Posted by Alyson and Seriah on 4/7/2009, 7:42 pm
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"Fine. Let the wolfen decide their fates." Alyson said quietly, "Know this, if it was us instead of them, he would enjoy beating us into submission to support his bloody ego." She fumed and walked off.
“Alyson, why are you so angry?” Willow Bark turned towards the woman whom he loved, “You have gotten your revenge. You have vanquished your nemesis. And you have helped us free Kana and Serna. In spite of all that you have accomplished this day, Alyson, what vexes you so?”
The elementalist was silently starring off into the distance, when another figure appeared behind the ranger.
"She will not listen to you, elf," came a reply from an exotic woman. Her hair was jet black, her skin brown, and her style of dress indicated that she came from the desert kingdoms. "She has been transformed, and not in a good way. Such is the price for power. And it is not the first time this has happened, either." The veiled woman shook her head, "But fortunate for you and your friends it isn't permanent. She needs to vent. To release the anger within her, otherwise, Venger will have won."
Willow Bark spun around to address the new arrival, “Excuse me, but who are you? I am Willow Bark, Ranger of The Forest of Stormhaven and Friend to High Lady Alyson Khyng,” The Ranger turned towards the Elementalist, “Though I freely admit I do not know this woman who stands so close to me and yet so distant from my heart. Her anger and her rage have masked her countenance so that I barely recognize her at all.” Readdressing the new arrival, Willow Bark asked, “How do you know so much about Alyson?”
The veiled woman laughed, "For an elf as old yourself, you seem to be lacking of the knowledge in where I hail from. I am Seriah. A Shadow Dancer, of the Desert Kingdoms."
Alyson interupted, "She's an assassin. Damn good one at that. She helped Uncle Madeous after he spared her life when a powerful sheik had place a high bounty on his head for an insult, that was really a answer to a question taken the wrong way." The elementalist turned with a quizical look as she faced her teacher, "How? Why? Weren't you an old woman on Earth?"
"Yes. Yes, I was an old woman," The Shadow Dancer replied softly, "The magic of your world is very different there than it is here. Your world relies on illusion more so than any other magic. Real magic does exist but it is ancient and not known to a world of people who have forgotten it, relying on machines instead. When I returned here to the Realm, I was exactly the same as I was when I left. As if nothing had changed."
Seriah kept her distance from her pupil knowing full well, that the elementalist was still angry. The assassin flicked a dagger into the air at the elementalist. Alyson caught it by the blade, not the handle, "I see you have not forgot your training."
Alyson eyed the blade, then Seriah, "Should I have? Willow, she's not only my teacher but my foster mother. Uncle Madeous wasn't always there, being away on business trips and such, so Seriah would teach me the ways of the assassin and survival. Herb lore and yes, poisons, too. And her own tales of adventure in the Realm."
The Gamer's attention flickered momentarily to the newcomer. //Great, more company. Looks like she can probably keep until the current crisis is dealt with.//
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“You’re right, woman,” snarled Waylon Mercy after The Elementalist, “’cept in your case, I would do mor’in just whip da’ tar outta ya’ jus’ so I cun do it. I would take a nice piece of meat like you to ma’ bed an’ do ta’ ya’ whut any man should do ta’ woman dressed like you. Know whut I mean?”
Waylon didn't even have time to say another word as Seriah dropped kicked him so hard in the groin that Lord Irzen and company grimaced from the impact, "Silence! Dog! Hold your tongue, or I will remove it! The Nine Hells take you, worm!"
The Gamer waited a moment longer to make sure everyone had made his or her input. "You seem to be suffering under a misapprehension, Waylon," he finally said in a disappointed tone. "Nothing was being put to a vote; I merely asked for their input." He stepped forward, throwing his hood back to fully reveal* his inhuman face.
Waylon grimaced at Tommy’s face, “You sure are butt ugly, ain’t ya?”
Ignoring the others, the Gamer crouched down in front of the Slaver, his eyes glowing with an internal fire. "Though I think it does show that at least some of us are perhaps better than you, morally speaking." His voice was hollow and emotionless as he continued. "I do not want you to think that Kana's-" he paused, and there was nothing friendly in the smile he gave Waylon, "-mercy, will let you walk away from this."
“I don’ see why not?” Waylon responded defiantly, “After I order hur to let us go, Guess whut? She’s gonna’ let us go like a good lil slave when dey obey their master right and proper.”
The Gamer paused just a moment to let this sink in, then his hand flashed out to grip the Slaver's forehead. The cold of the grave seeped into Waylon's body, freezing every muscle until he could not blink, could not speak, could not even breath. "I am curious, though. Given that you had to come here and forcibly retrieve Kana after she had fled your loving company, what makes you think that she would have anything positive to say about you, much less want to return to working for you? Hubris, or do you think you have some other hold over her?" He withdrew his hand, and the ability to breath returned to the Slaver as his body slowly began to warm up. "Well? Speak!"
Waylon gasped for air and with a great deal of venom spat back, “She’s gonna do whut I tell hur ta’ do ‘cause dat is all hur kind knows! Back on Gorrius, ya’ oughta see ‘im. Dey ain’t nothin’ like me or you or ya’ friends. Dey can’t think. Unless someun put a thought in dem thar heads. Dey don’ know how ta’ act like civilized folk. ‘less we train ‘em. On Gorrius, all hur kind does is fight an’ kill an’ slaughter each othur jus’ ‘cause dey can. Now ware’s de sense in dat? There ain’t no sense to it at all. So we ‘umans came up with an idear to put all of thar rage an’ anger towards each other ta’ good use. We made dem slaves. We give dem order. We tell dem whut ta do, whut ta think, whut ta ware and how to act like civilized folk. Dey maybe slaves but at least dey ain’t killin’ each othur off anymore.”
Looking at everyone, Waylon cried out, “Listen to me all of ya, whut can you offer Kana dat I can’t? I give hur food, clothin’, a roof over hur ‘ead, and a purpose in her life beyond killlin’ jus’ fur da’ sake of killin’. Whut can any of you offer to Kana dat I can’t?”
“Friendship,” Willow Bark responded immediately.
“Respect,” Irzen added as well.
“Kindness,” Sor’n threw in his answer before he looked to Heidi to add her thoughts, “What would you like to add, Lady Knight?”
After Heidi responded, Tommy gave Waylon a manic grin. "All of that, and a manicure and pedicure. Honestly, did you know how bad her nails were when we found her?" He shook his head. "Seriously, though, how about the freedom to do what she chooses with her life? And if she chooses to fight and kill and slaughter her own kind, that is her right. She'll have to live with the consequences of her actions, but that also is her right. A concept you don't seem to grasp. I could dissect each of your arguments, but clearly you have no intention of changing your worldview to mesh with anything resembling reality. Personally, I think your whole family fits into the 'needs killing' category, but if I were to kill everyone I thought was a waste of breath…" He shrugged. "I'd end up pretty lonely after a while. So it's probably for the best that I curb my impulses. One of several lessons you might want to think on if you ever make it back to Gorrius."
“Ya’ll never lurn,” Waylon laughed, “A slave is a slave is a slave. Kana’s gonna’ do whut I hur master tell hur to do. An’ that’s all dar is to it.”
The Gamer looked back at the group. "Hey, if we end up not killing them, can I at least run them through my ethics boot camp? This guy definitely needs a moral code shoved up his assumptions."
“Fine by me,” confessed The Swordsman shrugging his shoulders.
“A little morality might do him and his family a Realm of good,” admitted The Ranger with a firm nod.
“A long, painful Death over many days is the only thing that is going to do him and his ilk any good,” snapped The Lieutenant, “But if you feel a morality lesson can change their minds as well as their hearts so be it. Personally, I think you are wasting both your time and breath on these miserable slavers.”
((O.O.C: I thought it was time to bring another character, her name is Seriah, she's an assassin from the Desert Kingdoms. She's also Alyson's teacher. Sorry to say, Sterling, but Seriah isn't ashamed of wearing clothing that shows more skin than War Scribe, and yes, the chronicler is going to be jealous.))
((OOC Tommy: Whee! This group just keeps getting darker and darker. Not that I'm one to point fingers. Heck, if Seriah can help Alyson get her head back on straight, I don't care if she eats babies.))
((OOC Sterling: I am happy to have Seriah along. But I have an idea to cure War Scribe’s jealousy of Seriah, how about the two of them engage in a little competition: The First Annual Scantily-Clad Realmer Pageant in which the two ladies would face off to see who would be Miss Scantily-Clad Realmer for the Year. We could have them participate in four categories: Evening wear, Swim wear, Daily wear, and Turkish oil wrestling to The Death. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!))
(O.O.C: Don't push your luck just yet, Sterling. Patience.))
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