Kole
New Member
It was a warm spring day. The snows from winter had nearly melted, filling the rivers until swelling. The sun smiled down upon the people of Goliath as they went about their day. Slaves toiled in the fields outside of the city while people of all different races and backgrounds bartered their wares, or perused the market. Elves walked gracefully beside even the most savage of hell beasts, chained to the higher demons. Humans were rare in the bustling city, preferring to hide in countrysides.
Tameron Len Dizani listened closely to the sounds of the city, blocking out the moans of his fellow inmates. It was his only solace these past four years as his body slowly died in this hell. To listen to the sound of carts making their way through the streets, the familiar sound of a hammer coming down hard on a piece of iron, he could almost convince himself that he was home once again, that the last four years had all been some awful nightmare. Tameron knew it was futile. He knew that sooner or later he would have to open his eyes and the spell would be broken, but that brief respite was all he had.
He opened his eyes and watched a drop of water roll down the dirt encrusted wall opposite him. He hadn't been given any water in near five days. He was tempted to lick the putrid stone or try to work his hands through the small barred window in the upper corner of his cell and beg the passerby's for just a sip of the sweet liquid, but he wasn't thirsty enough yet to do so. He would wait for as long as he could before resorting to such an act. It wasn't pride that halted him, for he had done the very thing countless times before. It was the pain he knew he would receive for such an act, as well as the fruitlessness of it. Even if someone noticed his beginning hands, no one would help. The people of this world were as cold as their harsh winters. And for his indiscretion, he would be punished. The guards would burst into his cell when they heard of what he had done, and they break both of his begging hands. He knew how they delighted in holding down his wrists and smashing his hands with a club until the bones shattered and he passed out. Then they would leave again, pleased with the job they had done. Tameron flexed his hands from the remembered pain. They had yet to completely heal from his last punishment and ached with every move. He knew, even if he got out and managed to see a healer, that his hands would never be as they were. His body would never be the same. He had once been a giant. All of his family were large, but he had once had muscles lining every inch of his tanned skin. He had lost so much weight these past years, that he feared his own family would not recognize this pale sickly man if he were to appear on their doorstep. His hair was greasy and brushed his shoulders when he usually kept it cropped close to his head, his dirty beard hid his bruises. Though he hadn't looked in a mirror since he came here, he knew his eyes must be distant and glazed. Still, even starving, he knew he was better off than some. The starvation and beatings by the guards had reduced some to mere ghosts of themselves.
As if drawn by his thoughts, he heard a guard shuffle down the hall, slowing as he neared Tameron's cell, then stopping altogether just outside of the door. There was a small slit near the bottom of the solid metal door where food would be shoved inside and he saw a pair of heavy boots through it. The guard seemed to rifle through a ring of keys before choosing the correct one. He knew from experience that those keys and the locks they fit with were spelled to make them near impossible break. The guard hesitated before shoving the key into the lock and turning it slowly.
Halia Naava Travitte glanced around, her gaze cold enough to freeze the sun. She paused upon seeing the number of elves in the city and sneered. Her people were the dark elves and had long ago broken away from those pathetic wood and high elves. Rage burned deep within her and she drew power from it. Her palms seemed to tingle with the magic that she wished to release on them. She could level the entire city if she so wished and the thought of lesser elves bodies among the ruins filled her with pleasure. With a single spell she could burn the city and salt the earth so that nothing would ever grow here again. Halia clenched her fists. She had a job to do here and hadn't the time to destroy the city. She smiled when she remembered why she had come to this city, rather than staying in her home. Her people lived in stone caverns, far beneath the surface of this world. She longed to return there. The sun felt alien against her light purple skin. The wind whipped her long white hair and black robes about her.
It was unlike her to harbor such thoughts, either of the destruction, or of her home. She was not a child and had long ago gained control over her emotions. She figured it must be her revenge, looming so close, that caused this unbalance. She had dreamt of this revenge for so long and she was so close she could weep, as she hadn't for over a hundred years, refusing such weakness even when her world was destroyed. The only thing she had ever cared for, the one thing she would have died to protect snuffed out like some lesser being.
The castle in the center of the city loomed high above her. The prison was to her right a ways, but even as her feet itched to head there, she knew her job. She had to go to the castle. Had to assist the fools there. Sunlight seemed to dance off of the castle walls. Some might find it beautiful. Halia felt only anticipation for who she would find inside this city and the pain she would inflict upon him. Today, her dreams would come true, and she could finally find peace...
Tameron Len Dizani listened closely to the sounds of the city, blocking out the moans of his fellow inmates. It was his only solace these past four years as his body slowly died in this hell. To listen to the sound of carts making their way through the streets, the familiar sound of a hammer coming down hard on a piece of iron, he could almost convince himself that he was home once again, that the last four years had all been some awful nightmare. Tameron knew it was futile. He knew that sooner or later he would have to open his eyes and the spell would be broken, but that brief respite was all he had.
He opened his eyes and watched a drop of water roll down the dirt encrusted wall opposite him. He hadn't been given any water in near five days. He was tempted to lick the putrid stone or try to work his hands through the small barred window in the upper corner of his cell and beg the passerby's for just a sip of the sweet liquid, but he wasn't thirsty enough yet to do so. He would wait for as long as he could before resorting to such an act. It wasn't pride that halted him, for he had done the very thing countless times before. It was the pain he knew he would receive for such an act, as well as the fruitlessness of it. Even if someone noticed his beginning hands, no one would help. The people of this world were as cold as their harsh winters. And for his indiscretion, he would be punished. The guards would burst into his cell when they heard of what he had done, and they break both of his begging hands. He knew how they delighted in holding down his wrists and smashing his hands with a club until the bones shattered and he passed out. Then they would leave again, pleased with the job they had done. Tameron flexed his hands from the remembered pain. They had yet to completely heal from his last punishment and ached with every move. He knew, even if he got out and managed to see a healer, that his hands would never be as they were. His body would never be the same. He had once been a giant. All of his family were large, but he had once had muscles lining every inch of his tanned skin. He had lost so much weight these past years, that he feared his own family would not recognize this pale sickly man if he were to appear on their doorstep. His hair was greasy and brushed his shoulders when he usually kept it cropped close to his head, his dirty beard hid his bruises. Though he hadn't looked in a mirror since he came here, he knew his eyes must be distant and glazed. Still, even starving, he knew he was better off than some. The starvation and beatings by the guards had reduced some to mere ghosts of themselves.
As if drawn by his thoughts, he heard a guard shuffle down the hall, slowing as he neared Tameron's cell, then stopping altogether just outside of the door. There was a small slit near the bottom of the solid metal door where food would be shoved inside and he saw a pair of heavy boots through it. The guard seemed to rifle through a ring of keys before choosing the correct one. He knew from experience that those keys and the locks they fit with were spelled to make them near impossible break. The guard hesitated before shoving the key into the lock and turning it slowly.
Halia Naava Travitte glanced around, her gaze cold enough to freeze the sun. She paused upon seeing the number of elves in the city and sneered. Her people were the dark elves and had long ago broken away from those pathetic wood and high elves. Rage burned deep within her and she drew power from it. Her palms seemed to tingle with the magic that she wished to release on them. She could level the entire city if she so wished and the thought of lesser elves bodies among the ruins filled her with pleasure. With a single spell she could burn the city and salt the earth so that nothing would ever grow here again. Halia clenched her fists. She had a job to do here and hadn't the time to destroy the city. She smiled when she remembered why she had come to this city, rather than staying in her home. Her people lived in stone caverns, far beneath the surface of this world. She longed to return there. The sun felt alien against her light purple skin. The wind whipped her long white hair and black robes about her.
It was unlike her to harbor such thoughts, either of the destruction, or of her home. She was not a child and had long ago gained control over her emotions. She figured it must be her revenge, looming so close, that caused this unbalance. She had dreamt of this revenge for so long and she was so close she could weep, as she hadn't for over a hundred years, refusing such weakness even when her world was destroyed. The only thing she had ever cared for, the one thing she would have died to protect snuffed out like some lesser being.
The castle in the center of the city loomed high above her. The prison was to her right a ways, but even as her feet itched to head there, she knew her job. She had to go to the castle. Had to assist the fools there. Sunlight seemed to dance off of the castle walls. Some might find it beautiful. Halia felt only anticipation for who she would find inside this city and the pain she would inflict upon him. Today, her dreams would come true, and she could finally find peace...
