October 15, 2009
Episode 32: Princes and Plans
11:10 PM | 
Posted by
pcbutler |
The air in the abandoned dungeon was cold, stale and smelled of mold and mildew. The skeletons of forgoten prisoners lay sprawled in the corners of rusting cells, flesh and muscle long since stripped from the bone. Most are human but a few have odd animalistic looking skulls. Sounds of lightly placed footsteps come from a stairwell to reveal a tall, slender man in leather armour and helm, gripping his forearm.
"Damn you Argus, that hurt."
He walks to a small table that has some supplies underneath it and pulls a large satchel. He reaches in and pulls out a glass vial with what appears to be a thick grey cream inside.
"This little 'reminder' will make me use the last of my poltice. I swear one of these days, I'm going to break you for good."
As he spreads the cream over his burn he grits his teeth in clear pain. Blisters and burns quickly reduce and fade, leaving only a strange hand shaped redness as a marker of thier existance. He throws the empty vial against a wall, shattering it in anger. He leans back in the chair, breathing heavily. Still in pain, he slowly removes the upper portions of his armour. Intricate beading and jeweling glint in the torchlight, betraying its true age. It falls to the ground in a heap and he takes some deep breathes to regain composure.
The lightness of his skin is pot-marked with scars and other battle wounds, making him appear to be a kind of living puzzle. Scars from swords, axes an other blades cover his back and chest. Other wounds, healed through the passage of time, resemble bite marks from both man and animal.
He leans forward with his hands braced on his helmet. He turns quickly to an abandoned cell, peering into the darkness.
"I've told you before not to come to me like that. Your incessant buzzing and crawling annoys me."
As he reaches for the cell doors, it opens on it own accord.
A voice from inside answers. It has the sound of a thousand voices all speaking ever so slightly out of sync with each other.
"I am zorry, my lord..but it waz nezzezzary to conzeal myzelf from the otherzz..."
As the figure steps into the light of the torch, its form shifts and waves within itself, there, but not quite there. It kneels on one knee in subservience, not quite touching the floor. It keeps what can only be defined as it's head, lowered.
" You requezted my prezzenze Prince Aranhil?"
The prince step forward and removes his helm revealing cropped red hair and the unmistakable points of Elvish ears. Piercings in each ear designate the Princes status in the kingdom of the Elves, what little was left.
"I did at that my servant. Have they arrived in the city yet, Mallus?"
Mallus rises from the ground.
"They have my Lord. There was zome trouble actually getting in, but it waz minor. He iz very adept at what he doez!"
Mallus puts his hands together.
"May I have zome payment now, zire?!"
Aranhil turns and walks back to the satchel. He reaches inside and pulls out a small cut of meat. Steam rises from it in the cold air. Mallus' form wavers and almost looses it consistency in apparent excitement.
Aranhil looks at Mallus in disgust and tosses the meat on the ground in front of the servant. Buzzing and chatter fill the air as Mallus engulfs the reward, his body swarming in several impossible directions.
"You've done well so far Mallus. Go back and keep a close eye on our 'friend' until you hear from me again."
As Mallus rises again, parts of the meat can be seen being absorbed into his body. "Thank you my Lord, thank you!" In an instant his body flies apart and heads for various cracks and openings throughout the cell.
"Yes, I do believe we shall be meeting quite soon. Quite soon indeed." Aranhil heads to a heavily locked door on the opposite wall. He opens the locks and enters a small room with a large chair facing away from him.
"Our plan is falling into place father..."
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