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Post by mariahwhy on Dec 29, 2016 23:17:05 GMT -6
Isolt | Labor Slave
Isolt's mind was still centered on her transgression when Ryunne began to panic. The new ripple of anxiety that shot through the room brought her around, green eyes turning to the other slaves. What had the dark roan said? Branding?
The room suddenly felt stuffy and cramped as the heaviness of the situation settled around them. The word "brand" floated around them like a dark spirit, touching each separately, and all at once. It only took a second for the reactions to come forth, but to Isolt it felt like time had slowed to a crawl. She was hyper aware of every thought and feeling she had. She was aware of little Jupiter - would they brand him as a slave, if Alois's story was true? Would they even listen to the story? The mother would surely put up a fight, to spare the foal. Ryuune might as well, given his frantic yelling. And Gallow? he would fight for himself. She turned to the quiet colt in the corner. Was panic climbing in his throat and weighing in his stomach like a rock?
Or was he like her - numb? A tingling traveled up her hooves and into her legs. Her muscles shook. Emotions swirled in her mind. Naturally, fear was the first to take hold. It was such a contagious emotion, and there were not many who could think of the red hot end of the branding iron without some trepidation. But, her mind graciously reminded her, it was only a moment of a pain. A second. She had survived pain before, and would survive it again. And the outcome this time would be a brand. A mark of her place in this world, similar to the glittering gem on her forehead that had supposedly symbolized the same thing. Confusion took hold. Her horn. Her bridle. Together they pronounced her a labor slave. Why should she need a brand? Would all slaves get one, or just those that stood in this room?
Her mind tumbled again, this time grabbing hold of a feeling that was out of place in this dim cell. Pride. A brand. A brand from the city. Nine years ago Valore itself had claimed her as a laborer, and now the relationship would be burned into her hide. Like a mark from Ignacio himself, for all to see. It would be something she would wear proudly, for her gratification to the city was not something to be hidden. The city had saved her from the monotonous life of a servile slave. It fed and housed her, and only asked that she take care of it in turn. Let them brand me, she thought, everything seeming to speed back into real time. "Valore is my master," she whispered, partly in response to her own confusion, and partly to Gallow's question. Hearing her own words rallied her thoughts to form a shallow blanket of courage. Looking up at the appaloosa, she spoke louder. "The city is all of our masters. Even your masters answer to Valore, and if this is what the king wishes, then it is what your masters wish as well." A smile crept back onto her face, painting a queer sense of calm against the confusion in her eyes, and the quivering in her hide.
(Post 5: 548 words)
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Post by catorb on Jan 1, 2017 4:37:57 GMT -6
Algren Aodh | Servile Slave
"They are gonna brand us."
Algren's eyes shot open at the disbelieving voice of the blue roan unicorn. 'Branded?' He froze in his spot, his eyes focused on a small crack stony floor. They would be branded? But why? He harshly bit down on his bridle, it clicked between his teeth. Wasn't this restraint enough? He heard the panicked voice of the same stallion again, and the angry ones from Gallow, but Algren didn't listen. He wasn't making out the words, as he was too deep in thought. He could feel it...The panic in the room. It slowly thickened the air like mist.
They could do this? Just brand them? No. Algren belonged to his master. They must get some kind of permission from him to be allowed to mar his property? And Al was sure, Luciano wouldn't want him to be branded, of all things. He treated him like a son! ...A small fire sparked deep within the colt, both the fear and anger from the other horses in the room rubbing off on him. Though, it wasn't clear which feeling was more overpowering.
Then he heard the soft words across from him. Isolt was murmuring to herself, before she spoke up. But what she said dropped Algren's brow even lower. How could she say such a thing? She didn't know what it was like to be part of a household, a close one, a family, like his. Otherwise she wouldn't speak this way, with that odd smile on her face that seemed so misplaced. The roan colt almost felt like telling her a piece of his mind, his anger now surely more fueled then his fear. 'MY master doesn't wish this!' He almost wanted to shout back. But all he did was give her a dark glare, with his fiery green eyes...
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Post by farquaadstarquad on Jan 3, 2017 3:09:37 GMT -6
Morrison heard the ruckus that arose behind the door and shouted, “ENOUGH!” before he turned back to the chevaliers.
“Shall we begin branding this group?”
The armored mare nodded and motioned for one of the chevaliers to step forward. “Chevalier Erin here will heat up the iron. But we will give you the honors.” She passed the iron to Morrison.
Morrison chuckled and nodded as he examined the branding iron. He noted that the brand was similar to the sigil on the herd flag. A small, simplistic dragon with its wings extended. Morrison looked to Chevalier Erin and handed back the iron. “I will go get the first slave.”
Morrison promptly turned and opened the door to the room of slaves. As he entered, he readied a grasp on his long sword. The slaves has of course heard them outside, and he knew from the racket they made that they would not be pleased once he stepped back in.
“Listen up!” Morrison barked, his words accompanied by a hard stomp. “The palace has called for all slaves to be branded for identification purposes. There is no arguing on this, you will do as told without question.”
He had thought of who to draw first, questioning if it would be best to take the pit fighter first pr the sake of getting the hard one over with. However his eyes were drawn to the mare and foal. The foal had been a lively fellow, where as his mother took no effort to interact. That one, Morrison decided.
“You-” Morrison made a motion to the mare, “-you will be branded first.” He approached her and nudged the foal away. “The child will be safe in here. Come now.” Morrison gave her a light shove towards the door.
Post 4 // 295 words
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Post by sansatine on Jan 5, 2017 22:02:53 GMT -6
Branding? She was to be branded. All the slaves were. Alois was reeling. She couldn't believe this. Amadeus ordered this? No. Impossible. The chevalier called Alois first. He said to leave Jupiter. At first she was frozen, watching her son. Leave him? No she couldn't- but if Jupiter saw what was to happen... He had to stay, yes, had to. But she trusted no one here- and what if they wanted to brand Jupiter? No- he was a citizen! Ryunne would advocate for Jupiter. Isholt was too ditsy and accommodating to advocate for him. She was called again. Alois shook her head and stepped about in all directions and no direction. Morrison approached and spoke to her. He nudged Jupiter away from her and it took every ounce of her not to snap and attack him then. Through her anger, she stuttered out "Y-yes I... Ryuune. Watch Jupiter. Do not let him leave or be taken until I return. He will not be branded." Alois said, more to the chevalier at the last part. << The chevaliers awaited them in a nearby room. Morrison directed Alois to stand by the female chevalier, who would ensure the slaves stood in place while branded. He then greeted Chevalier Erin and watched as he heated up the branding iron with his blessing of fire manipulation. “Thank you,” Morrison took the iron from Erin and turned to Alois. He looked down to iron, inspecting the hot rod of metal for a moment before he approached the slave.>> Blindly she followed Morrison down the hall, watching Jupiter until the door was closed. Her breath was shaky and she was upset to say the least. As they walked, Alois grew antsy and angry. Her tail was swishing and she looked over her shoulder at the door that was getting further and further away. Morrison brought her to a room with two other Chevaliers. Too smug for her liking. While she was watching the mare chevalier, Morrison was given the branding iron and used his blessing to heat it. Alois spooked at it. The branding wasn't real until just then. She backed away and looked for an escape.<< “Stay still,” Morrison spoke, his tone firm. While he didn’t care for the pain it would cause, he did care about doing the job right, and he wanted to ensure no accidents would happen.>> The chevaliers partially drew swords to subdue her. She was scared and things were hectic. Morrison wasn't particularly careful with the iron and it grazed her face when she spooked, leaving a burn that wasn't intentional. She cried and turned away, but while she was doing so, the stallion pressed the iron into her shoulder, making her call out. << He brought the iron near the slave’s shoulder and pressed it into her skin, allowing it to keep contact for a few seconds before he pulled it away. The other chevaliers watched, ready to act if a problem arose.>> It was so hot and it hurt. They didn't care, Ethinians never did. <<With the first slave branded, Morrison handed the branding iron back to Chevalier Erin and proceeded to bring Alois back to the room. He could see the tears welling in her eyes.
“Wasn’t that difficult, now was it?” Morrison snickered.>> Alois said nothing for the first time in her life. Not defeated, just quiet. Morrison walked her back, tears in her eyes. She swallowed hard and sucked it up. She didn't want Jupiter to be scared or worried. She gathered energy stored god knows where after a day like this and used the "blessing" Ignacio had given her. Upon reentry, Alois kept her right side to the wall. She walked around the group and Motioned for Jupiter to come to her. She muttered a thank you to Ryuune and went to the corner of the room. She layed down and then used her gift to hide the burn over her eye. She stayed still and watched Jupiter. "Hey" she said to him, far hoarser than intended, "Be brave, just like Milo."
490
<<Morrison>>
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Post by moonlightwalk on Jan 7, 2017 14:36:55 GMT -6
Ryuune | Servile slave
Ryuune slightly stilled as the chevalier shouted. His skin was itching and he tossed an somewhat angry look at Isolt, feeling insulted in place of his master. "My master is a free horse. She only answers to what she wishes to answer to." Of course how could she understand? Servile and Labor slaves had different purposes and so did pit fighters. The door opened and Morrison walked in, sword drawn. Ryuune was quick to back away, half out of respect, half because he wanted to avoid injury. He began to babble, trying to get the chevalier to listen to his plea. Sir, please, there's been a mistake, the foal-" His voice servile and polite, head bowed, but it had no effect. The chevalier seemed to be set on his task, calling the mare foward. His eyes widened as she adressed him, leaving the kindling in his care. His muscles tensed and he quickly snapped his head up, nodding vigorously. "Y-yes, madam, I shall serve him well for the short time you are absent." He looked at the foal, but was not sure how to adress them. He hoped they would not panick at being left alone with strangers. "It will be okay." he said, feeling protective as he dutifully awaited as the branding took place. He could hear it and winced, moving closer yet not too close to the young superior. "It will all be okay," he repeated.
She came back retrieving the foal and Ryuune quietly bowed his head. He looked at the chevalier, again pleading softly to be heard.
Post 5 | 272 words
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Post by farquaadstarquad on Jan 8, 2017 15:35:59 GMT -6
Morrison watched the mare sulk off and return to the foal that she had been with previously. He observed her for a few, long moments, watching her cover the accidental burn that she had obtained on her face in the process of the branding. Some muffled words brought his attention back to the rest of the slaves. He could feel the tension from all of them as each looked to him with varyin degrees of worry and anger. Who would the scary chevalier pick next? Their anxiety provided a small source of amusement to Morrison.
It was Algren whom Morrison picked next.
Morrison stepped forward, though was careful not to stray far from the door. Even though he had back up chevaliers with him now, he still did not trust the slaves. Morrison knew that he would never hear the end of it if one chose to bolt.
“Boy,” Morrison addressed the colt, “you will be branded next. Let’s go.” He anticipated that the colt would make a more dramatic reaction to the branding than the mare did, due to his age. Children always had a tendency to be over dramatic.
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Post by catorb on Jan 9, 2017 4:14:33 GMT -6
Algren Aodh | Servile Slave
*Morrison
When the door opened again, and the chevalier entered, Algren shot to attention. His heart tightened for a second, as the stallions eyes gazed over him. But he chose the mother mare. As words were exchanged among the others, Algren's eyes focused on the opening between the chevalier and the door way. Could he fit through there? But the short thought had gone as quick at it had come. Algren lowered his head again, watching the legs of the grieving mare pass him by, and listening to the door falling shut. So it had started. They would be picked, one by one, to be marked down as slaves.
The roan colt was still trying to figure out the reason behind all this... This still seemed unfair, and unnecessary, Algren thought bitterly. Something must have happened. Perhaps it weren't vindicators, perhaps it had been slaves. Slaves that disobeyed, went out of bound. Then it hit him. Slaves that had escaped? It was a rare happening, but certainly not unheard of. Unlike Algren, there were many slaves that didn't like their position, and wanted a live of freedom. Many would try, but only few would succeed. Perhaps these slaves had succeeded. Escaped slaves were hard to track down among the common crowds of Hireath, but a marked one... Algren thought, his brow lowering. They had ruined it for the rest of them. Because THEY had to disobey, everyone else would have to pay!
Algren's face had a serious expression, his body not speaking any words. But inside...inside a fire roared with anger. Completely overpowering any other emotions. His heart tight and his stomach turned. The colt felt himself shaking, in the very ends of his hoofs. Even if he wasn't a 100% certain of his theory, it made the most sense now. And it was unfair! He suddenly thought of Illidis, his house mate. He too would be branded, a new scar to add to his collection. Algren closed his eyes, the sounds around him completely drowned out. Master Luciano... He would be furious. Not at him, or the chevaliers, but at whomever decided on this. Which rich, snobby, person of the royal council had come up with this idea, and whoever agreed on it!
Algren head shot up as he was called. He hadn't even realized the chevalier had returned, with the mare in tow. She passed them all, back into the dim room, but her shoulder that was probably marked, faced away from Algren, and so he couldn't see. But the smell was certainly there. The roan colt, took a hesitant step...before following the valiant stallion. Fear was crawling down his spine, but anger raged in his belly. How could they do this. Did this chevalier not think anything of it? The colt thought wild as he quietly followed the stallion down the corridor, and into a room. The smell of hot iron and burnt hair hung in the air. Algren seemingly calm, walked further inside. The other chevaliers present, took hold of him to keep him put. His eyes were forward, not wanting to acknowledge the situation. "You can't do this." He whispered under his breath. "I don't belong to the city... I belong to Master Luciano." His voice rose. "He will not be pleased with this." He didn't speak to himself, or the chevaliers. He spoke to Valore, to the royal council and household. It was all he could say, tough, because there was nothing he could do. He knew it wouldn't change a thing...
*Morrison heard the colt mumble. “The order to brand has come from the palace. Your master answers to the palace, regardless of what rank they hold,” he looked down at the colt with a harsh gaze. “And what the palace says is law.” He adjusted the branding iron in his telekinetic grasp, “Now, hold still.”
"Hold still." He heard someone say. A pressure was applied to his shoulder, and soon a searing heat followed. The smell of burnt hair and meat thickened the air, and Algren couldn't help but let out a struggled groan in pain, as his teeth were clamped down hard on his bit. The pain faintly subsided as the iron was removed and the colt instinctively lifted his leg. He let out a breath he'd been holding. It doused the fire within him. Both the anger and fear was gone now. He was defeated...
He calmly followed the chevalier once again, head low, jaw tight. The brand didn't hurt as much, to his relief, but it gave a annoying, humming pain non the less. Every time he took a step, moving his muscles, it washed over him. They finally made it back to the cel.
*The colt took surprisingly well to the brand. “You did well, boy,” Morrison told the colt before he swung the door open to the room.
For that short moment, Algren looked down the hallway as the chevalier made to open the door. He could make a run for it. Slip trough the alleyways like a rushing mountain creek. He could be swift ans slippery if he wanted too. Images of himself running thought the dark alleyways outside, back towards his home, ran through his mind. He knew exactly which paths to take, to make sure not to run into anyone. As long as he could reach the house, he'd be save... The fantasies lasted for only a split second, as he obediently walked back into the dim room. His eyes low, locking his jaw over and over to deal with the annoying pulsating pain of his brand. He calmly made his way back to his spot, backing up into the wall, and continued his focus on the small crack in the stone floor.
Algren Words: 879
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Post by mariahwhy on Jan 9, 2017 21:03:39 GMT -6
Isolt | Labor Slave
Isolt's head whipped around as the chevalier burst back into the cell, confirming what they'd already heard. She simply continued to smile at him, though, as she had the other slaves. Surely, the loyal slave that she was, she would be picked first for the city's brand. But as his gaze swept the room it seemed to pass right over her, not even considering the mule. Instead, he chose the other mare. The door shut behind them, and suddenly the cell seemed darker than ever. A new silence strangled them, even more fearful than the one before as they awaited Alois' return.
Isolt jostled from hoof to hoof, impatient. Nerves knotted her stomach, fear instinctively one of them, but the excitement overpowering it. Alois was perhaps the luckiest one - and not simply because Isolt had wanted to show off her brand first. It was that waiting was even worse than the immediate adrenaline upon hearing the news. Your thoughts would run wild with possibilities, and emotions became hard to reign in. She snorted, and began to pace. She wanted to get it over with! Yes, she wanted the brand, but that didn't mean that it wouldn't hurt, and not many could face pain without hesitation. The clicking of her hooves in the small space seemed loud, mixing with the murmurs of Ryuune to the foal.
It was only a few minutes before Alois returned. Isolt hardly noticed the mare, though, as the labor slave came to a stand still, head held high in confidence that she would go next - but Morrison again proved her wrong. This time it was the young roan, and Isolt's green eyes flashed with unconstrained envy. She had caught his glare towards her earlier, and it seemed terribly unfair that he'd go before her. She huffed once more, like a spoiled child that has not gotten their way. This time, when the door closed, the silence was filled with a forced understanding of what had happened. The smell of burnt hair and skin wafted through the cell, and Isolt turned to stare tactlessly at Alois. But she couldn't see the brand. It must be on her other side. Isolt fought back a strong urge to ask the mare to see it - if there was one thing you learned living with lots of other horses, unrelated to yourself and hardly considered friends, it was when not to ask questions. She watched Alois a moment longer, before turning back to the door. Would the chevalier choose her next, or would she have to continue waiting with this agonizing tension both surrounding her and gnawing at her from the inside.
(Post 6: 441 words)
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Post by Western-Witch on Jan 13, 2017 14:43:26 GMT -6
G A L L O W A Y | P I T S L A V E Gallow's intial adrenaline rush and defiance subsided violently and left him frozen in the cell. He watched as Alois was taken and brought back in, the acrid smell of burnt flesh following her like a tangible curse. His mind raced as he tried to come to terms with what was happening. Soon the roan colt was ushered out and Gallow's breath was becoming more and more shallow. He would never earn his freedom with a branding like this on his body. And then suddenly the colt was back, branded and silent. Gallow's resolve broke suddenly. He furrowed his brow and dared the Chevalier to usher him next. And he did. Gallow balked at actually being chosen next. He didn't fear pain, pit fighting killed that one, but he feared being owned permanently. Breathing heavily, Gallow hung his head low and followed the Chevalier, the chains around his hooves clanked ominously. His teeth clanged nervously around the bit forced into his mouth from earlier. He glanced back at the other slaves and wished they were all on the same page. If they all charged at once there would be more of a chance to escape without a branding. But two of them already were branded, one of them was a small scared Kindling, the mule had something off with her and the other grey roan was concerned with the Kindling foal. That reminded Gallow of the foals' actual status. He turned to the Chevalier, "The white foal isn't a slave, you better not brand that one." Gallow hoped he would listen to at least one of them if it was repeated enough. He thought he should at least say it before he tried to break for it. Gallow took a look at the hallway and saw a possible exit. Maybe just one or two Chevaliers stood guard. *The spotted stallion was the one whom Morrison expected the most resistance from, and the chevalier’s expectation came true.As they neared the door Gallow tensed and bolted. His chains dragged heavily, as he tried to escape. His eyes were wild and he could just almost taste the freedom. If he made it out of here, he was going all the way to the city's edge. He would regret leaving without saying goodbye to Jenko, but this was his chance--- *As soon as the stallion bolted, Morrison was upon him. The other chevaliers saw Gallow make his escape attempt and rushed out into the hallway to aid Morrison. He had spoken too soon, suddenly his legs were pulled from under him and he was tackled by three Chevaliers. Snagged to the ground there was nothing he could do as an order to brand Gallow was shouted down the hall. *With the runaway subdued, Chevalier Erin passed the iron over to Morrison. “Brand him here,” the younger chevalier told him. Suddenly the smell of hot iron filled Gallow's nostrils. "Let me go!" He screamed as the heat grew hotter as it neared his shoulder. Trying in once last ditch attempt he lashed out with his teeth snapping down on a Chevalier's hide. He got a kick in the face for that. *Morrison gave a nod. The stallion screamed and the chevalier’s increased the pressure of their hold on him. “Ay, next time you might want to reconsider makin’ a run for it when there’s chevaliers around, you idiot,” Morrison pressed the iron into the stallion’s shoulder and kept the contact for perhaps a little longer than necessary.Finally the iron found its mark. Gallow gasped and bit back involuntary tears, as the full realization of the meaning behind the pain set in. He now understood why the other two slaves walked in so broken. He was too as they shoved him back into their cell. *And when it was done, they ushered the stallion back to his feet. With the help of the armored mare, Morrison escorted the stallion back to the room. Why...what? He couldn't get his thoughts to settle together cohesively. He could only think of the throbbing pain of permanence on his shoulder. How would he escape now?
*Morrison Speaking
Post: #4
Word Count: 534
+15 FVR +10 AP +10 CS
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Post by catorb on Jan 15, 2017 7:26:26 GMT -6
Algren Aodh | Servile Slave
Time seemed to be non existing, and sounds were numbed out for the colt. He simply stood in his own little world, an invisible bubble around him. A weak and brittle shield, that couldn't really protect him from anything. It could only give him some comfort and serenity, at least, that's what Algren thought it did. As long as he kept himself still, the freshly made mark on his shoulder only softly brooded with and uncomfortable itch. But as soon as he'd shift his weight, the marred muscles and skin that would ripple underneath the brand would feel all fired up again. The nasty smell it brought, both coming from him and the mother mare, started to make him sick to his stomach. That smell wouldn't leave his nose for many days to come...
He wore a grim face, as he thought of Illidis. If the chevaliers would get their hooves on him, he would have to go through this too. The colt had seen his scars many times, and, although never down right asked anyone about them, he'd heard whispered of how the poor stallion had gotten them. It clearly was connected to the broken spirit he had, and his so very skittish nature. He'd suffered a lot, and this brand might be the tipping point for him...
Suddenly Algren was brought from his thoughts, as he heard commotion outside. Unknowingly he'd registered that the chained pit fighter had been brought out as next victim. But from noise outside in the hallway, it sounded like he tried to make a break for it. The roan colt held his breath, listening carefully, wondering if the black stallion had succeeded. But Algren didn't even look up as the pitfighter was brought back in, just as quiet as they, and the same nasty scent trailing behind him.
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Post by mariahwhy on Jan 17, 2017 20:46:54 GMT -6
Isolt | Labor Slave
*Chevalier Morrison
Isolt would have continued her pacing, but due to the cramped conditions of the cell she gave up to shuffle from hoof to hoof restlessly. Algren was chosen next, and returned as downcast as Alois. The mule's eyes tracked the chevalier hopefully, but, once again, she was left waiting. He took the pit slave this time, and Isolt was hardly surprised when Gallow bolted towards the door. "You fool," she muttered, mostly to herself, but her whole body tensed in anticipation. As she had experienced before, when one slave bolted, the others often followed. She had no plans to revolt, but if she did not steel herself she may be run over in the others' desperate escape. But the door was slammed shut before anyone had a chance to even move a hoof. A muffled thump was heard, followed by shouting from Gallow. He had been run down. You always would be. Isolt knew that from experience.
Dark tendrils of her childhood escapes snaked into her mind, and she turned to look once more at the small, white foal. He must already be so afraid, and the show that Gallow just put on certainly wouldn't help. Isolt didn't dare, but she wanted to tell Jupiter not to fear. For the other adults in the room had forgotten - forgotten who they truly belonged to. Slaves often were led astray, thinking that other beings of flesh and blood owned them. That horses, hardly different from themselves, had the power to whip and chain them. But as a Labor Slave, I know the truth. I am owned not by a horse, but by the city itself. Not by even the King - no, he is simply a vessel. She, as they all were, were owned by Ignacio. To please and serve him.
If they could only remember that, perhaps they would not be so angry, she thought, turning her head as the door opened once more.
The brand seemed to break all of them, even Gallow with his rage. But it could not break her pride. She lifted her head high, looking down on the chevalier as he chose his next target - and it was finally her.
Though the mule did not seem likely to bolt, Morrison told himself to be prepared should the mule try to. Her smile seemed odd considering the situation at hand, but Morrison was thankful for her compliance in the situation. She should be set as an example for the others, he thought to himself.
With head high and a determined smile she followed him from the room, her heart pounding in her ears. Her knees shook, and her stomach rolled. The hallway was now heavily filled with the smell of the hot iron, burnt hair and skin, and sweat - both fear from the slaves and tension from the chevaliers. She stood where they told her to, willing herself to stay upright as she watched the one holding the brand begin to reheat it. The brand shifted from a hot red to a bright orange, as if the metal dragon itself was coming to life. Isolt was glad to see it was the city's symbol, and not some random number. All the better. But her smile wavered as the brand was passed along to Morrison. No matter how much she wanted the brand it was bound to hurt. She suddenly wished they could have come up from behind her and done it quickly, instead of coming at her from the front. The instinct of running from fire was hard to fight, even for one of Ignacio's loyal children.
She bit her lip, but could not take her eye off the brand as it crept closer and closer. She could smell it. Now she could feel the heat as it passed by. Then, before she could even process that it was happening, it was pressed deep into her shoulder. She gasped, and jerked her head down, eyes closed, but forced herself to not move away. She was acutely aware of the strongly increased smell of burnt hair, and of the hiss that the brand made against her. It took only a few seconds for the heat to burn through her nerve endings, but those seconds involved a pain she could have never expected. Even when, technically, she could no longer feel it, the pain throbbed deep into her shoulder muscle, her body rejecting the intense heat.
With deed done, Morrision ushered the mare back to the cell. Only a handful of slaves in the cell remained to be branded, and Morrison intended to the have the job over and done with in a timely manner.
By the time that the mule realized the brand had been lifted she was being roughly turned back towards the cell. She reopened her eyes, and tried to glance back at her shoulder, but it hurt too much to turn her neck to the side and cause the skin near the brand to wrinkle. She would look at it later.She knew it was there, and that was all that mattered. She carried a dragon on her now, and she carried it proudly. Though the pain still ebbed through her, she gathered herself as best she could, and reentered the cell with as much poise as she had left it.
(Post 7: 793 words)
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Post by MusicalMagpie on Jan 17, 2017 21:57:55 GMT -6
Jupiter | Kindling
Jupiter watched as Alois was led away. The little colt had been shuffled over to Ryuune, a face that in such short time he had come to trust. He shivered in place, gulping back fear and nodding at Ryuune's words. "It will all be okay," It will be okay. Everything will be okay. Mom will be back soon, she just has to chat with the big horse. His breathing became erratic as he tried to gasp back tears.
"Okay, I'm brave. I'm brave." He began reassuring himself. A strange sound hissed in from outside the cell and a smell not unlike grandpa's kiln wafted in. Something's wrong. It smelled like when ever grandpa burned himself and it was a smell Jupiter did not like. When Alois reentered the room the white colt blinked away the early wetness of tears and started forward at her beckoning. He cast a teary eyed smile to Ryuune. "It's all okay. Be brave!" He chirped with a hiccup. Jupiter skittered to Alois as fast as he could, nestling down beside her. Right, yeah. Be braver than Milo. Pink-ruby eyes stared up at her face, "Alright Mom, I'm brave. We both are brave. Right"?
The big horse came back, calling Algren next. As the roan colt left that very same hiss and ashy smell played around the room. He sunk lower to the floor and whined, "Where's Mama? I want Mama." The smells from outside mingled with the air of tension. It all danced around the child's head like a bully on the play ground. The one with the big ears had changed. The way she paced about the room. The look she gave his mother upon her return. She was no longer a new face to behold, but some kind of vulture, anxious for it's turn at a carcass.
When the big spotty horse, Galloway, was taken away he was followed by a ruckus. Shouts rang about off the walls to join the other jesting senses that played above the colt's head. He pinched his eyes shut squeezing a weak tear out. "I want Mama!" He suddenly screamed. It was a weak scream, but a cry for help no less. More tears welled and streamed away from his eyes. Jupiter sucked in a ragged gasp and pleaded into Alois' side again, "I want Mama!"
He hardly even noticed Galloway returning or even Isolt leaving. The colt had preoccupied himself with trying to control his quivering breaths. Be brave. Be brave. The words echoed in his head like hooves on cold stone. His gasping ceased, but hot tears still rolled down his face. He began trying to comfort himself. What was that song Mama would sing? Something grandpa taught them all when the colt wouldn't sleep.
"Bright is the sun that casts its light on you
Shy not from its warmth nor fear its golden grace
Wait for it dear, to come into view
For when the morn’ comes the light will rest on you"
Jupiter sang to himself quietly. It was the only part he could remember so he kept repeating the lines accordingly. Anything to make the time pass to morning.
Word Count - 527
Post - 5
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Post by moonlightwalk on Jan 22, 2017 4:25:34 GMT -6
Ryuune | Servile slave
Ryuune couldn't help but smile as the foal put on a brave face and shuffled away with his mother. He watched as soon the other youngling paraded outside and brought back. Ryuune's muscles trembled, sympathy pains shooting through him as he saw and more so smelled the marks. He wondered if it hurt a lot. After the youngest, it was the rowdy stallion's turn. He tensed as commotion could be heard, closing his eyes for a second and wishing he could do the same to his ears. This was not how it was supossed to go. Could the stallion not just be quiet about it? Perhaps he was just scared. The foal's outcry, made him jump. It was wrong. A room full of slaves and still a free one was crying. But what could he do? His nurse maid was already trying to sooth him. It was the chevaliers' fault, having placed the young free horse in this situation. Soon enough he was brought in again, looking positively rattled. Maybe it was his turn now. Oh no, the mule was picked. He watched again as she went out with no complaints and felt certain admiration for the way she handled this situation. He himself couldn't help the fear that coursed through him.
A small voice could be heard in the quiet room, making Ryuune's heart break as he realised it was the youngest colt singing to himself. When the chevalier re-entered, he rushed to place himself between between the the two and the door. There were the only two left and Ryuune was not sure if he had listened to anything that had been said. Whatever happened, it was his turn now. No free horse would be branded today, not on his watch. His eyes sought out the chevalier, a certain light in them that almost challanged the stallion to try pick that foal over him. It was gleam that was normally not seen in generally submissive eyes.
"Sir," he said calmly, politely, but loud and clear in front of the whole room. "The foal is not a slave! It would be a mistake to mark a free horse a slave." His held a certain desperation, wanting to be heard, understood, needing to even. It would turn Ryuune's already unstable world upside down if such thing were to happen. It was against anything he had been taught, the proverbial foundation on which his life had been built. What give meaning to his uncertain and confusing existance. And so he did not move and inch from in front of Jupiter and Alois, willing to defend his rights even against the chevalier himself.
<<< Morrison looked down upon Ryuune. “What in Ignacio’s name are you babbling about?” he growled, though was curious as to why the slave was so defensive over the colt. Morrison looked to the colt and looked him over. He was skeptical of course, slaves were not trustworthy beings to him in the current situation. However Morrison could see that the boy did not wear a bridle like the other slaves in the room.
“The colt will be spared from the branding...for now,” Morrison spoke, “I will have the other chevaliers confirm his status after I brand you.” He turned back Ryuune. “Let's go, slave,” he gave Ryuune a shove towards the door. >>>
Yes, yes! He mentally sheered at the chevalier's words. Go and verify, set right this terrible wrong. He nodded his thanks to the chevalier, thankful he had listened. His celebration was short lived though.
Like a cold bucket of water, the realisation that he indeed was to be branded next hit him, making his previous rebelious attitude flush out of him in an instant. Sudden dreath coursed through him, making his stomach knot up and making the stallion nauseous. He didn't want to be branded, not by the city at least. He wanted to be branded by Deidra, the mark of a good slave. Still he stepped forward, muscles switching between tensing and relaxing. He didn't want to be branded, but he was not in the position to question those above him in matters that concerned himself. So he followed meekly, letting himself be lead of. Would the brand make him less interesting to his future owner? But all slaves would be receiving them right? Perhaps they would be pleased with it.
As he stood still, he closed his eyes. He didn't want to see the iron be passed around. He couldn't control his trembling. It would be painful and the stallion realized he could not remember expierencing true pain in the short period of his life he could remember. Sure he had bumped into things, but he didn't think that accounted as real pain. Yet while he could not remember a single instance, his body told him it was not something he wanted to feel. Perhaps it was instinct, perhaps he had indeed been in serious pain before. The scars on his leg could be explained as such. Either way the fear made Ryuune nauseous.
It's all okay, be brave. The words the youngest colt had uttered came back to him. Yes, he needed to be brave. "Be brave, be brave, be brave." Ryuune uttered to himself.
He wanted to be brave but the iron hitting his flesh hurt. It was the worst thing he ever felt and he cried out at the burning sensation. Involuntary tears rolled down his face as he tried to regulate the pain, feeling dizzy at the sudden sensation. He tried to hold up, but as he was ushered back, the smell of burned flesh reached his nostril and had him emptying his stomach on the floor. Embarrased, he mumbled a quick 'sorry' and made towards the door. His entrance was anything but impressive as he stumbled back to stand in front of Jupiter again, avoiding stepping on the leg which had been branded. Sweat made him feel cold and he hoped they'd all be released soon now the branding was, to him, over. He wanted to curl up in his bed and sleep off this horrible day.
Post 6 | 901 words
<<< text between brackets are morrisons words/perspective >>>
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Post by mariahwhy on Jan 22, 2017 11:56:58 GMT -6
 You now bear the dragon of Aodh on your skin, and all other slaves will soon follow suit. This brand marks you as a slave of the city, that others may identify your rank at a glance. Never again shall a crime, such as the recent death of the chevaliers, be committed and the slaves responsible walk free among the citizens. Don't despair though - your pleas did not go unheard, and the foal, Jupiter, walks free unmarked. |
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