Punishment Endured
Posted: Thu May 19, 2005 1:42 pm
She stood. Her body was completely unmarred, not a scar remained although the memory was all too real.
The dogs stalked around the High Inquisitors legs, growling in anticipation at what was to come; their maws dripping with drool. Her breath came with sharp gasps, her legs weak; barely about to support her weight. I must not faint… I must not faint. While unconsciousness would be a welcome escape ultimately it would only cause more torment. She would not be granted the release.
The Inquisitor took her hand, almost gently, and slipped a ring on her finger. She tried to keep her hand from shaking. “This my dear, is what those in the trade call a ring of regeneration.” Her eyes went wide understanding the meaning of the ring. No… not the ring.
“It will heal the flesh. Almost as fast as the dogs can tear it apart. Almost.” He let go of her hand and stepped back.
She stood on a grate clad in black rags which would offer no protection; desperately she clasped her arms around herself. I must not beg! I must endure! Terrified she watched the dogs stepping closer.
“Release them.” With a scream she went down, dragged under by the dogs as they tore into her like a pack of hungry lions into a trapped zebra.
Pain. An indescribable blinding, white hot… Tearing! Torture! She does not remember when the dogs were pulled back but she remembers the half-orc questioner. He picked her up from the grate and carried her to the temple. She clung to his chest like a child seeking comfort. But there was none.
Hours went by lying on the cold cobblestone floor, fighting against the memory of teeth and tearing flesh. There was nothing but the memory of pain suffered. A voice; a perfect tenor. Rhythmic; male: “Death to all who oppose Cyric. Repeat!”
Blue eyes… pierced through her vision of torment. They are as ice. Hate! Hands ball into fists. Hate him! Her voice coarse from screaming sounds more like an animal’s growl than a human voice: “Death to all who oppose Cyric.”
The dogs stalked around the High Inquisitors legs, growling in anticipation at what was to come; their maws dripping with drool. Her breath came with sharp gasps, her legs weak; barely about to support her weight. I must not faint… I must not faint. While unconsciousness would be a welcome escape ultimately it would only cause more torment. She would not be granted the release.
The Inquisitor took her hand, almost gently, and slipped a ring on her finger. She tried to keep her hand from shaking. “This my dear, is what those in the trade call a ring of regeneration.” Her eyes went wide understanding the meaning of the ring. No… not the ring.
“It will heal the flesh. Almost as fast as the dogs can tear it apart. Almost.” He let go of her hand and stepped back.
She stood on a grate clad in black rags which would offer no protection; desperately she clasped her arms around herself. I must not beg! I must endure! Terrified she watched the dogs stepping closer.
“Release them.” With a scream she went down, dragged under by the dogs as they tore into her like a pack of hungry lions into a trapped zebra.
Pain. An indescribable blinding, white hot… Tearing! Torture! She does not remember when the dogs were pulled back but she remembers the half-orc questioner. He picked her up from the grate and carried her to the temple. She clung to his chest like a child seeking comfort. But there was none.
Hours went by lying on the cold cobblestone floor, fighting against the memory of teeth and tearing flesh. There was nothing but the memory of pain suffered. A voice; a perfect tenor. Rhythmic; male: “Death to all who oppose Cyric. Repeat!”
Blue eyes… pierced through her vision of torment. They are as ice. Hate! Hands ball into fists. Hate him! Her voice coarse from screaming sounds more like an animal’s growl than a human voice: “Death to all who oppose Cyric.”
