils--like two black holes. What a spectacle these fools made, an embarrassment to the business. He laughed lightly, sounding like a barking dog.
Re: In the Palace... 07.23.311"Three." called the Donia playfully, although deep inside she felt nothing.
She heard her Sly's laughter, just like a dog's barking, and it amused her. But not enough to stifle her growing impatience with these useless examples of humanity, that were groveling on their knees before her.
When the three men still hesitated, she threw a look to her Searcher, and without a second's hesitation, he stepped forward with a mighty swing of his large sword, and the thief to Naldo's left went crashing to the floor... minus his head.
The Donia used one foot to stop the rolling head as it came near her, and smiled patronizingly down at the remaining two thieves.
"Two." she said to the green-faced Naldo, singling him out, even as his companion began to sob brokenly.Edited by: jasmin73 at: 8/8/07 6:38 am
Re: In the Palace... 07.23.311
A dark shape came from the shadows watching as the pool of blood started to form at the neck of the dead thief. They did not even deserve to see the Donia.
A large blade flashed as it laid in his hands. He was a Searcher and what he thought a very good one. Though he had not seen many of the others yet it didn't matter. When your reborn into this world you seam to know more, feel more, fight harder and die harder.
He raised his head to the Donia and the two thieves. His devil mask revealing his yellow eyes that glowed in the darkness shrouding him.
The head under the Donia's foot seamed to be looking up at her almost, as the other two seamed to do the same.
As ones attraction kicked into his system finding the Donia "hot" he guessed the word was he seamed to want to cut off each finger one by one and then his tongue then his eyes. Just so he would never see such a gorgeous thing again and never speak of such beauty again. Though that would happen anyway if they didn't talk.
And even if they did and the Donia shared kindness and did let them go, which wasn't likely he would hunt them down and not two feet from the wall they would have their throats slit before they knew blood hit the floor.
A shadow fell on his eyes as the eye holes of his mask turned black. He ran his finger down his sword making a horrible ringing noise. He stood there waiting for orders, he stood there waiting for death.
Nothing compares to the erg to kill, not love, not lust, not money or fame. For the erg to kill would strike every time you saw someone weaker then you, saw something you wanted that someone else had. It gnawed at the heels to make you step closer, it bit at the hands to make you draw that sword.
The Donia knew this feeling all to well. And as she was pure beauty to him, no thought came of the two, he was the servant and she was the master. Love was apparent but only to love that he is loyal to.
Re: In the Palace... 07.23.311Just then, Jolie, the Donia's personal slave, ran into the throne room, and up to the Donia. She whispered into the Donia's ear, and everyone knew it was bad, by the way her eyes narrowed.
She then waved the slave girl away, and turned her attention back to Naldo and his remaining cohort.
Losing her patience, the Donia kicked the severed head to the side and rushed up to the cowering thieves with long, angry strides.
"Do you want to lose another friend?" she hissed at Naldo. "Speak! I know, you know of one."
"They're not my friends! And I can't... I can't tell... he'll kill me!"
"Not if I kill you, first!" she snapped. Snarling in disgust, the Donia whirled around and made to leave the room.
"Guard! Put him in the dungeons until I'm ready for more questioning." she shouted over her shoulder, gesturing towards Naldo. " Hannya... make an example of the last one, take off his left hand then toss him off my property! And somebody clean that bloody mess off my marble floors before it stains!"
In a swirl of rich fabric hangings, the Donia disappeared further into the palace... to where, no one knew at the moment. She didn't bother to stay and make sure her orders were carried out... she didn't have to.Edited by: jasmin73 at: 8/8/07 6:40 am
Re: In the Palace... 07.23.311
The Boss was in a bad mood about something, that was for sure. But Grant had been serving under her since the very beginning of the Collection, and knew better than most that it was a bad idea to ask what was wrong.
So that just left the orders she'd made before leaving, and she expected them done. Stepping out from under the arch and placing the glass he'd been drinking from down, he snapped his fingers at one of the slave-girl's that worked in this area of the Palace and ushered her over.
"Girl, clean that mess up before the Donia has our head, eh?" he told her, smiling slightly beneath the hood and balaclava that hid his entire face. The girl nodded and scuttled off, probabley to fetch a mop or something. The guy Hannya would no doubt have the second thief under control, so that just left the final order: taking the remaining prisoner down to the Dungeon.
Grant nodded to the guards and grabbed Naldo by the back of his neck, dragging the thief from the room and down the stairs. It was a long way down, and Grant was certain the thief would have a bruised back by the end of it...maybe some broken bones, too. Ah well, it got the point across.
The Dungeons were swellteringly hot as always, and screams echoed down the stone halls. Naldo was shivering despite the heat, making Grant laugh.
"Yup, that's were you're headed! Better pray the Donia doesn't come down to carry out the 'questioning' herself, or you'll be leaving with a lot less limbs than you entered with!"
Cackling like a maniac, Grant slid the thief across the stone floor to the Dungeon guards, who promptly grabbed him up and began to march him off to one of the cells. "I don't want him touched until the Donia gives the go-ahead! Make sure you tell Skinner that!"
Skinner. Even the man's name gave him the shivers. Skinner was the Dungeon's torturer, the sort of man who laughed when he ripped out another's eye. He reminded Grant of those crappy horror movies he used to watch in his last life, except Sinner was real, breathing, and actually carrying out stuff creepier than stuff in those films. Stuff that could make grown men spew. Grant had on more than one occasion, much to Skinner's delight.
Still, the torturer did his job well, which was more than could be said for the guards at teh walls. If those men had been assasins, or even Raiders with something to prove, there would have been casualties amongst the Collection. And Grant hated his men dying, having spent so long training many of them. So he was going to have a 'word' with those on duty, and explain just what would happen if they fucked up again...
Re: In the Palace... 07.23.311
Hannya smiled and stepped forward.
"With pleasure my lady." He said in a deep mysterious voice that didn't seam human one bit.
He drew one of his blade looking down at the revolting mess that was the thief, that now could clearly be seen crying. A smile behind his devil mask and his eyes flashed there yellow tint.
The thief shuttered as he stared down at him with no pity and a face masked by one as grueling as his own.
Hannya thrust out his hand grabbing the thief by the neck as he squeezed his larynx. The thief opened his mouth but all that came out was a gasp as he was unable to breath or speak.
He raised him from the ground and pulled at him. Hannya knew well how much force to took to rip off a human arm or leg and for fun he tested himself in it.
Pulled the man up and almost throwing him the shackles tightened and the man was pulled back the the ground. A disturbing crack was heard twice and even a pop as the mans right arm popped out of its socket and the joint in both his legs was severed and pulled.
The man tried to scream in pain but he was still unable to scream or use his voice seeing that Hannya's hand was still wrapped around his neck.
Hannya dropped him as he curled up in pain. Hannya went over pulling the chains that held his right arm. He looked at the metal had cut into his skin on all four of his limbs.
He stabbed the ground with one of his sword which went through of on the chain links stretching out his arm and keeping it in place.
He raised his other sword over his head and then swinging down and using the wait of gravity at his disposal he sliced the hand cleanly off. The chain turned to slack as the mans appendage was set free but short then it was before.
Hannya smiled once more hearing his scream echo in his ear drums. The sound of pain and suffering. The sound that all made sense to him and the feeling that he had done good for the Donia.
Releasing the other three shackles he grabbed him by the hair and started to drag his helpless body through the castle until he reached the gates. Opening the gates he threw him into the streets. Following the body as it slide against hard stone he placed a bag over his head trying it tightly and into a number of knots.
He knew this man would not be able to untie them with only one hand and he as pleased.
Then grabbed a water jug from a near by merchant stand he poured it over the bag. This would give the feeling that he was drowning though he would never drown he would just panic and squirm feeling as though death was right around the corner.
He gave him a number of kicks to the ribs until he felt that the area of his rib cage was now just a soft spot of pain, meaning that he had broken a large number of his ribs.
This man would most likely not live a long life, and if he came but he would find a quicker death to for fill the one he did not receive today.
Returning to the palace and closing the gates he returned to his master, the Donia.
Re: In the Palace... 07.23.311
(Hey it's someone new!)
The last thoughts in his mind were lost in the the haze of his disoriented mind. The only thing that kept popping up within was that he was dead. Dead by another, of the same blood. Then suddenly, the haze gave way to stunning clarity and new sensations filled him. There was the uncanny smell of...flowers. 'How can there be flowers if I am dead?' he thought distantly. Then realized he was breathing and he could feel the rapidly beating heart beneath his ribs. A strong healthy beat, like a drum, pounding against his ribcage. That was odd. Death had no heartbeat. He slowly opened his eyes to daylight, shinely blindingly upon him and all that surrounded. Sitting up, he glanced around quickly and noted he was in some sort of garden, and then he noticed his sword lie next to him, still fresh with his own life's blood. That dreadful memory made him tentively touch his chest where he had been so violently impaled but all he felt was the scar that had almost always been there.
It was then he noticed the wings that had sprouted in the last instant of his life. Flexing them, he could tell they were strong and certainly big enough to lift him into the air in a full flight if he so chose to fly. Somehow the wings weren't very surprising considering his rare race.He stood to full height, and stretched his sore legs and made a small circle to get circulation back. He picked up his runeblade and absently thought he would need to fashion some sort of sheath if he didn't want to carry it around all the time. For the mean time, he need to find out where he was and how it came to be that he wasn't in death's cold embrace.
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