Torment

[hermitcrab1112]

The summer sun shone down on the encampment, blazing rays striking at any who dared to venture out of their tents.
Few did.
It was obviously a war-camp; although most soldiers were still in reserve, and stayed within their cool tents, save for the ones on sentry, or the few who ventured to the near-by, slowly drying up, oasis.

His name.
He couldn’t remember it!
Vainly, the man strove to find a flicker of remembrance, yet all he could recall were the two poles-which he hung from by his arms-his front facing toward the commandant’s tent, kneeling in the hot sand, the sunburned skin healing on his back, legs, and chest.

He wished it wouldn’t heal.
When it healed they would come again.
They would whip him again, and he would scream again; they would re-break his fingers and mock him.
Pushing the image from his mind, he sagged against the chains, vainly trying to recall his identity.

It came like a flash of brilliant light, slipping back into his tortured mind.
Reynard, Duc de Blois.
The Duc was twenty-three.
He knew it was supposed to mean something.
How had he gotten here?
Unexpectedly, he remembered; there’d been a battle, he’d been captured…brought here.

Vaguely, he wondered why they hated him so.
That came as well, bright against the dark ravage of his mind.
He’d led the defense of his nation-Andorra wasn’t it?-he’d destroyed and skirmished, leading his troops to victory.
So that was it.
They feared him.

He would have laughed if he’d been able, but the lack of water and scorching sunburn stopped him.
Instead, Reynard cried, his pride so far gone he didn’t even care.
The tears were hot, but it didn’t matter, he was already going to die.
Maybe, hopefully; he would.

The former Duc sunk forward, formerly chestnut hair now pure white, haunted brown eyes hidden beneath the rather long locks.
They hadn’t even allowed his hair to be cut-unsurprising, really; Andorrans were notorious for their short hair.
Of course they would let it grow long; just another blow to his weakened spirit.

They’d wanted information; he remembered….had he given it to them?
Guilt wracked the bent body, much like the dry sobs.
What if he had?
He probably had.
A silent scream came from him, yet he made no noise.
Confused for a moment, he tested to see; maybe they’d cut his tongue out, after he gave them what they wanted.
No, it was there.

For some reason, he felt relief, although he wasn’t quite sure why.
Why was he still alive?
They’d probably gotten any information from him they could use; what more could they want?
With a silent, bitter laugh, he realized; they were playing with him, enjoying his torture, his oncoming insanity.

He would welcome death, welcome insanity, anything where he wouldn’t have to feel it the next time they broke his fingers.
The brown eyes swept over the fingers, before returning to the ground, shut tight.
They were beyond repair, misshapen and crooked, his hands a wreck-much like his entire body, he realized.
Like the burn scars that covered his arms.
He didn’t remember getting them-except in his dreams.

Maybe he’d die this time, as he was beaten and they enjoyed their moment of power. Maybe he wouldn’t have to endure it.
Maybe the commandant would order him executed.
With a barely audible sigh, the once-nobleman; now only a ravaged vessel for his tormented mind, sank back, collapsing against his chains.
As he faded into unconsciousness, one final thought flickered through his mind.
He was going to die-and he didn’t care.

[Evoth]

A young soldier of about medium build stood in the shadow of a dying tree. Emerald eyes gazed down upon the figure bound in chains. Pity was the only thing that came to mind as he say the prisoner finally pass out. His duties were to keep a close eye on him, to make sure he survived.

The unbearable heat caused sweat to bead on his brow. Not even the tanned cotton clothes he wore kept him cool. With a slow brush across his forehead with his forearm he brushed his long ebon hair as he swiped the sweat away. This soldier's name was Alix, a double agent.

Alix watched as the remaining soldiers entered their tents to escape the wrath of the near noon sun. Now was the time to move closer without any suspicion. He slowly made his way down to the prisoner's position. With each step he took his black infantry boots picked up the dust of the dry ground and threw it into the air in a cascade effect.

This man before him seemed to be reduced to nothing but a pile of flesh and bone. What spirit could live inside this broken coffin. Alix crouched down next to the broken man. "Come on, wake up!" He said softly, "I have some water for you. Wake up." He shifted his weight and shook the man, "We don't have much time."

He pulled a flax water skin from his leather belt. The sound of water sloshing around inside of it reached his ears. Alix opened the skin and slowly released the liquid of life from it. The water fell onto Duc's head and ran down his back. Dripping from his long hair. "That has to wake him up." Alix thought to himself.

[hermitcrab1112]

Through the fog in which he had succumbed, Reynard could feel himself being pulled, slowly, laboriously, back into consciousness.
Something was touching him; cold, wet.
Water?
Someone was talking to him, had poured water over his head.
Who would give him water?

With a jolt of pain, he opened his eyes, blinking, trying to focus.
There was a man in front of him. Apparently, he was trying to wake him up. Unfortunately, he'd succeeded.

Still struggling to find focus, the dry lips part, and he spoke, his voice only a vague semblance of speech.
"Wh-why did....you.....why did you wake me?"

[Evoth]

The man had finally woken up. A brief half smile appeared on Alix's face. He pressed the water skin to Duc's lips and lifted it so he could drink. "Why you ask." He paused for a moment. The thought in the back of his mind. If he were to reveal his true reason then his cover would be blown and it would all be for nothing. "Because, we need you alive a little longer. It is my task to make sure of that." The words were harsh and cold. Unlike the act he had just performed.

Alix, with his free hand reached into a hide pouch that hung just below his belt. Pulling free from the pouch was a piece of dried meat. "If you are able to, I want you to eat this." A stir amongst the tents startled him. He rose to his feet but soon gave a quick sigh of relief. "Only the wind." Alix thought to himself. Turning back to Duc, he resumed aiding him.

[hermitcrab1112]

Reynard accepted the water, feeling the cooling liquid trickle down his throat. Then the man answered him. His injured mind tried to grasp the concept of his words. When he finally understood, a thousand questions ran through his mind.

Why would anyone want to save him? He had betrayed military secrets to the enemy-or at least he thought he had. Who would risk their life for him?

Unfortunately, the only thing that managed to escape his was, as he feebly pushed the meat away, these words:
"I ca-can't eat...that. Or anything.

[Evoth]

Alix sighed and put the meat back in the pouch. "Very well." he said softly. Sealing the water skin, he hung it around his shoulder. Looking upon the pitiful creature before him filled Alix with empathy for him. "Just do me one thing....Don't die just yet." With those words Alix made his way back to his post.

What was planned for Duc was soon to come to hand. Death by any means. But unfortunately his death was chosen by slow toture. Everyday the beatings becoming worse. Soon it would surely kill him. Alix has to step in soon.

"Nightfall." he said quietly.

[hermitcrab1112]

His brow creased, Reynard fell back into the crouch from which he had risen, his sunburned brow creased.

Stay alive? Had the man really said that? Why?
For the last month, Reynard had wished for death-and now someone was telling him to stay alive?
How irritating.

At least, it would have been irritating, if Reynard had remained conscious a bit longer. Unfortunately-or fortunately, depends on how you look at it-he didn't. He was fading already, and soon he was back, back in the vaguely conscious dream-world.
Safe. No pain.

An hour passed, two perhaps, and the camp rose to life for a moment, only to consume food. He roused for a moment, then slipped away again, already his conversation-if it could be called that-slipping out of his memory.
Maybe they wouldn't come tonight. And if they did, maybe they wouldn't break his fingers.
They came.

After most of the camp was asleep, he was woken by a feeling of being dragged. In fact, he /was/ being dragged. By two large, and quite burly men whom he recognized, oddly enough. And he was being dragged to the commandant's tent.

He struggled for a moment, but his efforts were too weak for the men to barely notice. They gave him one look of total boredom, and he was in the tent.

The commandant stood at the table, his face absolutely emotionless. Not so, Reynard. His face was a mask of fear, pure panic in his eyes. Still, he made no sound, barely restraining the whimpers that threatened to overwhelm him.

The commandant walked toward him, his face still emotionless, and spoke, in a low, bored voice. "Well, boy. Are you going to talk?" Reynard's eyes grew large at the question, a surge of hope running through the terror that he felt. He hadn't given anything away? He hadn't betrayed his king?

The thought was relieving, and the thought that he was probably going to die helped. If they killed him tonight, whether by accident or purpose, he couldn't give anything away. Still, he didn't answer; he'd probably start crying if he did.

The commandant gave a dull sigh, and turned to his henchmen, muttering to himself. "Stupid boy, doesn't know what's good for him. All the same...wish /we/ had such loyalty."
Reynard heard him, barely. Most of the words were blocked out by the fact that one of the henchmen had a very long whip.
Discouraging.

He barely repressed a sob as they tied him down, and when the lashes began, he held out for seven strokes.
Then he screamed, an inhuman sound of pain and fear that didn't belong in a human camp.
After twenty-four more strokes he had fainted, the screams, cries, and sobs finally disappearing. The commandant was extremely angry. The boy /still/ hadn't said anything!

With an angry gesture, he stoppped the men from waking Reynard, and had him chained to the edge of the camp-far away from the rest of the soldiers. Then he went to bed. He would have to be executed tomorrow-he simply wasn't being profitable. Eight months of torture should have been enough to break him.

Reynard woke hours later, as the moon marked eleven o'clock. The desert air was cold at night, and he shivered uncontrollably. The skin on his back hung in ribbons, and it was all he could do to keep from thinking about it. With a shake of the head, he remembered what he had thought before he had descended into unconsciousness while being beaten.

"Don't die just yet." Well, he hadn't. Sadly. Maybe the man had been a mirage. Wait...mirages didn't give people water-did they?

((Sorry that was so long.))

[Evoth]

occ:It's not a problem. ;D

The steady beats of hooves carried a rhythm across the dry ground. Kicking dust into the warm night air. It was a horse; and upon it's back was a rider. Warn to the bone from the day's events. It was Alix. His body was covered in dust and dried blood.

What had he done? Alix rode to a small outpost of his kingdom with news of his plan. But it came with a price. Attacked as he returned from the outpost by enemies who wished to reveal his allegiance. Alix drew a subtle sigh, "They'll try to find us once they discover he's missing." He shook his head, "It doesn't matter. Everything has been decided."

The camp had become desolate. Only a few watchmen patrolled through the area. Alix's horse slowed down to a canter as they neared. Pulling it to a halt he dismounted the beast and walked over to the ravaged man. He gave a silent cursed as he saw the sight. Duc's body was covered with lacerations and dried blood. He had to restrain himself from drawing closer to look.

Reaching into the the pouch around his shoulder, he pulled out a ring of brass keys. The sound of the metal jingling set him on edge for a moment. But it was soon muffled by his hand. Alix had put much risk of being discovered by taking the keys from the commandant. Placing the key into the shackles, the sound of barely audible click was heard. The shackle fell from Duc. Releasing the other one Duc fell free to the ground.

"I'm going to get you out of here." said Alix to the unconscious man. With a small grunt he hoisted Duc over his shoulder and made his way to his horse. "I hope you can handle both our weight girl." Throwing Duc onto the horse's back, Alix placed his foot into the stirrup and pulled himself onto the beast. He threw the keys on the ground, "Come on." pressuring the horse's side it bolted off toward the open land. Alix looked back to see torch's dancing across the encampment. They had found that their prisoner was gone.

[hermitcrab1112]

Reynard woke an hour later, jostled awake by the pain of being bounced by the horse. His eyes opened finally, slowly, unsure of whether he wanted them open.

As his eyes focused, he figured out that he was on a horse. Someone was in front of him, handling the horse. Quite well, actually.

Then he spoke, his voice low, probably unheard.
"Who...Where?"
What an idiotic speech. He would have to do better next time.
-d-

[Evoth]

Alix heard the low mumble of words. "Finally awake eh?" he said, "It seems that you actually listened to me. Good." Pulling on the horse slowed down. Alix didn't want to impose any more pain than there was. The moon shined down upon them as though it were a spotlight of a prison. Riding across the open plains was dangerous with troops pursuing you. In the back of his mind Alix knew that they would have to deviate their course through the forest in hopes to lose enemy patrols.

[hermitcrab1112]

Reynard nodded, although he knew perfectly well that the man couldn't see behind him. Then, he spoke, his voice a bit louder this time. Well. That was a relief--maybe.

"Yes...Maybe I shouldn't have...Listened, I mea..."
He stopped, rather irritated by the whole situation. He should have died. This was ridiculous. People this beat-up should be dead; fact of life.
Oh well. He wasn't...and this guy seemed to be rather insistent about it.
Pity.
-d-

[pearlypat823]

ooc | Hey there hermitcrab! Mind if I join? By the way, you should write novels. You're amazing!

[hermitcrab1112]

Ooc;;

Pearly!
/So/ glad you joined. And, of course you may join.

Thanks for the compliment, as well, although frankly, I think I stink.

[pearlypat823]

ooc| thank you thank you. And you do NOT stink. You're better than me! ok. here goes nothing. Do you mind if there are some woods beyond the barren plains you are in? Cause there are now!

[pearlypat823]

Silver rays of moonlight speckled the forest floor as a warm breeze swept through the whispering branches and stirred their myriad leaves. The ephemeral glimmer of fireflies countered the infinite coruscation of the stars overhead.
A solitary personage drifted noiselessly through the trees. A silver aura encompassed her slender figure as she tread softly beneath the moon. Her ivory, unblemished skin only intensified the dark contours of her brilliantly silver eyes. Her hair was long and straight, and possessed a similar hue of silvery white. She was clad in a delicate, white gown that billowed behind her as she moved. She wore no shoes.

Elana was a child of the forest; born to a dryad mother and an elven father. She had never left these sylvan woods. She was but 140 years of age, a mere 20 years, if she were human. Young and naïve, she was carefully sheltered by the forest’s inhabitants. Her stunning beauty was reason enough to hide her from the humans. She was only allowed to wander at night, when she wouldn’t be seen.

Elana gratefully drew in the crisp, night air, relishing each breath. As soon as the first rays of dawn penetrated the horizon, she was to swiftly return home, where she would eagerly await the next sunset. Elana thrived at night. The sun was cruel and merciless. She had heard tales of the barren plains that lay at the forests edge. The nighttime was cool and quiet; undisturbed by the busy happenings of day.

Tonight was especially exhilarating. It was a full moon. Elana swiftly pursued the familiar paths of the forest: unknown to any human. When she finally reached her destination, a thrilling tingle of anticipation flooded through her. Something exciting would happen tonight. Elana could feel it. All her life she had longed for something that wasn’t there. A dark void, waiting to be filled. With what? She did not know. The full moon always engendered something mysterious and new. Perhaps it would help her tonight.

Elana strode quietly into the small clearing she had reached: the very heart of the forest. Here, she had a breathtaking view of the magnificent stars. A cool, crystalline glade sat in the center of the clearing. The water was perfectly still. Elana quickly checked to see no one was nearby before disrobing and wading into the glassy pool. Once deep enough, she kicked off of the rocky floor and allowed herself to float effortlessly on her back, gazing up at the stars. Here, she was blissfully content.