Old August 22, 2010, 04:19 AM   #1 (permalink)
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To be or not to be. . .? [Open ;D]

Blue eyes blazed with fury, darkened lips pressed into a straight line. What were you to do when your dreams became nightmares? The clutching fingers of the night enveloped a slim frame in its protective embrace. Blood stained simple attire; sticking the flimsy material to damp, sweaty skin. Almost got yerself caught there, Atah. . .

Everything was so hard to forget. The children she had given her life up for were now in the angry clutches of the people she hated most, and her entire life was switched upside down like an egg timer and the tiny grains of sand were running short. Atahlia pressed her damp back against the cold stone walls of the alleyway, her body sliding towards the ground and her arms wrapping around her knees.
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Old August 22, 2010, 04:55 AM   #2 (permalink)
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"Oi, lass. Ain't yer momma never tell ya not to wander in dark alleys at night?"

The bulky, lumbering form emerged out of the gloom like some ghostly fiend, yellow eyes burning iridescently as he ogled the young thing that'd just collapsed against the wall. Save for a black bandana and breeches and the gang-related tats scrawled all over his massive, shockingly green form, Hazudar was unclothed... weather was sweltering lately, and the night air always felt good on his mainlander skin. His trademark fanged grin flashed out, coy and knowing, as he bent to the level of the elfin whelp, squatting along the wall opposite with his claws dangling between his knees.

"Course, I never listened to mine neither." Being a criminal mastermind and all, Haz probably spent more time than was strictly necessary haunting the backstreets, whistling his strange tune, lost in a web of memories. Old habits, though, were hard as hell to break, and this particular habit stretched back all the way to the bad old days Haz'd spent being just another thuggish merc in Prime. Eras of experience had taught the brute how useful it was to develop a certain... intimacy with the darkest regions of the city. Nothing was quite so good for a getaway as a maze of alleys which only you, and not your pursuers, were familiar with.

This fresh piece of meat didn't even look like she knew THAT much. Tsk tsk. It was a shame. Haz could SMELL the almost urinal tang of fear, anxious sweat and oh yes, the blood. 'Twas the perfume of a newly made killer... the orc inhaled deeply through his nostrils, his grin widening.

"Come on. I knows a place where we kin vanish." Of course, the girl might worry about vanishing permanently, but nothing worthwhile in life came without risk. Another lesson Hazudar'd learned long ago, the hard way. Without even looking back, the brute rose, made his way further into the alley and booted open a side-door. With a vague map of Secy's dingier corridors plastered up in his mind, Hazudar could easily lead the doe-eyed Eshie mostly unseen all the way to HIS part of the island; the Neos Megalis, where anarchists, pirates, and various members of Hazudar's criminal clique reigned supreme.

That is, if she was coming.
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Old August 22, 2010, 05:15 AM   #3 (permalink)
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"Aye, cause I would really listen to what she told me even if she were alive. . ," She retorted to the voice that had cut so smoothly through the thick, heavy silence that had covered the alleyway, her eyes lifting to fixate her cool signature glare on the man. Atahlia rested her chin on top of her knees, as her eyes searched over the man for some sign of danger; whether it be a weapon concealed about his body, or a wicked glint in his eye, she could see nothing that could even remotely incriminate him, or condemn him in her eyes. It took only a few moments for her regain her once fragmented thoughts, but made no effort to rise to her feet.

"And if you don't mind me asking why you informed me of this?"

Atahlia replied cattily, her voice taking on a tone of ice, her nose finally registering the blood on her hands, cheeks, hair and clothes. Her azure eyes now wrenched from the Orkish man's face, they now focused on the scarlet patches of blood that stained her skin and clothes; stuck her hair to her cheeks and forehead with bemusement. What had happened back there? All that she could remember was a group of men surrounding her, shouting obscenities that she's dared not think aloud, not realising that they had met her in the wrong timing, and had watched them slaughtered before her very eyes.

What a day.

"And why do you think I would come with you?"
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Old August 22, 2010, 05:35 AM   #4 (permalink)
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"Cause I'm interesting," Hazudar grinned over his burly shoulder. Not just a grin, but a big, swaggery, damnably knowing grin that said he knew what she was gonna do before she even did it.

He wasn't carrying any concealed weapons, come to look at him, but there were plenty of unconcealed weapons strapped where anyone could see. Had to be that way... keeping his pieces out where the marks could see 'em, could visualize the long jagged machete tearing out someone's throat in plain view, for instance... meant smoother sailing when Hazudar told them all how the robbery was gonna go down. Also kept the lesser scumbags, predators and would-be bounty hunters off his back, for the most part, when they could see he was packing.

As for the gleam in his eye, it was wickeder than original sin. Hazudar was an altogether scary guy, couldn't have concealed THAT even if he'd wanted, and he never did. Even trying would've been absurd, like his sixteen-foot giant buddy Grot trying to hide out from the cops by crouching behind a building. The orc was a menace, no doubt, BUT... he always did have a soft spot for a fellow felon, especially of the feline, feminine variety.

"Way I sees it, ya'll can keep wanderin' the city lookin' like da cat who slit da canary's throat... or ye kin come along, 'ave a drink an' some fresh clothes off a wench I know an' tell me yer story. Well, I guess ya could also wash off in da canals... but dat'd mean strippin' down in public, eh?"

"So wot's it gonna be, girlie?"

Still pausing in the doorway, Hazudar jerked his smirking head towards the interior of empty fish shop he'd just broken into and... waited.
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Old August 22, 2010, 01:07 PM   #5 (permalink)
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Atahlia couldn't help but giggle quietly into herself at the Orc's outspoken arrogance, her own smile slightly smaller, but more mischievous than the wide grin that had been flashed towards her. "Cause you're interesting? I suppose we should see about that. . ," She simply allowed her smile to spread into a wide grin, that crinkled the corner's of her eyes. The Elf raised her hand and pulled her fingers through her bloodied and tangled hair, peering at her reflection in a puddle.

She looked at state. Small scratches marked the skin of her cheek, and her right eye was swollen and beginning to close itself over. Only when she noticed the reflection in the water did they begin to hurt; her eye throbbing and the cuts stinging as the bitter night air brushed against the broken skin. "jeez, I look like something from a fighting arena!" She muttered, lifting her hand to peer down at the swollen eye, her thumb and index finger opening the eye to peer at it.

Atahlia listened to the orc, and and sighed, lifting her body from the cold, hard ground and rose to her feet, her body swaying slightly. The elf's eyesight began to swim, and her back was pressed against the cool brickwork of the wall. "Fine, lead the way."
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Old August 22, 2010, 06:41 PM   #6 (permalink)
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Hazudar's gaze lingered on the Eshie brat as she puddle-primped herself, looking just as haughty as a noble Governess staring into a gilt mirror. Still grinning, the brute snorted disparagingly, giving an amused little shake of the head. Trust a woman to be checking herself out at a time like this. Anyway, this chick'd be singing a different tune if she'd ever seen a REAL fight club match, like the kind Haz used to fracture skulls in.

"Yer alright, darlin'. I likes me a woman with a black eye an' a few missin' teef." It was true, too, there weren't nothing Haz found sexy like a gal with character on her face. Not that the orc was a misogynist, or anything... I mean, sure, he'd punched a few pregnant chicks into early labor before, who hadn't? But in general, Haz had nothing but love for his sinister sisters. Besides, weren't THEY usually the ones kicking HIS ass?

Despite that sobering thought, the orc showed no hesitation in invading the elf's personal space once she came swaying into range. His claw laced around her forearm in a grip like iron, almost painful -- not out of malice or anything, but just cause Hazudar never did anything gentle. Simply wasn't in him to.

"Can't have yew stumblin' into da floodwaters. 'Sides, dat bloody dress'll look less suspicious if dey kin pin on it da big, bad, kidnappin' greenskin," Haz explained, although the wench could have her own way if she really wanted. Either way, the brute slipped quickly into the dark, pungent recesses of the joint he'd just busted open, and thus would begin a whole series of b&es and skulking around, until at last the pair emerged on a mostly empty side canal.

"Island's usually flooded dis time o' night," Haz murmured, staring at a distant, flickering light that was coming in slow over the water. "Gonna need a set o' oars if we wanna get anywhere. Like dat one." Racial darkvision shone within the depths of his eyes, criminal intent in the gleam of his bare, grinning fangs, as Haz extended a crooked index claw in the direction of the approaching boat, faintly outlined against the black by the light of the sole lantern hanging from its prow.

"Dey see ME, they might jest try an' drift on past. For yew, though, I reckon dey pull over. Say somepin' all vulnerable an' waif like. I'll handle da rest." With his hideous leer still locked on the girl's, Haz drifted silently backwards into the mouth of the alley, everything save the eyes and grin vanishing amid the gloom.

OOCYo, make something up! A pair of lovers out for a romantical cruise. Gay lovers. (That's common in Secy lol) Idc what. A guard patrol. Whatever you think is interesting! :)
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Old August 22, 2010, 08:33 PM   #7 (permalink)
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Giggle-snort.

It took that single sound that slipped from the orc's mouth to alert her that he was watching her as she studied her injuries. Hell, she looked a complete state. Atahlia's nose wrinkled, her eyebrows furrowing as she pulled her face from the DIY mirror; disgusted with the state she had allowed herself to be beaten in to. She pulled her fingers through the light and carmine strands that adorned her head, Looking to the Orc in time to note the shaking of his head, a bemused smile pranced over her swollen lips.

“What?”

Atahlia rose from the ground, her dark hands moving from her hair to her hips, a light coloured brow rising questioningly. She listened, and laughed, her head tilting backwards as she did so. “Well, that's reassured me somewhat,” She continued to giggle, her hands falling limp by her sides as they stood face to face for a moment, before her eye sight went hazy once more. If she were to be blatantly honest with herself; she felt sick. But what else would anyone have expected from her, having drawn the short straw on this occasion?


Atahlia's body had swayed forward, and the orc's fingers curved completely around her upper arms; steadying her swaying frame that had proven unreliable, the reason she had sat down against the walls of the alleyway in the first place, to steady her mind. The night air was bitter against her skin, and her face and places that were bloodied felt tight as the blood began to dry.

“I won't stumble into the flood waters. . .” She mumbled, as the Orc pulled her along by the arm. What was the use in fighting back? She had to face it, the bloke was huge, and heavily armed! As they arrived at the water's edge, Atahlia simply nodded, blue hued gaze following where the Orc's paw was pointing, and her jaw dropped open.

“We can't take that! There's men in it!”

Vulnerable and waif-like. Greaaaat.

With a soft sigh, Atahlia's hand moved to the barely over the knee dress, and hitched it to her mid thigh, and placed a hand on her hip. She pushed her dark lips forward, and tilted her hip to the side, her eyes growing wide.

The men in the boat bit like fish to a worm, their eyes seraching longingly over her legs, her body and her face. God, this was disgusting.

“Well hello there, Darlin'” He slurred, the boat slipping to a halt in front of her. “What's a gurl like you doing out in a city like this? No place for a woman this time of night, no Sir-ee.”
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Old August 22, 2010, 09:50 PM   #8 (permalink)
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Wasn't just the two yokels in the boat who were... perking up, at the sight of this Eshie's amateur striptease performance. Hazudar, too, was
enjoying himself mightily, lecherous eyes roving conducting a thorough examination of his potential partner in crime. Actually, it was almost funnier than it was sexy. The whole hiked up skirt, jaunty hips, pouty lips thing? Priceless. This elfin brat must really be fresh out of the forests if THAT was the best hooker routine she could muster.

From his vantage point in the alley, the orc gave a low wolf whistle... fortunately, the chumps in the boat were either too drunk or too distracted to notice. Hell, they hadn't even picked up on the bloodstains yet... then again, it was pretty dark out, and a lantern's flame tended to cast a lady in red in a somewhat less sinister and more flattering light -- fashion tip of the day for Haz-sensei's budding young apprentice.

In fact, not until the orc was practically looming over the pair did they bother to notice there was a fourth actor intruding upon their little menage-a-trois. For such a hulking beast of a greenie, Hazudar could be surprisingly sneaky when it suited him. He was an orc of many talents, as his new acquaintance would soon learn, assuming she stuck with him.

"Sorry ter say it, kyrios..." the brute rasped, referring to the native Secyclionids in their own primitive tongue. "But dis AIN'T yer lucky evenin' after all." Without further ado, and with uncanny speed, Haz leapt down into the little vessel. From beyond the lip of the canal came the islander's cries of surprise, followed by a brief concerto of meaty, bone crunching noises, the finale consisting of two consecutive splashes as the boat's owners met with a watery doom.

Unless the two were lucky and awoke from their concussions, they were probably gonna drown in the shallow water. Hazudar didn't care much either way, though it would be interesting to see just what kind of morals his female cohort was harboring, beneath that battered, bloody, beautiful exterior.

Rubbing his claws together, the orc whistled a tuneless but merry jig as he stepped off the boat and ascended the stairs back up the walkway. He faced his acquaintance with a sneer, then shoved one of the oars he was carrying into her arms.

Chivalry, it seemed, wasn't merely dead, but was being actively pissed on, trampled and burnt.

"Well, dollface, yer chariot awaits. Mighty generous of 'em ter stop fer a lady, don'tcha fink? We'll hafta work on dat hussy routine o' yers, though. Plenty o' whores 'round town I know what kin show ya a few pointers." With a mock bow and a flourish, Hazudar ceased his babble and gestured towards the waiting raft, bobbing gently and invitingly on the current of the floodtide.
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Old September 29, 2010, 02:50 PM   #9 (permalink)
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Cheeks burning a deep crimson, Atah’s eyes slipped slowly closed; lids shrouding the azure eyes she was so proud of. The stale stink of ale was ripe on their breaths, which was breezing rhythmically against the cold skin of her cheeks. She felt like a whore, which she was supposed to be acting, but shame riddled through her body. Stupid Orcs. More bulk than brains, she reckoned. Eyes opening, a coy smile spread with ease upon her lips, her head tilting to one side. “And who said that err... Ladies weren’t allowed to be out after dark. . ,” she flirted. Her stomach turned, twisted this way and that as the stench of the blood that soaked her dress finally hit her.

Atahlia’s senses had been numbed along with her skin, as adrenaline had pounded through her veins; feet running faster, senses nullified from the shock that she had been sure to settle in. Where was the remorse? Where was the sense of disgust that she had been sure to feel when, IF, she had been able to escape? There was nothing. The blood that had been shed silently in the dead of night had not been the first layer of blood that had excited her so much. Atahlia froze for a moment, her teeth catching on the dark flesh of the inside of her lips as she thought it out. How many was it up to now? Three? Four, five? Five.

The whistle had lingered in the almost silent air that had surrounded Atahlia and the two, seemingly doomed men. She almost had to fight not to turn ‘round and glare at the ... Man... Creature that had taken her, almost unwillingly hostage. Instead, Atahlia heaved a gentle sigh; pulling gently at the thin material of her stained dress, her lips returning to the beam it had once acquired. She was going to have words with him later.

Drunken slurs were exchanged between both men, whose eyes continued to wander over her legs, her bust and her face. Riight. Find the attractive hooker. They’d be searching a while. Clearing her throat, the whispers and drunken murmurs were silenced, and Atahlia sighed as once more, their perveing gaze was cast upon her. “So how about it. . ?” The slurred. That stupid orc had better intervene. . . No sooner than the thought had slipped into her mind, she started as the hulking orc appeared behind her, and both men’s eyes widened.

Crunch! Bam! Ka-pooey!

The men fell like a lump of crap; falling into the water with a large splash. Atahlia giggled, watching the flurry of bubbles break the surface. The oar was thrust into her hands, and Atahlia’s fingers curves with ease around the wooden oar. “I would if I knew which damn direction we were going in...”
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Old October 1, 2010, 01:23 PM   #10 (permalink)
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Where WERE they going? Well, to answer that woulda spoiled the MYSTERY. Haz only shrugged and grinned in reponse. And with a polite little series of shoves aimed at her shoulders, cajoled the lass down into the gondola. No more witticisms or innuendos for the moment; even HAZUDAR occassionally knew when to shut up, it seemed.

Truth be told, the orc was... pondering. Naturally, he wanted to know more about the lady whose company he was in. But of course, gentlemen don't ask questions, which left the fine art of deduction. Now, the blood, plus the utter lack of remorse or sympathy to the plight of the two recent marks... both suggested this girl was hardly new to the murder scene. But then, as the recent 'performance' had shown, any terrified waif with a brain could ACT the part.

How to really put her to the test? That was the problem, wasn't it? Fortunately, even as they stepped onto the waiting gondola, fate had an answer.

A pair of hands suddenly erupted from the waters of the canal and clamped onto the side of the boat, followed by the head of one of the two middle-aged drunkards Haz had beaten, apparently, not quite to death. The man's face was battered, bloody, swollen, twisted in rage; and though Haz was mostly to blame for all the above, the man's eyes were locked on Atahlia instead.

"Ya poxy Hayan whore!" he slurred, eyes disfocusing and refocusing as he struggled, slowly and in a mindless rage, to clamber aboard. "Lying elfin cow, I'll kill ya, I swears I--" The perilous gleam of a switchblade flashed suddenly out of his right fist. Yet even so, the man had been knocked half out of his wits, and was hardly in any shape to make good on his threats.

Hazudar seemed taken aback regardless. The orc stared at his victim in shock for a moment, before murmuring, "I'll be damned. Stubborn bastard's still got fight in 'im. I must be gettin' old." Smirk slipping back onto his face, Haz stomped viciously on the man's struggling forearm, both pinning him and sending the weapon scattering across the floor of the raft... straight towards Atah, as it so happened.

"Yo. Kid. Ever kill anyone before?" the orc asked, pretending like it was an idle question... but the intensity with which the brute looked at her, from the corner of his beady eyes, spoke otherwise. His gaze was predatory, like a snake, watching and waiting, testing the air, uncannily focused. "Actually, I'm sure ya have, but y'know... you ever do it just fer kicks?" Haz's smirk seemed to harden as he dragged the poor human fool aboard by the roots of his hair, exposing the vulnerable neck to what was now his apprentice's blade. One burly orcish arm kept the man's head pulled back, whilst the other pinned his arms, held him aloft.

This kill was all hers. But would she take it? How far did that giggle-at-the-victims attitude go? Now Haz'd find out for sure. He ran his tongues over his fangs as he watched, his face a shadow behind the lined, worn, haggard visage of the man who, strangely enough, seemed to welcome his fate.

"Gonna do it, girlie? You women are all the same. Lying, thieving. You'd damn well better kill me, because if I ever see you or your orcish boyfriend here again, I swear I'll..." And so on, and so on, he spat. Typical frustrated woman-hating fare. If Atah really HAD been a hooker, she'd likely have been in for some rough treatment, maybe even a beating when the bastard decided his impotence was HER fault.
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Old November 26, 2010, 03:36 PM   #11 (permalink)
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In response to the question she had once asked, Atahlia was greeted with the cool silence she had earlier welcomed with comfort; answered with a series of slight shoves in the direction of the unsteady boat that floated gaily upon the stagnant flood water of Secyclion, Succumbing to the push and pull of the water. "Do we really have to go by boat? This looks a smidgen unsteady..." Doubtful, her eyes switched from the Gondola, to Haz and back again for a few moments. Atahlia stepped down into the boat, heart pounding quietly against the confines of her ribcage with an unsteady beat, blood pounding in her ears like hands to a drum. bum-Bum. Bum-Bum.

As soon as she had made sure that she was steady, a grey-blue tinted hand was extended toward her 'Captor', in case he slipped. Who ever said chivailery was dead? But, if she were to be completely honest with herself; Atah was curious about who the man was, where he had come from, and for such a big bastard, how he had kept almost completely silence. Curiouser and Curiouser. Pitter-Patter. The Icy rain continued to pop and slide with ease onto and over her skin, as her hand remained extended.

WHOOSH!

The cold, blue hands shot from the water with a loud splash, the man's lungs gasping for the air he had been denied over the past few minutes. HIs fumbling fingers gripped the edge of the boat, tilting it as he struggled aboard the Gondola. Fury gleaming eyes were locked upon Atahlia, his pupil growing and shrink as they slipped in and out of focus. "****!" She stumbled backwards, almost tripping and falling into the murky water that kept the boat afloat.

Then, the insults began. With each one fury began to boil in her blood, the beating of her pulse becoming more violent, and almost threatening to burst from her veins. It took only a few moments for the silver gleam of the blade to catch her eye, and even less for Haz to knock it out of his hand. "Let go of him..." All niceness had left her voice; and her once light eyes glared at the quivering heap that lay on the floor of the boat; pearly teeth slipping from behind her lips.

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Old November 26, 2010, 03:52 PM   #12 (permalink)
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"Hmmm," Hazudar rasped, still effortlessly holding back the filthy, sopping wet drunkard who was, like a caged viper, spitting curses and writhing in the brute's grip. "Interestin' answer. I fink I'm startin' to like yew, kid."

A ghost of a grin gleamed in the darkness, and of a sudden, the orc stepped back, letting the man who was now wholly Atahlia's topple to the floor of the vessel. Hazudar became nothing more than a lumbering shadow and craftily watching eyes, their dull yellow narrowing to slits as the orc's grin widened beneath. He waited... he watched.

Sprawled on the rolicking wooden floor, the drunk swore loudly and then rose, still dripping, to his feet. He didn't seem much a fighter, nor very large, but he was mean. His fists clenched at his sides, slowly rising, the curl of his lip... all of it reeked of a man used to inflicting abuse. Who was it he usually beat on? Some poor victimized wife? Their children? Both?

"Arrogant sow, ain't ya? That's the last mistake you'll ever make, bitch. Think it makes any difference who's holdin' the blade?" The man hissed, slurring the words through a broken jaw and alcohol-swollen tongue. His eyes were pure murder, staring into Atah's pretty face, the kind of face that always tormented a creature like this.

He lunged. No technique, not a controlled attack -- but just a stupid, boorish lunge. Shoes, still heavy with seawater, tramping clumsily over the swaying floor of the little boat. One fist lashing out towards the hated face. A wordless curse fouling the night air. A moment. A chance. A turning point. Time for Atah to make her move.
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Old November 27, 2010, 06:54 AM   #13 (permalink)
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Blue eyes continued to glare in the hazed orbs of the drunken man before her; dark lips curling over her teeth. If he wanted to act the big man, he could. For the few moments the remained pinned, Atah allowed a short, curt laugh to slip from her lips, pupils expanding to shroud the once vibrant blue tinted eyes she had prided herself upon. Anger continued to pulse through her veins, until the moment that Haz spoke.

As the Orc Stepped back, more incoherant, alcohol and anger fuelled cussing emanated from his lips. Yet, Atahlia stood in one spot, unmoving but sstill glaring at the drunken fool upon the floor. She felt sorry for whoever had had to deal with him in his home. She shuddered at the thought. Most drunken men generally took their agression out on their family, but never their friends. The man groaned as the weight that had pinned his arm into place was released; mouth still spitting derogatry insult towards the eshie.

We'll see. We'll see.

LUNGE.

The man stumbled forward, attempting to use all of his weight against her, unaware that he was so close to the edge of the boat. Atah side stepped, useing the tip of her worn boot to throw the man off balance; her finger curling into his diry, soaking hair and forcing his face over the side and into the murky, dirty water. Atahlia pulled him out for a second to whisper something in his ear, before she submerged his head once more.

The drunkard continued to struggle beneath her grasp, but stil shaking hands held him in place, as he flailed, struggled and clawed against the grip that was denying him oxygen. Then, all was still. Atahlia kicked him into the water and stooped to retreive her oar.

"Urgh, I hate men like that. Reminds me of the brutish Orc that dragged me up..."
She grumbed towards Haz, throwing him his oar.
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