Things are happening on the deck of the Cloud Treader. Eeee and Vartans are flying out and up to take positions guarding the airship's envelope, while non-flyers hurry about with buckets of sand and water, as if preparing for a fire (although there aren't any sections that look like they were previously burnt). Janik has a cutlass at his side, and Lilitu arguing with him.
Logfile from Envoy. (OOC) Log start: d:\logs\lon\2018-01-09_unicornapped.htmlThings are happening on the deck of the Cloud Treader. Eeee and Vartans are flying out and up to take positions guarding the airship's envelope, while non-flyers hurry about with buckets of sand and water, as if preparing for a fire (although there aren't any sections that look like they were previously burnt). Janik has a cutlass at his side, and Lilitu arguing with him.
"You go down inside!" the Vartan snaps at the girl. "You too noticeable now. They get you and that it for us, we gotta do whatever they say then!"
Lili seems like she's about to shout back when Willow arrives. After seeing the Aeonian the girl closes her mouth and just nods to the captain.
"What is going on?" Willow calls out to Lilitu and Janik while she's finishing up adjusting her attire so that she looks prim and proper. "Has something been spotted? Are we on fire?" she inquires, spotting the water-bucket brigade.
"Precautions," Janik says. "Raiders not in range yet, but Yodhrephath escort is doing orbits 'round us," he explains. "So we get ready too."
"Does she usually do that when she detects something?" Willow asks as she looks about for the Yodh-On-Wing. She also tries to extend her senses beyond the ship to see if she feels anything ... but given the range she is not particularly optimistic.
Things are closer, with some groups closer than others - namely those in the path of the ship. Janik hasn't furled the sails, after all, so they're closing in faster. "They all different, but when they get like this it a good indicater," Janik explains. "I not know what they use to know when attack is coming. Pirate detector or.. divine stuff."
"Mmm, likely a divine gift," Willow concedes after a bit of thought. "What can I do to help? what should I do?"
"Um.. be.. officious?" Janik suggests. "I mean, indignant. Like a very-important-person or a noble I suppose. Like it is all very inconvenient. You know... like a crazy person who doesn't live in same reality as normal folks."
"But ... those are the types I want to slap," Willow has to admit as she rubs a little around her horn. She takes a deep breath and steadies herself. "What is with all this noise? Can't you make your crew work quieter? Can't we go any faster?" she complains. "If any of those buckets splash on me, heads will roll!"
"Yes, that it, you a natural," Janik says with a grin. "But save it for raiders." He then turns to Lili, and points to the hatch. The girl grumbles, and heads below. "The will go to my cabin, since that where the chest locked down," he explains to Willow. "Up to you if you want meet them there, or out here."
"Hmmm, probably down there, don't you think? A lady would not be on deck in a row," Willow admits after some thought and a tailswish. "Though, you know I'm not always a lady in a bedroom." She grins.
"Well, if you want to meet them in you lingerie, it would probably pique interest," Janik notes. "Not have women aboard before. Lili look like boy, easy to hide before she get magic boobs."
"I suppose she didn't think about that, though they can still be strapped down a lot," Willow comments as she looks towards the hatch. "Now, I am not going to wear lingerie, that is just inviting trouble. I do not look male in any situation."
Janik glances at Willow's horn, but doesn't comment. "May want get comfortable in cabin then for now," he says. "Or run back in before they gets close. Yodh always fry the first wave, it's a big show. But they lure her out to take ship. Most raiders to deal with Yodh."
"I hope she doesn't get killed," Willow says worriedly. She does consider them relatives, when it comes down to it. She watches the horizon now and fidgets. "I'll go down soon..."
"First strike is big and showy, would scare off any sane pirate," Janik notes, leaning over the rail. "Meant for taking out airship I bet. But against lots of flyers? Maybe not so good."
The Yodhrephath does a close pass, and Willow can see the big crossbow she carries with a glowing, ghostly something appearing to crouch on it, ready to pounce.
"Magic isn't easy to work on lots of small targets," Willow remarks as she looks over the rail now too, her mane bowing wildly in the wind. "And none of it that is useful is quick to 'reload'."
"I never see them use more than one shot," Janik says, nodding. "After that it bolts and spears and nets."
"That sounds right. Most Yodh can hold a couple spells at most," Willow notes as she brushes back some of her mane. "Please, don't let any crew get killed this time. I'm the only sacrifice today, and I have a special guardian."
A shrill whistle pierces the air, followed by three shorter ones. "Lookout spotted 'em," the Vartan notes, heading for the bow. "Three Rakhtors."
Willow's brow furrows. She could mess with the Rakhtors using her aura sense, maybe. Might help the Yodh a little. So, she tries to focus and find the approaching raiders.
There are still raiders coming from all directions, with the ones in front the closest. It's still difficult to isolate individuals though. The Yodh hasn't reacted to the lookout's warning though, maintaining her orbit around the airship.
At the bow, Janik looks through his spyglass. "Got setting sun behind 'em, stand out,"he comments when Willow catches up. "They just to get Yodh to blow her shot."
Willow concentrates. She's never done this before, so has no idea if it would work, but ... she tries to focus and imagine that unpleasant dragon-feeling as away from her; sort of centered in the approaching wave of Dagh-holes.
There's some change in the auras, but not much reaction. They seem slightly more afraid than they already were. But whether or not it's the birds or the riders reacting isn't clear, since things are all mushed together still. She can't see them, but Aeonians (and whatever Willow is) aren't renown for exceptional eyesight. Even the Vartan captain is using a spyglass, after all.
Willow frowns. She can't really help much, and she doesn't want anyone hurt. This makes the situation even more frustrating. So, she ends up pacing the deck worriedly.
The Yodh still hasn't changed her course - so she's not racing to meet the foe this time. Soon enough the forward group is visible at least against the setting sun. Dusk is indeed starting to mess with eyesight, especially for the Eeee that do better in darkness. The crew is very quiet now, aside from the whistle-reports of the lookout. Willow has the best overview though, noting another ten Rhaktors approaching from the other directions, with the trailing group being the furthest out. The flanking groups are coming from head and behind, at angles to make it uncertain where they started from.
"Large group. Are they always this large?" Willow asks Janik. She then pauses to focus again, this time on the ten ... and tries the aura trick again.
It's still subtle at this range, but the auras do shift. Some of them seem to slow, at least for a few moments. These groups aren't pre-terrified like the leading one. The trailing one seems to speed up, but that's just because the others slowed down.
"Must stop trying to help," Willow thinks as she swings her tail around and grabs it, fidgiting. "I should probably go down now, right?" she asks.
Janik seems lost in thought.. and a bit confused. "This Yodh actin' different," he notes. "Oh.. yeah, but watch through windows. Not sure what happenin' this time."
Willow looks more concerned at that. "Acting different how?" she asks as she heads to the deck-hatch, but pauses before going down to see if Janik replies.
The Yodh is still circling, but a bit further out now.
"Waiting for 'em to come closer instead of meetin' them head on," Janik says. "If got big boom, best used far from ship."
"Be careful," Willow thinks, then quickly heads belowdeck to hide in the captain's room and watch out from a window.
She still gets a better picture of what's happen via her aura sense. The flanking and trailing groups are slowing down, so maybe they are confused by the change from standard Yodhrephath tactics. The leading group is still coming at them full speed, and now Willow can make out individuals.. because the Rakhtors were carrying more than one rider. From the three birds, nine more figures fan out. To fit that many, they must be lightweight Eeee.
"And probably Saskanar Eeee, they're lighter," Willow thinks. She peers out the window this way and that, while also trying to extend her aura, trying to keep track of, well, everything. She also wonders if this was a bad idea; she really has no idea what is going to happen to her once they grab her. Or if they will grab her!
The Yodh's aura is pulsing. And with each pulse, something happens to one of the incoming flyers. The ones in front don't slow.. it almost looks like the Rakhtors hanging back behind them are driving them forward. The others groups are close enough to launch their riders, and these do react, almost in a panic. The Yodh is doing something. It isn't an attack, but it's freaking out the raiders.
"Wait, are they copying my aura attacks I used on Koldesh?" Willow suddenly wonders. "How?!?"
Things become a little clearer through the window. The raiders are invisible in the dying sunlight, but when the Yodh passes by Willow can spot little red glows appearing in the near distance, in time with the sense of panic from the raiders. It isn't an aura attack, precisely: the Yodh is marking them somehow, with little patches of red spirit-light.
"That's ... new," Willow comments out loud. "Which Yodh is this? Have I met her? Surely that isn't Koldesh herself?"
Perhaps even the Yodhrephath can learn new tactics when the traditional ones have failed. The panic in the raiders doesn't last, however, when nothing actually happens to them from the glows. Soon they're regrouping into their original formations, getting in closer. On the next pass around the stern, Willow sees the Yodh launch her actual attack. It starts as a streak of light, but then it curves and takes on a shape: a glowing, spectral hunting Grok. It homes in on the nearest of the glow-marked flyers.
"Tagging targets. Appropriate approach," Willow remarks, impressed and pleased. She's glad she's on good terms with them! "Come on, take them down ... avenge those lost." She starts playing with her tail again, even more nervous now.
When the spirit-Grok chases down the first target, the raider's aura flares and then flickers, but doesn't go out. It's a stun attack.. which can still be fatal for a falling flyer, but more importantly it uses less energy per hit than a killing one would. The Grok moves on to the next, while the Yodh swings around to head off the leading group - the supposed 'Yodh fodder' meant to distract her.
"Don't get killed," Willow pleads at the glass as she grips her tail even tighter. She hates this, truth be told; people in danger and being unable to help.
Things are in apparent disarray now, as the flying raiders are trying to dodge the spirit attack (it's not like they know it's only stunning them). But the Rakhtors are still coming in - they weren't marked, hanging back behind the launched flyers. These would be carrying the big guys, likely Vartans. And the spirit-Grok loses power with each hit it makes, so isn't going to be able to take out everyone.
Willow frowns deeply. Maybe now. She focuses on just one Rakhtor, eyes narrow. Another attempt to project that aura, to perhaps get it to throw its rider or go wild. Make it easier for the Yodh to actually hurt them.
It worked on the ones in the Yodhrephath aerie - and now they're close enough to be affected. It helps to focus on just one too. The Rakhtor seems to balk, and its rider abandons it to fly on alone. There's a focus to this one's aura, something more predatory than an Eeee. A Vartan for sure.
Willow narrows her eyes even more ... tries to make it feel like death was about to swoop from above to get the flyer. If he turns, and the Yodh sees it ...
The Yodh is still at the opposite end of the ship, engaging the remaining Eeee. Things are chaotic enough to make it hard to tell if any have been struck down - but the 'fodder' may be throwing themselves at her. The Vartan pauses in midair at least. But the other Rhaktors have launched their Vartans now. There's no way to stop the bulk of them from landing on the ship.
"So much for that," Willow remarks and lets the aura fall. She cannot risk exhausting herself too much. Part of her wants to just shift back to normal and tear the invaders apart with the shadow. It makes her twitch and pace in frustration now. She is not good at being helpess.
The ones harrying the Yodh are starting to wink out. But they're clearly trying to keep her occupied. The Vartans reach the ship, and Willow can hear the yelling from the deck. One actually comes up to the window outside to check out the cabin.
Willow tries to yank closed anything that might work as window covering; curtains, blinds, a board. She isn't picky!
There are curtains, but the Vartan isn't trying to get in at least (he'd never fit through the windows anyway). By the time all the curtains are closed, there is thumping from outside the door. More than one Vartan's hooves could make.
Willow grabs a chair and tries to bar the door with it! "Crap, they're moving fast!" she thinks in a panic. She also reminds herself, act like a lady, so she grabs a candlestick to brandish as a weapon, then tries to stand and look unconcerned ... as she ponders how hoity to sound in a threat.
The door latch clicks, and then there's a heavy thump that rocks the door and rattles the chair. "Open door!" a raspy voice bellows. "No games. I count to ten. Door no open, we burn ship. Gots it?"
"How dare you try to enter a ladies room unannounced," Willow calls back as she brandishes the candlestick and points it at the door. "Have you no decorum? No manners?!"
"Hell no!" the voice bellows, and then there's a very different kind of thunk against the door. Part of it near the latch begins to splinter. "One," the voice calls out after the hit.
"Why, I never!" Willow calls back! "I'm sure your mothers must be mortified with such behavior! She should give your backside a right striping!"
"Hah, my mother do way worse!" Another thunk, and the wood not only splinters but splits - and the tip of something sharp and metallic pokes through. "Two!" the Vartan calls as the metal is yanked back out.
"Good, she should! I mean, really. Breaking the door to a ladies room. what are you, some kind of grunting beast?" Willow says as she continues to wave the candlestick at the door. She has her nose up a bit too, not that they can probably see it. "If you beg for forgiveness now, I am sure we can come to a gentlemanly arrangement."
Thunk! The axe-head comes through almost completely that time, and Willow can feel that it's probably iron. The hole is wide enough for a big yellow avian eye to spy through it once the axe is yanked back. "Three," the Vartan says, somehow managing to leer with one eye. "We coming in anyway, lady. So open door. That our agreement."
"You, you brute," Willow calls as she waves that candlestick at that peering eyeball. Great, iron. That's ... not good, she can feel the 'heat' from here. This just gets worse.
Another whack, and something else comes through.. an ironwood prybar. This is used to push at the chair. "Foooour," the voice sings badly.
"Ow, don't sing, that's just .... ewgh," Willow complains as she backs away from the door a bit more. "What is it you want in here, anyway?" she asks nervously. "Will you promise to not hurt me?"
"You not see big money chest chained to floor?" the Vartan says, just before the chair is dislodged. With the damage near the latch, that part of the door breaks off after two more heavy thumps. The door swings open to reveal two hulking Vartans, both brown with white, black-speckled chests. The first one comes in and heads straight for Willow.
"Stay back!" the unicorn squeaks and waves the candlestick a bit wildly as she backs up to the wall. "If you want money, just take it and go!"
"We gonna do that anyway," the raspy-voiced Vartan says. The one behind him swings the axe again, hacking at the locks holding the chest to the floor. "Now who are you, lady? Too many surprises today for my liking." He doesn't seem very concerned about the candlestick as he looms at Willow, even spreading his wings a bit to make himself look even bigger.
Willow puffs herself up as well. "I am Lady Willow Ebonmane, ambassador from Sylvania," she huffs at the rough-looking creature. "Who are you, other than an ill-mannered brute?"
"You call me Mr. Stitch," the Vartan says, and then his taloned hand darts out to grab Willow's.. horn. He tugs on it, before saying, "Huh, it real.."
"Ack, hey!" Willow complains as her arms flail a bit wildly! "Of course it's real, and attached to my head!"
"That very suspicious," the Vartan says, letting go. WHACK! One of the chains comes loose on the chest. "You come with us."
"What, a horn makes me suspicious!? That's ludicrous!" Willow huffs as she rubs her now sore head. "I'm not going anywhere with you brutes! Take your baubles and go." She even makes little shooing motions with her hands.
"Nah, we take you too," the Vartan says. "For reasons. Turn around."
The unicorn huffs, loudly. "I think not! You might do something untowards to me," she insists.
"I don't know that word, so.. can't do it," the Vartan claims. "Now do it or I do it for you. I need to check your hair."
"Check my hair! I bathe regularly, thank you," Willow retorts, nose high! She glares at him until he moves a little, then qith a squeak, she turns around.
Talons comb through the mare's mane, as if searching for something. Then there's a ripping sound as part of her skirt is torn off and used to bind her hands behind her back.
"Hey! That dress was expensive! You're going to pay for that!" Willow calls back and tries to glare over her shoulder ... and squirm, while her hands are being tied.
"Yeah, sure," Mr. Stitch says, and turns Willow back around. "You not like this then," he notes, and grabs the front of Willow's bodice with both hands before pulling in opposite directions.. ripping the garment in two.
That makes Willow whinny loudly and actually try to kick the vartan when her chest is suddenly presented with very cool air! That bodice helped keep things contained, after all, and without it makes her look even more chesty.
"Hmmm, you gonna be a squirmy one, I can tell," the Vartan grumbles when he has to dodge the kick. So he pushes the mare down onto her butt, since she can't catch herself with her hands tied behind her back.
Willow makes a very undignified grunt when she lands hard on her butt! "Ow, that hurt!" she complains.
It gets worse when she's forced onto her back (and her hands) as her legs are pulled upwards. Holding her ankles in one talon, Mr. Stitch (clearly not a tailor) rips another strip of skirt away to use in binding Willow's ankles.
"This is not how you treat an ambassador! I am going to lodge a formal complaint with your company office!" Willow continues on as she wiggles and pulls her hooved legs to try and get them free.
"'ey, stop wigglin," Mr. Stitch says, lowering Willow's legs so he can finish ripping apart her clothes. "I take you to head office, complain there. Or.." he holds up another strip of cloth. "Gag time."
"You wouldn't dare!" Willow bellows at Mr. Stitch. At least yelling gets her legs to stop moving a little.
Once the mare is naked, Mr. Stitch seems satisfied. "Sure I dare," he tells her. His twin then declares, in a much less raspy voice, "Got it, let's go." With a grunt, he hefts the money chest and heads for the door.
"You be glad I no search your holes, but not got that kind of time," Mr. Stitch says, and lifts Willow up, and puts her over his shoulder, ass forward.
"A gentleman wouldn't stare at a lady in the nude," Willow adminishes the pirate. She tries to pill her legs up to cover herself ... but ends up over his shoulder instead with a whinny. "How dare you!" she calls out, again, as if it would do any good.
"Who staring?" the Vartan asks, and ducks so that Willow doesn't bang anything on the door frame. Then it's out into the chill air. She sees Janik scowling at another Vartan raider with a drawn cutlass, and then she's falling as her captor leaps over the side of the airship and drops into the darkness.
Wow, unicorns have a really shrill cry when scared! The sensation of falling and not having wings is utterly terrifying! "Bad plan, bad plan!" she thinks.
Then the Vartan's wings snap out and turn the plummet into level flight. "Shush! Or gag!" the man yells, then lets out a series of loud squawks. These get answered, only louder.
The unicorn replies with decidedly unpleasant things due to being scared out of her mind! One thing she doesn't do, is squirm ... she doesn't want to fall now.
There's a jolt, and things feel different. Then Willow is shifting off of the no-longer-flapping Vartan and down across his knees. They're on the back of a Rakhtor now, flying low enough that Willow can catch glimpses of the rocky ground.
Willow's eyes are wide. "Why did you take me?" she demands to know ... while she tries to at least get an idea of their speed and heading; useful information to relay later.
The Rakhtor is following.. well, something that doesn't seem to relate to the landscape, which is fairly uniform when Willow can see it. They must be going into the mountains. "Boss will want see you," Mr. Stitch replies.
He then pats Willow's bottom with a talon. Pat-pat.
"And who is your boss?" Willow asks. The patting hands ears a swat from her leonine tail, though!
The swat earns a squeeze! "Boss is boss," Mr. Stitch says. "Mr. Bright."
"Ow!" Willow complains, then swats once more ... but will wisely not swat again no matter what he does. "Is he like you, then? Or is he educated?" she asks.
"He special," the Vartan says. "You learn, or not, soon 'nuff. Maybe he not like you, give to me."
"Give me? For what?" Willow demans to know.
"Whatever I wants! Fix you tongue first, though," Mr. Stitch says.
"Fix my tongue? What do you mean by that?" Willow now demands!
"Maybe cut," the man says. "Or make you sound like me! But I gets stabbed in voice-box. Aeonians no age, right?"
"No, we don't age," Willow says, her voice a little more trembly hearing that. Egad.
The man rasp-laughs again. "If he give you to me, I keep you forever. When I too old, give to son. Then grandson. Then great-grandson."
"That will never happen!" Willow insists. "He'll know better and set me free!"
There's something different in the air. It's an odor.. almost like incense. It's faint - well, faint for Willow. Vartans aren't known for to have much of a sense of smell, but Rakhtors probably do. Their mount seems to be following it anyway, but maybe it can see in the dark too.
Willow's sizeable nostrils flare as she tries to smell ore of that odd scent. "/Is this another old/hidden temple?/" she wonders.
"Or just a guide for the mounts. Good to know," Willow thinks.
At some point, the odor intensifies just as the air changes slightly. Willow is sure they're under something, since the chill recedes a bit.
There are more auras around them.. the other Rakhtors and riders? It doesn't seem that any of the Eeee are with them though. They may not have survived the Yodh, or are still too far out.
"Cave? Cavern? Outcropping?" Willow wonders as she focuses more on her other senses. "Where are we?" she demands to know after her being quiet for a bit.
"And you better have some good clothing for me to replace what you ruined!" Willow adds as an afterthought.
"Nearly home, you shou' be thrilled," Mr. Stitch says. Sure enough, there are more people ahead, and before long the Rakhtor lands. There are torches lighting up this area of the cavern. At least the floor and one wall. Mr. Stitch dismounts and lifts down Willow. "Eh, you not need clothes here, nice and warm!" he claims. With a slash of his cutlass, the bindings on Willow's ankles are cut so she can at least stand up on her own.
The slash makes her cry out! "You could have cut my legs!" she complains at the man as her tail-tufte poofs way out. "It is not that warm," she insists, and with the perkiness of her nipples, her body tends to concur! She continues to glare at the man too. "I demand that you release me and send me to the nearest Sylvanian Consulate," she says.
"Sylva-what?" Mr. Stitch asks, then puts a hand on the back of Willow's neck and starts pushing her along. She draws a lot of looks from.. quite a menagerie. A Fnerf, some Rhians and even Jupani are working the area, putting hoods on the Rakhtors or helping wounded Vartans. The Vartan with the money chest vanishes through a tunnel (natural or carved), but Mr. Stitch is pushing Willow towards a tall black Rhian with a white blaze. He's only wearing breeches, but has bands crossing over his chest and shoulders.. and what looks like a flog at his hip.
Willow tries to stand tall even when pushed and try to retain some dignity. A glance to those that stare at her only get a snort, but when she spots the large Rhain, this makes her a little nervous. Her tail flicks around to try and cover up her unmentionables with its tufte. "Sylvania, the county I come from," she says, "As I said, I am an ambassador from one of its counties."
"Don't know it," Mr. Stitch says, bringing her up before the Rhian. "This Mr. Sackcloth, he take care of you," the Vartan says. Mr. Sackcloth looks Willow up and down.. then reaches out and checks that her horn is real, just like Stitch did.
"Erk, hey! Yes, it is real. I am Willow Ebonmane, and I demand to be taken to a Sylvanian consulate," she repeates to the Rhian man-handling her horn. "And yanking on my horn hurts, I will have you know!"
"Hmm," the Rhian says, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "Yeah, I surprised too," Mr. Stitch says. "You know what to do?"
Mr. Sackcloth nods, and asks Willow, "You gonna give me trouble?"
"What do you mean, what to do?" Willow asks as she looks between the two beasts. She then looks at the Rhain and asks, "Define trouble? I am a lady."
"You complain, or gonna be quiet?" the stallion clarifies. "I not gonna answer questions or demands. I just the slave-master."
"I am not a slave," Willow says with a huff. "I am a lady."
"Then you walk with me, instead of being carried," the Rhian says. "Like a lady." He then steps aside and gestures 'after you' with both arms.
Willow snorts, holds her head and nose up, then walks past the Rhain in the direction indicated. "Are you going to untie my hands?"
"Yes," Mr. Sackcloth says. "Just not now." He keeps guiding through twists and turns in the tunnel. Willow can sense about thirty people so far, not including any raiders that might show up later.
"Then where are you taking me?" Willow inquires as she continues to try and sense all those present. "And are you going to let me go soon?"
"To your.. room," the horse says. "Not my decision to let you go."
"Room? It best have zolk sheets upon a three-layer mattress, nested in an ornate sleigh-bed frame. Also, new clothes for me, since that beast back there ruined mine," Willow demands as she continues to walk along a bit haughtily.
"Can't have you bringin' anything here," Mr. Sackcloth explains. "Here we are." They stop before a door that is hinged on the outside.. and has a crossbar as well. This is slide aside and Mr. Sackcloth opens the door onto darkness.
"That does not look like a room fit for me. I demand better," Willow huffs as she peers into the darkness.
"This best you get, unless you really nice," the Rhian says. He takes one of the hanging lanterns from the tunnel, then pushes Willow forward into the room.
The unicorn whinnes and stumbles into the dark room ahead of the Rhain. "Rude!" she complains.
The lantern sheds light on the chamber when Sackcloth follows. It's small, with a single rough-hewn table, a cot with a straw matress.. and a lot of manacles. None are iron thankfully, but there are ominous stains on the floor under the wall manacles and also on the ratty mattress cloth. "So, wall or bed?" Mr. Sackcloth asks.
Willow does not look happy, at all. Her tail lashes all about as she looks at the meager accommodations. She starts and stops saying something several times as she wants to argue, but then decides on at least something that should give her less pain right now. "Bed," she says as her tail flicks in agitation.
Setting the lantern on the table, Mr. Sackcloth unties Willow's hands. "Lay on your back, legs spread and hands behind your head."
Willow lets her hands get untied enough that she can move them behind her head, then lays down on the horrible mattress, placing her hands where instructed, then spreads her legs nervously. She does curl her tail up between them to protect her unmentionables at least. She keeps glaring at the Rhain, too.
At least she doesn't feel anything moving in the mattress. Mr. Sackcloth ignores the glares, and secures her wrists in the manacles on the wall behind the bed. Once those are done, he straps her ankles down as well. Rather than 'solid' manacles, these are mostly leather belts attached to ropes instead of chains.. but they're probably enough for most prisoners. "Comfortable?" the Rhian has the nerve to ask after Willow is fully strapped in.
"No, I'm not comfortable at all. This is not how you treat a lady," Willow retorts in frustration to the stallion. "The joke's over, you can take me to my real room now; this room isn't even fit for a rhugrhat."
Mr. Sackcloth just looks down at her. "You are a prisoner," he points out. Then reaches down between her legs and gives her a squeeze to drive the point home.
This makes the mare whinny! "You uncouth barbarian!" she almost-growls at him as her legs try to close, but can't. Her tail can swat, though, and does swat his hand and arm.
"Don't be mean, I'm the one that will be feeding you," Mr. Sackcloth says, then stands up and goes to collect the lantern, which he takes with him into the hall. The door closes, and Willow is left in darkness for the time being.
"Welcome to hell, here's your infested bed, bindings, and darkness. Wheee," Willow thinks as she sighs to herself in the darkness, feeling uncomfortable about this situation. Since she's not moving, though, she extends her senses to try and see how many may be nearby.
There are more auras now, so some of the raiding force must have made it back. There are several auras in the tunnel outside the door.. and Mr. Sackcloth is one of them, just guarding the door apparently and shooing people away. There's one that's moving down the tunnel from deeper into the complex though.. and seems very calm.
"Crap, that might be their leader. In another situation, the stallion would be hot and I'd want him, but right now I want to geld him." Willow thinks a bit darkly. She tries to narrow-focus her sense on the one moving down, the calm one, to try and guess size and species if possible.
The aura isn't that specific, since she hasn't met the mysterious Mr. Bright yet. She can tell he isn't a Vartan or Rhian though - his emotions seem very controlled, not something the others are very good at. Naga can be dispassionate like that however. Willow should learn soon enough, as he's already outside the door. The other hangers-on have fled, so it's just him and Mr. Sackcloth right now.
Willow tries to listen, to hear his voice. "Who are you?" she wonders, eyes narrow. Her nostrils flare too as she sniffs, seeing if she can smell him.
Her nostrils are still filled with the incense of the landing area, but the door opens and the lantern leads in. This.. doesn't help. It's being held up so that the glare hides the bearer's face, but at least it's not a Naga. Mr. Bright wears some kind of tailored, expensive looking suit, presumably of Saskanar styling. He doesn't say anything as he enters the room, and Mr. Sackcloth closes the door behind him.
"Gneh," Willow says and her eyes wince against the bright light! She tries to make out his species, even if she can't make out his face! "I am Lady Willow Ebonmane of Sylvania. I am an Ambassador. You should release me to the nearest Sylvanian consulate," she says, trying to sound calm.
"There are no Sylvanian consulates on this continent, that I am aware of," Mr. Bright says in a pleasant voice. He comes closer, and finally sets the lantern down on the table next to the cot so that Willow can see him. Warm violet eyes gaze down at her, framed by long white hair that is parted by the pearlescent spiral horn jutting out from his forehead. The white Aeonian sits on the edge of the cot. "A black Aeonian," he notes, and runs a blunt fingertip from Willow navel to her collarbone. "An omen of bad fortune, aren't you?"
This makes Willow blink, repeatedly. This is unexpected. She squirms and tries to draw away from that touch, too. "That is mere rumor and superstition, as well you know," she counters, "There has never been proof that we are bringers of ill fortune. And you bring disgrace to your race, fraternizing with these ... beasts."
"Fraternizing?" Mr. Bright asks, and cups one of Willow's breasts out of curiosity. "They work for me. That is our relationship. I don't recall ever meeting a female Aeonian before. Memory is such a fickle thing, when one can outlive it."
The cupping makes her arch a little. "Are you going to release me?" she asks a bit bluntly. "As for meeting a female, well, given the company you keep currently, it is not surprising."
"Release.. that has many meanings," Mr. Bright says, and moves to cupping Willow's chin, and moving her head side to side as he examines her. "I'm going to.. well, it can't be called mating since our kind are infertile.. but the mechanics are the same. Then I'd like to know more about how you came to be on that airship. There are so few of us that such run-ins are hard to accept as coincidence."
Willow tries to pull her chin out of his hand. "I am not bedding you," she says. "As for why, I'm an Ambassador, I have been working in Babel to establish trade relations with Sylvania, and intended to do the same in Saskanar. I obtained passage on the ship leaving for there that aligned with my schedule. That's it."
"Hmm, Sylvania is looking to trade with a different continent?" Mr. Bright asks, and starts to remove his shirt. "I'm interested into what sort of trade you're seeking then. I suppose the railroad has opened up new avenues of shipping that the weather previously prevented."
"We would not want to trade with you," Willow says, voice soft, controlled. "No someone who employs slavers and murderers. We have had enough of that."
Mr. Bright actually folds his zolk shirt and sets it on the table, before doing the same with his pants. He's very shiny, so either uses expensive soap or it's just a quality of unicorns in general.
In another situation, she might consider him handsome; right now he's a loathesome soul in a pretty body. "You are not mating with me," she repeats from earlier and tries to close her legs.
"No, I suppose I'm not," Mr. Bright concedes, and pulls Willow's tail aside before mounting her. Her legs can't move much, alas, so that method of shielding is out. "I suppose I'm ravishing you instead."
"Twists and turns, and perverts," Willow thinks as she squirms about to try and deny him entry, though she cannot move very much. "How and why is he here? Why is he here? What is he ultimately going to do with me? I suppose I could contact Tulani fast so I am not here long at all," her mind races, then she bucks and whinnies when the other Aeonian deftly penetrates her, and it's of course a bit painful since she wasn't aroused at all! "Bastard," she mutters out, and then looks away.