Set in a world of predatory mammals and griffins, a reformed assassin, two winged snowy leopard assassins, and a mad griffiness try to make their way. Their trials are many and their successes are few, but life in Oppidum can be summarized no better. |
Tales of Oppidum
Characters involved: Everyone on the Oppidum page (Exsohs, Nyra, Famine & Pestilence.)
Writing Type: Open for writing by other people Status: Entirely written by other authors, I don't dictate plot and stories (though appearing in the same universe do not have a larger connecting plot) |
Foal or Not
“And I don’t want you to just kill him, you hear me? I want you to make that bastard bleed.” The griffon’s voice came out in a raspy growl, eager and malicious. “I want that stupid cat to know that when he owes money to the Silvanus, he better pay up.”
Exsohs nodded, his face emotionless. This was just another contract kill to him. What felt more important right now was Li. He’d left his advisor home alone for the first time, after he’d been lectured by him last night. Li often struggled to understand what Exsohs knew – heat and food cost money, and he was good enough at killing to get money for it. Li kept insisting that he get into other work, that even if their bellies were a little bit emptier and the coal was a little bit less, it would be better. Exsohs disagreed.
His mind wandering, he couldn’t help but sigh and shrug his shoulders a bit. “You chick’nen out, toughy?” The griffin snapped, bringing his focus back to the task at hand. The stallion shook his head and then replied. “Of course not. All I need now are the details and the payment.”
His ‘boss’, so to speak, gave him a sly grin before sliding him a hefty sack of currency and a slip of paper. “Rest comes after it’s over. Two hundred now, and two hundred later.”
“Where will I pick up the two hundred later?”
The stallion’s voice was calm but focused. He’d killed his bosses to settle debts before, but that wasn’t a good way to get repeat business. This griffon, dishonest and petty, would probably make excellent repeat business.
“It’s on the paper. Money’ll be right here. Under the trashcan.”
To prove his point, the griffon sauntered over to the can and nudged it over. Underneath was a little niche just big enough to fit a coinpurse of about the size he’d just gotten. Exsohs remarked that everything looked good, and if there were no further requests, he would leave.
“Keep it hush, mhm?” This was already something Exsohs did, but every client seemed to give that reminder. The stallion started his journey home, alone. Even though Li would usually be nagging him, he found it lonely without the little slmorthi.
As he opened the door to the little room they called home, he called for his advisor. “Li! I’m back! Do you want to go to the market later?” Even though he knew Li would be angry, he at least wanted to try to avoid it by sounding cheerful. His attempts were unsuccessful, as shown by the angry Li who jumped out of their bed.
“Where were you? Do you know how worried I was?”
The stallion didn’t even have a chance to apologize before Li jumped on his back and lightly swatted his ear. He flinched, not from pain, but from guilt. “Don’t ever do that again! I don’t care where you’re going, just don’t leave me here.” Exsohs hung his head before mumbling out an answer.
“Sorry Li. It won’t happen again. We have more money now.”
His advisor sighed before hopping off his back and going back to the bed. “Do you still want to go to the market?” No response came from the pile of furs, and Exsohs felt awful. He sat down his payment and the instructions, not feeling like looking over them now. Instead, he solemnly marched to the corner and laid down. The contract would have to wait.
Exsohs had managed to drift off on the floor, and he awoke from Li’s gentle prodding. “Come on, let’s go to the market. We do need food.” The slmorthi’s voice was soft now, not angry like it had been before. The stallion’s stomach was beginning to growl, so he didn’t mind getting up and leaving.
Their trip at the market was uneventful, and they only ended up spending a little of the gold Exsohs had made. When they returned home, he began looking over the contract paper, Li at his side. Even if his companion didn’t approve, he still wanted to help the stallion stay safe. Lucky for them, it seemed like with this assignment, safety would be easy.
The target was a tiger named Sunami. He lived in a village not far from Snowedinn, and worked hauling lumber. Hard work, but honest. Sunami had a family that consisted of his wife and their cub. None of that really mattered to Exsohs. What did were the cat’s primary locations and the most painful methods he could use to kill him. The most important part was making sure the customer was satisfied.
Exsohs’ brain began turning for methods to ensure the tiger’s long and untimely demise. He’d seen lumber haulers before, and knew them as strong fellows who often encountered, and survived, accidents on the job. Those forests were dangerous, indeed.
Trees fell all the time.
That was it! If the stallion could knock over a dying tree at just the right time, it’d crush Sunami enough to kill him. It would also be a nice, quiet method of assassination. He grinned at his plan, before going over it with Li. The advisor, though disapproving, agreed that it would work. And so it was settled. Tomorrow morning they would go scout out the territory, looking for the routes the target would be likely to take and finding the weakest trees along the paths.
Exsohs slept well that night, with food in his belly and a nice sack of coins beside the bed. He knew he’d have money to keep them safe for a long while, and he probably got a repeat customer, too.
Li didn’t sleep as soundly. Exsohs, once a sweet foal, was now a hardened contract killer. Deep down, he felt like he could’ve changed his path. What could he have done differently, if he tried again?
As soon as dawn broke, the two headed north towards the village. Li rode on Exsohs’ back, and they travelled at a decent pace on the stone-paved road. When they got there, it wasn’t hard for them to find the lumbermill, and the target, Sunami.
He was currently chatting and joking with some of the other workers. He was clearly one of the most popular people there, and you could hear a lot of “You’ve got that right, Sunami!” and “Mhm, you know about that, Sunami!” from his comrades. Exsohs, putting on his best nervous-newbie voice, walked into the circle and asked who the boss was. Unsurprisingly, Sunami replied.
“He’s not here today, but if you’re looking for work, you can work with me and I’ll get him to pay you tomorrow.”
“That sounds good! What do you do?” Exsohs already knew the answer, but he couldn’t make it obvious that he did. When the tiger replied, he pretended to be interested.
“I’m one of the fellows who hauls lumber up from where they cut it ‘n brings it to the mill. Real hard job, but you seem strong enough. What’s your name, pal? I’m Sunami.”
Exsohs was prepared to be someone else. He did it all the time when jobs required it. “My name’s Eridian. I used to haul lumber for a camp down south, but they closed and I had to go looking for greener pastures.”
“Aw… another one of those stories. Camps close all the time. My last one did, too.” Sunami nodded solemnly before continuing. “I’m real glad I found work up here, because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to keep the cub fed. Already had to borrow money from a fella in the city just for a roof.”
The stallion nodded in feigned understanding as they started down the trail. They could hear the cracks of trees collapsing as they got nearer, and Exsohs couldn’t help but get mildly unnerved from the sound. He kept a watchful eye out for rotting trees as they went, and he noticed several.
Now just to keep himself from getting burdened down by a load of lumber. As they came up to a tree root in the path, he tripped himself on it, falling face first into the dirt. Li, who previously napped quietly on his back, let out a squeak of alarm and slid off. Sunami immediately turned to check on him, worried about the newcomer’s health.
Exsohs stumbled up as if he had an awful limp, and sighed. “I won’t be able to do any work today, but can I at least see where the trees are for tomorrow?” Sunami agreed that it would be good to, if he could handle it. He insisted that he could, and he and his companion stumbled along behind him.
“Did you have to do that?” Li whispered angrily. Exsohs nodded.
As they got to the cut trees, there was already a cart ready for Sunami to pull. He slid himself in the harness expertly, taking only a few minutes there before turning around. Exsohs didn’t say anything, still pretending to be in tremendous pain. It was his turn to lead on the way back, and he did.
When they were far enough in the middle of the forest, the stallion stopped at a tree. His limp vanished, and he chuckled softly. His target, confused, stopped walking.
“Is there something wrong?”
“Not at all. I was just thinking what a shame it’d be if one of these trees fell. Right on your back.”
Sunami felt his heart thud in his chest. Something was wrong. He almost felt frozen to do anything as the newcomer reared up, hitting the rotted tree trunk with his forepaws. It collapsed, and all the tiger could do was shout as he was pinned down.
Li had scampered off, unwilling to watch.
Exsohs walked closer, humming as he did so. “Seems you’re in a dilemma, pal. Mmm…” With that, he reared again, kicking the portion of the trunk that held the tiger down. The sickening crunch of ribs breaking sounded just like the crack of the trees falling. His target was taking his final breaths, and Exsohs was sure it wouldn’t be long before he was dead. He whistled for Li and resumed going down the trail, his advisor on his shoulder.
As he got near to the mill, he faked his injury again. When asked where Sunami was, he said he had to turn around because of his hurt foot and that he didn’t know. The workers there remarked that he should probably get back home soon, because that seemed like a nasty break. The stallion nodded while faking a wince in pain as he headed down the road.
After they got home, the pair headed back to the market, as they’d only gotten enough food for one day the last time they were there. Having not eaten since last night, both Exsohs and Li were starving. Exsohs had enough money on him to take them out to eat, and it almost took Li’s mind off of the assassination that occurred earlier in the day.
During part of the meal, Li grew quiet. Finally, he let out a deep sigh and fluffed his mane. “He had a family, Exsohs.”
Too ashamed to reply, the stallion scarfed down his meal.
The next day was rainy and cold. Exsohs shivered a bit as he walked to the north side of town, Li following. He was going to go collect the rest of his payment, as he was confident that the news had broken of his target’s death by now.
It had. In fact, the griffon who hired him had heard about it last night and put the money in its hiding spot. Exsohs slipped down the alleyway, but noticed another figure there as well. He stopped, concerned. Had his client ratted him out?
The figure in the alley was another creature much like himself, but barely a foal. It tipped over the can gently and let its advisor, a pale white slmorthi, fish the bag of coins out from under the trashcan.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” Exsohs barked out, charging towards the foal. Terrified, its advisor scampered behind it, coinpurse still in its mouth. The foal looked frightened as well, and Exsohs could tell he was shaking.
Something seemed wrong with this. The foal couldn’t be any older than ten, and it looked like a scrawny street-orphan. “Who are you, kid?” The stallion looked the youth over carefully, and glanced down the rest of the alley too, making sure this wasn’t a trap.
“My- my name’s Resix and I ain’t scared of you!” the foal shouted, trying to sound confident. It failed. Exsohs huffed in his face. “An’ I know what you did too! You’re a murderer!”
“And you’re a thief. Will you give me back my money, or are we going to have a problem here?” His voice was smooth and sweet, but in an angry way. He didn’t want to be in this situation, today or ever. Things were supposed to go smoothly.
“You can’t have it back and if you take it I’ll tell the guards on you and they’ll eat you!” Resix put all his muster into those words, though it still wasn’t much.
“You’re going to regret saying that.”
Exsohs, with a mighty swoop of his bladed tail, hit the unsuspecting slmorthi and stole the little bit of life out of its lungs. The foal, shocked and scared, stood over its companion, tears in its eyes.
With another swoop, the foal’s jugular was slit open and he collapsed to the ground, choking and dying.
The stallion calmly picked up the bag of coins and called for Li again, who had disappeared during the commotion.
They walked home in near silence, with only one interruption from Li.
“He was just a foal, Exsohs. He reminded me of you.”
“He stole from me, Li. Foal or not.”
Written by: Swing (#2064)
“And I don’t want you to just kill him, you hear me? I want you to make that bastard bleed.” The griffon’s voice came out in a raspy growl, eager and malicious. “I want that stupid cat to know that when he owes money to the Silvanus, he better pay up.”
Exsohs nodded, his face emotionless. This was just another contract kill to him. What felt more important right now was Li. He’d left his advisor home alone for the first time, after he’d been lectured by him last night. Li often struggled to understand what Exsohs knew – heat and food cost money, and he was good enough at killing to get money for it. Li kept insisting that he get into other work, that even if their bellies were a little bit emptier and the coal was a little bit less, it would be better. Exsohs disagreed.
His mind wandering, he couldn’t help but sigh and shrug his shoulders a bit. “You chick’nen out, toughy?” The griffin snapped, bringing his focus back to the task at hand. The stallion shook his head and then replied. “Of course not. All I need now are the details and the payment.”
His ‘boss’, so to speak, gave him a sly grin before sliding him a hefty sack of currency and a slip of paper. “Rest comes after it’s over. Two hundred now, and two hundred later.”
“Where will I pick up the two hundred later?”
The stallion’s voice was calm but focused. He’d killed his bosses to settle debts before, but that wasn’t a good way to get repeat business. This griffon, dishonest and petty, would probably make excellent repeat business.
“It’s on the paper. Money’ll be right here. Under the trashcan.”
To prove his point, the griffon sauntered over to the can and nudged it over. Underneath was a little niche just big enough to fit a coinpurse of about the size he’d just gotten. Exsohs remarked that everything looked good, and if there were no further requests, he would leave.
“Keep it hush, mhm?” This was already something Exsohs did, but every client seemed to give that reminder. The stallion started his journey home, alone. Even though Li would usually be nagging him, he found it lonely without the little slmorthi.
As he opened the door to the little room they called home, he called for his advisor. “Li! I’m back! Do you want to go to the market later?” Even though he knew Li would be angry, he at least wanted to try to avoid it by sounding cheerful. His attempts were unsuccessful, as shown by the angry Li who jumped out of their bed.
“Where were you? Do you know how worried I was?”
The stallion didn’t even have a chance to apologize before Li jumped on his back and lightly swatted his ear. He flinched, not from pain, but from guilt. “Don’t ever do that again! I don’t care where you’re going, just don’t leave me here.” Exsohs hung his head before mumbling out an answer.
“Sorry Li. It won’t happen again. We have more money now.”
His advisor sighed before hopping off his back and going back to the bed. “Do you still want to go to the market?” No response came from the pile of furs, and Exsohs felt awful. He sat down his payment and the instructions, not feeling like looking over them now. Instead, he solemnly marched to the corner and laid down. The contract would have to wait.
Exsohs had managed to drift off on the floor, and he awoke from Li’s gentle prodding. “Come on, let’s go to the market. We do need food.” The slmorthi’s voice was soft now, not angry like it had been before. The stallion’s stomach was beginning to growl, so he didn’t mind getting up and leaving.
Their trip at the market was uneventful, and they only ended up spending a little of the gold Exsohs had made. When they returned home, he began looking over the contract paper, Li at his side. Even if his companion didn’t approve, he still wanted to help the stallion stay safe. Lucky for them, it seemed like with this assignment, safety would be easy.
The target was a tiger named Sunami. He lived in a village not far from Snowedinn, and worked hauling lumber. Hard work, but honest. Sunami had a family that consisted of his wife and their cub. None of that really mattered to Exsohs. What did were the cat’s primary locations and the most painful methods he could use to kill him. The most important part was making sure the customer was satisfied.
Exsohs’ brain began turning for methods to ensure the tiger’s long and untimely demise. He’d seen lumber haulers before, and knew them as strong fellows who often encountered, and survived, accidents on the job. Those forests were dangerous, indeed.
Trees fell all the time.
That was it! If the stallion could knock over a dying tree at just the right time, it’d crush Sunami enough to kill him. It would also be a nice, quiet method of assassination. He grinned at his plan, before going over it with Li. The advisor, though disapproving, agreed that it would work. And so it was settled. Tomorrow morning they would go scout out the territory, looking for the routes the target would be likely to take and finding the weakest trees along the paths.
Exsohs slept well that night, with food in his belly and a nice sack of coins beside the bed. He knew he’d have money to keep them safe for a long while, and he probably got a repeat customer, too.
Li didn’t sleep as soundly. Exsohs, once a sweet foal, was now a hardened contract killer. Deep down, he felt like he could’ve changed his path. What could he have done differently, if he tried again?
As soon as dawn broke, the two headed north towards the village. Li rode on Exsohs’ back, and they travelled at a decent pace on the stone-paved road. When they got there, it wasn’t hard for them to find the lumbermill, and the target, Sunami.
He was currently chatting and joking with some of the other workers. He was clearly one of the most popular people there, and you could hear a lot of “You’ve got that right, Sunami!” and “Mhm, you know about that, Sunami!” from his comrades. Exsohs, putting on his best nervous-newbie voice, walked into the circle and asked who the boss was. Unsurprisingly, Sunami replied.
“He’s not here today, but if you’re looking for work, you can work with me and I’ll get him to pay you tomorrow.”
“That sounds good! What do you do?” Exsohs already knew the answer, but he couldn’t make it obvious that he did. When the tiger replied, he pretended to be interested.
“I’m one of the fellows who hauls lumber up from where they cut it ‘n brings it to the mill. Real hard job, but you seem strong enough. What’s your name, pal? I’m Sunami.”
Exsohs was prepared to be someone else. He did it all the time when jobs required it. “My name’s Eridian. I used to haul lumber for a camp down south, but they closed and I had to go looking for greener pastures.”
“Aw… another one of those stories. Camps close all the time. My last one did, too.” Sunami nodded solemnly before continuing. “I’m real glad I found work up here, because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to keep the cub fed. Already had to borrow money from a fella in the city just for a roof.”
The stallion nodded in feigned understanding as they started down the trail. They could hear the cracks of trees collapsing as they got nearer, and Exsohs couldn’t help but get mildly unnerved from the sound. He kept a watchful eye out for rotting trees as they went, and he noticed several.
Now just to keep himself from getting burdened down by a load of lumber. As they came up to a tree root in the path, he tripped himself on it, falling face first into the dirt. Li, who previously napped quietly on his back, let out a squeak of alarm and slid off. Sunami immediately turned to check on him, worried about the newcomer’s health.
Exsohs stumbled up as if he had an awful limp, and sighed. “I won’t be able to do any work today, but can I at least see where the trees are for tomorrow?” Sunami agreed that it would be good to, if he could handle it. He insisted that he could, and he and his companion stumbled along behind him.
“Did you have to do that?” Li whispered angrily. Exsohs nodded.
As they got to the cut trees, there was already a cart ready for Sunami to pull. He slid himself in the harness expertly, taking only a few minutes there before turning around. Exsohs didn’t say anything, still pretending to be in tremendous pain. It was his turn to lead on the way back, and he did.
When they were far enough in the middle of the forest, the stallion stopped at a tree. His limp vanished, and he chuckled softly. His target, confused, stopped walking.
“Is there something wrong?”
“Not at all. I was just thinking what a shame it’d be if one of these trees fell. Right on your back.”
Sunami felt his heart thud in his chest. Something was wrong. He almost felt frozen to do anything as the newcomer reared up, hitting the rotted tree trunk with his forepaws. It collapsed, and all the tiger could do was shout as he was pinned down.
Li had scampered off, unwilling to watch.
Exsohs walked closer, humming as he did so. “Seems you’re in a dilemma, pal. Mmm…” With that, he reared again, kicking the portion of the trunk that held the tiger down. The sickening crunch of ribs breaking sounded just like the crack of the trees falling. His target was taking his final breaths, and Exsohs was sure it wouldn’t be long before he was dead. He whistled for Li and resumed going down the trail, his advisor on his shoulder.
As he got near to the mill, he faked his injury again. When asked where Sunami was, he said he had to turn around because of his hurt foot and that he didn’t know. The workers there remarked that he should probably get back home soon, because that seemed like a nasty break. The stallion nodded while faking a wince in pain as he headed down the road.
After they got home, the pair headed back to the market, as they’d only gotten enough food for one day the last time they were there. Having not eaten since last night, both Exsohs and Li were starving. Exsohs had enough money on him to take them out to eat, and it almost took Li’s mind off of the assassination that occurred earlier in the day.
During part of the meal, Li grew quiet. Finally, he let out a deep sigh and fluffed his mane. “He had a family, Exsohs.”
Too ashamed to reply, the stallion scarfed down his meal.
The next day was rainy and cold. Exsohs shivered a bit as he walked to the north side of town, Li following. He was going to go collect the rest of his payment, as he was confident that the news had broken of his target’s death by now.
It had. In fact, the griffon who hired him had heard about it last night and put the money in its hiding spot. Exsohs slipped down the alleyway, but noticed another figure there as well. He stopped, concerned. Had his client ratted him out?
The figure in the alley was another creature much like himself, but barely a foal. It tipped over the can gently and let its advisor, a pale white slmorthi, fish the bag of coins out from under the trashcan.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” Exsohs barked out, charging towards the foal. Terrified, its advisor scampered behind it, coinpurse still in its mouth. The foal looked frightened as well, and Exsohs could tell he was shaking.
Something seemed wrong with this. The foal couldn’t be any older than ten, and it looked like a scrawny street-orphan. “Who are you, kid?” The stallion looked the youth over carefully, and glanced down the rest of the alley too, making sure this wasn’t a trap.
“My- my name’s Resix and I ain’t scared of you!” the foal shouted, trying to sound confident. It failed. Exsohs huffed in his face. “An’ I know what you did too! You’re a murderer!”
“And you’re a thief. Will you give me back my money, or are we going to have a problem here?” His voice was smooth and sweet, but in an angry way. He didn’t want to be in this situation, today or ever. Things were supposed to go smoothly.
“You can’t have it back and if you take it I’ll tell the guards on you and they’ll eat you!” Resix put all his muster into those words, though it still wasn’t much.
“You’re going to regret saying that.”
Exsohs, with a mighty swoop of his bladed tail, hit the unsuspecting slmorthi and stole the little bit of life out of its lungs. The foal, shocked and scared, stood over its companion, tears in its eyes.
With another swoop, the foal’s jugular was slit open and he collapsed to the ground, choking and dying.
The stallion calmly picked up the bag of coins and called for Li again, who had disappeared during the commotion.
They walked home in near silence, with only one interruption from Li.
“He was just a foal, Exsohs. He reminded me of you.”
“He stole from me, Li. Foal or not.”
Written by: Swing (#2064)
A Murder is a Murder... Isn't it?
“I don’t take contracts any more.” Exshos arched his tail across and let the blade fall gently onto the paper before him. “Not for gold or favours or anything that you would have to offer me.” He pushed and the paper slid across the table, crackling ominously across the scarred wood.
The coyote stared at the bone spike pinning the portrait against the table for a long moment before lifting her head and meeting Exshos’ gaze. “Why then?”She blinked golden eyes and cocked her head to one side, ears swivelling forward to focus on the assassin. “At least give me a reason. Word going around is that you’re turning soft. You don’t take jobs because you’ve lost the drive,” the coyote smirked. She paused for a second and lolled her tongue out as if laughing silently. “Or the stomach for it.”
On his back, Li’ drummed his paws against Exshos’ spine in warning. The slmorthi didn’t speak in public for a number of reasons and in the absence of his voice, he was doing everything in his power to convince his companion not to react. It was a pity then that it had no effect. Exshos blinked his own eyes slowly and cocked his head in parody of the coyote. Before she could react, he whipped his tail upwards and forwards, wafting the paper into the air with the movement and stabbing directly through the forehead of the crude image drawn on it.
His tail-blade came to rest just underneath the coyote’s chin, point tapping gently on the thick fur ruff that bristled in helpless fear. The tavern went silent, raucous laughter and bawdy song cut from the air in a heartbeat as the patrons of the inn recoiled in an instinctive terror from an apex predator. Exsohs leaned forward and spoke conversationally, ignoring the eyes and ears trained on his every movement. “I have reasons,” he murmured, “which you don’t need to know.” He flicked his own ears back in warning and the sharp prickle of claws on his spine immediately ceased as Li’ backed down. “Don’t bait me.”
The assassin held his position for a second, then retracted his tail, brushing the blade contemptuously along the coyote’s muzzle to dislodge the paper. He stood and considered the frozen tableau for a moment, eyeing the half-spilled bowl of rotgut ale that he had been nursing and the tattered image of the coyote’s target. It would be folly to stay here. Exshos heaved a silent sigh and picked his way through the gauntlet of hostile eyes to the door.
Outside, the winter sky dripped snowflakes like water from a clogged pipe. The clouds was iron grey and swirling with angry patterns. In his eyes, it suited Exshos’ mood perfectly. He turned north and began trudging through the half-melted snowdrifts towards the main gate. Despite his sojourn in the tavern, the sun had yet to reach the highest point in the sky and there was plenty of time to lose himself in the wilds outside of Snowedinn. There was a cleanliness to be found out there, free and away from other animals and their crushing constraints of expectations. It would be good to just run and hunt and if there was someone stupid enough to attack him while he was out there, then all the better.
It took three hours of aimless wandering through the wilderness before Li’ finally spoke. The slmorthi’s voice was subdued. “You shouldn’t have threatened her,” he muttered.
Exshos snorted. “I threaten everyone. Why should she be different?”
“Because you can do better.” His advisor’s tone was heavy and the words seemed to reach him from a long distance away. “Because she wasn’t a target and with your skills, you could have probably taken her head from her shoulders without a thought.” Li’s weight shifted on his back and Exshos’ step faltered for a second. “You overreacted and you put a blade to her throat when all she did was touch on something that everyone’s been wondering about. Because youdidn’t bother to think.”
The assassin shook his head. “Then I obviously must have thought that everyone should know better.” Exshos jumped forward suddenly, accelerating from a gentle trot to a pounding gallop as if to leave the past behind. He could feel Li’ silent disappointment radiating from his back like a fire against the snow that fell past his shoulders. Even if his slmorthi was right, he would never admit it, not in a thousand years or a hundred million breaths. In the end, the cold and unfeeling end, it was better to be like ice and snow, survive and not think, rather than be like the fire that thought and burnt and caressed and devoured until everything was ashes and dust. He couldn’t change the way he thought. The past was the past and what had been always would be. What he had become, he was. Li’ might think otherwise, but even he knew that even if a single flake of snow became a brand of fire, the winter would still carry on.
Night had closed its curtains over the stage of the world when Exshos walked the dark back-alleys to his home. The bitter cold had driven most of the prey to ground and he returned with nothing but empty claws to show for the day spent in the wilds. Li’ was once again a silent passenger and the assassin’s thoughts had turned morosely inwards towards the past when the grey form launched itself at him from the shadows.
Exshos reacted without thinking. He reared and whirled around, extending his claws for purchase on the icy ground and lashing out with his hooves. Li’ flung himself away, freeing the assassin from his weight and making himself less of a target that he would be forced to protect. The attack had come from the side and even as Exshos’ hooves flashed past the assailant’s head without connecting, he was leaning away from the charge, whirling away in an economy of fluid movement that brought his hindquarters, his claws and most importantly, his tail to bear. The blade whipped around and struck perfectly, sinking a foot-long slash into the creature’s back and opening the flesh until he could see the white of bone.
The coyote slumped to the ground as if she was a puppet with its strings newly cut. In the moonlight, her blood was black as it gushed out and her twitching legs churned the pitch-dark snow into slush. Her jaws opened and closed convulsively, almost as if she were trying to speak. Exshos lowered his tail and shook himself, gradually relaxing until his muscles felt less like tensed wire. Adrenaline thrummed through him and when Li’ crept out of the shadows, he had half-raised his tail again before he recognised his advisor.
“Exshos.” Li’‘s fur bristled and his spines stood straight from his back. “It’s me. Did she hurt-“ A choked voice cut him off midsentence.
“Assas-“ The slmorthi’s head whipped around and he stared at the coyote. It was clear that she didn’t have long, but still she tried to speak. “I tried- tried to find.” Her syllables were thick with pain and barely loud enough to be heard, but her intention was clear. “Find you, not attack. Hire.” Her tail jerked spasmodically and she coughed before forcing her words out again. “Picture. She’s, a … a sla-, slaver. Children.” The paper she had brought to him in the tavern hours before fluttered near her shaking jaws. “Help-“
The rest of her sentence trailed into a bloody gurgle and once again, the night was quiet and still. Li’ paced slowly over to the crude drawing and snatched it up, bringing it back over to Exshos in silence. A beautiful tiger stared out of the ink and smiled at him prettily with a neat hole in her forehead. At the bottom of the page, her paws were dipped in blood.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Much unlike the northern side, the southern side of Snowedinn was orderly, well-lit and clean. Exshos blinked slowly as the final light in the windows of the grand mansion suddenly was snuffed out. His hindquarters had gone numb from long hours in his cramped position underneath a decorative bush and forelegs were hardly any better off. The trailing branches of the bush had been almost the only place in the ridiculously bright area to hide and for a creature of his size, it was difficult to be stealthy where there were no narrow alleyways or convenient rock formations around.
Li’ poked his muzzle out of the bush and tapped Exshos shoulder twice after a long moment. The slmorthi nodded to his companion and melted into the shadows. Although he had argued against it, he would be returning to their home and waiting for Exshos’ arrival. The assassin huffed a silent sigh as his advisor left and unbent his limbs, flattening his ears against the tremors in his muscles and the stiffness in his joints. It had taken him two weeks to memorise the guard rotations, alarm signals, patrol times and all the other little things that made for a perfect infiltration. Every detail had been checked twice over, both by himself and Li’. The tiger’s place was a death-trap disguised as a grand manor and any mistake would probably prove fatal. He wasn’t going to let sore muscles fail him now.
Half a minute after the third patrol rounded the corner, Exshos gathered his legs underneath him and sprinted for the wall on the west side. The tall box he had placed there six days earlier and covered with snow provided a step up from which he launched himself up and over the wall. Crouched in the deep shadows of the corner of the wall, Exshos held his breath as the third patrol crossed the courtyard and started back. The fox turned the opposite corner after the allotted four minutes and the assassin broke in motion, flowing across the edges of the yard and pressing himself into the cover of the sweet smelling ornamental winter trees that lined the outside of the house.
From there, it was a fifteen second sprint around the west wall to the stableyard, the chicken coops and the kitchen door. The guard posted there took thirty seconds to die and surprisingly, the bar over the door took longer to cut away. By the time he had finally smashed through the heavy wood, Exshos was silently cursing. He was behind schedule for the servant’s rotations inside and it was only luck that kept from being discovered when he slipped out of the kitchen.
The night-watchman’s tail had just switched into the far doorway when the assassin crept into the main hall and immediately bolted up the stairs. The leopard’s nose was good and so he would have to act fast. Exshos had taken precautions to smother his scent in the flowery smell of the winter trees outside but it was fading with every passing second. The assassin tore through the mansion until he reached the tiger’s door in the southern wing.
She was sleeping as he entered. Black stripes against stunningly pale cream fur, delicate whiskers and luxuriously furred tail twitching as she dreamt. As beautiful as she was, Exshos simply didn’t care. His tail flashed up and down and the silken sheets flooded with red to pattern the bold stripes of the tiger’s fur. The scent of blood rose in a thick, metallic miasma and below, the leopard’s roaring cough broke the house from its sleep.
Exshos fled. Running downstairs to retrace his path of entry would lead him straight into the leopard and the oncoming guards, so he chose the sliding double doors and the balcony. The glass cut as he smashed through it but his escape route was clear. From the balcony to the roof of the lower house, from the roof to the top of the wall and from the wall to the ground beyond. On the second jump, his hooves caught the top of the wall and for a heart stopping sceond, he began to tip backwards. The next moment, his claws were scrabbling at the stone and he heaved himself over with a strained grunt.
The streets were deserted and he sped north, feeling his heart pounding rapidly in his chest as he ran. Pursuit was far behind him and for a moment, Exshos could feel a strangeness in the air. The tiger might have been a target, but she had meant something to more than one or two people this time. This wasn’t his usual revenge or manipulation contract. This had the air of purpose and intent behind it, directed not at personal gain, but at what? Something the coyote had left unspoken? The slaves that might possibly be freed? The question coiled in his mind like a waking snake until the road ahead of him suddenly dropped away into unpaved dirt.
At the last moment, Exshos jumped and twisted sideways in the air to break his tracks. The odd feeling evaporated and once again, he was running along the melting slush of a back-alley of the north side, fleeing back to his home and the cold satisfaction of a contract completed. Still, something felt slightly, strangely different. At the very back of his mind, Exshos made a note to ask Li’ if spring was coming.
Written By: Sirrin (#86378)
“I don’t take contracts any more.” Exshos arched his tail across and let the blade fall gently onto the paper before him. “Not for gold or favours or anything that you would have to offer me.” He pushed and the paper slid across the table, crackling ominously across the scarred wood.
The coyote stared at the bone spike pinning the portrait against the table for a long moment before lifting her head and meeting Exshos’ gaze. “Why then?”She blinked golden eyes and cocked her head to one side, ears swivelling forward to focus on the assassin. “At least give me a reason. Word going around is that you’re turning soft. You don’t take jobs because you’ve lost the drive,” the coyote smirked. She paused for a second and lolled her tongue out as if laughing silently. “Or the stomach for it.”
On his back, Li’ drummed his paws against Exshos’ spine in warning. The slmorthi didn’t speak in public for a number of reasons and in the absence of his voice, he was doing everything in his power to convince his companion not to react. It was a pity then that it had no effect. Exshos blinked his own eyes slowly and cocked his head in parody of the coyote. Before she could react, he whipped his tail upwards and forwards, wafting the paper into the air with the movement and stabbing directly through the forehead of the crude image drawn on it.
His tail-blade came to rest just underneath the coyote’s chin, point tapping gently on the thick fur ruff that bristled in helpless fear. The tavern went silent, raucous laughter and bawdy song cut from the air in a heartbeat as the patrons of the inn recoiled in an instinctive terror from an apex predator. Exsohs leaned forward and spoke conversationally, ignoring the eyes and ears trained on his every movement. “I have reasons,” he murmured, “which you don’t need to know.” He flicked his own ears back in warning and the sharp prickle of claws on his spine immediately ceased as Li’ backed down. “Don’t bait me.”
The assassin held his position for a second, then retracted his tail, brushing the blade contemptuously along the coyote’s muzzle to dislodge the paper. He stood and considered the frozen tableau for a moment, eyeing the half-spilled bowl of rotgut ale that he had been nursing and the tattered image of the coyote’s target. It would be folly to stay here. Exshos heaved a silent sigh and picked his way through the gauntlet of hostile eyes to the door.
Outside, the winter sky dripped snowflakes like water from a clogged pipe. The clouds was iron grey and swirling with angry patterns. In his eyes, it suited Exshos’ mood perfectly. He turned north and began trudging through the half-melted snowdrifts towards the main gate. Despite his sojourn in the tavern, the sun had yet to reach the highest point in the sky and there was plenty of time to lose himself in the wilds outside of Snowedinn. There was a cleanliness to be found out there, free and away from other animals and their crushing constraints of expectations. It would be good to just run and hunt and if there was someone stupid enough to attack him while he was out there, then all the better.
It took three hours of aimless wandering through the wilderness before Li’ finally spoke. The slmorthi’s voice was subdued. “You shouldn’t have threatened her,” he muttered.
Exshos snorted. “I threaten everyone. Why should she be different?”
“Because you can do better.” His advisor’s tone was heavy and the words seemed to reach him from a long distance away. “Because she wasn’t a target and with your skills, you could have probably taken her head from her shoulders without a thought.” Li’s weight shifted on his back and Exshos’ step faltered for a second. “You overreacted and you put a blade to her throat when all she did was touch on something that everyone’s been wondering about. Because youdidn’t bother to think.”
The assassin shook his head. “Then I obviously must have thought that everyone should know better.” Exshos jumped forward suddenly, accelerating from a gentle trot to a pounding gallop as if to leave the past behind. He could feel Li’ silent disappointment radiating from his back like a fire against the snow that fell past his shoulders. Even if his slmorthi was right, he would never admit it, not in a thousand years or a hundred million breaths. In the end, the cold and unfeeling end, it was better to be like ice and snow, survive and not think, rather than be like the fire that thought and burnt and caressed and devoured until everything was ashes and dust. He couldn’t change the way he thought. The past was the past and what had been always would be. What he had become, he was. Li’ might think otherwise, but even he knew that even if a single flake of snow became a brand of fire, the winter would still carry on.
Night had closed its curtains over the stage of the world when Exshos walked the dark back-alleys to his home. The bitter cold had driven most of the prey to ground and he returned with nothing but empty claws to show for the day spent in the wilds. Li’ was once again a silent passenger and the assassin’s thoughts had turned morosely inwards towards the past when the grey form launched itself at him from the shadows.
Exshos reacted without thinking. He reared and whirled around, extending his claws for purchase on the icy ground and lashing out with his hooves. Li’ flung himself away, freeing the assassin from his weight and making himself less of a target that he would be forced to protect. The attack had come from the side and even as Exshos’ hooves flashed past the assailant’s head without connecting, he was leaning away from the charge, whirling away in an economy of fluid movement that brought his hindquarters, his claws and most importantly, his tail to bear. The blade whipped around and struck perfectly, sinking a foot-long slash into the creature’s back and opening the flesh until he could see the white of bone.
The coyote slumped to the ground as if she was a puppet with its strings newly cut. In the moonlight, her blood was black as it gushed out and her twitching legs churned the pitch-dark snow into slush. Her jaws opened and closed convulsively, almost as if she were trying to speak. Exshos lowered his tail and shook himself, gradually relaxing until his muscles felt less like tensed wire. Adrenaline thrummed through him and when Li’ crept out of the shadows, he had half-raised his tail again before he recognised his advisor.
“Exshos.” Li’‘s fur bristled and his spines stood straight from his back. “It’s me. Did she hurt-“ A choked voice cut him off midsentence.
“Assas-“ The slmorthi’s head whipped around and he stared at the coyote. It was clear that she didn’t have long, but still she tried to speak. “I tried- tried to find.” Her syllables were thick with pain and barely loud enough to be heard, but her intention was clear. “Find you, not attack. Hire.” Her tail jerked spasmodically and she coughed before forcing her words out again. “Picture. She’s, a … a sla-, slaver. Children.” The paper she had brought to him in the tavern hours before fluttered near her shaking jaws. “Help-“
The rest of her sentence trailed into a bloody gurgle and once again, the night was quiet and still. Li’ paced slowly over to the crude drawing and snatched it up, bringing it back over to Exshos in silence. A beautiful tiger stared out of the ink and smiled at him prettily with a neat hole in her forehead. At the bottom of the page, her paws were dipped in blood.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Much unlike the northern side, the southern side of Snowedinn was orderly, well-lit and clean. Exshos blinked slowly as the final light in the windows of the grand mansion suddenly was snuffed out. His hindquarters had gone numb from long hours in his cramped position underneath a decorative bush and forelegs were hardly any better off. The trailing branches of the bush had been almost the only place in the ridiculously bright area to hide and for a creature of his size, it was difficult to be stealthy where there were no narrow alleyways or convenient rock formations around.
Li’ poked his muzzle out of the bush and tapped Exshos shoulder twice after a long moment. The slmorthi nodded to his companion and melted into the shadows. Although he had argued against it, he would be returning to their home and waiting for Exshos’ arrival. The assassin huffed a silent sigh as his advisor left and unbent his limbs, flattening his ears against the tremors in his muscles and the stiffness in his joints. It had taken him two weeks to memorise the guard rotations, alarm signals, patrol times and all the other little things that made for a perfect infiltration. Every detail had been checked twice over, both by himself and Li’. The tiger’s place was a death-trap disguised as a grand manor and any mistake would probably prove fatal. He wasn’t going to let sore muscles fail him now.
Half a minute after the third patrol rounded the corner, Exshos gathered his legs underneath him and sprinted for the wall on the west side. The tall box he had placed there six days earlier and covered with snow provided a step up from which he launched himself up and over the wall. Crouched in the deep shadows of the corner of the wall, Exshos held his breath as the third patrol crossed the courtyard and started back. The fox turned the opposite corner after the allotted four minutes and the assassin broke in motion, flowing across the edges of the yard and pressing himself into the cover of the sweet smelling ornamental winter trees that lined the outside of the house.
From there, it was a fifteen second sprint around the west wall to the stableyard, the chicken coops and the kitchen door. The guard posted there took thirty seconds to die and surprisingly, the bar over the door took longer to cut away. By the time he had finally smashed through the heavy wood, Exshos was silently cursing. He was behind schedule for the servant’s rotations inside and it was only luck that kept from being discovered when he slipped out of the kitchen.
The night-watchman’s tail had just switched into the far doorway when the assassin crept into the main hall and immediately bolted up the stairs. The leopard’s nose was good and so he would have to act fast. Exshos had taken precautions to smother his scent in the flowery smell of the winter trees outside but it was fading with every passing second. The assassin tore through the mansion until he reached the tiger’s door in the southern wing.
She was sleeping as he entered. Black stripes against stunningly pale cream fur, delicate whiskers and luxuriously furred tail twitching as she dreamt. As beautiful as she was, Exshos simply didn’t care. His tail flashed up and down and the silken sheets flooded with red to pattern the bold stripes of the tiger’s fur. The scent of blood rose in a thick, metallic miasma and below, the leopard’s roaring cough broke the house from its sleep.
Exshos fled. Running downstairs to retrace his path of entry would lead him straight into the leopard and the oncoming guards, so he chose the sliding double doors and the balcony. The glass cut as he smashed through it but his escape route was clear. From the balcony to the roof of the lower house, from the roof to the top of the wall and from the wall to the ground beyond. On the second jump, his hooves caught the top of the wall and for a heart stopping sceond, he began to tip backwards. The next moment, his claws were scrabbling at the stone and he heaved himself over with a strained grunt.
The streets were deserted and he sped north, feeling his heart pounding rapidly in his chest as he ran. Pursuit was far behind him and for a moment, Exshos could feel a strangeness in the air. The tiger might have been a target, but she had meant something to more than one or two people this time. This wasn’t his usual revenge or manipulation contract. This had the air of purpose and intent behind it, directed not at personal gain, but at what? Something the coyote had left unspoken? The slaves that might possibly be freed? The question coiled in his mind like a waking snake until the road ahead of him suddenly dropped away into unpaved dirt.
At the last moment, Exshos jumped and twisted sideways in the air to break his tracks. The odd feeling evaporated and once again, he was running along the melting slush of a back-alley of the north side, fleeing back to his home and the cold satisfaction of a contract completed. Still, something felt slightly, strangely different. At the very back of his mind, Exshos made a note to ask Li’ if spring was coming.
Written By: Sirrin (#86378)
Moving on
It was a sunny and clear day that Exsohs awoke to. His large cat eyes slowly opened and they slid around, taking in his surroundings. It was a common habit of his, to check where he was after waking up. The stallion rose and pulled himself into a short stretch. He had managed to snag a job at the nearest establishment. They didn’t know who they had hired to help, but it was no matter. However, they may do something rash. A small voice whispered in his head. Good. Another one hissed ominously. Exsohs pushed aside the voices and set out at a brisk trot. He had set his past behind him. Although if others would do so easily was a question that had to be raised. Li’ stayed behind, so the stallion was alone in this venture. But if everything went as planned, it would be fine. However, just in case something went horribly wrong, he had managed to convince his friend to stay behind. Although the stallion wouldn’t voice it, he was a bit worried. But it didn’t matter. Exsohs shook his head and kept heading to the town where he had been hired. Along the way, he met a few travelers who wished him well and spoke to him for a bit, unaware of who they were conversing with. However, he was not sure how it would be going when he finally went over the hill.
When he arrived, all seemed to be well. Nobody screamed at the sight of him, nobody made a fuss. Exsohs let out a sigh. A tiny part of him whispered, They’ll be screaming as soon as they know who you really are. Appearances mean nothing. The stallion shoved it away, ears lowering. His job was just chopping down trees to help clear the area a bit, nothing more, nothing less. His employer had told him to meet him by a stream. He was to get rid of the trees on the side closest to the small establishment. He walked to the stream, cautiously taking in his surroundings. A voice behind him made him jump. “So you’re the one helping out, eh? Good tail-blade you’ve got there.” Exsohs turned to the other and nodded quietly. “You can start over there.” His employer pointed with her horns. The stallion trotted over and held his tail blade and swung once, brute force nearly sending it cleaving through the thin tree. This type of work was unpopular, as it dulled a tail-blade, but it could easily be fixed with a good smooth stone. The employer nodded and she said to him, “The name’s Sheux.” Exsohs nodded without replying. He went back to chopping, unknowingly using his old assassin’s technique. Sheux paused in her own work to watch him, eyes narrowed.
“Say, lad. What’s your name?” Her voice was raised in a strange tone. Her tail-blade was held in a semi-defensive position. Exsohs turned slowly, noting her posture and expressions. His eyes narrowed and he dropped into a defensive position. “Exsohs.” He said, watching her. At the name, Sheux’s eyes narrowed into slits and she snarled, “Get out of here, now.” The stallion’s ears lowered, feeling regret and also a bit of anger that one would kick him out, just like that. He slowly turned and then dashed away, biting his lip. His tail swung about in frustration, slamming against trees as he went.
When he had traveled for a bit, he sat next to a stream and sighed, a mixture of emotions boiling inside him. He had settled next to a good rock for sharpening his tail-blade, so he began rhythmically and diligently scraping it against the rock, listening to the soft squeal that emitted from the rock. Eventually, he gazed down into the stream as he scraped along, watching his reflection. His eyes glinted back at him in the sunlight, giving them a shining appearance. Exsohs tilted his head back and forth, gazing into his eyes. He could do this. The stallion grimaced, pulling himself back together. He would go into the next area and attempt to find work, and maybe this time it would work out.
Exsohs rose up and began loping along to where he knew the next establishment was. He hit the ground, feeling the impact of his footsteps rumble along. The feeling was liberating, knowing that he was the reason that the ground trembled. His tail blade was held high, a symbol of pride for himself. It swung back and forth, dangling right above his spine. He wouldn’t let them bring him down. His head swayed around and at the sight of the stream that he had just psyched himself up at, he suddenly fell apart inside. “I can’t do this, what am I thinking? Only ‘Li truly knows me.” He twisted his mouth in a smirk, feeling desolate. He flopped down on his stomach, tired. His nose twitched slightly before falling still when he began to move. The stallion rolled onto his back, gazing up at the pink and blue twilight. Dusk had just begun to settle in, so there was still time for another job if he could bring himself to do it. Just do one more job. Then you can go back to ‘Li. With that thought in mind, Exsohs pulled himself up and kept walking towards his destination.
When he could smell the scents of others, and could just hear voices, he picked up the pace, nervous. When he arrived, there was work going on everywhere around him. It appeared that this place was just beginning, and needed lots of help. When a big stallion came by him, Exsohs muttered, “Um..” At that, the other stallion turned and spoke roughly, “Well c’mon! Don’t just stand there kiddo! Come help! You’ll be given compensation.” Exsohs’ mouth opened and closed like a fish for a few seconds, then dipped his horned head and eagerly went to work with the other male. The other introduced himself as simply Ty, and he was an older stallion with incredibly long horns. Their work was the same as last time, chopping trees. Ty made small talk with Exsohs as they chopped away, until he asked one question that made him freeze. “So son, what’s ya name?” Exsohs glanced away, hearing his neck crack slightly at the motion. “Exsohs.” He said firmly, not letting his emotions get the best of him. Looking back to Ty, he saw a spark of recognition in the other’s eyes. He braced himself for the words that would certainly soon be fired at him. “Alright.” The older stallion simply said, and went back to work. Exsohs stared at him, feeling confusion roil inside of him. “D-d-did you hear me? Do you know who I am?...or was?” Ty kept chopping, while responding with a simple, “Indeed.”
Surprise coursed through Exsohs, intertwining with confusion and the tiniest bit of hope in his heart. “So… it’s ok? Who I am?” He asked cautiously, tilting his head. “Only if you get back to work.” Chuffed Ty giving him an amused look. “I don’t judge by the past, I judge by the present. You’re a good kid with a life ahead of ya. I can tell. No need to dwell on what has happened. Besides, I heard the rumors that you had quit. As long as you’re not going for my head, it’s all good.” Exsohs felt a rising tide of emotions swell up inside him and he bit his lip, breathing out slowly through his nostrils. “That’s… good.” He replied quietly, continuing his work as instructed. For once, the purple stallion felt… content. Exsohs wished that ‘Li was here for the incredible moment that he wished would last forever. Someone had accepted him for who he currently was, not who he was in the past.
It was over all too quickly, with it ending with Ty wishing him luck and telling him he’d love to have him work for him again. Exsohs padded away, tail swishing from side to side, feeling satisfied. He was tired from a day's work and was ready to be reunited with ‘Li. He then pushed himself into a quick lope, ready to sleep and tell ‘Li everything about today. When he emerged into the cave, he saw ‘Li already sleeping. Exsohs smiled slightly, watching him for a few seconds before going over to his nest and curling up, laying his now-dull tail-blade in front of him so he could admire it. I’ll have to fix that up tomorrow while I tell ‘Li everything that happened. The stallion smiled softly to himself before opening his mouth in a wide yawn, swishing his tail back around to its sleeping position, before closing his eyes, and drifting off into a dreamless and restful sleep, the first in a while. And just before he slept, he could have sworn he felt someone else, someone the size of ‘Li come huddle up next to him and sleep with him through the night.
Written by: Finnian (#)
It was a sunny and clear day that Exsohs awoke to. His large cat eyes slowly opened and they slid around, taking in his surroundings. It was a common habit of his, to check where he was after waking up. The stallion rose and pulled himself into a short stretch. He had managed to snag a job at the nearest establishment. They didn’t know who they had hired to help, but it was no matter. However, they may do something rash. A small voice whispered in his head. Good. Another one hissed ominously. Exsohs pushed aside the voices and set out at a brisk trot. He had set his past behind him. Although if others would do so easily was a question that had to be raised. Li’ stayed behind, so the stallion was alone in this venture. But if everything went as planned, it would be fine. However, just in case something went horribly wrong, he had managed to convince his friend to stay behind. Although the stallion wouldn’t voice it, he was a bit worried. But it didn’t matter. Exsohs shook his head and kept heading to the town where he had been hired. Along the way, he met a few travelers who wished him well and spoke to him for a bit, unaware of who they were conversing with. However, he was not sure how it would be going when he finally went over the hill.
When he arrived, all seemed to be well. Nobody screamed at the sight of him, nobody made a fuss. Exsohs let out a sigh. A tiny part of him whispered, They’ll be screaming as soon as they know who you really are. Appearances mean nothing. The stallion shoved it away, ears lowering. His job was just chopping down trees to help clear the area a bit, nothing more, nothing less. His employer had told him to meet him by a stream. He was to get rid of the trees on the side closest to the small establishment. He walked to the stream, cautiously taking in his surroundings. A voice behind him made him jump. “So you’re the one helping out, eh? Good tail-blade you’ve got there.” Exsohs turned to the other and nodded quietly. “You can start over there.” His employer pointed with her horns. The stallion trotted over and held his tail blade and swung once, brute force nearly sending it cleaving through the thin tree. This type of work was unpopular, as it dulled a tail-blade, but it could easily be fixed with a good smooth stone. The employer nodded and she said to him, “The name’s Sheux.” Exsohs nodded without replying. He went back to chopping, unknowingly using his old assassin’s technique. Sheux paused in her own work to watch him, eyes narrowed.
“Say, lad. What’s your name?” Her voice was raised in a strange tone. Her tail-blade was held in a semi-defensive position. Exsohs turned slowly, noting her posture and expressions. His eyes narrowed and he dropped into a defensive position. “Exsohs.” He said, watching her. At the name, Sheux’s eyes narrowed into slits and she snarled, “Get out of here, now.” The stallion’s ears lowered, feeling regret and also a bit of anger that one would kick him out, just like that. He slowly turned and then dashed away, biting his lip. His tail swung about in frustration, slamming against trees as he went.
When he had traveled for a bit, he sat next to a stream and sighed, a mixture of emotions boiling inside him. He had settled next to a good rock for sharpening his tail-blade, so he began rhythmically and diligently scraping it against the rock, listening to the soft squeal that emitted from the rock. Eventually, he gazed down into the stream as he scraped along, watching his reflection. His eyes glinted back at him in the sunlight, giving them a shining appearance. Exsohs tilted his head back and forth, gazing into his eyes. He could do this. The stallion grimaced, pulling himself back together. He would go into the next area and attempt to find work, and maybe this time it would work out.
Exsohs rose up and began loping along to where he knew the next establishment was. He hit the ground, feeling the impact of his footsteps rumble along. The feeling was liberating, knowing that he was the reason that the ground trembled. His tail blade was held high, a symbol of pride for himself. It swung back and forth, dangling right above his spine. He wouldn’t let them bring him down. His head swayed around and at the sight of the stream that he had just psyched himself up at, he suddenly fell apart inside. “I can’t do this, what am I thinking? Only ‘Li truly knows me.” He twisted his mouth in a smirk, feeling desolate. He flopped down on his stomach, tired. His nose twitched slightly before falling still when he began to move. The stallion rolled onto his back, gazing up at the pink and blue twilight. Dusk had just begun to settle in, so there was still time for another job if he could bring himself to do it. Just do one more job. Then you can go back to ‘Li. With that thought in mind, Exsohs pulled himself up and kept walking towards his destination.
When he could smell the scents of others, and could just hear voices, he picked up the pace, nervous. When he arrived, there was work going on everywhere around him. It appeared that this place was just beginning, and needed lots of help. When a big stallion came by him, Exsohs muttered, “Um..” At that, the other stallion turned and spoke roughly, “Well c’mon! Don’t just stand there kiddo! Come help! You’ll be given compensation.” Exsohs’ mouth opened and closed like a fish for a few seconds, then dipped his horned head and eagerly went to work with the other male. The other introduced himself as simply Ty, and he was an older stallion with incredibly long horns. Their work was the same as last time, chopping trees. Ty made small talk with Exsohs as they chopped away, until he asked one question that made him freeze. “So son, what’s ya name?” Exsohs glanced away, hearing his neck crack slightly at the motion. “Exsohs.” He said firmly, not letting his emotions get the best of him. Looking back to Ty, he saw a spark of recognition in the other’s eyes. He braced himself for the words that would certainly soon be fired at him. “Alright.” The older stallion simply said, and went back to work. Exsohs stared at him, feeling confusion roil inside of him. “D-d-did you hear me? Do you know who I am?...or was?” Ty kept chopping, while responding with a simple, “Indeed.”
Surprise coursed through Exsohs, intertwining with confusion and the tiniest bit of hope in his heart. “So… it’s ok? Who I am?” He asked cautiously, tilting his head. “Only if you get back to work.” Chuffed Ty giving him an amused look. “I don’t judge by the past, I judge by the present. You’re a good kid with a life ahead of ya. I can tell. No need to dwell on what has happened. Besides, I heard the rumors that you had quit. As long as you’re not going for my head, it’s all good.” Exsohs felt a rising tide of emotions swell up inside him and he bit his lip, breathing out slowly through his nostrils. “That’s… good.” He replied quietly, continuing his work as instructed. For once, the purple stallion felt… content. Exsohs wished that ‘Li was here for the incredible moment that he wished would last forever. Someone had accepted him for who he currently was, not who he was in the past.
It was over all too quickly, with it ending with Ty wishing him luck and telling him he’d love to have him work for him again. Exsohs padded away, tail swishing from side to side, feeling satisfied. He was tired from a day's work and was ready to be reunited with ‘Li. He then pushed himself into a quick lope, ready to sleep and tell ‘Li everything about today. When he emerged into the cave, he saw ‘Li already sleeping. Exsohs smiled slightly, watching him for a few seconds before going over to his nest and curling up, laying his now-dull tail-blade in front of him so he could admire it. I’ll have to fix that up tomorrow while I tell ‘Li everything that happened. The stallion smiled softly to himself before opening his mouth in a wide yawn, swishing his tail back around to its sleeping position, before closing his eyes, and drifting off into a dreamless and restful sleep, the first in a while. And just before he slept, he could have sworn he felt someone else, someone the size of ‘Li come huddle up next to him and sleep with him through the night.
Written by: Finnian (#)
First Flight
* note Nox & Lux are Pestilence and Famine respectively
The branch swayed and bobbed beneath Lux’s oversized paws, and she felt her stomach briefly drop in fear as the ground loomed below her and the wind continued to test her balance. Nox’s small, dark form peered up at her, face twisted in fear. Nox was always worrying about her. What did she expect her to do, not learn how to fly?
“Lux! That’s too high!” Nox called up to her, but Lux pretended not to hear. She was tired of watching Nox take to the skies when they needed to scout ahead, leaving her behind watching sullenly. Her wings were just as useful as Nox’s; there was no reason why she shouldn’t be able to fly, too.
“But Lux, you’re not old enough yet,” Nox had insisted, but Lux had stood her ground.
“You said you learned to fly when you were a year!” The retort had come out sharp and accusatory, and Nox’s lips had peeled back almost involuntarily to reveal her fangs before she composed herself.
“My wings were bigger than yours when I was your age. It was different.”
Lux had compared their wings with narrowed eyes, not seeing much of a difference. Her wings had always grown faster than her body could keep up, and although she looked awkward, she knew she wouldn’t have any trouble keeping herself aloft. If only she could try.
It was a weak excuse and Nox knew it. She glanced away, unable to meet her sister’s gaze, and Lux saw her opportunity.
“I’m tired of being defenseless and slowing you down. We could go so many places, find a home…” Lux’s voice trailed off, and she looked at her sister pleadingly. “Please Nox? I promise I’ll be careful.”
Her sister looked at her for a long while, lost in her own thoughts, and finally sighed.“All right. But you’re going to start low.”
To be fair, Lux had started low. She just hadn’t stayed low.
Now, an hour later here she was, perched on one of the highest branches of a nearby tree.
“Lux!” Nox yowled, but the wind quickly carried her voice away and Lux instead focused on the task at hand. Her claws bit deep into the branch, helping her keep her balance. Her wings were extended a few feet and ready to shove the air away and launch her into the sky at her command. Her eyes and ears were watchful and highly alert.
It was time.
Crouching low so as not to be thrown back, she extended her feathers to their full length and kept them level, careful not to let the wind catch them. Then she angled them back and up, brought them high above her head, and launched herself forward with a strong push of her hind end.
Lux didn’t expect to be thrown to the side as the wind caught her just right, shoving her at an angle that rendered her unable to control her wings. They felt oddly discombobulated and refused to work as a pair. Instead, one was thrown upward and the other was pulled down, causing her to spiral alarmingly.
Nox was running underneath, shouting anxiously. “Pull your other wing down and angle yourself to the ground! You need to get them flapping at the same time but you can’t do that if they are going different directions!”
Easier said than done! Lux wanted to holler back, but the words stuck in her throat as she continued to spiral and the ground came ever-nearer.
“Angle down!” Nox shrieked, and Lux panicked briefly as she realized that doing so would cause her to crash towards the ground even more quickly. But she was running out of options, and her sister should know what she was talking about, right? I hope you know what you’re talking about, Nox, she told her sister silently, and shoved her weight down with all her might. Suddenly she felt weightless as she speared through the air, gaining momentum as she dropped farther and farther. Her eyes were streaming and the wind roared in her ears, but she heard Nox faintly say:
“Throw your wings out at the same time and let them pull you up! Now Lux, now!” With each word Lux could hear her sister more clearly, and knew she was running out of time. She held her breath as she flung both wings out, and felt them wrench painfully as the wind caught them.
But now she was teetering in the air, held up by the wind for a few precious seconds as she gathered her wits.
“Now pull them down at the same time, and use your full wing range!”
Still not entirely confident of what she was doing, Lux listened to her sister without even pausing to think; and then, like magic, she was shooting upwards.
Lux almost forgot to flap another time she was so surprised. But she did, and then flapped a third time. Now she was gaining altitude, and she could feel her wings thrumming with energy as they worked in unison. Another flap, and she tipped herself down again, but threw her wings to the side and let the air buoy her as she leveled out into a glide.
For the first time, she was able to see what the landscape was like from the air. The countryside rolled out in front of her and the sun shone on the land like she’d never seen it before. The air was thin up here, but her body didn’t mind it; she was built to fly, after all. The sun beat down on her feathers warming them pleasantly, while the air rippled through her fur and kept her cool. It was the most thrilling thing she had ever experienced in her young life.
A joyous caterwaul interrupted her reverie, and she glanced down to see Nox leaping up to join her. Her sister was by her side in moments, lips peeled back in a toothy grin. “You did it!” she laughed, all trace of anxiety wiped from her face in the lieu of Lux’s success. “How does it feel?”
“It feels…” Lux paused as she flapped once again, soaring over a nearby glade of trees. She looked beside her several feet away where Nox maneuvered expertly, sun glinting off of her dark feathers and causing them to shine a lovely blue-black. A smile graced her muzzle as she looked at Lux expectantly. Lux couldn’t help but smile back before turning her face into the wind and closing her eyes. The warmth, the thrill, her newfound freedom with her sister by her side...it felt like--
“Home.”
Written by: Unknown
* note Nox & Lux are Pestilence and Famine respectively
The branch swayed and bobbed beneath Lux’s oversized paws, and she felt her stomach briefly drop in fear as the ground loomed below her and the wind continued to test her balance. Nox’s small, dark form peered up at her, face twisted in fear. Nox was always worrying about her. What did she expect her to do, not learn how to fly?
“Lux! That’s too high!” Nox called up to her, but Lux pretended not to hear. She was tired of watching Nox take to the skies when they needed to scout ahead, leaving her behind watching sullenly. Her wings were just as useful as Nox’s; there was no reason why she shouldn’t be able to fly, too.
“But Lux, you’re not old enough yet,” Nox had insisted, but Lux had stood her ground.
“You said you learned to fly when you were a year!” The retort had come out sharp and accusatory, and Nox’s lips had peeled back almost involuntarily to reveal her fangs before she composed herself.
“My wings were bigger than yours when I was your age. It was different.”
Lux had compared their wings with narrowed eyes, not seeing much of a difference. Her wings had always grown faster than her body could keep up, and although she looked awkward, she knew she wouldn’t have any trouble keeping herself aloft. If only she could try.
It was a weak excuse and Nox knew it. She glanced away, unable to meet her sister’s gaze, and Lux saw her opportunity.
“I’m tired of being defenseless and slowing you down. We could go so many places, find a home…” Lux’s voice trailed off, and she looked at her sister pleadingly. “Please Nox? I promise I’ll be careful.”
Her sister looked at her for a long while, lost in her own thoughts, and finally sighed.“All right. But you’re going to start low.”
To be fair, Lux had started low. She just hadn’t stayed low.
Now, an hour later here she was, perched on one of the highest branches of a nearby tree.
“Lux!” Nox yowled, but the wind quickly carried her voice away and Lux instead focused on the task at hand. Her claws bit deep into the branch, helping her keep her balance. Her wings were extended a few feet and ready to shove the air away and launch her into the sky at her command. Her eyes and ears were watchful and highly alert.
It was time.
Crouching low so as not to be thrown back, she extended her feathers to their full length and kept them level, careful not to let the wind catch them. Then she angled them back and up, brought them high above her head, and launched herself forward with a strong push of her hind end.
Lux didn’t expect to be thrown to the side as the wind caught her just right, shoving her at an angle that rendered her unable to control her wings. They felt oddly discombobulated and refused to work as a pair. Instead, one was thrown upward and the other was pulled down, causing her to spiral alarmingly.
Nox was running underneath, shouting anxiously. “Pull your other wing down and angle yourself to the ground! You need to get them flapping at the same time but you can’t do that if they are going different directions!”
Easier said than done! Lux wanted to holler back, but the words stuck in her throat as she continued to spiral and the ground came ever-nearer.
“Angle down!” Nox shrieked, and Lux panicked briefly as she realized that doing so would cause her to crash towards the ground even more quickly. But she was running out of options, and her sister should know what she was talking about, right? I hope you know what you’re talking about, Nox, she told her sister silently, and shoved her weight down with all her might. Suddenly she felt weightless as she speared through the air, gaining momentum as she dropped farther and farther. Her eyes were streaming and the wind roared in her ears, but she heard Nox faintly say:
“Throw your wings out at the same time and let them pull you up! Now Lux, now!” With each word Lux could hear her sister more clearly, and knew she was running out of time. She held her breath as she flung both wings out, and felt them wrench painfully as the wind caught them.
But now she was teetering in the air, held up by the wind for a few precious seconds as she gathered her wits.
“Now pull them down at the same time, and use your full wing range!”
Still not entirely confident of what she was doing, Lux listened to her sister without even pausing to think; and then, like magic, she was shooting upwards.
Lux almost forgot to flap another time she was so surprised. But she did, and then flapped a third time. Now she was gaining altitude, and she could feel her wings thrumming with energy as they worked in unison. Another flap, and she tipped herself down again, but threw her wings to the side and let the air buoy her as she leveled out into a glide.
For the first time, she was able to see what the landscape was like from the air. The countryside rolled out in front of her and the sun shone on the land like she’d never seen it before. The air was thin up here, but her body didn’t mind it; she was built to fly, after all. The sun beat down on her feathers warming them pleasantly, while the air rippled through her fur and kept her cool. It was the most thrilling thing she had ever experienced in her young life.
A joyous caterwaul interrupted her reverie, and she glanced down to see Nox leaping up to join her. Her sister was by her side in moments, lips peeled back in a toothy grin. “You did it!” she laughed, all trace of anxiety wiped from her face in the lieu of Lux’s success. “How does it feel?”
“It feels…” Lux paused as she flapped once again, soaring over a nearby glade of trees. She looked beside her several feet away where Nox maneuvered expertly, sun glinting off of her dark feathers and causing them to shine a lovely blue-black. A smile graced her muzzle as she looked at Lux expectantly. Lux couldn’t help but smile back before turning her face into the wind and closing her eyes. The warmth, the thrill, her newfound freedom with her sister by her side...it felt like--
“Home.”
Written by: Unknown
None will Notice
Nyra’s claws scrabble along the rocks on the side of the cliff as she skids down its face for the fifth time. She lands at the bottom, squinting angrily up at the top and trying to look past the sun that glares into her face as if to make a point: even the elements are against her reaching the top of this annoying wall of rock.
Nyra would fly up, but she’s too young and her wings aren’t able to support her weight yet. At least, that’s what everyone says; Nyra thinks they’re just taking the nice way around telling her she isn’t good enough to fly yet. Not enough practice, or something. That’s always their excuse, but at least they’re not insulting her to her face.
She spreads her wings and gives them an experimental flap, and then another. The motion doesn’t feel quite right, so she stops and gives the cliff another try. I’ll figure out flying later. Too complicated.
A few minutes later, Nyra has made it past where she got stuck last time, about halfway up the cliff. She takes a few breaths and reaches for another rock, freezing when she hears a voice. “No, not that rock, it’s loose.” Nyra looks around for the source of the voice and spots an old carrion-eater staring up at her with beady red eyes. “See, it’ll dislodge as soon as you touch it.”
Nyra spares another glance towards the rock. While she thinks it could probably hold her weight, she trusts the aged bird to know more than she does about this type of thing. She shifts her claws towards another rock. The vulture flaps up to the top of the cliff. “There’s a rock on your left that sticks out. Try that one.”
Nyra gives the bird a curious glance but follows its advice. “Ah, this one?” She nods her beak towards it. The rock does look like an ideal clawhold; it’s certainly more useful than the small dents she’s been clinging to for the past while.
“Yes, duh,” the vulture snaps. “Don’t you want to get to the top of this wall?”
“What else would I be doing?” Nyra says under her breath and grabs the rock. At first nothing happens, but then the rock slips. Nyra gasps but the damage is already done; the rock tumbles out of the wall, tipping her backwards. She tumbles off the wall and is airborne for a few seconds; it’s enough time to right herself and spread her wings so the impact on the ground isn’t as hard, but the landing still knocks the wind out of her.
“Hey!” she yells up at the vulture. “Why did you do that?”
“Do you know what a carrion-eater is?” the vulture replies boredly. “I’d rather let the fall do the job than try to kill you myself. I figured I could do with some healthier prey for once.” It doesn’t act like it has just offended and injured someone; on the other hand, it seems to think it’s the one who has been wronged.
Nyra glares at the vulture. “If I was up there right now, you would be sorry!”
The vulture rolls its eyes, hiding its amusement at coming across a young, insolent griffin who dares even attempt to challenge it. “Nah, I wouldn’t. You can’t even fly. Don’t act tough.”
Nyra makes an enraged sound that’s a mix between a growl and a squeak, opening her beak to make a comeback. “You... you!”
“D’aww. How cute. Now she’s stuttering at me.” The vulture spreads its wings and flaps a few feet into the air. “Well, I gotta fly.”
“Cute? I am not cute,” she says furiously. “And I am certainly not going to stand for being insulted by the dumb bird that just tried to kill me!”
The vulture eyes Nyra. “Hm? Oh, I didn’t try to kill you. I gave you advice, advice that if you were smart enough to think through, would have actually made you realize that I am not your friend. Go cry me a river, hon.”
Nyra glares at the vulture and spreads her wings. “I hope you drown in it.” She attempts to mimick the vulture’s flight pattern and succeeds in hovering several inches from the ground.
“Oh, look, I taught you something!” the vulture says, noticing how closely Nyra is watching it. “See, now wasn’t this worthwhile?” It seems to have realized that its only advantage is now slowly disappearing. “Now I seriously gotta go. You’re making me late.” A few flaps of its wings and it’s gone from sight.
“Yeah, yeah, you must have a very important appointment to attend, don’t you?” Nyra says scathingly. She drops down to the ground, tucking her wings neatly onto her back. The relief is instantaneous; she didn’t realize just how difficult it was to stay aloft. She sits down and shrinks into herself, finally realizing just what happened. Someone just tried to kill me! To kill me!
Nyra glares around her, almost fully expecting some hidden assassin to ambush her. She turns away from the wall and returns to the slums of Nwan, feeling unsafe so far from the town. It’s not like Nwan is actually considered safe, but the feeling of familiarity that surrounds it is more appealling than this darkened forested area that suddenly seems to contain hidden eyes and teeth everywhere.
I need to get out, Nyra realizes. She can’t stand staying here; she paces, stomps her feet, and feels more unsafe than she has ever felt. I almost died, I need to get out! She turns towards the familiar slums where she lives and starts walking. Only a few steps in, she starts running.
The journey back to Nwan goes faster than normal, or maybe it’s just that a near-death experience with a murderous bird makes you want to sprint away from wherever the incident took place as fast as possible. Either way, the trek doesn’t take long at all. Nyra hurries down the streets, casting suspicious looks towards everyone who looks her way. In the low light everyone seems dangerous and evil, and Nyra doesn’t want to spend too long in the open.
Only once Nyra is surrounded by her scrolls and ink does she feel safe. She glances towards her mother’s room where sounds of muffled coughing can be heard. The noises stop for a few seconds, long enough for Nyra to hear just how ragged her mother’s breathing is. She twitches her wings back anxiously and glares at the shadows, fluffing up her feathers. She hates the sickness that has wreaked havoc on her mother’s body; she knows that the only one housing her will soon be gone.
Nyra sighs and curls up next to her scrolls. Why did it take me this long? Not everyone should be trusted. That old carrion-eater was right. I should have considered its advice before I took it. Her eyes flicker nervously around the room until they land on the door leading to her mother’s room. “You won’t be here forever,” she whispers. “I should toughen up before you’re gone.”
Nyra stands, flicks her wings out, and sheds her emotions like scales, burying them deep inside her. She knows how the illness works; it took the king’s own wife, so it can take a common nobody just as easily. Just until I can make a living. I won’t have to do this forever. She doesn’t believe her own thoughts, but there isn’t much that she can do. I’ll get money from this. I’ll live. I can change my life for the better. Her resolve hardens. Nyra knows she doesn’t have time. She’s never had much of anything, in fact.
She finds herself evaluating everyone she sees. Do they know what I’m going to do? she thinks. No. They’re all prey. I’m the vulture, and they’re the little griffin trying to climb the wall. It’s almost funny, using herself as an example for stupidity. But it helps, somehow. That was when Nyra didn’t care, when she didn’t almost die. When she thought everyone was helpful and friendly.
Well. Not anymore.
It’s easy stealing from someone who doesn’t care. Nyra learns this almost at once when she takes a loaf of bread from a baker’s shop and walks out the door without even being noticed. She tears into it hungrily; it’s going to be a long night if Nyra wants to take control of her life and fix it. They won’t even notice it’s gone.
A few berries, a handful of leaves. They won’t even notice it.
The coughing in her mother’s room has stopped. They won’t even notice.
So has the breathing. They won’t notice.
They won’t. And I won’t either.
Written by: Entity404 (#107570)
Nyra’s claws scrabble along the rocks on the side of the cliff as she skids down its face for the fifth time. She lands at the bottom, squinting angrily up at the top and trying to look past the sun that glares into her face as if to make a point: even the elements are against her reaching the top of this annoying wall of rock.
Nyra would fly up, but she’s too young and her wings aren’t able to support her weight yet. At least, that’s what everyone says; Nyra thinks they’re just taking the nice way around telling her she isn’t good enough to fly yet. Not enough practice, or something. That’s always their excuse, but at least they’re not insulting her to her face.
She spreads her wings and gives them an experimental flap, and then another. The motion doesn’t feel quite right, so she stops and gives the cliff another try. I’ll figure out flying later. Too complicated.
A few minutes later, Nyra has made it past where she got stuck last time, about halfway up the cliff. She takes a few breaths and reaches for another rock, freezing when she hears a voice. “No, not that rock, it’s loose.” Nyra looks around for the source of the voice and spots an old carrion-eater staring up at her with beady red eyes. “See, it’ll dislodge as soon as you touch it.”
Nyra spares another glance towards the rock. While she thinks it could probably hold her weight, she trusts the aged bird to know more than she does about this type of thing. She shifts her claws towards another rock. The vulture flaps up to the top of the cliff. “There’s a rock on your left that sticks out. Try that one.”
Nyra gives the bird a curious glance but follows its advice. “Ah, this one?” She nods her beak towards it. The rock does look like an ideal clawhold; it’s certainly more useful than the small dents she’s been clinging to for the past while.
“Yes, duh,” the vulture snaps. “Don’t you want to get to the top of this wall?”
“What else would I be doing?” Nyra says under her breath and grabs the rock. At first nothing happens, but then the rock slips. Nyra gasps but the damage is already done; the rock tumbles out of the wall, tipping her backwards. She tumbles off the wall and is airborne for a few seconds; it’s enough time to right herself and spread her wings so the impact on the ground isn’t as hard, but the landing still knocks the wind out of her.
“Hey!” she yells up at the vulture. “Why did you do that?”
“Do you know what a carrion-eater is?” the vulture replies boredly. “I’d rather let the fall do the job than try to kill you myself. I figured I could do with some healthier prey for once.” It doesn’t act like it has just offended and injured someone; on the other hand, it seems to think it’s the one who has been wronged.
Nyra glares at the vulture. “If I was up there right now, you would be sorry!”
The vulture rolls its eyes, hiding its amusement at coming across a young, insolent griffin who dares even attempt to challenge it. “Nah, I wouldn’t. You can’t even fly. Don’t act tough.”
Nyra makes an enraged sound that’s a mix between a growl and a squeak, opening her beak to make a comeback. “You... you!”
“D’aww. How cute. Now she’s stuttering at me.” The vulture spreads its wings and flaps a few feet into the air. “Well, I gotta fly.”
“Cute? I am not cute,” she says furiously. “And I am certainly not going to stand for being insulted by the dumb bird that just tried to kill me!”
The vulture eyes Nyra. “Hm? Oh, I didn’t try to kill you. I gave you advice, advice that if you were smart enough to think through, would have actually made you realize that I am not your friend. Go cry me a river, hon.”
Nyra glares at the vulture and spreads her wings. “I hope you drown in it.” She attempts to mimick the vulture’s flight pattern and succeeds in hovering several inches from the ground.
“Oh, look, I taught you something!” the vulture says, noticing how closely Nyra is watching it. “See, now wasn’t this worthwhile?” It seems to have realized that its only advantage is now slowly disappearing. “Now I seriously gotta go. You’re making me late.” A few flaps of its wings and it’s gone from sight.
“Yeah, yeah, you must have a very important appointment to attend, don’t you?” Nyra says scathingly. She drops down to the ground, tucking her wings neatly onto her back. The relief is instantaneous; she didn’t realize just how difficult it was to stay aloft. She sits down and shrinks into herself, finally realizing just what happened. Someone just tried to kill me! To kill me!
Nyra glares around her, almost fully expecting some hidden assassin to ambush her. She turns away from the wall and returns to the slums of Nwan, feeling unsafe so far from the town. It’s not like Nwan is actually considered safe, but the feeling of familiarity that surrounds it is more appealling than this darkened forested area that suddenly seems to contain hidden eyes and teeth everywhere.
I need to get out, Nyra realizes. She can’t stand staying here; she paces, stomps her feet, and feels more unsafe than she has ever felt. I almost died, I need to get out! She turns towards the familiar slums where she lives and starts walking. Only a few steps in, she starts running.
The journey back to Nwan goes faster than normal, or maybe it’s just that a near-death experience with a murderous bird makes you want to sprint away from wherever the incident took place as fast as possible. Either way, the trek doesn’t take long at all. Nyra hurries down the streets, casting suspicious looks towards everyone who looks her way. In the low light everyone seems dangerous and evil, and Nyra doesn’t want to spend too long in the open.
Only once Nyra is surrounded by her scrolls and ink does she feel safe. She glances towards her mother’s room where sounds of muffled coughing can be heard. The noises stop for a few seconds, long enough for Nyra to hear just how ragged her mother’s breathing is. She twitches her wings back anxiously and glares at the shadows, fluffing up her feathers. She hates the sickness that has wreaked havoc on her mother’s body; she knows that the only one housing her will soon be gone.
Nyra sighs and curls up next to her scrolls. Why did it take me this long? Not everyone should be trusted. That old carrion-eater was right. I should have considered its advice before I took it. Her eyes flicker nervously around the room until they land on the door leading to her mother’s room. “You won’t be here forever,” she whispers. “I should toughen up before you’re gone.”
Nyra stands, flicks her wings out, and sheds her emotions like scales, burying them deep inside her. She knows how the illness works; it took the king’s own wife, so it can take a common nobody just as easily. Just until I can make a living. I won’t have to do this forever. She doesn’t believe her own thoughts, but there isn’t much that she can do. I’ll get money from this. I’ll live. I can change my life for the better. Her resolve hardens. Nyra knows she doesn’t have time. She’s never had much of anything, in fact.
She finds herself evaluating everyone she sees. Do they know what I’m going to do? she thinks. No. They’re all prey. I’m the vulture, and they’re the little griffin trying to climb the wall. It’s almost funny, using herself as an example for stupidity. But it helps, somehow. That was when Nyra didn’t care, when she didn’t almost die. When she thought everyone was helpful and friendly.
Well. Not anymore.
It’s easy stealing from someone who doesn’t care. Nyra learns this almost at once when she takes a loaf of bread from a baker’s shop and walks out the door without even being noticed. She tears into it hungrily; it’s going to be a long night if Nyra wants to take control of her life and fix it. They won’t even notice it’s gone.
A few berries, a handful of leaves. They won’t even notice it.
The coughing in her mother’s room has stopped. They won’t even notice.
So has the breathing. They won’t notice.
They won’t. And I won’t either.
Written by: Entity404 (#107570)
Patience and Pestilence
The sound of heavy paws on stone was the only thing Pestilence could hear in the damp, muffled lower chambers of the guard outpost she was stowed away in, but it was more than enough to make her fur bristle.
Her tail wrapped itself around her leg as she lay tensely between a dusty crate carrying a dulled scent of metal from within and the cold wall. She loathed being so confined. Her wings were pressed uncomfortably to her sides, and she couldn’t see the source of the pawsteps when she was tucked away in a corner. She wizened herself to have a word with Apocalypse when everything was through. She couldn’t work like this.
A low growl wrenched her from her thoughts, snapping her focus back to the task at claw.
“Curse the stars,” A gruff voice swore from a place she couldn’t quite see, and the heave and squeal of wood against stone grated her attuned ears, and she found herself pinning them to her head.
Bear, certainly.
She willed herself to be still, to be but a shadow, but the curiosity of a cat drove her to take a padded, silent step forward to try and gauge the situation. A black bear with riddled scars running snaking tunnels through his fur was slowly pulling the crate next to her hiding place from the wall. She sucked in a short breath instinctively, not daring to retreat or even let herself breathe in fears the movement would find herself killed.
After a long, lung searing moment, the guard managed to pull the crate to where he desired it.
“...Great Udrar, one would think Odrasil would have it I never got a moment’s respite,” The old bear grumbled under his breath as his beady eyes sought out where he was meant to move it to.
Pestilence was a bristled ball of black fur and feathers as she listened to the scrape of the crate being moved to another place. She could only assume her crate would be next.
Her tail twitched as her muscles coiled in preparation to spring upon the larger beast as the thud, thud, thud of heavy steps approached. He was close enough for Pestilence to hear his breathe and see the little clouds as they dissipated. Her claws made barely a whisper as she unsheathed them, and she was about to use them when a blood curdling scream shattered the near silence.
The guard whipped his head around as he started, but Pestilence was prepared.
That’s why she was here, after all.
He didn’t notice her as she slid free of her hiding place, her silky fur silencing her movements as she strode with newfound confidence now that the attack was underway. Her jaws were powerful vices, and not even the hide of a bear could stop her fangs from snapping shut, sinking into his vulnerable throat gruesomely.
It was over before it had even started, and her wings unfurled as she stretched them in the cramped space of the room. She left the guard to choke on his own blood as she whirled into the stairwell. The body of a slain wolverine lay on the steps, and she folded her wings as she leapt over it without so much as a hint of hesitation. No doubt War had made quick work of anyone in the hall, so as she burst into the open she wasn’t surprised to find nothing there. Nothing alive, at least.
Her amber eyes flashed with the glint of adrenaline as her wingtips brushed the ceiling. The walls blurred together as she took turn after turn, the map Famine and her had been shown flashing through her mind. Within due time she was flung into the open skies, and she let the warm updraft lift her as she surveyed the outpost.
Famine was nowhere to be seen, and Pestilence felt a tremor of anxiety run through her bones. Before it could grow, she shoved to down deep to deal with later. Famine could take care of herself, couldn’t she?
Pestilence didn’t let herself answer.
The outpost was chaos. She caught a glimpse of golden fur diving down the other side of a wall, and she could see War crouched on a rooftop with his wings unfurled.
Bodies were scattered here and there, but it seemed like there were vastly more alive than dead enemies as they flooded from the outpost in sums greater than any she’d ever seen under Apocalypse’s command.
She was unable to suppress her worry for her sister. Terribly unable.
What if she hadn’t been able to hide? Her pelt was so bright there was no way she wasn’t spotted. What if-
“Sis, the hell are you waiting for? Get over here and help me!” She heard a shrill, annoyed call that could only ever be Famine’s. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding as her eyes sought after the source.
Famine was streaked with charcoal- her camouflage, Pestilence realized- and blood she could only hope wasn’t hers. Her paw was lifted gingerly, and her frosty eyes were narrow as she lashed out at a nimble fox that nipped at her tail whenever she let her focus slip.
The fox was clever, but with two sides to cover, it didn’t take long until she was just another body gasping in her last breaths on the cold brick.
---
The sisters fought hard, harder than they likely should’ve for such a hopeless endeavor, but it was no surprise when Apocalypse called for retreat. They were bloodied and battered, but Pestilence thanked Udrar that they could still fly.
She shuddered thinking about what would happen to them otherwise.
Written by: Sarkshine (#138592)
The sound of heavy paws on stone was the only thing Pestilence could hear in the damp, muffled lower chambers of the guard outpost she was stowed away in, but it was more than enough to make her fur bristle.
Her tail wrapped itself around her leg as she lay tensely between a dusty crate carrying a dulled scent of metal from within and the cold wall. She loathed being so confined. Her wings were pressed uncomfortably to her sides, and she couldn’t see the source of the pawsteps when she was tucked away in a corner. She wizened herself to have a word with Apocalypse when everything was through. She couldn’t work like this.
A low growl wrenched her from her thoughts, snapping her focus back to the task at claw.
“Curse the stars,” A gruff voice swore from a place she couldn’t quite see, and the heave and squeal of wood against stone grated her attuned ears, and she found herself pinning them to her head.
Bear, certainly.
She willed herself to be still, to be but a shadow, but the curiosity of a cat drove her to take a padded, silent step forward to try and gauge the situation. A black bear with riddled scars running snaking tunnels through his fur was slowly pulling the crate next to her hiding place from the wall. She sucked in a short breath instinctively, not daring to retreat or even let herself breathe in fears the movement would find herself killed.
After a long, lung searing moment, the guard managed to pull the crate to where he desired it.
“...Great Udrar, one would think Odrasil would have it I never got a moment’s respite,” The old bear grumbled under his breath as his beady eyes sought out where he was meant to move it to.
Pestilence was a bristled ball of black fur and feathers as she listened to the scrape of the crate being moved to another place. She could only assume her crate would be next.
Her tail twitched as her muscles coiled in preparation to spring upon the larger beast as the thud, thud, thud of heavy steps approached. He was close enough for Pestilence to hear his breathe and see the little clouds as they dissipated. Her claws made barely a whisper as she unsheathed them, and she was about to use them when a blood curdling scream shattered the near silence.
The guard whipped his head around as he started, but Pestilence was prepared.
That’s why she was here, after all.
He didn’t notice her as she slid free of her hiding place, her silky fur silencing her movements as she strode with newfound confidence now that the attack was underway. Her jaws were powerful vices, and not even the hide of a bear could stop her fangs from snapping shut, sinking into his vulnerable throat gruesomely.
It was over before it had even started, and her wings unfurled as she stretched them in the cramped space of the room. She left the guard to choke on his own blood as she whirled into the stairwell. The body of a slain wolverine lay on the steps, and she folded her wings as she leapt over it without so much as a hint of hesitation. No doubt War had made quick work of anyone in the hall, so as she burst into the open she wasn’t surprised to find nothing there. Nothing alive, at least.
Her amber eyes flashed with the glint of adrenaline as her wingtips brushed the ceiling. The walls blurred together as she took turn after turn, the map Famine and her had been shown flashing through her mind. Within due time she was flung into the open skies, and she let the warm updraft lift her as she surveyed the outpost.
Famine was nowhere to be seen, and Pestilence felt a tremor of anxiety run through her bones. Before it could grow, she shoved to down deep to deal with later. Famine could take care of herself, couldn’t she?
Pestilence didn’t let herself answer.
The outpost was chaos. She caught a glimpse of golden fur diving down the other side of a wall, and she could see War crouched on a rooftop with his wings unfurled.
Bodies were scattered here and there, but it seemed like there were vastly more alive than dead enemies as they flooded from the outpost in sums greater than any she’d ever seen under Apocalypse’s command.
She was unable to suppress her worry for her sister. Terribly unable.
What if she hadn’t been able to hide? Her pelt was so bright there was no way she wasn’t spotted. What if-
“Sis, the hell are you waiting for? Get over here and help me!” She heard a shrill, annoyed call that could only ever be Famine’s. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding as her eyes sought after the source.
Famine was streaked with charcoal- her camouflage, Pestilence realized- and blood she could only hope wasn’t hers. Her paw was lifted gingerly, and her frosty eyes were narrow as she lashed out at a nimble fox that nipped at her tail whenever she let her focus slip.
The fox was clever, but with two sides to cover, it didn’t take long until she was just another body gasping in her last breaths on the cold brick.
---
The sisters fought hard, harder than they likely should’ve for such a hopeless endeavor, but it was no surprise when Apocalypse called for retreat. They were bloodied and battered, but Pestilence thanked Udrar that they could still fly.
She shuddered thinking about what would happen to them otherwise.
Written by: Sarkshine (#138592)
We're All Mad Here
“Nyree?”
Nyrienah twitched her wings at the familiar sound of the oh-so-personal nickname, then took her attention off the scattered papers she held underneath her talons and onto Maven.
By the light of the few stumpy candles that illuminated their cramped hideout, the glossy blue-black of his wings blent almost perfectly into the shadows that lay across every corner; only the gaudy scarlet tips and the green of his eyes gave him away.
Maven blinked those same eyes, then clicked his beak and said, “Nyree, I think it’s time.”
In spite of herself, Nyrienah’s back clenched. The documents that covered every inch of the room had all been sketched by her. Every delicate charcoal line (she still hadn’t forgotten her years as an architect) was a result of a moon’s worth of plotting and planning and spying.
Yet deep down in her heart, a tiny, shameful, part of her still felt repulsed by what they were going to do.
Maven must have noticed her hesitation, because he slid up next to her and extended his wing so that it barely brushed her chest feathers.
“Are you regretting all our hard work?” he asked, a crooked smile playing on his beak.
She shook her head. “Never. I just wish,” she admitted,” that it didn’t have to come to this.”
Maven clacked his beak. “When I was spying on the guards at the palace gates, I heard them call him the mad king. They said he was organizing another attack on the rebel forces, and planning to execute any of the captured soldiers.”
“And meanwhile the people starve in the streets,” Nyriennah muttered.
“Sad, but true. My father,” he grimaced as he said the word, like he had done ever since they had escaped the royal jail, “is insane.Why else would he have abandoned me for his new wife’s brat?”
“And after his death there will be peace.” It was a calm statement of fact, one that she had known for years. Ever since she had run away with Tharah to join the rebel army, she had accepted that there was but one way to end King Merrious’ reign of terror. And somewhere far away, her dear wingster still fought alongside the General to bring peace to Ales.
At that thought, she slipped away from Maven and crouched in the doorway, pausing only to pat the satchel always draped across her chest and feel the two
curved shapes pressing against the leather. They were a pair, a gift Maven had given her after they had escaped the jail.
She would need them tonight.
In the middle of the moonless night, the only light in Ales came from the muted glow of candles in windows, and from where it streamed through the shutters of rowdy bars where griffins did Odrasil-knows-what.
Listening carefully for the clinking armor of patrolling guards, Nyrienah and Maven pressed themselves against the crumbly stone walls of the city buildings, and glided from shadow to shadow.
As they moved Nyrienah could feel Maven’s lanky body against hers, his wings draped across her shoulders to hide her fawny back and creamy underbelly. The cool night breezes that ruffled her feathers made her glad to have Maven’s warmth, even if she did feel much hotter under her feathers than she should.
Together they ducked into an alley, turned the corner, and slid through the narrow gaps between two buildings. They paused only for a moment to catch their breath, then dashed across the street, through an open square, and dived into the thick hedges that surrounded the ornate metal gates of the palace’s south side.
The inside of the hedge was cramped, and the twisted web of thorny branches tore at their feathers, but they had spent a month hollowing just enough space to curl up in. Now, all they had to do was wait, and they did, with their blood pounding in their head and their wings cramping and their breaths catching in their throat.
After what seemed like an eternity, they heard a faint clanking, and a guard turned the corner of the wall and walked past their hiding place.
He carried a lantern, and it filled Nyrienah’s vision with the tiny little pinpoints of light that filtered through the leaves. She squinted through a gap between two branches and glimpsed the shining metal of the armor, and the glint of a cold steel blade.
The guard was just close enough that their feathers brushed along the hedge, and the the faint rattle of the branches rang in her ears until the light faded as he walked past the gate and turned the corner.
The moment he was gone, Nyrienah could feel Maven moving beside her as he carefully squeezed himself out of the hedge, and she followed him. They both knew that the guards patrolled in ten minute rotations, and that the next one might be smart enough to poke his sword through the branches.
They quickly shook themselves off, then ran over to the gate and leapt into the air, beating their wings until their tails brushed the golden bird decoration at the very top. Then they folded them and Nyrienah could feel herself plummeting through darkness, cool air rustling her feathers and reminding her how very far down the ground was.
At the very last second, she spread her wings and landed with a click of talons on the cobblestone tiles of the southern courtyard. A small thump beside her told her that Maven had made it too.
They ducked against the side of the servant’s quarters, and made their way to a small wooden door set into the walls that towered far beyond their heads. They had chosen to go through the south side because it was only used by servants, messengers, and merchants, so it had never been as well guarded or well made as the main entrance. Nyrienah hoped they hadn’t improved things.
With a strong yank at the door, Maven proved that the unknown blacksmith who had made the hinges had been very content with the status quo, and they slunk through, making sure to leave it propped in the door frame.
The servant’s passages, unlike the halls of the palace, did not have marble tiles and gilded wallpaper. The bare stone walls formed a labyrinth of identical corridors that the wind whistled through, and Nyrienah followed Maven’s lead, trusting that he remembered his childhood hiding place well enough to navigate it. Eventually they came to a boarded up stone arch.
“Someone certainly doesn’t want to be disturbed,” Maven whispered, that familiar crooked smile playing across his beak as he ran his talons over the planks of wood that had been hastily nailed together, so that they stuck out at every angle.
Nyrienah tried to think of a response, but could find none. She stood there for a second, her back tense, until Maven suddenly began wrenching the boards away. She hurried forward to join him and got a splinter for her trouble, and they wiggled through the narrow gap they had created.
As Maven trotted ahead past a curved silver door (probably the second wife and her child’s room), she stayed back, taking in the surroundings. Even though she had spent all those years in the palace, she had never set a talon in the royal chambers.
Someone had placed candles in the rusty wall sconces, and the little nubs that remained cast a faint, flickering light over the long length of the hall that made the marble floor gleam. The wallpaper was covered in faded depictions of birds in flight and buckled at the seams, and the gilded frames of the paintings were adorned with a thin layer of dust. The velvet curtains were no better off; they had been drawn long ago and left to fade in the sun, and the shadows made the pale splotches look like a rash.
Maven suddenly clicked his beak and whirled around, and Nyrienah quickly made her way to his side at the end of the hallway.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, and he narrowed his eyes at her before looking back at door in front of them. It was curved like the one they had passed by, but gilded instead of silvered, and the dark mahogany panels were inlaid with jeweled depictions of Odrasil, the warrior goddess and mother of all griffins. In the candlelight her feathers twinkled like stars.
Nyrienah darted her eyes from side to side. “Where are the guards?” she whispered. She hadn’t seen a trace of them in the hall, and standing in the silence in front of the ornate door, the feathers of her neck stood up, as if they were about to drop down on her from the beams of the shadowy ceiling far above her head.
Maven jerked his head behind them towards the left side of the hall, where she noticed a worn iron door with the royal crest on it. A few papers were scattered in front of it, and a unlit lantern lay on its side.
She squinted her eyes at the unassuming objects and ruffled her feathers. “I don’t understand. Why did they leave?”
He chuckled. “I guess they didn’t feel like spending their entire night by a mad king’s door. I heard,” he leaned in toward her with a glint in his eyes, “that he screams in his sleep.”
In spite of herself, Nyrienah shuddered, and she could hear him snicker.
“Don’t worry Nyree,” he grinned. “You’ll be perfectly safe with a charming griffin like me by your side.”
She snorted, feeling a familiar wave of exasperation. “I’d rather trust in your blades than your bravery,” she said as she rooted through her satchel and pulled out the daggers he’d given her. The glossy obsidian blades were as dark as his back, and she crouched on her hindlegs as she gripped the smooth ebony wood handles, and felt her talons dig into the pale leather strips that held them both together.
Maven just smiled and put his talon on the door, waiting until she gave a sharp nod to open it just enough to let them slip inside.
As it closed with a soft thump behind them, Nyrienah quickly scanned the windowless bedroom, taking in the dark tabletops covered in papers, the portraits that hung on the wall, the towering four poster bed with the silken mattresses all in a heap -
The ‘lump’ in the mattresses let out a moan, and she took a step back, even as Maven edged slowly forward.
The king lifted his greying head from under the covers, squinting his eyes at the shifting shadows of his bedchamber. He could swear he saw a female form, and his mind scrabbled for an answer. “Silvious?” he squawked, his wings fluttering at his sides. “Silvious, is that you?”
Nyrienah shook her head at the name of the long-dead queen, and bounded forward, her hind legs stretched in a jump, her talons spread and the blades flashing - only to collide against Maven, who had crept right up to the edge of the bed.
The king gave a shriek at the commotion, and began to thrash in his bed. “I said no one was to come hear, did you hear? No servants, no guards,” his talons slashed through the pillows and the feathers scattered across the sheets,” no one! I’ll have you executed like the damned rebels -”
Maven leapt onto his father, and fastened his claws around the king’s throat. “You idiot, don’t you recognize your own son?”
The king gave a gurgle in reply, and Maven dug his claws in until the ruffled feathers around his father’s neck were as red as Maven’s own wingtips.
“Then again, “he snarled, and Nyrienah started at his twisted features, “why would you recognize me? What did you ever want with me?”
The king squirmed against the chokehold, and Maven shook him back and forth. “When mother died,” he growled, “What did you do about that unfortunate son she left behind? The son,” he gasped, as he slammed the king’s face against the headboard, “that didn’t even look like he was supposed to?”
Rocking back and forth on the sheets, the king opened the cracked, bloody remains of his beak, then snapped it shut with a low whine as Maven moved on to his wings, twisting the delicate sockets back and forth and slashing through the muscle.
“Did my darling father take me under his wing? Did he put down the rebellions and rule Ales like a strong, capable leader? Did he give me a nation I could rule over? Or did he,” something gave a sickening crunch, “fuck everything up?”
Gasping for breath, the king flopped his legs and hindquarters back and forth, screeching as his body was racked with white-hot flashes of pain and his wounds stained the glossy silk sheets.
“And what did you do then?” Maven shouted. “You replace me with that bitches’ brat! See how you’ve treated me, father -”
Nyrienah leapt awkwardly onto the bed beside Maven, and dropped the dagger she held in her left talon to reach out to shake him by the shoulder, but he clenched his left talon around it and held his father by the neck with his right.
He turned to her, stained with blood and soaked with sweat and laughed shrilly. “Don’t you understand, Nyree?” he grinned. “Don’t you know he deserves it? Didn’t you fight on the battlefields-”
“Maven,” she whispered, and he just sunk his claws deeper into his father’s flesh, tearing out feathers as the king squealed and squeaked and choked on his own blood.
“Don’t you get it?” Maven screamed at her, specks of foam flying from his beak and landing on his father.
Nyriennah shook like a leaf in the wind and stared at him, trying to remember what the cocky youngster she had been so annoyed by all those years had looked like. She cleared he throat, and tried to speak to that griffin, instead of the wild-eyed one in front of her.
“If...if you keep on doing. this,” she said, stumbling over her words as she saw how he tensed up at the sound of her voice, “then, well, no one will believe it was intentional.”
He stared blankly at her for a second, then laughed again. “Did you hear that, father?” he shouted. “Didn’t expect that to come from a pretty thing like her, didn’t you? Well, Nyree’s a practical girl, and she’s right. We’re going to make it look like a suicide,” he said, snickering at the thought.
Then Maven pushed his father’s flailing body toward her, and sat back on his hindquarters. “He’s all yours,” he said with a grin.
She picked up the other dagger and closed her eyes, thinking Odrasil help me before thrusting it deftly into the king’s heaving chest, feeling the second of resistance before it slid into the flesh.
He exploded into action, writhing back and forth so that the second blow just nicked him on the ribs.
But in the end, it didn’t matter. Nyrienah drove in blow after blow, forcing the dagger in and yanking it out in a steady rhythm until she was as bloody as Maven.
When she was finished, the king was nothing but a stained mass of grey feathers, and she wiped the wet blades on the tattered remains of the sheets before turning to Maven.
His eyes were wet and his brows were drawn together, and his chest heaved up and down as he stared at his talons.
She stood there beside him, and a wave of nausea washed over her as she felt the way her damp feathers stuck together.
In the silence her eyes were drawn to the lifeless thing in front of her, and she wondered for the first time how the king had been like all those years ago, before Queen Silvius had died in the same plague that had killed Nyriennah’s mother. She dimly remembered seeing a painting of them perched on the throne, proud and regal.
A lump formed in her throat as she stared at the corpse and wondered what went wrong.
How could the king have lost his mind like that? Why did griffins have to fight and die because of him? Why did Maven and her have to do this? And...why did he like it so much?
She turned her head back to him, expecting the same fear in his eyes, the same solemn resignation, and the same regret.
But even though tears were running down his face and sliding off his bloody beak, he had started grinning again.
“Well,” he whispered as she stared blankly at him, “I guess that’s one down, two to go.”
He gave a watery chuckle.
“It’s not easy being king Nyree, but I’m going to enjoy it so, so much.”
Nyree - she only went by Maven’s pet name now - sat on the floor of her room in the royal chambers, her satchel beside her. A few of her papers were scattered beside her, and her sketchbook lay open.
She flipped idly through it while running her talons over her daggers. Lately she felt anxious whenever they weren’t close by, as if she was missing an important part of her, like her wings or her tail.
There were some charcoal sketches, of her and some female griffin (a friend? Everything before Maven claimed the throne was so fuzzy, except for...that night). Mixed in were a few sketches of Maven himself, always smiling, just like he did whenever he was happy. Really happy, not just in one of those odd moods of his (they had started so suddenly) where his grin was stiff and his eyes were wild and he either laughed wildly at everything or he screamed his head off.
Nyree suddenly decided to flip straight to the middle of the sketchbook, and she landed on a oil painting of three griffins in a crude tent. She furrowed her brows and looked closer, and realized that the figure in the middle was her - she couldn’t mistake her coat, all tawny on top and white on the face and underbelly, just like an owl. To the right of her was that unknown griffeness she’d been wondering about, and to the left was a griffin not in the beginning of the sketchbook that the other two were looking at.
He was taller than either of them, and the brown feathers on his stocky body had a hint of grey to them. His brows were drawn up as if he was telling a joke, but the set of his jaw and the tenseness of his body told a different story.
Nyree squinted, as if she was peering through a dense fog. It would have taken her a week to paint something like this, and even longer for the oil paint to dry, so those two griffins must have been important to her. She stared a bit harder at their faces, even though she knew from experience that she couldn’t force her memories to come back.
A knock on her door made her jerk her head up, and she shoved the sketchbook and all her papers back into her satchel, which she slid back over her chest. The daggers she didn’t let go of.
Without waiting for a response, two guards pushed open the door and walked into the room, their armor shining and swords sharp - the sight of their blades made Nyree clutch hers tighter.
“King Maven sent for you,” one of them muttered while staring down at his talons. The other gave a stiff nod to back him up.
She shook herself off, slipped the daggers back in the satchel, and followed them. Together they walked briskly through the guard’s door out of the royal chambers, and through several wide hallways before stopping before the smooth marble doors of the throne room. Then the guards (who still didn’t look at her) gave her a quick salute before trotting back to their posts.
Nyree took a deep breath and placed her talon on the cold marble. Then she exhaled, and pushed open the double doors.
A clamour of voices filled her ears; in the middle of the golden chamber, a group of shouting guards held the chains that bound a muscular brown griffin, and the chains gave a silvery rattle as the prisoner shook himself back and forth and cursed them.
From upon a marble throne whose polished spikes jutted to the ceiling, Maven beat his wings, and screeched down at the guards.
“Idiots!” he snarled, clawing at the smooth arms of the throne. “Restrain him!”
The guards gestured among themselves, and three of the biggest tackled the prisoner; one of them held their sword to his throat while the second shoved a gag in his mouth and the third wrapped the chains tighter and tighter around him, until his limbs were fastened to his sides and he lay on the floor like a fledgling’s dropped ragdoll.
Maven leaned back with a small smile on his beak and sighed.
“Another job well done,” he snarked.
Nyree finally stirred from her place in front of the door, and Maven’s eyes lit up as he saw her. He arched his back, slipped off the throne and sauntered over to her, giving the prisoner a smirk as he passed by.
He smiled at her, and gestured back at the prisoner.
“I’ve got a very special job for you,” he said. “He’s a very important prisoner - a rebel leader. He deserves special treatment.”
Nyree frowned, something she tried not to do around Maven. There always seemed to be prisoners in the dungeon; Maven told her they were rebel traitors (Although why did the rebels have to keep on fighting now that Maven was king?) He spent hours each day plotting out campaigns against them (Sometimes she could get a little, well, lonely all alone in her room.)
Sometimes, like now, he paraded them in front of her, but usually by the time she knew about them their cell was already standing empty.
What did he want her to do?
Maven chuckled at her puzzled expression, and brushed her with his tail.
“Come on now Nyree, don’t play the fool. I’ve seen you practice on the training fields, and I just wanted to put your considerable talents to work.”
Her brow cleared, and she gave Maven a weak smile in return. This was a...surprise, sure, but he was right. What was the point of being skilled with her blades if the only thing they ever slashed at were training dummies? She was glad to have an opportunity to help Maven, and she relished the thought of making him proud.
He smiled at her smile.
“I’m glad to see you agree” he said. “But I’d like to see how our distinguished guest feels.”
He turned back toward the prisoner. “Ungag him!”
As one guard yanked off the cloth, Nyree slipped her daggers out of her satchel and glided toward the chained figure.
The prisoner gave a few rattly coughs, frowning as he licked his dusty beak, and then fixed his eyes directly on Nyra.
“Nyrienah!” he croaked.
She froze, and her talons dug into the marble.
The prisoner narrowed his eyes. “Nyriennah, what in Odrasil’s name happened? From the moment Tharah told me you’d been captured - ”
She cut him off. “Who is Tharah?”
He stared at her. “Your...your wingster. Nyriennah - ”
She frowned. “That isn’t my name anymore.” Her voice sounded a little shrill, like a fledgling complaining about being sent to bed.
The prisoner blinked. “Nyriennah...do you remember who I am?”
She squinted at the solid brown form all wrapped in chains, and an image sprang into her head.
“You’re him,” she said, moving towards the prisoner. “The one in the painting.”
She stopped in front of him. “But you’re a rebel,” she said slowly. “How do you know me?”
The prisoner glanced quickly around the room, his eyes passing over the alert guards still holding his chains and Maven still perched watchfully on his throne. He took a deep breath, and let it go.
In a rush the words tumbled out, “Nyrienah, I’m General Ydvich; I saw you the first time when you ran away to join the rebel army with Tharah-”
“I’m not a traitor!”
He blazed on, “And you were such bright young griffeness’ that I trained you myself - I was the one who taught you how to use a dagger-”
Without meaning to she glanced down at the blades she held in her talons.
“And you splintered all the dummies’ chests into pieces and I knew I had to promote you, and it was one of the best decisions I’d ever made, you were my right-hand griffin and we fought together in so many battles-”
She shook her head and stepped back, away from the flurry of words.
“And you were always sketching in that little book of yours and snarking, you made Tharah and me laugh so much even though sometimes it seemed liked the mad king would rule forever, and when you got captured-”
“That was when I met Maven again,”she cut in.”We...we got rid of the mad king.”
General Ydvich widened his eyes. “Nobody knew what was going on - we thought you’d been killed. All we knew was that one second were were up against waves of troops and the next there was nobody.”
“That was Maven’s doing,” she said with a smile. “He ended the war.”
“Is that what he’s told you? Nyrienah, he’s been hunting us down with his troops and slaughtering us while his people die in the streets-”
“Lies!” Maven shouted from the throne, and she turned her head toward him. “Nyree, don’t let the traitor poison your mind!”
“Look at what he’s done to you!” the General shouted back. “You’re not a killer, or a confused little fledgling; you’re a strong, brave griffeness worth her weight in gold on the battlefield - you were a daughter to me-”
“Don’t listen to him!” Maven screeched. “Do it now!”
Nyree hesitated for a second, feeling Maven’s eyes burning holes into her back, and then leapt forward with her blades outstretched before her. She landed right on top of the chained general, and drove in the daggers at just the right angle for them to pierce between his ribs and into the soft organs they protected.
She leapt off his flailing body, and as he choked on the blood bubbling up from inside his punctured lungs, he whispered wheezily, “I’m so-so...sorry, but you’re not my, d-daughter.” The last word was punctuated by a hacking cough that spewed blood all over his face, and he gave a series of weak gurgles until his head flopped down onto the floor.
Nyree stood like a statue in front of his corpse and looked down upon it. No, she wasn’t his daughter. His daughter had been Nyrienah, and Nyrienah was gone, lost in a fog of memories and bloodshed.
As the guards sloppily mopped up the floor and dragged the body away, Maven slipped off his throne and came to her with a wide smile on his beak; with him beside her she realized that there was only Nyree.
Written by: Purrfect (#77681)
“Nyree?”
Nyrienah twitched her wings at the familiar sound of the oh-so-personal nickname, then took her attention off the scattered papers she held underneath her talons and onto Maven.
By the light of the few stumpy candles that illuminated their cramped hideout, the glossy blue-black of his wings blent almost perfectly into the shadows that lay across every corner; only the gaudy scarlet tips and the green of his eyes gave him away.
Maven blinked those same eyes, then clicked his beak and said, “Nyree, I think it’s time.”
In spite of herself, Nyrienah’s back clenched. The documents that covered every inch of the room had all been sketched by her. Every delicate charcoal line (she still hadn’t forgotten her years as an architect) was a result of a moon’s worth of plotting and planning and spying.
Yet deep down in her heart, a tiny, shameful, part of her still felt repulsed by what they were going to do.
Maven must have noticed her hesitation, because he slid up next to her and extended his wing so that it barely brushed her chest feathers.
“Are you regretting all our hard work?” he asked, a crooked smile playing on his beak.
She shook her head. “Never. I just wish,” she admitted,” that it didn’t have to come to this.”
Maven clacked his beak. “When I was spying on the guards at the palace gates, I heard them call him the mad king. They said he was organizing another attack on the rebel forces, and planning to execute any of the captured soldiers.”
“And meanwhile the people starve in the streets,” Nyriennah muttered.
“Sad, but true. My father,” he grimaced as he said the word, like he had done ever since they had escaped the royal jail, “is insane.Why else would he have abandoned me for his new wife’s brat?”
“And after his death there will be peace.” It was a calm statement of fact, one that she had known for years. Ever since she had run away with Tharah to join the rebel army, she had accepted that there was but one way to end King Merrious’ reign of terror. And somewhere far away, her dear wingster still fought alongside the General to bring peace to Ales.
At that thought, she slipped away from Maven and crouched in the doorway, pausing only to pat the satchel always draped across her chest and feel the two
curved shapes pressing against the leather. They were a pair, a gift Maven had given her after they had escaped the jail.
She would need them tonight.
In the middle of the moonless night, the only light in Ales came from the muted glow of candles in windows, and from where it streamed through the shutters of rowdy bars where griffins did Odrasil-knows-what.
Listening carefully for the clinking armor of patrolling guards, Nyrienah and Maven pressed themselves against the crumbly stone walls of the city buildings, and glided from shadow to shadow.
As they moved Nyrienah could feel Maven’s lanky body against hers, his wings draped across her shoulders to hide her fawny back and creamy underbelly. The cool night breezes that ruffled her feathers made her glad to have Maven’s warmth, even if she did feel much hotter under her feathers than she should.
Together they ducked into an alley, turned the corner, and slid through the narrow gaps between two buildings. They paused only for a moment to catch their breath, then dashed across the street, through an open square, and dived into the thick hedges that surrounded the ornate metal gates of the palace’s south side.
The inside of the hedge was cramped, and the twisted web of thorny branches tore at their feathers, but they had spent a month hollowing just enough space to curl up in. Now, all they had to do was wait, and they did, with their blood pounding in their head and their wings cramping and their breaths catching in their throat.
After what seemed like an eternity, they heard a faint clanking, and a guard turned the corner of the wall and walked past their hiding place.
He carried a lantern, and it filled Nyrienah’s vision with the tiny little pinpoints of light that filtered through the leaves. She squinted through a gap between two branches and glimpsed the shining metal of the armor, and the glint of a cold steel blade.
The guard was just close enough that their feathers brushed along the hedge, and the the faint rattle of the branches rang in her ears until the light faded as he walked past the gate and turned the corner.
The moment he was gone, Nyrienah could feel Maven moving beside her as he carefully squeezed himself out of the hedge, and she followed him. They both knew that the guards patrolled in ten minute rotations, and that the next one might be smart enough to poke his sword through the branches.
They quickly shook themselves off, then ran over to the gate and leapt into the air, beating their wings until their tails brushed the golden bird decoration at the very top. Then they folded them and Nyrienah could feel herself plummeting through darkness, cool air rustling her feathers and reminding her how very far down the ground was.
At the very last second, she spread her wings and landed with a click of talons on the cobblestone tiles of the southern courtyard. A small thump beside her told her that Maven had made it too.
They ducked against the side of the servant’s quarters, and made their way to a small wooden door set into the walls that towered far beyond their heads. They had chosen to go through the south side because it was only used by servants, messengers, and merchants, so it had never been as well guarded or well made as the main entrance. Nyrienah hoped they hadn’t improved things.
With a strong yank at the door, Maven proved that the unknown blacksmith who had made the hinges had been very content with the status quo, and they slunk through, making sure to leave it propped in the door frame.
The servant’s passages, unlike the halls of the palace, did not have marble tiles and gilded wallpaper. The bare stone walls formed a labyrinth of identical corridors that the wind whistled through, and Nyrienah followed Maven’s lead, trusting that he remembered his childhood hiding place well enough to navigate it. Eventually they came to a boarded up stone arch.
“Someone certainly doesn’t want to be disturbed,” Maven whispered, that familiar crooked smile playing across his beak as he ran his talons over the planks of wood that had been hastily nailed together, so that they stuck out at every angle.
Nyrienah tried to think of a response, but could find none. She stood there for a second, her back tense, until Maven suddenly began wrenching the boards away. She hurried forward to join him and got a splinter for her trouble, and they wiggled through the narrow gap they had created.
As Maven trotted ahead past a curved silver door (probably the second wife and her child’s room), she stayed back, taking in the surroundings. Even though she had spent all those years in the palace, she had never set a talon in the royal chambers.
Someone had placed candles in the rusty wall sconces, and the little nubs that remained cast a faint, flickering light over the long length of the hall that made the marble floor gleam. The wallpaper was covered in faded depictions of birds in flight and buckled at the seams, and the gilded frames of the paintings were adorned with a thin layer of dust. The velvet curtains were no better off; they had been drawn long ago and left to fade in the sun, and the shadows made the pale splotches look like a rash.
Maven suddenly clicked his beak and whirled around, and Nyrienah quickly made her way to his side at the end of the hallway.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, and he narrowed his eyes at her before looking back at door in front of them. It was curved like the one they had passed by, but gilded instead of silvered, and the dark mahogany panels were inlaid with jeweled depictions of Odrasil, the warrior goddess and mother of all griffins. In the candlelight her feathers twinkled like stars.
Nyrienah darted her eyes from side to side. “Where are the guards?” she whispered. She hadn’t seen a trace of them in the hall, and standing in the silence in front of the ornate door, the feathers of her neck stood up, as if they were about to drop down on her from the beams of the shadowy ceiling far above her head.
Maven jerked his head behind them towards the left side of the hall, where she noticed a worn iron door with the royal crest on it. A few papers were scattered in front of it, and a unlit lantern lay on its side.
She squinted her eyes at the unassuming objects and ruffled her feathers. “I don’t understand. Why did they leave?”
He chuckled. “I guess they didn’t feel like spending their entire night by a mad king’s door. I heard,” he leaned in toward her with a glint in his eyes, “that he screams in his sleep.”
In spite of herself, Nyrienah shuddered, and she could hear him snicker.
“Don’t worry Nyree,” he grinned. “You’ll be perfectly safe with a charming griffin like me by your side.”
She snorted, feeling a familiar wave of exasperation. “I’d rather trust in your blades than your bravery,” she said as she rooted through her satchel and pulled out the daggers he’d given her. The glossy obsidian blades were as dark as his back, and she crouched on her hindlegs as she gripped the smooth ebony wood handles, and felt her talons dig into the pale leather strips that held them both together.
Maven just smiled and put his talon on the door, waiting until she gave a sharp nod to open it just enough to let them slip inside.
As it closed with a soft thump behind them, Nyrienah quickly scanned the windowless bedroom, taking in the dark tabletops covered in papers, the portraits that hung on the wall, the towering four poster bed with the silken mattresses all in a heap -
The ‘lump’ in the mattresses let out a moan, and she took a step back, even as Maven edged slowly forward.
The king lifted his greying head from under the covers, squinting his eyes at the shifting shadows of his bedchamber. He could swear he saw a female form, and his mind scrabbled for an answer. “Silvious?” he squawked, his wings fluttering at his sides. “Silvious, is that you?”
Nyrienah shook her head at the name of the long-dead queen, and bounded forward, her hind legs stretched in a jump, her talons spread and the blades flashing - only to collide against Maven, who had crept right up to the edge of the bed.
The king gave a shriek at the commotion, and began to thrash in his bed. “I said no one was to come hear, did you hear? No servants, no guards,” his talons slashed through the pillows and the feathers scattered across the sheets,” no one! I’ll have you executed like the damned rebels -”
Maven leapt onto his father, and fastened his claws around the king’s throat. “You idiot, don’t you recognize your own son?”
The king gave a gurgle in reply, and Maven dug his claws in until the ruffled feathers around his father’s neck were as red as Maven’s own wingtips.
“Then again, “he snarled, and Nyrienah started at his twisted features, “why would you recognize me? What did you ever want with me?”
The king squirmed against the chokehold, and Maven shook him back and forth. “When mother died,” he growled, “What did you do about that unfortunate son she left behind? The son,” he gasped, as he slammed the king’s face against the headboard, “that didn’t even look like he was supposed to?”
Rocking back and forth on the sheets, the king opened the cracked, bloody remains of his beak, then snapped it shut with a low whine as Maven moved on to his wings, twisting the delicate sockets back and forth and slashing through the muscle.
“Did my darling father take me under his wing? Did he put down the rebellions and rule Ales like a strong, capable leader? Did he give me a nation I could rule over? Or did he,” something gave a sickening crunch, “fuck everything up?”
Gasping for breath, the king flopped his legs and hindquarters back and forth, screeching as his body was racked with white-hot flashes of pain and his wounds stained the glossy silk sheets.
“And what did you do then?” Maven shouted. “You replace me with that bitches’ brat! See how you’ve treated me, father -”
Nyrienah leapt awkwardly onto the bed beside Maven, and dropped the dagger she held in her left talon to reach out to shake him by the shoulder, but he clenched his left talon around it and held his father by the neck with his right.
He turned to her, stained with blood and soaked with sweat and laughed shrilly. “Don’t you understand, Nyree?” he grinned. “Don’t you know he deserves it? Didn’t you fight on the battlefields-”
“Maven,” she whispered, and he just sunk his claws deeper into his father’s flesh, tearing out feathers as the king squealed and squeaked and choked on his own blood.
“Don’t you get it?” Maven screamed at her, specks of foam flying from his beak and landing on his father.
Nyriennah shook like a leaf in the wind and stared at him, trying to remember what the cocky youngster she had been so annoyed by all those years had looked like. She cleared he throat, and tried to speak to that griffin, instead of the wild-eyed one in front of her.
“If...if you keep on doing. this,” she said, stumbling over her words as she saw how he tensed up at the sound of her voice, “then, well, no one will believe it was intentional.”
He stared blankly at her for a second, then laughed again. “Did you hear that, father?” he shouted. “Didn’t expect that to come from a pretty thing like her, didn’t you? Well, Nyree’s a practical girl, and she’s right. We’re going to make it look like a suicide,” he said, snickering at the thought.
Then Maven pushed his father’s flailing body toward her, and sat back on his hindquarters. “He’s all yours,” he said with a grin.
She picked up the other dagger and closed her eyes, thinking Odrasil help me before thrusting it deftly into the king’s heaving chest, feeling the second of resistance before it slid into the flesh.
He exploded into action, writhing back and forth so that the second blow just nicked him on the ribs.
But in the end, it didn’t matter. Nyrienah drove in blow after blow, forcing the dagger in and yanking it out in a steady rhythm until she was as bloody as Maven.
When she was finished, the king was nothing but a stained mass of grey feathers, and she wiped the wet blades on the tattered remains of the sheets before turning to Maven.
His eyes were wet and his brows were drawn together, and his chest heaved up and down as he stared at his talons.
She stood there beside him, and a wave of nausea washed over her as she felt the way her damp feathers stuck together.
In the silence her eyes were drawn to the lifeless thing in front of her, and she wondered for the first time how the king had been like all those years ago, before Queen Silvius had died in the same plague that had killed Nyriennah’s mother. She dimly remembered seeing a painting of them perched on the throne, proud and regal.
A lump formed in her throat as she stared at the corpse and wondered what went wrong.
How could the king have lost his mind like that? Why did griffins have to fight and die because of him? Why did Maven and her have to do this? And...why did he like it so much?
She turned her head back to him, expecting the same fear in his eyes, the same solemn resignation, and the same regret.
But even though tears were running down his face and sliding off his bloody beak, he had started grinning again.
“Well,” he whispered as she stared blankly at him, “I guess that’s one down, two to go.”
He gave a watery chuckle.
“It’s not easy being king Nyree, but I’m going to enjoy it so, so much.”
Nyree - she only went by Maven’s pet name now - sat on the floor of her room in the royal chambers, her satchel beside her. A few of her papers were scattered beside her, and her sketchbook lay open.
She flipped idly through it while running her talons over her daggers. Lately she felt anxious whenever they weren’t close by, as if she was missing an important part of her, like her wings or her tail.
There were some charcoal sketches, of her and some female griffin (a friend? Everything before Maven claimed the throne was so fuzzy, except for...that night). Mixed in were a few sketches of Maven himself, always smiling, just like he did whenever he was happy. Really happy, not just in one of those odd moods of his (they had started so suddenly) where his grin was stiff and his eyes were wild and he either laughed wildly at everything or he screamed his head off.
Nyree suddenly decided to flip straight to the middle of the sketchbook, and she landed on a oil painting of three griffins in a crude tent. She furrowed her brows and looked closer, and realized that the figure in the middle was her - she couldn’t mistake her coat, all tawny on top and white on the face and underbelly, just like an owl. To the right of her was that unknown griffeness she’d been wondering about, and to the left was a griffin not in the beginning of the sketchbook that the other two were looking at.
He was taller than either of them, and the brown feathers on his stocky body had a hint of grey to them. His brows were drawn up as if he was telling a joke, but the set of his jaw and the tenseness of his body told a different story.
Nyree squinted, as if she was peering through a dense fog. It would have taken her a week to paint something like this, and even longer for the oil paint to dry, so those two griffins must have been important to her. She stared a bit harder at their faces, even though she knew from experience that she couldn’t force her memories to come back.
A knock on her door made her jerk her head up, and she shoved the sketchbook and all her papers back into her satchel, which she slid back over her chest. The daggers she didn’t let go of.
Without waiting for a response, two guards pushed open the door and walked into the room, their armor shining and swords sharp - the sight of their blades made Nyree clutch hers tighter.
“King Maven sent for you,” one of them muttered while staring down at his talons. The other gave a stiff nod to back him up.
She shook herself off, slipped the daggers back in the satchel, and followed them. Together they walked briskly through the guard’s door out of the royal chambers, and through several wide hallways before stopping before the smooth marble doors of the throne room. Then the guards (who still didn’t look at her) gave her a quick salute before trotting back to their posts.
Nyree took a deep breath and placed her talon on the cold marble. Then she exhaled, and pushed open the double doors.
A clamour of voices filled her ears; in the middle of the golden chamber, a group of shouting guards held the chains that bound a muscular brown griffin, and the chains gave a silvery rattle as the prisoner shook himself back and forth and cursed them.
From upon a marble throne whose polished spikes jutted to the ceiling, Maven beat his wings, and screeched down at the guards.
“Idiots!” he snarled, clawing at the smooth arms of the throne. “Restrain him!”
The guards gestured among themselves, and three of the biggest tackled the prisoner; one of them held their sword to his throat while the second shoved a gag in his mouth and the third wrapped the chains tighter and tighter around him, until his limbs were fastened to his sides and he lay on the floor like a fledgling’s dropped ragdoll.
Maven leaned back with a small smile on his beak and sighed.
“Another job well done,” he snarked.
Nyree finally stirred from her place in front of the door, and Maven’s eyes lit up as he saw her. He arched his back, slipped off the throne and sauntered over to her, giving the prisoner a smirk as he passed by.
He smiled at her, and gestured back at the prisoner.
“I’ve got a very special job for you,” he said. “He’s a very important prisoner - a rebel leader. He deserves special treatment.”
Nyree frowned, something she tried not to do around Maven. There always seemed to be prisoners in the dungeon; Maven told her they were rebel traitors (Although why did the rebels have to keep on fighting now that Maven was king?) He spent hours each day plotting out campaigns against them (Sometimes she could get a little, well, lonely all alone in her room.)
Sometimes, like now, he paraded them in front of her, but usually by the time she knew about them their cell was already standing empty.
What did he want her to do?
Maven chuckled at her puzzled expression, and brushed her with his tail.
“Come on now Nyree, don’t play the fool. I’ve seen you practice on the training fields, and I just wanted to put your considerable talents to work.”
Her brow cleared, and she gave Maven a weak smile in return. This was a...surprise, sure, but he was right. What was the point of being skilled with her blades if the only thing they ever slashed at were training dummies? She was glad to have an opportunity to help Maven, and she relished the thought of making him proud.
He smiled at her smile.
“I’m glad to see you agree” he said. “But I’d like to see how our distinguished guest feels.”
He turned back toward the prisoner. “Ungag him!”
As one guard yanked off the cloth, Nyree slipped her daggers out of her satchel and glided toward the chained figure.
The prisoner gave a few rattly coughs, frowning as he licked his dusty beak, and then fixed his eyes directly on Nyra.
“Nyrienah!” he croaked.
She froze, and her talons dug into the marble.
The prisoner narrowed his eyes. “Nyriennah, what in Odrasil’s name happened? From the moment Tharah told me you’d been captured - ”
She cut him off. “Who is Tharah?”
He stared at her. “Your...your wingster. Nyriennah - ”
She frowned. “That isn’t my name anymore.” Her voice sounded a little shrill, like a fledgling complaining about being sent to bed.
The prisoner blinked. “Nyriennah...do you remember who I am?”
She squinted at the solid brown form all wrapped in chains, and an image sprang into her head.
“You’re him,” she said, moving towards the prisoner. “The one in the painting.”
She stopped in front of him. “But you’re a rebel,” she said slowly. “How do you know me?”
The prisoner glanced quickly around the room, his eyes passing over the alert guards still holding his chains and Maven still perched watchfully on his throne. He took a deep breath, and let it go.
In a rush the words tumbled out, “Nyrienah, I’m General Ydvich; I saw you the first time when you ran away to join the rebel army with Tharah-”
“I’m not a traitor!”
He blazed on, “And you were such bright young griffeness’ that I trained you myself - I was the one who taught you how to use a dagger-”
Without meaning to she glanced down at the blades she held in her talons.
“And you splintered all the dummies’ chests into pieces and I knew I had to promote you, and it was one of the best decisions I’d ever made, you were my right-hand griffin and we fought together in so many battles-”
She shook her head and stepped back, away from the flurry of words.
“And you were always sketching in that little book of yours and snarking, you made Tharah and me laugh so much even though sometimes it seemed liked the mad king would rule forever, and when you got captured-”
“That was when I met Maven again,”she cut in.”We...we got rid of the mad king.”
General Ydvich widened his eyes. “Nobody knew what was going on - we thought you’d been killed. All we knew was that one second were were up against waves of troops and the next there was nobody.”
“That was Maven’s doing,” she said with a smile. “He ended the war.”
“Is that what he’s told you? Nyrienah, he’s been hunting us down with his troops and slaughtering us while his people die in the streets-”
“Lies!” Maven shouted from the throne, and she turned her head toward him. “Nyree, don’t let the traitor poison your mind!”
“Look at what he’s done to you!” the General shouted back. “You’re not a killer, or a confused little fledgling; you’re a strong, brave griffeness worth her weight in gold on the battlefield - you were a daughter to me-”
“Don’t listen to him!” Maven screeched. “Do it now!”
Nyree hesitated for a second, feeling Maven’s eyes burning holes into her back, and then leapt forward with her blades outstretched before her. She landed right on top of the chained general, and drove in the daggers at just the right angle for them to pierce between his ribs and into the soft organs they protected.
She leapt off his flailing body, and as he choked on the blood bubbling up from inside his punctured lungs, he whispered wheezily, “I’m so-so...sorry, but you’re not my, d-daughter.” The last word was punctuated by a hacking cough that spewed blood all over his face, and he gave a series of weak gurgles until his head flopped down onto the floor.
Nyree stood like a statue in front of his corpse and looked down upon it. No, she wasn’t his daughter. His daughter had been Nyrienah, and Nyrienah was gone, lost in a fog of memories and bloodshed.
As the guards sloppily mopped up the floor and dragged the body away, Maven slipped off his throne and came to her with a wide smile on his beak; with him beside her she realized that there was only Nyree.
Written by: Purrfect (#77681)