Post by Avvy on May 19, 2012 1:49:03 GMT -5
The young elf girl shook her head to rid herself of the confusion. She was tired and dazed. What had she done wrong this time. Her temple throbbed, she’d been hit. Why?
“Get off your sorry excuse for an ass you pathetic worm. I hate training elves, they stay young too long and we can’t have any fun with ‘em for years.”
Laughter accompanied a boot to her ribs and she gasped, struggling to her feet. Violet eyes look up at the man. He laughs again and grabs the collar locked around the tiny elf’s neck, dragging her from the blood stained room, shoving her into a small cell, only just big enough for an adult human to lie down, and only the average adult human, too tall and you’d have to curl up, and you would only fit one direction, it was narrow. She didn’t have to worry about that at least. She curled up on the straw strewn in a corner and looked around. No food today. They’d kept her out training past meal time again. With a little silent sob she curled a bit tighter and fell asleep.
A few strands of red hair fell across the pale complexion, getting into her eye. She pushed it back with an annoyed gesture and resumed her work on the lock in front of her. If she wanted dinner tonight she’d have to get this lock open, and soon. Her stomach was growling, but then, it was always growling these days. They never fed her enough, they never actually fed her. She snapped the lock open and grinned triumphantly.
“Don’t look so pleased, elf.”
A new lock was slammed down in front of her and slender shoulders drooped. Another lock…this wasn’t fair. Nobody else had been given another lock. She sighed and grabbed up her tools again, starting to work. If she didn’t, they’d just beat her again.
She sat in the room quietly waiting, she wasn’t close to the doors, she never got there, she was too small, too delicate, to handle those fights. Instead she waited, and she hoped, and prayed. She didn’t pray to any particular god, they weren’t taught that. But she had heard whispers from the other slaves, she knew what the gods were, or sort of, and so, she prayed to those mighty powers, for one of them, any of them, to free her of this nightmare, there had to be something better out there for her. Somewhere.
The doors flung open and in came the men, they held weapons ready as they moved the cauldrons of gruel into the room, then they left and locked the door again, instantly people swarmed the cauldrons, fighting breaking out over the thin, weak food. As they fought she made her move, darting amongst the bodies and fists, her bowl held ready, she scooped up some of the watery food and she didn’t even try to get away, simply put the bowl to her lips and started to eat, she managed to get half the contents of the bowl into her stomach before somebody grabbed it from her and she felt a hand on her throat, the next thing she knew she was soaring above the others and then light blossomed in her eyes. When she woke she was being dragged back to her cell. Her stomach growled in protest.
The Nightflame smiled as she paused at the corner of the street, hidden in the shadows she glanced back as the smoke rose from a dark window, and then it was no longer dark. Voices screamed, people calling for water. All attention was on the fire. She spun and raced down the next street to the target house, skidding to a halt by the back door and out flashed the slender tools of her trade, her elven vision made night lock picking easy, the two humans on her team were waiting nearby, ready to slaughter anyone who interrupted. A soft snap and the lock was open. She pushed the door and nodded, the two humans moved past the elf who then took up guard position. She smiled as she smelled the scent of fire in the air. Fifteen minutes later the three of them were vanishing into the sewers, and then into the secret tunnels that lead to the Guild Hall. They had achieved their goal. They would be rewarded. They walked into the main hall and sank to their knees in front of the man seated in the gilded throne. The drow smirked down at the three of them.
“You did an adequate job. The retrieval was smooth. However, Nightflame, you were seen near the fire. You stopped to look at it again, didn’t you worm?”
“Yes Master…I wanted to be sure it had taken.”
“DON’T LIE TO ME YOU ELVEN FILTH!” He was on his feet in an instant, grabbing her collar in one hand and pulling a whip from his hip with the other. He dragged her across the room to a post. Quick movements had her hands cuffed above her head and the whip swished through the air, cracking as it connected with her backside. “NEVER LIE TO ME!” Again the whip whistled and cracked. “NEVER GET SEEN!” Swish. Snap. “NEVER DISAPPOINT ME AGAIN!” Swish. Snap. “NEVER FORGET TO COUNT YOUR PUNISHMENT!”
Each time the whip landed the slender elf screamed. As he reminded her to count she gasped and began fresh. “One Master, may I have another….Two Master, thank you for correcting me…” On and on she went until she had counted twenty without skipping one, each time she made a mistake, he made her start at one again. After that she was dragged back to her cell room, no food tonight, no blanket for a job well done.
One of the guards had tried to touch her last night. She sat in her cell in confusion. She knew what he had wanted. She had heard about it from the other slaves, but that wasn’t what caused the confusion. It had been the Master’s reaction to the touch. He had snapped the guard’s wrist. Then he had actually had her brought to a private room where he went over her body carefully, making sure she hadn’t been harmed. He had been doing this sort of inspection of her more and more frequently. He had stopped using the whip to punish her, instead tying her up during meal times and forcing her to watch as the other slaves ate, some even threw things at her, jeered and laughed, but never were they allowed too close, never were they allowed to touch. She didn’t understand what was going on. She had heard Master discussing an auction and the prime merchandise that was going to be auctioned off, just for a few nights of course. She didn’t know what he meant.
She rose to her feet and moved to the door. The sounds weren’t right. The screaming was wrong. It wasn’t tortured screams. It was fear, pain, and something else. What was that odd moaning sound? And fighting. Then it went quiet. She tested her door, locked. She shrugged and sat down again. Somebody must have tried to escape. She closed her eyes and drifted to sleep.
Her cell door banged open and the Master walked in. His eyes were a bit wild as he snapped a leash to her collar and yanked.
“Come on Slave, we’re leaving. Now. And stay quiet if you value your life.”
She was dragged out of her cell in confusion and down the hall. The hall…it was wrong…dead bodies on the ground, blood everywhere. Through winding tunnels they moved, through a small crack and they were in what looked to be mining tunnels. Into a small cavern he led her. A few blankets, a tattered mattress. This place wasn’t very homey, but it was still nicer then her cell, even if it did have that cavern chill to it. He pushed her to the bed and grinned feverishly to the small elf.
“Screw saving you for the auction now. I’m gonna taste what we were protecting.”
Lanae sat on the mattress, her clothes strewn in tatters on the dirt floor of the cave. Her master was also strewn across the cave floor. He had become infected with the plague that she had learned was ravishing the land. She had been forced to kill him when he changed. But she had learned how. She was only lucky that she had been there when it happened. As he died she had slammed the dagger through his eye into his brain, then she had stomped on the pommel with all her weight, driving it deep into his head, she couldn’t get the dagger out again. She looked at her bruised body for a moment and grabbed the tattered remains of her clothing and headed for the tunnels. She was hungry. She had to try and get food.
The frail elf had been living alone in the cave off the mining tunnels. The tunnels were safe from the zombies. Occasionally she heard other people running through, at those times she hid, afraid they would hurt her, afraid they would kill her. Her body was getting weaker, her skin was stretched over bone, no fat left on her flesh. She was moving a little slower now.
She had found a fireplace. She lit the little fire, ignoring the bodies strewn about the old building. She huddled close to the flames, fire, her comfort, warmth. Cautiously she nibbled on a bit of stale bread she'd managed to find. A creak, the pale, gaunt face lifted, a man in armour. He pulled his helm off, a smirk on his face as he looked at the girl and advanced upon her.
She was warm now, she had food. There was a collar around her neck, but it was comforting now. It meant she belonged, she was loved. A symbol. Violet eyes close with a contented sigh as the light elf snuggles closer against the masculine body next to her. One red wing drapes across her new Master, her beloved, her Lucien.
“Get off your sorry excuse for an ass you pathetic worm. I hate training elves, they stay young too long and we can’t have any fun with ‘em for years.”
Laughter accompanied a boot to her ribs and she gasped, struggling to her feet. Violet eyes look up at the man. He laughs again and grabs the collar locked around the tiny elf’s neck, dragging her from the blood stained room, shoving her into a small cell, only just big enough for an adult human to lie down, and only the average adult human, too tall and you’d have to curl up, and you would only fit one direction, it was narrow. She didn’t have to worry about that at least. She curled up on the straw strewn in a corner and looked around. No food today. They’d kept her out training past meal time again. With a little silent sob she curled a bit tighter and fell asleep.
A few strands of red hair fell across the pale complexion, getting into her eye. She pushed it back with an annoyed gesture and resumed her work on the lock in front of her. If she wanted dinner tonight she’d have to get this lock open, and soon. Her stomach was growling, but then, it was always growling these days. They never fed her enough, they never actually fed her. She snapped the lock open and grinned triumphantly.
“Don’t look so pleased, elf.”
A new lock was slammed down in front of her and slender shoulders drooped. Another lock…this wasn’t fair. Nobody else had been given another lock. She sighed and grabbed up her tools again, starting to work. If she didn’t, they’d just beat her again.
She sat in the room quietly waiting, she wasn’t close to the doors, she never got there, she was too small, too delicate, to handle those fights. Instead she waited, and she hoped, and prayed. She didn’t pray to any particular god, they weren’t taught that. But she had heard whispers from the other slaves, she knew what the gods were, or sort of, and so, she prayed to those mighty powers, for one of them, any of them, to free her of this nightmare, there had to be something better out there for her. Somewhere.
The doors flung open and in came the men, they held weapons ready as they moved the cauldrons of gruel into the room, then they left and locked the door again, instantly people swarmed the cauldrons, fighting breaking out over the thin, weak food. As they fought she made her move, darting amongst the bodies and fists, her bowl held ready, she scooped up some of the watery food and she didn’t even try to get away, simply put the bowl to her lips and started to eat, she managed to get half the contents of the bowl into her stomach before somebody grabbed it from her and she felt a hand on her throat, the next thing she knew she was soaring above the others and then light blossomed in her eyes. When she woke she was being dragged back to her cell. Her stomach growled in protest.
The Nightflame smiled as she paused at the corner of the street, hidden in the shadows she glanced back as the smoke rose from a dark window, and then it was no longer dark. Voices screamed, people calling for water. All attention was on the fire. She spun and raced down the next street to the target house, skidding to a halt by the back door and out flashed the slender tools of her trade, her elven vision made night lock picking easy, the two humans on her team were waiting nearby, ready to slaughter anyone who interrupted. A soft snap and the lock was open. She pushed the door and nodded, the two humans moved past the elf who then took up guard position. She smiled as she smelled the scent of fire in the air. Fifteen minutes later the three of them were vanishing into the sewers, and then into the secret tunnels that lead to the Guild Hall. They had achieved their goal. They would be rewarded. They walked into the main hall and sank to their knees in front of the man seated in the gilded throne. The drow smirked down at the three of them.
“You did an adequate job. The retrieval was smooth. However, Nightflame, you were seen near the fire. You stopped to look at it again, didn’t you worm?”
“Yes Master…I wanted to be sure it had taken.”
“DON’T LIE TO ME YOU ELVEN FILTH!” He was on his feet in an instant, grabbing her collar in one hand and pulling a whip from his hip with the other. He dragged her across the room to a post. Quick movements had her hands cuffed above her head and the whip swished through the air, cracking as it connected with her backside. “NEVER LIE TO ME!” Again the whip whistled and cracked. “NEVER GET SEEN!” Swish. Snap. “NEVER DISAPPOINT ME AGAIN!” Swish. Snap. “NEVER FORGET TO COUNT YOUR PUNISHMENT!”
Each time the whip landed the slender elf screamed. As he reminded her to count she gasped and began fresh. “One Master, may I have another….Two Master, thank you for correcting me…” On and on she went until she had counted twenty without skipping one, each time she made a mistake, he made her start at one again. After that she was dragged back to her cell room, no food tonight, no blanket for a job well done.
One of the guards had tried to touch her last night. She sat in her cell in confusion. She knew what he had wanted. She had heard about it from the other slaves, but that wasn’t what caused the confusion. It had been the Master’s reaction to the touch. He had snapped the guard’s wrist. Then he had actually had her brought to a private room where he went over her body carefully, making sure she hadn’t been harmed. He had been doing this sort of inspection of her more and more frequently. He had stopped using the whip to punish her, instead tying her up during meal times and forcing her to watch as the other slaves ate, some even threw things at her, jeered and laughed, but never were they allowed too close, never were they allowed to touch. She didn’t understand what was going on. She had heard Master discussing an auction and the prime merchandise that was going to be auctioned off, just for a few nights of course. She didn’t know what he meant.
She rose to her feet and moved to the door. The sounds weren’t right. The screaming was wrong. It wasn’t tortured screams. It was fear, pain, and something else. What was that odd moaning sound? And fighting. Then it went quiet. She tested her door, locked. She shrugged and sat down again. Somebody must have tried to escape. She closed her eyes and drifted to sleep.
Her cell door banged open and the Master walked in. His eyes were a bit wild as he snapped a leash to her collar and yanked.
“Come on Slave, we’re leaving. Now. And stay quiet if you value your life.”
She was dragged out of her cell in confusion and down the hall. The hall…it was wrong…dead bodies on the ground, blood everywhere. Through winding tunnels they moved, through a small crack and they were in what looked to be mining tunnels. Into a small cavern he led her. A few blankets, a tattered mattress. This place wasn’t very homey, but it was still nicer then her cell, even if it did have that cavern chill to it. He pushed her to the bed and grinned feverishly to the small elf.
“Screw saving you for the auction now. I’m gonna taste what we were protecting.”
Lanae sat on the mattress, her clothes strewn in tatters on the dirt floor of the cave. Her master was also strewn across the cave floor. He had become infected with the plague that she had learned was ravishing the land. She had been forced to kill him when he changed. But she had learned how. She was only lucky that she had been there when it happened. As he died she had slammed the dagger through his eye into his brain, then she had stomped on the pommel with all her weight, driving it deep into his head, she couldn’t get the dagger out again. She looked at her bruised body for a moment and grabbed the tattered remains of her clothing and headed for the tunnels. She was hungry. She had to try and get food.
The frail elf had been living alone in the cave off the mining tunnels. The tunnels were safe from the zombies. Occasionally she heard other people running through, at those times she hid, afraid they would hurt her, afraid they would kill her. Her body was getting weaker, her skin was stretched over bone, no fat left on her flesh. She was moving a little slower now.
She had found a fireplace. She lit the little fire, ignoring the bodies strewn about the old building. She huddled close to the flames, fire, her comfort, warmth. Cautiously she nibbled on a bit of stale bread she'd managed to find. A creak, the pale, gaunt face lifted, a man in armour. He pulled his helm off, a smirk on his face as he looked at the girl and advanced upon her.
She was warm now, she had food. There was a collar around her neck, but it was comforting now. It meant she belonged, she was loved. A symbol. Violet eyes close with a contented sigh as the light elf snuggles closer against the masculine body next to her. One red wing drapes across her new Master, her beloved, her Lucien.