Colonel Charles approached Crooks and looked pleased. The sun was near setting and the fire would be quite glorious.
"General," The Colonel said. "Everything is ready for the fire. Everything is as you ordered. The people are in place and Bartholomew will never susp--"
Crooks cut him off, "He has eyes everywhere Charles. Keep your mouth silent unless you know you are alone and then keep it even quieter, for when you don't suspect you are being listened to." Charles went silent and Crooks sighed, "So begins the purge. Let us hope they will forgive us."
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Monday, February 9, 2009
Abatha Tristy Lar
The door to a damp, dark, dungeon cell flew open. Torch light gave light to three hooded priestesses clad in black robes followed by an elderly man adorned in a fine scarlet vestment. Two of the priestesses dragged a blindfolded and bleeding Tristy into the room; hanging her arms around their neck. They released her near lifeless body onto the cold center of the floor and walked out. The two remaining occupants stood observing the ancient hieroglyphics that scarred the young ladies back and torso. The elderly man kneeled down next to Tristy, running his gloved hand over her now shorned head. He removed one of his gloves and reached down to her ear.
Tristy felt a firm, withered Hands loosen her moldy blindfold. The room remained dark to her though, as she kept her eyes squeezed firmly shut. Pain seared through her nonresponsive frame. Her skin seemed to pulse and retire as every heartbeat drained more blood through dozens of small wounds scattered about her body. She fought with extreme lightheadedness that, if anything, helped to reduce the pains she felt about her exterior. Her pale lips mumbled nonsense as she started to shiver from exposure to the freezing, wet, stone floor. Her mind far exceeded all her exterior infirmities. Screams, her own and the ghosts of Clare’s, splintered her thoughts. Every emotional response was amplified tenfold as her brain processed thousands of horrific memories, many of which were hers and many of which were not. Tristy squirmed onto her stomach. She placed a hand over her face and rested her head’s weight against the ground.
Her shivering came to an abrupt halt as a heavy red mantle was tossed over her back. Two conversing voices, like ghosts, fazed in and out of Tristy’s conscious.
“…don’t make me remind… she is ready for… don’t worry… she reacted exceptionally well to the torture… aside from her random scars… some very interesting markings on her… only Darjima Lyn examined her… gave her far too much hawk’s eye… incisions need cleaning… I’ll see what I can do…”
Tristy flinched as the same withered hands wrapped around her stomach and pulled her up into a seated position. The red mantle was then wrapped and tucked around her miserable frame. An elderly man’s voice began to speak softly to her. The elderly man’s hands gently arched her head back and held a leather flask to her mouth. Fluid rushed down her throat in small enough increments that she did not choke. As the drink began to sooth her physical pains and mental storm, the man’s voice became more and more familiar. The old man gave a command to the other priestess to retrieve bandages. She walked out of the cell and clicked up an old, stone staircase. The man pulled Tristy’s right leg out from under the red mantle and poured the remaining liquid in the flask on to a long scrape that covered the front of her leg. It stung terribly, but nothing compared to what she had just gone through.
The old man rambled to himself. “D#$n girls, aren’t we cutting it a little close. Retrieve Abatha Lar, remap her mind, and bring peace to madness. A lot of good it will do us if the second key to unlocking the gate loses all of her blood, or dies of infection, or dies from Hawk’s Eye poisoning. Wouldn’t that be ironic… We retrieve the ancient gate key without losing a single man and our map’s legend dies of Hawk’s Eye poisoning. There was a time when we didn’t need Hawk’s Eye to convert new members. We actually had creativity back in those days, and I might add that we weren’t nearly as sloppy in our tortures.”
Tristy’s eyes opened slowly. The surroundings blurred at first, but slowly grew in clarity. Soon everything was in focus, however, something odd happened. Rather than focusing on items normally, colors became super saturated, shadows increased dramatically in contrast. When she focused on an object, everything else seemed to disappear and all that remained was the object in super clarity.
The old man saw her eyes buzzing from one thing to the next in a frenzied blur. He put his glove over her face and continued to dab her scraped knee. The priestess could be heard coming down the old stairs. She entered the room holding a tray covered in ratty rags and makeshift bandages. She held a pitcher of alcohol in her free hand. She set the supplies down on the ground next to Tristy.
She then began conversing with the old man again, mentioning him by name. “If you will excuse me, Master Haley, but…”
Haley… that name clicked into place in Tristy’s stressed mind. She began struggling to remove the glove from her face. With what remaining will power she had left, she raised her arms out from under the red mantle and tugged on the hand that attached itself to the glove. She received a moment’s glimpse of a very familiar face.
In extreme desperation, she called out to the old man, in a shocking explosion of volume, “SAMUEL PLEASE HELP ME!!!… SAMUEL PLEASE!!!… PLEASE, ITS TRISTY!!!...” She went into a fit on the floor. She struggled to be free from the grasp of the very man she called to. The priestess helped hold Tristy in place. Tristy’s tone changed to more of a whimper, “SAMUEL please… Samuel please help me… they killed Clare… They killed Clare and they’ll kill me… they’ll kill me, Sam… I can’t go there yet Sam. I’m not ready.” Tristy broke into tears.
The old man held Tristy by the face, forcing her eyes to meet his. “Tristy…Tristy, look into my eyes. You are safe now. We rescued you, Tristy. We rescued you from your father. He killed Clare, Tristy. Your father killed Clare, just like he killed your mother. He won’t kill you though, Tristy. We saved you. We saved you.”
(Nothing like a bit o' good ol' fashion brainwashing to help traumify your life. Look up more info on Samuel Haley in Sir Lar's Bio.)
Tristy felt a firm, withered Hands loosen her moldy blindfold. The room remained dark to her though, as she kept her eyes squeezed firmly shut. Pain seared through her nonresponsive frame. Her skin seemed to pulse and retire as every heartbeat drained more blood through dozens of small wounds scattered about her body. She fought with extreme lightheadedness that, if anything, helped to reduce the pains she felt about her exterior. Her pale lips mumbled nonsense as she started to shiver from exposure to the freezing, wet, stone floor. Her mind far exceeded all her exterior infirmities. Screams, her own and the ghosts of Clare’s, splintered her thoughts. Every emotional response was amplified tenfold as her brain processed thousands of horrific memories, many of which were hers and many of which were not. Tristy squirmed onto her stomach. She placed a hand over her face and rested her head’s weight against the ground.
Her shivering came to an abrupt halt as a heavy red mantle was tossed over her back. Two conversing voices, like ghosts, fazed in and out of Tristy’s conscious.
“…don’t make me remind… she is ready for… don’t worry… she reacted exceptionally well to the torture… aside from her random scars… some very interesting markings on her… only Darjima Lyn examined her… gave her far too much hawk’s eye… incisions need cleaning… I’ll see what I can do…”
Tristy flinched as the same withered hands wrapped around her stomach and pulled her up into a seated position. The red mantle was then wrapped and tucked around her miserable frame. An elderly man’s voice began to speak softly to her. The elderly man’s hands gently arched her head back and held a leather flask to her mouth. Fluid rushed down her throat in small enough increments that she did not choke. As the drink began to sooth her physical pains and mental storm, the man’s voice became more and more familiar. The old man gave a command to the other priestess to retrieve bandages. She walked out of the cell and clicked up an old, stone staircase. The man pulled Tristy’s right leg out from under the red mantle and poured the remaining liquid in the flask on to a long scrape that covered the front of her leg. It stung terribly, but nothing compared to what she had just gone through.
The old man rambled to himself. “D#$n girls, aren’t we cutting it a little close. Retrieve Abatha Lar, remap her mind, and bring peace to madness. A lot of good it will do us if the second key to unlocking the gate loses all of her blood, or dies of infection, or dies from Hawk’s Eye poisoning. Wouldn’t that be ironic… We retrieve the ancient gate key without losing a single man and our map’s legend dies of Hawk’s Eye poisoning. There was a time when we didn’t need Hawk’s Eye to convert new members. We actually had creativity back in those days, and I might add that we weren’t nearly as sloppy in our tortures.”
Tristy’s eyes opened slowly. The surroundings blurred at first, but slowly grew in clarity. Soon everything was in focus, however, something odd happened. Rather than focusing on items normally, colors became super saturated, shadows increased dramatically in contrast. When she focused on an object, everything else seemed to disappear and all that remained was the object in super clarity.
The old man saw her eyes buzzing from one thing to the next in a frenzied blur. He put his glove over her face and continued to dab her scraped knee. The priestess could be heard coming down the old stairs. She entered the room holding a tray covered in ratty rags and makeshift bandages. She held a pitcher of alcohol in her free hand. She set the supplies down on the ground next to Tristy.
She then began conversing with the old man again, mentioning him by name. “If you will excuse me, Master Haley, but…”
Haley… that name clicked into place in Tristy’s stressed mind. She began struggling to remove the glove from her face. With what remaining will power she had left, she raised her arms out from under the red mantle and tugged on the hand that attached itself to the glove. She received a moment’s glimpse of a very familiar face.
In extreme desperation, she called out to the old man, in a shocking explosion of volume, “SAMUEL PLEASE HELP ME!!!… SAMUEL PLEASE!!!… PLEASE, ITS TRISTY!!!...” She went into a fit on the floor. She struggled to be free from the grasp of the very man she called to. The priestess helped hold Tristy in place. Tristy’s tone changed to more of a whimper, “SAMUEL please… Samuel please help me… they killed Clare… They killed Clare and they’ll kill me… they’ll kill me, Sam… I can’t go there yet Sam. I’m not ready.” Tristy broke into tears.
The old man held Tristy by the face, forcing her eyes to meet his. “Tristy…Tristy, look into my eyes. You are safe now. We rescued you, Tristy. We rescued you from your father. He killed Clare, Tristy. Your father killed Clare, just like he killed your mother. He won’t kill you though, Tristy. We saved you. We saved you.”
(Nothing like a bit o' good ol' fashion brainwashing to help traumify your life. Look up more info on Samuel Haley in Sir Lar's Bio.)
William
(Back to posting first person)
I had seen her fight and frankly I'd been somewhat impressed. A small amount of training and she'd be a fit warrior.
"I agree," I picked up my staff as I talked. "We need to go speak with Master Moomow, I'm sure he knows more about these people and could help us immensely, possibly even tell us where they would be taking her."
After orienting myself I quickly discovered that Cordell had been taking us on a path towards the monastery all along and we got there before the sun set.
"Please come in and feel free to eat with us," I said. I paused for a moment and continued, "Normally women aren't allowed on the grounds but, friends," I paused. "Or people we hope are friends, are allowed to enter regardless of that rule. So please, come in."
I beckoned to her again as I opened the gate and motioned for her to walk in first. Master Moomow would certainly be surprised about this, perhaps pleasantly.
(Be sure to visit the sister blog for a description of the monastery.)
I had seen her fight and frankly I'd been somewhat impressed. A small amount of training and she'd be a fit warrior.
"I agree," I picked up my staff as I talked. "We need to go speak with Master Moomow, I'm sure he knows more about these people and could help us immensely, possibly even tell us where they would be taking her."
After orienting myself I quickly discovered that Cordell had been taking us on a path towards the monastery all along and we got there before the sun set.
"Please come in and feel free to eat with us," I said. I paused for a moment and continued, "Normally women aren't allowed on the grounds but, friends," I paused. "Or people we hope are friends, are allowed to enter regardless of that rule. So please, come in."
I beckoned to her again as I opened the gate and motioned for her to walk in first. Master Moomow would certainly be surprised about this, perhaps pleasantly.
(Be sure to visit the sister blog for a description of the monastery.)
Bonita
Taking Will's hand only long enough to stand up, "show off." I blurted."thanks for saving my life." I mumbled quietly.
"I couldn't let them do that to you, it's indecent." there was still some friction between us, but I could see that there was actually a softer side to him that I hadn't expected.
"come on, we've got to go after Cordell. They're bound to do the horrible things to her that they wanted to do to me. Maybe worse."
"I couldn't let them do that to you, it's indecent." there was still some friction between us, but I could see that there was actually a softer side to him that I hadn't expected.
"come on, we've got to go after Cordell. They're bound to do the horrible things to her that they wanted to do to me. Maybe worse."
William
Will watched the man talk and he laughed quietly as Bonita wailed upon him. These men weren't dressed in the same clothes the soldiers had and, if Will hadn't known better, would have looked like normal people. He saw the sword across her throat and instantly started plotting his move. He was glad he brought his staff with him.
The more he thought the more he wasn't entirely sure he would save her, she had been nothing but cruel to him. Everything she had offered him had been spitefully and with nothing but contempt. He heard the leader's last sentence and he growled menacingly. There was nothing he found more distasteful than what the leader implied.
He burst out of the bushes that had been concealing him and swung his staff into the first soldier's head. He fell to the ground lifeless. As they turned to face him Will jumped forward into the air and snap kicked the next closest soldier in the neck causing him to fly onto his back and struggle for breath.
"Stop," The leader had turned back. Everyone stopped but was ready to jump into motion, "You must be the powerful monk I'd heard about. Shilon, he's yours."
"With pleasure," The one who had been holding the sword at Bonita's neck moved away from her and moved quickly to face Will. He was a large, tall man, easily a head taller than Will, but his movements were quick and graceful.
Will easily blocked the first attack and Shilon began forcing Will back with a barrage of attacks barely giving Will enough time to think about what to do.
"Give up boy," Shilon whispered. "Join us in the order of peace and madness and we will let you and your friends live."
The sword and staff clanged together and the two sat for a moment in a deadlock that was slowly going in Shilon's favor. Suddenly Shilon tipped his sword and it quickly flew down towards his hands and he was forced to drop the staff and back flip away from his opponent. The slice that was meant for his legs instead cut a good portion of his hair giving him a much shorter and uneven haircut. Will felt his hair and grimaced as the man had no intention of returning his weapon.
"You should have taken my offer while it was still good," He said as he charged forward and continued attacking.
Will had no choice but to dodge as this man was far superior to the others he had encountered. This continued for a few minutes while Bonita had evidently been fighting on her own as Will managed to sneak a glance over she had taken several of them out but these weren't average soldiers and she had succumbed again and was being held on the ground with the leader holding the tip of a sword at her throat.
"You are just as persistent to survive as you were as a child," Shilon grinned devilishly. "I had a great deal of fun with you William Thrisfalen."
Will ignored the part about his name but he surged with rage and dodge around him and picked up his staff. Shilon swung as Will was rising, but Will's staff met the sword with such force that the sword shattered and sent shards flying all around. None hit Will but one struck Shilon in his right hand.
Shilon, seeing his disadvantage, fled into the woods. Will was about to chase when he heard behind him.
"Drop your staff and turn around or the girl dies," It was the leader of the group.
Will turned and dropped his staff at his feet, he cautiously moved one foot and positioned the staff between them so the enemy could not see. Bonita was on the ground, her head pointed towards him and her feet towards the leader. Will tried to take a step forward but the leader pressed the sword harder into her neck.
"Don't move," He laughed. "I'm surprised you were able to best Shilon, he is one of our best soldiers."
The remaining three soldiers, besides the leader, surrounded Will on all sides but the one facing the leader.
"What is the order of peace and madness?" Will asked.
"Do you really think I'd tell you something you should already know?" The leader snorted. "Your master is evidently sheltering you like he always has."
"You don't have anything to say?" Will paused but the man didn't speak. "Then I guess it's my move."
Will jumped forward onto the air and grabbed the staff with his feet as he did so. He swung his legs up as fast as he could and released the staff at just the right moment. It flew perfectly through the air and connected to the leader's chest with such force that it shattered his ribs and snet him flying backwards. He landed on his back with a thud and the staff landed a few feet away from Bonita.
The three soldiers began to tremble in fear. Will turned his head to them and spoke, "Go tell your masters of the order of peace and madness that William Thrisfalen is coming for them."
Will heard the leader laugh and he moved closer and the leader said, "We were only a distraction to get the key. You are too late William, the end draws near."
He stopped breathing and stopped moving right after he finished speaking. Will grabbed him and was about to ask him a question but knew it would be pointless. He walked over to Bonita and offered her a hand.
(End part 2 :) Hope you enjoyed it. Sorry Deanna I wasn't sure exactly how Bonita would fight. Her fighting style I mean. So that's why I did not elaborate on that.)
The more he thought the more he wasn't entirely sure he would save her, she had been nothing but cruel to him. Everything she had offered him had been spitefully and with nothing but contempt. He heard the leader's last sentence and he growled menacingly. There was nothing he found more distasteful than what the leader implied.
He burst out of the bushes that had been concealing him and swung his staff into the first soldier's head. He fell to the ground lifeless. As they turned to face him Will jumped forward into the air and snap kicked the next closest soldier in the neck causing him to fly onto his back and struggle for breath.
"Stop," The leader had turned back. Everyone stopped but was ready to jump into motion, "You must be the powerful monk I'd heard about. Shilon, he's yours."
"With pleasure," The one who had been holding the sword at Bonita's neck moved away from her and moved quickly to face Will. He was a large, tall man, easily a head taller than Will, but his movements were quick and graceful.
Will easily blocked the first attack and Shilon began forcing Will back with a barrage of attacks barely giving Will enough time to think about what to do.
"Give up boy," Shilon whispered. "Join us in the order of peace and madness and we will let you and your friends live."
The sword and staff clanged together and the two sat for a moment in a deadlock that was slowly going in Shilon's favor. Suddenly Shilon tipped his sword and it quickly flew down towards his hands and he was forced to drop the staff and back flip away from his opponent. The slice that was meant for his legs instead cut a good portion of his hair giving him a much shorter and uneven haircut. Will felt his hair and grimaced as the man had no intention of returning his weapon.
"You should have taken my offer while it was still good," He said as he charged forward and continued attacking.
Will had no choice but to dodge as this man was far superior to the others he had encountered. This continued for a few minutes while Bonita had evidently been fighting on her own as Will managed to sneak a glance over she had taken several of them out but these weren't average soldiers and she had succumbed again and was being held on the ground with the leader holding the tip of a sword at her throat.
"You are just as persistent to survive as you were as a child," Shilon grinned devilishly. "I had a great deal of fun with you William Thrisfalen."
Will ignored the part about his name but he surged with rage and dodge around him and picked up his staff. Shilon swung as Will was rising, but Will's staff met the sword with such force that the sword shattered and sent shards flying all around. None hit Will but one struck Shilon in his right hand.
Shilon, seeing his disadvantage, fled into the woods. Will was about to chase when he heard behind him.
"Drop your staff and turn around or the girl dies," It was the leader of the group.
Will turned and dropped his staff at his feet, he cautiously moved one foot and positioned the staff between them so the enemy could not see. Bonita was on the ground, her head pointed towards him and her feet towards the leader. Will tried to take a step forward but the leader pressed the sword harder into her neck.
"Don't move," He laughed. "I'm surprised you were able to best Shilon, he is one of our best soldiers."
The remaining three soldiers, besides the leader, surrounded Will on all sides but the one facing the leader.
"What is the order of peace and madness?" Will asked.
"Do you really think I'd tell you something you should already know?" The leader snorted. "Your master is evidently sheltering you like he always has."
"You don't have anything to say?" Will paused but the man didn't speak. "Then I guess it's my move."
Will jumped forward onto the air and grabbed the staff with his feet as he did so. He swung his legs up as fast as he could and released the staff at just the right moment. It flew perfectly through the air and connected to the leader's chest with such force that it shattered his ribs and snet him flying backwards. He landed on his back with a thud and the staff landed a few feet away from Bonita.
The three soldiers began to tremble in fear. Will turned his head to them and spoke, "Go tell your masters of the order of peace and madness that William Thrisfalen is coming for them."
Will heard the leader laugh and he moved closer and the leader said, "We were only a distraction to get the key. You are too late William, the end draws near."
He stopped breathing and stopped moving right after he finished speaking. Will grabbed him and was about to ask him a question but knew it would be pointless. He walked over to Bonita and offered her a hand.
(End part 2 :) Hope you enjoyed it. Sorry Deanna I wasn't sure exactly how Bonita would fight. Her fighting style I mean. So that's why I did not elaborate on that.)
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Bonita
She heard the question and snorted in distaste, "Can't you do anything? It's surprising you're not dead."
Will narrowed his eyes, his patience worn thin by lack of sleep. He grit his teeth and replied, "I'm sorry I asked I guess I'll just use whatever material I can find instead of something you don't mind me using."
Bonita turned away from him, it was probably a good thing Cordell was sleeping. She would have yelled at them both.
Will found some cloth and fixed up his wound in silence. Bonita wanted so badly to just leave and let them rot on their own but, something stopped her and it annoyed her to no end that she couldn't figure out what.
Will went to sleep without saying another word and that was fine with her. She was only sticking around til she got them out of this mess they'd dragged her into. She finally felt safe enough to sleep and curled up in a ball and closed her eyes.
She woke to the sound of birds chirping outside. Will and Cordell were both sound asleep. She left the cave and went into the forest to look for food. She found a few things she could live on, grubs mostly, but a few berry bushes that were not poisonous. She kept these things in mind and headed back to the cave to wait for the other to wake up.
"Don't move," She heard a commanding whisper and soldiers were suddenly on all sides of her. "Well, well, what have we here?"
Oh no, She thought. I broke the single most important rule. I'm outside during the day.
They all had weapons drawn and Bonita had not been formally trained to fight.
"We were looking for the natives that used to live around here and you fit the bill pretty nicely," The man, who looked to be in charge, said. "I'll make you a deal."
"I don't make deals," Bonita hissed. The disdain evident in her voice and her body language.
She knew couldn't win the fight but she charged at him anyways and jumped on him. Pounding fist after fist into his head. She stopped only when she felt cold metal against her neck. She stood up reluctantly and felt suddenly helpless against this enemy.
The man she pummeled stood up and slapped her across the face and twisted her hands behind her back, "I was going to let you go after you told me where the other two were, but now..." He spit a gob of blood onto the ground. "Now I'm going to let my men have at you."
The terror in her eyes increased but her defiance grew, "I'd sooner die."
"You'll certainly wish you were dead," He pushed her onto the ground in front of his men, waved his hand and turned away.
(Don't worry I know suspense rocks. Anyways I didn't want to overload anyone's senses with too much post at once. The next one or two will be tomorrow on this short mini-series.)
Will narrowed his eyes, his patience worn thin by lack of sleep. He grit his teeth and replied, "I'm sorry I asked I guess I'll just use whatever material I can find instead of something you don't mind me using."
Bonita turned away from him, it was probably a good thing Cordell was sleeping. She would have yelled at them both.
Will found some cloth and fixed up his wound in silence. Bonita wanted so badly to just leave and let them rot on their own but, something stopped her and it annoyed her to no end that she couldn't figure out what.
Will went to sleep without saying another word and that was fine with her. She was only sticking around til she got them out of this mess they'd dragged her into. She finally felt safe enough to sleep and curled up in a ball and closed her eyes.
She woke to the sound of birds chirping outside. Will and Cordell were both sound asleep. She left the cave and went into the forest to look for food. She found a few things she could live on, grubs mostly, but a few berry bushes that were not poisonous. She kept these things in mind and headed back to the cave to wait for the other to wake up.
"Don't move," She heard a commanding whisper and soldiers were suddenly on all sides of her. "Well, well, what have we here?"
Oh no, She thought. I broke the single most important rule. I'm outside during the day.
They all had weapons drawn and Bonita had not been formally trained to fight.
"We were looking for the natives that used to live around here and you fit the bill pretty nicely," The man, who looked to be in charge, said. "I'll make you a deal."
"I don't make deals," Bonita hissed. The disdain evident in her voice and her body language.
She knew couldn't win the fight but she charged at him anyways and jumped on him. Pounding fist after fist into his head. She stopped only when she felt cold metal against her neck. She stood up reluctantly and felt suddenly helpless against this enemy.
The man she pummeled stood up and slapped her across the face and twisted her hands behind her back, "I was going to let you go after you told me where the other two were, but now..." He spit a gob of blood onto the ground. "Now I'm going to let my men have at you."
The terror in her eyes increased but her defiance grew, "I'd sooner die."
"You'll certainly wish you were dead," He pushed her onto the ground in front of his men, waved his hand and turned away.
(Don't worry I know suspense rocks. Anyways I didn't want to overload anyone's senses with too much post at once. The next one or two will be tomorrow on this short mini-series.)
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