03.07.09 - Kill Him
Location: Ruingate - Via Ariadne, Venin House
Characters Involved: Jarven, Darcy, Harper, Tobias
A proper winter storm has rolled down from the north, low black clouds, hiding the sun and enveloping everything in darkness. The gloom broken by the guttering torches along the street and the soft warm glow of lanterns from inside buildings. With the storm threatening to break any moment, cold sheeting rain already pelting the city the gates to House Zerfren have been thrown wide open. A crowd of miserable looking slaves is standing in the rain, chained together by the neck and surrounded by guards. Jarven is sat under a covered awning holding a steaming mug of something hot as he watches the bruised and battered form of a doe slowly being chained between two posts driven into the street, his house hold guards surrounding him whilst his weasel over-seers shackle her into place, the rainfall slowly increasing as the storm threatens to break over the city in full. "THIS! IS what happens to slaves who defy me.. .let this be a true and proper warning to you all!" he bellows as thunder cracks the sky open.
Darcy is the lucky, lucky doe. She doesn't look very much like Darcy anymore, all battered and bruised, hair cut short(er) and all she wears against the oncoming weather is a plain little gray dress-thing. Her cracked ribs are forced to shifts as she's manhandled into place between the posts, gritting her teeth, hissing out through them and keeping her eyes squeezed shut.
Once Darcy is securely in place Jarven strides out from under his shelter, the pelting rain not bothering him as he walks over to grip Darcy's muzzle. "This is what happens to disobedient slaves, I suggest you all learn from this." With a smirk he ducks back to shelter as the rain pours down harder then before, the lightning flashes illuminating the square with more frequency as the cold winter wind howls.
It's not rain it's /sleet/. It's icy and it stings and Darcy's legs quiver as it beats into her at a downward angle, quickly soaking the doe. She shudders and takes shallow breaths, hands curled in fists.
The slaves and guards are made to watch Darcy for about 10 minutes before the marten dismisses them all, having the slaves all hearded back inside whilst he reclines under the awning on his chair. Laughing as he watches the doe, the street has been turned into a quagmire of soupy mud but he doesn't care. He's enjoying the show as slowly that sleet begins to turn into small chips of ice, pelting down from above and slamming into Darcy's prone and vulnerable form, lightning and thunder forming a fitting accompanyment to the martens chuckles.
Harper has spent the day in whispered conversations with the other Venin slaves, such that by the end of the conversation he knew just where to go to find what he was looking for. He approaches the Zerfren house under the cover of the storm, accepting the sleet and hail as collateral damage. If it wasn't so horrid out, he'd have seen the prone form in the middle of the street long before the point at which he does. He stops, freezing mostly out of surprise. His eyes shift this way and that, looking towards the now-closer Zerfren house. After a few seconds, he goes to approach the body. He assumes it is a body. Why else would it be out in this weather...?
Darcy's form shudders and hitches with a sharp cough, mouth open, taking shaky breaths. She lifts her head, eyes narrowed to stare up into the vicious downpour. Her lips move in a little half-hearted song. No one is likely to hear her over the thunder and the clatter of precipitation down onto the street and buildings. ".. a million tomorrows, will all pass away.. ere I forget ..." She stops, head ducked, blinking rainwater from her vision and staring downward, shivering.
Jarven definatly can't hear the song, nore has he seen the approaching form of Harper. The marten throws his head back and laughs wickedly, he seems intent on leaving Darcy there until the rain slackens off. The brazier set up under the awning with him blowing over in the vicious wind and scattering the ashes into the mud where they hiss and go out slowly. At first glance Darcy's form may not be recognizable, not because of the metal bracers or the collar, nor because of the short hair and drab clothing. But because the fur on her muzzle has been shaved away in places, shaved away to form an intricate mask like pattern of a rat's visage over her quite charming hare features. It'll grow out when her fur returns but for now it is quite a ghastly image to see.
It has been a while since Harper's been on an infirmary shift, but if his memory serves him, corpses don't sing. They don't sing with Darcy's voice, either. Harper's feet are slapping and splashing mud and water in a flat second as he closes the remaining short distance between himself and the doe. He slides in the mud onto his knees, paws immediately going to the posts sunk into the ground, yanking on them furiously.
Darcy doesn't even realize this until one of the posts shakes, and it yanks on the arm on that side. She groans out a little noise of displeasure, coughing, spluttering water away from her lips. ".. hey. Hey mister. 's that you?"
Jarven starts up as he sees somebeast yanking at the posts. With a snarl of rage he claws for the dagger at his belt and stalks forwards, raising his hand to back hand the male hare away from the posts. "What do you think you are doing! Who gave you permission to let her down!" He all but screams at Harper in anger.
"... Darcy. Darcy. What the /hell/..." Harper sounds. Agonized. It takes him but a few seconds to realize that he's not going to be able to do anything about those posts, or that she's chained. His eyes /immediately/ turn towards the gate. And the house, narrowed into slits against the falling rain. "... Where is he?" And that's when Jarven starts shouting. And then he just /appears/ out of the sleeting rain, and the paw strikes him across the face. He staggers, falling onto his paws and knees in the mud. When he answers, his head hanging, his tone is murderous and a little crazed. "I came. For you." And he is up, flinging a pawful of mud into Jarven's face.
Darcy feet were on solid ground when this started. Now it's mud, cold water sloshing toward the gutter without the courtesy to go around her. Her feet dig in and she tugs, straining against the chains, but there's not very much available in the way of give. A shaky growl ripples up out of her. "Kill him. Harper! /Kill/ him!"
Jarven growls as he raises his paw to throw the dagger, his aim fouled by the mud that splashes into his eyes, the weapon lost beyond harper's ears into the quagmire of the street. Clothing befouled by the rain and mud the marten screeches in anger, clawing at his eyes to clear them, bracing himself for the inevitable impact of attacking hare he is expecting.
Don't worry, love. That's the plan. Harper doesn't bother taking Jarven down - he just starts swinging - punch after punch at Jarven's head and face. There's a steady growl under Harper's breath, just rolling up out of his chest.
Jarven is unable to do anything about those first few hits, his head snapping back before with a growl of pain the marten bunches his muscles and leaps at Taye, springing forwards without a care if he is hit by the hare, aiming to bare him down under his weight.
Darcy tugs furiously at the chains, making them rattle. "Killhimkillhimkillhim," she growls out like a little chant. Her fingers flex; she can hardly feel them, she's so cold.
They both land back in the mud, Harper on his back. He grabs one paw at Jarven's throat and with the other tries to dig his thumb into Jarven's eye. Killhimkillhimkillhim. It's like a little chant in his head and in his ears.
Jarven squeals as that paw grabs his throat, jerking his head to keep those fingers away from his eyes as one of his paws rams down on Harper's head, trying to shove the recorder's head beneath the mud, other paw slapping over and over, trying to get punch Harper's lights out whilst trying to drown him. The marten's clothing is torn, he's lost his turban and starts trying to bare down on the hare with all his weight.
Darcy's body is fairly thrumming with tension and adrenaline - but all she can do is watch. Grrr.
The weight of Jarven on his battered and broken ribs is nothing short of excruciating. Harper's hips buck, trying to throw Jarven off balance and roll to the side with him as both paws now go to squeeze around Jarven's throat, fingers clawed to dig in and keep a hold. This may become a contest of who can hold their breath the longest - or rather, how long Harper can stay conscious with Jarven battering at him.
Jarven shifts slightly as Harper bucks, his body trembling, he will not loose to a hare! he will not. His grip on harper's head slips, only for the marten to catch the hares head with both paws. No longer trying to batter him, just hold him under and stop himself from rolling, the mud isn't helping however, as he slides to the side and off Harper's body, straining to keep his mind awake and the hare's head under the mud.
Oh! The relief of Jarven's weight off of him is somewhat dampened by the fire in his throat. He has been choked far too often, lately. One paw slips from Jarven's throat, finger inserting itself in, of all places, the marten's mouth. He hooks his fingers in against his gums and /jerks/, because in all honesty someone jerking on your mouth is pretty painful. He tries to jam his knee up into the back of Jarven's thigh, repeatedly. Just. Trying. To get him. Off!
Jarven squeels in agony as he feels his jaw grabbed, his fangs slicing into Harper's paw. The marten slips, his fingers leave Taye's head and he rolls onto his side, Hind legs kicking out viciously and haphazardly at the hare as he tries to force him to let go.
Darcy kicks out with one foot in a show of frustration, splattering mud toward the duo. "Harper! Harper kill him! /Please/! .. please-please-kill-him-please!"
When the paws slip, Harper is up and /spluttering/, gasping for breath. It's enough that he is just trying to breathe, for the moment, that his paw does slip free of Jarven's mouth, though it now bleeds freely from the sharp puncture wounds. The marten's feet sink into his stomach and he kind of stumbles back, rolling away. Up onto his knees. His breath comes out in wheezing gasps of pain. His eyes briefly close and he shakes his whole head, slinging mud and water every which way.
Jarven heaving for breath and working a jaw that has been severely hurt the marten rolls onto all fours and launches himself at Harper with a animal like yowl, claws out and jaws snapping, trying to head butt the hare, he doesn't want to kill him... just knock him unconcious.
The marten's head slams into Harper's muzzle as he is once again driven back, and he is momentarily dazed. His whole head from the neck up is alight with nerve endings. He lands back in the mud, once more on his back. He punches blindly at Jarven's head and draws his knee up at Jarven's groin and midsection. Mud obscures his vision. He's fighting blind.
Harper's feet connect with something and the pine-marten squeels in agony, falling heavily across Harper as he thrases and gasps for breath, pawing at the hare beneath him and trying to shove down with his weight once more.
Darcy quirks her brows up a little. "Nice one."
Something. /Gives/ when Jarven falls on him. Or gives more. Because Harper feels an explosion of pain in his chest. His head throws back, but he can't even get out a scream as his head is shoved back down into the mud. He chokes on it, the mud and water entering his open mouth. His paws press against Jarven's face, pushing - pushing upward.
Darcy's ears press back, her body shaking as she watches. "Harp..." She jerks at the chains again. "Harp what did I tell you about NOT DYING!"
Jarven drags himself away from Harper, limping and hissing as he stares at the hare, thunder booms directly over head, the driving rain slashing over their bodies, fur flattened to their forms as he stares, watching Harper.. ready to react at a moment's notice if he comes at him again.
But... sorry, Darce. Harper doesn't come up again. The only silver lining is that with Javen's weight gone, his muzzle comes to the surface again. He even manages to roll over onto his side, his breath coming in sharp little intakes.
Jarven drags himself to the gate of his compound, bellowing for his vermin, he slumps in the chair, his body slick with mud and rain water, coughing from his bruised throat. "C.. cut er down... put.. put him... in her place!" he orders, then with a final feral growl the marten limps inside.
Darcy jerks against the chains when it becomes clear Harper isn't rising. "Harp. Harp. Harper!"
Harper is not a hard beast to manhandle at this point. The guards come forward and drag his form upright. He just sags in place, body limp. The remaining guards come at Darcy, unchaining her from the posts and dragging her back so that Harper can be put in her place. The pain as the muscles in his arms and torso take all his weight? Yeah. He blacks out.
Darcy pitches a /fit/ against the guards who drag her back. "No! Get OFF! NononNONO Harper!!" She twists, kicking, elbowing one hard in the solar plexus and pulling free. The doe dashes forward, hugging her arms around the unconscious buck's torso, trying to pull him upright. Onto his feet. Something, anything. "Harper!"
One of the guards swings his pike, cracking it against the back of Darcy's head, he was told to take her back inside, so back inside she will be going. The others piling in to drag her away, maybe she can sneak out tomorrow and see Harper.. maybe not. He's not likely to be let down until Tobias comes for him.
Darcy is knocked halfway out by the blow, body jerking forward. She grunts and clutches at the front of Harper's shirt, fingers cinched in the muddy fabric, until she's yanked backward away from him, shaky and crying.
The last sight Darcy has of Harper is as the gates of the Zerfren estate swing shut, limp, unconscious form hanging in the storm wracked street. Then with a soft boom, the gates close, cutting him off from sight, battered, bruised, hopefully still alive.
It's the middle of the /bloody/ night and Tobe is outside, grumbling, looking groggy and annoyed. He hasn't bothered with a shirt, he just pulls on a jacket as he leaves the house and heads down the street, out for another Harper-search sometime in the wee, wee hours of the morning. The rain has eased but is still coming down, and it's cold, with a few spontaneous gusts of wind along the avenue. The tabby is really not in a great mood, thanks.
That's okay, Tobe, Harper's got you beat. He is chained, suspended between two poles, all of his weight now sagged forward. He is covered in mud - and blood, in places - and looks to be, from all angles of the thing, dead.
Tobias gets a glimpse of Harper as he comes this way and his pace quickens. His ears twist back and there's a little growl at the initial appearance of his slave being, you know. Dead. That would not a happy Tobe make. The tabby approaches the buck, boots squelching in the mud, and reaches, feeling against the side of Harper's neck with his fingers. Pulse please?
... Nothing. He's- no, wait. Is that...? No. No. Maybe? There's something... faint. Very, very faint.
Well, he's alive, and that's enough to make this worth it. With no way to unlock the shackles, Tobe brings a knife out of his belt. He leans up, and with the blade starts to cut into one wooded pole at the point where the chain is nailed in, hissing a little, working at it until he can get the nail free. That chain disconnected from the pole, allowing Harper's body to sag.
Which it does. He lands in the mud with a barely conscious moan. Hey, that's promising!
"/Stupid/.. full of himself.." Tobias mutters, shaking his head and starting this on the second pole. He wriggles the tip of the dagger down into the hole, jerking it back and forth to pry the nail out. A glare is shot toward the front of the house. "He's /mine/ not /yours/! Bastard." Grr.
Harper would surely protest that is, in fact, his very own. If he wasn't half-dead.
The half-dead hare is dragged upright by a very alive, but rather grumpy tabby. Tobe slings Harper over his shoulder. He is a caveman, Harper is his bride. He heads back toward his house.
Harper has had enough of being slinged against things. A little choked sound is forced out, but that is all the protest he makes as he is carried along.
Tobias doesn't even go as far as Harper's little closet-room. He reaches with one hand as he enters, taking a cloak that's hung up near the door, and heads toward one of the parlor's sofas. The cloak is spread out across it, and the miserable swamp-monster hare is laid out, rather gently, on his back. Tobe straightens and wipes his hands off on his trousers. "Okay, bud, time to wake up."
It would anger Harper to realize that he is doing something that Tobias has requested of him, but he does start to stir. Unfortunately for him. He. /Gasps/. And his eyes shoot open.
Tobias's brows wing upward. "Oh hey there mate." There's sympathy in his expression, somewhere under the grumpy of having to save Harper's arse in the middle of the night. At least he's not the one who administered the beating, this time. "How you feeling, then?"
Harper's eyes flinch shut and he gets a foot up. He's trying to pedal himself backward. Preferably out of his own skin. He doesn't actually get anywhere, his legs just giving futile little pushes as his back arches. "... Nnh!"
Now those brows furrow. "Hey. It'd probably help to /not/ move." He gives Harper a cursory glance over and turns, stripping off his jacket and heading toward the kitchen.
Not moving doesn't seem to be an option. Getting out of this body seems to be the only course of action that Harper can currently entertain. He paws at his side, choking in his attempts to manage a full breath.
Tobias is not a healer. He returns with the best remedy he knows of - a rather large bottle of very, very strong liquor. This is uncorked, and the tabby lowers himself onto his knees beside the writhing hair. He scoops his hand under Harper's head, lifting it, bringing the mouth of the bottle to his lips. "Drink."
Harper isn't about to object. He smells the alcohol and drinks - gladly. With a sob of relief, even. Liquor dribbles down his muzzle as he drinks in great gulps.
Tobias tugs the bottle away after Harper gets enough to buzz out the pain. He holds the bottle propped on one thigh. "Alright, don't worry, you'll get more. But tell me what happened, hm?"
Harper doesn't say anything for a long while. He's trying to be as still as possible, now. Just let the alcohol do its job. Come oooon, alcohol. "He... /Darcy/." That's his revelation for the moment. And then. "... /Kill/ him," he wheezes.
Tobias assumes 'he' is Jarven, so. "I am /well/ aware he has the girl, okay," the tabby mutters, and takes a small sip of the drink. Oh that is /strong/. Peels off layers of the throat as it goes down. "Did you /actually/ kill him .. or just try?"
"... Couldn't. Couldn't..." A tremor runs through his form. Whether it's from rage or from the pain, who knows. "Just... /took/ her. And I couldn't..."
Tobias frowns, bringing the bottle up for Harper to take another swallow. "Full sentences, mate. Couldn't what?"
Harper's paw seeks out the bottle, helping it tip to his muzzle. After a few swallows he lets it fall away, eyes closing. His breathing doesn't sound so. /Pained/, now. "I couldn't... save her. Couldn't... kill him. I can't... I'm /trapped/. And I can't do /anything/ and I..." Suffice to say, Harper would not be saying these things to Tobias in any normal circumstance.
Tobias's ears flick. "She... where was she, strung up like you were? And you tried to save her." He sounds kind of floored by this, shaking his head. "That was /stupid/, you're in no shape to fight." He knows, it's his fault, heh. "That's just... stupid Harper."
"I can't... save her..." Harper is starting to drift on an alcohol haze.
Tobias sighs out a gruff breath and shakes his head. He eyes the bottle and then lets his gaze drift over to Harper's face. "... I think. I think you're out of your mind. She's just a /doe/. You know you could've /died/, right..?"
"... Worth it," he breathes out with something that could almost be a laugh if it wasn't so pathetic sounding. "Don't expect you t'understand."
Tobias drums his fingers against the side of the bottle he holds. "I just figure.. what good does it do? Dying to try to save her? That just ends up with /you/ dead and her.. no better off. Doesn't make a lick of sense."
"Wasn't /trying/ to die," is the obvious answer. And hey, he /almost/ killed the scumbag.
Tobias shrugs his broad shoulders. "If you're going to die.. might as well actually accomplish what you're after, is all I'm saying."
Harper's ears twitch back. He just. Shakes his head. Turns his face into the sofa. Does his best to breathe shallowly, even though he knows he shouldn't.
Tobias tips the bottle against his mouth for another sip. "Do I need to send for the apothecary, or will you be fine on your own?"
Harper takes the sip, eyes closing. "... Darce. Darce'd know."
That's enough for now. The bottle is corked and set down. "Right. She's a healer." Oh, there are so many reasons he should've taken her too. The tabby growls slightly in the back of her throat. "Good one? Better than the apothecary here, you think?"
Do you really expect him to say no? "Yes."
And another question. "Can you wait til morning?"
Happily? No. "... Yes."
Tobias nods. "Good. Just don't die in the meantime." He lifts the bottle, lifts Harper's hand, and sets one within the other. "This.. is yours. Tomorrow we'll see about getting something better, aye?"
Harper hugs the bottle to his side and just... nods. "... thanks, Tobe." That was rather familiar, wasn't it? His eyes drift shut. He may or may not still be conscious.
"I mean it. Don't die," Tobe repeats, and stands up. He goes to douse the lamp in the parlor, leaving it dark, letting Harper sleep on the couch for the rest of the night as he goes back upstairs.
