A new life (Cheshire x Octo)

[UltraMechaStalin]

The sea was calm, though a blanket of fog had crept over it's glassy surface, obscuring the shoreline. Silently a massive wooden vessel glided across the smooth waters, propelled by 20 or so long shafted thick paddles. The bow of the warship was crafted into the likeness of a serpent's head, it's structure reinforced by shining metal. On the absolute tip of the embellishment's head stood a tall but slender man, his well muscled figure hidden within the confines of a thick black woolen cloak. Gracefully he raised a curled horn to his lips and began to blow, allowing the low, echoing bellow to roll out across the seascape, it's haunting cry radiating towards the shore.


One by one similar horns answered in an attempt to help guide the vessel to it's hidden port by sound alone. All was silent on the deck of the warship as the crew navigated. Again the ship's horn sounded, and again the guides on shore answered, welcoming home the raiding party.

Of course, the welcome would not be so warm for the pretty little thrall that the hunting party had found during it's morning stalk. It was a long walk across that chilled tundra, especially in the heavy iron shackles of a prisoner.

 

[O C T O x p o d]

Celyn had been crouched in the floor of the dragon boat, bound and shackled but still as silent as the fog rolling over the land. She was tall for a woman, powerful muscles lending her figure a graceful strength that was wholly feminine. A tunic of olive drab was belted simply at her slight waist and russet leggings were stuffed into fur lined boots. At her neck had once been golden torque twisted around her neck, the bulbous ends nesting in the hollow of her throat but now she felt naked without it, the barbarians had ripped it from her unconscious body. Pale skin was luminous in the gray light and given an eerie pallor by the ghosts of swirling blue woad tattoos. Brown eyes as deep and dark as the earth glared out from under screaming, fire red braids the fell heavily just past her shoulders.

She seemed to be a normal tribes woman, though she wore leggings, but it the blue designs in her skin and the golden collar set Celyn in the fuzzy class between warriors and druids. At her belt she had worn the short, bronze leaf shaped sword was a warrior woman as well as the silver curved sickle for cutting holy holly and holy sacrifices. When the invaders had raided her land, she had used everything she'd known to fight them off but a quick blow to the back of her head left her incapable of anything until she'd regain consciousness. She'd regained consciousness aboard a ship. A ship crewed by the invaders.

Shivering, telling herself it was just the clammy fog, Celyn listened to the unearthly cry of the horn. For the first time since she'd awoken, Celyn spoke. It was barely more than a croaking whisper, but it sounded loud it the deathly still air, "What do you plan for me?" It was directed to the man at the helm, who seemed to be in charge. There was no fear, though her voice quavered with thirst and disuse. Celyn sat straightly and with her fine jaw was set at a proud, if uncomfortable, angle.

 

[UltraMechaStalin]

"Your future is as of yet undetermined. I expect you shall be rewarded to he who the warchief finds most deserving."

When the man spoke his voice was surprisingly calm, a low growl that could barely be deciphered over the crashing waves. Though he was not actively steering the ship, he was certainly enjoying the view such a high position offered. Raider captain, and one of the assembled tribes' leading warlords, performing such a mundane task as steering the ship was below his station. After a moment or two more of just watching the open sea the man made his way slowly over to the bound prisoner laying upon the floorboards of the ship.

The scrutinizing gaze was piercing, the man looked her over, inspecting both the remarkable strength her figure held, and it's feminine beauty. Such close observations triggered a shift in the man's stance, before he'd been relaxed and distant, his focus elsewhere on other things...But now, being in the proximity of such a woman, bound in submission made his previous disposition hard to maintain. From quiet observer to bristling Alpha, the change had been immediate. Involuntarily the man found himself standing straighter, making sure that his strongest features were displayed.

He was tall, standing at roughly 6'4, his body was slender compared to his fellow raiders, though his muscles had a corded quality to them that definitely indicated that his lack of mass did not equate to a lack of strength. It was as if the other warriors were bears, and this man a panther, more sleek and streamlined but just as strong, and just as deadly.

He was dressed in dark treated leather leggings, a white hide tunic stained and decorated with crimson bands, with a thick cloak of black bear fur hanging tight around him, blocking out the frigid mist of the sea. His face, sharp but handsome was partially obscured by a mane of raven hair, long silken strands black as night itself that gave a striking contrast to his pale skin. Unlike his companions however, he wore no ceremonial war paint. Instead, he'd been marked with something more important.

3 scars, one at the left, center, and right part of his right eyebrow stretched down to his jaw, thick at the eyebrow but tapering to points at the jaw. The scars had been treated with dyes and tinctures so that they'd blacken as they healed, until they seemed more like tattoos than battle-scars. Although, for all his qualities the most strange had to be the man's eyes, two orbs of vivid topaz who's held the intensity of the sun itself.

 

[O C T O x p o d]

"I'd rather roam the Earth as a ravening ghost, wailing and crying for eternity rather than be," She spat at the other man's feet, "A reward." Celyn's voice was harsh now with subdued anger. She leaned back against the walls of the flat ship, meeting the invader's eyes, but she realized his gaze was elsewhere. Roaming over her body, that's where. Raising a sardonic eyebrow, Celyn stretched out her long legs and huffed.

Growling under her breath to herself she muttered, "Or anything else to an invader." Though she had looked away from the man towering above her at the helm, she felt her gaze pulled back to him. His stance had changed and something about it triggered her animal sense of the predator within him. Between that and the scar cris-crossing his skin, his stance, and air of absolute will made her realize that if it did come down to the split of loot, he'd probably get the lion's share and that included her. She'd shouldn't goad him, but not fighting was completely against her nature. Instead she settling for grumbling, "Who are you anyway?"

 

[UltraMechaStalin]

"You are in no position to demand names, you may call me master."

Those eyes were cold and merciless as he stared down at the woman, that sharp silvered tongue of his prepared to retaliate should she give any witty retort. When Vallios spoke again, his voice was low, just enough for her to hear. Now he'd probe her, find the weak points in her mind and tear them apart.

"Why so bitter? I can see by your sickle that you follow the goddess...If you follow the goddess, it means you follow her laws."

Now of course, Vallios was speaking of the savage and bestial she-wolf goddess that his people revered. Their shamans and oracles taught that Survival of the Fittest, the law of the wilds ruled everywhere, in every aspect of life. And so, Vallios assumed that a woman garbed in similar holy trappings would have the same understanding of the world.

"Survival of the fittest."

 

[O C T O x p o d]

"I will demand your name if I so choose." Her head titled cockily, goading him. There she sat, bound and surrounded by the enemy and yet she still she irritated whoever she could. Maybe, Celyn thought, they'd just give up and kill her. With false cheerfulness she smirk and continued sweetly, "So then, what... is... your...name?"

Laughing derisively at his assumption. "I do not follow your false goddess. I have many gods, for there is a god in every rock and tree and bush and all of them will give me the strength to beat any ordeal." Her voice rang like a bell with certainty. She sniffed a bit arrogantly at his ignorance, "My silver sickle is solely for sacrifices, but if need be I'll use it to slit my own throat." Celyn tossed back braids that had fallen in her face and attempted to look out over the water, wandering how much longer she'd have to endure this swaying boat and dreadful sailors.

 

[UltraMechaStalin]

"Mighty words for one of such weak stock. But your fire is impressive, perhaps you'll find a station above serving wench in this life."

The way she fought, even against such odds. Such a dominant spirit! Vallios found it irresistable, the urge to break her to his will, to make her subservient. Slowly Vallios began to pace, around the woman, watching her as he did so. First, he bent down and retrieved her silver sickle, swaggering over to the deck of the ship and dropping it, letting it fall to the waiting sea below with a splash.

"That artifact of your past is something you'll need no longer. If you wish to survive, forget who you once were and accept the fact that fate has preserved you, be thankful for it."

The male then knelt down beside her and let out a soft laugh, before tilting his head slightly and peering into her eyes, trying to understand what gave her such fire. This one's gifting would certainly be interesting, he imagined she wouldn't be crying and pleading for a different fate, as opposed to most slave girls they captured.

 

[O C T O x p o d]

"Psh, I'm not 'weak stock'. Not only am I warrior, but a druid to boot. I would not make a good serving wench. Or any wench at all." Celyn had smirked at the idea of herself serving anyone, except the gods, and this man was no god. She watched intrigued, then worried, when he took her sickle. She guessed what he would do only seconds before her beloved weapon splashed into the waves.

"Wait, no-!" She stared wide eyed over where her sickle had been dropped before she slammed her jaw shut and swiveled her glare to the man now crouched beside her. Before Celyn had been merely anger at her captures, and herself for getting captured, but now she felt the warm blush of hatred kindling inside her breast. Celyn stared searchingly at him before leaning close, as if to kiss, whispering, "I will serve when the highest mountain is worn away by the beating of butterfly wings." Her breath was sweet and hot, caressing across his skin. Then she bit him.

 

[UltraMechaStalin]

It was amazing, how close love and hatred could be. The bite, especially to the neck did at first cause a reaction of slight arousal, but then the pain came. Her grip on his neck was tight, 'twas fortunate she was no she-wolf...Though she certainly had the spirit of one. With a jerk he was free of her grasp, though now his neck had bloody toothmarks in it. Such a sleight would surely not go unpunished!

"Vallios, we near harbor! Quit messing with the tro..."

"Brunal, I do believe he is quite busy."

Two of the ship's crew were watching the struggle, amused by what was transpiring. Such closeness would lead one to believe that Vallios was about to desecrate the young captive, though such an act would surely be out of character for him. And so, intrigued the two continued watching, wondering what would happen.

And so the man, obviously known as Vallios reciprocated the assault. But first he kicked her sword far out of arms reach. Then, he moved to pin her beneath him, situated in a manner that further helped him press leverage over her. He was however, mindful of his stance and did have his more sensitive parts out of the reach of her knees. With one swift movement Vallios broke the restraints that held the woman, accepting what she may not have intended as a challenge. With a swift, vicious motion Vallios repaid her bite with his own, gaining a firm hold on her neck, right at the point where shoulder and throat met.


And so the two were entwined, hips to hips, and lips to neck. Vallios held the woman's hands above her head, keeping her restrained in this position. He waited for her to fight back, relishing this sudden, this personal struggle for dominance, or for her freedom. Either way, it was absolutely electrifying.