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The Rhyot Break - Chapter One: Endless White
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<blockquote data-quote="97mg" data-source="post: 7485395" data-attributes="member: 6799460"><p><strong>Interlude: Quasp (Unknown Location)</strong></p><p></p><p><span style="color: #FF0000"><img src="http://www.dawnindustry.com/TRBimages/Snake.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></span></p><p><span style="color: #FF0000"></span></p><p><span style="color: #FF0000">“You haven’t met my friend Veinrunner yet, have you?” </span></p><p></p><p>The smirking Korrud turned to open a rusty metal box, atop a small trolley against a moldy stone wall.</p><p></p><p>Quasp had met many people and… things… over the years. He’d suffered more than his fair share too. He’d killed Korrud along the way, in fact he prided himself this. How long would it take the Korrud who’d captured him, to sniff those details out? This wasn’t going to end well...</p><p></p><p>Once a near decade ago, the elven man had fought their land's new imposters, with those of similar inclination out in the forests between the Plains of Or and Reinne town. A resistance group had formed, striking the dwarven threat where local knowledge weighed heavier than numbers. They’d hit supply lines, smashing wagons and caravans, killing the Korrud who manned them. They’d from time to time lurked just beyond the town borders, waiting for small units making their way in. Ah the old days, they’d done so gloriously for a time.</p><p></p><p>Quasp’s mind drifted to a memory of Gimlak. A true beef of a man! Formidable in form and brutal in his ways. But the barbarian was also kind, upholding of virtue, and favored among the locals. He’d been something of a folk hero, actually. Angry and kind, all in one breath.</p><p></p><p>It is strange what you ponder upon when chained to ceiling-rings, your whole body tensed and bruised, your enemy reaching for another tool of the trade. But it was enough to make Quasp smile. Perhaps, out there somewhere, Gimlak was still wielding heavy steel and taking Korrud heads from their owners. </p><p><span style="color: #FF0000"></span></p><p><span style="color: #FF0000">“Where is it from!”</span> The dwarf’s beady black eyes stared into Quasp’s as he questioned him again in the common tongue.</p><p></p><p>The prisoner spat.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: #FF0000">“Well, if you won’t tell me. Veinrunner surely will!”</span></p><p></p><p>A stocky arm waved the implement before Quasp’s face. A small silver object shaped like a serpent. Then it began to twist and writhe in the Korrud's calloused hands.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: #FF0000">“Open your mouth fool, lest I make a new hole for my friend to enter!”</span></p><p></p><p>Quasp looked away to the side, where next to the torturer's tools something red and bright twinkled in the torchlight. It was a ruby the size of a baby’s fist. Winking at him with the color of blood.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="97mg, post: 7485395, member: 6799460"] [b]Interlude: Quasp (Unknown Location)[/b] [COLOR=#FF0000][IMG]http://www.dawnindustry.com/TRBimages/Snake.jpg[/IMG] “You haven’t met my friend Veinrunner yet, have you?” [/COLOR] The smirking Korrud turned to open a rusty metal box, atop a small trolley against a moldy stone wall. Quasp had met many people and… things… over the years. He’d suffered more than his fair share too. He’d killed Korrud along the way, in fact he prided himself this. How long would it take the Korrud who’d captured him, to sniff those details out? This wasn’t going to end well... Once a near decade ago, the elven man had fought their land's new imposters, with those of similar inclination out in the forests between the Plains of Or and Reinne town. A resistance group had formed, striking the dwarven threat where local knowledge weighed heavier than numbers. They’d hit supply lines, smashing wagons and caravans, killing the Korrud who manned them. They’d from time to time lurked just beyond the town borders, waiting for small units making their way in. Ah the old days, they’d done so gloriously for a time. Quasp’s mind drifted to a memory of Gimlak. A true beef of a man! Formidable in form and brutal in his ways. But the barbarian was also kind, upholding of virtue, and favored among the locals. He’d been something of a folk hero, actually. Angry and kind, all in one breath. It is strange what you ponder upon when chained to ceiling-rings, your whole body tensed and bruised, your enemy reaching for another tool of the trade. But it was enough to make Quasp smile. Perhaps, out there somewhere, Gimlak was still wielding heavy steel and taking Korrud heads from their owners. [COLOR=#FF0000] “Where is it from!”[/COLOR] The dwarf’s beady black eyes stared into Quasp’s as he questioned him again in the common tongue. The prisoner spat. [COLOR=#FF0000]“Well, if you won’t tell me. Veinrunner surely will!”[/COLOR] A stocky arm waved the implement before Quasp’s face. A small silver object shaped like a serpent. Then it began to twist and writhe in the Korrud's calloused hands. [COLOR=#FF0000]“Open your mouth fool, lest I make a new hole for my friend to enter!”[/COLOR] Quasp looked away to the side, where next to the torturer's tools something red and bright twinkled in the torchlight. It was a ruby the size of a baby’s fist. Winking at him with the color of blood. [/QUOTE]
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