[html] Set a day or so after this thread.
Kargek's head lolled as he sat propped against the back wall of the cool basement in Borgata Coatl's storage building, the man trying to fight for consciousness as chains weighed heavily upon his ankles and left wrist. He had spent hours trying to work at them, aiming to slip his constrained wrist free so he could perhaps reach just a little further to the shelves that were lining the other walls. He had grown tired though--it had been perhaps a day or more since he had been captured and time slipped past differently when there was no sun or moon, just darkness.
It was probably a good thing the man fought to stay awake, combating his concussion, though he was perhaps in the clear by now. Closing his brown and hazel eyes for just a moment he drifted for what felt like hours though only minutes had passed before he jerked himself awake again. When would they be back for him? Would they not want to speak, to bring him medicine? The Redblade bared his teeth in annoyance but felt too weak to continue the angry facade and instead rested his head back against the wall again. “Water,” he demanded gruffly in a raspy voice, clearing his throat to try again. “Water!” Came the stronger command that echoed off of the walls. Hopefully they would come to these calls.
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Location: Borgata Coatl, SL
Date: ~28/29 June* (Backdated)
Weather: Warm, clear
Time: Afternoon?
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Draugr is by Alaine!
Draugr was brushing Dyrne when Gjalda had come up to her, panting with the exertion of running all the way from the slave quarters to her home. Why he'd chosen Draugr, of all creatures, was beyond her, but she'd followed anyway. Dra clutched a dead rabbit in one hand and a half-empty waterskin was tucked beneath her arm. It was a sturdy thing, and one of a few in her possession, but Dra loathed to give it up. Their new acquisition might destroy it, and then she'd be out a waterskin.
But the slaves had few possessions, and cups were not amongst them. Dra could not waste time taking a drinking implement from the storage; water was an important thing and if their new charge was yelling for it, he might be getting better. So she hurried before Gjalda, inquiring just how noisy the man had been over the previous night and lapsing into silence when there was no more information to be exchanged.
The heavy storm doors were in their place, the rocks and timber debris still covering it. Dra crossed her arms while clutching the skin as Gjalda hurried to move them out of the way. Stop, she commanded, when there was only a timber plank keeping the doors closed. She hunkered down close to the door and rapped on it sharply with her knuckles.
You want water? she called loudly, hoping to hear his voice and gauge his distance from the door. He might have slipped his bonds, and if so, she would not be the one to waltz down into the cellar and let him loose upon the world. It occurred to her that she ought to have brought a weapon, but it was too late, and with her lack of knowledge, whatever weaponry she brought was likely to be more dangerous than it was useful.
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The Redblade had begun to doze again when a muffled call could be heard from across the room on the other side of the heavy doors. "Yes," came his croaked reply, voice deep and reverberating but not far reaching in his current state. He wondered who it might be; one of the young women from before? Why had someone of import not been sent to see him yet or tend to his aches? Just women, only women and that silent, weak man. It unnerved the burly blacksmith and he shifted from a seated position into a crouch, back supported by the cellars far wall for he still could not balance properly on his own, brown and hazel eyes bloodshot from lack of rest and accustomed to their dark surroundings.
"I do not wish to harm anyone, I just need water and an explanation." He continued diplomatically, swallowing to regain the moisture he had lost while speaking. Kargek normally would not have spoken so much, would not have cared too at least, but under the circumstances the man was gaining quite a talkative reputation. Answers were all he sought.
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Draugr is by Wander!
Though the silver-tinged wolfdog had thought this a very bad idea, she could not deny the usefulness of such a slave. His size meant power, if they could tame him. The wolfdog did not know if it was possible to tame such a canine. If it was within the realm of possibility, Dra certainly wasn't amongst those capable of such a task. Her mother was a better possibility, but Dra had left the political workings of this prisoner to Ataxia's judgment. Her silvery friend was still of higher rank, and it was to this the drab-hued hybrid bowed.
The voice which rose from within the cellar was little more than a muffled murmur, though the single word was easy enough for Dra to understand. There was the faint noise of movement from within -- slight movement, restricted -- and the man again spoke. Dra cocked her head and glanced toward Gjalda, who twitched his shoulders in a shrug after he realized she wanted a response. I think he is still chained. The Associate nodded her agreement and stepped back, indicating the remainder of the debris with a wave of her hand.
When the doorway was cleared, Dra stepped back, as if she expected the man to explode out of the cellar. He just might, too, she thought morosely. If that was the case, she wanted a head start on running away. If he was in better shape than the other day -- however unlikely that was -- she was not match for him. The slave propped open one door and opened the other.
You first, she said, nudging Gjalda forward with a hand. The wolfdog realized what she'd done only after the slave looked at her in astonishment, entirely unused to the touch of his masters -- gentle touch, anyway. She scowled and waved her hand. Go, she said, and the slave stepped forward into the dim basement. Dra allowed her pale eyes to adjust in the doorway before she stepped forward gingerly.
Water, I will give you. Explanation -- I don't think that is my place, she said, rolling her shoulders upward in a shrug and shuffling forward with the waterskin. She took a few steps and hesitated a moment, lingering well out of his reach. You won't hurt me? My ribs are very bruised, the hybrid admitted, though there was no accusation in her tone. She would have fought, too.
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As the doors were pried open a beam of light slowly spread across the floor, just out of reach of the Redblade, whom squinted into the light as two dark figures descended into his prison. The first was the meek man, a beige and black wolf whom had stood to the side the day before. Behind him emerged the lady he had thrown across the storage room when he was being chained, a petite rag-doll garbed in woody brown and black with touches of grey. He felt shame as from before wash over him, a protective twinge eliciting along his spine for her as she shuffled forward, hesitant.
“I will not,” he assured, reaching out a large black hand for her to place the waterskin. “I was disoriented--and you were chaining me--it was reflex and nothing more m'lady.” Kargek would never go out of his way to hurt a woman and the fact he had bruised this petite angel resonated within him as a horrible crime.
Glancing over suspiciously toward the other male he accepted the water skin in his hand gently when it was finally offered to him, then with a great tilt of his head guzzled greedily at the soothing liquid. He did not pause for some time, only stopping with a great breath when the skin was left a quarter full. “Thank-you,” he said to the girl with a slight nod of his head, voice breathy but returning quickly to its normal deep rumble, just then noticing the rabbit tucked beneath her arm though he made no move to make mention of it. “It would be nice to know where I am and why I was chained,” he suggested casually, trying to get answers out of the girl, brown and hazel gaze shifting to the man as well to see if he might finally speak up.
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