Lomea Part 1: Getting a chance
"Lomea! Number 34, now!"
Number 34.. the drow women inside this cell was the last survivor of a long sequel of experiments. They call her Caran – red. Once she had tried to flee and killed about 4 of her prison guards. In less than a few seconds her cell and the corridor were splattered with blood.
She was different. Lessons that broke the other prisoners made her stronger. She was the perfect weapon… a killer… a huntress with only one flaw: they couldn’t control her.
Lomea takes her equipment and goes to cell 34. She could imagine, what to expect. A drow woman in a horrible constitution. More dead as alive but with an iron will to survive. Today they increased the difficulty of the lesson again. She had voted against it. Even the strongest have their limits. But Lomea herself was only a prisoner. She had grown up as a slave of a famous healer and alchemist and had learned this subject from the beginning. As her master was recruited for this experiments, she had to follow. In the meantime she got ahead of her master and earned some kind of freedom. A magical collar allowed her to move free in the building. She hated her duty. She had learned to help people, not to torture them and patch them together afterwards.
As Lomea enters cell 34 Caran lies on the floor. Dead… some kind of dead. She was good. No noticable heartbeat, breathing or motion. Even her body was cold. Only her eyes could reveal if she was alive. And she was. A minimal reaction of her iris betrayed her. This was the chance, Lomea had waited for all the years. The chance to end this torture, to end the being of this prison. If Caran breaks free, she would destroy everything and everyone that had tortured her. She would make an end.
The second master, responsible for this series of experiments, enters the room.
“She is dead.” A second of shocked quietness follows Lomea’s words.
"Why is she dead?" he runs angry up and down cell. "She was the strongest. She survived all others of her generation. This will throw us back for years! Get away! Let me test her eyes again! She can't be dead!"
Lomea places two fine needles in Caran’s neck hidden from view. This will paralyse her muscles. Even those of her iris. Now she has to distract the second master. She gives the man an angry look, fixating with her hypnotic eyes "Leave her alone! I checked her thrice! She is dead! Even the strongest have their limits! I told you before, this lesson is too much for her organism! It is your fault! It is your responsibility!"
Lomea’s heart beats hard as he bows down to Caran, and starts checking her. Finally he cuts cursing Caran’s arm and gives her the dissolving poison. “Dispose her!” he runs out of the cell.
She had to act fast. The concentrate of a giant spiders venom would dissolve Caran’s body in a short time. Their method to get rid of unpleasant evidences of their doing. Lomea takes out two poison leeches and places them on the wound, covering them with the sleeve of Caran’s shirt. She removes the needles, looks at Caran and forms the word “survive” with her lips, before she orders someone to bring Caran to the “grave yard”.
Two sisters
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• Page 1 of 1
Two sisters
by Lommy » Tue Nov 28, 2006 12:47 am
Last edited by Lommy on Tue Nov 28, 2006 1:28 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Caran Part 1
by Lommy » Tue Nov 28, 2006 12:52 am
Caran Part 1: Breaking free
"Why is she dead?" an angry man runs up and down the few meters of the small cell, that was her home for about 230 years. "She was the strongest. She survived all others of her generation. This will throw us back for years! Get away! Let me test her eyes again! She can't be dead!"
She feels two needles in her neck, before the woman with those hypnotic ruby red eyes is pushed away by the angry man. She had learnd much in these years, even how to play dead. She knows that the only thing that might reveal her would be the reflexes of her eyes. That was their method to check on her after a lesson.
The women gives the man an intense and angry look. "Leave her alone! I checked her thrice! She is dead! Even the strongest have their limits! I told you before, this lesson is too much for her organism! It is your fault! It is your responsibility!"
The man cuts Caranlinte's arm and drips a fluid on the wound. She is not bleeding. She has reduced her heartbeat to a minimum. "Dispose her!" He runs cursing out of the cell.
The women with the red eyes smirks. She places two deep green leeches on the wound which start sucking out the venom immediately, and covers them with the sleeve of Caranlinte's shirt. She removes the needles, and gives her an intense look, while her lips form the word "survive".
"You! Bring her out before her body dissolves! Hurry up!" The woman stares at a strong man outside the cell. He makes a face and carries Caran out of the building into the forest, where he throws her down a small slope. The man turns around and hurries back into the building.
She lies in the brushwood. Slowly she brings her heartbeat up to a normal level. As dusk comes the leeches fall from her. As night comes, she jumps to her feet and runs into the shadows, fast, silent, and above all.... free.
"Why is she dead?" an angry man runs up and down the few meters of the small cell, that was her home for about 230 years. "She was the strongest. She survived all others of her generation. This will throw us back for years! Get away! Let me test her eyes again! She can't be dead!"
She feels two needles in her neck, before the woman with those hypnotic ruby red eyes is pushed away by the angry man. She had learnd much in these years, even how to play dead. She knows that the only thing that might reveal her would be the reflexes of her eyes. That was their method to check on her after a lesson.
The women gives the man an intense and angry look. "Leave her alone! I checked her thrice! She is dead! Even the strongest have their limits! I told you before, this lesson is too much for her organism! It is your fault! It is your responsibility!"
The man cuts Caranlinte's arm and drips a fluid on the wound. She is not bleeding. She has reduced her heartbeat to a minimum. "Dispose her!" He runs cursing out of the cell.
The women with the red eyes smirks. She places two deep green leeches on the wound which start sucking out the venom immediately, and covers them with the sleeve of Caranlinte's shirt. She removes the needles, and gives her an intense look, while her lips form the word "survive".
"You! Bring her out before her body dissolves! Hurry up!" The woman stares at a strong man outside the cell. He makes a face and carries Caran out of the building into the forest, where he throws her down a small slope. The man turns around and hurries back into the building.
She lies in the brushwood. Slowly she brings her heartbeat up to a normal level. As dusk comes the leeches fall from her. As night comes, she jumps to her feet and runs into the shadows, fast, silent, and above all.... free.
Last edited by Lommy on Tue Nov 28, 2006 1:45 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Caran part 2
by Lommy » Tue Nov 28, 2006 1:21 am
Caran Part 2: Running
The night has fallen. Still no one took her back into her cell. Is it a new test? A lesson? Or did she finally... it don't matter. She can't lay there forever. She sniffs the air. Decay. Nothing but decay. She jumps on her feet and listens. Rats in the brushwood beside her. Five crows flying over her. A leaf falls on the ground. She looks up the hill. A building inside a magical barrier. Was she really... outside? She turns around, the building in her back.
She runs.
Senses keen, scanning the area for them. The brushwood drags at her shirt, tears it to tatters until its finally gone. The pointy twigs hit her like thousands and thousands of lashes. After a short time the dense pattern of old scars is covered by the fine red pattern of uncountable scratches and cuts. it don't hurt. Pain was taken from her long time ago. Every lesson, every punishment, every hit of the lash has taught her to ignore physical pain. Pain is an emotion, not important, it only distracts, blurs senses, makes vulnerable.
She runs.
3 days running. Slowly she realizes, she is free. Tension falls from her with every step, every single yard she brings between her and them.
She runs.
Suddenly she begins recognizing the world around her. Step - a moss covered tree - step - a yellow red coloured leaf falls to the ground - step - a bird feeds its fledglings in the nest - step - a squirrel jumps up the tree - step - a deer runs beside her. She speeds up. The deer stays at her side. So she runs with the deer, challenging it and she begins to feel free. She lowers her speed, starts playing catch me with the deer, dodges the branches, jumps over the deer. What's that? Smell of sweat soaked fur, that stench - a bugbear. She had to fight them earlier. In her lessons. She stops her run. A bolt hits the deer. Dead. Grunt from the bushes. A huge bugbear comes to fetch its prey. She crouches behind the bush, like cat preparing her attack. As he is close enough she launches for his throat, biting through his windpipe and artery. Blood is running from her mouth. Warm and still pulsing. Blood. Flesh. She is hungry. She rips the raw flesh from the bugbear hunter and eats it, drinks his blood until her thirst is quenched.
Her past is catching up with her. She searches his tools and tailors a crude armour from the skins and senews he had already hunted, but saves the long and strong senews. It takes her half a day. She gathers some useful equipment sheaths the knife at her hip, and again...
she runs.
A strong and flexible branch knocks her back. She catches for breath for a moment, then steps closer. She slides her hand over that powerful sprout. It heads straight up to the sky, as if it exactly knows what it wants. Behind it lies a deep cliff. She bends the branch, tests the tension and finally cuts it. For three days she stays at the cliff, carving her bow and a quiver full of arrows.
They had trained her on several weapons, but the bow was her favourite. The bow was the only weapon that really became a part of her. While drawing a bow her whole body becomes this weapon. She feels the growing tension of every fibre of her as well as from the bow. Her senses gather at the point of the arrow to find it's destination. And when the tension has reached the peak, when all the power is held only by the senew and the arrow has its direction, in this short moment of perfect balance of power and tension, she finds peace. When she finally releases the power within and the arrow launches, she sometimes wishes to be the arrow.
After three days the bow is finished. And even if she didn't launch an arrow yet, she knows, she will never again use another one. Only one detail is still missing. And that she will go to get now. She caresses her bow, before gathering her stuff. She has to go back and she was prepared for whatever she will have to face. So she turns around, the cliff in her back and
She runs.
Her mind works like a clockwork. Lesson 34. If you want to eradicate a threat, eradicate all of them. They are the threat. As long as they are alive she will never be free. She has to bring them down. One by one. She calls everything back in her mind. The construction of the prison, the layout of the rooms, where the guards used to be, everything.
She runs.
With every step she comes closer to her prison, with every single step the back of her left lower arm pulsates stronger, begins to burn. The mark. She had tried more than once to scratch it from her skin, even to tear it with the skin off her flesh. But it lasts. She bears it since she can remember. They must have burned it once into her arm and it was active again. That could only mean they know she is still alive. Her old rage catches up again. They will suffer. Suffer for everything they had done to her, to Linte. Every single scar will be revenged. They all have to die.
Bloodthirst!
The night has fallen. Still no one took her back into her cell. Is it a new test? A lesson? Or did she finally... it don't matter. She can't lay there forever. She sniffs the air. Decay. Nothing but decay. She jumps on her feet and listens. Rats in the brushwood beside her. Five crows flying over her. A leaf falls on the ground. She looks up the hill. A building inside a magical barrier. Was she really... outside? She turns around, the building in her back.
She runs.
Senses keen, scanning the area for them. The brushwood drags at her shirt, tears it to tatters until its finally gone. The pointy twigs hit her like thousands and thousands of lashes. After a short time the dense pattern of old scars is covered by the fine red pattern of uncountable scratches and cuts. it don't hurt. Pain was taken from her long time ago. Every lesson, every punishment, every hit of the lash has taught her to ignore physical pain. Pain is an emotion, not important, it only distracts, blurs senses, makes vulnerable.
She runs.
3 days running. Slowly she realizes, she is free. Tension falls from her with every step, every single yard she brings between her and them.
She runs.
Suddenly she begins recognizing the world around her. Step - a moss covered tree - step - a yellow red coloured leaf falls to the ground - step - a bird feeds its fledglings in the nest - step - a squirrel jumps up the tree - step - a deer runs beside her. She speeds up. The deer stays at her side. So she runs with the deer, challenging it and she begins to feel free. She lowers her speed, starts playing catch me with the deer, dodges the branches, jumps over the deer. What's that? Smell of sweat soaked fur, that stench - a bugbear. She had to fight them earlier. In her lessons. She stops her run. A bolt hits the deer. Dead. Grunt from the bushes. A huge bugbear comes to fetch its prey. She crouches behind the bush, like cat preparing her attack. As he is close enough she launches for his throat, biting through his windpipe and artery. Blood is running from her mouth. Warm and still pulsing. Blood. Flesh. She is hungry. She rips the raw flesh from the bugbear hunter and eats it, drinks his blood until her thirst is quenched.
Her past is catching up with her. She searches his tools and tailors a crude armour from the skins and senews he had already hunted, but saves the long and strong senews. It takes her half a day. She gathers some useful equipment sheaths the knife at her hip, and again...
she runs.
A strong and flexible branch knocks her back. She catches for breath for a moment, then steps closer. She slides her hand over that powerful sprout. It heads straight up to the sky, as if it exactly knows what it wants. Behind it lies a deep cliff. She bends the branch, tests the tension and finally cuts it. For three days she stays at the cliff, carving her bow and a quiver full of arrows.
They had trained her on several weapons, but the bow was her favourite. The bow was the only weapon that really became a part of her. While drawing a bow her whole body becomes this weapon. She feels the growing tension of every fibre of her as well as from the bow. Her senses gather at the point of the arrow to find it's destination. And when the tension has reached the peak, when all the power is held only by the senew and the arrow has its direction, in this short moment of perfect balance of power and tension, she finds peace. When she finally releases the power within and the arrow launches, she sometimes wishes to be the arrow.
After three days the bow is finished. And even if she didn't launch an arrow yet, she knows, she will never again use another one. Only one detail is still missing. And that she will go to get now. She caresses her bow, before gathering her stuff. She has to go back and she was prepared for whatever she will have to face. So she turns around, the cliff in her back and
She runs.
Her mind works like a clockwork. Lesson 34. If you want to eradicate a threat, eradicate all of them. They are the threat. As long as they are alive she will never be free. She has to bring them down. One by one. She calls everything back in her mind. The construction of the prison, the layout of the rooms, where the guards used to be, everything.
She runs.
With every step she comes closer to her prison, with every single step the back of her left lower arm pulsates stronger, begins to burn. The mark. She had tried more than once to scratch it from her skin, even to tear it with the skin off her flesh. But it lasts. She bears it since she can remember. They must have burned it once into her arm and it was active again. That could only mean they know she is still alive. Her old rage catches up again. They will suffer. Suffer for everything they had done to her, to Linte. Every single scar will be revenged. They all have to die.
Bloodthirst!
Last edited by Lommy on Mon Jan 01, 2007 8:50 am, edited 2 times in total.
- Lommy
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Lomea Part 2
by Lommy » Tue Nov 28, 2006 1:25 am
Lomea Part 2: Things change
A week was gone, since Caran escaped. They set her on another, not less gruesome project. Again she had to drug and to torture people. This time just to improve torture methods.
“Lomea!” The second master snarls at her.
She sighs. It was a mistake, as she blamed the second master for Carans death. He was really angry and took her the right to move free and to talk. He summoned her all few minutes somewhere and additional to those little jobs, she had to do her work, otherwise she had to fear further punishment. But finally Caran was free and it will be over soon. She will die. If Caran shows up again, they will take her to responsibility and even if she survives them, Caran will kill her. She will die and it won’t be an easy death. But it didn’t matter. Finally she won’t have to torture anymore, and they won’t either.
“To the master! Now!”
The master, that means nothing good. Did they notice…? She hesitates to touch that eye-door. The master’s room is behind it. It was everytime as it would see deep into her soul. But it was not good to let him wait and so she goes.
She walks quickly to the area marked with their sign, eyes to the ground. She goes down to her knees, face to the ground, hands outstreched in front of her. She knows she has to stay in that position until he releases her. She was not allowed to speak until she was asked nor to look at him.
“Lomea, Lomea…” The deep and rough voice goes right through her. “You made it far. You are gifted… What a waste!” he steps on her hands. He is heavy. But she is not allowed to make any sound. He turnes his feet. Fingers crack. Tears shoot into her eyes. “Too bad you betrayed us.” She is grabbed by several hands. Her left sleeve is shoved back. “You will warn us when she is near… and.. you will suffer her death before you will suffer your own. Ah, and you will still work on that nice torture research” Horrible laugh. Heat on her skin. Unbearable. The smell of burned flesh. She screams of pain before she fells unconscious.
She awakes. Her left arm hurts like hell, her hands are swollen and she can barely move her fingers. She shivers. The cold floor beneath her sucks all the warmth from her. Cold eases burning, so she presses her arm on the rough ground and the sharp edged gravel hurt the fresh wound. She slides back into unconsciousness.
Her arm.. again it is the pain, dragging her back into reality. Her fingers.. she has to take care of her fingers if she wants to… but what is she supposed to do? She is now on the other side. On the suffering and dying side. Even if Caran makes her way back, she will die. She struggles not to fade out again. What.. why is she so awfully tired? Her thoughts blurr and she looses the struggle against the drug.
She awakes again. How long is she here now? She opens her eyes. Darkness. Did they… No. Not their style to hurt while unconscious. Focus… she needs to focus… sit… slowly she struggles herself in a sitting position. She feels dizzy. Fingers. At least she is a healer, and it is not her nature to surrender. Otherwise Caran would be still in her cell and she at her alchemic table.
Starting with her left little finger she takes the finger in her mouth feeling where it broke, then biting on her fingertip she pulls the bone back into it’s place. The pain exceeds that of her burning arm. Ten fingers later she concentrates on her healing abilyties to reconnect the bones. She is exhausted. Her healing magic is weak. Potions and medicine are her strenght. In those lies her real magic.
She tries to move her fingers carefully.They are still swollen, but there was some ease while her arm burnes like still on fire. She can’t see her arm, she sniffs it. Burned flesh. No need to have a look at it. They branded her like the other prisoners… slaves. It was their sign, bound with magic. They controlled them by pain, as long as pain did matter. They never were able to control Caran. She even tried to scratch the mark from her arm, and as this failed she tried to tear off her skin with the sign. But it lasted.
Lomea stares into the darkness. What will they do next to her? Desorientation by darkness, cold and drugs – done. Bitterly checking the protocol in thoughts. So next was the ‘light’ start – lashing nearly to the death. The lashes.... Thousands of tiny hooks piercing the skin. Thousands of tiny hooks, that rip the skin, that rip the flesh from her back. The wounds are deep and heal slowly. Mostly it was her duty to patch them up for further treatment. But better not thinking about what will come. They will let her wait. Sometimes there are weeks between ‘treatment’. Slowly she gets used to that darkness around her. A slight glowing catches her eyes. It is her arm.
A week was gone, since Caran escaped. They set her on another, not less gruesome project. Again she had to drug and to torture people. This time just to improve torture methods.
“Lomea!” The second master snarls at her.
She sighs. It was a mistake, as she blamed the second master for Carans death. He was really angry and took her the right to move free and to talk. He summoned her all few minutes somewhere and additional to those little jobs, she had to do her work, otherwise she had to fear further punishment. But finally Caran was free and it will be over soon. She will die. If Caran shows up again, they will take her to responsibility and even if she survives them, Caran will kill her. She will die and it won’t be an easy death. But it didn’t matter. Finally she won’t have to torture anymore, and they won’t either.
“To the master! Now!”
The master, that means nothing good. Did they notice…? She hesitates to touch that eye-door. The master’s room is behind it. It was everytime as it would see deep into her soul. But it was not good to let him wait and so she goes.
She walks quickly to the area marked with their sign, eyes to the ground. She goes down to her knees, face to the ground, hands outstreched in front of her. She knows she has to stay in that position until he releases her. She was not allowed to speak until she was asked nor to look at him.
“Lomea, Lomea…” The deep and rough voice goes right through her. “You made it far. You are gifted… What a waste!” he steps on her hands. He is heavy. But she is not allowed to make any sound. He turnes his feet. Fingers crack. Tears shoot into her eyes. “Too bad you betrayed us.” She is grabbed by several hands. Her left sleeve is shoved back. “You will warn us when she is near… and.. you will suffer her death before you will suffer your own. Ah, and you will still work on that nice torture research” Horrible laugh. Heat on her skin. Unbearable. The smell of burned flesh. She screams of pain before she fells unconscious.
She awakes. Her left arm hurts like hell, her hands are swollen and she can barely move her fingers. She shivers. The cold floor beneath her sucks all the warmth from her. Cold eases burning, so she presses her arm on the rough ground and the sharp edged gravel hurt the fresh wound. She slides back into unconsciousness.
Her arm.. again it is the pain, dragging her back into reality. Her fingers.. she has to take care of her fingers if she wants to… but what is she supposed to do? She is now on the other side. On the suffering and dying side. Even if Caran makes her way back, she will die. She struggles not to fade out again. What.. why is she so awfully tired? Her thoughts blurr and she looses the struggle against the drug.
She awakes again. How long is she here now? She opens her eyes. Darkness. Did they… No. Not their style to hurt while unconscious. Focus… she needs to focus… sit… slowly she struggles herself in a sitting position. She feels dizzy. Fingers. At least she is a healer, and it is not her nature to surrender. Otherwise Caran would be still in her cell and she at her alchemic table.
Starting with her left little finger she takes the finger in her mouth feeling where it broke, then biting on her fingertip she pulls the bone back into it’s place. The pain exceeds that of her burning arm. Ten fingers later she concentrates on her healing abilyties to reconnect the bones. She is exhausted. Her healing magic is weak. Potions and medicine are her strenght. In those lies her real magic.
She tries to move her fingers carefully.They are still swollen, but there was some ease while her arm burnes like still on fire. She can’t see her arm, she sniffs it. Burned flesh. No need to have a look at it. They branded her like the other prisoners… slaves. It was their sign, bound with magic. They controlled them by pain, as long as pain did matter. They never were able to control Caran. She even tried to scratch the mark from her arm, and as this failed she tried to tear off her skin with the sign. But it lasted.
Lomea stares into the darkness. What will they do next to her? Desorientation by darkness, cold and drugs – done. Bitterly checking the protocol in thoughts. So next was the ‘light’ start – lashing nearly to the death. The lashes.... Thousands of tiny hooks piercing the skin. Thousands of tiny hooks, that rip the skin, that rip the flesh from her back. The wounds are deep and heal slowly. Mostly it was her duty to patch them up for further treatment. But better not thinking about what will come. They will let her wait. Sometimes there are weeks between ‘treatment’. Slowly she gets used to that darkness around her. A slight glowing catches her eyes. It is her arm.
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Caran+Lommy 3
by Lommy » Thu Nov 30, 2006 10:50 pm
Caran + Lommy part 3: Encounter
There it is. A faint humm and a slight glow reveal the presence of the magical barrier. The last miles she jumped from tree to tree, avoiding the traps they placed for her. Even the trees were trapped. But they were lazy. It was easy to avoid them.. too easy? Senses keen. Being alert all the time. No distraction. Focus. The shield. The guards were able to walk through it. It opened for them. She takes position on a near by tree and watches the guards for a day and for a night. They seem to have an amulet, resonating with the shield. "Lesson 431: Magic fields often correspontent with the mage, who created them. Even small modifications while interacting with it, may cause an alarm. " Caution. Try to sneak in. Waiting for the night again. " Lesson 36: Darkness, shades and twilight give cover." She can still kill the guards if they notice her.
Light. Suddenly the room is flooded with light. Her eyes hurt. They must have left her in the cell for some days. Her arm is better and her fingers healed. But it did not stop glowing. It even glows stronger from day to day.
The twilight protects her. Crouching like a hunting panther, she sneaks to the gate, pressing herself near to the ground, she blends perfectly into it. She waits. There. The guards approaching. Every single muscle is tensed. Patience... they touch their amulets… stay calm… the magic field opens… wait… they step through… go! She slippes through the narrow space between the guards and the shield. They stop. Look around. One bows down, scratching his leg. The guards close the field again. About 15 minutes before they come back. Smirking inside, she remains on the ground for a moment before she sneaks on.
It takes a while before she can see. She is in her cell.. in Carans bloodsplatterd prison. Two big men approach, bind her hands together and hang the rope into a hook at the ceiling. She hangs more than she stands on the ground. “Leave us alone!” The hated voice of her second master hits her ears. “So you finally ended up on the side you belong to, slave!” He laughes grimly and gives her a first swing of the lashes. Her breath stops for a second, as it hits. She knows, the painful part is when he pulls it back. He waits a moment before he rips off her skin with a sudden and powerful motion. She screams in agony. Blood runs down her back and legs, while he makes his swings. He talks to her. His voice is frightening but she doesn’t hear his words. Everything appears unimportant beside the pain she feels. Her legs don’t carry her anymore.
First step taken. Now the building. She runs in the cover of the building. Her feet barely touch the ground. Stop at the corner. Listen… steps… voices… 2 guards… metall scratching… armoured like the other two doing their round outside the magical shield.. aim for the throat… kill fast and silently. She readys her bow and quiver, nocks an arrow to her bow. Blending with the wall she sneaks around the corner, takes aim, shoots at the first guard and before the second one is able to react, she draws another arrow in a smooth motion and launches it for his throat. Two down. Two outside. Many to go. She removes the arrows from the guards, inspecting them, throwing one away, cleaning and nocking the other one to her bow again. Waiting for the other two returning from their round. Steps.. just in time… listening… they are walking side by side… she nocks a second arrow to the bow, glances around the corner, waits, shoots, approaches, checks them. Four down. Her back is free. She takes an amulet and hides it. Silent screams reach her ears from inside.. wailing… they are still torturing… they will die. She readys her bow, nocks an arrow, heads for the entrance.
A few swings later he steps close to her, grabs painfully into her hair and pulls her head back. He is close to her. Breathing his foul smell into her face. There is still his voice echoing in her ears.. so near… so satisfied. Her body is sore from pain, numb. Tears running down her face. He won’t kill her. Even if he was the one, who killed most of the slaves, he wont kill HER.
Looking down the narrow hallway. Doors… cells…no cover. Adjusting the position of her dagger. She works through the building door by door, cell by cell. Most are empty, the others die a fast dead. Something is wrong… far to few people… the building used to humm like a beehive… a trap?… don’t matter. Survived far more difficult lessons… they knew she was comeing… her mark…trap or not. She has to deal with them. Better now than later. Careful.. senses sharp. They made her a huntress. Now they will have to face their creation.
She cries, she shivers, she is desperated. There is only one thing she really wants, that she wishes from the deepest ground of her soul. She wants to die. His fist breakes her nose, and he shouts into her ear. “Say it!”
Next door. Her old cell. Screams. Taunting voice. Lashes. Two people. One to kill. One already half dead. She knows that voice. Heard it more than once. No time to pay back now… but he will die slowly. Perhaps slow enough. Arrow through his windpipe, will drown by his own blood… cant scream. She opens the door, aims, shoots.
A silent hiss, and he goes down. Slowly. His one hand holds still her hair, pulling her head into her neck painfully, before he releases her. He does not speak, not scream, no sound leaves his lips.
She smirks as he falls to the feet of his victim. Kind of satisfying.
A bloody heap hangs from the ceiling. Sobbing. Barely alive. Standing in a puddle of her own blood. Skin ripped off her back. A mark glows at her arm.
She sees her arm glowing brightly. Someone stares at her.. for a minute… or two… The time has come. Lomea gathers her strength to turn her head to the door. She wants to look into her eyes, she wants to show her, that she is sorry about what she had done, and that she accepts the death from her hand.
She moves. Looks at her. Ruby red eyes. She has seen them before. Not hypnotic anymore. Awaiting death.
They stare at each other. Something is odd. Instinct says don’t kill. She nocks an arrow, takes aim and seperates the rope holding Lomeas hands on the hook. Lomea falls down, facing the widend eyes of her torturer. An arrow penetrates his throat. He is still alive, fighting his death.
Steps echoing the hallway. She has to go on.
She looks up to the door, but Caran has vanished.
There it is. A faint humm and a slight glow reveal the presence of the magical barrier. The last miles she jumped from tree to tree, avoiding the traps they placed for her. Even the trees were trapped. But they were lazy. It was easy to avoid them.. too easy? Senses keen. Being alert all the time. No distraction. Focus. The shield. The guards were able to walk through it. It opened for them. She takes position on a near by tree and watches the guards for a day and for a night. They seem to have an amulet, resonating with the shield. "Lesson 431: Magic fields often correspontent with the mage, who created them. Even small modifications while interacting with it, may cause an alarm. " Caution. Try to sneak in. Waiting for the night again. " Lesson 36: Darkness, shades and twilight give cover." She can still kill the guards if they notice her.
Light. Suddenly the room is flooded with light. Her eyes hurt. They must have left her in the cell for some days. Her arm is better and her fingers healed. But it did not stop glowing. It even glows stronger from day to day.
The twilight protects her. Crouching like a hunting panther, she sneaks to the gate, pressing herself near to the ground, she blends perfectly into it. She waits. There. The guards approaching. Every single muscle is tensed. Patience... they touch their amulets… stay calm… the magic field opens… wait… they step through… go! She slippes through the narrow space between the guards and the shield. They stop. Look around. One bows down, scratching his leg. The guards close the field again. About 15 minutes before they come back. Smirking inside, she remains on the ground for a moment before she sneaks on.
It takes a while before she can see. She is in her cell.. in Carans bloodsplatterd prison. Two big men approach, bind her hands together and hang the rope into a hook at the ceiling. She hangs more than she stands on the ground. “Leave us alone!” The hated voice of her second master hits her ears. “So you finally ended up on the side you belong to, slave!” He laughes grimly and gives her a first swing of the lashes. Her breath stops for a second, as it hits. She knows, the painful part is when he pulls it back. He waits a moment before he rips off her skin with a sudden and powerful motion. She screams in agony. Blood runs down her back and legs, while he makes his swings. He talks to her. His voice is frightening but she doesn’t hear his words. Everything appears unimportant beside the pain she feels. Her legs don’t carry her anymore.
First step taken. Now the building. She runs in the cover of the building. Her feet barely touch the ground. Stop at the corner. Listen… steps… voices… 2 guards… metall scratching… armoured like the other two doing their round outside the magical shield.. aim for the throat… kill fast and silently. She readys her bow and quiver, nocks an arrow to her bow. Blending with the wall she sneaks around the corner, takes aim, shoots at the first guard and before the second one is able to react, she draws another arrow in a smooth motion and launches it for his throat. Two down. Two outside. Many to go. She removes the arrows from the guards, inspecting them, throwing one away, cleaning and nocking the other one to her bow again. Waiting for the other two returning from their round. Steps.. just in time… listening… they are walking side by side… she nocks a second arrow to the bow, glances around the corner, waits, shoots, approaches, checks them. Four down. Her back is free. She takes an amulet and hides it. Silent screams reach her ears from inside.. wailing… they are still torturing… they will die. She readys her bow, nocks an arrow, heads for the entrance.
A few swings later he steps close to her, grabs painfully into her hair and pulls her head back. He is close to her. Breathing his foul smell into her face. There is still his voice echoing in her ears.. so near… so satisfied. Her body is sore from pain, numb. Tears running down her face. He won’t kill her. Even if he was the one, who killed most of the slaves, he wont kill HER.
Looking down the narrow hallway. Doors… cells…no cover. Adjusting the position of her dagger. She works through the building door by door, cell by cell. Most are empty, the others die a fast dead. Something is wrong… far to few people… the building used to humm like a beehive… a trap?… don’t matter. Survived far more difficult lessons… they knew she was comeing… her mark…trap or not. She has to deal with them. Better now than later. Careful.. senses sharp. They made her a huntress. Now they will have to face their creation.
She cries, she shivers, she is desperated. There is only one thing she really wants, that she wishes from the deepest ground of her soul. She wants to die. His fist breakes her nose, and he shouts into her ear. “Say it!”
Next door. Her old cell. Screams. Taunting voice. Lashes. Two people. One to kill. One already half dead. She knows that voice. Heard it more than once. No time to pay back now… but he will die slowly. Perhaps slow enough. Arrow through his windpipe, will drown by his own blood… cant scream. She opens the door, aims, shoots.
A silent hiss, and he goes down. Slowly. His one hand holds still her hair, pulling her head into her neck painfully, before he releases her. He does not speak, not scream, no sound leaves his lips.
She smirks as he falls to the feet of his victim. Kind of satisfying.
A bloody heap hangs from the ceiling. Sobbing. Barely alive. Standing in a puddle of her own blood. Skin ripped off her back. A mark glows at her arm.
She sees her arm glowing brightly. Someone stares at her.. for a minute… or two… The time has come. Lomea gathers her strength to turn her head to the door. She wants to look into her eyes, she wants to show her, that she is sorry about what she had done, and that she accepts the death from her hand.
She moves. Looks at her. Ruby red eyes. She has seen them before. Not hypnotic anymore. Awaiting death.
They stare at each other. Something is odd. Instinct says don’t kill. She nocks an arrow, takes aim and seperates the rope holding Lomeas hands on the hook. Lomea falls down, facing the widend eyes of her torturer. An arrow penetrates his throat. He is still alive, fighting his death.
Steps echoing the hallway. She has to go on.
She looks up to the door, but Caran has vanished.
- Lommy
- Posts: 24
- Joined: Mon Nov 27, 2006 11:01 pm
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