Closed Of Charred Flesh and Rattled Chains

One Azhak Taldat takes a pair of warden initiates to the Prairie to assist in one of his experiments.

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An undead citadel created before the cataclysm, Sahova is devoted to all kinds of magical research. The living may visit the island, if they are willing to obey its rules. [Lore]

Of Charred Flesh and Rattled Chains

Postby Belugnir on May 7th, 2017, 12:36 pm

3rd of Spring, 517 AV, the Prairie:

For a few days now, Einar went up and about, asking multiple pricking sorcerer wannabe's for directions on how to find a warden of importance or apply to become one himself. Most of the buggers simply laughed him off, though eventually, after frustration led him to kindly threaten one spineless apprentice with tearing their rotten face off, he was pointed to this wasteland the mages called 'Prairie', where, after an ordeal of an afternoon's time of searching, he finally met one Riyanna Sterder, who sent him off to assist with some big-shot wizard's supposed project in the nearby field before he could ask a proper ''What the hell?''.

Azhak Taldat stood upon the wasted fields, holding in his hand the chain which ended in the shackle around an Akalak slave's neck. The wizard impatiently looked out into the distance, obviously expecting someone. His frustration finally gave way to the preparation of an irritated yelling session when he spotted a worn grey cloak approaching, with a robust weapon in hand none the less. It couldn't have been anyone but one of the warden initiates he requested, and he requested wardens in the first place because the sort of work that he had in mind didn't require one to know the first things about sorcery, instead it needed muscle, something that half rotten pansy Nuit apprentices didn't quite have in abundance.

''You took your sweet time, haven't you?'', the mage started lecturing once Einar stood some twenty feet away from him, eyeing the man's worn appearance, the faded scars on his face, and the crude poleaxe in his hand, somehow he didn't look quite like what Azhak expected, yet the sorcerer couldn't put a finger on it. ''Do all the initiates crawl out of a Sunberthian sewer nowadays? Huh?'', unknown to him, the sorcerer had struck quite the nerve with that random insult.

Meanwhile Einar, even though life in Sunberth had taught him how to recognize an individual that's not to be trifled with(And this Azhak fellow fitted that bill perfectly), couldn't help but talk back, as he too was quite frustrated and still a fair deal confused with how the hell he ended up doing what he is doing. However, instinct-driven, rather than speaking in his usual, most juicily vulgar of manners, he tried to imply some of that finer speech his foster fathers struggled so much to teach him as a child. Another thing he decided to do was putting up a little act, with a mind to additionally spite the sorcerer:

''I wouldn't know, sir. Now, I was sent here to assist you, but if my appearance is such a hazard, I shall call for a replacement and go back to hunting that ungodly monstrosity one of your collegues was so kind to let loose.'', Ein gave his best stoic, formal expression, though before he had the time to feel proud of it, a white-blue zap of lightning magic came flying by his cheek. Ein only barely managed to restrain his feet from springing to the side like that of a startled chicken, though multiple chills went down his spine.

''Don't get witty with me, boy, lest you want to take this one's place.'', the sorcerer gestured towards his midnight-skinned test subject, while tossing the end of the chain to his shackle over to Einar to hold, it was unfitting for a wizard like himself to have to pull a petty slave around when he had people to do it for him. ''In fact, if you manage to screw it up and have him run away, I'll be sure to have a brand new chain for you within the day.''

Einar remained quiet now, knowing better than to talk back again. On multiple fronts did the sorcerer manage to dominate him, from the waking bolt of lightning, to injuring his pride, to unknowingly reminding him of his own history of being sold as a slave in Sunberth multiple times. And again, though Sunberth taught him when to learn his place in life, the quiet anger swelling in the lad left a spiteful expression carved upon his face. It was in the following couple of quiet moments that his eyes finally fell onto the Akalak slave. He'd never seen one of those folk up close before, maybe once or twice he noticed their sort being sold by slavers back in Sunberth. That said, this one didn't look like a right slave one bit. His poise, his expression, the calm upon his face... they were almost regal, nothing belike the countless poor, broken bastards he'd passed by on the dusty streets of is hometown. Ein didn't have the time to fully realize he'll likely be involved in torturing this sod when Azhak spoke again.

''Now, where's the other incompetent fool I requested... I don't suppose you'd know where your pesky collegue is at?'', the reimancer asked, frustrated, just itching to zap Einar for real this time should he be brazen enough to talk back again.

Meanwhile, Ein, not fully knowing what the hell the wizard was asking about had to take a moment to reply, and to keep his tongue in check as he did. ''No, sir, I wouldn't know.''

''Of course!'', the wizard swung his hands up dismissively and turned around to start impatiently gawking around the nearby field again, waiting for the second assistant he had requested.
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Of Charred Flesh and Rattled Chains

Postby Sayana on May 9th, 2017, 12:51 am

After a couple chimes, a distant form would be spotted far across the desert plains. It was approaching, that was to be sure, and as it grew nearer it would be clear that the shape was much bigger than a human and approaching much faster.

Sayana had taken the opportunity to do one last good run with Stardust, her white mare, and was ranging about the prairies at a canter or even a gallop. The next day they would both be on board a ship, sailing to the west, with a new adventure to find the fallen star. She rocked in the saddle matching the rhythm of her mount and felt the wind rushing against her face. Dry cacti and tall grasses zipped by and she could hear the heavy breathing of her horse beneath her.

But it wasn’t to last. When she spotted the faint cluster of figures on the prairies she turned her horse to face that direction and approached the party. It was her last task as a warden initiate before leaving to chase after the star. She galloped hard for the last hundred yards and stopped abruptly, causing her horse to rear up a little before its hooves thudded hard against the sandy ground.

“I was told I would be needed this afternoon for some magical experimentation on a slave,” she stated calmly yet in a clear voice as she dismounted.

Her eyes perused the scene. One man stood holding a chain. He was pale, but not quite nuit-pale. He stood proudly, yet the other one had a much more commanding stance with the black robes of a mage and the stark white skin of a nuit. But it was the third man, the slave, which gave her insides a jolt.

Sayana had expected to find a dismal battered down human who would scream and scream at whatever experiment was going to be tested upon him. Yet here she stood facing an Akalak, a man of power and strength not to mention height, who appeared like a living ghost from her past. The test subject was a darker blue compared to her former husband and lover. Deep blue like midnight, and she could tell by his scars on his bare chest that he had endured much.

Her heart involuntarily clenched again as her eyes fell upon the steel collar at his neck and the chain it was connected to. Yet, she maintained a steely gaze to mask her emotions as she addressed the others.

“I take it that this is the test subject that you’d like to remain ‘part of your test’?”

For several ticks she looked over the Akalak, sizing him up. He was in chains, yet still he met her gaze with a hard glare.

For a moment she focused on a beacon of light, the knowledge things might change and a ray of hope. Her lips tingled with energy when she spoke next, and these feelings of hope would emanate from her mouth as she fused the emotion with her hypnotic djed.

“My name is Sayana. Let us begin.” Lingering warmth would be felt upon the slave as hope would grow within. Yet on his face was disgust and even contempt for the Eypharian.

In many ways, it was uncharacteristic of the Eypharian. She had lived a life in which owning a slave had been a goal to obtain status. Yet on this island of death and faced with someone whose race was still close to her heart, her usual resolve wavered.

In turn, the Akalak would seem even more resilient to pain as the tests began. Yet it would only appear so, as he waited with hope in his heart and the promise of change.
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