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Welcome to Elenlond, an original medieval fantasy roleplaying forum! We strive for creative, free-form roleplaying, in the hopes of allowing each and every single member the power to achieve their potential.
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| Welcome to Elenlond, an original medieval fantasy forum! We're always looking for new, dedicated members. Elenlond is composed of two continents: Soare and Esiria. Esiria, a land now isolated due to the efforts of the last remaining Goddess, is inaccessible to all beings and lies in the east. Soare, a continent in the west, is composed of three distinct nations: Ashoka, Soto, and Morrim. Lying between the two major continents are the Scattered Isles. Since the dissolution of the pantheon and the fall of the gods, these countries have existed in relative peace and prosperity. But how long will that peace last? Enter Elenlond; Turn the pages and tell your own tale. If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
| The Lost Puppy; Cain | |
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| Topic Started: May 25 2009, 08:20 PM (203 Views) | |
| Nicola | May 25 2009, 08:20 PM Post #1 |
 
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One of the best things about being a spy in the service of the empress, in Nicola’s opinion, was the opportunity to travel. Nico had already visited almost every major city on this overlarge island, and that isn’t even counting all of the forests, caves, and other points of interest to explore as well. She had just finished up a job in Eldahar; gathering information on the alignment and allegiance of that city. The job had seemed a bit odd to her; the empress didn’t normally concern herself with the goings on of cities so far from her own kingdom, but then again Her Highness had been acting strangely ever since the Festival of Life. She had considered talking to one of the empress’s advisors about her thoughts, but her job was to find answers, not ask questions. Though she was a fairly inquisitive creature, she was also smart enough to know when to keep her mouth shut. The visit had been, for the most part, dull. She had found little information that surprised her; the warlike city only cared about itself and its occupants. The city was unwilling to get involved in the politics of the rest of the nation unless it somehow benefitted them. Now that she had finished her assignment, managed to find a pretty new bracelet at a local vendor, and was now ready to return home. She knew that her trek out of the city would lead her past the underground prison. She had seen one of the two entrances on her way in, but she didn’t want to get too close, lest her curiosity distract her from her duties. Besides she had known little about the location before speaking to some of the locals in Eldahar. Now that she was free to do as she pleased, she veered away from the path and closer to one of the tall metal gates that blocked the entrance to the prison. The sun rose high above the desert, causing a glisten of sweat to rise on Nico’s forehead and neck as she closed in on the gate. It was larger than she would have guessed when she had seen it from the main road on her way into the city. Normally she stayed away from such potentially dangerous situations, not being the best swordswoman, but the locals assured her that the prison had been mostly empty for decades. Its only inhabitants, as far as they were aware, were desert salamanders, jack rabbits, and the bats that now lived underground. Her steps slowed the closer she got to the metal gate. The air was still and quiet, though a stale, musty smell seemed to rise from just beyond the gate. She could see the set of stairs that led down into the depths of the prison between the thick metal bars. She knew she was too curious for her own good, but she couldn’t help but to reach out a hand towards the metal, letting just her fingertips brush the cold silver before swiftly withdrawing her hand again. Apparently a light touch was all that was needed, for in that half of a second that her fingers grazed the rusting metal, it slid open just a few inches with an overloud creaking sound. Nicola jumped at the sudden noise, her eyes widening as they glanced down the stairs as if she were expecting someone to suddenly rush up them. A soft sigh, followed by a nervous laugh, brushed past her lips before she silenced the sound. She felt as though silence was necessary, like one feels in a church or library. Now that the gate was already partially open, she supposed that there was no harm in slipping inside, just to get a closer look. She hadn’t meant to get as close as she was, but that was before she learned that there was no visible lock on this gate. She walked down the first few steps before realizing what she was doing and stopped herself. There was little to see beyond the next couple of steps as the darkness below was all encompassing. It wasn’t that she was afraid of the dark; she had actually learned how to see quite well in such blackness. It was more that she wasn’t entirely sure what was lying within the darkness. She turned and placed a foot on the stair just above her when she heard a noise, perhaps a groan or far off shout? The sound was faint, and she wasn’t sure at first if she had really heard anything. She stood motionless upon the staircase, perched for several seconds, waiting…There! She heard it once again. She cast a glance around the entrance, but as she had feared, there was no one else in the vicinity, at least not above ground. Nicola turned back towards the gaping hole in the ground that was the stairwell down to the dungeon. As much as she still didn’t want to enter this place, she couldn’t just leave without investigating the unexplained noise down below. Maybe another curious traveler such as herself had fallen down the stairs and was now lying in a heap with a broken leg. Though a more sensible part of her mind told her that wasn’t likely to be true, she had to hold to such a thought or she knew she wouldn’t be able to get herself down the staircase. Another sigh escaped her lips as she lifted a heavy foot and set it once again upon the stair; this time heading down into the darkness. |
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| Cain Kaadian | May 26 2009, 01:34 PM Post #2 |
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It had been only short of forever since he had first been put in chains. There was once a time when he had counted the days, but that had passed as his time in them grew longer. It was in the early days of his imprisonment, when he had fought fiercely, each jerk of his chains sounding with an angry clash. Whenever a person would pass before him, he would lunge with even greater force, but to no avail came his efforts. It took less than a year before he was broken, given in to sitting in a miserable heap at the back of his cell. When the last unfortunate felon found himself locked behind the prison's bars was the last time he had seen light. That was his last significant memory, before the empty monotony blurred the days. With the prison no longer in use and the last prisoners quickly dying, he alone became its patron, alone and forgotten, trapped in his eternity by binds that he could not break. Dust and mold had willfully taken the prison over, joyous as they were in its cold, dank, empty chambers. Rats scuttled in, and bats took refuge from time to time within its darkness, but only one remained that recalled the place before the great gate had been shut. That one last survivor spent his silent days curled up in the back of his cell, where he had been chained for years, with rusted shackles dangling around each bony wrist. He had entered the prison as a savage, with red eyes gleaming amidst shoulder-cut jet black strands, framed by a healthy tanned complexion. Now, were light to ever see him, it would find a man whom time had little forgotten; thinned to bone on a diet of stale air, and paled to near-ghost in a room without sun. His hair, once hell-blessed black and manageably short, had grown almost to his own length, as long as he were tall, and powdered with a layer of dust that was permitted to collect by his own lack of movement. He had not moved in the last century, if not the one prior. The prison was dank, and prone to chill, to which he had little defense. In his fight before his capture, his garments had been torn, and his time imprisoned had only given them to decay. Now he sat, his black shirt reduced to ragged strips strewn about his shoulders, and his pants in little better condition as the legs were heavily ripped and the ends tattered and frayed. All that had maintained its fair condition was the leather collar around his neck, and even it was worn and coated with dust. Wearing only threadbare clothing in the dungeon's chilling cold, he had grown numb, no longer prone to shivering, but inclined often to fall to sleep. Every so often he would find himself awakening, not that conciousness appeared any more different than did his times of rest. Whatever he had dreamed, he could never remember it, but knew himself to have been in the midst of a nightmare by the muffled cry he'd give upon his waking. Its source had never mattered to him, as he was certain his nightmares were likely no different from the one that he was living: the same dark silence day after day, without any interruption. This was hell to him, which came significant for one whose origins were that precisely. Again, now, he awoke with a dull moan, blood red eyes blinking open to peer at the expected usual darkness. Yet what he had awoke to was not his normal hell; a light, however faint, brought essence to the structure that had not known such in centuries. Alerted to its illuminating presence, he listened, lacking the will to move so much as to raise his head. He could hear someone, making their way down the steps into the forbidden darkness. Some curious little mind, no doubt. It was some surprise that none had taken it upon them to explore the forgotten wonder sooner. Some child, perhaps it was, or even a lowly grave robber whose head had gotten to thinking that there might be some item of worth in a prisoner's grave. Whatever the case may be, he had not the daring to risk hope that this being would be foolish enough to free him. It was a taste too sweet to savor, when his life was damned to an earthly hell. |
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| Nicola | Jun 6 2009, 01:06 PM Post #3 |
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A musty smell rose from the depths of the discarded prison as Nico slowly made her way down the stairs. The darkness only got thicker as she went lower, causing her to stop every couple of steps to allow her eyes to adjust to the growing darkness. But it wasn’t so much the darkness that she was wary of, it was more the noise, or rather, lack thereof. She would have expected to at least hear the sounds of small animals, mice and bats, as they scurried away from the sudden light that shone down the first several steps. There was the odd flap of wings, but little else. It was as though the thick stone walls and ceiling dampened all sound from below, leaving only softer echoes. She withdrew a small dagger from the sheath where it hung awkwardly at her side. She used the weapon more for cutting and the occasional odd door jam, but she had the feeling that she may need a weapon the further down she went. She finally stepped onto what seemed like level ground, though the stone flooring was still uneven and cracked in a few places from the ages of misuse. She made her way down the corridor carefully so as not to trip. The light didn’t entirely permeate down this far, though a soft yellowish glow clung to the staircase; an echo of the sunlight up above. Nicola glanced at the surrounding walls in search of a torch, but any wooden torch that had hung on these walls when the underground fortress was still in use has long since disintegrated. She didn’t mind the lack of light as she wandered further down the hallway. Her eyes saw well enough in the dark, once she had given them a chance to get used it. She was no owl, but her experience on spying on the Empress’s enemies through darkened halls and streets had sharpened her night vision. She gazed to the right and the left as she made her way down the hall. Most of the cells beside her were bare save for the dust which may have been bedding or bones. There were a few flashes of silver that occasionally caught her eye within one of the cells, though each time it ended up being only strips of broken metal; what was left of cheaper chains that had held certain prisoners in place. When she finally did stumble upon a cell that wasn’t empty, she almost walked right past it, only expecting more of the same emptiness. But what was within that cell stopped her in her tracks, if only because it wasn’t simply dust. She backed up a few steps so that she could see it better, and also to put distance between her and whatever was in that cell directly in front of her. She noticed the chains still attached to what looked like a large lump through the dim light. She couldn’t make out any features at first, and after deciding that she was the one on the outside of the bars, she took a cautious step forward. She was far too curious for her own good and she knew it. She could make out the silhouette first; whatever was in there at least appeared human enough, though much larger than any human she had ever met. She couldn’t imagine any creature surviving in such a place, unless the rumors that certain desert tribes still used the prison to house their disloyal was true. If that were the case, she knew that she didn’t want to be found here. She turned and was about to leave when she thought she saw the faintest hint of movement, maybe in the chains or the creature’s hair? The distraction caused all thought of disloyal tribesmen from her mind as she once more gazed at him. It was then that she noticed something else about him; his red eyes looking directly at her. A small gasp escaped her lips before she could hold it back, though more out of surprise than shock. She wondered how long he had been down here, though that wasn’t the first question on her mind. “Who are you?” |
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| Cain Kaadian | Jun 9 2009, 03:42 PM Post #4 |
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What a curious happening, this trespasser before him. To think one could be so curious as to travel as far into the prison as his desolate cell. The central hall extended well enough beyond him, but his was not in the closer part to the prison's entrance and only known exit. As her figure strode by his cell, his eyes flickered upward at the sound of her footsteps along the cold floor ahead. Hearing the patter stop solid before him, he finally tilted his chin upward, daring now to glance at the body that dared intrude upon such a forsaken and forgotten place. He had not the best eyes for the dark, but he had spent long enough in it to have found a sense of vision with which to see; little in way of detail did his straining eyes see, but shapes vaguely familiar made up for the image in his mind. He glanced her over, hardly moving, until the figure finally spoke. His lips nearly drew back into a sneer. "Kshk!" Long immobile vocal chords came alive with a puffed cough, as though dust had even settled itself deep inside his living body. He nearly choked, containing his struggle quietly, even as blood and bile spit painfully along his dry, cracked throat. Swallowing little more than a mouthful of air in an attempt to reactivate dormant salivary glands, Cain cleared his throat with a barely audible cough, and proceeded to speak in a whisper. He could bare no greater tone. "Who's asking?" His crimson eyes were likely his most striking feature in the prison's deeply set shadows. Only by their inner glow could the narrowed glance of his expression be told, too tired to put up any fight, but unwilling to yet give up the appearance of one with plenty left. After all the time he had spent imprisoned, captivity had yet to break his fierce spirit. For the first time in ages, Cain forced himself to move. His muscles were reluctant at first, having grown unaccustomed to exertion, but soon were pulling stiff and trembling limbs from the stance in which they had become enstatued. Rising shakily to his feet, Cain slowly slid his near-skeletal body forward, literally dragging his feet along the floor. Each step came with a metal rattle before, midway across the length of his cell, a pull forced his body to an abrupt stop. Lowering his eyes, he peered down at the objects that clung to his ankles, shifting one foot to the side to elicit the familiar metallic chorus that had trailed him on his short trek. Drawing his hands up before him, similar objects weighed his weakened arms down, and sang with a freer jangle than that of the ones dragged along the floor. He had to admit, he had forgotten the chains, and the blood and bile only grew to sting his throat hotter. His eyes shot again to the figure outside his cell, a wheezing breath passing his lips as he reserved himself to remain where he stood, though no less bitter about it. With a few short breaths, his lungs heaving at the strain of supporting his own weight, he proceeded to speak again, his voice still the same hoarse whisper. "Do you intend to free me? If not, leave." |
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| Nicola | Jun 14 2009, 09:02 AM Post #5 |
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Nico stood watching the man for several seconds, trying to decide if he was still alive or not. It was until the thing breathed, causing her to jump in surprise, that she figured he probably was still alive. She leaned against the wall across from the cell holding the creature. From there she could still see the man fairly well, but she was also far enough away from the door so that the man’s arms wouldn’t be able to reach her even if was passed them as far as he could through the spaced between the bars. She watched him struggle to talk and squeak out a few words, but she was too distracted to answer right away. Instead she kept her eyes upon his form as he slowly got to his feet. He was shaky, even in the dim light she could see his outline wobble as he stood. It was almost like she was entranced, the way that she stood motionless, her eyes fixed upon him as he stood and began to walk forwards. Part of her wished that she could back up even more; she wasn’t positive that those chains would hold after however many years he had been down here. He shuffled slowly forward; he must not have moved very much in his time spent down here. Just when Nicola was beginning to wonder if she should run for the stairs as fast as her legs could carry her, the chains grew taut, and the man ceased his walking. Apparently there was still plenty of strength in the old metal. She grew a bit bolder now, knowing that he could only move so far. After all, he was quite a beast of a man. ““However, since you asked so nicely, I’ll tell you my name anyway. It’s Nicola, and I’m just a clever little thief who has a penchant for picking locks.” She made sure to add that last part in case it was able to pique his interest in her. “Please, tell me your name.” She doubted that he would say anything, and therefore added a slightly sarcastic note to the last sentence. Just as she said it, her eyes focused more on the door and the simple metal lock that was built into it. It was old, very old, but she was pretty sure that she would still be able to manage it, unless of course it was also sealed with magic. She hoped that if there ever had been a magic spell laid upon the door or the chains that held the man before her, that it had long ago faded away into nothingness. Spells tend to do that when they get left alone for centuries. She took a small step closer so that the bars were within arm’s reach. She knew the outer lock would be simple enough, and even if she opened just the door, he was still bound in chains that would hold him back from her. Maybe just this one lock wouldn’t hurt to be undone. She slipped one of many lock picks seemingly from her sleeve, and made fast work on the lock at hand. It was only a small matter of lining up all of the tumblers within, and this one only had three. It was quite primitive then, though rusty. It didn’t even take a full minute before all the pieces fell into place and with a small ‘click’ the door opened just a crack. It was heavy, but she managed to open it even wider and even stand right in the doorway. Now she stood there instead, leaned sideways against the door frame. “As far as your release goes, I suppose that depends on who you are and what you did to get yourself put in here.” She wasn’t about to let some psychopathic murderer out of the prison that had kept plenty of other people safe during the centuries of his imprisonment. She didn’t think that would bode well for the safety of the realm. |
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| Cain Kaadian | Jun 16 2009, 06:23 PM Post #6 |
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Well, was she not the bold one? Her response this time did cause him to sneer, forcing dry lips to crack as the corners pulled back to narrowly reveal pointed canines amidst the pearls of his jaws. Teeth bared, he glared at her, but submit himself to remain where he was standing. It would have done him no good to lunge for her; it would fail him now just as it had then. Perhaps worse so given his pathetic state. The growl that threatened to emit from his voice caught painfully in the scars of his throat. "You-" He had barely begun, his voice barely raised, before a glob of hot acid shot up from his stomach into his throat. With a snarl, he doubled, sputtering as he quickly sought to release the searing fluid onto the ground at his feet. It dropped from his lips as warm spit, but left a trail of pain in its fiery wake. A hissed cough followed its departure as Cain cursed after it with a vicious snarl, but the damage had been done. The acidic drop served its purpose well as cause for the hound to swallow his pride. "Cain." The submission of his name came with another arid cough, not sharp or loud, but still just as painful. This time, however, it was followed by a powerful coughing fit. Fortunately for him, his choking sputters came with a revival, as spit streamed back into his mouth to form its respective pool of saliva, allowing him at last to wet his leathery tongue. Although not yet enough to wash away the dusty flavor on his tastebuds, it was just enough for him to dampen his lips, as his tongue darted out to slide across them. His breathing was ragged as he worked to regain his breath, but the cracked sneer had relaxed into a strained smirk, although his eyes remained narrowed in agitation at having given up to her his name. If she set him free, it would all be worth it. "- Kaadian." Never in his life would he ever had submit to another being such as this. If they wanted his name, it would have been the last thing he would have ever given them. Yet here he was, sparing his name with little much of a fight. He was desperate; this was the first opportunity to come in centuries, and he was ever so tired of his eternal confinement. As much as it grated against him, he would do anything it took now to take hold of this chance, and to get the hell out of what was, to him, worse than home. When she asked of his crime, however, his panting gave way to a darkly chuckle. He was amused: she could not have asked a worse, or even better, question. His eyes looked squarely at her then, their crimson glow seeming to dance in wicked delight as he proudly declared his answer. "My crime? My crime is coming forth from the darkest pits of hell." |
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| Nicola | Jun 24 2009, 09:05 AM Post #7 |
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She met the sneer with a simple roll of her eyes. She wasn’t the one locked in chains. He could probably struggle all that he wished, strain forward, attempt to attack, but she was out of reach and those chains seemed to be holding well. She considered standing in the doorway and making faces at him, or maybe pulling out some water and cheese that she had with her and eating it in front of him. The ideas made her smile, though she wasn’t really that cruel of a person. She was more likely to give away the water to him, his voice sounded so hoarse and strange, than she was to taunt him about it. She took another cautious step forward as he began to say something. As soon as the word left his lips he was hunched over and practically clutching as his chest and stomach. Her eyes grew wider as she watched, unsure of what to make of this situation. Unconsciously she stepped backwards again, unsure of what was happening to him. He started hissing and spitting, coughing and choking. Maybe she should give him her water after all. She starting digging through her bag, searching for the skin that she had brought with her from Eldahar. His fit seemed to stop just as suddenly as it started. She looked up from her bag just as he sputtered out a word; his name. Really if it was that much trouble for him to speak, then maybe he shouldn’t be saying anything at all. His simple statement was merely followed by coughing, and a lot of it. She finally found the skin of water as his last name was sputtered out. She tossed it over to him and it landed within the reach of his chained arms. She hoped that it would be able to help him speak better, or at least make his coughing subside. “Here, drink some water; it should help your cough.” She hadn’t moved any closer, and she wasn’t planning on doing so just yet. She was starting to wonder how smart it had been to come down here in the first place. She didn’t think that there would be anyone down here anymore; the doors had been closed for so long, or so she had thought. Perhaps she was mistaken, or maybe just lied to. Either way, she didn’t think she would run into a creature from hell while only wanting to do some exploring. She slid down to the floor and sat down cross legged just outside of the door to his cell. He had mentioned that he was from hell, but what exactly did that mean? She wanted to ask him what type of creature he was, but it came out a bit wrong. “Tell me what you are.” She hadn’t meant it to come out so demanding, and she even put a hand sheepishly to her mouth. It was just the noble blood in her seeping through, demanding answers like usual. “I’m sorry, please, won’t you tell me more about yourself?” She moved slightly closer again, remaining seated on the ground where she could better see his face. |
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| Cain Kaadian | Jun 24 2009, 07:07 PM Post #8 |
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He could hear the object fall somewhere near his feet, as well as hear the water that sloshed around inside. What a strange familiarity that was, to even recognise it after all these long dry years. The idea of it caused him to once more lick at his lips, but the thought of accepting help from this girl grated against his nerves. If it were not for the fact that he needed the water, he would stubbornly ignore it. But as it was, his throat was burning and his mouth was still so dry... he bent down to find the skin, having to feel for it in the dark. He had grown so accustomed to not seeing, that he almost could not make it out from the rest of the darkness, but his hand found it just fine, and the jangle of chains against the stone floor signified his dragging it toward him. The skin was not something the hellhound was familiar with, so opening it was a secret that lay well beyond him. He turned it around in his hands a few times, red eyes narrowing in frustration as looked the object over and found still no answer to how he was supposed to get the water out for his parched and dried-out mouth. With a growl, he gave up on trying to open it properly, and invented his own means to the water inside. Fangs bared, he bit into the skin savagely, and shook it until water flowed freely to the relief of his mouth. His head tilted back, allowing the liquid to pour down his dry throat, before another coughing fit hit him, causing him to drop the skin and drop back away, sputtering. This time it had not been caused by a dry throat, but by his own greed, as he accidentally inhaled the water. "Damn... stupid..." He muttered between coughs, until his airway cleared and his breathing began to settle once more. Even choking, his voice did sound clearer after he had drank, although it still had an unused softness about it. The more he talked, the more likely that that, too, would fade. Recovering, he returned back to the skin, feeling around to find it, and picked it up once more. This time he did not lift it with a hand, but instead with his mouth. He continued to chew on it, squeezing it for all the water it contained, but he did drink it more slowly, having learned his lesson. When he had had his full, and nearly emptied it of all its contents, he tossed it back to Nico with a huff, and backed himself away. His eyes fixed on her in a glare, as he realised his shame- to be acting like such a desperate animal, ready to cower beneath her boot. While it was his own fault, he still blamed her for it, glowering hatefully with his crimson eyes. "Don't think... that I owe anything to you... for that." He growled, still kneeling on the floor. Because she had also sat on the ground, it was not as much an insult for him to also remain low, but he did make certain to get on his feet, however crouched, to assert his dominance. Cain could not stand to be beneath or equal to another. Her demanding had nearly set him off- he was not a beast to be ordered- but her change in tone set him calming again, although seething at her initial demand. He remained still a moment, debating whether to answer her, with his arms resting atop his knees. Behind him, something slid back and forth along the floor. It moved lazily, and unconcerned, however bothered its owner may have been- Cain's tail, a long and boney appendage that until then had not been obvious amidst all the dark. Raising himself off the floor, Cain returned to the extent of his chains, and crouched as near to Nico as he possibly could. His glowing red eyes glinted in the darkness, as a richly-toned whisper passed by his lips. "I am a hellhound, the most savage beast among dogs. Years ago, I broke free from hell, and emerged in this land, burning a path fit to be legendary. Many corpses fell burning in my wake, houses destroyed, lives ruined... I was unstoppable. Until-" He cut himself off with a snarl, lashing, for the first time since Nicola's arrival, against his chains. The effort proved fruitless, as had been expected, and he settled down once more with a deadly growl. It was fairly clear that it was not meant for her, but for whomever it was intended, its tone was murderous. "That bastard..." |
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| Nicola | Jul 22 2009, 12:57 PM Post #9 |
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She had watched the water skin fall to the ground and her eyes were once again drawn to it when the man’s hands reached out and picked it up. She found it strange that he had trouble opening the water skin; it was pretty standard and had been as long as she had been around. Yet the fact that he seemed entirely at a loss as to how to work the thing, well maybe that was a sign as to how long he had truly been down here. It had to be decades at the very least, if not full centuries. But instead of simply popping off the cork top, like she would have, he ripped the entire leather pouch into pieces with his teeth. She opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it at the sight of the damage that those teeth had done. Well, at least he seemed to have gotten some water out of it, though now she had no idea what she would do for water on her way out of the desert. On the bright side, he had lightened her load, and she supposed that was a good thing, though she would still rather have the water. Feeling slightly sulky now, she picked up a rock and began rolling it around within the palm of one hand as she watched him lift the skin to his mouth once more. He reminded her of a dog, the way that he gnawed on the leather to suck out the water. What kind of creature was this? The more time she spent with him, the less human he seemed. She flinched slightly as he tossed back the strip of shredded leather that had once been her water skin, shutting her eyes as what little water remained inside of it sprayed at her when it hit the ground. Slowly, she drew a hand up to her face and wiped off a few droplets of water from her cheek as she reopened her eyes, a dry look on her face as she looked at him once more. “Of course you owe me a replacement…especially since I’m going to break you out of here.” She wasn’t exactly sure when she had made up her mind to help him out, but she certainly couldn’t just leave him there either. After learning that he was still alive, she felt as though she had little choice in the matter, especially since she had the capability to pick the locks on his chains and set him free. She was given such talents for a reason after all; it would be a shame not to use them. As he leaned ever closer, Nico herself leaned further back. She didn’t have to physically move from the spot, as his chains prevented him from being able to reach through the doorway. She had always considered herself to be fairly brave and courageous, at least compared to the other noblewomen that paraded around Kinaldi, yet this giant of a man with a rasping, scratching voice was a bit unnerving, and it didn’t take long to learn why. He wasn’t a man at all. “I’ve never met a hellhound before…” Nico couldn’t really stop the words from coming out, for his confession increased, not her fear, but her curiosity. It set her mind reeling, wondering about what he could do, how strong he was, could he breath fire? She was wondering about that strange reaction he had earlier before giving his name and wondered if that had anything to do with his strange race as well. The thrashing of chains brought her back to the moment with a mild flinch. She frowned at the hellhound as he swore, though she merely assumed that the ‘bastard’ was the person who had gotten him locked up here. Well, that she could fix. Once again she pulled out the leather case that held her series of lock picks and selected a pair of slender metal rods with tipped and curved ends. Changing her position to that of a crouch, she moved forward one step, though still out of his reach. “I am going to come close enough to examine those locks. Don’t you dare attempt to bite, scratch, or otherwise mangle me or I swear that I will leave you down here to rot for the rest of eternity.” Her eyes were fixed on his and her voice held a very serious tone to it. She crept even closer now, moving carefully and slowly, her whole body tense enough to jump out of the way at the first sign that he was about to try anything. She first moved to his right side and tackle the chains around his arms and legs on that side of his body. The picks moved slowly and purposefully within the locks as she looked him over again now that she was closer than she had yet been to him. Her hands didn’t need her eyes to do this job, as they knew exactly what needed to be done simply by feel. “What’s with the collar? Is it because you are part dog?” She smiled at her own attempt at a joke during a time such as this. Hopefully the comment wouldn’t set him off again. |
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| Cain Kaadian | Aug 3 2009, 07:17 AM Post #10 |
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As much as he was tempted to attack her as she came within reach, he refrained with the knowledge that her approach meant future freedom from the rusted chains. Nonetheless, he greeted her with a growl, watching her warily with gleaming red eyes. To any who knew less of him, closer inspection would have revealed a man with a tall, but rather unthreatening figure; Cain was horribly thin, and the shredded decrepit remains of his black shirt did little to hide this fact. His pants, while still intact enough to still look like pants, were little better off than the shirt, with long ripped lines slashed in all directions across his legs. Black hair had grown out long, trailing down his back until it reached the floor, where it dragged along in a layer of dust. If not for the curved horns on either side of his skull, or for the claws that tipped each toe and finger, any other person would have only laughed at the sorry excuse locked up in chains... at their own expense. For a brief moment, he watched her work with interest, having never understood the mechanism behind the lock to ever assume it could be opened with anything other than the key. A wonder, that was, to imagine where such a thing had disappeared to in all this time. The locks would always remain, but the fate of the key was yet a mystery... to what sorry hands had it fallen, or had it been swallowed by the desert's sands, lost but not yet forgotten? Evidently, its existence was of no necessity, if one could simply pick the lock as easily as she had the door to his cell. He would be impressed, if he were not one of such sour temperment as to give no one their due. His fascination was fast lost, however, as she made comment on his collar. The growl, which had not in all that time gone away, picked up louder in way of threat. Nearest her, his hand curled into a fist, but he resisted the urge to attack her, preferring the prospect of freedom to a dead corpse sharing his cell. But the same, the growl had not died, clearly unamused by her joke. Finding his voice, Cain nearly spat his disgust; if only he yet had enough saliva to spare. "Do not compare me to a dog!" He snarled and continued to growl, but managed to relax his fist. His eyes were narrowed hatefully, teeth bared to reveal sharp canine fangs. Cain certainly was not one to control his anger, all too used to reacting with reckless abandon. Yet here he was now, maintaining himself with all but a thread; the years had taken a toll on him, and while his spirit had little been broken, he more strongly desired to be unchained. While that kept him at bay, it put no stopper on him voicing just why he wished never to be compared to a dog. "Those miserable little creatures, readily serving men... I am no pet! I am a hellhound! I serve no man!" As for the collar, he made no comment, narrowing his eyes with a low growl taking possession of his throat. It would do him better if he made no remark on it, for he did not want to inspire any ideas within this peculiar woman's mind. With luck, he could escape her, without her ever discovering the secrets behind the engravings that more than decorated the leather's outer surface. |
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| Nicola | Aug 4 2009, 04:15 PM Post #11 |
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Nicola tried to keep herself calm as she worked at the locks around his wrists, which were more complicated than the one on the prison door. Internally, she was arguing with herself whether or not this was even a good idea to begin with. Clearly this creature, who hadn’t stopped growling and glaring since she had first set eyes upon him, was what he said he was. What with everything else going on in the world right now, she doubted that it needed a hellhound. But the sight of someone in chains, one who had never wronged her personally, wasn’t one that she could easily walk away from. But was it right to set free a prisoner if the creature in chains was a hellhound? But her mind was made up, and if she could help the man escape she would. He didn’t look all that dangerous, wearing little more than rags, but she wasn’t one to let appearances fool her. Her guard remained up and she was prepared to jump away at the first sign of any increased outward hostility. So when the growl increased and his hand began to curl, she retreated back towards the doorway even though no attack came. It was better to be safe than dead, but clearly the thought of getting out meant a lot to him if he was able to hold back. Clearly calling him a dog wasn’t exactly the right thing to say. Who would have guessed? It wasn’t as though she had meant to insult him. She’d make a note for future reference that even though he was part hound, apparently ‘dog’ was an insult to those of his oh-so-noble race. What he said about dogs serving humans actually did make a bit of sense, but did he really need to growl about it? Well maybe he just felt the need to growl about everything; it wasn’t as though he had stopped growling in the past five minutes. When he was finished with his rant, Nico straightened and placed her hands on her hips, sending what she hoped was a mean glare in his direction. She had meant no disrespect, but obviously she had no idea what a hellhound considered proper conversation, having never met one before. “Stop that growling if you want to get out of here.” Nico wagged one of the lockpicks at him much like a mother reprimanding a child. She didn’t put her picks away, but she wasn’t going to work at the locks again if he was planning on yelling at her every two seconds when she was only trying to help. Her bleeding heart wouldn’t give him that much pity. It wasn’t like she was asking him to roll out the red carpet or anything, but a little appreciation for what she was doing for him would be nice. Then again, maybe ‘nice’ was too much to ask from a hellhound. |
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| Cain Kaadian | Aug 25 2009, 07:46 PM Post #12 |
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Cain watched her with wary eyes as she got up and backed away. Giving a quick tug on the chain revealed the lock to still be securely sealed, not that he had had any thought that she might have finished, given that she had only just begun. He jerked it again, thoroughly irritated, and watched her with both gleaming eyes. The growl, of course, had yet to leave him, finding no pleasure in the incident at all. As great as it was that someone was willing and foolish enough to free him, he was still far from being a beast of much gratitude. The very instant he was unchained he had every intention of rushing out, embracing freedom on four fast legs and never taking a moment to glance back at his freer. He would not take the chance of having to bow his head to this woman... he had had enough of mortalkind. Whether or not Nico was aware of it, she had worded her command perfectly. The first word alone caused Cain to freeze, drawn from his thoughts of escape with a sudden jolt as an energy pulsed from his collar down his spine. Stop, no more need have been said, for it were only one of several that the magic runes recognised and thus forced the hound to obey. In an instant, he was silent, eyes marginally widened and teeth clenched tight as his mind tried to fight against it. No matter how much he struggled, he could not make so much as a peep against her, his vocal chords locked from producing his constant growl. A hand slowly reached upward, but did not stray far before dropping to the ground again, knowing full well the folly of attempting to remove the hated collar. Closing his eyes, he turned away from her, unwilling to admit his defeat. "Just..." He croaked, regaining control of his vocals. For a moment, his voice was strained, but grew stronger as he continued, the magic relenting as the command's affects wore off. "Just get on with it. I want out already. I've been down here too long." After years after years of darkness, too many for him to count, he wanted to see sunlight again. He longed for the gift of sight, and to hear something greater than the deafening silence of his solitary cage. To eat and drink... to do more than just sleeping, and waiting, and dreaming nightmares that differed little from his time awake, he wanted to live again. This Nico had become too tempting for him; the hopes he had been determined not to raise did infact rise, and now he was too far to turn back. A dog, as much as he despised it, drooling at the end of his chain, with freedom held aloft like a juicy steak, and she, Nico, the temptress between whose fingers the wanted item dangled. "Set me free." He grumbled, turning back to her with partially narrowed eyes. Never would he allow himself to plead, to lower himself to so low a level as to stay on his knees and beg. It was bad enough that he was crouched so low already. "Soon... I want to see sunlight." |
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| Nicola | Oct 8 2009, 11:19 AM Post #13 |
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Her narrowed eyes watched him struggle with the chain that she had yet to break him free of. He seemed supremely frustrated at still being locked to the cell, but she couldn’t work under such conditions. If he really wanted to get free, he certainly wasn’t showing it. The more he struggled and fidgeted, the more difficult it was for her to maneuver her delicate instruments in the locks that held him down. The chain rattled again as he pulled at it a second time, but once again a strange thing happened. He had gone silent, quieter than she had yet seen him since she first entered the dungeon. With those wide eyes and jaw muscles clenched tight, he seemed to be fighting with himself. He could barely even raise his arm. But why was that? What had happened that had caused this reaction from him? Silently she ran their previous conversation through her mind. She was the last one who had spoken before this change in behavior from him, but could simple words have this type of effect on such a creature? Was there some magic here at work that she did not know about? That wouldn’t surprise her one bit, as she knew very little about magic herself. Nico tried to think of the exact wording that she had used, and she wondered if her commanding tone had really worked that well, or if he was intentionally acting strange to keep her off her guard. Perhaps she would have to test her theory before long. As he began talking again she cautiously drew closer, still perplexed at his previous reaction. He had finally begun to speak again, though his words were just as polite as she had expected from him. Perhaps now would be the perfect time for a couple of tests on her new found friend. He was still chained up, and she doubted that he would want to hang around for long after she released him. She held up her lock picks again as she tried to keep the clever smirk from her face. “Since you are so much taller than me, this will be difficult if you remain standing. Sit down and stay like that until I am finished.” Once again she added just a bit of a command to her words, wondering if they would have the same effect on him as what she had said before. She drew closer still; ready to break him free whenever he decided to make it easy for her to reach his chains. Would her words really work on him this time or had she been completely off in her hypothesis? She would find out soon enough. |
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| Cain Kaadian | Oct 12 2009, 12:54 PM Post #14 |
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He glowered at her quietly as she drew again nearer, lock picks in hand. If not for those, he'd have chewed her through at a moment's notice, prefering the peace of a rotting body to the exploitation of his rotten curse. But alas, freedom drew a breath far sweeter than did the whisper of peaceful silence... no, he had had enough of silence. Silence was a tormenter after time grew old, tickling his patience with an unheard snicker of satisfaction. Freedom was a goddess, to whose side he would so happily leap, although undoubtedly abandon should the situation not suit his savor. This woman, Nico, had stood to become her embodiment, although he would treat her far worse than he would some fabricated goddess of a concept much desired... Surely he had been locked up too long, for his thoughts were bordering alongside ridiculous. "Sit down-" Only enough time was spared for his eyes to glimpse upward in alarm, his body already in process of obediance. No sooner had he given an upward glance, the collar surged with energy, and he could feel himself dropping backward. His bottom made contact with the cold stone floor and both legs sprawled awkwardly to either side. His hands drew out before him, pressed against the floor in an undeniable canine fashion. Behind him, his tail lay out flat in a line as he gawked with a flabberghasted expression at the woman standing before him. "- and stay-" Now he could not move, his body frozen in place with the same bewildered expression, although that was free to change. For the moment however, he had not expected it, as much as he now was sure he should have. Was she on to him? With the unwitting look on his face, she must have been. It was too late to save himself. Like the drop of a dime his anger flew, and while still held in place his hands balled up into clenched fists, teeth quickly reverting to sharpened fangs as gleaming red eyes glinted off of the surface of his curled black horns, giving off the impression of a demon enraged. A growl unlike his former murmur of discontent arose from his throat, a full-hearted rumble of hatred poured through bared canine teeth. "DAMN YOU! Damn you to bloody hell! Just wait until I get my fangs into you, you cursed bitch! I'll bite your pretty damn face off!" To say he was seething was an understatement; Cain was outright furious. He had come so close to escaping without her ever finding out, but no... he could never be so lucky, could he? The distasteful woman just had to pry. "You and your damn curiousity! I swear I'm gonna tear out your scrawny little throat!" His hands trembled as he tried to lift them away to pull at his chains, but the spell held him strong, keeping all but his mouth and his idle threats still. Frustrated, he roared out in rage, but the futility of it made his fuss out as nothing more than a tantrum. With the collar forcing him to stay, he was powerless to her whims. Just like a dog, he was under her command. |
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| Nicola | Oct 29 2009, 10:46 PM Post #15 |
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Nico had stopped when she was just an arm’s length away; his arm, not hers. Just in case she was incorrect in her theory and he got tired of waiting for her to eventually set him free and decided to take a swipe at her instead, she knew she was out of reach. But then she saw the look in his eyes as he forcefully sat on the ground with his hands in front of him looking very much like the hound that he said he was. She seemed just as surprised as he was by his actions. He was frozen to the spot, but that didn’t seem stop him from being able to talk. “Such a mouth you have on you. Tsk tsk. You aren’t going to touch me if I don’t let you out, and even if I do, I’m sure I could find a way to stop you.” The word stop had a slightly teasing tone, but no hint of a command. It was her way of letting him know that she was getting the hang of how this magic worked, even if she didn’t fully understand yet where it came from. She didn’t know how long he would remain immobile, but now was the time to make her move. Hoping that setting him free would help to abate at least some of his anger, Nico moved in and worked her lock picks as quickly as she could. It still took several long seconds on each of the locks that were keeping the chains securely in place around his neck and limbs, but they were really no trouble for her. When she reached the chain around her neck, her eyes fell once more on the leather collar that also sat there. In that instant it all became clear. She could sense the magic coming from the collar now that Cain was following a command, though when she had noticed it before, there had been nothing. It had to be the collar that forced his actions when certain words were said; words that seemed like commands she would give to a dog. The irony wasn’t lost on her. She would have to eventually figure out what all the command words were, but for now she swiftly kept at her task. As soon as the last chain fell to the ground, she backed up to the doorway of the prison cell once more, unsure of just how he would react. “I’m sure that freedom tastes much better than my pretty damn face would.” She acted out her typical confidence, but she was ever wary of this unpredictable creature. Her eyes never left his face and upper body, sure that either his eyes or the muscles in his shoulders would give away an early warning sign of his actions if and when he was able to move again. But just to be on the safe side, she figured that it couldn’t hurt to give him a reminder of the trick that she had learned. “Remember that it wouldn’t take me more than a split second to tell you to stop or stay back if you did decide to try for my throat, so I would advise you against doing any such thing.” |
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