[m] to drift or drown upon the seas

POSTED: Wed Apr 26, 2017 2:24 pm

WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

00+ One of the slaves (Corrine maybe!) would've seen him go and could have reported it so Idri can find him.

See galleries for credit.

Rain leaked through the patched roof in drops that echoed among the death rattles and groans of old men, and Silas curled trembling on the scratchy rug thrown down hurriedly for a new slave, a captured enemy slave, and suffered a fever dream.

In it he recognized the fires that had killed his parents, recognized the stench of it and the cries -- but the forests were northern pine, and he could smell salt that wasn't from the lake. Coyotes ran past him, yipping, howling, and were pursued by horses and deer all fleeing that blazing wildfire that tore through his body, his soul. He could feel his flesh melt even as he took every step he could toward the stream he knew was there, the stream by the camp -- and there he knew where he was. The enemy had set fire to the camp, but not the enemy he'd been warned of pursuing. Barbarians, but not coyotes -- witches, half-breeds, massive wolves like bears and hounds with shining teeth like swords.

And his nephew's voice screaming, because Hell had come for them.

He woke, clutching at his throat for a crucifix that was not there, and coughed. He grabbed his neck and stared into the dimness of the cavern, then rose to his feet -- a slow and painful process, with more than one spill. He thought he saw eyes gleaming at him in the dark but ignored them, quietly making his way out of the cottage and staggering blindly into the dark, while the gibbous moon glowed in the gap of rainclouds.

Silas ran into the night, hallucinating fire and the horsemen of war.

When I grow up, I'm going to be as good a soldier as Mother, bragged Zacchaeus, while his sisters wrestled in the shade of a scraggly tree. The badlands were much like this -- thin foliage, thorny and unkind, and hard earth, but the pups didn't mind the dust.

Silas smiled, and his sister laughed. She had a youthful laugh, just out of childhood herself, and yet had already made a name for herself among her peers. Being a young single mother had not set her back in this aspect, though Silas pleaded with her to retire as he had, to stay with the children and keep them safe.

I best keep them safe when I'm out killing those varmints, she'd replied. Silas conceded.

That was when the children still called him "Uncle" and not "Father," as they had taken to when the somber soldier adopted them as his own. Already he fulfilled the position of the father that they'd never had (a man whose treasons erased his name), but now it was true. He was their father, and they were the most precious things in his life -- all that was left of his sister, all that was left of innocence in the badlands. Angels playing in dust.

And he'd failed Zacchi. He'd failed his son.

He stopped running when his paws hit rock and the scent of brine and fish washed over him. A dry tongue flickered over lips sprayed with salt, and he stared down the precipice at the dark, thrashing ocean as the rains fell. The stone was slick; a misstep would be simple for even an experienced soldier to take.

Silas stood at the edge, reeling, shaking.

POSTED: Sun Apr 30, 2017 11:36 pm

Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me

Idrieus didn't like the idea of being out in the rain, nor the idea of having to go and look for the man that had taken Artemisia away from her. Still, Corrine had come to her after spotting the male leaving their quarters. It was seen that even as the female slave was coming out, the Overseer's owl was not too far behind her, more than likely going off to inform its master that one of the slaves was running out in the dead of night without any form of permission or escort. There was a chance he could have been trying to escape, and that was something she could not allow. Still, this slave needed just as much care. Stepping from the door, she ordered the female to her wait in her own quarters, at least until the male was found and the storm had passed. That should keep her dry while she searched.

There was a small direction given to her by Corrine, but other than that it was proving to be hard to find the male. The rain was making it hard to follow a scent to find him. Where could he have gone in the middle of the night? If this was an attempt at escape, then he could have been anywhere. Having finally met up with the Overseer himself, the three of them split up, looking across the entire kingdom to find the slave. They were not going to rest until he was found.

As the dog woman came along the shore, her blue eyes managed to catch something along the rocks in the darkness. It was a bit hard to see from the distance, but as she came closer, the form of Silas began to form. Picking up her face, she moved behind him, watching him carefully as he stood along the edge. Was he planning suicide? Death was too good for the man that had caused the death of her mother-figure. She pressed on, addressing him as she kept a bit of a distance, though slowly closed it, "What the hell do you think you are doing? Step away from the edge."

+300 words.

Idrieus Eternity

The Paladin
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POSTED: Sun May 21, 2017 6:28 pm

Third reply from me, short and late like the others, aren't you lucky :sweatdrop:

Rain streamed down his face like tears, and he opened his mouth to gasp and pant and taste the water like it was his salvation. It tasted of salt like the great lake near Zion, where men and women went to be baptized, and all at once he thought of throwing himself into that great ocean beneath him, that he could meet the Spirit.

The thought drove him to sobs, great dry hacks that constricted his chest as he, feverish, reeled again. He went to a knee this time, claws scraping rock, as a voice shouted above the roar of the sea. He turned his head to see a woman with dark gold hair and anger in her eyes as she came closer, and at her question he began to laugh, even as his throat tasted of blood.

Why? Silas sneered, and when he licked his lips his tongue brushed the ring hanging from his nose. You've—you've taken it all away from me—everything I've ever loved is gone, my son is gone, you—

He retched, and stared at the clear dribble that fell from chattering jaws.

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