npc
New Member
Jade Rhade
Posts: 5
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Post by npc on May 21, 2010 0:50:34 GMT -5
Dirt and grime choked the moss trying to grow, thick and slimy, on the dungeon walls. Mold cracked the mortar between solid stone blocks on three sides, broken only by rusted iron lattice of a gate. Yellow lantern-light flickered through the bars on the door, casting a ray of light over three bodies lying prone on the floor from where they had been carelessly thrown.
Further down the thin corridor, one could see nothing but blank stone and evenly-spaced lanterns. If there were cells nearby, their occupants were one of three things: unconscious, mute, or --
dead.
A single rat scurried over the leg of a skeleton sitting cross-legged in the corner. Ragged strips of cloth hung from bones long since picked clean of rotting flesh. The rat paused at the sound of booted footsteps echoing down the hall, nose twitching as it sniffed, before it squealed once and darted toward one of the small square holes between the bars in an attempt to escape.
A muffled curse and a flash of red light, and the rank odor of burned hair filled the air. "You belong in the lab," the red-haired sorceress remarked to the latest corpse in her dungeon. She paused before the bars of this particular cell and raised a slender, elegantly crafted eyebrow. Quickly, she inventoried their faces, now dirt-smudged and caked with thin rivulets of dried blood from being thrown none-too-gently into the cell. A mind trained in the memorization of spells categorized them from a single contemptuous glance. "The musician without his own violin, the farm girl with no money, and..." Pausing, she glanced again at the silver-haired male. "An uninvited guest."
Turning up her nose, she smoothed her red dress free of any imagined stain and continued on her way, footsteps echoing down the corridor until everything was silent again. After all, what need was there for guards in a den of rats?
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Post by Elizaveta Héderváry on May 23, 2010 5:15:41 GMT -5
She dreamt. She dreamt of her life back then, when she was still a wee child, with her work in the farm and her constant sneaking. She dreamt of the young aristocratic boy with a stiff politeness following every of his words, hands smooth unlike hers and voice sharp and commanding. "Roderich..." With a mumble, Elizaveta was awaken from her dream, and for a moment she only blinked, brain still clouded by the post-sleep haze.
Her body made a protesting sound when she shifted on her position, trying to get an acceptable explanation of what had happened and where she is until she realized that she's not alone here. Located not far from her was the same boy that appeared in her dream, only that said boy had grown up and no longer have the childish feature, the dirt and dried blood did nothing to reduce the attractiveness of the face. And then there's someone other...
A man, shouldn't be old from his face, but his hair color... Oh damn it. This is no time to judge others from their look.
A disgusted sound escaped her lips when her brain finally registered what the stink that had been filling her senses are and she felt like throwing up. "Psh, whatever did I get myself into now..." There's no way she can escape this alone though... These two better wake up soon.
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