Dream Versus Reality

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Mood Music
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There were only two left in that damned place, a land of pain, attempts at broken will. It was dark and decrepit. None but the sound of metal and shallow breathing, breathing that grew fainter with each passing day. Or what seemed of days. There purposely was no rhyme or reason to the actions of the Altalar. Every move, every planned thought, was an attempt to break the two. The two who had refused to be even slightly broken. The two who instead of being forced into submission, rather devolve into that akin of a rabid canine.

The Nelfin seemed confused of their burly brethren, their dedication and stubbornness not like any they had seen before. They weren't sure how to counter it in the slightest. And the two Avanthar, captured, betrayed, abandoned, knew full well of this. They cherished in their foe's confusion. In the idea that by becoming worse than savages, they possibly even instilled a twitch of fright into the Altalar. Of course the fear was translated into violence. Wounds scored the flesh, once tanned skin now stained a dirtied crimson, a splotchy black and blue.

The Avanthar refused to break. They fought tooth and nail. A plan was developed. And so, when two of their broken kin arrived with chains in hand, the siblings finally struck back. They retaliated. Ruthlessly they fought without rhyme, but with abundance reason. The will to survive. They slaughtered both of their kin, bound the bodies in their place with the chain, and robbed the corpses of their axes. Under the cover of night they escaped, and under the cover of night, the two were solidified as savages. Their thirst for blood only grew the closer they carved their way to freedom. Dozens felt the bite of an axe to their throat. The pair couldn't be defeated, champions of their class, escaping onto a ship bound to a land of hopeful freedom...

Jinuep raised her head from where it had been previously lowered. She was seated at the bar in the Slum's tavern, her head cocked slightly. Her bright blue gaze was fixated so that she could just barely catch her target in her peripherals, playing the part of a drunkard while she stalked her prey. She'd been handed a contract for one of her own. An Avanthar. He was of strongman build with a pair of axes, one at each hip. He wore only a pair of dark pants and thick leather boots, a loose shirt hiding chiseled muscle that spanned across his entire upper body. His torso and arms were coated in intricate black ink, a reminder to the culture he'd left behind for the city of Regalia. He wore his dark brunette hair long and dreaded, half pulled back messily in a ponytail, with further small braids scattered about the lower loose locks.

The woman needn't wait long for her mission to soon begin, as shortly thereafter the man stood and bid his party farewell. She finished her drink, giving the man a head start, before standing to follow after him. She trailed a ways back in order to stay hidden from sight. She knew his path well. She'd been watching him for days now to learn his everyday pattern.

She waited for him to turn out of sight once more before taking an alternate route planned to intersect with his own. She beat him to the section where their paths would cross, leaning against the wall of a nearby building, counting down from five, four, three...

Two...

One hand lowered to her hip, unlooping an axe yet holding it there as if it were still in it's holster. The man turned around the corner and into view just as expected, right on time, not a second soon or late. It was now as he drew closer that the woman noticed each black tattoo outlined the millions of scars covering his body. As if purposely done so. Jinuep waited a moment longer before pushing off from the wall and striding opposite to him, making to walk past, flinging her axe for his head once she were only a couple lengths from the man.

To her surprise, however. The man caught hold of her axe, brandishing the new weapon triumphantly in hand. Her expression blanked in shock, reaching for her second axe. He wouldn't let her do so with such ease. The Avanthar lunged forward, the same height as she, though slightly greater in strength. She was slammed easily into the wall with the faint bite of metal into her shoulder. Jin's fingers curled around the hilt of her second axe, slipping it slyly from it's loop as her head raised to meet the man's husky blue eyes, of which were slightly red and irritated. And then she froze.

The man who stared back at her was all too familiar. Each scar, now outlined in black, was all too familiar to her. She knew the Avanthar before her. His scars, his height, his build. One never forgot the face of their only living kin. What stared back at her was her own blood. "Jendir," she whispered in shock, lips parting gradually in awe.

The man didn't respond to her, keeping her pinned harshly up against the wall. However, the longer the pair remained with gazes locked with the other's, the further a look of panic began to creep into his expression. That expression was one of complete agony to the Avanthar. It was one who, on a man she knew like the back of her hand, made him appear so harsh and foreign to her. It was absolute torture.

"Te quiero hermana, pero me he ido. Despierta."

Before she could respond to him, a hefty fist connected with the side of her head, and the woman's form fell limp as her mind was dragged off to the dark abyss of unconsciousness. When she awoke, she was back in her own bed, a slight throbbing to her head... Though she ignored it and moved to push herself upright. A sharp hiss ensued, turning her gaze to the source of her pain. A wounded shoulder. In fact...

... It strangely looked as though an axe had been stuck into her shoulder.
@DrDrago

Spoiler: Tf did Jendir say?

I love you, sister, but I am gone. Wake up.