Old IC Thread [Taming The Flame]

[Naxtaroth]

Sheut was frozen on the spot. The ships sailed away, the Harbor getting smaller, but all he could focus on was that gaze. That smile that was so full of malice. There was no mistaking that the Necromancers had revived his father and it all made sense now. The door, the symbol, the sunken-eyed man. That must be how Pakhta had gotten into the city so easily. When he had looked into the sunken eyes, he had thought he was looking at someone inside the building, when in reality he was looking at someone thousands of miles away.


He let himself collapse on the boat, sitting there, his gaze still forward, but his view blocked by the wood of the ship. He was starting to doubt everything he had done as a child. How could he tell what was true and what wasn't. The gaps in his memory were plentiful and only one had disappeared. He still couldn't shake that memory. His father, so heartless and cold, forcefully trapping memories he did not want Sheut remembering. He wondered just how many times he had witnessed something his father didn't want him to know.


He was so lost in his thoughts about his father and over the loss of Apophis that he didn't even notice the fox pup trying to get his attention. He just stared ahead, seemingly interested in the wooden planks that the ship was made of. There were others on board who had this same look in their eyes. A look of complete desolation, loss, and horror at what they had witnessed. For once he was not an outcast. Everyone on this ship faced similar losses and similar horrors.


Yet, he still felt like an outcast. He knew everyone on this ship would hate the Necromancers. They would hate any form of undead. Sheut, however, would try to find a way to revive Apophis. He couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of being an outcast among outcasts, which got him plenty of dirty looks and strange glances. After all, who but a mad man would laugh after witnessing a city burned to the ground, the people slaughtered mercilessly by beings of complete evil.

 

[BlaineInTheButt]

The celebration continued on into the night, cheers and loud music could be heard from all over. Loenth was spending some 'quality' time with Teranii, which was cut short by shrieking coming from outside the venue. A Sharian male looked through the blinds of one of the windows to discover the horror ensuing. Shiole peered through another window, as an atrocity slammed itself into the window, earning a string of profanities escaping Shiole's lips in surprise. He looked to the group of people behind him who were waiting for his reaction. His eyes locked on to Loenth, who knew what they needed to do.


"EVERYBODY! LEAVE EVERYTHING AND GET OUT! NOW!" They shouted in unison, with Shiole running toward the back door while Loenth began pushing people to Shiole's direction. He needed to get to the front door, in hopes that he would be fighting off some monstrosities. Bumping into Teranii, he looked her once over, planting a peck on her forehead then pushed past her, getting to the door. Loenth peered through the window watching as citizen after citizen were carried into the air then dropped from 10 to 20 feet, others torn apart. A gruesome sight indeed.


Banging on the door made heads turn and others pushing much more faster to reach the door. "Wylor! You won't be able to defend the door yourself! Get over here and get out!" Shiole cried through the screams and shrieks of everyone else. Loenth didn't falter. He knew he could do it, maybe not as quickly, but he knew he could. "Ri'amiena! You bastard! Just go!" He yelled unsheathing his blade, ready for whatever came at him. The banging stopped, which alerted Loenth much more. Screams pierced through the silence, to which Loenth knew he made a big mistake. He turned to find the creature plucking up Sharian after Mjulnir after Sharian from the exit. "Shit." Loenth muttered running to the backdoor with Shiole by his side.


They got out, watching the horror before their eyes. "Wylor! We've got to get to safety!" Shiole yelled at him, pulling him into the darkness. This surprised Loenth quite a bit. "What about the others?!" He replied, unsure of what to do. Shiole stopped in his tracks, looking over to Loenth. "Do you really think we'd be able to save them?" He murmured, venom obvious in his tone. 'Well now, this is not the Shiole I know..' Loenth thought, quickly picking up pace as they walked in the darkness. As they reached the exit, they could see citizens running out the gates. Sheating his blade, Loenth turned his head to look at Shiole, motioning him to follow the crowd and run. At the next moment, something flew by, causing Loenth to crash at Shiole who was behind him. "Damned creature.." He muttered, getting back up, looking back to the crowd that continued running.


"NOW!" He cried, running out to the crowd, hoping to not get picked up by the creatures. He jumped, he climbed he ran, eventually mixing into the crowd of people. He turned to find Shiole nowhere behind him. "What in the.." He muttered, stopping dead in his tracks. He looked around, turning left and right, only to find Shiole being carried up by a creature of the dark. "Wylor! Help me!" He cried, his eyes locked onto Loenth's cold, unforgiving ones. "Do you think I'll be able to save you?!" He cried out, turning his back on Shiole, running up to the what seemed to be the docks.


He quickly and quietly got up onto one of the boats, all sorts of races on it. He quickly found someplace to sit, and leaned against a crate beside him. "I need a good drink.." He muttered, swiping his face in all his stressed out self.

 

[The Lady Kitsunerisu]

~*~*~*~Flashback~*~*~*~

​

“How many times have I fucking time have I asked you to not do that you little rat?” A big burly man screamed at Jenesari, drawing his hand back to strike him. “You have already had your supper!” He screeched before slapping the Fox pup across the face. Jenesari was thrown backwards by the force, red filling his vision. “Little piece of shite, stay out of the food stores!” He drew his hand back to strike again, but that was when Jenesari's mother came into the room, looking for where her pup had gone. The second she saw him she quickly scooped him up, said quick apologies to her master before scrambling back out. There was only one day in the week where the family of Sharian's could wander around freely, but if they were caught outside of the perimeter they would be killed instantly, no mercy given, and if they hadn't had Jenesari, his parents may have madea run for it already, but there was too much at risk to run. They tended to just catch the little ones again and put them through a training procedure that was said to make some pups go mad and kill anything that crossed their path, including family members.


When they entered where their cages were kept his mother set him on the ground, a stern look on her face. “How many times have I told you to not go into the stores?”


“Hungry,” was his only answer.


“We're all hungry, but do you see us trying to steal food from the masters?”


“No,” he looked to the ground, suddenly feeling ashamed of what he had attempted to do.


“Do you realize how dangerous it is to disobey the masters?” Tears were in her eyes. She knew that she had been close to losing her child.


“They don't feed enough,” he muttered petulantly.


“We get fed more than the other slaves do. We are a loyal family, and they have rewarded that.


“Not enough.”


“Would you rather starve?”


“Close to starving already,” Jenesari was beginning to get angry at this point.


“You are ungrateful for what we have been able to provide for you. You are treated better than the other slaves, yet you still cry for more!” She screamed at him.


Jenesari cringed and walked backwards until he was in a corner of the tent. He then slid down until he was sitting. His head went to his knees. To hide ones face was to admit defeat. He didn't know for how long his mother had stared at him, all he knew was that when he finally looked up from his position that she was gone, and that he was alone...


Jenesari was awoken by a pained scream. His mouth was hanging open, his breathing heavy. He had been “sweating” from the memory that had been repressed within his psyche. Another pained scream drifted to his ears, putting him on edge. He wasn't halfway up from his position on the floor before there was a loud crash at his door. He wobbled up to his feet, backing away from the door quickly. Something didn't smell right, even in his sleep deprived state he knew that. It smelt of rotten meat, and the noises that were now coming from the other side of the door were not quite right either. There was wet breathing, and hisses. Each and every single sound that came from the other side of the door was unnatural.


Jenesari began to look around for a weapon finding a leather hilt dagger that Zevran had left behind. He heard the click of the lock being undone and he dove for the weapon. The second his hand touched the cool leather grip he heard the door slam open, then slam back shut. He spun in place quickly; tossing the scabbard to the side. His eyes locked onto gray, cold, dead eyes. He stood his ground as his eyes gave the creature a once over.


Fur was torn away from flesh, flesh was ripped away to reveal muscle, and muscle was ripped away to reveal bone. This creature looked as if it had been laying within the ground for quite a few months and had decided tow walk amongst the living once again.


“Undead,” Jenesari growled. His fur went on end, a snarl curled his upper lip, and rage began to fill him. These creature were dangerous; and had no right to be walking amongst the living. They belonged in the ground. The undead creature used to be a child Sharian, looking do be white in colour where there wasn't dried blood, and it also looked to be canine in nature. It moved one foot forward, reaching out for Jenesari. That was when Jenesari's vision turned red, then black.


When he awoke once again he was on the ship, watching as the Jackal Sharian collapsed onto the deck. Jenesari didn't remember anything that had happened in the last hour, and needed to get answers. He quickly walked over to Sheut. He put his small paw on the Sharian's big bicep, but didn't get any response from him.


“Sheut,” he said, wanting to dig his claws into the arm. “Sheut!”

 

[Pequeno Burraidh]

What with the bolt having only done minimal damage, as far as bolts go, to her leg, it meant that it was a quick fix of removing the bolt and stitching the wound. That, in turn, meant that it took less time than Brae had anticipated before her wound was tied and she was up and doing her best to move through the small crowds on the ship.


Being sure to step lightly on her right leg, and not bump it against anything, Brae couldn't help but find herself happy to be on the way out of Shan Manrir. While she didn't approve of its fate, she also didn't approve of her technically illegal imprisonment, and she highly doubted that a Sharian lass such as herself would have been simply imprisoned, but more than likely loopholed into some form of degrading servitude or another.


Making her way past the other's on the ship, Brae made a beeline for the prow of the ship. Once there she perched herself on the guardrail and closed her eyes at the feeling of the sea air rushing past her face. As she sat, her back to the rest of the ship, she pulled around her crossbow and began running her hand-claws over it, her fingers poking and probing for any damage, any new dent, nick or scrape. She didn't need eyes for this job.


Almost unnoticed by Brae, her eyes grew moist as an overwhelming sadness took her. In the face of the destruction wrought upon Shan Manrir by the undead. Her heart hurt not for anything specific that had happened to her, but instead in shared pain and suffering of those who had been displaced. This catastrophe had surely left widows, widowers, orphans, and parents who could never have imagined outlasting their children, even in their worst nightmares.


Finishing her check over her weapon, and finishing her dwelling on the negative, Brae opened her eyes to the sea before her. Her thoughts doing there best to keep from the negative thoughts of her loneliness, she could only hope that someone would come along with some good news soon.

 

[Naxtaroth]

Sheut, lost in his thoughts, didn't notice the pup until he had full out punched Sheut's shoulder. Snapping due to the leftover adrenaline that was slowly wearing off, Sheut stood and turned on the boy, expecting a fight, but lowered his guard when he saw who it was.


"Hello, pup. I am sorry for turning on you so quickly. I am tense from the battle and I was deep in thought. i did not know you were trying to talk to me."





He stared down into the boy's eyes, seeing the question there. How could he tell the pup? How could he break the news to him that his savior was now dead? Rather than addressing the situation then and there, Sheut put a hand on the boy's shoulder and looked into his eyes.





"You look famished let's get you some-"





His sentence was cut short and he broke eye contact as he saw the feline woman from the forest walk past and head to the prow. Sheut looked back down and gave the boy an apologetic look.





"Hold that thought, there is someone I need to talk to. Please, follow me if you wish. I will introduce you to her."





Walking away from the pup, he figured that he would follow. He made his way up to the prow and stood beside the woman, leaning his back against the guardrail. He looked straight ahead, but spoke directly to her.





"I don't believe I ever got your name back in the forest. I'm Sheut, Prince and rightful King of Chamorest."

 

[Pequeno Burraidh]

Hearing the creaking wood behind her, Brae was not surprised to hear a voice behind her. She hadn't been expecting to recognise the voice though. Looking over her shoulder, Brae was actually relieved to see the massive canid Sharian she'd followed out to the forests outside Shan Manrir. Behind him was a small fox-esque Sharian that appeared to be nearly a foot taller than herself.


Altering her seated position so that she had one foot-paw on the rail, her knee drawn up to her chest, she gave the canid Sharian, Shuet, a smile.


"Brae Irvette. Hunter and... well, currently displaced resident of Nalor. It is good to see a friendly face made it to safety out of Shan Manrir." Brae greeted, genuinely pleased that someone she recognised had made it out, and also pleased that he didn't seem to have made her out as the one that had followed him in the woods, "Who is your friend back there?"