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Snippet #1479462

located in Norr, a part of The Gift: Chapter Two, one of the many universes on RPG.

Norr

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Forest, Former Scout Tower

He was on a hard surface, arms bound behind him, skin raw from trying to loosen or break them but with little success. His thick black hair is matted and damp against his head, skin clammy yet the only moisture seems to pool near his face. His body aches, arms and shoulders as well as back cut and treated from many quick swipes, as if he had been mauled by some feral creature. In the darkness burning crimson eyes stab out at him as silence begins to drown his mind.

Gormun opened his eyes slowly, mind bent between want of sleep and the fear of the memories. His skin felt like old paper as stress and pain filled it with wrinkles, skin haggard and aged well beyond his years in only a few days. He closed his eyes again, a wounded noise rising from his throat as the gnawing push of his empty stomach greeted his fitful attempt at sleep. His body seemed asleep and numb, the cold stone floor beneath him offering no comfort as an almost continuous drip of water fell from above on the center of his head. If he were at his best it would be of no concern, but trapped in place devoid of time or strength each drop was a hammer into his skull. His mouth twitched, inside tasting foul of the dirt and grime he had sucked in with what pathetic moisture he could get from the floor. His only source of water.

He had come to in this darkness and time seemed different here. It was sluggish and thick, a soup that pressed in the air and caught in his throat with each breath. He feared it could suffocate him if the hunger didn’t kill him first. He knew someone- no, that wasn’t right… Something was in here with him. A dark presence that leaned on his exhausted mind and pressed him with the reminder: this could always get worse.

Something shifted, no sound made, as a metallic foot pressed into his back along with five long, sharp blades that seemed to move as talons would on another creature. Each one carefully pressing across his back, yet nowhere that would threaten his life if he tried to shove into it to die and escape it all. Each talon pressing into his flesh than releasing, the sensation almost like needle legs of a spider climbing his flesh, forcing his skin open to draw blood.

”Speak.” A cold whisper forced itself from the darkness. The presence was behind him yet the voice enveloped him, cold sound clear in his head and more commanding than any shout he could have mustered. A terrible voice that spoke little but demanded much.

He set his jaw, clenching it tight as lips quivered, not willing to give in yet. Eyes forced shut and drawing lines on his face as he waited for metal claws to set into his body, furrowing and shredding his skin and forcing them to mend, and repeat.

”Release them.”

The command was not to him yet it was confusing. His eyelids lifted as he gazed at the small margin of floor shown before him. Something forced into the back of his head, his resistance gone as forehead hit stone, fingers grabbing his hair as the metal claws wrapped just over the top of his head, each one scoring a cut on his brow. The pain came swiftly but it was dull to him now, he was losing connection with his body. The hand was gripped tight and strong, jerking his head back and forcing his gaze out as something was dumped across the floor.

A deathly white face, almost bleached of color with blue lips and bulging eyes, met his gaze, despair etched upon the other so cleanly it was as if it was set into marble. The lone arrow still protruding from the back of Corporal Yanis’ head as he was left before Gormun. The sight caused a cringe but the grip prevented him from looking away. The next thud made his body jump as something much darker obscured the halfling, skin tinged gray and black, face down in the floor as a deep and long cut had removed some of where his neck should have been.

His face was familiar.

Memories pushed in his head, ones he could not sift or ignore as they filed past him in a rush and a name came out, his voice stale from lack of use. “Brack…” At once the memories attached to the name overwhelmed him and Gormun realized his brother had been slain. A wound tore in his mind, greater than any pain he had felt, or the starvation he endured. His eyes closed but were devoid of tears he could not shed as his body clenched onto any water it held. His only brother was gone, dead from only one blow and not safe to warn the Shawoman. He heard a noise that sounded like a wounded animal and not his own voice yet he wasn’t sure if it was real.

”Speak.”

Another shriek tore from his chest, a savage roar as his hope was snatched away from him, “Demon Spawn! Your vileness is only measured by foul acts you reap. May the Horde and Shawoman smite your actions.”

”…Shawoman?”

His eyes opened as his mind froze. In his weakness his mind ignored his oath and broke his honor. For to guard the Shawoman was to deny her existence to those that did not know. His head hit the stone floor as he realized the foot and the hand had left him, the distinct sound of metal talons clacking around on the stone before him. The figure knelt down, even in a place devoid of most light he could see the faint, dark crimson of the armor. The being was just before him, yet just inside his reach, taunting him to try and make a move. Even if he could his body wouldn’t listen.

”Where?” The whisper pushed at him, drilling into his mind with a command that could tame worgs if it wished. Yet no magic touched it, just promises of what may come if disobedience was the answer.

Gormun twisted his head and tried to look away, biting on the tip of his tongue and pushing out the pain. Teeth weak yet desperate to try and cut through the muscle before he shed any more. Something traced over his neck, softly kissing yet cold and chilling. Head lifting up to break away as the movement followed until the claws hooked in the bottom of his chin, pressing until they drew droplets of his blood. He shut his eyes. He couldn’t take it anymore. Pleading for forgiveness from the angels his eyes snapped shut and in a wavering voice he divulged the location of the town and where the Shawoman should be.

His mind had broken.