Event 1: A Moment Remembered
Event 1: A Moment Remembered
Ruto woke with a start, placing her palm gently to cup her aching loins. She felt the dribbling ooze of seed slip out of her as she winced in memory of the horrific fury Naar was in the previous evening. He stormed into the tent, belt buckle flying and trousers dropping as he threw her to the furs and pounded deep into her with the force of a battering ram. She dared not cry out for fear of having him hit for her weakness. She bit her lower lip and endured the agony as he slammed into her time and again, an animalistic snarl heralding the onset of his release.
She turned her head to see the bed empty and the covers ruffled and splayed out across the bed, some draping down to brush the dusty floor of earth and grunge. He must have left earlier seeing as how his clothes were mysteriously absent from the chair and table where they fell during the commotion. She sat up shakily as she held her body tight, rocking back and forth as the ebb of pain began to slowly drain away from her being.
How long had she been cooped up in this tent? How long had she been forced into this life? She could barely remember the years of days long past when she recalled swimming with her kin through the tranquil, blue waters of home; nothing but a distant memory now. She scoffed at herself for fancying such wayward thoughts. This was her life now and she best be sure she got used to it!
Shivering slightly as she stood, she wrapped the dark cloak around her, clasping the brooch around her neck to keep it affixed to her frame. It was a 'gift', as Naar liked to call it, for her during their second year together. At the time, it was far bigger than she was and it dragged across the ground as she walked. These days, she had grown much taller and the bottom edges of the cloak reached to her ankles. It was suffocating in the harsh heat of summer but it was refreshingly warm and cozy during the bitter reaches of winter.
Ruto paced over to her small corner of the tent where Naar allowed her to keep some fashioned relics or trinkets. In some small way it was a bit of solace for her to think he'd permit such petty things within their tent. However she did not question and instead cherished the time she had with her treasures.
She picked up a wilted and shriveled flower from a vase filled with dirty water. Such a precious, fragile thing she had found just the other day when going out on a raid in the nearby province of Eldin. She had knelt down to the flash of color that caught her eye and plucked it from the ground. She twirled it this way and that and marveled at its simplistic beauty. Thinking it novel, she took it home and decided to care for it. It did little good as it slowly putrefied and died within days of placing it in the water. Now it was just a shadow of its former self.
Setting the flower back into the vase, she picked up her mud figures. During the deep cries of the night, Naar snoring uncomfortably beside her, she'd roll over and reach down into the muddy dirt beneath their bed and form figurines from the refuse. Naar would routinely destroy them and crush them beneath the heel of his boot, claiming them childish and foolish. She did not care, she continued to make them and play with them. Coming up with grand adventures and feats of daring do, she would have them enact those scenes with gusto.
One figurine in particular held much interest for Ruto. She picked it up and turned it over in her hands. It was a small figure with a slight protrusion that might be mistaken for something else but to her it was a sword. She smiled fondly at the decrepit mass of mud. With a sudden flash of remembrance she cursed slightly. Holding the figurine firmly, she swiped the battered flower from the vase and swept out of the tent.
Several men gazed up from their pitched fires but quickly averted their attention as they saw her sweep by. None dared disrupt Naar's Dark Mistress when she was on a mission. Too many men had made the mistake of waylaying her and taking her for a common female, something to be raped and enjoyed. She destroyed many men who unknowingly made such an error. Her acid was unrivaled in its caustic properties. Men's bodies could not regenerate fast enough to combat the destructive bile that would eat away at their skin, organs and bone. One man lasted for a full three days after a mouthful of acid down his throat before finally being taken away to be burned. No, not a single man who knew of her wanted anything to do with the vile witch.
Ruto stalked ahead with purpose, ignoring the glares and curses a few of the men shot at her. Being the newly minted fourth commander of Naar's armies did not win her many favors with the common peons that made up the bulk of the Nevachrean army. Deftly avoiding an aimed spit at her leg, she flexed her leg fins sharply and delivered a swift kick to the man's neck, effectively slicing off his head.
Ignoring his cries of misery, she abruptly stopped at the source of her focus. An elderly brute noticed her presence and turned to face her. He began to produce a rather well-formed spit but decided against it as he perceived the look she gave him. Wiping his filthy hands against his stained apron, he set down his wrench and looked at her indolently.
"What do you want?" He drawled.
Ruto bristled at the disrespect but decided to keep her mood in check. This was a special day today, best not ruin it this early. "I require one bottle of your best wine." She stated firmly.
The man blinked before thinking better of his original decision and spat anyway. Ruto glared at the pile of mucus coalescing in the mud beside her foot. "That stuff don't come cheap no more missy." The man taunted. "If you want me to spare some for you, you best give me what I want." He leered down at her body, his eyes fixated on the delightful folds between her legs.
Without a second thought, Ruto hocked up a rather nasty glob of bile and spit it on the man's foot. It immediately burned through the leather boots and began disintegrating his skin. "Two can play that game." Ruto sneered as she delighted in the man's cries. "You will give me your best bottle or I will give you a kiss you won't ever recover from." She glowered intensely, daring him to refuse.
Whimpering at the intolerable pain of his foot, he raised a hand in supplication. "All right! Give me a moment, I'll find one for you." He staggered off to search the pile of rubbish and trash building up on this side of the camp. Within a few minutes he returned with a half drunk bottle of red wine. She frowned at it but shrugged, it would have to do.
Without a further word to the sniveling man, she snatched it from his outstretched hand and proceeded deeper into the camp. She knew exactly what she was looking for, because she had set it up the year prior. Hardly anything moved within the camp since the soldiers cared little of material possessions. With only food and sex being the last two pleasures left in their pathetic, immortal lives, things like the metal table and chair before her stayed untouched.
She sulked at the sight of the table. She wouldn't call it completely untouched since various splashes of color and other unknown liquids had been spilt onto its structure from countless soldiers reveling on or around it. There was even bird shit that had dried dripping to the ground on the chair. Ruto squinted up at the roving birds flying above the chaos, such disgusting creatures she affirmed.
She set down the bottle of wine on the table and affixed the rotting flower into a makeshift stand, its petals drooping down to the side. She admired her handiwork but realized a few more items were missing. Huffing with impatience, she turned on her heel and went into the lieutenant quarters, a collection of tents for senior officers in the army. They would most likely have what she was looking for.
A guttural laugh and youthful wailing triggered her ears to the object of her desire. Sitting just outside a tent, atop a rather lavish, red velvet chair (stolen during one of their raids no doubt), was a rather young man laughing at the misery of his Kokiri captive he had paid for that night. She was bawling uncontrollably as the man bounced her up and down on his lap, each time piercing her small frame with his enormous phallus; blood trailing down her legs.
Ruto walked up to the disgusting man and demanded, "I have need of that chair you are in."
Ramming the Kokiri hard onto his lap, he firmly held her there as he haughtily regarded the Zoran commander. Irritated that his time of pleasure had been interrupted, he jeered, "When I'm done with her, then you can have the chair."
Between the man's arrogance and the sobbing moans of the Kokiri, Ruto had had enough. She gave a hard shove with her foot to the base of the chair. Both the man and the Kokiri went flying. Without moments, the young girl dislodged the man's weapon and began scampering off in-between the tents. A brief look of worry flashed across Ruto's face for the poor girl. She knew that the Kokiri would never make it to the edge of the camp before being taken by another. Such a wretched fate they all had.
The man rose up, brandishing a sword as he brought it down upon Ruto. "You filthy bitch! That was my wench for the night!"
Ruto sidestepped adroitly the clumsy swing of the drunken lieutenant and brought her flexed fin down upon his chest. Slicing through ribs and bone, his upper half slumped to the ground as his legs pitched forward into the bloody dirt. The man raved and spittle was flying everywhere.
"When I put myself back together, I'm going to rape you and kill you!" The man slurred heatedly.
Ruto put a foot on the man's face and lowered her own towards his chest. "I'll make sure you can't do that then." She smirked. She took in a deep breath, gills flaring, before releasing a stream of viscous acid onto his chest. Within seconds, it bore a hole down to his heart; the fluid hungrily eating away at the flesh. His eyes dilated as he looked up at her, croaking on his own blood.
With a satisfied smile, Ruto picked up the plush chair and walked back to the arrangement she had set up. She breathed a sigh of relief that nothing had been stolen yet. Setting the chair down opposite the metal one, she tapped a finger to her lips a few times. What else was missing? She took one glimpse at the wine bottle and snapped her fingers. Of course! She needed glasses.
She raced back to Naar's tent and threw aside the entrance flap. Thankfully Naar wasn't in residence or he would have put a stop to this whole thing. She dove into the trunk at the base of their bed and brought out two goblets caked with grease and grime. Ignoring the sickly nature of the drinking cups, she rushed back to her table and set one on each side. She gingerly poured the remaining wine into both cups before setting it out onto the table.
She took the flower delicately and re-propped it back up into its holder. She gently set the figurine with the sword down onto the other chair, ensuring that it was facing her. Several soldiers passed by and gave her odd looks. Recognizing who she was, they quickened their pace and went about their business. Paying them no heed, she swept back her cloak with a flourish and sat down pristinely like a royal member of the court would do, onto the cold metal of the opposite chair.
She lifted up the glass of murky wine, giving it a few swirls as she regarded the contents of her goblet. Her gaze met the man she could perceive across the table from her, embodied by nothing more than dirt and clay. Several tears began to form at the corner of her eyes as she remembered the promise they had made that day, she couldn't even remember the year.
"I hope you like the wine, my husband." Ruto probed fruitlessly at the unfeeling clay figure before her. "I made sure I picked up only the best for this special occasion."
Ruto tipped the goblet to her lips and sipped the burning liquid. Salty tears began to flow unbidden down her face as she celebrated morosely, "Happy anniversary, my beloved."