The Slave Trade (Open Thread)

[Cyrith]

Cyrith was just as disgusted as Rawhide was about the appearace of the girls, but she kept her disgust hidden. She had expected them to look bad, but not this bad. Some even looked too weak to stand up but struggled to do so. One wa already kicked for just tripping and she did not doubt one would not get a kick for falling over. The man claimed the girls worked just fine in their health but Cyrith found that very hard to believe. Old Timer would be very busy when it comes time to feed these girls. Cyrith doubted that they had anything to eat during their journey here.

All I would have to do to kill you would be to snap my fingers and Gisela would slit your through before you even heard the snap.
Cyrith would have eyed Rawhide and raised a bow at him for his choice of words. He went a little overboard with them. Instead, she just crossed her arms and grinned arrogantly, as if though proud of herself. She had actually hoped that they would not want any sort of test from her or anything because she was not that fast, but the boss just smiled and pulled one girl foward, an older girl, who looked a little tougher than the rest. She looked at the girl, it was no doubt that red heads were feisty and can made some vicious fighters. Rawhide looked pleased with the girl and looked to Cyrith for her thought. She is exactly the kind of girl I'm looking for. Don't you agree Gisela? Cyrith nodded. "Yes master," she replied.

[Morhin]

Morhin stepped forward and looked the girl in the eyes. "What is your name?" He asked. The girl just stared at him with a defiant look on her face and said nothing. The slave boss shook her and yelled, "Answer him!" Morhin pushed the man aside and looked at the girl again. "What is your name?" The girl just gave him a cocky smile and raised an eyebrow, as if to say she was unimpressed with him and that he would not even get her name from her. The slaver was getting angry now. He took a many thronged whip and said, "I'll get her to lose that cocky grin and show some respect." Morhin grabbed his wrist and twisted it behind him. The slave boss yelped in pain and dropped the whip. "These are my slaves now." Morhin said coldly. "And I will decide when the are to be whipped." He let go of the man and stepped back, waiting to see if the slave boss would attack. Morhin pushed back part of his cloak to reveal his right side. There his silver handled whip and elven knife were visible. At that moment there was a gasp. Morhin turned to see that the red haired girl was staring at his whip and was trembling. Not in fear, but in rage.

Suddenly, the whole plan fell apart. Another guard had come up close to the red head and was about to move her back with the other girls when red attacked. The guard was caught completely unprepared. As he approached, red elbowed him in the stomach and grabbed a knife that was on his belt. In one swift motion, red cut her bonds and slashed at the man's face. He jerked back in pain. It wasn't a fatal cut, but it was a nasty one. All this happened so quickly that no one had time to react. Instead of running away, red stared straight at Morhin. Morhin saw in her eyes a burning hate, one that he himself had in his own eyes before. Red screamed, "Tatteyen! Murdering Tatteyen!" And suddenly attacked Morhin. Any other time, Morhin would have quickly reacted and defended himself. But this slave girl whom he was trying to rescue was attacking him. But that was not what gave him pause. It was what she had called him. Tatteyen? The Tatteyen were Morhin's most hated enemy. They had murdered his father, were trying to tear the country apart, and he believed them to be behind the slave trade. But there was little time to dwell on it for red was almost to him and Morhin still to shocked to react.

[Cyrith]

Several times, Rawhide asked for the girl's name and each time she refused to give it. He showed to have more patience than the boss who much prefer to whip the girl for not obeying and acting cocky. This girl clearly did not seem to care, but Cyrith on the other hand knew better and would not dare disobey or defy her master. She had assumed that she was trying to act tough because she was older, she did not know. The red head went from being disobedient and cocky, to angry and violent which had caught everyone off guard, even the guards themselves. None would have though that a small slave could be as fast as her and have much fight in her. She attacked the guards and cut herself free. Cyrith had expected the plan to go wrong, but this was not what she had in mind. It would have been the slavers realized that they were being a setup and not one of the slaves going on a violent rampage. This she was not prepared for.

Cyrith saw Rawhide to have fast speed, or so she had thought. Yet, he would not move the angry red headed girl came charging after him. Why won't he move? Was it because she had called him one of the Tatteyen? Those he so bitterly hated? He was obvious in too much shock for his mind to tell him to defend himself. She had to be the one to right? Of course, no one else was going to. With only a split second left, she pushed Rawhide out of the path of the angry girl but she took too long to react and Cyrith ended up being stabbed in the arm. However with her good arm, she was still able to grab the girl's wrist in an attempt to take the knife away from her. The girl proved stronger than Cyrith had thought and was also very reckless. After a few moments, Cyrith finally managed to released the weapon from the girl's hand.

[Morhin]

Morhin was alert now. Cyrith had acted like a true bodyguard and had pushed him out of the way. After a brief struggle, Cyrith had the slave girl disarmed. Cyrith had been wounded and Morhin hoped it wasn't serous. He silently cursed himself for not have acting sooner. But perhaps this was best. The slavers would think him a easy pray and might let there guard down.

Having been disarmed, the girl just stood there. Staring angrily at Morhin. Knowing that he had to act fast to avoid suspicion, Morhin pulled out his whip and cracked it above his head. The slavers were moving in to extract there revenge on the rebellious girl but at the sound of Morhin's whip they stopped short. The red headed girl, who a moment ago stood so defiant, suddenly looked afraid. She cowered down with her arms raised above her head. Morhin was surprised. The girl had attack fearlessly, but now she was cowering like the other girls. Something was wrong, things just didn't feel right.

Although he hated the idea, Morhin knew he had to whip the girl or the slavers would suspect something was wrong. Raising his whip, Morhin muttered something in an ancient tongue and through the whip towards the girl. Morhin had been surprised before when the girl had taken the knife from her masters and attacked him with it, but nothing would have prepared him for what happened next.

Morhin's whip had belonged to his father, Rohas. In the short time that he knew him, Morhin had learned that it was no ordinary whip. Although Morhin had never been able to confirm it, it was believed to have been a whip made by the elves long ago during the wars against Morgoth. The whip had been a gift to the Easterlings and wilded by one of those who remained faithful during the Battle of Unnumbered Tears. With a word, the whip would hold on to things and not let go unless another word was spoken. It would crack much louder than other whips and could lash at someone, but not leave any sting. Only his father had know the words of command and had taught them to his son. Having been raised by the elves, Morhin knew the words and with practice, had even learned some new commands.

As he lashed out at the girl, Morhin had commanded the whip not to harm her. As the whip stuck the girl she suddenly grabbed on to it and yelled in the same tongue Morhin had used. The whip suddenly went limp and with a tug was jerked out of his hands. The girl stood holding the whip and cracked it once over her head. Seeing that things were getting way out of hand, the slavers attacked her. There was no way she would fight back against all of them. But for one brief moment, all the guards were focused on the rebelling slave girl. And that was when Morhin chose to strike.

[Cyrith]

Cyrith wanted to scold Rawhide for not paying much better attention, but she had to hold that back and save it for later. If she had popped off, Cyrith would have been in trouble and it would have been the end of their plan. She knew full well he would have able to save himself, but instead he just stood there, leaving her to come to his aid. She had no choice either. She was a pretend bodyguard and she had to act like one, even if it meant throwing herself in front of a weapon. Although it honestly was the last thing that she wanted to do.

This girl was dangerous, Cyrith thought. She was not normal either. Cyrith began to wonder if was a wise idea to even aid this red-headed girl. She had already proven that she had what it took to try and kill someone. What struck Cyrith odd was that she was wild and violent one moment, then suddenly look afraid the next. What would happen when or if it came time to aid the children, will the child still attempt to attack them? She thought this would be a much easier task.

Cyrith did not pay any mind to the stab wound in her arm. It hardly hurt so she ignored it. If she were to play a good bodyguard, she was sure she had to act tough and see the little stab wound as nothing. After all, Rawhide spoke her stronger than she really was so she had to try and pull that off and not show anyway weakness. And truthfully, the stab wound was almost nothing to the former slave. Cyrith wanted to draw her sword but she was unsure if she the authority to do so.

The whip. Rawhide pulled it out, prepared to use it the girl. Cyrith hated seeing the weapon but she held it all back and acted as if the site of it did not bother her. Her eyes went wide when she saw the girl take a hold of the whip, shouting in a language that she did not understand. Watching Rawhide's weapon go limp left Cyrith in even more shock. Who or for that matter, what was this girl? Once she managed to get a handle on the whip and crack it in the air, Cyrith came to terms with her thoughts on the wild child. "Master, this girl is dangerous," she said before the slavers attacked the redhead.

[Morhin]

Master, this girl is dangerous. Morhin turned to Cyrith and said, “You ain’t kidding.” Things had gotten completely out of hand now. Morhin was more interested in just who this girl was than anything else and if he didn’t act fast, she would be killed. With a quick nod to Cyrith, Morhin attacked. One of the slavers raised his halberd to deal a fatal blow against the rebelling slave girl. Morhin reached into his left gauntlet and pulled out a throwing knife which he let fly. It lodged itself in the halberd’s neck, killing him instantly.

The place became complete pandemonium. Morhin drew his sword and ran it through the closest slaver before he even knew he was under attack. Two of the slavers saw him attack and were ready to fight back. Morhin parried the first slavers attack and slashed at the second. He slash was blocked he quickly disengaged, moved his blade underneath the slavers sword and sliced a deep cut into the man’s leg. He crumpled in pain and Morhin spun around quickly to block the first man’s attack.

The red headed slave girl was holding her own. She was shocked when the man with the halberd had fallen dead and that slave buyer and his slave bodyguard were attacking her captors. She didn't call them her masters, even in her mind. She was no slave, no matter what they called her. Not sure just who these buyers were, she decided that as long as they tied up some of the slavers, that was fine by her. If they kill each other then that would be even better. But she was going to get herself, and the others out of here. How? She hadn’t the foggiest. But she’d get as many of them freed as she could. If she was killed, well, she’d make sure that she didn't go to the afterlife alone.

[Cyrith]

When Rawhide nodded, Cyrith knew that that was a sign. Everything had fallen apart, as she suspected. Rawhide wasted no time in killing the man that nearly claimed the red-head's life. There was no such thing as a slave trade that went as planned. It was foolish to think this one would, but Cyrith knew it would not go according to plan. The rebellious red-headed girl only made the situation worse. If she had simply just done what she was told, it probably would not have turned entirely this way. Stupid girl. She sighed silently and prepared for a fight. The young slave girls screamed as the fight broke out.

Cyrith quickly drew her sword. While Rawhide was busy with the slavers, Cyrith eyed the guards at the door. Her biggest concern was getting the girls out of the crossfire. She knew that they would up end being killed. Ready to fight, she charged at the guards who already had their own swords drawn. But Cyrith quickly found herself in a bit of trouble, she was already at a slight disadvantage with a wounded arm. She had to get to the door and she had to think of a plan but she had no time to think of one. If she could only distract a couple of the guards but she thought of nothing that could. She had to think as she went.

She raised her sword made a quick kill of the two guard nearest to her. Cyrith wounded another guard, slicing his right side and then she ran for the door, but another guard pushed her to the ground, landing on her back. He took up his sword and brought it down toward her. She raised her sword and blocked the guard's attack. Cyrith may have been strong but he was much stronger than her and Cyrith was not very tall and this man was very large next to her. She managed to kick the guard hard in the stomach, leaving him clutching it in pain. Cyrith rose to her feet and ran her sword through him. At this point she was able to make it towards the door and opened it.

Cyrith turned around in time hearing the girls screaming once again as one of the last guards took one of them by the hair, cutting her throat. "No!!" Cyrith cried out. This is what she was trying to prevent. She knew that the guards would not hesitate in killing the girls if need be, but she was not fast enough. Cyrith ran toward the guard and made a quick kill out of him. She grabbed the arm of one of the terrified girls and pulled her to her feet. "Get up!" she demanded. "Run for the door! Now!" As that girl ran, Cyrith raised another girl to her feet and made her follow suit.

Before the last few of the girls were even out the door, Cyrith felt something hit her right in the back. It was cold, like steel, and pierced through her skin. There was a knife back. It hurt. She found herself unable to speak or make a sound. She slowly turned to see that it had been the wounded guard. He was grinning, proud of his hit. Cyrith cursed silently for having been able to kill him. She brought her arms behind her back, wanting to pull the knife out, but she couldn't reach it. She quickly began to loose consciousness and once everything went black all around her, she fell to the ground.

[Morhin]

Morhin blocked another attack and then went back on the offensive. He parried the slaver’s sword out of the way then, still holding the man’s sword out of line, Morhin turned so his back was to the man. With his left hand, Morhin drew his knife and laid it across his forearm, so that it covered the entire arm and stuck out two inches past the elbow. Since his back was to the slaver the man didn’t see the knife being drawn. Morhin elbowed the man in neck, killing him. The other man whom Morhin had wounded in the leg was trying to get up. Morhin made sure that he never rose again.

Morhin heard a scream and turned in time to see one of the slavers kill one of the slave girls. Cursing, Morhin started to run towards them but was suddenly hit from behind. He staggered and tried to stay on his feet but couldn’t and fell to one knee. His vision was cloudy but he was able to turn around and see what had hit him. Standing behind him, holding a club, was the slave boss. The big man laughed as another slave girl was killed. That laughter burned Morhin. His anger made his vision clearer and he lunged at the slave boss. But before Morhin could reach him, another man stepped in front of him and blocked Morhin’s sword. Before Morhin knew what was happening, the man had parried his sword right out of Morhin’s hand. Morhin quickly switched his knife to his left hand and was just able to block thrust that would have killed him.

Morhin suddenly found himself in a deadly knife fight. The man who had blocked his attack and disarmed him must be a deadly with a knife to have disarmed him so quickly. Morhin was master with knives, but this man was good, very good. Morhin soon had several small cuts on his hands and arms where he almost had failed to parry an attack. After several minuets of deadly fighting, the two knifemen became locked in a death struggle. Morhin had gotten a hold of the knifeman’s wrist and was trying to push his knife off line. The knifeman in turn had a hold of Morhin’s wrist and was doing the same. Both men were trying to out muscle the other by moving their opponents blade off line and then dealing a fatal thrust with their own blade.

Although Morhin was probably the stronger of the two, he was at a disadvantage because his knife was so large. It was easier to push off line than the other man’s smaller dagger. And Morhin had another problem. His grip on the man’s wrist was becoming weak. The cut he had given himself sharpening Cyrith’s sword had reopened and was bleeding again. It made his grip slippery. He had to act fast because he was about to lose his hold on the man. Morhin suddenly dropped and fell back wards, pulling the man with him. The man was caught off balance for a moment and with that moment Morhin freed his own knife and ran it into the man just under his arm. The knifeman gave a choked cry of pain and then died.

The red haired girl had just begun to free the other girls when she was grabbed from behind. One of the slavers snuck up behind her, grabbed the whip out of her hands and wrapped it around her neck. Another slaver began to kill the slave girls. Red tried to scream but she couldn’t. The slaver was strangling her. Red fought, but her darkness began to creep into her vision. She fought down the panic that had begun to rise within her for she knew that once panic set in she would have no escape. Her vision narrowed even more until all she could see was a little shiny object lying on the floor in front of her. Her mind suddenly recognized it and with one last burst of strength, she grabbed the knife and blindly stuck it behind her. The pressure on her throat eased just enough for her to speak.

What she said wasn’t audible but suddenly all the pressure on her throat was gone. The whip had suddenly gone lose in the slaver’s hands and the girl quickly slipped through it. She quickly took hold of the whip and wrapped it around the slaver’s neck. Any other time and the man would have been able to break the weak girl’s hold, but the strange red headed girl spoke in a long forgotten language and the whip suddenly tightened on it’s own around the man’s neck. The man panic almost immediately which caused him to lose consciousness much faster than the girl had.

The red headed girl quickly looked around and saw that the stranger’s bodyguard had killed the slavers blocking the door and had freed most of the other girls. But one of the slavers whom she had obviously wounded but not killed had stuck a knife in her back. Although she didn’t know who these people were, red decided that she wouldn’t let the slavers kill her. Picking up the whip and the knife from the dead slaver, red attacked. She through the whip around the man’s neck and jerked him backwards. He had been too preoccupied with his supposed kill that he hadn’t know test red until it was too late. As he fell, red sprang on him and slit his throat with the knife.
Gathering the whip red knelt by the wounded woman. Checking her pulse told her that the woman was alive, just barely. The wound was fare beyond her skill, and probably anyone else’s skill. But she wouldn’t leave this woman to die in here, not after she had freed the others.


OOC: Forgive the lenght, but I really got into it as I was writing it and couldn't stop.

[Cyrith]

(Hello, I'm still alive)

(That's fine, mine's just going to be much shorter though, an unconscious person cannot do too much)

Cyrith slowly opened her eyes and blinked several times. Her vision was a little blurred and her back ached terribly. She could even feel the wetness of the blood seeping through to her clothing. She must have only been knocked out for a few minutes, for the fight was still taking place. Despite the knife in her back, she lifted her hand and pressed her palm into the ground, trying to push herself up, but to no avail, she was much too weak and lost much blood. She cursed at herself. Cyrith then looked up and saw the redheaded girl kneeling before her. This made her angry. For all Cyrith knew, it had been her that had stuck the knife in her back. It was her fault the fight had broken out, and the that one of the other slave girls had been killed. If this stupid girl had just simply did what she was told, none have this would have happened.

She felt like she had failed. Their mission was the save the girls and prevent any sort of fight, but they had to bring the redheaded girl. She had not been trained well. Any smart slave would know better. They were trained to obey and do everything that they are told to do. If one did what they were told to do, nothing bad would happen to them or anyone else. But she was disobedient and a disobedient slave could easily get themselves killed. She girl did not seem to fear such. These days were supposed to be falsely purchased to the Warmaster and a former slave bent on freedom for all her kind. Sadly, one of these girls did not live to see her freedom. That is where Cyrith believed she had failed. She had to get to the others, she had to aid Rawhide.

Rawhide was still in battle with the slave traders. His wounded that she had tended to for him had reopened and was bleeding again. He was now finding it difficult to hold onto his sword. Cyrith had to get up. He needed her help, but Cyrith probably would not stand much of a chance, but she was very stubborn and would still fight even if it killed her. She tried to call out to him, but it came out as nothing but a hoarse whisper. He was half-elven but she was not sure how strong his hearing was and battling to stay alive against the slave traders. With the loss of blood, she had a hard time pushing herself up and was too weak to call out. As much as she wanted to just grab little red by the neck and ring it, Cyrith again attempted to reach behind her back, wanting to remove the knife, but again, she could not reach it. She hoped the that the girl was smart enough to take a hint but she did not appear so. She was checking her pulse and not removing the knife. "Take it out!" she whispered painfully.

[Morhin]

Take it out!
The slave girl jumped in surprise. She hadn't expected the women to still be alive, much less able to speak. Red nodded, and took a hold of the knife. It was slick with the woman's blood, but the girl got a good purchus on it and pulled. The knife came out, and with it, a rush of blood. Though she was no apothecary, the girl knew that she had to try to stop the bleeding. Quickly, she grabbed a handful of the woman's cloak, balled it up and held it tight against the wound.

Keeping pressure on it with one hand, Red took the whip and slipped it under the woman's chest. She folded the cloak until it was a decent size, then tied the whip around it. Red spoke and suddenly the whip tightened. She was careful not to make it so tight that the woman couldn't breath, just tight enough to keep the pressure on the wound.

Morhin pushed the knife man's dead body off him and got back on his feet. He quickly dropped back down as the slave boss took another swing at him with a club. Morhin set his feet and lunged, tackling the big man to the ground. The slave boss struggled for a moment, then lay still as Morhin held his knife to his throat. If the man was afraid he hid it well, Morhin had to admit. But he would soon know real fear. "Do you know who I am?" The words were dark and cold. He had hid it well before, but now the man began to sweet. "Your just another slaver like me." He said, but there was some fear in his voice now.

Morhin was silent. For several moments he made no sound, no movement, but his knife was ever at the man's throat. Then Morhin laughed, but it was cold and evil. "I am Rawhide, Grand Warmaster of Rhun." The voice sounded almost demonic. The slaver began to shake. He was truly afraid now. "I will skin you alive and feed your carcass to the birds." Despite the blade at his neck, the slaver tried to fight, tried to get away. Maybe he could slit his throat on Rawhide's knife and escape the Warmaster's wrath. But Rawhide was too fast, he moved the knife and brought the handle down on the man's skull, knocking him out.

Rawhide stood. For a moment, he was tempted to kill the man right then. He looked around and knowest that the red haired girl was bent over Cyrith and reMembered that she had been wounded. Retrieving his sword, Rawhide walked over to the to the girl who turned toward him with a knife in her hand. Rawhide returned his knife to it's sheaf and held out an empty palm. "Stand down girl. I am not your enemy." Ignoring her, Rawhide knelt beside of Cyrith and examined the wound. He was intrigued my this girls ability to use his whip, but that would have to wait. Cyrith was mortally wounded and he wondered if even he had the skill to tend her.

Keeping pressure on the wound, Rawhide picked Cyrith up and cared her outside. The slave girls she had freed were huddled together by a hay stack. Great. thought Rawhide, Cyrith is so badly hurt that she may not make it and I've got all these girls to worry about now. Rawhide thought fast. He gently laid Cyrith down. "Girl!" He called as he drew his knife and began to cut his cloak into strips. Red slowly moved toward him and looked at him with the same defiant gaze she had before. Rawhide paused a moment and held her gaze, then spoke. Softly, but with authority. "You may not trust me and I don't blame you. But hear me. I am Rawhide, Grand Warmaster of Rhun. I came here tonight to free you girls and to find out who is at the head of the slave trade." He nodded toward the other slave girls and continued. "Those girls need help. And so does she." Rawhide said indicating Cyrith. He released the whip with a word and began to tie the strips of his cloak around the wound. Without looking up Rawhide gave instructions. "I need you to take my horse and ride to the town. Go to the Eye of Rhun Inn. The inn keeper is a friend of mine and is expecting us. Tell him that the Warmaster is ready. He knows what to do. Now go!"

[Cyrith]

If Cyrith had the strength, she would have laughed for startling Red, for she had already hated this insolent girl, but she had already wasted what tiny bit of strength she had just to tell the stupid girl to remove the knife from her back. She gritted her teeth and hissed painfully as the knife was carefully pulled from her back. She wouldn’t deny to herself that she felt better then, but the rush of blood the followed only had left Cyrith feeling very light-headed and dizzy, a sign she had lost too much blood. She fought to stay conscious as long as she could but she knew that she would lose the fight.

She had failed the mission. Cyrith made it her job to free the young girls and keep them alive. The one that was killed this day didn’t even get a chance to be free before she died and could have been born a slave like she was. She couldn’t stand failure. If she had failed at anything, she honestly wouldn’t be able to survive in the world like she had, having had to master the skill of many things in order to achieve survival. She was just too proud to admit that she couldn’t do everything perfectly. Cyrith was sure that she wouldn’t live much longer. She never did truly care if she lived or died. She always knew if that she were to die, this is how it would be. Slain by another person’s hands and not a natural death.

Cyrith normally could not stand children. She thought them loud, annoying, and cried too much. Oh, the crying she hated the most, especially when they wailed. The only reason she saw pity towards these children and do what she could to save them was because they came from the same life she did. Whether some were born as slaves or recent captures, it made no difference. Despite the fact that she disliked children, Cyrith didn’t want to see anymore of them live a life of brutality.

As Rawhide picked up and quickly carried her outside, she tried to speak but no words would come out. She was too weak and had no strength left, she even attempted to reach an arm out, trying to get his attention in some way, but she could not move it. Cyrith would have told him to leave her behind and let her die. Her life was not worth the trouble trying to save. She honestly thought he should pay more mind to the girls and not her, except for Red, she thought. The stupid girl’s defiance had caused all this trouble. One girl was dead because of it and Cyrith was near death. A pity she couldn't have killed that wild child herself. It wasn't long before Cyrith could not stay awake any longer. Her body went limp as she slipped into unconsciousness.

[Morhin]

Rawhide looked up at the other slave girls huddled together by the haystack. He pointed to one and commanded, "You. Come here." The girl hesitated a moment then walked forward, trying to keep the same defined look on her face as Red had. Apparently Red is their leader. Rawhide thought. She's got grit, I'll give her that. Rawhide gestured for the girl to kneel beside him, then took her hands and pressed them against Cyrith's back. "Hold pressure against the wound until I return." The girl looked ill, but nodded.

Quickly, Rawhide stood and ran back to his horse before Red rode off. Removing his saddle bags, Rawhide quickly and quietly spoke to his horse then sent him and Red running toward town. Rawhide watched them ride off, briefly wondering if the girl would ride off and not come back.

Returning with the saddle bags, Rawhide staggered and almost fell beside Cyrith. He suddenly realized that he had been hurt worse than he had originally thought. He had several cuts on his arms and hands, some of them deep. He also had a nasty cut along his temple where he'd been hit with the slave boss's club. Pushing both the pain and the weariness from his mind he set to work. Rawhide removed a bottle of medicine from his saddle bags and gently raised Cyrith's head. Though she was unconscious, he still poured a little into her mouth. Rawhide whispered, "Don't give in. Live. There are still those who need you. Live."

Red rode toward the town as fast as she could, a hundred thought racing through her mind. Ulfang's black bones. Was that really the Warmaster of Rhun? She wasn't sure, she wanted to believe it. If he was, and he was the kind of man she had heard about, then maybe... No that was her fight. She would find those who had taken everything from her. First her father, then her mother and then finally, her sister. Shada pushed aside those thoughts for now. She had to focus on what lay ahead of her now.

It wasn't long before Shada reached the town. She quickly found the Eye of Rhun inn and ran inside. The place was empty. She was about to call out when someone grabbed her from behind. "Why Red, what are you doing here? Did you run away from your new master already?" Shada knew the voice that spoke and it chilled her. She tried to scream but the man placed his hand over her mouth. "Ah, ah. Don't make to much noise, you might wake somebody up." He grabbed her by her hair and jerked it. Shada screamed in pain. "Now who's horse was that? Why are you here?" He jerked her hair again. "You have cause me a lot of trouble you know. I'm beginning to wonder if I shouldn't just kill you now instead of sending you back to your new master. But..." He leaned in and smelled her hair. Shada struggled harder against his grip, but he was too strong. "I always thought that you might be worth keeping, at least for some pleasure. Since you are here and all, I think I will have a little fun." He kissed Shada and added, "If you behave, I'll let you live." He laughed as he began to drag her up the stairs to a room. Shada struggled and fought, but she didn't have the strength. She had been through too much already tonight and just couldn't fight back.

[Cyrith]

- I'm going to jump a head a little here, since I cannot write anything with a character that's not alert -

Cyrith slowly opened her eyes. She then blinked twice but she could not see, for her vision was quite blurred. The last thing she had remembered was being carried off by Rawhide after she was wounded during the fight with the slave traders. She hadn’t any idea on how long she was unconscious for. She tried to move but she couldn’t. Cyrith’s body was too weak. She opened her mouth to try to speak but found she couldn’t do that either. She heard someone moving nearby and then footsteps approaching her and a voice saying, “Ah, I see you are finally awake, child.” Although Cyrith could not see this person, she could tell she was an old woman just by the way she talked. “You have been asleep for two days child, we weren’t sure if you were going to survive or not.”

A kindly old woman who had was a high skilled healer arrived to look at Cyrith’s wound. She was shocked at all the scar marks on her back. At first, she was not aware that Cyrith was a formal slave until she had to cut the clothing to her upper body off to tend to her wound. She even removed her leather wrist guard that Cyrith always wore. It was then that she discovered her tattoo. In the girl’s best interest, the old woman recovered it with the guard and left it as that. She pitied her. Slavery was a worse fate that what the old woman originally thought had happened to her.

Cyrith wondered where the children were, and if they were alright. She then wondered where the Warmaster was, for he too was wounded in the fight. Not that she actually cared for him or the girls, she was just curious. And little Red, she would kill that child. Curse that stupid child! Cyrith again, tried to move. She wanted to try lifting herself up, but the old woman noticed her actions. “No no child!” she said quickly. “You musn’t try getting up yet, you are much too weak. It will be a while before you will able to get out of bed. Are you lucky to actually still be able to walk after that blow your back. That knife just missed your spine.”

“The Warmaster has been asking about you,” the old woman informed Cyrith. She looked up at the old woman with her blurry eyes, raised an eyebrow, as if though were silently questioning those words. “Aye child, he seemed concerned about you, wondering if you were going to live or not. Worried about you he was.” Cyrith blinked. Why would he worry this much? No matter, she thought once she was allowed on her feet again, she would most certainly gather her things and return to the wild where she belonged. She helped aid Rawhide and felt no more of use to be around. Cyrith almost couldn’t wait to get away from these people. Perhaps when old timer is not looking, she would steal what she could grab for food. Yes, she would still steal from him despite the circumstance, she was a thief after all and will steal from anyone.

“Are you hungry, child?” Old woman asked. “You should try to eat something to gain your strength. I will go get you something light, soup perhaps.” She then turned and left the room closing the door behind her. Child, child, child! For goodness sake, she had a name! Had the Warmaster failed to mention that? Or did she just like calling her that? Cyrith was a little annoyed now. While Old woman was gone, Cyrith tried to shift slightly but couldn’t. She was not comfortable laying on her stomach and didn’t want to remain on it, but it didn’t appear as if she had a choice.

[Morhin]

At that moment, Rawhide entered the room. He looked different. His face was grim and hard. It wasn't just the cuts and scars or the fact that his arm was in a sling. He looked more like the Easterling warlord than the half-breed seen just a few days ago. He looked Cyrith over, noting the new bandages on her back that the old woman had recently changed. He sat down in a chair near the bed and was silent for a long time. Just starring off into the distance.

After a time, his face softened a little. As if he had had a burden removed. He finally broke the silence. "I see you have finally woken up. I was beginning to think that you weren't. How are you feeling?" He adjusted the sling his arm was in then added. "You were of great help to me. Thank you. I want to reward you, but I'll wait until you have recovered. " Rawhide paused a moment. "I suppose your wondering what happened? Well, the slavers are dead save the three we captured. And all the girls are alive, save five. Four were killed during the fight, another died last night. She was just too weak." He closed his eyes again, thinking about that night and all that had gone wrong.

[Cyrith]

Cyrith's eyes quickly darted towards the door. Old woman had only just left moments before and knew she was not yet due to return. Seeing that it was the Warmaster, the quickly reached for the blanket and covered herself up to her neck. She did see how different he looked now, but made no note of it, lacking the ability to really care. She wondered why he was here. He just took up a chair and sat near to her bed, staring off and said nothing. Cyrith sighed silently and made due with the situation.

Finally, he spoke saying, I see you have finally woken up. I was beginning to think that you weren't. How are you feeling? So the old woman was speaking the truth. It seemed that he was worried about her. She mentally shook her head. It was stupid to worry over someone as she. Cyrith answered nothing for a time. She lacked some strength to be able to speak fully. So she just whispered a reply. "I have been through worse." A knife in the back was nothing compared to the whipping session she once had. In her eyes, nothing could be worse.

I want to reward you, but I'll wait until you have recovered. Cyrith blinked at this. His words caught her by surprise. "Reward me?" she repeated. "I don't need or want anything from you, Warmaster."

I suppose your wondering what happened? Cyrith had been asleep for two days, she knew nothing of the happenings that had taken place since. "Yes," she said. She listened to all that the Warmaster had to say. Five slavers dead, three being held captive for the time, and five of the girls dead. Perhaps these three living slavers could be sentenced to death themselves. Cyrith would enjoy watching them die. Little Red was to blame for this mess. Cyrith told herself that a few times already. She had an urge to give that child a good backhanding. "Where are the girls now?" she asked.