Imprisoned (Will and Terrel)

Huff. He breathed out heavily, heart screaming like hot metal upon an anvil. Blood pumped behind his ears, clouding his ability to hear. But he was fortunate, that serpent-like man, for he had found his prey, and above all, it had found him. The two beasts faced each other now, waiting for the other to break the silence. There would be no escaping for either of them, the warrior's instincts tingling with the impending danger. But he was confident in his abilities, and despite the deadliness of his adversary, his confidence did not waver. "Victory predicted at above sixty percent. Chance of injury likely. Exercise caution." Azher muttered in his own language, a series of serpentine hisses and clicks. His eyes darted back and forth, taking in not only his enemy, but the surrounding woods. Likewise, both nostrils flared at every scent, data flowing into his body through every conduit.

"Success rate will fall as animal regains stamina. Commencing attack." The lumbering beast took a step forward, snorting loudly and pawing at the ground. "Begin." Azher would not be intimidated, nor would he falter. The boar was larger than he, its tusks sharp enough to spear him through with the slightest toss of its head. Head low, it was clear the male pig was ready to charge, but was waiting for its chance. Azher would give it to him. Foot moving tentatively forward, his single toe touched down upon the cool soil--and flew out from beneath him, sliding along rain slick lichen and moss! Squealing and tossing its head into the air, the boar's eyes opened, fully aware that the Tokay had made a miscalculation. Lurching forward, its heavy body causing the roots below it to splinter and crack, the overgrown beast took off at breakneck pace, intending to spit the unfortunate hunter through one of its tusks.

But it would not be so lucky. Its vision blocked by Azher's own body, there was no way the boar could have seen the warrior's tail wrap tensely around a root on the ground, just as he had taken his step forward. His foot did lose its traction, and he would have fallen; but his tail, coupled with his other foot, kept him from collapsing to the ground. Recovering quickly, putting his errant foot back onto the ground, Azher backpedaled, disappearing behind the trunk of a large tree. But the pig did not care, for they were twigs in his wake, nothing more than wood waiting to become kindling. Without a single glance around the tree, Azher knew that death was coming for him. But it would not claim him. Turning about, running quickly to another, smaller tree not far off, he leaped into the air, arms extended forth.

Sharp claws and sticky pads gripped the bark of the trunk, allowing for the Tokay to quickly scale the tree up into its leafy boughs. Not too soon, either, as the boar came crashing through the tree he had temporarily taken refuge behind. Blinded as the wood exploded into tiny shards, the beast could not see its prey, roosting high above it. Using the strong limb as a springboard, Azher jumped from above, hands put tightly together and held high over his head. Spine arching backwards, muscles straining, it looked as if a crescent moon, made of shimmering white and blue, was falling from the heavens. Azher collapsed his body by bending forward, throwing his hammer fists down, and bringing his knees up around his ears. With a resounding crack, his doubled fists, wearing his goron iron knuckle dusters, smote the skull of the boar. Rolling off the still moving hulk, flying off its back end, Azher rolled through the air and landed on his foot, stumbling forward with his momentum. The beast took a few, staggering steps forward, then slumped to the ground. "Terminated."

-- -------

Of course, it was impossible for the relatively small Tokay to drag the corpse back to his camp. And so, rather than try to bring the boar with him in pieces, he simply decided to bring his camp to it. That was rather simple, considering he didn't really have any other possessions, aside from the cloak that rested about his shoulders. He did not even bother returning to the small hut he had hastily made from sticks. Taking out a small, sharpened rock, which he had spent several days worrying it down so that it had a sharp edge, Azher began the grueling task of cutting the pig into several pieces. Unlike his more bestial kin, he did not set upon its meats immediately. Instead, what was most important was cut away first, beginning with its tusks, and then its hair. After hours had passed, the late afternoon quickly approaching, the Tokay had finally finished his work. Standing up, looking over his work proudly, he finally took his pleasures.

The organs had to go first, of course. Never a fan of uncooked meat, Azher nonetheless began to scarf down as much as possible, filling his mostly empty stomach to almost bursting. Aside from a few scavenged berries, and some edible leaves, it had been awhile since he'd had a good meal, and despite the mess, he did still enjoy himself. But there was still more work to be done, so even while his full stomach wanted nothing more than to lay down and nap, he could not. Moving quickly, moreso than his slightly distended belly would suggest that he could, he set to the task of drying the skin of the boar. He was in a new land, and he would need all the resources he could get. For once thankful for having been a slave, for he'd learned a great deal of skills useful to him now, he heaved up the heavy and wet skin, placing it onto a large boulder. Grabbing a liberal handful of salt from a pouch tied to his loincloth, the Tokay spread the grainy substance across the wet hide, glad to see it already begin to visibly shrink.

Jumping down from the height, Azher continued to be productive. Running through a laundry list of things, his mind and senses were so preoccupied that he never heard them approaching. The smoke from a fire he had built had served to be little more than a signal, that there was someone within the woods. The Tokay could not have possibly known, for in his tribe, things were not "owned". Rather, the strong took what they wanted, leaving the scraps for those weaker than themselves. And while perhaps the same thing applied, the Tokay was far more used to dealing with a physical threat, than that of the law. It wasn't until he heard the murmur of metal, the stirring of steel, that Azher realized his danger. Looking up from his work, he saw that he was surrounded. "Escape impossible. Death assured. Surrender the only path." He said, as angrily as his dispassionate voice could manage. Standing upon his two feet, he looked at his assailants.

Strange, pink and fleshy creatures, but clearly humanoid. They, at the very least, had something in common. Using what little command he had of the language he'd learned from the pirates, Azher's long tongue wrapped around the syllables awkwardly and slowly. "Am traveller from far island, very very far!" He exclaimed, enunciating every word, hoping that he'd be understood. He breathed a sigh of relief, as he saw surprise and the glint of recognition in the eyes of these strange men. But they did not lower their weapons, swords and spears still held and the ready and pointed directly at him. A knight, wearing a scratched and worn helm, tore the covering from his head. A strong warrior. Azher noted in his head, noticing the scars on the mans face, that could have only from the bite of metal. The Tokay was not pleased to see a grimace plastered upon the Hylian's face, however.

"Doesn't look like any Lizalfos I've ever seen. I don't know where it learned its Hylian, but it's pretty damned ugly, but it could definitely be lying." the leader of the soldier's commented, pensive, but already sure of his decision. "Nevertheless, he was caught hunting game in the King's Woods. By law, his death is required. Tie him up, men. He looks smart enough not to resist, at the least." Shaking his head, he placed his helm back upon his head, turning smartly and trotting off into the woods. As he said, Azher realized how dire his situation was, but he also knew that escaping with his life would be impossible. Clutching his meager, but precious possessions to his chest as if his life depended on it, the Tokay struck such a pitiful image, despite its rather frightening visage, that the men let it keep even its weapons; for what could the lizard's fists do against their sharp steel? Tying his hands together, they fell behind their commander, and set off towards a city in the distance. But Azher knew what it was, for he had caught a single word; his Death.

Re: Imprisoned (Will Solo)

There, the pearly white gates, marble glistening in the dwindling orange spears. As they approached, despite his impending doom, Azher could not be helped but be moved by the grandeur and beauty that was Castle Town. How truly, truly small we were. Were we naught but savages? He couldn't help but think to himself, looking at the result of progress and advancement that lay before him. What wonders had these strange people wrought, while his people had whiled away their time? Then, regret pained his heart. An opportunity for escape had yet to present himself, and Azher doubted that it ever would. He was deeply saddened by this, for now he knew that great wonders walked this world, wonders that he had yet to see. He was brought back to reality with a hard shove to his shoulder, and a grumbling soldier's motion to keep walking. "Aah." Was all Azher said, only now realizing his feet had stopped. He lifted one tired foot and put it down against the beaten road, each step he took more difficult than the last.

He could not escape death. But neither could he accept it. So, what was he to do? It seemed all he had left to do was to put one foot in front of the other. He looked up, as the shadow of the gate passed over him, momentarily engulfing him in darkness. It was beautiful, the place that would be his demise, and for that he was thankful. But it was cold, too, alien and hostile. His body would be restless, trapped between these stone walls. Looking down, to the now hushed streets, Azher saw nothing but the same coldness, the same chill, reflected in the eyes of these people. He looked down instinctively, whether out of shame or habit he was unsure, for the eyes he saw now were a ghost from his past. It was beyond anger or hatred, it was the way that one looked at an animal, a pest. The pit of loneliness, that had existed in his heart since birth, swelled to near bursting. Have I only exchanged one prison for another? he despaired. His knees nearly buckled under the weight of the silence, that was broken only by hushed and bitter whispers.

"Assume formation. We're taking our captive to the prison, to be interrogated before put to death." The captain called out to his troops, sensing the tension that lingered in the air, his men forming a tight circle around their quarry. Whether it was to protect the citizens, or the lizard-man, he was not sure. But he was glad he did, for some of the blackness seemed to fade away, leaving only a lingering sentiment. There were many in Castle Town who had lost a family member in the war, many of those falling victim to the vicious Lizalfos. And though the captain did not believe his prisoner to share the blood of their enemies, the people had no such qualms; all they saw was an outlet for their anger, their hatred, their bitter loss. There was no word to describe the relief that washed over him, as they reach the prison house.

Opening the door as swiftly as possible, yanking Azher into the establishment forcibly, the captain closed the door as quickly as he'd opened it, locking it once his last man had come through. "Throw him into an empty cell. We wouldn't want him to die, before the inquisitor made his rounds." the Hylian said wearily, rubbing at his temples. He'd only been patrolling the woods for any possible poachers, and while he had indeed found one, he'd found so much more. The captain doubted their newest prisoner would have any information, but he wouldn't see it that way, oh no. He could already see his cruel smile, as he took pleasure in the screams and cries of his victims. Shuddering just thinking about it, he sat down at a table and began his reports. It was going to be a long night; hell, it was going to be a long couple of days, now.

Re: Imprisoned (Will Solo)

Even the cool, hard, stone felt as if it were made of down. As his head sank down to the ground, Azher was beyond the pain. He still felt the creaking of his bones, the stretching of his tendons, the fire in his throat, but he was beyond caring. He saw only that cruel, pleasured smile, marble-like teeth shining in the darkness. ... Why? was all he had the strength to wonder. They believed him a spy of some sort, that much was obvious, for why else would they interrogate him. Thinking of himself, Azher wondered if he truly appeared so monstrous. "Lizalfos... murderers..." Were the two words that rang in his head, his mouth forming the words instinctively. Of his ancestors, he knew nothing. No stories from his infamous ancestor had been passed down through the family; and perhaps he knew why, now. There was no pride in killing the weak, for no strength was gained.

And yet, Azher was not entirely convinced. What man could believe that the blood of his father was nothing more than a killer's? Of his father's father, and of his father before him? His doubts remained, for all that he had lived, Azher had come to know prejudice, and these Hylians seemed to wear it emblazoned upon their faces. As his mind returned from the brink, so too came the pain. His body was not broken, not was it even permanently damaged. Pulling himself up against the wall, leaning his back against the back of the cell, Azher basked in the moon's light spearing through the barred window. He was in pain, but he was alive. And for that, he was thankful. But for much longer would he remain on this earth?

Standing up, he couldn't help but pitifully pull against the bars to his cell. No, there would be no escape. They had taken everything from him, save his cloak. He hung his head in shame, and for the first time in a long time, he felt rage. It shook through his body, every muscle trembling in its wake. In blind anger, at the infutility of it all, the insignificance of his life, he brought his fists bearing down upon the cell bars. It was as if the floodgates had been opened. As the anger spread to his fingers, his clenched fists cracked against the bars resoundingly. A burst of energy, of the likes Azher had never heard, exploded from his hands, shaking the foundations of the iron bars. Stone cracked and dust and rocks fell to the ground. Again. There was no time for shock, nor awe and wonder, only for action. His fists fell again, and the bars were torn from their slots, sent crashing against the opposite wall.

Three guards remained, for it was twilight. Of the three, one was drunk, the other two slowed by groggy eyes. All three snapped to attention the moment the bars clattered to the ground, each reaching for his sweapon. Azher was beyond thinking, beyond reason. He had a singular goal, and it was survival. And so, he waited; it was not hesitation, nor fear. It was patience. The first of the guards rushed down the thin corridor, skidding to a halt in front of the open-faced cell. "It's the lizard!" He called back to his fellows, who were still fumbling with their swords. He did not hesitate. He lunged forward, eyes clear and full of killing intent, blade brought low to spear through the Tokay's belly.

The small confines of the prison worked against him, for he was limited to using his shorter blade. He lacked the range he would so desperately need. Stepping forward, Azher was given the space he need in his cell to gauge the length of his opponent's weapon and arm span, instinctively twisting his torso to the right as he counter lunged. He winced as the sharp metal glanced off a scale, ever so slightly drawing blood, though the chitin of his scales protected him from taking a deep wound. Hand already in position, Azher grabbed the guard's right hand with his left and leaned back, pulling man further forwards and off balance. The Tokay was glad this man wore only a vest made of tiny chains, rather than plates of metal. Right hand passing over the still thrusting blade, Azher twisted his body to the left this time, putting his full weight behind his right fist as it struck the man in the chest.

There was that feeling again, a twinge of heat as energy pulsed from his fist upon impact. Sparks of magic came to life, making the hard blow even stronger. As the door to his cage, the guard was blown back to the opposite wall, skull cracking against the stone brick. His sword clattered noisily against the ground as its owner slumped to the ground, unconscious. Without missing a beat, Azher grabbed the small weapon, grasping it firmly by the handle. His knuckles were swollen, crackling as he clenched his fist. But for now, they would hold, for such was the fruit of a lifetime of training. Head cocking to his right at the sound of metal grinding upon stone, Azher nearly stumbled, cursing his luck.

There was only room enough for a single guard, in the corridor. Of the two that were approaching, the one that stood in front seemed as if he were made of metal, his hands and feet covered in it, as well as his head. His two large hands grasped a monstrous sword, a claymore by name though Azher knew it not. Though awkward, the man seemed to believe he was invincible, and Azher was inclined to agree. But he held onto that seed of power that was within him, already quickly growing into a sprout. Stepping out of the cell, he lunged at the wall, both hands wrapped around the hilt of the shortsword. The sharp metal split the crack between two bricks, jamming itself deeply into the mortar. Taking several steps back further into the corridor, Azher waited.

He had presented the jailer with two choices. He could take the time to dislodge the blade, and open himself to attack, or he could step around it, into the cell, and back out. To him, the choice was clear; within the corridor, his sword was so large that it would be all but impossible to do anything but thrust. Within the cell, he could at lest slice the impetuous Tokay horizontally or diagonally into pieces. With his decision made, he took a step out diagonally to the left carefully. But not carefully enough. Dropping at a dead run, Azher charged forward, and in his panic, the knight jumped into the cell, whirling his sword from left to right to cleave Azher's shoulders and head from the rest of his body. Falling intentionally, the slickness of his scales sliding across the smoothened stone easily, Azher saw only the shadow of the sword passing above him. Grabbing the knight's leg, he used his momentum and weight to pull it out from the heavy knight.

Using the the great weight of the armored man, Azher brought himself to a full halt, yanking his shoulder painfully in the process. But he had no time for pain. Flipping his body, pushing off the ground with all fours, he leaped into the air, pouncing down upon the fallen knight behind him. The unfortunate man, who'd landed upon his front, was painfully woken to reality; his greatest strength had become his greatest weakness in a moment, the Hylian now finding it impossible to roll over. His qualms were silenced in a moment, as a blast of force came straight through his armor and into his chest, pounding him against the adamant floor. Sinking into unconsciousness, he couldn't help but wonder if nightmares of ferocious lizards would haunt his dreams.

Standing up from his latest victim, Azher turned a violet eye towards the last guard. Stopped by shock, and now frozen in terror, he could not help but feel that he looked into the face of a demon, who would not, and could not be stopped. The moment passed, though his hands till shook as they went to the whistle around his neck. Bringing the wood to cracked lips, he blew hard, its piercing song ringing out into the night air. A half dozen cries rose up to meet his, just as the prisoner began its assault anew. Hesitant, fearful, a hoarse scream escaped his parched lips, as he jumped backwards, madly swinging his sword.

Azher watched and waited, tail swishing madly, as he pushed the Hylian ever closer to a corner. There! Azher leaped forward as the Hylian brought his sword up, to bring his blade crashing down upon the demonic serpent's head, only to find his hands empty, his sword stuck into the low ceiling. Azher kicked out forward with his right foot, square in the chest of his last opponent. Winding him, the Hylian buckled over, and as he did, Azher grabbed the sides of his helm. Jumping backwards, his victim could do nothing but follow, his body yanked forward and his feet out from under him. Bringing his hands down, the guard's helmet hit the ground like a gong, dampened in the blink of an eye as its owner's head settled against it.

Gathering his cloak about him, and his belongings, Azher rummaged quickly through the guard's belongings. He took everything he deemed useful; a key, a map, a flier, and a bag full of rupees. Business in order, he opened the door toe the prison, the cool breeze flooding into the cell. It's good to be free. He stepped out into the night.

Re: Imprisoned (Will Solo)

Clutching at his side, breathing heavily, the heat of his breath hanging in the air, Azher took a moment of respite. Back to the cold stone, he leaned his head back, feeling its chill smoothness bring an almost soothing calm, despite his dire situation. Drawing in a shuddering breath, he looked down to his wound from which his lifeblood oozed. He sucked air in sharply as he poked at the tender flesh, glad to see it at least seemed to be a clean cut. Lucky. And he truly was, for it seemed the blade had struck nothing vital, and though some muscle had been cleaved, it was relatively superficial. A guttural growl gurgled from deep within his chest, something of a sigh. Though he had escaped the prison of iron, he still had yet to escape this larger one of stone. And, as things stood, he wondered if that was even possible at this point. The gates were most certainly closed, either because of the time at night, or because the whole city had to know about his escape by now, if the shrill whistling of signals in the distance was any judge for it.

He couldn't scale the wall, not hurt like this. The wound was small, but something so strenuous could tear it to dangerous, and deadly levels. No, when he left this place, it would be through the gates, or some other path... Some.... other... path? He pondered at that thought; there had to be some other exit from the city, outside of just the gates. There was always a hidden way, if you had eyes to find it. Pushing off the wall, leaving a bloody handprint, Azher steeled his resolve. He would find his way out of the city, of that he was supremely confident. Now to the task of finding that way.

Re: Imprisoned (Will Solo)

The gates were closing around him, but he would not be caged. The sound of alarms brought agitated and frightened life back to the city. Windows were closed and barred, doors shut tightly and locked, and families huddled beside their hearths, the light of the flames dancing in their eyes, their crackling whispering of the terrors out in the night. To them, he was naught but a monster, an enemy who had invaded their most sacred land, and threatened to bring ruin upon them. And so they feared, while their soldiers and guards flooded the street, warding away the darkness with their spears and torches. If only they could know his name, his life, his trials. But they would not listen, deafened by the thunderclap of their prejudice, their preconceived notions. So the Tokay was alone in the night, with no friends, no allies, only himself.

He could not afford to be found. His strength was slowly being sapped away by the loss of his blood, a cold chill starting at his fingertips and toes, now spreading to his arms and legs. But he had to press on, when it seemed his entire body rebelled against him, wanting only to lay upon the ground and find restful peace. But even in his fallen state, Azher's pride and raw survival instinct pressed him on. His eyes searched around, frantic, yet alert. He could not go over the walls, nor could he pass through them. Looking at his reflection in a pool of water, surrounded by a low marble wall, Azher knew there must be a way. Cupping his hands and drinking of the fountain, he thought upon this. Water. Running water. Just as his village had irrigated their land, allowing water to flow through it, so too must the Hylians, though perhaps for a different purpose. Searching, he found that which he looked for; a simple circle upon the ground, made of heavy stone.

Fingers grabbing around the edges, he slowly lifted it, blood seeping from his side as he strained himself. Gasping with pain, and from the strain of it, he managed to slide the door to the side, revealing an entrance to the aqueducts below the city. The smell was foul, but his senses were dulled, growing ever worse as hot fluid trickled down his side, down his leg. Grabbing at the ledges that jutted from the wall of the entrance down, he slowly lowered himself into the hole. Once again grabbing the heavy stone, he pulled it into its rightful place, beady eyes disappearing into the darkness, the last sliver of moonlight severed. He was in darkness.

His heart felt as if it were running a million paces a second, charging to finish some obscene marathon, with survival at the end. His limbs were beginning to grow cold, the loss of his blood beginning to take its full toll on him. It was as if his veins were filled with molten lave, slowly seeping from him, hardening his body to stone as it cooled. Holding his chest, his grip slipping a millimeter with each ragged breath, Azher pressed on. Between heaving sighs, he muttered quietly, though the words were indistinguishable. To whom he spoke, Azher was not sure, but it was a litany, a mantra that put one leg in front of the other. Left. His claws scratched against the moist cobblestone of the sewer, tearing away overgrown mold and algae. Right. This time his step was shorter than the last, and even in his dying state, Azher knew that it would not be long before he would be lucky to move another inch.

He shook his head, blood pounding between his ears. No. He could not think that way. This would not be his grave. His ancestors would not allow that, for his line and his life could not end here. No, he could not allow it. Death here meant an end to everything for which he had long fought for; his freedom died here, with him, if he passed. He fell to a knee, nauseated by the vigorous movement of his head. Staring at the ground, phantoms dancing in his vision, Azher steeled his resolve. Despite the blood oozing from his side, the labored panting escaping his lips, his leaden extremities, he decided to press on. Even if he had to crawl, he would escape this place, and he would live.

Still, the Tokay was no fool. He knew when not to press his luck; and he had certainly been lucky to have made it this far. Falling upon his rear and gently as possible, he nevertheless began to cough. Thankfully, no blood bubbled up from his throat. It didn't seem as if any of his organs had been damage by the stroke, as he had initially thought. The blade had still cut through a significant amount of tissue, though, and the blood loss was significant, and certainly enough to cause his death if he was not careful. Leaning back against the wall, taking respite in its coolness, he closed his eyes. Just a few minutes, then. he thought wearily. It wasn't long, however, before he began to hear footsteps that were clearly approaching him.

Cracking an eye open, he saw the light of a flame flickering from whence he had come. He stifled a cough as it threatened to reveal him, painfully clutching at his side. Thinking about it logically, he supposed it made sense that they'd check the sewers. Nevertheless, the presence of someone else infuriated him. But above that, it frightened him. In his current state, he could not fight, nor could he flee. So he sat there, waiting and watching, whispering a prayer to the goddesses.

Breathing slowly, watching as the Hylian approached him, Azher couldn't help but imagine that this was death coming for him,that his time was up. No, Death would be far more frightening. He decided, waiting as the man came closer, apparently not afraid of him. Well, at least not nearly as much as those living on the surface. Azher would have normally blamed that on the fact that this man was a guard, a trained warrior, but that didn't seem to be it. More than anything, it seemed curious, like he had never seen one of Azher's kind, nor a Lizalfos. "Am Azher..." He said weakly, now opening both eyes. His mouth creaked open, then shut, as he breathily inhaled air through his mouth.

"No am Lizalfos. Azher am Tokay, from far place in water." He continued once he had caught his breath, able to speak once more. "But Hylian think am Lizalfos, so put self in metal cage. But Azher escape. Fight, run, bleed. Now am here, talking to curious man." He raised an eyebrow, his mouth wrapping oddly around the foreign words, his words following a strange rhythm. "Azher not return to metal cage. Cannot. Will not. Have enough of cages for one life. Will fight if man take Azher back to cage." He said with greater passion, raising an arm with all his might, shaking it heartily in the air. With that, it seemed as if he were done talking to the man, as he started crawling further down the corridor, looking for an escape. Let him try and stop me. I would rather die here, then be placed in another cage. He growled deeply, looking back at the man, warning him to keep away, pathetic as he may seem.

Azher paused, one arm lifted into the air, his body frozen in thought. Who is this man? Why is he not afraid of me? Moreover, it seems he does not wish me harm, nor my death. Why is he so different from the rest of them? Azher was, of course, naturally suspicious. He could not bring himself to trust this man so readily, but whomever he was, he was right; if he truly was intent upon capturing Azher, then it didn't matter what the Tokay did. Sooner or later, he would fall unconscious if he kept pressing himself onward. He hung his head in defeat. But hope still remained while he yet lived.

Pulling himself up against the wall again, turning himself to look at the Hylian, he began to speak in his awkward tongue yet again. "Self am ask man's name." He said curtly, pointing at the Hylian guard. To be without name was to be without identity; to be without identity was to be an animal. This guard was not an animal like the others, leering, jeering, pointing, all without knowing that which they hated. And so Azher asked his name, because whether he was a friend or enemy, he nevertheless had the Tokay's respect. "Azher will go with man."

Azher kept silent, doing as he was told. It wasn't that he didn't have anything to say himself, but more that he no longer had the energy to do so. Grabbing hold of the torch, shaking his head once again to banish the creeping shadows from his periphery, he looked up at the incredibly tall Hylian. He was only just noticing it now, but the Hylian was huge; from his position on the floor, he had not seemed nearly so tall. But now that he was being carried around, he truly understood the height of this man. Glad we didn't have to fight. He thought to himself, and he would have smiled, but it seemed his face no longer wanted to listen to him.

Continuing to think, while the traipsed around the sewers, Azher couldn't help but wonder why this Hylian had ignored Azher's request for a name. It didn't matter much at the moment, as his own life was after all more important. He found it hard to be offended by this, anyways, despite the gravity of knowing another's name in his culture. This giant was already doing far more than any from this city had done for the Tokay, much less his village. Azher would simply ask him again, perhaps when he was feeling better. It didn't seem as if they'd be down in the sewers long, anyways, as it seemed his transporter knew exactly where they were going.

Azher had to turn his head away from his host, as tears began to well up in his eyes. Beds; yes, they had them. But for the Tokay, that usually meant a simple mat, stuffed with straw. These were reserved for honored members of the village. The rest of the people slept upon the floor within their huts, curled up within the soft dirt. But for Azher, and the other slaves, they slept where they could. Many were forced to sleep out in the open, weathering the elements, and because of this, most stayed within the village, where at least they could sleep within the shadow of the buildings. But Azher and his family had not been so fortunate. They had lived outside the bounds of the village, only entering to fulfill the obligations to their owners. So, as the Hylian set Azher down upon the bed, to him, it felt as if he were being treated as a king, or a great hero. "Yes... Tokay people have beds. Beds not so nice." He said quietly, motioning towards the comfortable mattress and sheets upon which he lay.

It took a few moments to compose himself completely again, so that he could once again face his savior. "Before man leave, Azher am ask his name. Man save self, yet still Azher not know his name. In my village, people without name am animals, as name is identity and proof of existence. Self not think man is animal, for Azher am have great debt to him." Azher said to the giant, once again turning his body back to facing him. He held far too much respect for this man to not know his name; the other Hylians, who had accused him without knowing him, could remain nameless. But this one was different, and so the Tokay was compelled to know his name.

The door shut with a resounding knock, leaving Azher alone in a home not his, with only the weak light of a flickering candle for company. Boko. That was his name. ".... Thank you.... Boko...." He said to the emptiness left by the man who had just left. He could not recall the last time he thanked someone. But that was neither here nor there. What mattered was that this Boko had saved him, without judging him, without complaint. He was glad that the man's words were simple, for at least they seemed relatively able to understand each other. Well, Azher understood Boko anyways. He wasn't so sure if the reverse were true, though Boko replied well enough.

As he lay there upon the bed, he mildly regretted getting his blood upon this man's sheets. The cloth would have to be washed, and perhaps even the mattress. He would wash them with his own hands, for he would not leave a debt unpaid. Even if the debt is my life. Azher wished to leave this city and be free, yet he truly did owe this man. It was no mere debt, either; in his own culture, he would have been bound to this man as tightly as a servant to his master. This terrified him, the manacle of slavery rattling its chains eerily. Yet amidst his trepidation, he couldn't help but think that perhaps Boko was different. Rather, Azher already knew that he was different, and it was only a matter of to what degree.

Azher shook his head from side to side. There was only the one wound, and it wouldn't have been such a dire one, save for the size of it. While the blade had sheared through scale and muscle, it had avoided his vital organs, leaving only a deep, seeping wound on his side. As the doctor prodded at him, the lizard wondered if this man would help him. He was a doctor, so Azher desperately hoped he knew the difference between a Lizalfos and a Tokay, or was at the very least aware that Azher was not a Lizalfos. He would have asked the medicine man, had he been capable. As it were, he was finding it difficult to talk, much less think. Still, he had to force out some kind of response. "Is only wound..." Azher managed to rasp out, glad that it was from loss of blood and dehydration, rather than blood filling his lungs.

"... Ask-weer... am... help Azher?" He said breathily, he said, gripping the Hylian's hand as tightly as he could muster, although what strength he had left was paltry. He looked within the doctor's eyes, hoping to find a man who took his job seriously. Azher did not expect compassion, or kindness, only that the man's sense of duty was strong enough to overcome whatever prejudices he might. Well, he hoped that would be the case, anyways. After all, a doctor was duty bound to try to save the lives of the infirm and dying. Right?