Post by Omarion on Sept 22, 2009 0:23:02 GMT -5
The proteje to Omarion walked slowly behind his teacher, unconscious vampire slung over his body like a sack of meat. Some of her blood had stained his armor, while another collection of it had stained the ruined the crest of the Rashieka on his chest, the crest that he himself had put a slash through as a show of loyalty to the general. Murskiel’s dark colored eyes carefully observed the path ahead, seeing it clearly led straight to the gates of Namaesti, their home away from home. Him and hi party had run into the strategist after seemingly defeating two vampires in combat alone. He did have his injuries to show for it but for the most part they were minor and therefore, nothing to truly mention as a badge of honor. Black hair hung loosely over his eyes, bobbing with each step he took. The proteje had to take extra care not to skewer this female vampire with the weapons resting on his back, Omarion would not have been happy if such a thing were too occur.
Leisurely, the angel lifted the body with one arm as the other moved over as he adjusted his pauldrons. The woman’s weight was making his shoulder protection slide out of place occasionally, but he couldn’t do anything about it permanently until they got to the slave pens. Carefully, he lowered the light weight back onto his shoulder as the group of 4 moved forward, just now getting to the tall gates of the angelic stronghold. Door guards were on duty and already pulling the entrance opened, allowing entrance to their leader and the hunting team of three, along with the extra slave walking near them. Besides the strategist walking ahead of him, Gerkias and Kylan both walked confidently. Kylan quite simply held a held a rope laced around the still conscious vampires wrists, dragging her along with them. Murskiel would have smirked at the situation if not his strict upbringing prevented it. Kylan wasn’t one to be all too gentle with slaves, and that was apparent through the entire trip back, from the way she tugged and pulled on the rope. The proteje took his eyes off his soon to be clan mate and focused on walking ahead with the dead weight on his shoulder.
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They passed through the gates, freshly acquired slaves in tow and she was tasked with pulling one behind her while Gerkias did nothing but play guard duty. It was rather tiresome to drag the woman behind her, bloodied and battered. Omarion had really done a number on her for a simple capture. She must have been rather resistant to sustain such injury. This blood drinkers resilience would be an excellent attribute for her to have being the slave to one of Kylan’s many kin. She did not have one herself, often times being too rough for them to last very long. Even an Osth had only lasted a week under her care. Perhaps it was her prerequisite of perfection that prevented her from having one that lasted a considerable amount of time. No matter however, if they could not survive her care, then they were not a proper slave to begin with. Perhaps she may find one among these blood reliant people that would finally live up to her qualifications, but so far she had seen none.
Kylan looked up with violet eyes as they passed the threshold to the inner workings of the castle. The night sky gave way to stone and wall mounted torch. The flickering flames created distorted shadows on the wall, creating rather interesting images as the entourage proceeded deeper into the castle. It wasn’t long before they were descending steps to the lower reaches of the stronghold, every now and then passing a guard standing their post or on patrol. Shortly after beginning their journey down into the lower reaches, they reached the first pens. Finally, she would be rid of this burden and could move onto something more productive.
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Forest colored eyes glanced around the beginning prison cells, seeing that a number of them were empty. Clearly, the main host of the prisoners were being kept in the lower regions, as far away from the sun as possible. A reasonable tactic, but unnecessary, even with some of the cells having small pillars of light cascade through the small windows. The air down In the depths of the prison was stale and unpleasant, but discomfort was part of an angels life from birth. Discomfort in the right situation could be a very wanted sensation. Pain along with several other feelings, let you know you were still alive. Pain was probably something the still conscious vampire was feeling right now, her wounds had healed rather quickly but they still were not complete. However, the two vampires had been brought to the cells and that was all he needed of the three angels around. Omarion turned towards the collected hunting party.
“Place them in their cells and you may go. Murskiel, go to the infirmary and secure a slave healer for the pair.” His proteje nodded as he moved to and empty cell and relieved himself of his quarry. The unconscious woman was settled onto the ground while Kylan jerked the rope forward and roughly shoved the other blood drinker inside with her kin. It was more force than necessary but that woman was not known for her gentle care. Once in fact, he had to reprimand her for bringing in a slave that was practically dead. The healers barely were able to succeed in keeping the blood drinker alive. They wanted slaves not dead corpses. Corpses were useless and he made that clear to her on the day of her mistake.
While the others began to leave, Omarion made no move to do so. He still had a few questions for the conscious one.
Leisurely, the angel lifted the body with one arm as the other moved over as he adjusted his pauldrons. The woman’s weight was making his shoulder protection slide out of place occasionally, but he couldn’t do anything about it permanently until they got to the slave pens. Carefully, he lowered the light weight back onto his shoulder as the group of 4 moved forward, just now getting to the tall gates of the angelic stronghold. Door guards were on duty and already pulling the entrance opened, allowing entrance to their leader and the hunting team of three, along with the extra slave walking near them. Besides the strategist walking ahead of him, Gerkias and Kylan both walked confidently. Kylan quite simply held a held a rope laced around the still conscious vampires wrists, dragging her along with them. Murskiel would have smirked at the situation if not his strict upbringing prevented it. Kylan wasn’t one to be all too gentle with slaves, and that was apparent through the entire trip back, from the way she tugged and pulled on the rope. The proteje took his eyes off his soon to be clan mate and focused on walking ahead with the dead weight on his shoulder.
---------------------------
They passed through the gates, freshly acquired slaves in tow and she was tasked with pulling one behind her while Gerkias did nothing but play guard duty. It was rather tiresome to drag the woman behind her, bloodied and battered. Omarion had really done a number on her for a simple capture. She must have been rather resistant to sustain such injury. This blood drinkers resilience would be an excellent attribute for her to have being the slave to one of Kylan’s many kin. She did not have one herself, often times being too rough for them to last very long. Even an Osth had only lasted a week under her care. Perhaps it was her prerequisite of perfection that prevented her from having one that lasted a considerable amount of time. No matter however, if they could not survive her care, then they were not a proper slave to begin with. Perhaps she may find one among these blood reliant people that would finally live up to her qualifications, but so far she had seen none.
Kylan looked up with violet eyes as they passed the threshold to the inner workings of the castle. The night sky gave way to stone and wall mounted torch. The flickering flames created distorted shadows on the wall, creating rather interesting images as the entourage proceeded deeper into the castle. It wasn’t long before they were descending steps to the lower reaches of the stronghold, every now and then passing a guard standing their post or on patrol. Shortly after beginning their journey down into the lower reaches, they reached the first pens. Finally, she would be rid of this burden and could move onto something more productive.
------------------------------------
Forest colored eyes glanced around the beginning prison cells, seeing that a number of them were empty. Clearly, the main host of the prisoners were being kept in the lower regions, as far away from the sun as possible. A reasonable tactic, but unnecessary, even with some of the cells having small pillars of light cascade through the small windows. The air down In the depths of the prison was stale and unpleasant, but discomfort was part of an angels life from birth. Discomfort in the right situation could be a very wanted sensation. Pain along with several other feelings, let you know you were still alive. Pain was probably something the still conscious vampire was feeling right now, her wounds had healed rather quickly but they still were not complete. However, the two vampires had been brought to the cells and that was all he needed of the three angels around. Omarion turned towards the collected hunting party.
“Place them in their cells and you may go. Murskiel, go to the infirmary and secure a slave healer for the pair.” His proteje nodded as he moved to and empty cell and relieved himself of his quarry. The unconscious woman was settled onto the ground while Kylan jerked the rope forward and roughly shoved the other blood drinker inside with her kin. It was more force than necessary but that woman was not known for her gentle care. Once in fact, he had to reprimand her for bringing in a slave that was practically dead. The healers barely were able to succeed in keeping the blood drinker alive. They wanted slaves not dead corpses. Corpses were useless and he made that clear to her on the day of her mistake.
While the others began to leave, Omarion made no move to do so. He still had a few questions for the conscious one.