She was put in a room by herself, as instructed by a human barking orders to the others. He had the look of an outlaw, scruffy beard and large hat included. Keshira’s talent at seeing magical auras allowed her to realize that he was a mage of some sort as well.
Keshira could still feel her bond with Dexter. He was alive and well, though distant. She wanted to be near him, but did not know what it was that he wanted. He could tell her, of course, but he did not know that. Even from a distance he could communicate with her through their bond, but he did not know how and had never asked her. For the first time in her short life, Keshira understood frustration.
She suspected that, with time, she could work herself free of the ropes holding her. By herself she knew she could not win their freedom. Against a handful of the pirates, she had no doubt she would win. Against the numbers that had already came at them she knew she was destined to fail again.
They overwhelmed her when they realized their weapons did little to her. The sheer weight of their bodies held Keshira down until they lashed ropes around her. She had bloodied many of them, and slain more than a few as well. Ultimately they proved resistance was futile. The fact that capturing her had cost them dearly meant nothing to her, for she remained captured.
Keshira considered freeing the others if she escaped. Doing so would amount to little good, considering the lot of them had not been able to win their freedom in the first battle. The hopelessness of her situation left her feeling empty and angry. If only her Captain would show some sign of caring for them. Instead he remained far away, still on the asteroid.
Keshira felt something then. Something deep inside of her. She felt a great sadness and grief that shocked her. It came not from within her but from her bond to her Captain. He was no closer, but she did feel his despair. She longed to comfort him and to be there for him, so that she might take away his pain. Wordlessly her lips moved, crying out silently with the emotions she felt from him.
Miserably, she lay naked and bound on the floor for many long minutes, until suddenly the feelings of grief gave way to a surge of hope and determination. It waxed and stayed strong, reassuring her with its strength. After too long for her to measure, an hour or more at the least, she suddenly felt the distance between them closing. She could feel her Captain getting closer.
Keshira smiled in the dark cell; her Captain was coming for her.
Jenna heard the approach of their captors down the hallway first. She waved at Bailynn, who lay deceptively quiet on the floor along the wall the door opened up against, then arranged herself in the middle of the room in a pose that made lewd and indecent pale in comparison. Both feigned unconsciousness.
The footsteps slowed to a stop outside of their room. Beady eyes peered through the barred window and chuckled at seeing Jenna arranged as she was. “Look,” the owner of the eyes grunted harshly. “She’ll be a good whore, laying like that!”
The first person moved aside so another could look, and his laughter joined in. Something heavy, no doubt a wooden beam, was dragged out of its rests where it barred the door and the door opened outwards. One of the figures stepped inside carrying a bowl with something that smelled far from nutritious. He revealed himself to be a half-orc, while his partner behind him was a full blooded orc.
He glanced at Bailynn and dismissed her, then bent over to rest the bowl on the floor. He drew back his foot to kick Jenna when Bailynn exploded into action with a ferocity that matched her earlier attempt, when bound, to reach Rosh on the Voidhawk.
The wisp of a girl flew across the room, looking every bit as fearsome as she had when she had come for Jenna. Catching the half-orc unawares, she crashed into him and clamped her teeth down on his throat, ripping and tearing the flesh and meat away. Her fingers speared into his shoulder and chest, parting the skin and seeking for his lifeblood.
The orc recoiled, stunned by the sudden and vicious attack. He tried to back up, the thought of calling for help only beginning to enter his mind. Jenna was up already though, lunging at him and driving her forearm into his throat, silencing him. He retched and tried to stumble away from her, but she pursued him, lashing out with kicks and punches that, while largely ineffective, kept him on the defensive.
The orc pulled up a cudgel that hung from his side, realizing he had a weapon. He raised it and swung at her, now confident with a weapon in his hand. Jenna ducked under the club and kicked him in the groin as hard as she could. The orc gasped for breath and tried to stumble backwards. His legs turned to jelly and instead he ended up falling on his back. The pirate curled into a fetal position; he was unable to otherwise deal with the pain that overwhelmed him.
Jenna grabbed up his club and beat him with it, breaking bones in his hands and arms and then face and skull. She looked up after a long moment, realizing she had lost herself in her wanton butchery, and looked around. Bailynn was watching her, a fearful expression on her face. The expression was out of place, considering the blood that was still wet around her lips and chin.
“Do you know how to use a club?” Jenna asked her after taking a breath to fight down the adrenaline coursing through her blood.
Bailynn shook her head and looked at her hands instead, which were also smeared with the blood of her victim.
“Okay, let’s hurry and find our friends,” Jenna said, understanding that she only knew how to be the savage killer that Jenna’s kin had turned her into. With a blush of shame coloring her skin, Jenna hurried down the hallway to the next door and peered into it.
No sooner had she looked in when a shout came at them from down the hallway. Two more slavers approached, one of them carrying another bowl of what passed for stew. Another two hurried down the stairs behind them, with a third bowl. They set the stew down and drew their clubs, with the furthest on in the back rushing back up a set of stairs to get more help.
Jenna cursed and turned to face them. “Open that door, I couldn’t tell if anyone was in there or not,” she said.
Bailynn moved past her and shifted the heavy wooden beam out of the locks before pulling open the door and looking in. Kragor peered out, ready to spring into action himself in spite of recognizing Jenna’s voice and hearing the sounds of the scuffle. Behind him a strange man, Xander, stood and stared at her curiously.
“About time,” Kragor said, hurrying out of the room and turning to move up beside Jenna. “Where’s Jodyne?”
The slavers had advanced cautiously down the passage, pausing to glance at the two corpses the women had left in their wake before coming towards them.
“Lynn, can you check the other doors?” Jenna asked, not daring to stand down from her position. She glanced down at the dwarf and found herself smirking in spite of their situation.
“Not a word, elf,” Kragor growled at her, picking up the wooden plank used to bar the door to his and Xander’s cell.
“Yes, Sir,” Jenna said, failing to hide her smile.
Kragor scowled but dismissed it as the pirates approached them.
“You throw down that club and we’ll go easy on ya,” one of them said, addressing Jenna.
Jenna ignored him, and instead stood in her defensive position, club raised. The motley pirate crew snarled, spat, and insulted them before finally just rushing forward with the intent of overrunning them.
The close quarters aided Kragor, for his was able to get inside the reach of their opponents and use his smaller size to his advantage. Jenna, though unfamiliar with the tips and tricks of wielding a club, gave better than she received, smashing into every unprotected attacker that presented himself to her. In a matter of moments Kragor picked up a dropped club from a fallen slaver and was able to provide a more dangerous opponent as well.