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Octavian Mackul · Visitor Joined: 24 Jun 2010 Posts: 9

Air laden with salt permeated his senses. Just before the horizon line sat a ship. Just past sunset,he figured it was headed out on another run. Even from this distance he could tell the bottom was flat. A merchant vessel, it had been a familiar sight for as long as he could remember. Tiny tugs on his memory, like the plucking of lute strings, tingled at the sight. It wasn’t appreciation really. It was more like disgust, covered in a light film of spiderwebs and decay.

“This is our ticket in Octavian. “ His Mother’s voice echoed in the confines of his skull. Tickets. That was all she had cared about. Tickets to the ships, tickets to money, Tickets to power, tickets to the inner circle of some society “THEY” deemed to be the end all be all. He didn’t even know who the frack “THEY” were. He’d never really cared.

He raked his hand through his dust covered hair. The spiderwebs were as thick in his locks as they were in his memory. He closed his eyes, dragging them away from the distant ship. He took a deep breath, and filled his lungs with an even more familiar scent. This one was not of salt, not of sea. This was flesh, blood and bone. This was dinner. And it was less than 200 feet away. The injured miner in the caves had been a mercy feed. It was dying, and so it provided. Tit for tat. All in all the poor sap got off lucky. What ass wanders into an unknown area unarmed?

The miner's clothes were certainly different, he'd made note of that when his head had cleared. That design, he'd never seen one like it before. Not that it really mattered, it was a scrawny human by any standard. Still, food was food and when you go without it for for as long as he had, even scrawny will work.
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Octavian Mackul · Visitor Joined: 24 Jun 2010 Posts: 9

The animal within still threatened to break its already short chain. He wiped the back of his arm across his mouth to catch the left over juices and stopped cold at what he saw. Off white was clearly visible beneath an ashen surface. He watched as a light hue of pink infiltrated in tiny vein like lines along the paper thin skin. If that was how his arm looked he could only imagine how the rest of him did.

Not fast enough, he thought. A mix of fury and hunger seemed to burn at him inside out. He knew feeding in places like this was not a good idea. He really didn't give a hang about the food supplies feelings. But he did give a damn about the food supplies families, and co-workers coming after him in one mob like group. Another two decades starving in some hell hole of a cavern was not his idea of a good time.

With the speed of a turtle he began to walk in the direction of the trees. From his position in the cold shadowed corner of the building he had protection from what little sunlight had seen fit to drench the area. Now that night had fallen he could move freer. Bout damn time, he thought. It was going to take all night to move the needed space to get more food. “Not bloody likely,” he answered. “If I get to it, it's mine.”

Twenty minutes later he was standing in front of a drake with a human leg in his hands. “ You want this? You want this?” he taunted, reaching the folded leg out thigh first to the dragon. He laughed as it clawed and growled. “I got it first. You're really slow.” With a grin he tossed it up in the air. “Fetch!” Dark brown scales rippled and curled as the drake thought on which piece to go after, the trunk underneath Octavian's foot, or the hearty hamhock sized extremity two paces back. With a snort it decided on the hamhock.
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Octavian Mackul · Visitor Joined: 24 Jun 2010 Posts: 9

In the hours since his awakening and subsequent feeding, the muscle and sinew had stretched and encircled his bones once more. The original ashen gray had been replaced by the deep apricot color he had always been. He was certain if he could see his reflection chin length locks would stand out in the moonlight.

Moonlight. Octavian wasn't one who really gave a care to words. Actions, after all, were much clear. Anyone could say words, lies. You couldn't fake it with your hand, with your sword, or with your fist. Once they landed, the story was final. But that word seemed to hold sway with him. When you go so long without seeing it, without being in the world beneath it, it changes you. How long had he actually been gone? He could take a guess but he needed concrete facts. Humans still gathered in groups right? Still drank until their bodies were passed out in some unfamiliar tavern with a wench whose name they didn’t know? One of them could give him a year, a date.

Double checking to make sure he had deposited all of his nights efforts in places no one would ever find he got up from his crouched position on the ground and went in search of just such a place. Yup, the nearest bar was his best bet. Another stranger in a room full of drunken strangers would make less impact then smack dab in the middle of town.
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Octavian Mackul · Visitor Joined: 24 Jun 2010 Posts: 9

Britain. Half-past midnight. A smile tugged at his lips as he twirled the cup in front of him. It was empty. The urge to eat or drink anything even remotely akin to actual food had been gone for decades. Decades. He replayed that word over and over in his thoughts. Two decades and two years to be exact, he had lay dormant in that cave. Twenty-two years of nothingness. Rage, pure and hot boiled within as he flashed on the memories of just how he came to be in that desolate spot.

Memories lay just beneath the surface and if one knew where to look it was easy to find. Faces and names swirled and tangled within his chaotic mind. Payback would come. It wouldn't be in the form of hell. No, hell was way too good a word for what he was going to do. They would be praying for hell by the time he was done.
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Phaidra Lenoir · Visitor Joined: 13 Aug 2009 Posts: 10

Phaidra pulled at the ale bottle as her head tipped back and her throat opened to receive her reward after a long day of patrolling the city. It wasn't the lack of enjoyment at her job. She had earned a certain respect among the people, although her motivations were not as virtuous as some of them sung. The miscreants, small-time gang members and pushy pimps were nothing to her. She didn't do her job to save the innocents. It was the innate desire to show these little wastes of life that for all their bravado and bluster... they were absolutely nothing. They were just small fish in a ocean and she was the mother fracking shark.

The door to the Unicorn's Horn opened. Phaidra lowered the bottle and looked across her heavy boots that were propped on the table. She expected to see another drifter or one of the less savory of the populace walk in to this secluded watering hole. What walked in was someone and something she had never seen before.

He looked like a walking rock. His muscles cried and fought from the rough, tanned skin that held them captive. His long hair looked like wild with small remnants of green and orange streaks. She estimated he had over a foot on her and probably easily a hundred pounds as well. Her eyes flickered to the side and saw the wenches already dropping their interest on their perspective clients and beginning to move in mass towards the new flavor of the month. She smirked slightly as she could hear the hushed whispers as they made derogatory comments to one another as they straightened their skirts and begin to saunter towards the new piece of meat.

The man strode over to the bar and sat down. A small scuffle as one of the older wenches was pushed out of the way as a much younger made her way to the front. The rest of them hovered behind her like a pack of hungry dogs waiting to get the scraps. Phaidra lifted her bottle again to take another drink as she attempted to watch the scene unfold through the smokey glass.

"Hey there, want to have a good time big guy?" the one said. "I'm reasonably priced and very talented in handling... big.. things."

The man turned his head and looked at her for a moment. "Not interested."

"Come on... a big man like you has needs. I'll make sure you're taken care of..." she attempted to convince him as she ran her hands down the side of her body to accentuate her curves.

One of the wenches behind her that was definitely on the heavier side said, "He's probably afraid he'll snap you in half. He needs a woman with real curves that can withstand his attention. Not a little twig like you, Cherit."

Cherit turned her head to look at the other wench. Her mouth slack in shock at the comment and while the wheel in her brain spun slowly attempting to find a retort, her eyes spewed pure venom.

"Move over for a real woman, " she said as she shoulder shoved Cherit out of the way. The woman grotesquely and lewdly reached up and smashed her large breasts together through her corset and leaned forward. "How about it? I can take whatever you dish out, mister. "

The rock man was beginning to look annoyed. "I said, Not interested, " he said firmly. Several of the wenches began to back away and move back to their previous targets. Most of those men were completely unaware in their drunken state that their wenches had dropped them like a rock and offered the women their laps. Cherit and the other woman continued to banter, attempting to convince the guy to take them up on their offer as the rest of the prostitutes went back to business as usual. After awhile, they gave up as well and sulked back to the corner of the tavern with more hissing comments exchanged between them.

A barmaid came over with another ale and set it down in front of her. Phaidra nodded to her, drained the one she had and handed her the empty bottle. She barmaid smiled and strode back to the counter. Phaidra watched her as she went and then let her eyes drift around the tables as she picked up the new bottle. Most of the patrons were behaving, as well as they usually did that is. She heard a sound of a distinct giggle and looked in its direction. The barmaid was conversing with the stranger who seemed to have sprung a sudden interest in the opposite sex. Phaidra watched the fella lean across the counter and whisper to the young woman who paused while she wiped down the counter with a wet rag.

She could only catch snips of the man's voice over the drunken bawdiness of the rest of the tavern. She watched the barmaid glance at the simple timepiece on her wrist. She saw the man smile and was keenly aware that it did not reach his dark eyes. He said something else that Phaidra couldn't make out and the young woman blushed.

Damn it.

So the hours passed as they do with ale, laughter and company. Phaidra had a few more bottles of ale. Gradually as the time crept closer to midnight, the tavern began to slowly empty out. The wenches and drunk men began to stumble out into the crisp night air to look for an alley or a wall shadowed by broken lamplight to do a few coin's worth of love. It was almost closing time and the stranger was still here. It was obvious he wasn't here for food or drink as he had not partaken in any for the entire evening. He had purchased some meat stew and stale bread when the tavernkeeper made the comment he needed to buy something or take up space elsewhere. The plate of food had long since grown cold as it sat to one side, untouched.

Phaidra slid her boots off the table and drained the last bottle of ale. She tugged open her coin pouch and pulled out enough to cover the evening plus a few extras for the barmaid. She didn't know about the much young woman, but she did know that she had lost her parents and was supporting a younger brother. It had been her sister, Ariana, who had gotten the girl this job with the instructions to Phaidra to keep an eye on her.

Arching her back, she stood and moved over to the counter where the young woman was hovering near the stranger. She leaned over the counter and extended her hand with the coins. The woman smiled and took them. After pulling out her tip she deposited the rest in the tavern's coffer. Phaidra lingered for a moment and then straightened herself. She let her dark eyes swing over the man's face pausing briefly. Their eyes met for a moment and then Phaidra left. She made her way to the nearby rise of grass alongside the tavern. She laid down on her stomach, hidden by the night and away from the revealing lamp posts that flickered ominously. Her eyes watched the tavern door and waited. She had the patient of a saint under the right circumstances... the chance to kick the rubbish out of someone was one of them.
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Octavian Mackul · Visitor Joined: 24 Jun 2010 Posts: 9

Like flies on crap they circled him. Each of them trying their best to outshine the other. Fat, thin, short, or tall didn't matter. They pushed at prodded at each other. Cattle at feeding time had better manners. I had taken three, “Not Interesteds”, each more insistent than the last for them to finally give up and go carousing back to the men they were already accustomed to.

He'd never paid much attention to the harlots. You never knew where they had been and who they had been with. That alone made them way out of the range of probable in his mind.

He watched as the pretty little thing with the apron came over to check on him. Long blond hair fell in curls over slim shoulders as she pushed a rag back and forth across the wood. Casually she asked if needed anything else and blushed as he replied, “Just your name.”

“Jessica.” The red tint to her cheeks remained as he softly complimented her eyes. His words were hushed and wove themselves through the noise and bustle of the tavern with practiced ease. He didn't guess her to be much more than 17. And from the way the heat rose in her skin when his gloved hand brushed past, she was probably as pure as the freshest snowfall. His dark eyes raked over the crowd slowly, his right arm resting on the counter. Just behind and off to the side a lanky creature of the female variety, lithe and confident watched him. Her dark eyes had been in his general direction since he had walked in. But unlike those of the working girls who flounced themselves in his face, she seemed to have no interest in his pockets or his appendages. He would say she had an interest in ale, as she had been downing them slow and steady throughout the eve, but her mind nor her attention diminished.

Hours wore on as they are prone to do in a tavern and Jessica had politely informed him that she was there till closing. Suggestively he explained he would wait right where he was until that time. His comment was answered by a smile that seemed to light up her face and he grinned to himself. As patrons began to file out, so did the woman whose attention he'd caught earlier. Stopping next to him he saw her glance once to the plate of food he hadn't touched and then up to meet his eyes. Locking momentarily a slight hint of lightening laced in ice passed between them as she headed out the door.

Silently he waited for Jessica to clean up. At the very least she was willing, and at the very most, it wouldn't be a mess or a struggle. Cinching his arm tightly around her waist she blew out the candles and leaned into his solid form as they headed out the door into the night.
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