Relic Doll

“You‘re not going to cause a scene are you? Because the ship rides made me awful tired.”

Adam struggled, but the more powerful Draycon held his arm tight.

"I'm not a boy. I'm 19."

The others rolled their eyes.

Adam stopped struggling and closed his eyes.

"Melirth, tenicon sorilia nocturnil!"

 

“Define fun,” Rhue said shaking his head. “You must be with the group, I was about to take everyone back to the barracks so no one has to stand about and wait with Raskia.”

Rhue looked towards the boats, he was reluctant to leave for the barracks. He could think of no worse fate then meeting with his brother once more, at least he would have this group with him and no doubt after all these years, Arakane’s hate for him would have calmed. Surely it had for when the humans had asked to calm Rhue the Drakan had accepted and even sent a gracious amount of coin in thanks.

 

Kerrone raised his hand.
"Sorry, but... before we go anywhere, can someone please tell me why I've been summoned here? I mean, I've just come all the way here on a bunch of hear-say. I'd like to know what's going on."
He lifted his faceplate so he could assess the people around him.

 

Alastor dropped the sword he had been holding and took a piece of paper form his pouch. "I got thristy, drinks cost money, someone hired me, told me to come to Lorn." He raised his shoulders. "What I'd like to know is why there's five of us here. This going to cut back in my share of the money that was promised?"

 

Looking down at the other two, Chaos smirked. "If I'm right, this has to do with that box. The one that caused a lot of the relic dolls to go insane and start destroying. So, this city is hiring anyone willing to venture out in search of it." Looking to his fellow relic, he asked "Is that assement correct?"

 

Kerrone groaned.
"So I've come all the way here to look for some bloody box, eh?"
He turned to Rhue.
"Don't you have armies to do that stuff?"

 

Adam finished casting his spell, and began to feel the familiar feeling that something was pulling him. He teleported behind the man and snatched his blade back. He leapt back and swung his sword at the man.

 

Adam stopped in mid-swing. Kerrone was holding out his hand towards him.
"Careful, boy," He said mockingly, "You could put someone's eye out."
Kerrone flicked his wrist, sending Adam off of the harbour and into the freezing waters.

 

How long had it been then? Eleven days? Yes, about eleven days.

The walk had seemed endless, and in a way, Dareon was sorry it had to end. The solitude was something he relished, time for the mind to commune with itself and with the nature around it. Even now, though, heading into a civilized population center, he still felt at peace. Practice in the solitude, he suppossed, could translate to peace in a crowd. Yet another confirmation of a lesson he had learned: thoughts are the parents of actions.

Staff in hand, he strode through the streets, eyeing everything with interest. He found his objective with ease, as it seemed a bit of a scene was being made by a gentleman with a sword.

Dareon stepped aboard and to the side, staying out of sight as he watched the scene unfold with an amused smile.

 

“Stop,” Raskia commanded towards the two fighting men. It was to late the boy had knocked the older man into the water. Trust humans to start a fight at such a time. Raskia commanded her condemn rune to bring forth waves of guilt upon the boy that would confuse him enough. When the boy stood staring in shock she removed the blade from his hands considering for a moment putting the boy to sleep until the could calm the second man down. She cut the condemn rune short so it could do no long term damage the stepped forwards with the blade sliding it beneath the boys chin and letting it rest there so no harm would come to him.

“You will stop now and save your trivial rivalry for when we reach the outer walls of the city. If you choose not to I will make what you felt just now a permanent brand in you mind .”

She turned to Chaos.

“That is correct,” Raskia replied in her monotone voice. “However further questions will be forbidden until we meet with high lord Arakane, his grace will let you know further details.” Her face as always held its paralysed face and she accessed the group mainly for data without forming thought or emotion of them. Such things weren’t distant from her but rarely surfaced to her mind. She hadn’t always been such. Most Pleasure dolls had in built emotions, however hers were damaged. Though she was partially built from a human corpse and most of her more human functions were correct. Certain elements of the human forte were missing. Her fight, flight function had no grounding and she found it difficult to recognise something that may threaten herself though she was more capable of recognising a threat to another.

She understood the box of the world and even what it’s really name had been once upon a time. Though she never bothered to speak of it unless asked by the high lord himself.

“Arakane will hold a feast for the adventures this evening at such time he will address you.”

 

Adam dropped his blade. What powers did this person have? He shuddered and fell silent as she explained.

Adam knew he had no choice other than to assists these warriors in protecting Lorn. But from what? And how? He knew he was a formidable swordsman, but he didn't know how to combat these monsters.

"So...what do we do now?"

 

“We return to the barracks and wait for the others, there are more coming. However they may taking longer to get here. I suggest you get comfortable. I doubt you‘ll find the barracks all that pleasant with our wounded soldiers also residing there but for now it is the best that can be done. If you will all follow Lord Rhue he will guide you there whilst I wait for the others,” Raskia replied.

 

The woman nodded to Rhue, the Draycor, who turned and began to walk. Adam followed behind, keeping a close watch on the others and gripping his sword tight. One thing that being a slave taught a person: keep an eye on everyone.

 

It took a little time after docking for Dlieza to be allowed to take the horses off of the ship. Their hooves made a hollow thudding sound on the ramp as she led them to shore, a tiny figure between their large elegant ones.

She spoke to them constantly, heedless of words, just for the sound. They responded as horses usually did, by nudging her with their muzzles and following her meekly on a slack lead-rope.

The Barracks. She'd taken this trip before, bringing celebrated horseflesh across to their new masters here. She led them up the dusty avenue, aware that there was more than one admiring glance on the horses.

Both were strong and tall, battle-trained. Their manes waved gently over strong necks, conditioned muscle rippling under their shining coats. One was a silver dapple grey the other the same color as a new copper coin with a white blaze and four white socks. The value of both together dwarfed that of the boat they'd sailed on.

Dlieza almost paused when she saw the odd group knotted by the road. A large white gelding was watching placidly as one wet and angry looking man dragged himself from the harbor and a tall impassive white woman seemed to have another man in thrall.

Dlieza shrugged. It had nothing to do with her.

She passed by, coming shortly to the barracks and asking for Masterhorseman Keenan.

 

Mordred stopped and looked around. Oh yeah, he was lost. Wonderful.

He was near some kind of stable - the air around him reeked of horse. Mordred wrinkled his cute little nose and wandered around awkwardly, not sure where to go. He figured it'd be best to stay in one place and wait for someone to come by and give him directions. He didn't wanna get even more lost.

And so he waited. He nudged the ground with his light grey hooves and fiddled with the hem of his dress until someone came into view.

Multiple someones, actually. Kinda. It was a woman with two huge, beautiful horses. Mordred resisted the urge to reach out and touch one.

Tucking a lock of long, silky red-brown hair behind his ear, Mordred smiled sweetly at the woman. He waved, the pink beads around his wrist rattling softly, and he hoped she'd notice him.

((Sorry for all the unnecessary descriptions - whenever I introduce a trap character, all the other characters automatically know he's a he and it annoys me to no end.))

 

Raskia nodded to the man and mounted her own white horse. Her eyes maintained there coolness and she approached him gently swinging the horse around to face him.

“Hello,” she greeted him briskly. “You are with the kings party?” she asked watching the man intently. No doubt he realised the fact of his looks for he was one of the best dressed men she had ever seen.

 

Kerrone silently acknowledged the newcomer as he brushed past the rest of the party.
Pretty boy. He thought to himself as he looked at his armour. A trail of water was following him, due to that stupid boy with the sword.
Great, it's in all the cracks.
Kerrone glanced back at the group briefly.
Something bad will come of him, I can smell it.

 

Adam groaned inwardly as a strange...man walked up to them.

I'm getting pulled into this with a bunch of weirdos...

Adam looked around. No one seemed to notice him as anything other than a young man with a sword. Hopefully he had grown out his hair long enough to cover the number 47 blazed on his forehead. He would not go back into slavery ever again.

 

The castle over shadowed the barracks like some god begotten omen of pain and desperation. The Barracks had been fenced off crudely with a wicker fence. Though the day was bright inside fires burnt and the scent of crisped flesh lingered on the wind. Rhue could not help but gag for he knew the smell well. The flesh that had been burnt was human and within the flames Rhue could see a hand stretched outwards with fingers curled. The grounds of the Barracks was like a wallow. Rhue new without a doubt the soldiers higher up the ranks would be living behind this horrendous scene and with out a doubt there grounds would be cleaner and there would not be a skerrick of death to be seen.

The group behind him looked unnerved and Rhue felt sorry they had to see the mess. Stomping through the mud that sucked at his boots he looked over to see Heckling serfs suffering from river blindness the death had invited the flies and in turn the serfs eye sockets had become fly blown as there was no herb men available to see to them. Rhue continued through the path, men were moaning and howling with pain and neurosis from watching their comrades fall.

Just how bad was the relics infestation? In his own city on human lands. Relics that were once considered citizens had rocks hurled at then out of hatred and were burnt to death. Though Rhue knew in his heart it was cruel those were his moments when the fires had gone out and he could see what the scraps of a doll were made of. They were metal and some were forged with rune. A doll could die in a fire yet its eyes would remain in tact or melt like hot glass. The relic killers in the human lands were fewer then there were here.

 

Dlieza stood with the horses at the closed gate, wondering at the delay. Usually Masterhorseman Keenan was waiting there for her, hotfoot to take his new charges into his care. The impassive soldiers guarding the gate stolidly ignored her. She wrinkled her nose at the sour scent of burning in the air.

Shrugging, she took an apple from the bag slung bolero-style around her, polished it on her shirt, and took a bite. Spitting it out she offered it to one horse and then she repeated the process for the other before enjoying some for herself.

The soldiers’ attention sharpened on something over Dlieza’s left shoulder. She peered around Spook to see what it could be, still chewing a bite of apple.

The first thing Dlieza noticed was a blinding array of pink and the soft rattle of beads. Then, as was her habit with Drakans, she looked down suspiciously to see if the being’s hooves were well-kept. Often the state of a Drakan’s hooves told her more about what they were like in under ten seconds than talking to them for ten minutes might reveal.

High-maintenance, was her first thought. The whole package was beautifully turned out. She would have said high-class as well except this girl seemed to be interested in getting into the barracks, most likely to find soldiers to sport with.

Dlieza knew that human/Drakan pairings existed, of course, although she had never heard of them producing offspring. Most likely there was a species divide too wide for genetics to navigate. But what did Dlieza know from animal husbandry?

She swallowed the bite of apple and glanced at the soldiers. They had gone back to being impassive but were stealing looks at the pink-swathed Drakan. Dlieza sighed, apparently it was up to her.

“Help you with something, sister?” she asked.

 

“Well met lord Rhue,” Della greeted him with a pleasant smile. Her face had greyed with her age, yet she still had the most beautiful eyes for a Drakan woman. Rhue took her hand as it was offered and shook it firmly before stepping back.

Della signalled the group up the hill towards the high ranks section of the barracks and Rhue breathed a sigh of relief. The group left to claim there beds. Della scanned the group before turning back to Rhue.

“His grace will not be pleased your kind sent you,” she said her expression thoughtful.

“To fight a war my lord will only send his best, no matter the friction it may cause. Issues as they are, what is better. To have a loathsome brother at your table or no man at all?”

Della chuckled at his statement. “What do you think of the group that has come?”

“You truly need not know,” Rhue said biting his lip. “They are rough and several members seem to have problems, deciding rather to be the top male the to worry about the journey ahead.”

“A little testosterone is good for the fighting,” Della joked.

“Depends on whether you want the men to kill each other before we even get started.”

Della looked up the hill and frowned Rhue new she was disappointed with the numbers. “Rest for now I will have a serving lad call for you when the hour for our feast draws near.”

Rhue nodded and with a brisk hug walked away from Della.

 

Dareon walked slightly behind the group moving towards the Barracks, as yet apparently unnoticed. His time would come, it it had to. His human brethren certainly had not yet proven their own maturity, nor mental prowess. But, of course, every quest needed brawn, even if the brawn lacked brain.

There was one human there, though, who caught his eye. A woman. He caught only a brief glimpse of her as she tended the horses that went with them. He smiled slightly, and then looked away. Interesting, that he should think of such things now, when the wound was still fresh on his heart. It was, in fact, half the reason he left, wasn't it?

The smell of burning flesh interrupted his thoughts, and immediately he covered his face with a corner of his cloak. The remains of an attack, no doubt. Around him figures of humans were twisted weirdly into scorched, unrecognizable shapes. But more than disgust and repulsion, sadness coursed through him at the site of so many wasted lives.

 

Hoisting herself on the side of the rail, she began to jump when two arms wrapped around her waist.

“Miss. Fae, you have a walkway, you know?” the man spoke in her ear.

Drawing her sword, she turned, holding it to his pale neck,” Let go of me servant, or I will cut your head off,” she replied in her face, turning beat red.
Elbowing him in the rib, she leapt off, meeting the ground with a thud. A black stallion, stood off to the right waiting for her. A Relic doll stood to the side, seemly waiting for her.

"Hi," she grunted, mounting the horse.

"Will we be on our way soon?" she called, looking away unintrested.

 

Raskia did not answer the woman’s comment. There was barely need since the woman had shown no true sign of interest. Instead she sat stroking the horses neck gently. As a doll designed directly for pleasing others she had the functions and ability to implant thoughts in mind that could sooth almost anything with a heart that beat, the horse liked her though others were terrified of her lifeless look and would often become spooked by her.

She wondered for a moment and it stunned her that she actually did, if she had human parts, though preserved by the relic parts, how come she could sooth near anything or send it mad, yet not herself? Her mind was human, was it wrong that she contained no true emotion?

She looked back towards the red head, this group would be quite the task to control.

 

Kerrone walked through the aisles of wounded and moaning soldiers, giving each one a brief glance as he brushed past them.

A Drakan, who was obviously some sort of field medic, approached him.

"Can I help you," The doctor briefly looked Kerrone up and down, "Sir?"

Kerrone smiled behind his mask.
"I have a wound on my hip," He groaned half-heartedly, "Do you have any medicinal alcohol?"

The doctor cocked his head.
"Would you like me to have a look?"
Kerrone shook his head.
"No, thank you. I can deal with it. I'd just like something for the pain."

The Drakan turned, picking up a bottle of clear liquid and passing it to Kerrone.
"You're not very convincing, you know."

"I don't try to be." Kerrone murmured.

"Bring it back when you're finished." Said the doctor.

"Will do."