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Story Hour
Bitterness Overcome: (Now A Completed Story!)
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<blockquote data-quote="Nonlethal Force" data-source="post: 2963441" data-attributes="member: 35788"><p>Near the back of the building the guards stopped and began to form another circle. The warden approached Ischarus from behind and offered an explanation. <span style="color: Lime">“You’ll want to stand in the middle of the circle, Ischarus. My guards can hold you there by force, of course. But since you have been so compliant up to this point I will offer you the chance to descend into the prison depths of your own accord.”</span></p><p></p><p>Ischarus nodded and silently waited in what he thought to be a circle of guards forming around him. None of the guard had drawn their weapons, but they appeared eager to do so. As he looked towards the guards in formation he realized that their eagerness to draw their weapon was more out of training than personal vendetta against him. They were used to handling criminals who did not desire to go willingly into the depths of the prison. They were trained to be aggressive in holding their prisoner in the center of their circle.</p><p></p><p>The warden stood beside Ischarus and motioned for the captain to join them. Two more guards advanced out of the circle. One of them appeared to be decorated with high honor, and Ischarus assumed he was the personal bodyguard of the warden. The second guard who stepped forward had a large key ring full of keys attached to a metal grommet in his belt. Once the five people were situated in the center of the guards, the guard with the set of keys lifted a single black rod that measured a mere foot long. He touched each of the smaller group within the circle of guards with the rod, saying <span style="color: Lime">“Parzuhs Ahn-takrass”</span> as he touched each person including himself. One by one each of the inner group became translucent and appeared as though they were composed of a misty air rather than solid matter.</p><p></p><p>Seeing the beginning of the jailing take effect, one of the guards in the outside circle lifted up a six inch gray and white rod made of marble. Setting one end of the rod upon the floor and holding the other end in his hand this guard spoke three simple words. <span style="color: Lime">“Biturbign con-Fustle.”</span> A small hole opened in the floor immediately below the five whose bodies had been recently transformed into a far less substantial substance. The five in the center hung over the hole and did not immediately fall through the ground.</p><p></p><p>Once the hole was opened, the guard with the marble rod stood up and lifted a second rod into the air. With a smile toward Ischarus and those around him he gripped the foot-long tapered ivory wand and spoke. <span style="color: Lime">“Shoosh dahs-Cricknohn.”</span> A small gust of wind originated above the five and began to blow down through the hole in the floor.</p><p></p><p>Ischarus immediately felt the uncontrollable movement as the wind blew his insubstantial body into the hole that had opened underneath his feet. His stomach began to turn as he instinctively fought against the movement. There was nothing he could do, however. His insubstantial body of vapor could not resist the gust of air. As his body struggled to understand what was happening around him, he and the others around him descended into the depths below. Ischarus watched the guards around him as he descended and before too long he could only look up at the floor that had now become his ceiling. The hole above him sealed itself as magically as it had appeared and he found himself in darkness.</p><p></p><p>It was the voice of the warden that Ischarus next heard. Warden Farette’s voice did not sound normal, however. It sounded to Ischarus as if the warden was speaking through water to talk to him. <span style="color: Lime">“Ischarus, wish yourself to be solid once more and you will be freed of your condition.”</span> </p><p></p><p>Regardless of how the warden spoke, Ischarus had gotten the message. He mentally focused on reorganizing himself into a solid body and he could feel himself getting cold. As his body took its original shape he could feel the cool and damp air around him. His body took solid shape and he could see the faint light of the torches hung along the wall of the cellblock. Once he was solid again it took his eyes a minute to adjust to the limited light. Eventually he was able to focus once more. <span style="color: LightBlue">“You do that often?”</span> Ischarus spoke as he tried to swallow the nauseous feeling that was slowly creeping up his throat.</p><p></p><p>The guard with the rods spoke with humor in his voice. <span style="color: Lime">“You get used to the feeling and the movement. If you spend any time in our jail you’ll get used to it, too.”</span></p><p></p><p>Ischarus shook his head as the warden stepped down the corridor. <span style="color: Lime">“The cell that you have requested is this way, Ischarus. Three floors down.”</span></p><p></p><p>Ischarus spoke with hesitation, fearing the answer of his captors. <span style="color: LightBlue">“Am I going to have to do that three more times, then?”</span> </p><p></p><p>Warden Farette chuckled as he replied. <span style="color: Lime">“No, Ischarus. Now that we are below ground we use stairs. The means of transporting you through the magic rods are simply to ensure that if anyone manages to break out of their cell they cannot escape the underground prison. The worst that they can do is to travel the many levels of the cellblock and inflict havoc upon the incarcerated.”</span></p><p></p><p>As they walked, Ischarus asked another question. <span style="color: Lime">“So, if prisoners are transported that way every time and all it takes is to wish yourself to be solid, what prevents a prisoner from wishing himself solid too early? Wouldn’t he then drop to the ground earlier than the rest and potentially set himself to hurt the guards as they solidify?”</span></p><p></p><p>The warden stopped and looked back to Ischarus. <span style="color: Lime">“You should remember, Ischarus, that as of this moment you are a prisoner. Asking questions like that will not earn you trust with the guards in this place. You are not here on a tour, and until the captain here deems you worthy of release you should remember your place.”</span></p><p></p><p>Captain Jacobseille answered Ischarus’ question. <span style="color: Lime">“The solution is rather ingenious, actually. You no doubt noticed that to us the hole appeared to be completely open in the floor. Yet, if you were to ask any of the guards up above they will tell you that the hole was not complete. If anything, the hole was a mere shadow of existence within the floor. Thus, if a prisoner wishes to materialize too early, they could find themselves trying to solidify in the floor. If that were to happen, the magic of the spell is designed to automatically expel them violently to the floor below. They would likely be rendered with a significant injury and left unconscious. If they do manage to wait until they have cleared the hole in the floor, then they would fall as rapidly as would be expected of any solid body materializing several feet above solid ground. They would fall to the ground below and likely be injured. Even still, if they do manage to land on their feet free of injury then our guards can rest easy in the knowledge that as long as they maintain their more spiritual nature they cannot be harmed. They need merely separate and force the prisoner to choose one of them to wait and materialize. Any guard that can get far enough from the prisoner to safely materialize can do so and come to apprehend the freed prisoner. Once the prisoner is apprehended the rest of the guards can solidify in safety. It really is a nearly fool-proof process.”</span></p><p></p><p>Ischarus and the guards walked slowly until they came to a flight of stairs. They descended the stairs until the warden indicated that they had gone far enough and opened a door to the proper cellblock. Ischarus walked silently toward his cell, knowing that if his plan had any hope of working he must maintain the image of a caught prisoner.</p><p></p><p>Ischarus was shown his cell. The guard who had all of the keys opened the door for Ischarus and then secured it behind him. Once the warden was satisfied, Ischarus was left in silence. As Ischarus gripped the cell bars along the hall, he noticed something across the hall. A man rested on his cot directly across from where he gripped the iron bars. Ischarus smiled as he noted that the man had flame red hair. Surely this was Grick, the one that had brought this situation upon him. </p><p></p><p>Ischarus could feel an anger building inside him. He struggled inside himself to suppress this anger, knowing that composure was the only hope he had of getting out of his current situation without any doubt of his freedom. He looked down at his right hand. It was turning a light blue shade and he could feel an anger burning deep inside of him. The feeling of energy that he had felt only minutes prior when his friends had come with him to enter the prison had returned. He tried to move his fingers but he found that they were stiff and beginning to freeze to the bars of his cell. Panic quickly pushed the anger from his mind and he brought his left hand over to grasp his right hand. He planned to use his body heat to warm up his right hand. As his left hand touched the bar he realized that both the bar and the hand felt cold as if they were frozen. Ischarus paused for a moment and felt the rest of the bars near where he was standing. He discovered that they remained a normal temperature.</p><p></p><p>Ischarus could hear a chuckle from across the hallway. He responded in a bitter tone. <span style="color: LightBlue">“Did you do this to me, Grick?”</span> His voice raise into a yell as he tried to get his hand free from where it was frozen to the bar.</p><p></p><p>Grick only laughed and pushed his long red hair out of his eyes. <span style="color: Red">“No, but I wish I had. It gives my heart joy to see you suffer like the Provenience-thieving dog that you are!”</span> Grick sneered and rubbed his fingers together quickly. Soon he had another one of his invisible balls of force and he took aim across the dark hallway. Ischarus saw the attack coming and worked hard to free his hand from the bar. His fingers now stretched free, but his palm was still stuck fast to the steel cell bar.</p><p></p><p>This time, Grick landed a successful attack. Ischarus was knocked back from the cell door and he could feel the skin on the palm of his right hand tear away. He quickly glanced up to the bar and saw that he had left a significant chunk of his skin stuck to the bar. He couldn’t bring himself to look at his own hand. The nausea from Grick’s attack had begun to take effect much like it had done earlier on Charis and the town guard. He bent over onto his knees and began to dry heave.</p><p></p><p>Grick could only laugh as he watched Ischarus fall prey to his magical assault. <span style="color: Red">“I’ve got more where that came from you weak human dog. None of you can withstand the greatness of the dragon born. My father dragon will one day amass a new army and take Quehalost by storm. Your intrusion into his plan will only delay the inevitable. It won’t be long before we have slain the Provenience you stole from us and a new one is brought to him. Then you humans will fear my father dragon and his army before him. Quehalost will fall into the control of my dragon father. Then we shall come into Tongra and strike down this place.”</span></p><p></p><p>Ischarus’ body passed through one more cycle of dry heaves upon the floor and then he rested his head on the cool stone floor beneath him. Ischarus began to slowly laugh as the magical sickness from Grick’s attack began to wear off. Although he was laughing, he did not have the strength to look towards his opponent.</p><p></p><p>Grick looked insulted as Ischarus laughed. <span style="color: Red">“What are you laughing at, human dog?</span></p><p></p><p>Ischarus slowly stood to his feet. As the magical sickness wore off, the pain from his hand tore through his mind. He struggled to keep from shrieking in pain and showing himself weak. He turned to Grick and approached the cell bars once more. This time he was careful not to touch them out of fear of having a recurrence of the last incident. <span style="color: LightBlue">“I am laughing,”</span> Ischarus commented bravely through the intense pain of his right hand, <span style="color: LightBlue">“Because you think I am human! My silver father dragon would get quite a laugh at your stupidity you son of a greedy red! You cannot beat me from in here. You cannot further your father dragon’s weak cause from behind these bars. You have failed in your quest! That comment even assumes that the pitiful excuse of a task you were on in the first place could even be called a quest!”</span> By the time Ischarus had finished speaking he was yelling. The yelling was not out of anger, but rather an attempt to hide the intense pain from the wound on his hand.</p><p></p><p>Grick raged from his side of the cellblock. <span style="color: Red">“My father dragon’s cause is not weak! Once we have killed the Provenience that you stole from us and retrieved a suitable female to become the new Provenience in her place then you will see. The force of my father dragon will go unquenched! You shall not stop him!”</span></p><p></p><p>Ischarus could see Grick rubbing his fingers together again. He would have to work fast before taking another attack. <span style="color: LightBlue">“So that is why you have come you foul-smelling fire-breathing offspring? You have come into this land to kill my friend and to kidnap another?”</span></p><p></p><p>Grick howled in rage once more. <span style="color: Red">“I have come to kill the sacrifice that you stole from my father dragon and to bring into effect a new time of dragon fear to this land and to Quehalost! Even if you keep me in prison my friends will succeed!”</span></p><p></p><p>Grick launched another one of his attacks and Ischarus welcomed the attack solidly in the chest. Ischarus was knocked back several steps and once more collapsed onto the floor. As he hit the floor, the sound of a breaking bone echoed through the cellblock. Ischarus wasn’t sure whether to cry in pain over his hand, the pain that he felt as his leg snapped when he tried to brace himself for the fall, or whether to throw up once more from the magical sickness.</p><p></p><p>The warden and his guards moved in on Ischarus and Grick. They raced down the hallway, revealing their hidden presence to Grick. Warden Farette pointed to the guard with the keys and said, <span style="color: Lime">“Get that door open and prepare him for transport. He needs medical attention, and I want him interviewed immediately after the healer is summoned.”</span></p><p></p><p>The warden spun on his heals and looked at Captain Jacobseille. <span style="color: Lime">“Captain, draw your crossbow and aim it at the one called Grick. If he even breathes in a threatening way to the other prisoner or us … shoot him. It can be on my authority and record if you shoot him well enough to kill.”</span></p><p></p><p>The warden looked to the other guard who had the black rod. <span style="color: Lime">“Go summon more guards. I want this place swarming with guards!”</span> He pointed to Ischarus and said, <span style="color: Lime">“I want him brought to the infirmary immediately and the healer summoned. Bring people to help move him.”</span> The warden pointed to Grick. <span style="color: Lime">“And I want a large armed party to take that one to an interrogation room. Bind his hands twice so that he cannot use them in his mystical ways. I want him safe for interrogation in fifteen minutes. And prepare the needles in case he won’t talk.”</span></p><p></p><p>As Ischarus lay in pain, he turned his head to dry heave. He knew the sickness would pass. The broken leg would heal. All of this was finally worth it. He now knew an important piece of information. Grick was not alone, and the target was Charis. Semeion had to be prepared for this. The father dragon would not be stopped easily.</p><p></p><p>[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]</p><p>Near the back of the building the guards stopped and began to form another circle. The warden approached Ischarus from behind and offered an explanation. “You’ll want to stand in the middle of the circle, Ischarus. My guards can hold you there by force, of course. But since you have been so compliant up to this point I will offer you the chance to descend into the prison depths of your own accord.”</p><p></p><p>Ischarus nodded and silently waited in what he thought to be a circle of guards forming around him. None of the guard had drawn their weapons, but they appeared eager to do so. As he looked towards the guards in formation he realized that their eagerness to draw their weapon was more out of training than personal vendetta against him. They were used to handling criminals who did not desire to go willingly into the depths of the prison. They were trained to be aggressive in holding their prisoner in the center of their circle.</p><p></p><p>The warden stood beside Ischarus and motioned for the captain to join them. Two more guards advanced out of the circle. One of them appeared to be decorated with high honor, and Ischarus assumed he was the personal bodyguard of the warden. The second guard who stepped forward had a large key ring full of keys attached to a metal grommet in his belt. Once the five people were situated in the center of the guards, the guard with the set of keys lifted a single black rod that measured a mere foot long. He touched each of the smaller group within the circle of guards with the rod, saying “Parzuhs Ahn-takrass” as he touched each person including himself. One by one each of the inner group became translucent and appeared as though they were composed of a misty air rather than solid matter.</p><p></p><p>Seeing the beginning of the jailing take effect, one of the guards in the outside circle lifted up a six inch gray and white rod made of marble. Setting one end of the rod upon the floor and holding the other end in his hand this guard spoke three simple words. “Biturbign con-Fustle.” A small hole opened in the floor immediately below the five whose bodies had been recently transformed into a far less substantial substance. The five in the center hung over the hole and did not immediately fall through the ground.</p><p></p><p>Once the hole was opened, the guard with the marble rod stood up and lifted a second rod into the air. With a smile toward Ischarus and those around him he gripped the foot-long tapered ivory wand and spoke. “Shoosh dahs-Cricknohn.” A small gust of wind originated above the five and began to blow down through the hole in the floor.</p><p></p><p>Ischarus immediately felt the uncontrollable movement as the wind blew his insubstantial body into the hole that had opened underneath his feet. His stomach began to turn as he instinctively fought against the movement. There was nothing he could do, however. His insubstantial body of vapor could not resist the gust of air. As his body struggled to understand what was happening around him, he and the others around him descended into the depths below. Ischarus watched the guards around him as he descended and before too long he could only look up at the floor that had now become his ceiling. The hole above him sealed itself as magically as it had appeared and he found himself in darkness.</p><p></p><p>It was the voice of the warden that Ischarus next heard. Warden Farette’s voice did not sound normal, however. It sounded to Ischarus as if the warden was speaking through water to talk to him. “Ischarus, wish yourself to be solid once more and you will be freed of your condition.” </p><p></p><p>Regardless of how the warden spoke, Ischarus had gotten the message. He mentally focused on reorganizing himself into a solid body and he could feel himself getting cold. As his body took its original shape he could feel the cool and damp air around him. His body took solid shape and he could see the faint light of the torches hung along the wall of the cellblock. Once he was solid again it took his eyes a minute to adjust to the limited light. Eventually he was able to focus once more. “You do that often?” Ischarus spoke as he tried to swallow the nauseous feeling that was slowly creeping up his throat.</p><p></p><p>The guard with the rods spoke with humor in his voice. “You get used to the feeling and the movement. If you spend any time in our jail you’ll get used to it, too.”</p><p></p><p>Ischarus shook his head as the warden stepped down the corridor. “The cell that you have requested is this way, Ischarus. Three floors down.”</p><p></p><p>Ischarus spoke with hesitation, fearing the answer of his captors. “Am I going to have to do that three more times, then?” </p><p></p><p>Warden Farette chuckled as he replied. “No, Ischarus. Now that we are below ground we use stairs. The means of transporting you through the magic rods are simply to ensure that if anyone manages to break out of their cell they cannot escape the underground prison. The worst that they can do is to travel the many levels of the cellblock and inflict havoc upon the incarcerated.”</p><p></p><p>As they walked, Ischarus asked another question. “So, if prisoners are transported that way every time and all it takes is to wish yourself to be solid, what prevents a prisoner from wishing himself solid too early? Wouldn’t he then drop to the ground earlier than the rest and potentially set himself to hurt the guards as they solidify?”</p><p></p><p>The warden stopped and looked back to Ischarus. “You should remember, Ischarus, that as of this moment you are a prisoner. Asking questions like that will not earn you trust with the guards in this place. You are not here on a tour, and until the captain here deems you worthy of release you should remember your place.”</p><p></p><p>Captain Jacobseille answered Ischarus’ question. “The solution is rather ingenious, actually. You no doubt noticed that to us the hole appeared to be completely open in the floor. Yet, if you were to ask any of the guards up above they will tell you that the hole was not complete. If anything, the hole was a mere shadow of existence within the floor. Thus, if a prisoner wishes to materialize too early, they could find themselves trying to solidify in the floor. If that were to happen, the magic of the spell is designed to automatically expel them violently to the floor below. They would likely be rendered with a significant injury and left unconscious. If they do manage to wait until they have cleared the hole in the floor, then they would fall as rapidly as would be expected of any solid body materializing several feet above solid ground. They would fall to the ground below and likely be injured. Even still, if they do manage to land on their feet free of injury then our guards can rest easy in the knowledge that as long as they maintain their more spiritual nature they cannot be harmed. They need merely separate and force the prisoner to choose one of them to wait and materialize. Any guard that can get far enough from the prisoner to safely materialize can do so and come to apprehend the freed prisoner. Once the prisoner is apprehended the rest of the guards can solidify in safety. It really is a nearly fool-proof process.”</p><p></p><p>Ischarus and the guards walked slowly until they came to a flight of stairs. They descended the stairs until the warden indicated that they had gone far enough and opened a door to the proper cellblock. Ischarus walked silently toward his cell, knowing that if his plan had any hope of working he must maintain the image of a caught prisoner.</p><p></p><p>Ischarus was shown his cell. The guard who had all of the keys opened the door for Ischarus and then secured it behind him. Once the warden was satisfied, Ischarus was left in silence. As Ischarus gripped the cell bars along the hall, he noticed something across the hall. A man rested on his cot directly across from where he gripped the iron bars. Ischarus smiled as he noted that the man had flame red hair. Surely this was Grick, the one that had brought this situation upon him. </p><p></p><p>Ischarus could feel an anger building inside him. He struggled inside himself to suppress this anger, knowing that composure was the only hope he had of getting out of his current situation without any doubt of his freedom. He looked down at his right hand. It was turning a light blue shade and he could feel an anger burning deep inside of him. The feeling of energy that he had felt only minutes prior when his friends had come with him to enter the prison had returned. He tried to move his fingers but he found that they were stiff and beginning to freeze to the bars of his cell. Panic quickly pushed the anger from his mind and he brought his left hand over to grasp his right hand. He planned to use his body heat to warm up his right hand. As his left hand touched the bar he realized that both the bar and the hand felt cold as if they were frozen. Ischarus paused for a moment and felt the rest of the bars near where he was standing. He discovered that they remained a normal temperature.</p><p></p><p>Ischarus could hear a chuckle from across the hallway. He responded in a bitter tone. “Did you do this to me, Grick?” His voice raise into a yell as he tried to get his hand free from where it was frozen to the bar.</p><p></p><p>Grick only laughed and pushed his long red hair out of his eyes. “No, but I wish I had. It gives my heart joy to see you suffer like the Provenience-thieving dog that you are!” Grick sneered and rubbed his fingers together quickly. Soon he had another one of his invisible balls of force and he took aim across the dark hallway. Ischarus saw the attack coming and worked hard to free his hand from the bar. His fingers now stretched free, but his palm was still stuck fast to the steel cell bar.</p><p></p><p>This time, Grick landed a successful attack. Ischarus was knocked back from the cell door and he could feel the skin on the palm of his right hand tear away. He quickly glanced up to the bar and saw that he had left a significant chunk of his skin stuck to the bar. He couldn’t bring himself to look at his own hand. The nausea from Grick’s attack had begun to take effect much like it had done earlier on Charis and the town guard. He bent over onto his knees and began to dry heave.</p><p></p><p>Grick could only laugh as he watched Ischarus fall prey to his magical assault. “I’ve got more where that came from you weak human dog. None of you can withstand the greatness of the dragon born. My father dragon will one day amass a new army and take Quehalost by storm. Your intrusion into his plan will only delay the inevitable. It won’t be long before we have slain the Provenience you stole from us and a new one is brought to him. Then you humans will fear my father dragon and his army before him. Quehalost will fall into the control of my dragon father. Then we shall come into Tongra and strike down this place.”</p><p></p><p>Ischarus’ body passed through one more cycle of dry heaves upon the floor and then he rested his head on the cool stone floor beneath him. Ischarus began to slowly laugh as the magical sickness from Grick’s attack began to wear off. Although he was laughing, he did not have the strength to look towards his opponent.</p><p></p><p>Grick looked insulted as Ischarus laughed. “What are you laughing at, human dog?</p><p></p><p>Ischarus slowly stood to his feet. As the magical sickness wore off, the pain from his hand tore through his mind. He struggled to keep from shrieking in pain and showing himself weak. He turned to Grick and approached the cell bars once more. This time he was careful not to touch them out of fear of having a recurrence of the last incident. “I am laughing,” Ischarus commented bravely through the intense pain of his right hand, “Because you think I am human! My silver father dragon would get quite a laugh at your stupidity you son of a greedy red! You cannot beat me from in here. You cannot further your father dragon’s weak cause from behind these bars. You have failed in your quest! That comment even assumes that the pitiful excuse of a task you were on in the first place could even be called a quest!” By the time Ischarus had finished speaking he was yelling. The yelling was not out of anger, but rather an attempt to hide the intense pain from the wound on his hand.</p><p></p><p>Grick raged from his side of the cellblock. “My father dragon’s cause is not weak! Once we have killed the Provenience that you stole from us and retrieved a suitable female to become the new Provenience in her place then you will see. The force of my father dragon will go unquenched! You shall not stop him!”</p><p></p><p>Ischarus could see Grick rubbing his fingers together again. He would have to work fast before taking another attack. “So that is why you have come you foul-smelling fire-breathing offspring? You have come into this land to kill my friend and to kidnap another?”</p><p></p><p>Grick howled in rage once more. “I have come to kill the sacrifice that you stole from my father dragon and to bring into effect a new time of dragon fear to this land and to Quehalost! Even if you keep me in prison my friends will succeed!”</p><p></p><p>Grick launched another one of his attacks and Ischarus welcomed the attack solidly in the chest. Ischarus was knocked back several steps and once more collapsed onto the floor. As he hit the floor, the sound of a breaking bone echoed through the cellblock. Ischarus wasn’t sure whether to cry in pain over his hand, the pain that he felt as his leg snapped when he tried to brace himself for the fall, or whether to throw up once more from the magical sickness.</p><p></p><p>The warden and his guards moved in on Ischarus and Grick. They raced down the hallway, revealing their hidden presence to Grick. Warden Farette pointed to the guard with the keys and said, “Get that door open and prepare him for transport. He needs medical attention, and I want him interviewed immediately after the healer is summoned.”</p><p></p><p>The warden spun on his heals and looked at Captain Jacobseille. “Captain, draw your crossbow and aim it at the one called Grick. If he even breathes in a threatening way to the other prisoner or us … shoot him. It can be on my authority and record if you shoot him well enough to kill.”</p><p></p><p>The warden looked to the other guard who had the black rod. “Go summon more guards. I want this place swarming with guards!” He pointed to Ischarus and said, “I want him brought to the infirmary immediately and the healer summoned. Bring people to help move him.” The warden pointed to Grick. “And I want a large armed party to take that one to an interrogation room. Bind his hands twice so that he cannot use them in his mystical ways. I want him safe for interrogation in fifteen minutes. And prepare the needles in case he won’t talk.”</p><p></p><p>As Ischarus lay in pain, he turned his head to dry heave. He knew the sickness would pass. The broken leg would heal. All of this was finally worth it. He now knew an important piece of information. Grick was not alone, and the target was Charis. Semeion had to be prepared for this. The father dragon would not be stopped easily.</p><p>[/Sblock]</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Nonlethal Force, post: 2963441, member: 35788"] Near the back of the building the guards stopped and began to form another circle. The warden approached Ischarus from behind and offered an explanation. [Color=Lime]“You’ll want to stand in the middle of the circle, Ischarus. My guards can hold you there by force, of course. But since you have been so compliant up to this point I will offer you the chance to descend into the prison depths of your own accord.”[/Color] Ischarus nodded and silently waited in what he thought to be a circle of guards forming around him. None of the guard had drawn their weapons, but they appeared eager to do so. As he looked towards the guards in formation he realized that their eagerness to draw their weapon was more out of training than personal vendetta against him. They were used to handling criminals who did not desire to go willingly into the depths of the prison. They were trained to be aggressive in holding their prisoner in the center of their circle. The warden stood beside Ischarus and motioned for the captain to join them. Two more guards advanced out of the circle. One of them appeared to be decorated with high honor, and Ischarus assumed he was the personal bodyguard of the warden. The second guard who stepped forward had a large key ring full of keys attached to a metal grommet in his belt. Once the five people were situated in the center of the guards, the guard with the set of keys lifted a single black rod that measured a mere foot long. He touched each of the smaller group within the circle of guards with the rod, saying [Color=Lime]“Parzuhs Ahn-takrass”[/Color] as he touched each person including himself. One by one each of the inner group became translucent and appeared as though they were composed of a misty air rather than solid matter. Seeing the beginning of the jailing take effect, one of the guards in the outside circle lifted up a six inch gray and white rod made of marble. Setting one end of the rod upon the floor and holding the other end in his hand this guard spoke three simple words. [Color=Lime]“Biturbign con-Fustle.”[/Color] A small hole opened in the floor immediately below the five whose bodies had been recently transformed into a far less substantial substance. The five in the center hung over the hole and did not immediately fall through the ground. Once the hole was opened, the guard with the marble rod stood up and lifted a second rod into the air. With a smile toward Ischarus and those around him he gripped the foot-long tapered ivory wand and spoke. [Color=Lime]“Shoosh dahs-Cricknohn.”[/Color] A small gust of wind originated above the five and began to blow down through the hole in the floor. Ischarus immediately felt the uncontrollable movement as the wind blew his insubstantial body into the hole that had opened underneath his feet. His stomach began to turn as he instinctively fought against the movement. There was nothing he could do, however. His insubstantial body of vapor could not resist the gust of air. As his body struggled to understand what was happening around him, he and the others around him descended into the depths below. Ischarus watched the guards around him as he descended and before too long he could only look up at the floor that had now become his ceiling. The hole above him sealed itself as magically as it had appeared and he found himself in darkness. It was the voice of the warden that Ischarus next heard. Warden Farette’s voice did not sound normal, however. It sounded to Ischarus as if the warden was speaking through water to talk to him. [Color=Lime]“Ischarus, wish yourself to be solid once more and you will be freed of your condition.”[/Color] Regardless of how the warden spoke, Ischarus had gotten the message. He mentally focused on reorganizing himself into a solid body and he could feel himself getting cold. As his body took its original shape he could feel the cool and damp air around him. His body took solid shape and he could see the faint light of the torches hung along the wall of the cellblock. Once he was solid again it took his eyes a minute to adjust to the limited light. Eventually he was able to focus once more. [Color=LightBlue]“You do that often?”[/Color] Ischarus spoke as he tried to swallow the nauseous feeling that was slowly creeping up his throat. The guard with the rods spoke with humor in his voice. [Color=Lime]“You get used to the feeling and the movement. If you spend any time in our jail you’ll get used to it, too.”[/Color] Ischarus shook his head as the warden stepped down the corridor. [Color=Lime]“The cell that you have requested is this way, Ischarus. Three floors down.”[/Color] Ischarus spoke with hesitation, fearing the answer of his captors. [Color=LightBlue]“Am I going to have to do that three more times, then?”[/Color] Warden Farette chuckled as he replied. [Color=Lime]“No, Ischarus. Now that we are below ground we use stairs. The means of transporting you through the magic rods are simply to ensure that if anyone manages to break out of their cell they cannot escape the underground prison. The worst that they can do is to travel the many levels of the cellblock and inflict havoc upon the incarcerated.”[/Color] As they walked, Ischarus asked another question. [Color=Lime]“So, if prisoners are transported that way every time and all it takes is to wish yourself to be solid, what prevents a prisoner from wishing himself solid too early? Wouldn’t he then drop to the ground earlier than the rest and potentially set himself to hurt the guards as they solidify?”[/Color] The warden stopped and looked back to Ischarus. [Color=Lime]“You should remember, Ischarus, that as of this moment you are a prisoner. Asking questions like that will not earn you trust with the guards in this place. You are not here on a tour, and until the captain here deems you worthy of release you should remember your place.”[/Color] Captain Jacobseille answered Ischarus’ question. [Color=Lime]“The solution is rather ingenious, actually. You no doubt noticed that to us the hole appeared to be completely open in the floor. Yet, if you were to ask any of the guards up above they will tell you that the hole was not complete. If anything, the hole was a mere shadow of existence within the floor. Thus, if a prisoner wishes to materialize too early, they could find themselves trying to solidify in the floor. If that were to happen, the magic of the spell is designed to automatically expel them violently to the floor below. They would likely be rendered with a significant injury and left unconscious. If they do manage to wait until they have cleared the hole in the floor, then they would fall as rapidly as would be expected of any solid body materializing several feet above solid ground. They would fall to the ground below and likely be injured. Even still, if they do manage to land on their feet free of injury then our guards can rest easy in the knowledge that as long as they maintain their more spiritual nature they cannot be harmed. They need merely separate and force the prisoner to choose one of them to wait and materialize. Any guard that can get far enough from the prisoner to safely materialize can do so and come to apprehend the freed prisoner. Once the prisoner is apprehended the rest of the guards can solidify in safety. It really is a nearly fool-proof process.”[/Color] Ischarus and the guards walked slowly until they came to a flight of stairs. They descended the stairs until the warden indicated that they had gone far enough and opened a door to the proper cellblock. Ischarus walked silently toward his cell, knowing that if his plan had any hope of working he must maintain the image of a caught prisoner. Ischarus was shown his cell. The guard who had all of the keys opened the door for Ischarus and then secured it behind him. Once the warden was satisfied, Ischarus was left in silence. As Ischarus gripped the cell bars along the hall, he noticed something across the hall. A man rested on his cot directly across from where he gripped the iron bars. Ischarus smiled as he noted that the man had flame red hair. Surely this was Grick, the one that had brought this situation upon him. Ischarus could feel an anger building inside him. He struggled inside himself to suppress this anger, knowing that composure was the only hope he had of getting out of his current situation without any doubt of his freedom. He looked down at his right hand. It was turning a light blue shade and he could feel an anger burning deep inside of him. The feeling of energy that he had felt only minutes prior when his friends had come with him to enter the prison had returned. He tried to move his fingers but he found that they were stiff and beginning to freeze to the bars of his cell. Panic quickly pushed the anger from his mind and he brought his left hand over to grasp his right hand. He planned to use his body heat to warm up his right hand. As his left hand touched the bar he realized that both the bar and the hand felt cold as if they were frozen. Ischarus paused for a moment and felt the rest of the bars near where he was standing. He discovered that they remained a normal temperature. Ischarus could hear a chuckle from across the hallway. He responded in a bitter tone. [Color=LightBlue]“Did you do this to me, Grick?”[/Color] His voice raise into a yell as he tried to get his hand free from where it was frozen to the bar. Grick only laughed and pushed his long red hair out of his eyes. [Color=Red]“No, but I wish I had. It gives my heart joy to see you suffer like the Provenience-thieving dog that you are!”[/Color] Grick sneered and rubbed his fingers together quickly. Soon he had another one of his invisible balls of force and he took aim across the dark hallway. Ischarus saw the attack coming and worked hard to free his hand from the bar. His fingers now stretched free, but his palm was still stuck fast to the steel cell bar. This time, Grick landed a successful attack. Ischarus was knocked back from the cell door and he could feel the skin on the palm of his right hand tear away. He quickly glanced up to the bar and saw that he had left a significant chunk of his skin stuck to the bar. He couldn’t bring himself to look at his own hand. The nausea from Grick’s attack had begun to take effect much like it had done earlier on Charis and the town guard. He bent over onto his knees and began to dry heave. Grick could only laugh as he watched Ischarus fall prey to his magical assault. [Color=Red]“I’ve got more where that came from you weak human dog. None of you can withstand the greatness of the dragon born. My father dragon will one day amass a new army and take Quehalost by storm. Your intrusion into his plan will only delay the inevitable. It won’t be long before we have slain the Provenience you stole from us and a new one is brought to him. Then you humans will fear my father dragon and his army before him. Quehalost will fall into the control of my dragon father. Then we shall come into Tongra and strike down this place.”[/Color] Ischarus’ body passed through one more cycle of dry heaves upon the floor and then he rested his head on the cool stone floor beneath him. Ischarus began to slowly laugh as the magical sickness from Grick’s attack began to wear off. Although he was laughing, he did not have the strength to look towards his opponent. Grick looked insulted as Ischarus laughed. [Color=Red]“What are you laughing at, human dog?[/Color] Ischarus slowly stood to his feet. As the magical sickness wore off, the pain from his hand tore through his mind. He struggled to keep from shrieking in pain and showing himself weak. He turned to Grick and approached the cell bars once more. This time he was careful not to touch them out of fear of having a recurrence of the last incident. [Color=LightBlue]“I am laughing,”[/Color] Ischarus commented bravely through the intense pain of his right hand, [Color=LightBlue]“Because you think I am human! My silver father dragon would get quite a laugh at your stupidity you son of a greedy red! You cannot beat me from in here. You cannot further your father dragon’s weak cause from behind these bars. You have failed in your quest! That comment even assumes that the pitiful excuse of a task you were on in the first place could even be called a quest!”[/Color] By the time Ischarus had finished speaking he was yelling. The yelling was not out of anger, but rather an attempt to hide the intense pain from the wound on his hand. Grick raged from his side of the cellblock. [Color=Red]“My father dragon’s cause is not weak! Once we have killed the Provenience that you stole from us and retrieved a suitable female to become the new Provenience in her place then you will see. The force of my father dragon will go unquenched! You shall not stop him!”[/Color] Ischarus could see Grick rubbing his fingers together again. He would have to work fast before taking another attack. [Color=LightBlue]“So that is why you have come you foul-smelling fire-breathing offspring? You have come into this land to kill my friend and to kidnap another?”[/Color] Grick howled in rage once more. [Color=Red]“I have come to kill the sacrifice that you stole from my father dragon and to bring into effect a new time of dragon fear to this land and to Quehalost! Even if you keep me in prison my friends will succeed!”[/Color] Grick launched another one of his attacks and Ischarus welcomed the attack solidly in the chest. Ischarus was knocked back several steps and once more collapsed onto the floor. As he hit the floor, the sound of a breaking bone echoed through the cellblock. Ischarus wasn’t sure whether to cry in pain over his hand, the pain that he felt as his leg snapped when he tried to brace himself for the fall, or whether to throw up once more from the magical sickness. The warden and his guards moved in on Ischarus and Grick. They raced down the hallway, revealing their hidden presence to Grick. Warden Farette pointed to the guard with the keys and said, [Color=Lime]“Get that door open and prepare him for transport. He needs medical attention, and I want him interviewed immediately after the healer is summoned.”[/Color] The warden spun on his heals and looked at Captain Jacobseille. [Color=Lime]“Captain, draw your crossbow and aim it at the one called Grick. If he even breathes in a threatening way to the other prisoner or us … shoot him. It can be on my authority and record if you shoot him well enough to kill.”[/Color] The warden looked to the other guard who had the black rod. [Color=Lime]“Go summon more guards. I want this place swarming with guards!”[/Color] He pointed to Ischarus and said, [Color=Lime]“I want him brought to the infirmary immediately and the healer summoned. Bring people to help move him.”[/Color] The warden pointed to Grick. [Color=Lime]“And I want a large armed party to take that one to an interrogation room. Bind his hands twice so that he cannot use them in his mystical ways. I want him safe for interrogation in fifteen minutes. And prepare the needles in case he won’t talk.”[/Color] As Ischarus lay in pain, he turned his head to dry heave. He knew the sickness would pass. The broken leg would heal. All of this was finally worth it. He now knew an important piece of information. Grick was not alone, and the target was Charis. Semeion had to be prepared for this. The father dragon would not be stopped easily. [Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section] Near the back of the building the guards stopped and began to form another circle. The warden approached Ischarus from behind and offered an explanation. “You’ll want to stand in the middle of the circle, Ischarus. My guards can hold you there by force, of course. But since you have been so compliant up to this point I will offer you the chance to descend into the prison depths of your own accord.” Ischarus nodded and silently waited in what he thought to be a circle of guards forming around him. None of the guard had drawn their weapons, but they appeared eager to do so. As he looked towards the guards in formation he realized that their eagerness to draw their weapon was more out of training than personal vendetta against him. They were used to handling criminals who did not desire to go willingly into the depths of the prison. They were trained to be aggressive in holding their prisoner in the center of their circle. The warden stood beside Ischarus and motioned for the captain to join them. Two more guards advanced out of the circle. One of them appeared to be decorated with high honor, and Ischarus assumed he was the personal bodyguard of the warden. The second guard who stepped forward had a large key ring full of keys attached to a metal grommet in his belt. Once the five people were situated in the center of the guards, the guard with the set of keys lifted a single black rod that measured a mere foot long. He touched each of the smaller group within the circle of guards with the rod, saying “Parzuhs Ahn-takrass” as he touched each person including himself. One by one each of the inner group became translucent and appeared as though they were composed of a misty air rather than solid matter. Seeing the beginning of the jailing take effect, one of the guards in the outside circle lifted up a six inch gray and white rod made of marble. Setting one end of the rod upon the floor and holding the other end in his hand this guard spoke three simple words. “Biturbign con-Fustle.” A small hole opened in the floor immediately below the five whose bodies had been recently transformed into a far less substantial substance. The five in the center hung over the hole and did not immediately fall through the ground. Once the hole was opened, the guard with the marble rod stood up and lifted a second rod into the air. With a smile toward Ischarus and those around him he gripped the foot-long tapered ivory wand and spoke. “Shoosh dahs-Cricknohn.” A small gust of wind originated above the five and began to blow down through the hole in the floor. Ischarus immediately felt the uncontrollable movement as the wind blew his insubstantial body into the hole that had opened underneath his feet. His stomach began to turn as he instinctively fought against the movement. There was nothing he could do, however. His insubstantial body of vapor could not resist the gust of air. As his body struggled to understand what was happening around him, he and the others around him descended into the depths below. Ischarus watched the guards around him as he descended and before too long he could only look up at the floor that had now become his ceiling. The hole above him sealed itself as magically as it had appeared and he found himself in darkness. It was the voice of the warden that Ischarus next heard. Warden Farette’s voice did not sound normal, however. It sounded to Ischarus as if the warden was speaking through water to talk to him. “Ischarus, wish yourself to be solid once more and you will be freed of your condition.” Regardless of how the warden spoke, Ischarus had gotten the message. He mentally focused on reorganizing himself into a solid body and he could feel himself getting cold. As his body took its original shape he could feel the cool and damp air around him. His body took solid shape and he could see the faint light of the torches hung along the wall of the cellblock. Once he was solid again it took his eyes a minute to adjust to the limited light. Eventually he was able to focus once more. “You do that often?” Ischarus spoke as he tried to swallow the nauseous feeling that was slowly creeping up his throat. The guard with the rods spoke with humor in his voice. “You get used to the feeling and the movement. If you spend any time in our jail you’ll get used to it, too.” Ischarus shook his head as the warden stepped down the corridor. “The cell that you have requested is this way, Ischarus. Three floors down.” Ischarus spoke with hesitation, fearing the answer of his captors. “Am I going to have to do that three more times, then?” Warden Farette chuckled as he replied. “No, Ischarus. Now that we are below ground we use stairs. The means of transporting you through the magic rods are simply to ensure that if anyone manages to break out of their cell they cannot escape the underground prison. The worst that they can do is to travel the many levels of the cellblock and inflict havoc upon the incarcerated.” As they walked, Ischarus asked another question. “So, if prisoners are transported that way every time and all it takes is to wish yourself to be solid, what prevents a prisoner from wishing himself solid too early? Wouldn’t he then drop to the ground earlier than the rest and potentially set himself to hurt the guards as they solidify?” The warden stopped and looked back to Ischarus. “You should remember, Ischarus, that as of this moment you are a prisoner. Asking questions like that will not earn you trust with the guards in this place. You are not here on a tour, and until the captain here deems you worthy of release you should remember your place.” Captain Jacobseille answered Ischarus’ question. “The solution is rather ingenious, actually. You no doubt noticed that to us the hole appeared to be completely open in the floor. Yet, if you were to ask any of the guards up above they will tell you that the hole was not complete. If anything, the hole was a mere shadow of existence within the floor. Thus, if a prisoner wishes to materialize too early, they could find themselves trying to solidify in the floor. If that were to happen, the magic of the spell is designed to automatically expel them violently to the floor below. They would likely be rendered with a significant injury and left unconscious. If they do manage to wait until they have cleared the hole in the floor, then they would fall as rapidly as would be expected of any solid body materializing several feet above solid ground. They would fall to the ground below and likely be injured. Even still, if they do manage to land on their feet free of injury then our guards can rest easy in the knowledge that as long as they maintain their more spiritual nature they cannot be harmed. They need merely separate and force the prisoner to choose one of them to wait and materialize. Any guard that can get far enough from the prisoner to safely materialize can do so and come to apprehend the freed prisoner. Once the prisoner is apprehended the rest of the guards can solidify in safety. It really is a nearly fool-proof process.” Ischarus and the guards walked slowly until they came to a flight of stairs. They descended the stairs until the warden indicated that they had gone far enough and opened a door to the proper cellblock. Ischarus walked silently toward his cell, knowing that if his plan had any hope of working he must maintain the image of a caught prisoner. Ischarus was shown his cell. The guard who had all of the keys opened the door for Ischarus and then secured it behind him. Once the warden was satisfied, Ischarus was left in silence. As Ischarus gripped the cell bars along the hall, he noticed something across the hall. A man rested on his cot directly across from where he gripped the iron bars. Ischarus smiled as he noted that the man had flame red hair. Surely this was Grick, the one that had brought this situation upon him. Ischarus could feel an anger building inside him. He struggled inside himself to suppress this anger, knowing that composure was the only hope he had of getting out of his current situation without any doubt of his freedom. He looked down at his right hand. It was turning a light blue shade and he could feel an anger burning deep inside of him. The feeling of energy that he had felt only minutes prior when his friends had come with him to enter the prison had returned. He tried to move his fingers but he found that they were stiff and beginning to freeze to the bars of his cell. Panic quickly pushed the anger from his mind and he brought his left hand over to grasp his right hand. He planned to use his body heat to warm up his right hand. As his left hand touched the bar he realized that both the bar and the hand felt cold as if they were frozen. Ischarus paused for a moment and felt the rest of the bars near where he was standing. He discovered that they remained a normal temperature. Ischarus could hear a chuckle from across the hallway. He responded in a bitter tone. “Did you do this to me, Grick?” His voice raise into a yell as he tried to get his hand free from where it was frozen to the bar. Grick only laughed and pushed his long red hair out of his eyes. “No, but I wish I had. It gives my heart joy to see you suffer like the Provenience-thieving dog that you are!” Grick sneered and rubbed his fingers together quickly. Soon he had another one of his invisible balls of force and he took aim across the dark hallway. Ischarus saw the attack coming and worked hard to free his hand from the bar. His fingers now stretched free, but his palm was still stuck fast to the steel cell bar. This time, Grick landed a successful attack. Ischarus was knocked back from the cell door and he could feel the skin on the palm of his right hand tear away. He quickly glanced up to the bar and saw that he had left a significant chunk of his skin stuck to the bar. He couldn’t bring himself to look at his own hand. The nausea from Grick’s attack had begun to take effect much like it had done earlier on Charis and the town guard. He bent over onto his knees and began to dry heave. Grick could only laugh as he watched Ischarus fall prey to his magical assault. “I’ve got more where that came from you weak human dog. None of you can withstand the greatness of the dragon born. My father dragon will one day amass a new army and take Quehalost by storm. Your intrusion into his plan will only delay the inevitable. It won’t be long before we have slain the Provenience you stole from us and a new one is brought to him. Then you humans will fear my father dragon and his army before him. Quehalost will fall into the control of my dragon father. Then we shall come into Tongra and strike down this place.” Ischarus’ body passed through one more cycle of dry heaves upon the floor and then he rested his head on the cool stone floor beneath him. Ischarus began to slowly laugh as the magical sickness from Grick’s attack began to wear off. Although he was laughing, he did not have the strength to look towards his opponent. Grick looked insulted as Ischarus laughed. “What are you laughing at, human dog? Ischarus slowly stood to his feet. As the magical sickness wore off, the pain from his hand tore through his mind. He struggled to keep from shrieking in pain and showing himself weak. He turned to Grick and approached the cell bars once more. This time he was careful not to touch them out of fear of having a recurrence of the last incident. “I am laughing,” Ischarus commented bravely through the intense pain of his right hand, “Because you think I am human! My silver father dragon would get quite a laugh at your stupidity you son of a greedy red! You cannot beat me from in here. You cannot further your father dragon’s weak cause from behind these bars. You have failed in your quest! That comment even assumes that the pitiful excuse of a task you were on in the first place could even be called a quest!” By the time Ischarus had finished speaking he was yelling. The yelling was not out of anger, but rather an attempt to hide the intense pain from the wound on his hand. Grick raged from his side of the cellblock. “My father dragon’s cause is not weak! Once we have killed the Provenience that you stole from us and retrieved a suitable female to become the new Provenience in her place then you will see. The force of my father dragon will go unquenched! You shall not stop him!” Ischarus could see Grick rubbing his fingers together again. He would have to work fast before taking another attack. “So that is why you have come you foul-smelling fire-breathing offspring? You have come into this land to kill my friend and to kidnap another?” Grick howled in rage once more. “I have come to kill the sacrifice that you stole from my father dragon and to bring into effect a new time of dragon fear to this land and to Quehalost! Even if you keep me in prison my friends will succeed!” Grick launched another one of his attacks and Ischarus welcomed the attack solidly in the chest. Ischarus was knocked back several steps and once more collapsed onto the floor. As he hit the floor, the sound of a breaking bone echoed through the cellblock. Ischarus wasn’t sure whether to cry in pain over his hand, the pain that he felt as his leg snapped when he tried to brace himself for the fall, or whether to throw up once more from the magical sickness. The warden and his guards moved in on Ischarus and Grick. They raced down the hallway, revealing their hidden presence to Grick. Warden Farette pointed to the guard with the keys and said, “Get that door open and prepare him for transport. He needs medical attention, and I want him interviewed immediately after the healer is summoned.” The warden spun on his heals and looked at Captain Jacobseille. “Captain, draw your crossbow and aim it at the one called Grick. If he even breathes in a threatening way to the other prisoner or us … shoot him. It can be on my authority and record if you shoot him well enough to kill.” The warden looked to the other guard who had the black rod. “Go summon more guards. I want this place swarming with guards!” He pointed to Ischarus and said, “I want him brought to the infirmary immediately and the healer summoned. Bring people to help move him.” The warden pointed to Grick. “And I want a large armed party to take that one to an interrogation room. Bind his hands twice so that he cannot use them in his mystical ways. I want him safe for interrogation in fifteen minutes. And prepare the needles in case he won’t talk.” As Ischarus lay in pain, he turned his head to dry heave. He knew the sickness would pass. The broken leg would heal. All of this was finally worth it. He now knew an important piece of information. Grick was not alone, and the target was Charis. Semeion had to be prepared for this. The father dragon would not be stopped easily. [/Sblock] [/QUOTE]
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