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Part 21c: The Prisoner
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Part 21c - The Prisoner. by Dworkin (GM)
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Somewhere.
Jack is in a cell. It may be a perfect cube some sixty feet on each side, but it is still a cell.
It may be underground, but it is impossible to tell.
Every square inch of the glass walls, floor and ceiling has light
pouring through it. He is manacled, the glass is as hard as
steel, and there are no shadows. There is no door, it is as if
the cell was built around him, specifically to contain somebody with
his talents.
After an unknown length of time with the brilliant actinic light
searing at his eyes, one of the wheels appears, blinking into existence
up near the ceiling. In this light, the burning wheel appears
almost black.
+ HAOURR NAAACHOCHT HESH NABROLIN VERRICHT. +
The wheel spins faster, then something slams Jack down to the floor...
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Re: 21c - The Prisoner. by Jack
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Jack hit the floor coughing and wheezing, a fine
spray of blood escaping his cracked lips. One side of his face was an
angry bruise if it could have been seen beneath the char blackened
skin. The eye on that side of his face was swollen shut and thankfully
his body was going numb to the pain. He laid there on the floor his
long hair burned in patches, still there was enough hanging down to
cover his face as he winced in pain.
Knowing he could not just lay there
and will them away, they would only slam him around some more. He
finally looked up squinting against the glare with his good eye and
said in a choked harsh breath “W- wee Willie Winkie <cough> runs
through the town, <cough, choke sputter> Upstairs and downstairs
<cough> in his night gown.” It was as good a reply as any to
words that he did not understand. He didn’t expect them to let him into
their minds to understand them and he was certainly not going to let
them in if he could stop it. The knowing smile caressed his battered
countance in the face of this all. A hint of surly rebellion.
A brief image of the being of light, folded in upon it’s
self, feataly defensive as they tried to gather information from it.
It’s crystalline structure holding their combined might at bay.
He prepared to quote The Jabberwocky for his next reply to the forien
language of this thing. Desperately holding onto the Pattern of his
mind for a defense against them reading him and trying to shut out the
pain in his body, without much luck.
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Re: 21c - The Prisoner. by Dworkin (GM)
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+ HAOURR NAAACHOCHT HESH NABROLIN VERRICHT. + the wheel demands again, and the pressure builds on Jack once
more. Not physical pressure, but a mental force he realises,
forcing him to believe that he is being crushed.
A mental force that he can do little to protect himself against.
+ HAOURR NAAACHOCHT HESH NABROLIN VERRICHT. +
Slam...
Pause...
+ HAOURR NAAACHOCHT HESH NABROLIN VERRICHT. +
Slam...
Pause...
+ HAOURR NAAACHOCHT HESH NABROLIN VERRICHT. +
Slam...
Pause...
+ HAOURR NAAACHOCHT HESH NABROLIN VERRICHT. +
Slam...
Pause...
+ HAOURR NAAACHOCHT HESH NABROLIN VERRICHT. +
Slam...
Pause...
+ HAOURR NAAACHOCHT HESH NABROLIN VERRICHT. +...
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Re: 21c - The Prisoner. by Jack
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+ HAOURR NAAACHOCHT HESH NABROLIN VERRICHT. +
Jack writhed on the floor under psycho somatic pain, from the crushing mental blast of mental pressure.
“What do you want!?!” He croaked as the pressure eased.
+ HAOURR NAAACHOCHT HESH NABROLIN VERRICHT. +
Wincing under the pressure it was slowly wearing on his defenses,
Yet in a strange way he was growing numb to it, shutting down.
What do you want!??
"+HAOURR NAAACHOCHT HESH NABROLIN VERRICHT+"
The crushing pressure was driving at him pushing his to the edge, he suspected what they wanted.
WHAT!?!
+ HAOURR NAAACHOCHT HESH NABROLIN VERRICHT. +
Something in him snapped,
What do you want? The last was mental was well, coldly cordial as the knowing grin
remained frozen on his face. He slowly stood and broadcast it again
looking at the flaming wheel. His knees were Jell-O and it was all he
could do to control the shaking, but he did. What is it you want from me? He asked again mentally as his good eye locked on the wheel of fire, a
calculated risk at best. He had to buy himself time and the best way to
do that was to try and communicate with his hosts. Time for what, would
his friends come, he suspected they would but hoped that they would not
walk into this trap. If he knew Kali the hounds of hell could not keep
her away, but she could not stand up to something like this. He prayed
she had sense enough to leave him. These things could kill him, but he
would die before breaking.
As he squinted at it with his good eye he tried to
open up just enough to perhaps catch an understanding of it’s words and
slam his defenses back into place before the next wave of pressure.
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Re: 21c - The Prisoner. by Dworkin (GM)
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The wheel draws away from Jack, back into the higher parts of the
chamber, circling him and revolving slowly. Then it swoops down
again, stopping just out of rEach of his manacled hands. He can
feel the heat from it prickling against his skin.
+ HAOURR NAAACHOCHT... YOOU NABROLIN... SENDED? +
+ HAOURR NAAACHOCHT... YOU... DID SEND? +
+ WHO... WAS... IT... THAT... YOU DID... SENT? +
+ WHO WAS IT THAT SENT YOU? +
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Re: 21c - The Prisoner. by Jack
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Jacks chest heaves and sweat rolls
down him mixing with blood, his long hair hangs limp . “The Broken
God!” He says fixing the image of the one eyed man in his mind. He’s why I am here. he though to himself. Hiding away everything about him and his friends
deep inside of himself. There he locked the thoughts and the memories
away. “Who are you!?!”
The knowing smirk still rested on his face, though
at best it was a twisted broken parody of what anyone had ever seen of
him before. Yet there was a hint of amusement as if he had a private,
painful joke. Grim determination and a focus held it there more then
anything else. He wanted to flinch back from the heat and
ht painfully warmed his tender burns and bruises.
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Re: 21c - The Prisoner. by Dworkin (GM)
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+YOU LIE. BROKEN GOD DID NOT SEND YOU. HE HAS NOT TOLD US THAT ANOTHER OF HIS KIND WOULD COME HERE. + The wheel spins faster, and again the psychic pressure slams Jack into the floor.
+ WHY ARE YOU HERE? WHO SENT YOU? +
Up above, near the ceiling, another wheel blinks into view. This
one is different. It glitters darkly as it descends, and the
surface of it looks rough and almost fluid, without any of the fiery
glow of the other one.
As it gets lower, Jack starts to rise to his feet and sees why it looks so strange.
It is not solid.
Instead it is composed of tens of thousands of separate metal slivers
and blades, every one of them orbiting at its own speed, and every one
of them needle-pointed or razor-edged...
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Re: 21c - The Prisoner. by Jack
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Rising from another painful wave after he had finished
coughing up blood again. The knowing smile on his lips became a little
more real for an instant, they had given him a bit. They had confirmed
that the Broken God was in this up to his eye ball. Now if he
only made it out of this one alive, he thought as he watched this new
wheel growing closer and closer. “Death by Quasenart!” Jack gasps
trying to hold up and keep good humor.
It didn’t work; the fear in him was all too
real resonating in the pith and marrow of his soul. He leaned against
the wall for support half cowering back in spite of trying to
keep a brave front. His manacled hands came up defensively in front of
him and he called out. “No! You do not understand! I am alone! I came
following the Broken God! I seek to Join his cause!” It was
desperate, then again so was he and getting more desperate by the
second.
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Re: 21c - The Prisoner. by Dworkin (GM)
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The original wheel rises into the air again, giving the newcomer space
to drop down and surround Jack. Then it narrows and elongates
into a cylinder until the man is surrounded by a man-high wall of
blades, rotating less than two feet from him.
Each blade turns until the sharpened surfaces are all facing inwards.
Jack's friend descends to hover just above him. + HOW DO YOU KNOW OF BROKEN GOD? WHAT DO YOU KNOW OF BROKEN GOD? +
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Re: 21c - The Prisoner. by Jack
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Now that Jack was forced away from the wall
his shaky legs could not hold him and he sunk down to his knees. He
looked up pitifully ring upon ring of deadly instruments in
a cylinder of promised pain . Topped by his flaming tormentor. He knew
if he were Cyan or Kali he could fight his way out, but he was not.
Then again that was for the best, they would not have been able to take
the mental abuse. He had to use his mind.
“Cylla told me little to nothing,
but I followed her and learned a little more. I do not know much of The
Broken God, only that he stands against the Amber Men. I have no great
love of the Amber men, so my enemies must be my friend. Spare me I just
wanted to help!” Half truths all, but enough to justify what he said.
Jack tried to read the intentions of the wheel of blade, he had to move and fight mentally before it struck if it was going to. Good-bye Kalika my love He though I am the wrong man for the job and I always was
Would they erect a spire to him like they did Ares? Would they even
ever find whatever was left of him after this? Or would he just die
another shadow of the reality of Amber, remebered by none? You tried
Jack, but you never had what it takes to make it, not as a prince and
not as a shadow.
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Re: 21c - The Prisoner. by Dworkin (GM)
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The circle of blades tightens menacingly for a moment, the expands
again, but Jack cannot tell if it is back to its original
diameter. The heat intensifies as the burning wheel howls more
questions at him...
+HOW DID YOU COME HERE? FEW KNOW THE WAY. +
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Re: 21c - The Prisoner. by Jack
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“If there is a way I can find it!”
Jack shouted hoarsely guarding his mind with everything he had now.
“The shadows and darkness are my friend, they lead the way any where I
want to go. Anywhere there is shadows, anywhere there is darkness!” As
Jack spoke his mind moved silently behind the bastions and battlements
of his guarded mind, no longer trying to read his captors. His
desperation had hit rock bottom, and he started doing the most
desperate thing he knew he could do. Talking all of the while to
buy himself time. With each step on the pattern of his mind he
felt the pressure build. As he approached the massive pressure of the
first veil his foot fell on the black crack and he slid to another
path. He walked ever closer to the center of his pattern, and freedom
or doom. Desperate times, desperate measures.
“I couldn’t tell you the way, only show you the
shadows lead the way. But the shadows wouldn’t talk to you with all of
your fire and light. You must let me lead you, if not then you’ll never
know how to guard the path against the gathering dark. The shadows know
the way. . . The shadows know- ” he babbled hoping they would just
listen as each step drew him closer to the center of his pattern.
So it was that he continued speak quickly and incoherently until they
either interrupted or he made it to the eye of the pattern.
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Re: 21c - The Prisoner. by Dworkin (GM)
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+IF THERE IS A DARK PATH TO BRING YOU HERE THEN IT IS ALREADY GUARDED WELL ENOUGH. WE CAPTURED YOU. + the wheel roars in triumph. + THERE IS NO DANGER FROM THAT DIRECTION. THERE ARE MANY OF US AND MORE THAN MANY. +
For a brief moment it is as if Jack can see the whole world beyond his
cell filled with wheels of heat and light and steel. Uncountable
hordes of them, and every one watching him.
Then he staggers backwards under a lash of mental energy, and in an
instant, a thousand razors reduce his shirt to tatters, and slice his
back into bloody ribbons of flesh.
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Re: 21c - The Prisoner. by Jack
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Even as Jack fell back into
the whirling blades wheeling from the mental blow he called out the
word SHAGSK! Trying desperately to hold the image of the pattern in his mind. The
word of power became a scream of anguish as the blades shredded first
shirt then flesh. A fine spray of blood was thrown into the air,
shrouding Jack in a halo of ruby mist. Even as the walls of the tube
were painted crimson.
Jack fought to shut out all else even a he
pitched forward from the pain. Nothing mattered but the last steps to
the center of his pattern. Yes it was a curse, a twisted monkeys paw
wish that was his only hope of salvation. Even as he rebounded forward
into what would be certain death in the whirling blades, he felt the
brown shadows of unconsciousness folding in on him. Even as his screams
echoed he put everything he had left in him into a last desperate bid
to the center of his pattern via the breaks. The only thought on his
mind, the only wish and desire to be teleported safely to Kalia. His
screem carrying on his lips the entire way.
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Re: 21c - The Prisoner. by Dworkin (GM)
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Jack stumbles forward towards the wall of blades, his concentration
breaking, under the torment of the pain across his back.
Fortunately the cylinder expands so that he falls onto the floor rather
than onto the moving metallic barrier.
For a few moments there is no sound save the crackling of flames and the hissing of knives cutting through air.
Then, +IMPRESSIVE. PERHAPS THERE IS TRUTH IN WHAT YOU SAY CONCERNING THE DANGER POSED BY YOUR KIND. WE SHALL SEE. +
The ring of knife blades expands further, out to the very limits of the
chamber, leaving Jack laying in a slowly spreading pool of blood.
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Re: 21c - The Prisoner. by Jack
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Even as Jack pressed for the fleeting hope
of the center of his Pattern, the pain overwhelmed him tearing the
image away from him. He fell forward, eyes closed waiting for the bite
of blades, a bite that never came. He never even felt himself land with
a wet sound on the floor, and the brown tinge at the edges of his
vision rushed in. The world was distant and unreal as he fought off
unconsciousness by force of will.
He didn’t know how long he lay there, it
could have been hours or days when the wave of brown at the edge of his
vision receded. It had been so tempting to give in and just rest, so
very tempting to just let go. The only thing he could compare it to was
when he had been hunting as a teen and gotten lost in a winter storm.
After being out in single digit for the better part of a day, it had
been so tempting to just lay down in a snow bank and go to sleep. The
soft snow looked so comforting despite being certain death. The only
think that kept him going is he would probably die if he did not. . .
Or worse, betray his friends.
Slowly the world swam back into focus, pain. . .
unbelievable pain, his back felt like every nerve was on fire. The
words of the wheel all of it became clearer, but he didn’t know how
much longer he could hold on. So very tempting just to sleep. Jack’s
good eye looked up searching the room and taking the situation in. He
spoke trying to shout at the burning being before him, it came out only
as a broken whisper.
"you bastard. . . I'll show y. . . danger. . ."
He realized that he may have already betrayed the group. These things
and the other being of light they had met did not consider them a
danger. They were beneath these beings in their arrogance, much like
the Amber men. Now the dangers of the Seekers was worth
investigating. Yes Jack had betrayed them, he had lost them their
chance of surprise. Now the war would be worse then ever, even if he
didn’t live to see it. Just laying down and dying seemed
more tempting then ever, before he betrayed them again. Instead he
quietly gathered what strength he had left.
There wasn’t anything else he could do. He couldn’t reach his back to
staunch the bleeding, he could not become a shadow and find any
darkness to heal. He had to bide time, wait and choose his best moment
to act. Hoping he woild be alive and concious when that time came.
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Re: 21c - The Prisoner. by Dworkin (GM)
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A second burning wheel appears in the cell, which is now starting to
become oppressively hot. Jack's flayed back is burning as sweat
trickles down and into the cuts.
The two wheels circle each other, howling and braying, then both
descend towards Jack. The wheel of blades expands further,
slipping outside the cell in every direction until it is gone
completely...
+ WHERE DID YOU COME FROM? +
+ WHY HAVE YOU COME HERE? +
+ HOW MANY OF YOU KIND ARE IN YOUR HOME? +
+ WHERE DID YOU COME FROM? +
+ HOW MANY OF THOSE ARE FIGHTERS? +
+ HOW MANY OF YOU KIND ARE IN YOUR HOME? +
+ SPEAK TRUTHFULLY AND YOU WILL BE SPARED? +
+ HOW MANY OF THOSE ARE FIGHTERS? +
+ WHY HAVE YOU COME HERE? +
+ SPEAK TRUTHFULLY AND YOU WILL BE SPARED? +
+ WHERE DID YOU COME FROM? +
+ WHY HAVE YOU COME HERE? +
+ HOW MANY OF YOU KIND ARE IN YOUR HOME? +
+ WHERE DID YOU COME FROM? +
+ HOW MANY OF THOSE ARE FIGHTERS? +
+ HOW MANY OF YOU KIND ARE IN YOUR HOME? +
+ SPEAK TRUTHFULLY AND YOU WILL BE SPARED? +
+ HOW MANY OF THOSE ARE FIGHTERS? +
+ WHY HAVE YOU COME HERE? +
+ SPEAK TRUTHFULLY AND YOU WILL BE SPARED? +
The wheels circle him, even as the questions loop back on themselves,
and with every question Jack is buffetted back and forth between the
two by waves of heat and pressure.
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Re: 21c - The Prisoner. by Jack
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Jack lay there on the floor
face down, he could not reach his raw tattered back to eas the
bleading. Nothing he could do to help it, no healing shadows in the
harsh glare. He was as helpless under whe wheels intense heat as a
turtle on it’s back under the mid day sun. He did not know how long he
could withstand the seering phisical pain combined with the torent of
mental pressure that came with each question. Yet he couldn’t
make it stop, so he did the only thing he could. The only thing he
could to to protect his friends from his own weekness.
He used the pain, knowing that trama
victimes some times forgot. He focused his psyche inward, knowing he
did not have time to do this cleanly if it worked at all. He lashed out
at his own mind with psyche and the dark well, trying to destroy his
own memeories of his friends, his quest, his family, his homeland.
Mentaly driving his psychy like a weapon against each one, using his
own pain and his hatred of these belings to hone his wepon of choiceto
a razor fine edge. He could not tell what he could not remeber.
Trying to uttely destroy each memeory, leaving only primal aspects of
himself to survive and get by. Gut instincts to guide him, his
feelings, his intuitive knowledge of his powers and kills. He would not
betray his friends again if he had anything to say about it. Yet these
things he would need to live. . . If he lived.
Each wave pf pressure and pain caused him to imirse his mind deeper in the Dark Well and strike it harder with his psyche.
EEEEEAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!
Jack collapsed. . .
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Re: 21c - The Prisoner. by Dworkin (GM)
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+ QUERY DESTROY IT AND DISPOSE? +
+ NO. KEEP IT HERE. +
+ WHY? IT HAS NO MIND AND IS USELESS NOW. +
+ IT DESTROYED ITS OWN MIND. THIS INTRIGUES ME. PERHAPS IT IS A RUSE. +
+ IT DOES NOT LOOK LIKE A RUSE. +
+ PERHAPS NOT. IN WHICH CASE IT MAY STILL BE USEFUL AS BAIT TO TRAP ANY WHO WOULD COME TO RESCUE IT. +
+ YOUR WISDOM IS JUSTIFIABLY FAMED URIEL. +
+ THAT IS SO. +
The two wheels flare and hurtle out through a wall as if it is not
there, and in a very real sense, to them at least, it isn't...
The shell which once housed Jack lays on the floor of the cell, lit
from every angle so that there are no shadows. Dull eyed and
empty faced, a stream of saliva flows from his mouth to pool beneath
his cheek, and his only movements are those caused by his ragged
breathing...
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