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Escape


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#1 Guest_cprefect_*

Posted 22 October 2002 - 08:45 PM

Not much by the way of proofing, let me know what y'all think.


The prisoner saw her captor on a daily basis, though she chose to stay in the safety of her mind. A place where she could remember her father, where he would visit with her. Tell her not to lose faith

Away from the pain, that her jailer insisted on inflicting, trying to draw out the beast, the darkness that hide in the recess' of her mind.

She knew what it was, the madness that threatened to take over, and would one day succeed, it lay in wait like a cat patiently desiring the helpless mouse. Oh yes, her resolve would fail of that she held no doubts, time was her enemy here.

Her resources for keeping it at bay were being drawn thin, her prayers to the Lord of fury going unanswered. She began to question her own faith, had she finally lost all hope of redemption? Had her hatred finally sent her over the edge, giving into the beast's wonton desire, condemned her soul finally to the abyss?

Her hate for the man who did nothing more than use her to test the sharpness of his many assortment of find blades, for his unique gift of pain.
She knew that hate and anger are what fed the darkness in her soul, and the beast feasted, growing fat on her weaknesses.

She had no idea what knowledge the warden sought; he never questioned her. Always he came and caused pain, then when she was sure she could not survive one moment more, the blessed darkness would overwhelm her, drawing her back to the safety of her dreams, to a time before she lost Gorion, before she left candle keep.

Today, was another day in the care of her tormenter, she didn't know about her friends. She was beyond fearing for their lives, praying only to Torm that their deaths were quick and merciful. The pain still rattled through her chest with each hard fought breath she won, drawing in to her lungs.

She could still see the creature, for no man would ever subject another to such. Hovering over her, bloodied knife; dripping from another goring. As with any other time she lay sprawled, unable to escape, defiantly trying not to cry out when the blade sliced through her flesh, with the welling of blood, so came her hate and anger feeding the darkness.
The face she had come to know and vowed she would never forget, remained emotionless, bland, almost bored with the experiments.

The beast in her soul howled for release, promising to bring retribution on their tormentor. The darkness begged her, to loose it on the wizard and all would be made right.
Only her faith, in the lord of fury kept her from losing all control. Along with the knowledge of what the darkness wanted in return, and that price was too high the cost: her very soul.

She wasn't aware of how long the mage toyed with her, before he finally spoke. Fighting to remain conscious, long enough to know what he wanted, for the jailer could only be a man; his voice a rich cultured baritone.
'Ah child of bhaal are you ready for more experiments?'

Narrowing her eyes at him, she mouthed the only word she could think of 'why?'

The wizard regarded her with an abject fascination as she weakly pushed her battered body to hang on the rungs of her cell door. After all the time he spent with her, she should have been a blubbering simpleton, as many of his other subjects were.
Yet this is where she was different, stronger, a well of untapped power.

She showed more promise, dealing with the experiments day after day, though she would have to be groomed more, to develop that potential. A grim smile replaced his emotionless mask, 'you have much untapped power.' He watched her shake her head, still defiant to the end.

Electricity arced from the mages hand; passing through her body, burning her senses, feeding the darkness, as it howled in the furthest reaches of her mind, seeking release.
The last conscious thought to pass through her mind as the darkness overwhelmed her, 'hate mages'.

'Now there isn't time child' the hushed voice of her father urged her to keep up; there was a certain urgency in his voice, under laid with dread. She had the sinking feeling in her stomach that what ever they were fleeing from was already upon them.


'You must go,' his voice was gruff. As he stopped to stand beside her, in the woods out side of her former home the library fortress Candlekeep 'You are not supposed to be here.'

'But,' she protested grabbing his robe, 'papa, I don't want to go.'
Eyes brimming with love and pride, a look she hadn't seen since, When? The old sage, patted her arm 'others depend on you now.' She knew the truth of his words, felt them beating in her breast. But that didn't alleviate her pain at her loss.

His knarled hands were as she remembered them strong and warm, always warm. 'Now my child' he pushed her gently towards the semidarkness, a place she shied away from. The place where her tormentor dwelled, the place of blood, pain and death.
'You don't have much time.' Gorion turned taking her face in his hands, 'you must Wake up!'

'Elrien, wake up.' She fought the pain throbbing in her skull, a thousand tiny daggers sticking her. 'Elrien, come on we have to get out of here.'
'Go away Imoen.' Elrien unable to open her eyes swatted, where she thought the voice had come from, only to meet thin air, and stars as the pain lanced through her body from the movement.

'Hurry up, Elrien,' Imoen begged, pulling her up by her shoulders, 'we can't have much time'
Time, there it was again. Gorion's warning instantly woke up Elrien. She scrambled to stand on shaky legs, leaning on Imoen to help support her wait. 'How?"

'Have you found her, Imoen?' the brusque tone could only mean Jaheria was close.
'By Sylvanis!' the druidess cursed, shaking the door to her cell. 'Imoen!'

'Gods Jaheria, I'm trying to get her moving,' Imoen through over her shoulder in a harsh rushed whisper, 'come on elri'

'Gorion,' the paladin stuttered, the wave of memories threatened to draw her under. Waking up in this prison, only to be toyed with, tortured. "Dear Torm!"
She held tightly to Imoen, as she pushed through the onslaught of pain, garnering control of her body.

Hearing the sibilant evil darkness whisper, sliding around her mind always there, waiting for the moment it could seize control.

"Imoen," Elrien looked up at her foster sister, seeing her face, pale frightened hazel eyes ringed with dark circles staring back at her. 'Torm she looked horrible.'

"Are you all right now?" Imoen patted the warrior on the back, drawing her back to the here and now. Elrien nodded giving a fierce hug to the mage, "let's get out of here."

Standing unassisted for the first time in weeks, owing all to the loud protests of weaken muscles. She was wounded from the last round of experiments; with no healing prayers to aid her she followed the mage reluctantly.
:lol:




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