A note (future thread) (closed)

“Lin?” The drow turned, surprised when his friend who had been gone for a month slipped from the trees not 10 feet to his left.

“Keth.” The voice was rough and quiet, emerging from under his low drawn hood. “Run.”

Frowning behind his scarf, Fallen took a step back now confused and worried. The half-elfs voice sounded off. In fact, his entire demeanor seemed off. “What’s wrong?” He didn’t bother masking his worry and suspicion. As Kilindyl stepped further from the shadows the drow narrowed his eyes. The half elf was holding his weapons already, glinting in the shadows and ready.

“Damn it Keth….” The words were barely a whisper. “I wish you had just ran.” And with that he was moving, hurdling forward as if shot from a bow. Eyes wide in surprise, Fallen just barely managed to unsheathe his own knives to meet the undoubtedly deadly attack.

“Lin!? Wha…?” He didn’t have time to finish his sentence as he met his friend’s deadly onslaught blow for blow. Why was he doing this!? They had come to peace, resolved their issues. Kilindyl had even returned to their home to convince the village leaders that he was dead and the hit had been completed. It was why the knives gripped in his hands were unfamiliar, new and different. His old ones has been acted as a trophy to be returned.

Catching each blow and giving more ground than he should, the drow finally managed to catch a glimpse of his friends face behind his hood. Kilindyl’s expression caught him off guard. There were tears in his eyes and pain on his face.

What was going on?

Unable to fight at full capacity in his surprise, Fallen was quickly being backed into a corner. He was able to fling each of his friends blows harmlessly away, spinning and blocking, but he couldn’t bring himself to launch his own. This was Lin. This was his friend; his brother. This must be a joke.

Except that humor was the furthest thing from Kilindyl face and actions right now. Each blow was brought down with accuracy and skill, apparently with none of the inner conflict Fallen himself was feeling towards the fight.

Trotting backwards, the drow ducked a blade and spun away. “Lin, stop! What is this!?” Again, his question was answered only with another attack. Catching the half-elfs blades with his own, the drow spun and elbowed the other in the face. This only caused Kilindyl to falter for a moment, shaking off the blow and quickly freeing his knives for another attack.

Desperate, Fallen was at a loss for what to do. But as his thoughts raced the decision was made for him when he underestimated the length of his knife. The newer blades were a fraction of an inch shorter than his originals. As he brought it up to block, the steel barely scraped the half-elfs dagger as it flew forward and into the drow’s arm.

Crying out in shock and pain, he faltered long enough for Kilindyl to spin, knocking his left knife clear out of his hand. Slipping down to one knee, Fallen stared up into his friends face in shock and betrayal. “Why?” He gasped when Lin kicked his injured arms blade away, disarming him completely.

Kilindyl only stared down at his friend with pained and tear reddened eyes. “I don’t have a choice.” He whispered finally. “I would have done anything to not have to do this.”

Still not able to understand but submitting to his fate, the drow gripped his injured arm with his free and waited for the next blow to come. Kilindyl with all of his training would make it quick at least, wouldn’t he? But when the half-elf moved next it wasn’t to strike a killing blow.

White pain and stars exploded behind Fallen’s eyes for a moment before everything fell away to the black of unconsciousness.

---
Standing over the unconscious and wounded body of his friend, Kilindyl let out a whimper. Clenching a fist so hard his knuckles turned white, he shut his eyes against the tears. The pain and betrayal on Keth’s face struck him like a blade to his heart.

He would have done anything to avoid having to do that. In fact he would have rather died himself….but that wasn’t his choice. None of his actions were his choice anymore. He wished he could have made Fallen understand. But he supposed either way it wouldn’t have mattered. He would still have to do this.

“I heard you tell him to run.” A thin and reedy voice echoed from the shadows, causing Kilindyl to tense. The man that stepped out was just like he sounded, slimy and thin, everything the rat he was. “tsk, tsk half-elf, I thought I had come to an understanding with you.”

Silent, the assassins face hardened into a mask of indifference as the wizard rounded him to look down at Fallen. “So this is the infamous drow.” He scoffed, poking him with a foot. At the first sign of Kilindyls protest, the wizard turned angrily. “Don’t MOVE, half elf. Stand there and shut up. Remember, I OWN you.”

Kilindyl stiffened as he felt the curse tighten around his limbs and neck with the express order. He could only watch in horror when the ratty little man kicked Fallen just to make a point. “He’s not so tough now…” The wizard mused as he turned back to sneer at the assassin. “Teleport back to Rosynwood. We’ll be there shortly.”

Unable to refuse the command, Kilindyl rattled off the spell, eyes turned all the while to his friend.

‘I’m so sorry Keth…’

-------

The drow awoke abruptly to a sharp pain in his side. It took him a moment to gather his senses enough to realize that he had in fact been kicked. As soon as he cracked his eyes open he found himself being dragged from the ground to his knees.

Shackles jingled at his wrists, attached with a chain to an iron ring around his neck. He had also been stripped of his armor and equipment, left feeling incredibly vulnerable in only his tunic and pants. Interestingly enough, however, the stab wound that his friend had left him was gone. Healed?

Shaking off the unconsciousness altogether he glanced nervously around the room. It was unfamiliar, as were the people assembled. Most of those gathered directly before him appeared ancient, but the others in the room varied in age. All of them were either scowling, or staring at him with anger or disbelief.

“Decades have gone by while we’ve waited for word of your death, Kethri.” The eldest of the group spoke, voice watery but still accusatory. “Not in our wildest dreams did we believe that we would see you back here.” As he spoke the crowd became more anxious and intent on the words. “Not in our wildest dreams did we believe that we would have justice for the murder of our fathers, and our fathers, fathers.” He paused, letting the crowd cheer for a moment while shooting increasingly bitter glares at the drow who shrunk before them. “Not in our wildest dreams did we believe that we would be able to enact revenge on the one who burnt down our homes and our belongings….Who caused hardship that took years to come back from.”

The elder stopped for a moment, motioning to a young man before continuing; this time speaking to the people rather than Fallen. “Here is the murderer of your families; the destroyer of your town. Kethri!” With his final words, the man who had been motioned to stepped forward. Placing a firm foot on Fallens chest, he pushed back, spilling the drow backwards and unceremoniously to the wooden floor of the gathering hall.

Heart thundering in his chest, the drow glanced around the room terrified. He couldn’t keep a calm and impassive mask, not now. These were the people who had been trying to kill him for decades. Death was one thing. He knew how to avoid it just as well as he could deal it. But this…

Eyes wide, and breath coming in short gasps, he stared at the faces in the room. Each one twisted in anger caused by years of bitterness. It wasn’t until his vision darted to the back of the room did he recognize a familiar face. Although he appeared very much free, Kilindyl looked just as defeated as he Fallen himself. With drooping shoulders and downcast eyes, the half-elf refused to make eye contact with his friend.

Fallen stared, pleading with the other assassin, ‘At least glance at me. Please…Lin…’ But the ancient speaker stole his attention before he could catch Kilindyl’s gaze.

“We’re here today to decide the fate of this so infamous murderer.” The man raised his arms as if asking the crowd which in turn broke out into a roar of angry shouts and taunts. After a couple minutes, the man hushed them, nodding. “Ah yes, ah yes. Good point.” He spoke to a woman whose shouts Fallen had not heard. “But that would not make up the injustices this man gave to us.”

The crowd stared roaring again, causing Fallen to tense as he stared wide eyed at the speaker. The ancient man quickly hushed them this time. “I decree that he feel the pain that we have at his hands. For every year that we suffered the loss of our loved ones, he will suffer in our prisons. Is that not fair?!”

Fallen’s heart dropped when the crowd cheered at the decision. That was…sixty seven years. That had been sixty seven years ago. He had been 11. And they intended to…to…
He couldn’t breathe. This couldn’t be happening. Kilindyl…his gaze shot back who where his friend was standing, desperation on his eyes. This time Lin was indeed looking at him, the familiar green eyes full of shock and horror. He mouthed something then that Fallen didn’t catch as the crowd started moving.

Keth felt himself pulled to his feet then, the sudden movement causing his vision to waver and his head to start pounding. Clenching his teeth, he let his head drop to his chest in defeat as he was dragged through the crowd of taunting and jeering people. When he felt someone spit at him, he let himself go limp, shutting his eyes.

It was almost a relief to finally reach the solitude of the dungeon if only to get away from the cloying mobs of people following them. But the deeper they went underground the more anxious Fallen became. This was actually happening. He would probably never see the light of day again, nor the stars, feel the grass under his feet….

Having had his head lowered the entire walk; he finally looked up when they came before a stone door. Once it was opened, his body went from limp to tense. In a futile attempt of escape, he began to struggle. Twisting his shoulders away from the vice like grip of the guards, he began tugging at his shackled hands and only succeeded in choking himself. Had his hands been in front of him he may have been able to do something. But he supposed they had foreseen that….
It finally took a third man, grasping the chain attached to his neck to force him forward.

The cell was dark and stone, complete with multiple sets of shackles set at different heights in the walls and ceiling. Completely unable to keep a calm and indifferent expression, Fallen grit his teeth, eyes wide as he stared around the room. Since he had arrived here, every ounce of training he had had left. It was as if he was that child again. So young and terrified.

Pushed violently to his knees, the blow came from nowhere, catching him in the side of the head and sending him crashing to the stone floor. They only gave him a moment to recover before the next came in the form of a kick to the gut. In a moment all 3 of the men in his escort were surrounding him, dishing out blows. Curling as best he could against the relentless attack, Fallen didn’t even hear the tiny cries that escaped his lips with every impact.

He had been injured before, yes. But those were usually sharp and quick. This brought him back to the days of his childhood and the pain tolerance he had lost over the years. But even the beating back then hadn’t been as ruthless as this one.

When the men finally lost interest and left him, laughing as he coughed and gasped on the ground, he didn’t even attempt to move. Not before long, the darkness of unconsciousness finally took over.
-----

Fallen awoke abruptly to rough hands pulling him painfully to his feet. He hadn’t even realized his wrists had been freed from the shackles until they were quickly shackled above his head. His captors left no room for error, moving quickly and efficiently. He wondered briefly if they were afraid of his skill or just afraid that he’d escape.

With narrowed eyes against the torchlight and grit teeth, Fallen watched the men move about in the room. Two were standing stony faced by the door while the other had just moved towards a crank on the wall. When he activated it, the drow squeezed his eyes shut in pain as his still sore arms were pulled so far above his head that he was forced to stand on his toes or let himself hang.

Each breath hissing through his teeth, Fallen let his head fall forward onto his chest. His whole body was sore from the beating earlier and he was getting a really bad feeling.

Latching the crack in position, the man stepped around the drow, flashing a triumphant and wicked smile. “So you’re Kethri, the villain of the village…” He snorted, raising a brow. “Oh how the mighty have fallen, hm?” Fallen’s brow twitched at the irony in the words but refused to look up or speak.

“Nothing to say?” The man stepped forward, lacing his hands through the white locks of the drows hair and wrenching his head back. Now looking him in the eyes, he spoke again with malice. “My name is Damian. You killed my Father, my sister and my wife.” Red eyes widening in surprise, Fallen studied the man’s face. He was scruffy and unkempt, but those green eyes and slightly pointed ears were elven. He probably wasn’t even half-elf, but he had enough in him to be long lived.

Fallen frowned, refusing to reply which only aggravated the man. Releasing his grip and allowing Fallen’s head to drop back to his chest, Damian stepped back. “All these years I’ve been waiting for the chance to hurt you like you hurt me; like you’ve hurt this town. The council chose me because I was there, because I saw it all happen. I’ve read your file. I know your past. I know everything about you.”

Through narrowed eyes Fallen looked up at him wearily. The malice in the man’s eyes terrified him. They had managed to find the one person in town whose entire life he had personally ruined.

“And I also know how to inflict pain.” Those words caused Fallen’s breath to catch in his throat. Heart beating faster, his brows drew together when he saw what his captor had just withdrawn from his jacket. “Let’s start with something you’re familiar with, drow.” As Damian trailed the whip across the floor, grinning. Fallen tensed despite his already beaten and sore body. A regular, leather whip wouldn’t make the metallic skittering sounds this one was.

The man pulled back, grinning and brought his arm forward. At the motion, Fallen squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth and cringing back. But the impact never came. The sound of laughter filled the room suddenly, causing the drow to shudder a breath and crack open an eye. Letting the whip trail on the ground, Damian stepped forward snickering and patted Fallen on the cheek. “Fear. That’s what I like to see. I thought you’d be tougher than this. I haven’t even hurt you yet.”

Heart still fluttering in fear, Fallen could only stare wide eyed at the man as he turned to step away. His next motion was completely unexpected and lightning fast. Turning on his heel, Damian used the momentum to send the weapon flying into the un-expecting drow. Crying out in shock and pain, Fallen gasped for breath. The lash had torn right through his tunic and skin, the blades and steel thorns woven in made it so much more deadly and painful than a regular whip.

Giddy and grinning, Damian turned to one of the frowning guardsmen by the door. “Make sure a healer is standing by.”

Turning back to his prisoner, Damian swished the whip across the floor enjoying the sweet sound of the steel pieces tinkling on the stone. Fallen tensed again, shutting his eyes and holding his breath as he waited for the impact. But when it came, it came repeatedly. Clenching his hands into fists and squeezing his eyes shut, the pain became progressively worse with each lash. Eventually his chorus of whimpers and gasps turned into screams as his skin was shredded.

When Damian finally let whip, dripping with blood clatter to the ground the drow was barely conscious. A fine splattering of blood coated most of the room, flung everywhere with each throw of the whip. This excluded the two guards who had ducked out of the room to avoid being hit with the backlash of the weapon.

Blood ran steady from Fallen’s wounds to to completely soak his pants before finally pooling under his feet. Each gasping breath he took was accompanied by a whimper that he just couldn’t seem to stop. He’d never been in this much pain.

Pursing his lips, Damian stepped forward, placing a deliberate hand around the Fallen’s throat. Lifting the drow’s head so he could look at his face he put on a fake looking frown. “Oh, did I make you cry.” Lifting the whip, he wiped away the tears that streaked the drow’s face with the butt end, leaving instead smears of blood.
“There, is that better?”

Fallen could barely even comprehend what the man was saying. His mind was swimming, blacking in and out from the pain, and now blood loss. He felt nauseous, his heart fluttering in his throat. When it got suddenly harder to breath, his mind gained enough clarity to focus on the man in front of him. Wheezing and without any real fear of repercussion, Fallen mustered enough anger and clarity to spit a mouthful of blood in the man’s face.

Letting go and stepping back, Damian just smiled and wiped it off, tipping his head forward in a bow. “Until tomorrow, drow.” And with that, he spun on his heel and heavy coat flapping around him, swept out of the room.

Glancing at each other the two guards turned to follow. One stopped just as he was about to lock the door and as an afterthought hit the latch on the crank that held the injured drow up. As soon as the mechanism was released, Fallen dropped unceremoniously to his knees onto the blood slicked stone. Hands still suspended above his head at the end of the length of chain, the drow slumped forward.

He was exhausted, nauseous and was having trouble focusing his thoughts. Everything seemed surreal….disconnected as he wavered on the edge of consciousness. He wished they had killed him. There was no hope left. Kilindyl had betrayed him…and the only other friend he had….the only other person he trusted was far from this place. And far away she would stay, probably unaware that he had been taken or that he was even gone.

If it took days, weeks, months or years, there was one thing he was sure of. He would die here alone.

Defeated both physically and mentally, Fallen slipped into unconsciousness.

-----

Fallen awoke completely disoriented, mind still swimming as it had been the day before. Flinching away as something struck his face, although not hard, it was enough to bring him completely around. Groaning, he cracked open weary eyes only to stare into the face of the man who called himself Damian.

“Aaahah, there he is.” Damian spoke as if he was speaking to a child. “Hope you were comfortable last night.”

Shutting his eyes again Fallen shifted, taking inventory of the damage to his body. His chest was still burning with pain and although he couldn’t see it he could feel the newly scabbing wounds start to tug. His arms were nearly numb from the position they were being held in and his hands he had trouble feeing at all. He was used to sleeping on uncomfortable surfaces, but kneeling on stone for hours left his stiff and so sore the prospect of moving made his cringe.

Frowning, Damian suddenly wrenched Fallen’s head back by his hair. “Look at me.” Despite himself, Fallen cracked an eye, training it on the other. “You haven’t spoken one word since you’ve arrived.” He frowned, studying the drows face. “Have you no remorse? Because if you don’t, I’ll make you at least regret it.”

Wheezing a breath, Fallen spoke. “Would it matter either way?” His voice was rough and hoarse, forced past his dry throat. He realized he hadn’t had anything to drink since he had been in Wildgard. How many days had passed since then?

Smiling, Damian let go of the white hair and finally stood. “No. But at least I know that you understand the common tongue. I was beginning to think you didn’t speak at all.” Laughing, he slipped off the heavy leather jacket he had been wearing; the same one still splattered with blood from the day previous, and dropped it into the corner. “Who doesn’t enjoy a little pleasant conversation in the morning?”

Once released from the man’s grip, Fallen slumped forward once more. His hair was almost long enough to brush the blood covered stone. Trying to focus on breathing, the drow listened to the man speak, keeping silent. This Damian was a cruel man, something even Fallen couldn’t understand. He was a killer; ruthless and cold hearted, yes. But he couldn’t imagine the thoughts going through someone like Damian’s head.

As if on cue, the man spoke again. “So what you’re just a man of few words? Hm.” Fallen could hear Damian circling him and as each moment passed he couldn’t help but feel the tension building. “Tell me, I hear you’re quite the master archer.”

The footsteps stopped and Fallen shut his eyes as a minute passed in silence. “No? Then I suppose you won’t really need this then.” Despite how numb his hand was, the pain was shocking. Unable to stop the scream that tore through his throat, the drow gasped for breath. Damian had just swiftly and with no trouble broken Fallen’s index finger on his right hand, snapping it completely back.

Patiently, Damian waited for the drow to catch his breath before he spoke again. “Really, you won’t be needing any of them really. Am I right?” Had Fallen been in any state to truly listen to the man’s words, the light heartedness to them would have unnerved him.

This time, the man grasped the drow’s middle finger, not immediately breaking it. “You ready?” This time was no less painful then the first, the drow’s scream echoing down the prison corridor.

Systematically, he then went on to break the last two on Fallen’s right hand much in the same way.
“You are right handed right? Oh, that would have been quite the mistake on my part if not.” Pausing, Damian tipped his head to the side as if thinking as he watched the drow shake with every breath. “Maybe I should break the rest to make sure?”

To his dismay, a pathetic keening sound slipped out when the words reached his ears. His whole arm ached, each beat of his heart only bringing pain. The shackle biting into his hand only made it so much worse. He didn’t even really think about the next words he spoke, to far defeated to care about pride. “…please….no…”

Apparently though, this shocked Damian. Stopping just as he was reaching towards the uninjured hand, his mouth fell open. “You’re actually begging……HAH!” laughter filled the cell as he rounded the drow and crouched before him. “I can’t believe you’re actually begging! Say it again.”

Pride inching back at Damian’s reaction, Fallen kept his head down. Silent.

“Perhaps I misheard” Standing, he roughly and without any build up or warning broke the index finger on Fallen’s left hand.

The scream that echoed through the room turned into a sobbed word. “Please…” Unable to catch his breath as his body shuddered with pain, the drow repeated the word. “Please….please….”

“Please? Please? Gonna have to be more specific.” Ruthlessly, he broke the next finger.

Choking on the lack of air, Fallen sobbed instead, “Stop….please….”

“Was that so hard?” Damian once again crouched before him, lifting his head by a handful of white hair to look him in the eye. “Unfortunately for you I just like hearing you beg. You were right. Nothing you say here matters.” Fallen whimpered as the man let go again, wishing that he was unconscious.

After all eight of the drows fingers were unusable, Damian circled round once more to crouch before his prisoner. “You know, after decades of pining for revenge against you I’m shocked that you’re breaking so easily. I thought you would be…” He pursed his lips, brow furrowed. “Tougher. Your reputation certainly painted you that way.”

Trying to gain control of his breath, the drow grit his teeth, listening but not looking up. Was he really breaking? What was there to break anyway? He didn’t consider himself stronger in character than any other person, only more skilled in his craft. Although his pride was taking a hit and wanting to rebound harder than it normally did. Or perhaps he should just give in. He didn’t have anything to lose. There was no one coming for him. No rescue. No friends, not here.

“Well. Either way, I’m not going to enjoy myself any less.” Standing with a huff, Damian stepped over the crank on the wall, turning it will little effort. Gasping in pain and gritting his teeth when his wrists were once again forced to take his entire wait, Fallen tried not to cry out.

Face twisted in pain, he squeezed his eyes shut focusing on not hyperventilating. He missed Damian motion to one of the guards at the door as he latched and stepped away from the crank.

“Hmm, that probably hurts.” Circling the drow as if he were on the prowl Damian spoke again. “Shall I distract you?

Smiling when the guard he had motioned to returned, Damian nodded to him before stepping far back against the wall as to not be hit.

Still squeezing his eyes shut in pain, what came next was completely unexpected. The scream that tore out of him was so feral that even the two guards cringed as it echoed through the entire dungeon. Writhing in pain as the near boiling water ran down his body and still healing lashes, Fallen couldn’t help the whimpers that came out with every gasping breath. The water clung to the remnants of his shredded tunic as well as his pants, still carrying heat and continuing burning with every second.

“Such a simple thing, water…” Damian stepped forward again, clasping his hands behind his back. “Simple, but so effective.”

Barely hearing the man speak, Fallen’s head lolled forward as his vision blacked out and mind wavered on the edge of consciousness.

“Hm.” Damian grabbed the drow roughly by the chin, lifting his head so he could study his face. Grunting in irritation, he stepped away and retrieved his jacket from the corner, slipping it on. Guess that was it for today. It was useless torturing an unconscious prisoner.

“Get a healer down here by the end of the day.” He stopped to speak with one of the stony faced guards at the door. “He’s not lasting nearly as long as I thought he would. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

-----

Fading in and out of consciousness, Fallen wasn’t sure what was real or if he was just imagining things in a pain induced delirium.

He felt himself being moved, the pain of the shackled biting into his ruined hands lessening as he was once again lowered.

Fading out and then in again he realized that he was laying on the stone floor, shackled hands resting on his chest. He could hear voices but they were just warbling sounds, nothing he could understand.

Again he faded out. When he came to, he came to with more clarity, but unfortunately clarity came with pain. Attempting to ignore it he focused on his surroundings. There was a new voice in the room.

“But he looks so young…” It was a quiet, feminine voice, the last thing he thought he’d hear. “How can this be the one who-?”

“Just do your job.” One of the guards cut her off, or at least he assumed it was one of the guards.

Cracking an eyes open, his vision took a moment to clear before the form of a young woman came into focus. She was hovering over him, seemingly nervous and became even more so when she glanced at his face only to see the red eye trained on her.

Swallowing she knelt beside him, hands hovering just over his shredded skin. With a grimace she finally placed delicate hands on his chest and began reciting the heal spell. Shutting his eye once more, Fallen let his head fall back and took a breath of relief as the pain began to lessen.

He could feel his wounds closing; the worse of the burns fading, even his mangled hands begin to knit back together. But about half way through she was suddenly cut off, her gentle hands leaving. Opening an eye he watched the guard pull her away.

“I wasn’t finished!” She looked down to the man on the ground, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“We don’t need him healthy, just not dead.” The guard ushered her out before leaving himself and locking the door.

Letting out a wavering breath, the drow grimaced and pushed himself into a sitting position with an elbow. He was still in pain and felt weak and light headed; but at least he could function. Crossing his legs under him, he took a deep breath and tried to make his body relax. He hadn’t even realized how sore his jaw had become from gritting his teeth in pain.

Looking down at his hands, shackled in his lap he tested his fingers. Stopping immediately, he sucked in a breath. These injuries were too deep to be affected by the uncompleted heal spell.

Taking another breath, he shut his eyes. So this was how it was going to go. They would torture him to the brink of death only to revive him to do it again. As hopelessness flooded him, tears welled in his eyes but he blinked them away. Crying wouldn’t get him anywhere. And if that man decided to return it would probably only fuel his fire.

The sound of footsteps as someone returned to the door caused him to tense. When the guard entered the room, Fallen didn’t relax until he realized he was carrying what appeared to be a glass of water and bread. Giving him a dirty look, the guard set it down before slamming and locking the door once more.

Swallowing, Fallen slowly got to his feet. Wavering slightly he stumbled over to the plate before dropping down again. His first instinct was to reach for the water, but as his hand touched the cup he stopped, brow furrowing. Pausing for a moment he then took it between both palms, and praying to any god that was listening that he wouldn’t drop it, drank.

Once it was empty he set it down with a frown. What little was in the cup had not even touched his thirst. In fact it made it even worse. Glancing at the bread, he turned away. He probably wouldn’t be able to choke it down. Not without more water.

Standing once more, Fallen found a corner and slid down into it. Resting his head against the stone he shut his eyes. He wished he was unconscious again….or preferably that he was dead.

Letting his thoughts wander, he wondered when Ashen would realize he was gone. It had been normal for him to disappear for days…weeks at a time. This time as the days passed she would probably start to worry. How long would it take for her to realize that he wasn’t coming back? Would she search for him? He hoped she wouldn’t get herself into trouble.

How long it would take her to forget about him? She had a whole family and household to look after. It wouldn’t take her to long to stop looking….stop wondering….and then eventually forget about him. He was only a small part of her life. She was older than he was after all. He’d only become a distant memory.

He prayed that she would never learn what happened to him. She knew the pain of torture….knowing would only bring her unneeded pain.

Brow twitching it occurred to him then that the only one who might tell her would be Kilindyl. What had possessed him to betray him like that? Was it an outside influence? Or had it been something he had been planning all along? Certainly, the pained looked on his face when they had fought and again in the assembly hall was throwing him off.

But either way, the half-elf wasn’t coming to his rescue. This was something he knew deep down.

All he could do was submit to his fate and hope that he found death sooner rather than later.

Although the home of the elders was not much larger than the other buildings in the town but much more lavish. With the large double doors and the posted guards, it was hard to miss. Having lost their families in the fire the small group of elders had deiced to reside together in a type of group home, this way it was much easier for them to run the town and converse. Considering their age it would be impractical for them to traverse the town to meet on a daily basis.

As the two were greeted at the door the guards smiled, letting them in. Most in the town were in good humor now that the infamous drow murderer had been captured. Celebrations and festivities were still spilling out into the streets at dusk, even now two months later.

The guard who led them through the building was young and bouncy. He had been summoned from outer guard that morning to take charge of the elders door. The man who was supposed to be on guard had partook of one of the parties a little to late the night previous and had been sent home since he was still drunk. Leading the two up to the meeting hall door, the guard spoke. "You can meet with the elders just in there to make your delivery." He was to naive and new to the post to realize his error when he opened to door.

As it swung open, 7 heads turned to look at the new comers in surprise. Six men sat at the table. Five were ancient, beards and hair a stark white, their skin wrinkled and papery. The 6th at the table was a thin, diminutive man with long greasy mouse colored hair pulled into a loose pony tail. Finally the 7th in the room leaned quietly against the wall behind the 6th, cloaked, only his green eyes shone from under his hood.

"What is the meaning of this disruption?" One of the elders stood, squinting at the door until his failing eye sight recognized the woman. "Ah! Melissa! My apologies. You have caught us in a meaning. Thankfully it has just ended."

Slowly the men began to stand and disperse, slowly hobbling out of the room. The greasy looking robed man approached the speaking elder to whisper in his ear first before stalking away. "Follow, half-elf." His thin voice demanded causing the hooded man to move quickly to fall in step behind the wizard. As they swept the two woman in the door way the hooded figure turned wide pleading eyes on the kinto. "Hurry." He whispered before he was gone, following the wizard down the hall.

Through the door the sound of a muffled conversation could be heard.

Lounging on a rather plush chair, an ancient man sipped tea while regarding the other two in the room. "-but don't you think that keeping him under your will any longer is cruel? It's been months Rydus. He's been loyal to us for decades."

"It doesn't matter." The greasy, ratty man hissed, his words like venom. "He betrayed us. He betrayed all of us." Standing he began pacing, his robes doing nothing to hide his thin frame. "We all know the side he chose. He's dangerous and he knows exactly what's happening. What if he turned on us?"

"I agree with the wizard." The third man spoke, arms crossed as he leaned on the wall beside the fire place. The light flickered across his worn and stained leather trenchcoat that fit snugly across his broad shoulders. "After all this time. Decades of hunting and you would risk it all?"

"No, no...I suppose you're right." The old man paused as he raised a hand to stroke his beard. "Is all going well on your end, Damian?"

The jacketed man grinned, an expression you might see on a wolf. "No resistance. Not anymore."

"hmmmf." The wizard scoffed and stopped pacing, turning towards Damian with a condescending expression. "Oh please. As if it's difficult breaking someone who can't even fight back."

His grin turning quickly into a frown, the man shot back his answer coolly. "Like you have it so hard. Kilindyl is bent to your will. He literally can't deny you."

"ENOUGH." The command coming from the ancient man startled them both into silence. "Return To your duties. Both of you. We will continue this discussion when it's needed."

Both huffing, the two men left, taking the hall away in opposite directions to avoid each other and leaving the elder alone in the room.

Turning when the person moving down the hall nearly stepped right into him, the half-elfs eyes widening in surprise. Twice in the same day she'd shown up as if out of the blue after months. Wide eyed in shock he was about to speak when the wizards voice cut through the hall silencing both of them. Grimacing as he felt the wizards will take hold of his own he pivoted and stepped back to enter the other hallway, eyes all the while on the kinto.

'Get out of sight, get out of sight!' His thoughts raced as she scaled the wall into the rafters.

"I was waiting for you. Was that not your command." Kilindyl made sure to keep his eyes on the floor, first of all not to anger Rydus and two...not to tip him off that someone else was there.

"Hmmf." The wizard grumbled, grabbing the assassin by the scarf and towing him down the opposite hall.

Perching on the edge of a desk across the room, Kilindyl gaze flicked up to Ashen before holding steady on the wizards back. If he did anything to tip Rydus off, the first thing the wizard would do would be to yell some command he knew he wouldn't want to follow.

When the wizard finally turned to him, he let his gaze drop to the floor.

"Make sure you're keeping a careful eye on that dog, Damian." The wizard growled, narrowing his gaze on Lin. "Who knows how long you're friend will last. Before long he might start looking for something new to stab every day. I don't want that to be me."

Lin grit his teeth, brow furrowing as he kept his gaze down. "Yes, sir." Taunting him with Keth's condition had become a daily thing. He hadn't seen the drow since that fateful day in the assembly hall but he had a pretty vivid idea of what was happening to his friend.

He wanted to look up at Ashen then, hoping that she got the message the wizard had so kinda just blurted out.

As the woman moved, and both the heads of the wizard and the assassin turned to look at her, everyone began moving at once. The wizard, wide eyed and startled, reeled away only to be caught under the Ashen. At the same tie Lin was moving, drawing his knives and launching himself towards the woman in the same fluent movement.

Compelled by the wizards command to protect him, Lin could do nothing to stop the knives that were plunging towards his friend. Fortunately he could still speak.

"DEFEND!" He shouted, desperation crossing his face.