Entrenched in one of the corrupted rivers of fel blood in Tanaan jungle, the warlock sat brooding, still staring down at his missing appendage. Cut off just below the elbow, phantom pains from a hand that no longer existed plagued him, though the physical pain of the wound itself was agonizing. A seeping cold that burned and fought against the energies he was attempting to store within his own body though osmosis. The Knight had done his job well, he’d had to admit, though the warlock had grown since last they’d been confronted.
Falsely accused of committing a disgusting crime while perpetrating something much more atrocious had been a surprise. He’d expected the elder warlock and his whore to come crashing down upon his hidey hole beneath the Hearth, not a battalion of Knights led by one of those acid spitting worms.
As he squatted in the green fluids, Talaeesh grimaced, recounting his maddened assault upon the Hearth for the loss of his arm and tallying up the totals. Two dead wolves. A few dead guards. With all luck, the whore who had spurned him was dead as well, her throat slashed open after he’d sent his shelled out puppet of the whore’s daughter to torment the pair. He knew Raisarus had a soft spot for the child, so it had only made the entire thing sweeter.
But it wasn’t enough.
No, they’d maimed him. They’d stolen his sister away from him, the only person in the entire world who’d trusted him, cared about him. They’d failed to bring her back, when they knew damned well she’d been alive. His little Feather. The fingers of his remaining hand clenched into a fist in the fel sludge, a snarl breaking forth on his refined face.
“How about I burn down this entire fucking inn with the three of you, starting with that whore?!”
While she managed to remain outwardly calm on some level, the words struck at a door she’d managed to seal off, chipping away at it. When Syranis had said to leave, she’d wasted no time, scrambling up the stairs and nearly tripping over her own feet in the process. There, she’d hidden, half in a daze and letting most of the basic functions such as what to look at and what to listen to run on auto pilot. She may have even made some commentary to Cerothyn and Syranis, not that she could remember.
Everything had been going well, she’d been poised to make quite a lot of coin doing what the dock rat saw as trivial. A simple spreading of the legs, a few well placed moans, and most men were satisfied, her purse lined with coin. But then the fight had broken out and it’d all gone to hell. If only Nikklaus hadn’t antagonized the witch...
How she’d managed to make it back to her nest in the cargo hold of the Captain’s ship, she couldn’t recount to anyone that would ask, though she suspected it had to do with the furry pillow of a wolf beneath her head. Her shoulders rolled, disturbing Lupa into a soft scolding whuff, but the agony in her scars simply wouldn’t quit, not tonight. The threat of being burned again had renewed the sensations, though some part of her knew it was psychosomatic.
Ripping off her shirt, Ziese rolled over onto her belly instead, then sat up and simply stared off into the bowels of the ship. Her eyes glazed over as unfelt tears began to brim and sting at her eyes, the memories bubbling up and overwhelming her senses. It took hours for her to calm down and get herself back under control.
Lupa whined and crawled over, sticking her large head into the girl’s lap, demanding petting to help her pull herself further away from the past. With a blank look, she sighed down at the canine. “I’ll have to be more careful of business partners in the future is all...”
What would Zeise do if she came face to face with any of the Silverfeathers?
I’ll have to answer this for Ziese, as luckily, it’ll never happen at this point, at least not in a manner she’d recognize.
But if she ever saw that bastard again, or anything that looked like him...the poor thing would freeze up entirely and go into a state of gibbering terror.
Voices filtered in and around her, almost tangible enough to snatch out of the air. Familiar, but not. They made bright sparks in the darkness, and she desperately tried to cling to them.
Blood loss...
Memories started to crowd out the words, intermingling with one another. At first, they were just sensations. A sharp bite here, searing agony there. But then, emotions started to intertwine with the tangible sensations. Fear, such paralyzing fear. Gibbering terror. Shame.
Infection...
Now images began to form in her mind’s eye, accompanied by sounds, giving the memories life. Metal clanged on metal with grunts of pain accompanying it. The acrid scent of gunpowder burned the inside of her nasal passages. The scent swiftly changed, to one of burned hair and flesh, the bright flashes of muzzles firing in a dark passage fading to a simple dark room.
Light flooded in from the hidden door, temporarily blinding her as always, for she refused to look away from it except when she slept...or was unconscious. The bare stone floor was illuminated, showing dark stains. Stains the skin and bones waif were all too familiar with. She traced the newer patterns briefly, before torches set into the walls flared to life at a flick of the male’s hand. Hardened green eyes scanned the room, settling upon her seated in a corner. How long had it been since his last visit? It felt like only hours.
“Ah, there you are.” A smile she had come to see as terrifying curled his thin lips. She clutched futilely at the rags that hung to her form, her back settling against the wall and causing her to jump.
“Ah, ah, sweeting you’ll only hurt yourself.” He stalked across the room after securing the door behind him. Thin, elegant fingers wrapped in the dirty blonde strands and hauled her upwards. She met his eyes, tears threatening to spill from the sudden shock of pain on her scalp, hands clawing up to instinctively relieve the pressure. “And that’s my job.”
Dragging her by the hair, the elder elf threw her face down on the cold stone table in the middle of the room, the only feature save the torches. It was sloped gently towards one end, and that’s where the majority of the stains originated. An invisible pressure closed against her wrists, neck, and waist, pinning her down. The signal to her mind to shut down was the closing of that same pressure over the backs of her thighs, legs dangling off the edge of the table.
Feather light touches caressed her back, pushing away the rags that had long ago stopped covering her flesh in that area. “Oh, no. Sweeting. I allow you that from time to time, but not today. Today, you shall feel everything.” A sharp prick was felt at her shoulder, and within moments her entire body was hyper sensitized. She could no longer ignore what her nerves were telling her was happening by forcing her body into a state of numb shock. A low wail of despair broke from her lips.
“That’s it. There’s my perfect fuck toy. Nice and awake now, are we? Good...” Searing agony scorched her back, in the most literal sense, as flames licked down her bared skin. A scream echoed in the small room, bouncing off the walls and setting her ears to flickering. Was that her? She had no time to contemplate as something nudged her most intimate area. Nausea roiled through her, something she hadn’t felt in months.
“Nothing more than a hole to fuck. No wonder your parents got themselves killed. You’re worthless otherwise.” He grunted and shoved deeper, pain flaring along her insides at the dry dragging sensation, skin rubbing against skin. She dry heaved, unable to even hump her body up to curl her stomach in on itself like it wanted to.
Another roil of flame burst over her back, licking at the ends of her hair. She’d learned over the months...or was it a year now of this treatment, that inhaling through her mouth was the best way to avoid the smell of her own flesh sizzling. But as her body was trying to expel an empty belly, reactions kicked in and she was forced to breath in through her nose. It only sent another cramping wave of sickness through her.
A groan sounded in her ears, that slapping sound of flesh on flesh growing louder. The flames had served to momentarily block out what else was happening in the tiny hidden room. Bile bit her tongue and the sores on her cracked lips from dehydration. Another searing line burned across her shoulders, and then the hot, wet sensation flooded her dry sex. She heaved again as the pale, older elf pulled back. He always liked to examine his work when he was finished.
Blisters were bubbling up under her skin, the residual effects of whatever he’d injected into her blood stream letting her know full well the after affects. She lay still, a limp broken doll, until he pressed a finger down against one of the burns. “It’s almost complete, whore. My master piece burned into your flesh.”
She loathed to think of what would happen when he did finish it. The fire mage had complete mastery over his art, and she wondered if he’d simply flip her over to start marking her front. Ornate robes filled her blurred vision, her head lifted slightly again by her hair to look up at him. She wasn’t sure what consumed her, as it had never worked in past. “Uncle...please..”
The patriarch of the Silverfeather line simply laughed.
She barely twitched as the memories replayed over and over in her mind, unable to block them out as she normally could by now. Sweat stood out on her skin, dampening her hair...but not a cry was heard from the dock rat that lay tucked into the cot. Only the wolf, Lupa, whined occasionally, giving the young woman a lick now and then, as if begging her to wake.
Strolling into the inn as if she owned the place was a new feeling for Ziese, but it was hard not to be smug after the evening she’d had. Over one hundred gold coins. Not copper. Gold. She hadn’t even seen that large of an amount of the substance in her life time. After the pains and near incarceration experiences in Booty Bay attempting to scrape together enough coin to purchase the trip to Silvermoon, it was already paying off in spades.
Elven heads turned briefly at the new arrival accompanied by the massive white wolf. Their expressions betrayed their emotions, some interest while others disgust. It mattered little to her. She had coin to pay for a proper bath for a change, and good hot meal in her belly. Her eyes skittered to one shady individual in a darkened corner. Maybe even a little more.
Slinking forward, keeping a hand low to keep Lupa calm, the dock rat signaled the innkeep for his attention. One look at her had his nose wrinkling, a sneer on his lips and the words out of his mouth before she could say a word. “We don’t do charities and I don’t have any work. Get lost.”
With a roll of her eyes, Ziese removed Aela’s stolen coin purse from her belt and shoved it at the innkeep’s chest. The long con had worked, distracting the woman with her antics of trying to get her prepared for Camsyn so she didn’t remember the coin purse at all. “Bath. Stew. I won’t be staying. This should cover it. Call me when the bath is ready. I’ll be over there eating.” She gestured to the same dark corner she’d seen the shady fellow in.
The elf’s eyes went from narrowed to bulging a little, as he opened the purse and peered inside. A swift bow of his head and a mumbled apology had him scurrying to get the food she’d requested. “Two bowls!” She called over her shoulder.
Sliding into a chair near the corner, the wolf sat at her side on the floor, the large head coming up above the table, muzzle resting on it. She scratched behind the canine’s ears lightly, smiling faintly and covertly watching the man across from her. Even as the stew was delivered, she ate and watched, Lupa making soft slurping sounds at her own dinner.
Twice during her meal, someone approached the table, a small deal was made, and the newcomer left with a small smile upon their face. Her glazed eyes were keener than they looked, watching coin change hands and small packages hide under cloaks. Exactly what she was looking for, the coin burning a hole in her pocket.
With her food finished, she slid from the chair and moved into the one across from the shady dealer, peering up under his cloaked hood. She watched a brow arch, and a small smirk cross the man’s scarred features. “What’s your pleasure little one?”
She dropped the two heavy bags of coins from Nikki on the table with a thump and a chink of coin against coin. Tongue between her teeth for a moment, she decided swiftly. “Serpent’s Bloom. As much as that will buy me.” She deserved a treat after how much trouble it had been just to get here and now offering herself up to rush head long into a rescue operation for a pig of a man who called himself Captain.
The dealer reached into his cloak and slid a small package across the table to the waif, which she scooped up just in time for the innkeep to announce her bath was ready. She tucked it away into a pouch on her hip and followed him to finally be actually clean for the first time in weeks.
After luxuriating for over an hour in the steaming water, the Serpent’s Bloom calling her name the entire time, the now clean dock rat practically skipped to the docks to find Camsyn’s ship. There, she scurried aboard and stowed herself below decks in the cargo hold, appropriating a few fine furs for a bed hidden behind some strapped down crates.
Stripped out of the uncomfortable and biting armor, she pulled free the matches and the small packet of pre-rolled Serpent’s Bloom from the pouch that had been on her belt. The first inhale had her coughing, and the wolf behind her head as a pillow growling lightly. She managed to regain her breath, eased her throat from the scratchy irritation and took another hit. She felt the difference immediately, her mind and limbs going loose. A giggle broke from her lips.
The one and only good thing about Booty Bay, the lanky blonde decided as she bedded down under a little used section of dock near the sands of the beach, is that it never really gets cold. Of course, that didn’t stop her from using the large white wolf laying near her as a pillow, even with sweat trickling down the back of her neck in the balmy evening. If it hadn’t been for Captain Cerothyn dunking her in the bay earlier, she might have started to smell ripe...rather than just of decaying fish.
The wolf was used to the scent however, and had taken a protective measure of the elf, never quite leaving her side save for when she needed to move through crowded areas swiftly and silently. Her stomach rumbled, echoing the gurgling she heard in the belly of the canine, and she made a small apologetic noise while rolling over onto her side to gaze into the large yellow eyes. “Sorry Lupa. Wasn’t good pickings tonight. But...we be having a job soon. Long as I can keep it, steady coin means a full belly, yeah?”
A whuffed sigh sounded from the wolf, whom she knew quite well would have done fine hunting in the jungle despite the snow white pelt. But the canine refused to leave Ziese’s side, and Zie..refused to go into the jungle. Not after the last time, where she’d run afoul of a band of Bloodsails creeping into the bay. She shuddered lightly, burrowing her face into the flank of the canine and pushing away the memories. She’d had politer times with those that frequented the seedier taverns in the bay than with that crowd.
Closing her eyes, she tried to ignore the pangs in her stomach and the sweat causing the ripped padding from her beat up armor to cling to her tiny frame. All she had to do was wait a day or two, maybe three...and then she would be set. Repeating the mantra in her mind of patience was how she managed to drift off to sleep, tucked up under that dock with the boots of bruisers, sailors and miscreants thudding above her.
Full Name: Ziese Silverfeather
Nickname(s): Zie, Mess
Age: Mature, roughly 25 H.Y. equivalent
Birthday: January 22
Race: Sin’dorei
Gender: Female
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Romantic Orientation: Straight
Relationship Status: Single
Religion: Nothing
Occupation: Dock Rat
Language(s) Spoken: Thalassian, Orcish
PHYSICAL APPEARANCE
Face Claim: Emma Watson
Hair Color: Dirty Blonde
Eye Color: Fel Green, slightly faded
Height: 5′8″
Build: Skinny
Distinguishing Characteristics: A tattoo that wraps around from her back to her chest, done of a stylized forest scene with wolves. Scar under one eye
PERSONALITY
Positive Traits: Hard worker, loyal
Negative Traits: Dishonest, does whatever she needs to get by
Goals/Desires: Not waking up and wondering where she’s going to get her next meal
Fears: Not sure she feels fear any longer, though the really rough and tumble crowd in Booty Bay make her nervous
Hobbies: Evesdropping, she’d love to have time or resources to read, mostly she ends up finding scraps of papers to dig through
FAMILY
While she is a technical part of the Silverfeather family, a cousin to the Silverfeather siblings Taye and Tala, she has been disowned and forgotten about long ago by any remaining members of this house.
Pet(s): Lupa, wolf
Financial Status: Hahahahaha...she’s dirt poor.
OTHER INFORMATION
Criminal Record: Long, but small time stuff, pick pocketing, thievery.
Drink: Cheap mead if she can’t steal any better
Smoke: Can’t afford them on a regular basis
Drugs: She sometimes gets thistle in trade, and hopes she’ll get more in future.
The knock upon the door roused the enchanter from a light slumber, enough to tumble his hair into a mess upon his head, but not enough for true rest. That hadn’t come in ages. He rose and pulled a robe about his form securely, pacing the small distance from the bed to the door in the small room he’d been renting, he threw it wide with little concern for murderers or thieves. He’d simply set them alight.
With luck, it was a courier. Possibly with the Minx’s reply. Signaling the young man to wait in case a return message was needed, he shut the door and flipped open the folded bit of parchment.
A quick scan had his brows raising. “Right to business then..” He set the note aside and grabbed a fresh parchment, not bothering to sit to scrawl the hasty response.
Minx,
No charms. I am in need of information, and have the feeling you may have the means for me to get my hands upon it. Meet me at the Spire tomorrow on the third bell of the afternoon.
Again, he left it unsigned, and with a bit of coin, set the courier on his way again. With that, he promptly dropped upon the bed again on his back, staring blankly at the ceiling and preparing himself for another restless night.
It had been months since she last spoke to him, she remembered tossing each gift away that had been sent. She read over the letter in hand, her head canting to the side and she instantly wondered what he wanted from her. She thought their little game was long over, especially after she cut ties with Ravenwood and went back to the Lotus.
A long sigh was exhaled and she crumpled the letter up in her hand and watched as the flames quickly burned it into nothing more than mere ash. She turned her hand over and let whatever remains fall to the ground of the city before dusting her hand off.
Iriseli entered the lounge and placed both hands on the bar. She didn’t even know what to say to him if she replied. Her gaze trailed to a piece of paper resting beside her and her hand waved over it before returning back to place. A quill began scrawling away at it.
“To say I noticed your absence would be a pointless lie.
I thought our little game was long over, because to me it ended when you no longer became useful and I cut ties with the merry little band you sought after.
So, I’ll ask, what is it you want? I’ll meet you in the city, but if you dance around my question with your “charm” this will be the last you hear of me.
- Iriseli.”
She folded the letter and placed it inside an envelope, shoving it into his courier’s chest afterward. “Do get that to him,” was all she said before going back inside.
The trip of Silvermoon had been frustrating in it’s lack of fruition. High, low, anywhere about the Row and it’s darkened passages, the enchanter had no luck in spotting the minx who he’d fenced with on idle occasion. Perhaps she’d left the city for good, perhaps his luck really was in that much of a bad streak. He’d kept his distance from Zeddicus, despite being disguised with a glamour that had him as a blonde, threadbare pauper, scurrying about the shadows.
It was time to take a calculated risk.
Little Minx,
Please forgive my absence, there were matters that needed tending, and kept my attention away from admiring your quick tongue. I promise, I have the ability to possibly make it up to you, if you would come meet me. If you wish to meet or not, send a reply with the courier, so I will be made aware either way.
He left the letter unsigned, for as far as he was aware, the enchanter had been the only one to call her minx. Fizsy tugged at the hem of the finely tailored robes just as he was carefully folding the parchment for the courier he would call upon later to deliver the message.
“How much longer?” The irritating creature wailed, eager to get on with the chaos.
With a roll of his eyes, Tala nudged the imp away from his ankle with a booted toe. “Patience. We must have patience. Without the correct information, everything could go to hell, and not in our favor.” Even while he spoke the words, however, the enchanter had to take consultation in his own words, the lack of progress clawing rampantly at his twisted need for vengeance.
