Thread: The Great Serpent (M2) Dreamie~Middie

The trek from the merchant city along the coastline to Haven was constantly a journey filled with trials. It was rare that the revolutionaries and rebels successfully completed the venture without any casualties. Though their routes to city often changed with the coming of seasons and appearances of slave drivers and mercenaries, losses were virtually impossible to avoid. The slaves they freed would sometimes succumb to heat exhaustion, water deprivation and heart failure, but never were any of their trips unsuccessful. The relief efforts began three years ago after a man named Deacon Dai C'zeron fled from his captors and murdered several hundred slave drivers with his bare hands. Bearing the hunter's brand that marked him eternally a slave, he attained the simple title Deacon the Bear that described his raw power and his lack of abjuration. He inspired hundreds of slaves that were surfeited to free themselves. This movement was called simply the Paradigm Shift. Since then Deacon attained hundreds upon hundreds of loyal followers that indebted their life to him and his effort to put an end to the slave trade in their isolated, unnamed country. Slavery elsewhere was frowned upon and if ever superiors, kings, tyrants or rulers in neighboring countries learned of such a genocide they would swiftly ensue justice. However, such a plight could easily be mistaken as a lie. If three or four people managed to flee from the country and inform other ruling bodies, what worth did their word mean? But, if thousands upon thousands could vouch then something would have to be done. This was Deacon's plan. He schemed to bring approximately three thousands slaves to the neighboring country across the sea and inform the pharaoh their if the ill-doing elsewhere. This was the last trip to the city of Haven - a city erected years ago when merchants sensed the coming slave era. Deacon himself joined the raid of a slave encampment and promised to personally escort each slave to Haven. Along the way they ran into a formidable foe - slavers who had found their trekking route - and made an attempt to recapture slaves who were too feeble to oppose them and slaughter those who were brazen enough to do so. Deacon fought mercilessly and insured his comrades were protected but not without injury. Several bore physical impairments that would need rest and time to heal before they continued the journey to Haven. It was risky, and despite the plight of his comrades, Deacon demanded they set up camp in the nearest oasis which he had deemed safe and unmapped to lick their wounds, ration their supplies and regroup entirely. The darkness was their comrade and acted as a shadowy veil over their resting spot near a natural spring aside a copse of massive palm trees. Several of the men - revolutionaries and slaves alike - gathered around a foot of one of the enormous coconut trees and accumulated their efforts to farm the fruits whereas others - who were injured - huddled around a dull camp fire to get warm. Deacon knew if they made a fire too large it could attract slave caravans streaming across the desert at night, but he realized with the foliage cover they were receiving it would be difficult to spot them. That, and smoke was virtually unseen during moonless nights. Where's Ammon? The man's inquisitive tone did not irk his superior, Deacon. The massive man shrugged his broad shoulders, heaving a strong breath and continued to strip a freshly harvested water root from the oasis spring. His best friend and loyal follower Irvine was disgusted by his comrade's eating habits. Deacon would preach how important it was to keep one's energy level's as high as possibly even if it meant feasting on unappetizing sources of nutrients. Irvine cringed as Deacon bore into the root, viciously ripping the girth from its lush leaves. I hardly find that appropriate, Irvine jested. Unlike his comrade Deacon, Irvine was nearly a head smaller and much less muscular. His eyes were chocolate brown unlike Deacon's whose were jade, and he also had many less tattoos and brands to call his own. Irvine found his view clouded by the dark mess that was night then shuffled over towards a log they had dragged over to the fire pit earlier. You know, Mister Bear, it's not right to leave your sister pussyfooting about in the darkness. This spring is notorious for naga! She'd be devoured whole by one of those snaky fiends! To get his point across, Irvine curled his fingers into make-shift talons which he found quite menacing! and hissed. Deacon chuckled for the first time in days. His voice was so notoriously deep one would believe it could split fissures in the earth and rip quakes through canyons. Ammon is resourceful and wise for her age. We wouldn't have made it this far if it wasn't for her quick thinking. She would be hurt if she learned you were underestimating her ability this entire trip. Suddenly, Irvine yelped. He peered downward at his feet where a beaten and bloodied boar lay. He directed his horrified gaze upward where he was blessed with an attractive image. That of a woman, a tall, curvaceous one, though her soft visage was covered in clods of dirt and mud. Damn! You killed that? he questioned, prodding at the woman's questionable kill. No, Irvine. She just happened to find it half-digested by a rainbow colored naga. Irvine sneered at his larger companion and rolled his eyes, shuffling closer to further examine their late night meal. Already the woman had knelt down, wielding a particularly sharp dagger, and had ripped open the boar's gut with little to no warning. Its organs sloshed out with an unnerving watery gush, staining the grass and sand with blood and other such bodily fluids. Deacon intervened and plucked his sister's knife from his sister's hands saying, You have been nonstop all day. I think it's time for rest. Ammon had translated to that as, I'm hungry and you're far too precise when it comes to gutting a pig and I can do it faster! in Deacon-speak. She heaved a nod as an approval and removed her shawl, simply laying it to rest on the girth of her shoulders. Around her people were ... happy. Families huddled close together underneath the stars, reminiscing and praising to their gods how lucky they were to be free. This was all Deacon's doing - if he hadn't come around they would still be cooped up in outlandishly small cages ... young girls raped and demeaned, elderly sentenced to arduous labor ... to think how a human could treat another human as such. The following morning, as perusal, Deacon's sister Ammon was the first to awaken. She was not put at ease like her brother. The footprints on the sand dunes they passed on the way to their weystation told her that it was a frequently used path by slave drivers. If her assumptions were correct, this oasis wasn't as uninhabited as Deacon believed. Aside from that she wasn't daft. Deacon's true intentions here weren't just to give the freed slaves rest, but to capture a desert naga. These naga were particularly resilient to the elements and easily just as feisty. As not to hurt her brother's ego, the amazon took it upon herself to quickly survey the immediate area to insure they were in no danger. At first glance things were completely fine ... but then she noted footfalls in the sand near the spring. Her pace quickened as she approached a copse of palm trees. A fire was left dully lit nearby, the cinders still left with an essence of life. Ammon gently padded about and remained ensconced amongst a bush until she heard cries of restraint nearby. Bright red coils caught her tart, ginger-ale eyes for an instant. A naga? So Deacon was right. With no weapon in hand she knew she would have to resort to brute strength - of which she had plenty of. With delicate stealth she parted through the bushes and grasped one of the naga's assailant's necks, violently jerking it upward causing instantaneous death. The other two humans were subdued just as easily. The first she hindered by booting him in his stomach, the other was tripped by the rope he used to tie the naga. While the men were left in a daze, Ammon fled down upon her knees and skillfully untied the knots keeping the naga from freedom. ooc sorry if that was a little choppy and quick ... the next one will flow more, and I'll also describe Ammon more too. xD listulistulistu