Sparing my neck from their chain

POSTED: Fri Feb 17, 2017 4:33 pm

He was marched along an all-too-familiar trail, the same he’d traveled and fled with Zacchaeus, bound in ropes and escorted by the willowy silver half-breed and the larger agouti wolf. The latter was insurance that he would not escape, while the former—called Crone, some sorceress’ title—occasionally tightened the bonds and played with the loose ends.

At first the coywolf had mocked, and promised cruel things, but Silas’ empty stare silenced him after some time and left only a latent rage that presented itself in sharp steps and tugs of the ropes at his wrists, which were rubbed raw and ached by the time they reached the borders.

Silas memorized every step, carrying himself like the elegant soldier that he was, watched every Luperci they passed and studied every trap and tree. The Crone had quickly noticed this and called for him to be blindfolded. He’d then begun to push Silas into trees, thorns, cold creeks, and despite his resolve the Boreas man was shivering and cut and bruised when they came upon the final destination, a place that smelled of submissive wolves and old wood.

Here the Crone pushed his head against the doorframe, tightening the ropes once more. Blood leaked from his mouth, and he struggled to draw breath as the man dismissed the escort and called out.

“Overseer! I’ve brought something for us.”

POSTED: Mon Feb 20, 2017 9:54 am

OOC - +300 words.

WHERE WORDS FAIL, MUSIC SPEAKS

Of course it was not the best idea, but it was his passion and his desire to put to rest the wary thoughts of all the slaves. He knew they couldn't just not do their work, but if they were a little late, he could easily explain his reasoning for keeping them. The only exception to this was Tarat, as he already lived in the barn, separate from the others. The tune of the lute passed along the area, his voice following along with it. He wasn't sure what those before him thought of his show, but all he could hope for was that it would relax them. Things had to get back to normal somehow. He didn't think there would any threat from inside the kingdom, but he couldn't be too sure without checking himself.

Weaver stopped his music to the sound of someone calling out for him. A smile moved along his face as he turned his head over to see the figure of Loki in the distance. He waved over to the Crone before addressing the slaves before him, "That will be all for now. Get to your usual duties and I'll come check on you later." With that, the communal slaves parted their ways. Now he was free to turn his attention on the one calling out to him.

Green gaze moved to the bound man at his side before offering a bit of a smirk to his friend, "You know Loki, if you damage him any more before he got here there might not have been anything for me to work with." He could at least tell some of the wounds had been caused by the many thistles growing around the kingdom. Besides, these were fresh on someone who had to follow the one leading him. Shifting from his carefree note to something more serious, he began to inspect this new name, "So what's the story with this one? Is he going to give me a lot of trouble?"

Weaver Valentine

POSTED: Thu Mar 30, 2017 3:58 am

00+

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Iron burned his tongue, blood bubbling at the corners of his lips as he fought to breathe, but beyond these sensations and the wear of the wood against his bloodied temple he was aware of something else -- music? His ear twitched in a mane matted and mussed from its normal state, but before he could contemplate the tune it had gone, and footsteps heralded the approach of whom he could only assume was the musician.

Loki pushed Silas harder against the doorframe, casually, at the stranger's remark that the man was damaged. It was such a small act of malice but not one that Silas would push so easily from his mind as sore muscles winced involuntarily. I'm sure you can work with anything, Overseer, purred the Crone in response, but fell silent at the question. Rather than another quip at Silas' expense, the woman-man's answer was flat and direct, spoken in natural tenor tones in lieu of his playful lilt. He killed Artemisia.

The restraint around his muzzle, digging into flesh hard enough almost to cut, and to cause more blood to leak from his punctured tongue, made it oh so hard to breathe. He wobbled slightly, and only then did he feel the rope relax enough for him to draw breath -- and then the blindfold was ripped from his face and he was blinded by light. Squinting, he bared his teeth and glared upward into the face of a pale, green-eyed man whom he didn't recognize.

POSTED: Wed Apr 05, 2017 10:12 pm

OOC - +300 words.

WHERE WORDS FAIL, MUSIC SPEAKS

Weaver could mold anyone he wanted, it was his task after all as the Overseer. He knew the kind of work he would be getting into once the new slaves came in. He had already done this once before when Merlin came around, and he would certainly be able to do it again. A smile curled along his face, though it quickly faded as he learned who this new slave was. Artemisia's murderer. He had heard about the woman's death, even though he had been taking care of other matters that kept him from getting further involved in the conflict. He had been dealing with a death of his own, one of the slaves. This one could not replace the one they had lost, but it would certainly make up for the deed he had done.. maybe.

The tawny man stood patient while he let Loki handle the slave, for now. The blindfold was finally off, but he could see the anger in the dark male's eyes. Not only that, but he could smell the blood running down him. Even if he was a new slave, he would have to have Corrine look at him and make sure that his wounds, no matter how minor, would heal. A weak slave was a useless slave. Even if he had to bound to make him stay still, he would be sure to get this one the treatment he needed.

The Overseer began to pace around the new slave, watching him carefully before stepping to the side of Weaver, one hand reaching for the binding that held him down, "If you have other duties you wish to attend to, I can take it from here." There was work to be done after all. First he needed to see how this male would act in his new environment, making sure that he was aware of his new position and what would be expected of him. Keeping out of striking range for the time being, he addressed the new slave, "This here will be your new home with the other Trells. You'll be expected to complete the tasks that are assigned to you, and I will make sure you don't cause any trouble."

Weaver Valentine

POSTED: Wed Apr 26, 2017 2:45 pm

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It was a tawny, soft-featured man that inspected Silas - and the pacing reminded the soldier of the way they had looked at Scintilla captives about to die. This inspection was far more thoughtful, however - more like the eye one used to look over a new horse. Anger burned in his green gaze, but he kept still, and let his face slacken into expressionlessness as the Salsolans talked about him.

Loki seemed hesitant at the Overseer's encouragement, and he looked like he might protest before folding his ears back and nodding. Be careful with this one, he warned, and stalked away, though not without letting his gaze linger one last time on the dark-cowled soldier.

Then the Overseer addressed Silas, who licked his teeth. You take me as a slave? Are your kind so barbaric that you cannot give an enemy a quick death?

POSTED: Wed May 03, 2017 1:29 pm

OOC - +300 words.

WHERE WORDS FAIL, MUSIC SPEAKS

Weaver could understand Loki's worry about leaving him alone with this slave, but it was his job to make sure that the slaves were not only taken care of, but broken, and that was exactly what he intended to do with this male. Wrapping the binding around one hand to keep the male in place, he watched as the Crone began to leave from their field of view, his eyes barely trailing away from the new slave as he made his exit. Loki had nothing to worry about. If this one dared to strike out, then he would be faced with what the Overseer could truly be like. A shame he wouldn't be able to see it.

Moving his hands carefully behind his back, the tawny man caught Silas' words. His eyes narrowed a bit to the statement as he moved in front of him once again, "Let's start with our first lesson. You will not speak unless first spoke to, or you are given permission to speak freely. If you want to keep your voice I would suggest you learn that rule very quickly." This was the only real warning he would, yet still he continued with an answer for it to test Silas' new lesson, "And you claim us to be barbaric? We are not the ones who invaded two packs putting so many lives at risk. Besides, your group cost us the life of one of our other slaves. You are his replacement."

Weaver remained in front, letting his stature speak for itself. None of the other slaves were here, but it would have been nice if the female one was at least here. Hmm.. perhaps not. If the dark slave was going to be disciplined, then perhaps it would be better to wait until after it was all over. Moving on, he moved one hand up towards his nose, "Once we are done with your training, you'll receive your nose ring and will begin your work. Since you have no personal master, you will do as any other member instructs you. If there is no one that needs assistance, I will find some work for you along with another slave. There will be some down time of course."

Weaver Valentine

POSTED: Sun May 21, 2017 6:20 pm

This is a bad reply but didn't make sense for Silas to talk lolol

The command not to speak unless spoken to was one Silas was familiar with, and a lesson that he had imparted upon his nephew countless times. But the Overseer was not his commanding officer; he was his captor, and there was no respect for him.

The threat spoke for itself, however. Silas had seen men without their tongues in Scintilla, though their dismemberment preceded a quick death. Here, he realized that he would not be so lucky. He said nothing, did not defend his comrades, only stared at the other with quiet disdain and refused now to speak.

His mind raced, wheeled. He had questions but kept his mouth shut.

Blood dribbled from his lips where he'd snapped down on his tongue, and he reached up to rub at his busted face with the back of his wrist, then spat on the ground. Angrily, he wiped his face again.

POSTED: Thu Jun 08, 2017 12:22 am

OOC - +300 words.

WHERE WORDS FAIL, MUSIC SPEAKS

Dealing with new slaves was both new and not for the Overseer. Of course he was used to checking and evaluating new personal slaves, but this was something much different. This was even different from the coniditioning he had with Merlin. This was someone they had been at war with.. well perhaps not war, but someone that was their enemy, and he could not be trusted. Still, there had to be a way to bring this male around, and it was Weaver's job to figure out how that would be. Loki had gone to great lengths to ensure he was restrained, but at some point, all of that was going to have to be removed if they were going to move forward. He had to start from somewhere.

Silas was silent. At least he had that part down, though whether he was listening or not was another issue all together. One thing was clear, everything he had on was getting in the way, and it was clear enough that he was uncomfortable. Stepping over to the door to the quarters, he made sure they were shut before he addressed the male before him, "I want to make one thing very clear to you. I don't want to have to make this difficult. You listen and obey, we will have no problems. Now, I am going to remove all your bindings. I want your word that you will sit here and you will behave. You may speak." That was all it took for his 'freedom'.

The tawny man remained standing, positioned behind the male's back. If he was going to try anything, he would have something coming to him. Perhaps it wouldn't have been best for him to do this on his own, but if he could get through to the dark male with at least some sense of compassion and show he was not as bad as he might have thought, then perhaps it would make things easier for him to adjust to.

Weaver Valentine

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