The room smelled like cinnamon spice, a samovar with boiling hot tea sat nearby on a small table constructed out of an old tree stump. The white woman sat perched on her bed in front of me. White as snow and with a smallish beak, the dove gracefully fluttered her wings in invitation. Wrapped in beads of numerous colours and numerous cultures, her eyes were alluring to me. She was nude, besides the decorative ornaments. A playful chirp radiated toward me and my heart fluttered once more. I did not even notice that Pavel slipped off my ruck-sack while I was not looking. This was not at all how I imagined my journey into the Reavers' brotherhood would start. "You look tired, a bit wary even." My hostess stated, but the way she said it implied it was a compliment of some sort. "You look like someone... very deserving of some foreign pleasures." I could not place her accent, but I wanted to believe she was from the far south east of the Empire.

"You uhh... look very soft and white." As a poet, I certainly had a way with words. She flicked her beak in laughter at me, what a tease. The gentle Dove-Gryphon left her perch on the beside and sprawled out, showing me just what her curved body had to offer. It was so silent everywhere around me, as I was deafened by the pounding in my chest as if it were a tight-spread leather drum. A screeching ghost could have confronted me and I would have been blissfully unaware of it. "You must be a madam of some sort, with those fancy beads and all..." My eyes trailed off to the rest of the room. It was humid, a bit damp even. The walls were covered in rugs to keep the cold out and the heat in. The samovar still buzzed with hot tea. I realized now the strong scent of cinnamon was to mask the stench of frequent and furious sex.

"Enjoy my wares, do you? Fortunately, those are not the things for sale. Those are my heirlooms, belonging to my people, my culture and just to simply put it - they belong to me." She had a way with words, like how a snake could delicately wrap itself around a sharp, double-sided blade without hurting itself. She slithered her way past my neutral, cold expression and forced a smirk out of me. I was young and a virgin. My finger had not known the lap of any woman, merely the trigger wells of crossbows, muskets and a variety of firearms. My father being a weaponsmith had done little for my confidence in anything besides operating a weapon of all sorts. "You seem cute, a little flustered... So overly polite. I know Thule can be an enthralling place dear, but you simply have to relax and let your beak dip into the waters slowly. It is best - so that the tides of degeneracy in this city do not pull you in."

Somehow, I was closer to her and the bed than I was the door. The room's walls became farther and farther as the center piece of my focus only became closer. I had walked up to her, my tongue flicking about in my mouth in anxiety. The tip of said tongue prodded my cheeks as my brain prodded for thoughts to process and turn into words. All like a well oiled machine. "It is nice to meet you, really... Perhaps, perhaps I am a bit too polite. I was raised well, to respect any and all women. Whether they be of common birth, nobility or..."

"Even a street wench?" She teased, her sudden intrusion caused me to blink hard and let my eyes re-emerge from the cover of my lids with a subtle shake. We maintained eye contact for a moment, I believe she had been drawn in by the amber colour of my irises. "Even a whore? A back-alley sally? You truly are a gentle bird, young feather. I bet you have never even plucked or ploughed a fair lady such as myself." She sat up in the bed, her wings close to her body to emphasis her curves. Her talons traced the outline of her mouth before they departed from her beak. She was so inviting and comforting. Motherly, almost. I wanted to embrace her, but I could not help but to think I was being told not to by some inherit self-discipline. Deep down, there was some good morale instilled in me since youth that said it was morally wrong to take advantage of an already disadvantaged woman.

"Surely, this is not the occupation you wanted for yourself. Not the one your ancestors fought for. I am sorry, but you are far to beautiful to be spreading your legs and hind quarters for young men as a young woman yourself... Us Gryphons, we are prideful, greedy - I know this to all be true. But even as a simpleton, from a simple place, I cannot in me find something withstanding the abuse I'd put myself through if I slept with you." It was a bit wordy, but I think I got my point across. She shrugged and rolled over, her wings fluttering again and letting loose a feather or two. The whore stretched out and her tail slapped me across the beak. The teasing little brat, she acted like a spoiled house cat. "I'm sorry, but I cannot stress this enough. I would be lying if I said I didn't want to, but I can't force myself to break away from my own moral bindings."

The Madam of the room sat up sharply, I thought that for a second she was about to pluck out one of my eyes with mouth or shove a claw into my nostril. "You're cute. And smart. And handsome, maybe even a bit charming and enduring, lovely - possibly." Her head titled back and like the rest of her body, slumped back down on her expensive bed. It was probably the only thing her whore-master dared to gift her with, besides the unpleasant company of peasant fellows wanting to stick their dick into any orifice. "What if I told you, that I - Lady Key, had laid with both farmers and peasants, kings and nobles, mayors and counts?"

My attention snapped into another direction entirely. "Key. Lady Key. Is that short for something?" I asked, intrigued.

Lady Key replied with a prominent pout. "I am trying to tell you, if you think I am not worth your cock, you are entirely wrong. I am not worth anything, beauty alone does not define me because perhaps - I'm a little black inside, a sharp contrast to my whiteness. So don't see me as this pure, virgin, alright? Relax and take me for what I am." The gentle Dove begged, her taloned grasp tugged at my clothes and my heart strings. "And yes, by the way. Key is short for Katelyn. At least, that is what the big boy at the entrance likes to call me."

"This is hardly a job," I mentioned. "This is not something you just come in and do. There has to be a reason for it."

Her talons playfully swirled at the feather-tuft on my chest. Her alluring, black-abyss like eyes distracted me from the fact she had slowly undressed my torso. "Not everything has a reason. I'm just a maiden, a maiden for pleasure. A beacon of delight. I cannot go out and live with the nobles, nor can I even eat with the poor in public. But they all come to me, in private. I'm the name that whispers to them in the wind and the face they see in their sleep. The person loving husbands dream about as they lay beside their wife. Is that not a sort of fame that is unachievable otherwise? I am a fairy tale here, a legend almost. And it is beautiful. A little tale. A little wisp of light. A candle that is snuffed out but always remembered for a pleasant scent." I didn't want to break it to her that she smelled less like lilacs and gooseberries and more like sex, perfume and an undercooked cinnamon cookie.

"Life is valuable. It should be preserved and cherished. No one truly wants to be a fading memory." I spoke aloud. Perhaps it was my own musings being given present though, rather than a direct answer to her. She had taken my hand and glided it against the tuft of feathers on her chest, soon bringing it up to her neck. Lady Key wrapped my fingers with her own around her neck. Instinctively, a gave her a light choke which set her face ablaze with a smile and playful chirp. With a quick swipe of her hand, she knocked my own away and she fell back to the bed, turning her back to me. Her wondrous wing spawn shot open and flapped happily, the carpets and drapes in the room fluttered with the momentum of the wind.

"Come on, little bird. I will give you a memory to preserve and cherish!" Lady Key was happy to give this to me, so much that she bent herself over and spread herself wide for my manhood. After a moment of silence, the cold wind hit her warm privates as I pushed my through doorway. And I do not mean that in a sexual metaphor. I was out of the room before she could scream, "You haven't even paid me for the conversation, you little worm!" My sack was gone, my belongings gone as well as my entire world essentially. Pavel had taken them after the little distraction and I was there, looking like a fool with no way to pay for a somewhat pleasant conversation with a whore. I ran through the corridor and wished there was enough room to spread my wings.

I nearly flew straight out of the whore house entrance into the alleyway, belly close to the scummy floor until it reached the dirt outside. I pranced and looked around, eager for some blood, if it was necessary. Besides me money, that sack also had a substantial amount of gunpowder and unused casings for being loaded later. Both were worth enough to be sold and pay for a trip back, if I had to depart from the Reaver facility. Otherwise, both of those abundant items would have served me well in my service under the Brother Reavers. I saw nothing but red, but soon my vision focused when it caught ahold of Pavel - who was patiently leaned just outside of the brothel, underneath the window where his 'mutual friend' waved him in. "Pavel, you bastard dog!" I screeched and flew up to gain some momentum. I was going to come down hard on him, yet I was surprised he did not fly up in defense or in an act of fleeing.

"Wish I could fly, my dear d'Artagnan, but this dear bird is clipped." Pavel stepped away from the building and leaned downward, showing off his small wingspand. Indeed, the feathers were clipped. This was a punishment Thule passed down on criminals, on thieves and pick pockets. He may have been a swindler, but he was not someone worth harming or killing. I landed down hard, shooting dirt into the air and scattering about with another swipe of my feathers. I opened my maw, wanting to spit venomous words and insults upon the thief. I could see my belongings being placed to remain at his idle feet. "Come on and get them, just remember. Your actions have consequences and the minute you even step towards me, everything you think you know is going to change." The con let out a laugh. "So for the sake of us all, please step forward. Let's make history."

When I reached out to give him just a scratch across the beak, something had hit me from the side and knocked me down hard. Before I could rise, I tasted another strike to my face. Already, within seconds, I could feel the swelling that would inevitably form on my face. My wings fluttered as I tried to catch my breath from a blow to my stomach, one that had nearly lifted me off the ground and made me airbourne. It was what I had to do, fly up and away from my attacker. I tried to do just that, but someone had a firm grasp on my tail. They pulled me down and continued to deliver pain to my face and extremities. Every time I raised limb in my defense, they would pass it and hit my torso hard - occasionally chopping at my throat with punches or kicks. Blood dripped from my beak, I could feel a small crack for just near the tip. My vision was blurry and all of a sudden, I didn't feel like I had much more of a fight in me.

So there I laid, on my back like a whimpering mutt. My limbs came close to my body, it had started to get dark outside - I could feel the chill overtake my temperature. I thought I was fortunate enough to allow my heated blood to keep me warm, but it ceased to do so. I was less angry than I was relieved, I was less vengeful than I was thankful of the new found mercy my attacker had found for me. But he was not attacking me for any reason, he was attacking me in defense of Pavel. "Sorry, d'Artagnan. Not every hero's story is rags to riches, sometimes you have to spend sometimes in rags before you can even call yourself a beggar." The con taunted me further. I raised my head to see not just him, but another - moving through my stuff with their greedy talons. "No bother looking, you'll probably never see him again anyways."

From the more worn and faded colours of the uniform, I could tell this was an actual Reaver. Or at least, one worth his steel. I was assaulted by this crow, this tar-black bastard with sharp blue eyes and the legs of a panther. "You did well, Pavel. The skills we taught did not need to go far, you caught a vulnerable one pretty early on." The Reaver spoke to his new comrade. I had been fooled, or rather - I was a fool all around. But for what purpose, were the heroes of the Brother Reavers, recruiting their younger members to mug individuals such as myself? The pieces came together, but never to a full picture as to what was going on. I knew that if I moved to get up, I would be brought to the subject of conversation once more. I was correct. "Just lay down, peasant. We have not enough room in our order for the likes of you anyways. Skilled rifleman or not, if you can let yourself get so easily conned, I don't think you could stand a chance against any actual threat beyond city walls." The words he spoke stung at me like arrows.

If I was one thing, I was stubborn. I confronted this hero and his the young recruit Pavel, I got back up to my feet and wiped the blood that dripped from my mouth like a school yard bully-victim. "I do not understand, you convinced me to leave my home, leave the fortunate life I did have - to come here just to be mugged? If the guild is truly so lowly, why bother bringing foreigners here in the first place? Why not prey on the poor locals?" My heart pumped true to the virtues I have instilled in myself, my fading and blurry sight only showed these men for the shadows they truly were. Shadows - pale comparisons to the bright tapestries I have seen in my youth, showing these orange and black clad warriors fight courageously for ideals greater than themselves. "Or what? Did you go out and plunder these people enough already, no matter they shirk away from the visage of your cloaks..."

I blinked, for a moment - the crow had gone. When I blinked again in disbelief, he was in front of me. His stature was so imposing, that I felt my joints give in at that very moment. The power he could gain just from being toe-to-toe to a peasant like me, his evil confidence nearly dropped me down to my stomach in submission like a whore. "I am Daken - Daken the Bastard. If you want to talk shit like the little guttersnipe you are, I suggest you at least do it with a weapon in hand." The crow swatted my face, his talons dug deep into my cheek and drew blood from the feathers he flustered. Deep down, I fought every urge to throw my own claws at his face. He could see this in my posture that I had subconsciously set myself up for such an action. "Go ahead, swipe my face and see what happens. Draw my blood. Show me you are worthy for me to sheath a sword in you. Or rather - you are a fan boy who'd rather I sheath my cock in you." Daken teased, he wanted to see how far he could push me, to see if I had any discipline at all. He raised a wing, to reveal his straight sword - strapped firmly to his side.

I did not. I thought I did, but I lacked the resolve to resist my own attempt to slash his face. Talons drawn, I aimed for his eyes, but he caught my wrist with his hand. Lunging forward, my balance was easily kicked out from beneath me. Daken had my arm in a grip that only continued to strengthen as he rubbed my face in the dirt. "You are cheeky one, I'll give you that - Karl. If you really want to show your worth to us, come pleading at our door - like a whore begging for a fuck." He released me and I brought my hand back to my chest. The sky was almost as dark as him now. Daken walked over me, taking my bag from the dirt that would soon turn to mud - as a rain drop pelted me in a bruised eye of mine. I huffed, even though there was hardly an exertion from me. I felt weak, but as I watched Pavel and Daken leave with my belongings, I knew the truth.

I was being tested, just as Pavel was. Speaking of which, I noticed the peculiar way his tail was shaved on one side. He was a very recent free-bird, having just gotten out of containment within the dreaded Gulag merely days ago. I knew enough about laws and customs in Thule to tell that was the mark of a rapist, a convicted rapist. Swallowing my pride, the rain that had started gently dripping down my face had now soaked me - I made my way back toward the castle. Maybe I should have been relieved, my test was not necessarily over and my gear was probably my admission fee. Mind over matter. I had to overcome this obstacle. After all, if someone who was completely scum like Pavel could get a second chance and proudly be a part of such an organization - what was truly stopping me? A busted face and the rain? No demon in Tartarus could hold me back now.

Through the pain, I pushed through - in pursuit of my one true calling. To be a Brother Reaver.

Author's Note

Had a bit of fun writing this, I have discovered that I greatly love writing more dialogue driven stories.

As always, sorry for any blaring errors!