Moxie lvl 5 bio

Moxie's Lvl 5 Bio

Illithyan Fleetfoot's wife gave birth to a beautiful sylvan girl with a head full of black and blond-streaked hair, a merging of their own. Life was good, until one day the bandit king came back to the encampment to find Lythica's head in the soup pot, and his beloved 3yr old daughter crying in a hound kennel, their hounds slaughtered around the campsite. It was a foreshadowing moment, a warning by the gods that went overlooked and would never be recalled or known for what it was.

Enraged, the bandit king grew his forces, blinded by hate and the lust for revenge. His daughter grew in the woods, a wild thing of hunt and nature, ever fascinated and fleet of foot: Illyanarra Fleetfoot--- a name long forgotten, for a young elf who has long-since 'died'…

She was the apple of her father's eye, the princess of the woods, the bandit-child who happily gave orders with wooden sword and stood upon the shoulders of burly men and thick women who served under rule of her father. Might made right, and they had the might to take what they felt was rightfully theirs, surviving off thievery and unity. However one day the bandit king grew far too smug, far too over-confident, blind to the trap before him and the consequences of his actions. His group flooded a barbarian encampment, the same who was responsible for his wife's death. They took the women and slaughtered the children, setting fire to the encampment. It was overkill.. certainly for a conflict started lifetimes ago by Lythica and a noble woman with a barbarian leader lover.

Things had gone too far. And so the barbarian king, Grillfik Ashlander took to the seas, took to the mountains, and took to war. The bandit king lost his subjects.. lost his lands.. and lost himself. He went into fleeing, into hiding, him and his daughter, who was oblivious to it all but used to the life of hiding and travel. When she turned six, the barbarians had finally caught up with Illithyan. Death was too good for him, and so right before his eyes were gouged out and thumbs removed, the last visage he saw, was Grillfik hefting a kicking, crying Illyanarra over his shoulder and walking off with her, the girl screaming for her daddy, hand outstretched as if to somehow close that growing distance. Illithyan was left to fade into history, to fade into the forest, alone, blind and crippled.

Illyanarra's tale however was not over. It had only just begun. The girl was to be a slave of servitude, a little elf to wait on the barbarian family for generations, a trophy and something to savor when older. However, the girl had been raised with a rather opposite mentality. She knew to fight for what she wanted and not take demands from anyone. She wasn't a snob, but she was no pushover. Moxie. It was what the girl had, and eventually, what the barbarians decided to name her, with her new life among them. She did her chores and duties, but did them with attitude. In Grillfik's elder years, upstarts were emerging and coin was growing hard to earn for the barbarians as a great illness took out the sheep of their island home, limiting their wares of mutton and wool. Gambling grew ever popular. It was during this time that a Magi named Horus was trying to take advantage, and kept seeking to purchase the now adult Moxie. Turned down again and again, it was only during a gamble, a game of wager and cards, when Grillfik finally accepted her as something he would be willing to part with. Grillfik lost the bet. Moxie was forced to go home with Horus that very night.

Moxie was not for him though. Horus presented the sylvan woman to a rather bitter, scar-covered moriel male named Andre, his lover. "Aww.. you bought me a bitch…"

Those words were all too.. too true..

Elves lived for a long time, and in the darkness of towers and caverns, there was no way to tell time beyond the dwindling light and wax of a candle or lantern, the aging of food ignored by slave or left to sit and rot instead of being given or offered to the starving. It was cruelty. Moxie's wrists and ankles were weighted down by heavy chains, a thick pole upon her back, connected to heavy weight that forced her head down to always see the floor and feet. She could only eat if she begged for it, and even then, only if Andre felt like feeding her-- and what he felt like feeding her. Serving someone, she could handle, as a proper slave.. being used, also not an issue for the slave.. but Moxie was tormented for the sake of entertainment and just Andre's ability to do so. Andre was a Bitch Breaker, and the group went beyond any laws or regulations in secrecy to see 'how far' they could take things for various slaves. Race and gender didn't matter, but were often a catalyst for cruelty. Bitches went beyond slaves, beyond servitude. They were less than slaves. Even dogs, pets.. were given purpose and rewarded, cared for and taken on as responsibility. The sad fact is.. most Bitches.. never made it out alive. The lucky ones, got sold off to be pets for those into puppy-play before any true Bitch Breaking began. The term dog was not as in dog, the animal. The Bitches did walk on all fours, were forced to bark and behave like dogs in puppy play, kept on leashes and eat from the floor. That was all part of the humiliation.. But the truth is, Bitches were less than dogs. Dogs had worth, value, a place in society, even a purpose. Bitches were lucky to be allowed the privilege of existing.

The woman was broken down beyond puppy-slave over the years.. life-times.. She watched as human servants tended her Master, then their children, and children after that. Life times of family servitude barely gleamed the surface of Moxie's own. In the Nethergloom, time had a very different meaning and value. It was one year that set others apart, that after a particularly bad Blood Swan Moon, that things changed a bit.

Moxie had up until then been subject to the darkness, to the solitude. She could only speak when spoken to, and even then.. only certain words were allowed. Loopholes were made for her sanity, such as with Moxie talking to her own reflection when her Master was gone. And it was during that Blood Swan Moon when Andre actually hurt his lover, and tore the Magi's wing nearly clean off. He then turned his sights on Moxie, marching to his Bitch Kennel and finding the elf there. Havoc was wreaked upon her, cartilage of ears broken, mutilation.. but the changing part is that a day later, after Andre finally woke up, he had found the kennel door ripped open, Moxie's weights and chains removed and broken, the path to the surface clear….. …and Moxie was still at his side, huddled on the floor, like a good dog.

From that point on, Andre took Moxie with him places, the woman always on all fours, always leashed and always nude. Dogs did not wear clothes. So she had none. Dogs did not speak, so she could only say "Bark" or "Woof". Touching upon her sylvan blood and the bandit she had been brought into the world to be, Andre took to governing Moxie in the ways of fetch-puppy. At shops, she'd swipe small things he made certain comments to when distracting the clerks. He taught her to pounce rich folk, so he could come pull her off for the guise of pilfering pockets and pouches. In the times they were caught or seemingly so, Andre placed blame on Moxie, even as far as turning her in himself. After all, there was no mark of claim on her and never once did she dare speak out. Of course most thought her daft or crazy, and when she was made a public spectacle at times, Andre was one to take first row's center seat. Moxie would do anything for him, take any punishment. She was a "good dog" after all.

As time went on, Andre grew bored of her loyalty. He was always pushing her limits, always pushing his control and training. Sure, she won the contests for Andre as a Bitch for the Bitch Breakers, but he grew bored of always winning. He grew bored of her sacrifice, even when the fetching cost Moxie digit and limb, which was later restored by magic. Andre always kept Moxie pristine and free of blemish or scar. But that was growing boring too…

His commands for Moxie became less and less about acquiring things, and more about putting her into dangerous situations just to observe what she would do and how she would survive. It was entertaining for a while. He took sick joy in seeing how she dealt with his rules, how she dealt with trying to do human tasks while being under the limitations of the training of the Bitch Breakers. But this too, grew boring. Andre was bored of life, bored of her. It had grown worse with the absence of his lover, Horus, who often took long trips to Oceana. Horus was the only thing that kept Moxie alive and sane at times, as he let her sleep at the foot of their bed, encouraged playful tricks and antics, and treated her like a dog and less like the expendable Bitch Andre was seeing her as.

Growing bored of life and love, Andre took a trip towards Oceana himself, to meet with Horus for their last time before embracing his finality. He toyed with Moxie during that time, having her pilfer things from others on board. It came as a shock to him when others decided to pilfer the ship, another boat pulling up alongside with pirate banner flown. Cannons blasted and thieves upon ropes swung downward. It was during this time that a dramatic shift happened. Now Moxie had saved Andre before, taking hits and guarding him, saving his life and having others spare him by standing over his downed form and pity and mercy given. However, this was the first time Andre ever took a hit for Moxie. A bolt of fire flung, Andre pushed the woman out of harm's way, his side and back taking burning impact. Fight ensued, and as such occurred, Andre gave Moxie an order to fetch the spyglass from the pirate in the other ship's crow's nest. Not to his surprise, Moxie took off to do so. Andre thus joined the others in the battle for the ship's safety, fighting pirates and growing flame alike.

As a blast of bone shards was send upon the pirate ship's sales, Andre watched on as the mast began to snap and break from the impact and tangle of battered sail. Moxie was high up, sure enough fighting the look out navigator for the spyglass. As the mast broke and fell, Moxie kicked off of the pirate, propelling herself into the air, spyglass in mouth. She hit the side of the travel ship, nailing into the rail, spyglass flying forth from her mouth to roll across the deck as she scrambled. Fingers held tight to a wooden rail rung, the only thing she could grasp in hopes of pulling herself up from the outside of the ship. The pirate ship wove without control, slamming into the travel ship. Andre was flung up to the rail, face to face with Moxie. He pulled himself up with a grunt, dark gaze staring down at the sylvan as she clutched on for dear life, the spyglass rolling against his booted feet. And so Moxie reached up a hand, fingers outstretched towards her beloved Master in desperation.

"Dogs… do not have hands… …Bad dog."

It was the last thing he said to her, kneeling and picking up the spyglass, only to snap his boot forth and slam into her fingers clutching the rail rung. It broke, as did a few fingers, and with a loud yelped scream, Moxie fell into the crashing waters of the night.



Sometime later she began to squint her eyes open, feeling the warmth of a nearby hearth, sylvan ears picking up the sounds of a panpipe. The world was blurred, but she felt warm. When she finally came to, she found her hands bandaged and wrapped, secured by cloth as magic was knitting her bones and tissue. Finding herself -in- a bed, Moxie quickly jerked up and went to the floor, falling face-first down as she scrambled to get into proper dog position. The man who found her, a youthful thing of 20, was a human named Gerald Fink. Perplexed, he soon came to realize from her barking and behavior that the nude woman he found was most.. eccentric. Her name was first thought to be her mistress' until Gerald pieced it together that the leather collar worn saying "Moxie" was actually the elf's name. Over time, he gained her trust, feeding her, going with her dog-training antics, and even finding fun with having her fetch sticks and bones, as Horus once had.

"Speak," Gerald spoke softly, trying to work with Moxie one day.
"Woof"
"No, no.. Moxie.. speak.."
"B-bark?.."
"I didn't say to speak woof nor bark.. Speak.. say your name.."
"..Uh.. …Uhrmm.. ..er…. M… Mm…. M-moxie?…" The elf flinched, expecting a hit, as she hadn't 'spoken' in so long…
"Good girl," Gerald smiled brightly, reaching out and caressing her head, stroking cheeks and hair, "Very good girl.."

Like so it continued, Gerald working with Moxie, restoring some of her freedom with bending her rules and training. Ten years later, Moxie was talking. Well.. talking as best as she could, as she had been conditioned against certain words, forbidden, trained to think a certain way. When Gerald turned 40yrs old and lost his wife, he left home and took up his herbs and potions, off on the road on a wagon with Moxie at his side. Unknowing of her past but knowing of her devotion to her Master, he decided to help her find him. They traveled the lands, Gerald selling concoctions he made. As he found Moxie had a special talent for taking things, he made their stops last for short times only, so he could work with her on when to steal and when not to. He was working with her on being a proper fetch puppy, especially for when he taught her how to target thieves in his audience, and pilfer their pockets free of the coin stolen from his customers. Two wrongs made a right.

Gerald Fink went on to share his last name with Moxie, introducing her to others as his loyal girl, Moxie Fink. In times when she got into trouble or lost, people know Gerald's wagon and knew who to return her to or inform. When he was 70yrs old, they set out to Nanthalion together. He knew of the laws of the Empire and that town was perfect to protect Moxie, as he had come to realize over the years that her "Master" was nothing more but a cruel man. Instead of looking for him, his goal became to keep Moxie as far from him as he could. The laws of the Empire would protect Moxie, for even if she ended up in a collar one day, it would be against the law to break her down back to the state he had found her in. So with such laws, he assumed there was no way any Bitch Breakers would take up residence in such an area where the Imperial Slave Authority could put an end to them and their practices. They arrived and Gerald was looking into renting a house for them both as well as collaring Moxie as his to protect her. Unfortunately, Gerald was old, an elderly human of 72yrs old. He lost control of his wagon on the winter road and it fell into a ditch. Moxie was flung from it, but managed to track the trail and find Gerald.

"Moxie… My dear Moxie.. You are such a wonderful, good girl.. Never forget that.. No, no.. don't go anywhere dear.. I am old.. I have lived many wonderful years with you at my side since the passing of my wife.. I will see her again, in my dreams of forever.. I'm so.. tired.. You're such a good girl Moxie.. You deserve so much more than I could give you, and for that, I am sorry… Remember your lessons.. Live your life.. and.. and be the best dog, be the best Moxie, be the best you that you can be.."

He knew he was dying, and he didn't want to die alone. His human body was too old to make revival worthwhile, and the cost for such was too high. Gerald Fink died leaning up against a tree, Moxie curled to him in the cold.

She dug a hole with hands and feet, powering through the ice and frozen ground on pure adrenaline. For days she worked, until she could bury Gerald there, the remnants of the broken wagon and scarred tree from the crash marking his grave. She placed a large branch as a further marker and Moxie undid her old ratty brown leather collar and used it to attach a piece of banner from the wagon that had his name on it.

Since then, Moxie has been living up to his words, trying to be the best dog, the best her, the best Moxie she could possibly be while adhering to her 'rules' from her conditioning. All the while, she searches and waits for her Master Andre.. like a good dog..