Welcome to Gaia! ::

Vania struggled against her binds a bit more before she looked over to Fable with a sorrow-filled expression. Vania wanted to comfort her friend, but she couldn't even get up. "Fabel? Are you okay?"

Vania did not want to go to the capital. In fact, she did not want to go anywhere. Her mission was crashing down around her ears, her only friend in this sexist world was trapped and possibly traumatized. Her possible nephew was captured by the people who enslaved him.

Goodness, she needed a vacation or something.

'Vania?' Smargadus cautiously prodded his counterpart.

'Yes?'

'I - I think I can give the other people in the wagon some of your, err, tolerance. It is harder, but I can try.'

Vania grinned to herself and mentally nodded. She could help Fabel, and possibly the rest of the wagon.

'All right, use me as your conduit. Whenever you are ready, Smargadus.'

The dragon focused his energy and sent it through Vania. Gradually, a net of mysticism covered the members of the cart. A small tinkle of energy leaked into each person's mind, imbuing a sense of tolerance against pain, nausea, and drugs that were gained through harsh training. Vania was concentrating and focusing the energy's flow, but she could not keep it up for long. Hopefully the captives would pull up their own defenses before her's would succumb to the environment.

Vania was lead out near the front with one of the other women. She walked off the ramp with little resistance as she tried to maintain the mystical mental protection. As soon as that scent reached her nose, however, her concentration (and calm) broke.

Vania gazed dumbfounded at the dragon's body. A dead dragon? Here? No way . . .

'Vania? What happened? Why did you stop the magic?'

Vania ignored her draconian counterpart as she tried to get over the shock of seeing one of her mystical kin's carcass. Slowly, the surprise left her, leaving a righteous wrath in its place. Gritting her teeth and glaring at the nearest woman captor. Tensing up, she lept at the person as she emitted a battle cry.

This was an odd sight, considering that Vania was trying to ensure calm less than five minutes ago. Even though she was bound, Vania tried her best to kick, head-butt, and ram the woman.

Smargadus sensed the stress and turmoil, as well as the potent emotions. 'Vania, what is going on over there?' He was genuinely worried for his mortal.

'Dead dragon, Smargadus. They have a dead dragon.'

(wow, longest post that I have made in a while!)

There was a woman standing on a makeshift stage with two male bodyguards at her side. She wore a uniform with an embroidered lapel that communicated a high rank in Feretris' military, which serves both internal duties as a national guard, and external duties such as border patrol and tactical offense. The prisoners were being made to line up facing her, a forced audience. She began right away without introduction, and did not pause when Vania began her struggle, expecting that the guards who had brought the prisoners would be able to handle it.

"Your gods," she began, "are weaker than our gods. Your gods are flesh and blood, easily slaughtered by mortal weapons!" She gestured towards the dragon as she spoke, not realizing how few of her captive audience were actually aware of the old religions surrounding dragons. However, her point about the resistance was made clear. The weakness of the resistance had hit home for many at the point of capture.

Yet, not all had given up.

At first the guards could handle Vania, but Vania's example spread like wildfire to the other prisoners. Many of them had never seen a dragon before, whether or not they were bonded, and even those few that were bonded were not in efficient communication with their other half due to a lack of awareness. That would change very soon for bonded all over Feretris.

Smargadus would be spreading the news as fast as Vania's resistance spread through the crowd. Others who were aware of their bond were also reporting and confirming this fact, so that soon the whole dragon world and the dragons in Cedric's little valley would be filled to the brim with the news. In the valley they had known that a young dragon had died, for his human counterpart had died in their care of strange wounds, but now they had more than suspicions to go on. This was not a hunting party or frightened farmers protecting their herds. This was their enemy, an enemy who had already caused them so much misery because of their inability to complete the bond properly at such a young age, and because of their parent's inability to permanently cross over.

Now many of the young dragons whose counterparts lived in Feretris, for Cedric had not randomly chosen his test subjects, had indeed crossed over. Between the fact that many of them were indeed coming of age, and the fact that young dragons are so volatile, which is what makes them dangerous to their human halves, they would now be pushed over the ledge of caution. They would be attempting to break through even the most stubborn of bonds to reach any and all bonded in Feretris. Many of the young dragons did not know exactly where their counterparts were because of weak bonds, but they now intended to find out. Each dragon, whether in the dragon world or in the valley, had the burning question: Is MY half with these prisoners, helplessly witnessing this atrocity?

As for the non-bonded slaves, they too had a reason to be riled up. Many of them had never heard of dragons or thought them fairy tales. That such creatures existed upset their world view, and reactions ranged from fear of the beasts themselves to hot-coal suspicions that their countrymen had killed a being of another sentient race. And the way the speaker was talking, this thing had somehow been on their side? That was a type of power that many of them had never heard of and never hoped to have. Who knew what else lay out there in the wide world that they had yet to get their hands and minds upon?

Either way, many of them were still convinced that they were to be executed, and for good reason. A row of guards behind the speaker wore ceremonial garbs used for executions even in the smallest of compounds, for in some strange way they held life to be sacred even as they took it.

Yet the guards were only as many as had captured them, and that had been done by magic and by surprise. Because of where they were, the captives could see open fields to the south, where somehow freedom might lie simply because Feretris did not reach her greedy fingers that far. It only took the example of Vania and a few others to occupy the guards and give the crowd something worthy to follow; men and women alike turned on the guards or fled for their lives. It was like a school of fish swimming past a shark, knowing that some might die but each hoping that, somehow, they would not be one of the ones counted among the dead.

Sverrir began searching, the crowd had given him the opportunity to flee but first he wanted whatever revenge he could get. After only a short time he found what he was looking for, an unconscious guard. Sverrir knelt next to the body, the mob had taken him down and trampled him nearly to death and quickly moved to the guards that had moved back.

It was difficult to do but Sverrir finally found a knife in the guards jacket and managed to get it in his hands.

Sverrir pointed at a slave that was looking around in a panic and quickly started barking orders at him.

"You! Get over here! Cut your bonds on this knife! Now cut mine! Now go cut the bonds of people who are fighting the guards!"

After the slave ran off Sverrir located a large rock on the ground and moved closer to the stage. He found strength from the roar of the crowd and Vania's requiem only served to fuel his rage but he had not slept for some time. He hauled his arm back and snapped it forward, throwing out his shoulder, but he felt a thrill through the pain as he watched the stone soar towards the woman and strike her in the arm. It did not cause the damage that he had hoped; but it was still the first time he had brought pain to a mistress.

Just as Sverrir began running forward to throw himself at the enemy women and any guards in the way he was knocked from his feet by a panicked slave and was trampled upon by several others before he managed to get himself off of the ground. He felt pain in his arm and realized that it had been broken and despite his desire to charge the guards he decided that it would be best to try to escape and so he ran.

Sverrir ran towards the dead dragon because that was where the crowds were the thinest. He passed Vania and as he looked over his shoulder at the carcass he tripped and landed on his wounded arm causing him to cry out in pain, he lifted himself off of the ground once more and began running once again.

(thank you so much! I was about to PM you because I did not want to leave your character behind. Now to figure out my next post, since it can drastically affect where your characters go next sweatdrop )

[[ Um... I thought it was Sverrir chucking rocks? Poor Cain was trying to get away from all that. mrgreen ]]

Sverrir had made it some distance into the fields and saw a shadow move in front of him. He had never been outside of the compound and this was more open space then he had ever seen before and he was simply scared. He saw the shapes of others running and his imagination took over, he thought they were the shadows of the beasts that were coming to kill him.

Maybe there are things like that carcass that was back there out here, or maybe even worse.

After Sverrir stood frozen for a few moments he decided to return to chaos, at least he could see things there.