((I originally wanted to make this post far more graphic, but I realised that broke the forum rules. But enjoy! Also, sorry for being away so long. I hope there are still people who will read this....))
Hmm, how are our energy levels looking?
You check your energy. Unsurprisingly, it seems you have been out cold long enough for your energy to have regenerated back to full and your fatigue to have disappeared. You are still very uncomfortable in your current situation though, as you have no weapons and your are still chained up.
You suddenly get kicked, hard, in the stomach, which breaks your concentration. You gasp and look up angrily at one of the guards, who currently towers over you. You cannot really retaliate as you are on your knees, and your hands are chained. You make do with an angry glare.
The guard shows no acknowledgment of you and just walks back to his position.
Call them over "HEY RUNTS!! Tell your boss I wanna give him a piece of my mind. An go get me some food you useless toadies, can't believe you'd treat your lady friend this way."
Let's play up a tough some bitch of a battle elf.
Edit: say it with like we own the place. I know that's kinda hard to write out but yeah I'm just trying to make sure our character has the chance to feed her ego a bit before the battle of the wills against the General.
Angry, you decide to try and antagonise the guards, or lure out the General, who will most likely be gloating in true Atlovan fashion.
You laugh, which does get a reaction out of the guards. One of uncertainty. With a cocky look in your eye and a sneer in your voice, you taunt them relentlessly. You throw every profanity, every forbidden curse, every cruel insult you can think of at them. You manage to make one of the guards, the youngest by the looks of him, start crying (such is the power of words) and the other two look shocked, most likely at the spectacle of a usually stoic, calculating and/or demure high elf cursing worse that a thousand sailors.
You laugh even more and then with your mots commanding voice, you shout. "Hey you dirty demon-fucking sons of seed-guzzling whores! Tell your leader I would ever so much like to give him a piece of my mind. And go get me some food and water, you useless sheep-fucking dundards! How dare you treat a woman like this!"
The two older guards stay where they are, however the younger one scuttles off like a bat out of hell. He comes back a few minutes later with some cheese, bread, salted meat and water. He brings it over to you and starts feeding you small bits of bread with the cheese and meat on it. You eat it hungrily, realizing you cannot remember the last time you actually ate anything.
Once you had finished, the young guard scuttles away again.
Using your powerful hearing, you track the young guard as he runs back to your cell, most likely going so fast as to not be caught away from his stations by the Atlovan General. Then you hear the heavy footsteps of the man himself, coming towards your cells. A sense of dread comes over you.
The young guard barrels through the door and takes his position. A few minutes later, the Atlovan walks in followed by the two female elf mages.
"Leave Us" He orders the guards, who quickly comply and move into the hallway. They clearly do not enjoy the Generals company.
The two elves take up positions behind you as the General stands in front of you. He pulls a lever you hadn't noticed before, which pulls you up by the arms so that you are standing, your arms held above your head. He leans in close
"Ala'tirn Vor'lenshai, will you accept the offer I give? Or will I have to break you down, like I did to your brethren here" he says, motioning to the two mages. You notice, for the first time, that they both have looks of complete adoration, submission and love on their faces when looking at the General. You barely stop yourself from shuddering.
Mustering your courage, you spit in his face.
His face morphs into an expression of rage. He grabs you by the neck, his huge hand easily enclosing your dainty elven neck. You start struggling for breath, but his grip is like iron.
"I am disappointed. I thought you were more intelligent than your overly proud brethren, however it seems I was wrong. I will at least give you the pleasure of knowing your torturers name. I am Adrael Gertaw, leader of this city, and commander of its armies. I would tell you to get comfortable, but this will be in no way pleasant."
He squeezes your neck, focusing on the pressure points. The excruciating pain permeates your entire body, but your head specifically feels as though it is being squeezed between the jaws of a vice. Your screams are stifled by his hand and come out as barely audible squeaks and wheezes.
The two mages have also started work on torture spells, ones which you have never seen before but are obviously for inflicting as much pain as possible. They smile their creepy smiles at you as they finish. Instead of just hurling them at you, they walk forward, ever so slowly.
Adreal removes his hand, allowing you air.
The first mage grasps you by the chin, and plants a kiss on your lips. Surprised, you involuntarily open your mouth. Your action allowed the spell she had cast entry into your body. Once the kiss had started, you found you couldnt pull away. You remember a spell such as this one fro your childhood. The feared Kiss of Yharlta, Goddess of Pain.
Suspiciously though, there was no pain.....yet.
Pulling away, the first mage steps back, the same small smile on her face. Wiping her mouth with her sleeve, she trots like a puppy back to her master, taking a place at his feet, just as the second mage repeats what the first had done and , once completed, takes her seat at the feet of the giant Atlovan. All three are smiling as the mages snap their fingers in unison.
Your eyes widen as the surge of pain hits you like a tsunami. You barely have time to scream as the magic rips and tears at every cell in your body, tortures every organ independently and spears you thousands of times per minute with small lances of orange-red light.
You feel warm liquid run freely from your eyes, nose, ears and mouth. Your throat becomes hoarse from the screaming and your tears mix with the blood to form a torrent that flows and falls onto your formerly impeccable underclothes. Your bowels release, just adding to the already growing mess. Adding even more onto your suffering, the General starts using tools you did not notice being brought to start torturing you in the more traditional, physical way.
Over the day, on top of the spells, you suffered broken fingers and toes, shattered bones, beatings and a myriad of other horrendous actions were perpetrated on you, with barely a whisper from the Atlovan of his playthings the whole time.
Finally, the spell is called off, and the Atlovan puts away his tools. Smiling he asks the same question again: "Will you join me?"
Despite not being able to see out of your left eye - the spell had rendered it useless, and being covered in your own blood and dangling by your one good arm as you cannot stand after so many of your bones were broken or shattered, you manage to defiantly look him in the eyes and spit on his face again.
With a roar or anger, he punches you once in the stomach and storms off, leaving you to dangle by your arm for the night.
~~~
You wake up the next day, fully healed and sleeping soundly on the floor, with the large, full meal next to your head, which the young guard would feed you. As yesterday, the General and his puppets came, tortured and left, leaving you a hanging wreck hopelessly close to death, even for an elf.
Every day the same routine would happen. Every morning you would wake healed and rearing to go, with a full meal waiting for you that the guard would give you, every day you would be tortured. At first, you came dangerously close to breaking unde rhte onslaught, so close to surrendering your freedom and will to the demon-damned General.
However, as the weeks turned to months, you became more immune to his methods, which led him to introducing even harsher tortures, an even more dangerous routine. This wore away at the mental defenses you had created, over the next few weeks, your defenses started failing until they failed completely.
Using a massive burst of willpower, you managed to fight off the remnants of his onslaught, but it left you tired, exhausted even.
You dreaded the next day, a day you were certain would mean the end of your life as you know it, and over 600 years of independence.
~~~
During what you assume to be the night, you come too, bleary eyed and tired. You are again healed, both your legs having grown back after being brutally 'amputated' by the General amongst other major achievements and the rest of your body functioning as it always has, although there is still massive amounts of superfluous damage to your body.
You realise that you are not alone in the room. A tall man, easily as tall as the Atlovan General himself, is standing silhouetted against the open door, his face covered by a large hood, which in the inadequate torch light means you cannot get a clear idea of what he looks like.
He strides over to you and immediate around to your rear where you cannot see him. He reaches towards your manacles, a large key in his hand. He inserts the key into the restraints, removing them with a small clanging click. He catches the manacles as they start falling, and you, as you also start falling.
He quietly lowers the manacles to the ground, and hoists you up into a princess carry position as he starts moving towards the door. He points a finger, its end glowing, at your forehead.
"Is that a....."
"SLEEP LIKE THE DEAD"You almost completely black out before you can finish your sentence. You feel your body go limp, and entirely cold. Foam gathers at your mouth and starts dripping onto the floor as this mysterious man carries you through the Atlovans fortress. Through your half open eyes, you see guards and servants jump out of the way. You see the looks of pity on their faces as they look at you.
Obviously, they think you passed away due to the tortures of their cruel master. Of course, the still not completely healed wounds he had inflicted on you adds to the argument and whilst they are not fatal or inhibiting, they are still rather substantial.
The mystery man carries you out of the citadel and towards a cart piled high with what looks like victims of the plaza conflict, due to the multiple different injuries the corpses have sustained. He walks to the back end of the cart and unceremoniously throws you into the cart. You land awkwardly as your body contorts in the air before landing. The bit you really hate is how your face ended up jammed up into the crotch of a decomposing dead woman who had been stripped after death. Not a pleasant experience.
You do not know how far you traveled, but when the cart finally stopped, it was high noon and the high sun was beating down on a line of mass graves in what looked to be abandoned farmland. The same mysterious man, after bringing his cart to a stop and securing the horse so that it couldn't bolt, appears behind you. He pulls you gently off of the carriage and lays you on the ground.
"RISE, DEAD ONE" He commands, his finger glowing again as it had done that morning.
You realise feeling is returning to your body. After a quarter of an hour or so, you regained full control of your body.
The Mysterious man is just sat on the tail gate of his cart, watching you, seemingly amused as you jump around, run, walk and stretch. Especially when you stretch.
~~~
What do you do now?
((Sorry if this is a bit disjointed and rambling. I have to get back into the swing of writing and I am still a bit scatterbrained after recent events.))
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Topic: (SG) The World of Ricovero - Ghost in the Rain (Read 16284 times)