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The Rhyot Break - Chapter One: Endless White
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<blockquote data-quote="Imladir" data-source="post: 7481118" data-attributes="member: 6967536"><p>Faenala was one of the oldest in the slave pits. Or more accurately, she was one who had been in the slave pits the longest, which was an achievement she would have gladly done without. Ten years, ten long years. No one would have given her more than a few weeks, a couple of months at most. But ten years later, she was still there. It hadn't been easy, gods no. Every single day had been hell, no one would have been able to say otherwise.</p><p></p><p>By the time most of the remaining prisoners - she refused to think of herself as a slave - had arrived she had become mostly silent, barely saying a word a week. Part of it was because she had learned early on that even in those conditions, some would try to curry favour with their captors. She hadn't enjoyed that lesson. Mostly though, it had been a way to preserve herself, to strip everything superfluous and keep her core intact, and it hadn't been easy, she had had to make sacrifices. What good was a Wizard who wasn't able to cast spells? Nothing useful when some of the prisoners decided to abuse her. By the time she had learned how to deal with that it had been too late.</p><p></p><p>In the following years, there were only two things that allowed her to keep going: her desire of vengeance against the Korrud, and her family. As long as she'd be able to make all of them pay, she didn't really care what would happen to her afterward. And she vowed that no one would be able to touch her if she didn't agree to it.</p><p></p><p>When she felt her shackles slip away from her ankles, she looked at the woman, squinting. She didn't move straight away, wondering if it could be a trap. After a few seconds, she rose to her feet. Maybe it was a trap, some sort of plot she couldn't understand. But she had to take that chance. Worst case scenario, she'd die and wouldn't get her vengeance. What was there to fear? And if she was really free... She had thought, often in the beginning, about how she'd go about it of course. Not so much in recent years though. It was probably best to take things as they came. She'd follow. She'd see. And she'd look for opportunities.</p><p></p><p>The first thing on her agenda would be to gather a few components to be able to cast the few spells she had memorized, so long ago. Mostly, she looked for fleece or cured leather. Maybe fine sand, but she wasn't too hopeful for that.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Imladir, post: 7481118, member: 6967536"] Faenala was one of the oldest in the slave pits. Or more accurately, she was one who had been in the slave pits the longest, which was an achievement she would have gladly done without. Ten years, ten long years. No one would have given her more than a few weeks, a couple of months at most. But ten years later, she was still there. It hadn't been easy, gods no. Every single day had been hell, no one would have been able to say otherwise. By the time most of the remaining prisoners - she refused to think of herself as a slave - had arrived she had become mostly silent, barely saying a word a week. Part of it was because she had learned early on that even in those conditions, some would try to curry favour with their captors. She hadn't enjoyed that lesson. Mostly though, it had been a way to preserve herself, to strip everything superfluous and keep her core intact, and it hadn't been easy, she had had to make sacrifices. What good was a Wizard who wasn't able to cast spells? Nothing useful when some of the prisoners decided to abuse her. By the time she had learned how to deal with that it had been too late. In the following years, there were only two things that allowed her to keep going: her desire of vengeance against the Korrud, and her family. As long as she'd be able to make all of them pay, she didn't really care what would happen to her afterward. And she vowed that no one would be able to touch her if she didn't agree to it. When she felt her shackles slip away from her ankles, she looked at the woman, squinting. She didn't move straight away, wondering if it could be a trap. After a few seconds, she rose to her feet. Maybe it was a trap, some sort of plot she couldn't understand. But she had to take that chance. Worst case scenario, she'd die and wouldn't get her vengeance. What was there to fear? And if she was really free... She had thought, often in the beginning, about how she'd go about it of course. Not so much in recent years though. It was probably best to take things as they came. She'd follow. She'd see. And she'd look for opportunities. The first thing on her agenda would be to gather a few components to be able to cast the few spells she had memorized, so long ago. Mostly, she looked for fleece or cured leather. Maybe fine sand, but she wasn't too hopeful for that. [/QUOTE]
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