Weird felt sick. This had to be done. These souls had not willingly been toyed with. Some might say they were the weaker ones. Others would argue that fact; He was one of them. Chosing, of sound mind, to end your life is not something anyone, ever, should have to do, and is not a decision to make lightly. 'I'm at least giving them the choice' he thought to himself. Why didn't it make him feel any better about it.
Taking down names, places, names of families and last wishes and respects, he came at last to the elf with the sewn together lips and nose.
Fumbling for fresh paper (the madman had writing materials in copious supply.), he provided the mute victim with a means to have his heart known, and asked his questions.
His name was elomi. He was from the retreat of valithomithi, far to the south of here. He had come to see why these lands had started to whisper of elves violating the compact with nature, and to commune with the spirits of this land to learn of their plight. He was a druid, and had sworn only to take life in self defense. The madman of the tower siezed him, and led him to this place, where he first tried to use honeyed words, and grand formalities to disuade him to join in its cause, and when he tried to call the clean spirits of nature to render him aid, the abomination turned on him, forced his vile potions and fragances down his mouth and nose, and then sewed them shut. Under his thrall, he had done things that he wrote "I dare not put on paper."
"I don't see any other things wrong with your body.." weird tendered. "Why do you seek death?"
"I cannot live knowing what I have done. The taste of suffering clings in my throat, and the vile perfume of mangled, living flesh mingled with sweet wholesome gifts from the forest taints the very air I breathe." He wrote.
"What did you do, to feel you deserve death?" Weird asked. This man would have scars, but he could be at least partially restored with simple surgery! This man could go home!
"I worked in the master's vile kitchens." He wrote. "I forced the same vile filth I was forced to drink down the necks of the master's chosen cattle, and daily, at the morning bell, I prepaired his feasts from their living flesh, and with joy in my heart, I sent it down the chutes."
"Why do you remember all this, when the most I could get from the others were vaugue recallections of a name?"
"The master willed it to be so." His writing was scratchy now. Fevered.
"The pain I endured under his spell was to my soul. I died many times, fighting his will. And every time, he pulled me back. I do not belong here."
Weird went white. The identity of the madman had to be known! It had to be know quickly! His necromancy had crossed the final taboo of the art. He had transgressed on the spirit! The consequences of that fact put the whole world at risk, unless he was sealed in the non-space between this world and the next!
"Tell me his name!" Weird demanded. "Tell me quickly!"
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Topic: If Bay Forum were a Mountain Hall, continued... FULL DISCLOSURE (Read 265887 times)