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Story Hour
The Blade of Phoee (Updated 12/08/08)
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<blockquote data-quote="Funeris" data-source="post: 2426063" data-attributes="member: 22792"><p><strong>Chapter 1: Fate's Weave Continued</strong></p><p></p><p>Gabrielle huddled in the corner of the damp cell she occupied. Outside the barred door, her gear lay unceremoniously next to Aramil’s, along with her clothing. Fresh welts stung painfully, allowing the past hours of torture to be unforgotten. Blood had long congealed along her wounds. She was sure she’d die from some infectious disease.</p><p></p><p>Thankfully, the violators-dressed-as-guards had unbound her from the heavy wooden barrel after their…<strong>administrations</strong>. She shuddered uncontrollably. A feeling of nausea swept through her body and she clutched herself closely. <em>Anything to keep warm</em>, she thought as she groped tighter.</p><p></p><p>Gabrielle had never known such pain. She had been warned. Her protector, the only father she had ever known, had warned her of men. Hargos had rescued Gabrielle from her halfling birthright. Born secretly in a pen somewhere in the orc-blasted territory to the northwest, Gabrielle was shuttled away into the forest by the woodsman. Hargos himself was only half-human, just like Aramil. And Hargos had taken to surviving in the forest by himself with only a lute as company.</p><p></p><p>Hargos had been her father. At least he was, until a band of human soldiers came along and ruined her life. </p><p></p><p>Gabrielle could almost remember that day perfectly despite or maybe because of her current pain. She had awoken to the beautiful sounds of birds chirping happily in the woods. Hargos was supposed to give her another lesson with the lute. But the birds erupted from the trees, leaving an eerie silence. The half-elf left Gabrielle in the hut to investigate. </p><p></p><p>The sound of the birds was soon replaced with the sound of steel carrying soldiers. Gabrielle did as Hargos had instructed her, grabbing all her gear and fleeing. She had taken Hargos’ lute as well, so she could continue the lessons when they met again. That day never came.</p><p></p><p>After waiting for more than a month for Hargos, Gabrielle left broken-hearted to head toward the free state of Aedil. “It was the only place she would ever be safe,” Hargos had claimed. So Gabrielle fled.</p><p></p><p>It was a long journey for a long time. The harshness of reality had left the halfling struggling for food and shelter, until she had met Aramil. Then life had been easier again. She could practice on the lute when Aramil wasn’t grumpy. And she could tell him wonderful tales about Hargos, although more often then not they both avoided speaking of their pasts. Now, they were both trapped in an unrelenting hell of abuse.</p><p></p><p>Captain Lockhart, she thought was his name, had argued with the other guards about their mistreatment. The other guards wouldn’t listen though. Even the mayor had ordered the pair’s clothes given back and abuse ceased. But once he was gone, the guards resumed their fun.</p><p></p><p><em>Men are evil.</em></p><p></p><p>A resounding thud echoed from the cell next to Gabrielle’s. Aramil was still moaning in pain. She knew that moan well after a day in this hell. His mouth had been gagged, much as her own. She was pretty sure he had his own barrel, his own bonds. Thankfully a thin stone wall separated the cells so she would not have to relive her own experiences.</p><p></p><p><em>If only I could reach the lute</em>, she thought. <em>Its not that far…and I could soothe Aramil’s and my own pain. Or maybe a weapon. Aramil’s blade isn’t so far. I should be able to reach it</em>, solidifying her own confidence, the halfing moved toward the edge of her cell. She pressed her face against the cold, iron bars and glanced down the hallway. Still there was only one guard in the dungeon. And he was preoccupied. Gabrielle stretched her arm out.</p><p></p><p>Another sharp crack split the air. Before Gabrielle could react, the guard stepped out of the adjoining cell and spied the halfling’s arm reaching toward the blade. He grunted, shifting his slimy bulk toward her. He stopped adjusting his belt and uniform.</p><p></p><p>Gabrielle retracted her arm in a flash and slid backward from the door. The guard grunted again, while slamming Aramil’s cell door. One final half-conscious moan escaped before a painful silence settled in the dungeon.</p><p></p><p>The evil man fumbled with his keys momentarily. He glanced upward, a malicious gleam in his eyes. “Want som’in hard to hold, do ye? I got som’in for you. Som’in your freak beau coul’nt handle.” The key shifted metallically in the lock until a tiny click signaled the opening of a mechanism. </p><p></p><p>Gabrielle prayed to every god and goddess she had ever heard named for courage.</p><p></p><p>The door swung open.</p><p></p><p>The halfling prayed to Hargos for speed. </p><p></p><p>The guard stepped in and reached to close the door.</p><p></p><p>Gabrielle made one last fleeting prayer to Phoee, the mother of all the gods, for strength. She charged the iniquitous fiend.</p><p></p><p>The cell door slammed shut as the man raised one booted foot to Gabrielle’s face. Gabrielle stumbled backward from the impact, crashing into the stone wall behind. Warm vitae spilled down the bard’s face, from her shattered teeth.</p><p></p><p>“I likes ‘em frisky. Jus’ like yer boyfriend.” The voice was distant. Unconsciousness stretched reality. Before the halfling entered its cool embrace completely, she felt one fat, grubby hand slide up her nude torso.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Funeris, post: 2426063, member: 22792"] [b]Chapter 1: Fate's Weave Continued[/b] Gabrielle huddled in the corner of the damp cell she occupied. Outside the barred door, her gear lay unceremoniously next to Aramil’s, along with her clothing. Fresh welts stung painfully, allowing the past hours of torture to be unforgotten. Blood had long congealed along her wounds. She was sure she’d die from some infectious disease. Thankfully, the violators-dressed-as-guards had unbound her from the heavy wooden barrel after their…[b]administrations[/b]. She shuddered uncontrollably. A feeling of nausea swept through her body and she clutched herself closely. [i]Anything to keep warm[/i], she thought as she groped tighter. Gabrielle had never known such pain. She had been warned. Her protector, the only father she had ever known, had warned her of men. Hargos had rescued Gabrielle from her halfling birthright. Born secretly in a pen somewhere in the orc-blasted territory to the northwest, Gabrielle was shuttled away into the forest by the woodsman. Hargos himself was only half-human, just like Aramil. And Hargos had taken to surviving in the forest by himself with only a lute as company. Hargos had been her father. At least he was, until a band of human soldiers came along and ruined her life. Gabrielle could almost remember that day perfectly despite or maybe because of her current pain. She had awoken to the beautiful sounds of birds chirping happily in the woods. Hargos was supposed to give her another lesson with the lute. But the birds erupted from the trees, leaving an eerie silence. The half-elf left Gabrielle in the hut to investigate. The sound of the birds was soon replaced with the sound of steel carrying soldiers. Gabrielle did as Hargos had instructed her, grabbing all her gear and fleeing. She had taken Hargos’ lute as well, so she could continue the lessons when they met again. That day never came. After waiting for more than a month for Hargos, Gabrielle left broken-hearted to head toward the free state of Aedil. “It was the only place she would ever be safe,” Hargos had claimed. So Gabrielle fled. It was a long journey for a long time. The harshness of reality had left the halfling struggling for food and shelter, until she had met Aramil. Then life had been easier again. She could practice on the lute when Aramil wasn’t grumpy. And she could tell him wonderful tales about Hargos, although more often then not they both avoided speaking of their pasts. Now, they were both trapped in an unrelenting hell of abuse. Captain Lockhart, she thought was his name, had argued with the other guards about their mistreatment. The other guards wouldn’t listen though. Even the mayor had ordered the pair’s clothes given back and abuse ceased. But once he was gone, the guards resumed their fun. [i]Men are evil.[/i] A resounding thud echoed from the cell next to Gabrielle’s. Aramil was still moaning in pain. She knew that moan well after a day in this hell. His mouth had been gagged, much as her own. She was pretty sure he had his own barrel, his own bonds. Thankfully a thin stone wall separated the cells so she would not have to relive her own experiences. [i]If only I could reach the lute[/i], she thought. [i]Its not that far…and I could soothe Aramil’s and my own pain. Or maybe a weapon. Aramil’s blade isn’t so far. I should be able to reach it[/i], solidifying her own confidence, the halfing moved toward the edge of her cell. She pressed her face against the cold, iron bars and glanced down the hallway. Still there was only one guard in the dungeon. And he was preoccupied. Gabrielle stretched her arm out. Another sharp crack split the air. Before Gabrielle could react, the guard stepped out of the adjoining cell and spied the halfling’s arm reaching toward the blade. He grunted, shifting his slimy bulk toward her. He stopped adjusting his belt and uniform. Gabrielle retracted her arm in a flash and slid backward from the door. The guard grunted again, while slamming Aramil’s cell door. One final half-conscious moan escaped before a painful silence settled in the dungeon. The evil man fumbled with his keys momentarily. He glanced upward, a malicious gleam in his eyes. “Want som’in hard to hold, do ye? I got som’in for you. Som’in your freak beau coul’nt handle.” The key shifted metallically in the lock until a tiny click signaled the opening of a mechanism. Gabrielle prayed to every god and goddess she had ever heard named for courage. The door swung open. The halfling prayed to Hargos for speed. The guard stepped in and reached to close the door. Gabrielle made one last fleeting prayer to Phoee, the mother of all the gods, for strength. She charged the iniquitous fiend. The cell door slammed shut as the man raised one booted foot to Gabrielle’s face. Gabrielle stumbled backward from the impact, crashing into the stone wall behind. Warm vitae spilled down the bard’s face, from her shattered teeth. “I likes ‘em frisky. Jus’ like yer boyfriend.” The voice was distant. Unconsciousness stretched reality. Before the halfling entered its cool embrace completely, she felt one fat, grubby hand slide up her nude torso. [/QUOTE]
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