Vanished

Vanished

Postby Rattrap » Tue Jul 01, 2003 5:06 am

Private Giles Corey stepped down into the dank basement of the Gaol. It was a new building, and if it hadn't been for the flood, the basement level might've had some semblance of comfort, or at least the same respect as the floor above. One couldn't really call cold, dark stone comfortable, but at least before it wasn't wet cold dark stone.

Torchlight flickered as he passed. The place was still too dark. He'd have to petition for more torch lighting. Then again, it wasn't that necessary. There were very few prisoners down here; something like five or six or so, and most of them died in the flood.

So the private was really only down here specifically for one prisoner, and just to make sure the basement of the Gaol wasn't used to make a new gateway to hell.

Every foot fall made an echoing splat. He hated coming down here. At least he hadn't found that gateway to hell, yet. None of the shadows had quite tried to eat him, either. Only a matter of time around here, it seemed.

Pvt. Corey paused in front of the only occupied prisoner's cell, peering into the darkness. The torches were oh-so-conveniently placed on either side of the cell, illuminating really none of it and just casting deeper shadows and glare. He scanned the darkness, but didn't make out the prisoner. He thought it was sort of off in the first place that the man inside - Giarc Conry - hadn't outburst at the first sign of the guards' coming. He did at every other patrol. The man was a sick dog; covered himself in his own fecal matter a few months back. Giles wondered why they just didn't throw him into the lake, bounds and all.

He frowned, awaiting the sudden clash against the bars and getting none. The private turned away, taking one of the torches from its nook and returning. Now he knew why Giarc hadn't acted as he usually had done; Giarc wasn't there.

There was blood on the wall, alarming at first until the private made out some of the words - it was elven, and Giles was just learning it. 'Blood' and 'fall' was all he needed to make out before he started running upstairs.

"Captain! Lieutenant! We've got a problem - Giarc Conry's gone! And we've got another message in blood down there!"

Blood upon the wall -- how many shall fall? slowly coagulated on the basement cell wall.
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Postby Giarc Conry » Thu Jul 03, 2003 3:02 pm

Giarc Conry lied silently in the tall grass. The dew of the morning covered his naked form like a blanket that offered no warmth.

Finally, he stirred.

He was still in the middle of nowhere, and only a mile from the place where the strange portal delivered him. He barely remembered the night before. He had run as far as he could, as quickly as he could, until he passed out in exhaustion.

Giarc pulled his knees up under him. He ran his hand over his patchy hair as he raised his head to study his surroundings. He was in the woods. Somewhere. Naked. Hungry. Cold.

Giarc slowly rose to his feet, the shackles shifted on his ankles, the chain that had been between them, broken, most of the links left behind in his cell. As Giarc turned his eyes toward the sky, getting his bearings, he scratched himself. He had no idea whether he was north or south of Myrkentown...but he knew that Amasynia was north...so that was the direction he would go.

His bare feet, pocked with the beginnings of sores, waded through the grass and patches of corn lilies. His stomach roared and belched beneath taught frame and his protruding ribs, which displayed his malnourishment. And despite it all...he grinned from ear to ear. At least, he appeared to. For where the knife had cut his cheeks from the corners of his mouth to his jawbone, where the blade could go no further, a thick scar grinned.

And God save anyone who was unfortunate enough to get a close look at that grin.
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