<div class="floatright">(http://i827.photobucket.com/albums/zz197/giantmutantcrab/Rhinotaur_zps2u7musbi.png)</div><strong>Name:</strong>R'Van (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1714677)<br/><strong>Time of day:</strong>Mid morning<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Wall of the castle barracks<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Neyly, Zkulu, Garret, Seven-Berries, Alyssa, OPEN to all<br/><strong>Notes:</strong>Passive Perception: 15 (or +5)<br/><hr/><br/>Civilized folk were so strange.<br/><br/>This morning was to be celebrated… by an execution. One had entered the stone castle to kill the king. That was what was told to people. They had captured the individual, and he would be put to death. It was to be a public thing, so that all could see the might of the royal ruler. The gladiators, those battle-hardened performers who fought and bled on the sandy floor of the arena, were present.<br/><br/>That morning, the rhino had looked up first at the bright sun and the clear sky. It invigorated him, to know that he needed but to reach up and he could be free, if only for a moment. There were no chains in the clouds. As his gaze returned to the world around him, he was reminded of who he was, and where he was.<br/><br/>His name was R’Van, and he was a slave.<br/><br/>Oh, the fat, rich, lazy, silk-dressed city folk called him a gladiator. They had explained that it was a privilege for him to be so. To live in a pen, with others that were chosen for combat rather than menial labor. That if he pleased the crowds, he would be given so much more. R’Van was simple, not stupid. Even if the bars were made of solid gold, it was still a cage. The arena was where he could wield power, and he did. Those who called themselves civilized lusted for combat. He knew this. They would watch powerful creatures crash against one another for their selfish pleasures. They chanted for blood and death, well-protected behind their barriers and well seated upon their cushioned chairs. None of them would last a day out in the wilds. None of them would last an instant on the sands of the arena floor. But they lived out these fantasies of violence through others, and thought themselves cultured and superior. They chanted for blood and death.<br/><br/>By refusing them those deaths they called out for so loudly, R’Van found grim satisfaction. He showed them that they were weak, impotent. If they wanted to taste blood so badly, they need only step into the arena and pick up a weapon. He was good at riling up the crowd. He was easy to hate; a monstrous man-thing, immense in size and strength, wielding a shield-shattering maul, a savage who could not be tamed. He taunted them back, helping up the fallen warrior-slaves instead of finishing them off. R’Van fought because he had to; he killed when he needed to… And he did not kill in the arena. Punishments only deepened his resolve, fed his animosity towards the civilized folk who claimed to own him. Threats of whippings and beatings were meaningless; they would not break his body, for they needed him to perform for the masses.<br/><br/>This morning was different, however. He had been given instructions, as all of the other warrior-slaves, to walk to the wall of the castle barracks. There, they would witness the decapitation of the one who had been declared guilty of attempting to kill the king. The execution was already all set up; the man was kneeling with his head upon the block. Members of the ruling family were there, all prepared to show the power they wielded by choosing this man to die before them. Had he been an intelligent individual, R’Van would have asked himself why this assassin would have slaughtered slaves, on his way to the king. Guards would have been wounded, perhaps… But there would be no gain from killing slaves. And no member of the royal family had even a hair out of place. An intelligent individual would suggest, or at least think that all this seemed far too well-packaged, too neatly boxed-up. Almost like a charade...<br/><br/>But such thoughts never crossed his mind.<br/><br/>R’Van slowly looked over to his side, to observe the beautiful Neyly. She… Stirred something in the savage. There was a simplicity to her life, an acceptance of her fate that wracked his mind. He was born free, and would live free. Yet… She seemed content with her situation. She fought, she trained, she mated… A few nights ago, during the witching hour, R’Van was stirred from his sleep with muffled noises and grunts from the area besides his. Neyly, his pen neighbor, was there, with a guard of the night watch. R’Van had identified the male by his tabard and uniform. He was bare from the waist down, taking her from behind. The surprise of the moment had caused the barbarian to observe… And the amazonian mare, on her hands and knees, caught his gaze.<br/><br/>And kept it.<br/><br/>For an unknown amount of time, they stared at each other, eye to eye, while she was being taken by another. R’Van was not known for social graces of ANY kind, but even he could comprehend that there was a message there. Perhaps she did not care for soft, civilized men who thought they could tame this wild female horse. Perhaps she had given him an invitation that night, silent and direct, to take that fool’s place and claim her instead.<br/><br/>So R’Van watched her for a while. For someone of his mass and size, the slightest movement caught the attention of those around him. It was like a small, horned grey mountain suddenly stirring to life. He observed her from head to hooves, and back again. He decided, there and then, that they would train together. And that if she would have him… He would have her.<br/><br/>Then something else caught his attention.<br/><br/>Though unintelligent, R’Van was perceptive. His golden eyes had caught some movement in the crowd. Where most of the people there were ordinary citizens, dressed in ordinary clothing and standing still while looking forward to the execution block… Some things stood out. There was the little zebra over there, the musician... he played the flute. R’Van had heard him play music before; the little zebra was talented. Upon a roof was a short, tightly-packaged beast, a feline female, eating fruit and observing the situation. Her own attentions were brought down, towards the masses. The rhino followed her gaze… And viewed another situation.<br/><br/>Walking through the crowd was a lone beast, a gorgeous female antelope... who was being shadowed by several armed and uniformed guards. R’Van’s eyes narrowed at that. He knew why he had been dragged in chains and slavery. He had brained a slave-owner and freed those he claimed possession of. Those guards and that human female that followed the antelope girl… They had the same greedy, covetous look that the slave owner had. Danger and urgency tingled at the periphery of his senses. Nostrils flared, and his mood darkened.<br/><br/>Massive hands moved to press to the surface of the parapet he was standing behind. He leaned forward, slightly, looking at the area directly below him. Awnings and roofs would make good handles for him to climb down. Like all the other gladiators, he was unarmed at the moment. It did not matter. He watched, intently, at the unfolding scene. If those guards and that barely-dressed female were to simply snatch the beast-girl up and claim her as property… They would be in for a surprise.<br/><br/>A rude, painful surprise.