Rivenmarch

It was some relief to find that Terral may have been convinced that Fera's bones couldn't resemble. By no means were such attacks painful but rather frightening, and still is, to see one's own limbs flying in the air, facing blades and weapons, then possibly Death. Frightening to contemplate such a thing. What will happen when Fera dies? Rebirth in Eldrath? In another world? Nothing? Walking for the rest of her life as a ghost?
As long as she didn't come back human into THIS...

Merrin was right though, Terral was no doubt dissapointed in her shows, an achievement she holds high. He thought he could just place Fera in a cage and, Tada!, one more show worth the investment. The first few shows that Fera had done, she was silent, unmoving, and uninteresting. People were furious because they thought they were getting scammed but then she had started to move. That pleased Terral and intrigued the small crowds that had gathered around her. Then she started to speak. It was easy to argue with such humans and dominate the reality of the spoken word; after all she had about 2 and a 1/2 centuries worth of practice and philosophy. People who have seen her shows always came out sad, confused or infuriated because they didn't see the show they wanted, an example of the undead that their holy doctrine is supposed to protect them from, and instead were subject to reality. There was no doubt that Terral was dissapointed in her shows.

"Listen, Fera, I'd like to stay and chat, but I've got two more murals to finish before tonight, not to mention some of the signs need touching up... I'll try to talk with Terral, see what he has planned for you. If it's anything... gruesome, I'll do my best to stop it, you have my word."

Fera looked at the artist for a moment, confused, with a sudden question coming to mind: Why was Merrin doing this? Speaking to her, comforting her, being her friend? He didn't seem to have anything to gain from such things. Was it just sincerity? Common sense breaking through the mold of human behavior? The outlier of the demographic?
"Thank you Merrin." The skeleton spoke plainly, shaking the chains that one of her two arms were bound to and waved goodbye to the artist as he exited through the flaps of the tent. Fera looked up at the ceiling of her cage when he had left, making it a reasonable deduction that it was made of the same metal as the cage, as well as the incredibly small space of floor she stood in. The chains that draped around her limbs were slightly thin (who'd put dwarven chains around a skeleton?) but plentiful, breakable but it would take time, precious time. She needed to escape from this place now more then ever if Terral was going to intervene in her show. Fera didn't know what he was going to do but it was logical to believe he would benefit and she would suffer. With that knowledge in mind, she slowly started to pull her left armin, keepig the chains silent, and pressure the chains into submission.

If she could free that one arm, maybe, maybe she could be free. If Terral is the only man with keys to open the cell, she would act as if the arm was still bound, and then when he was close enough, grab him, and force him to free her. Perhaps it was foolish but doing nothing would be but a demise.

Merrin wandered around in the labyrinth of canvas for a while trying to find his way to the dancer's enclosure. 'Why do they have to set up these cursed tents differently each time.' Regrettably his meanderings brought him into the path of some of the hands, huge bulls of men with little appreciation of the arts.

"Why lookee here, if it isn't Scribbler."

His friend's chortled, "where ya off to Scribbler? Goin' ta see yur girlfriend?"

"No I..."

"Hey why don't you tell her to eat more, put some meat on those bones."

"Very funny, now would one of you please point me toward the dark elf's tent, I've got an important mural to finish."

"You hear that boys, Scribbler's got sum scribbles need scribblin'."

After they were finished laughing one of them gave Merrin a less than friendly shove toward a large nearby tent, "there ya go Scribbler, make sur'ya get a good look at her, she's a beauty." Chuckling over some private joke, they walked off leaving the painter to enter the tent alone. He looked into the cage expecting to see the lithe and lovely form of the tainted elf but instead beheld the grotesque bulk of an ogre. The sight so surprised him that he nearly stumbled out the door. Far more alarming than the Ogre however was the sharp point which suddenly prodded into his back and the strong fingers which hooked round his throat. "Pahl volkran, human," a guttural voice sounded close to his ear, "move and you die."

Sylvina stood up and placed her hands on the bars as she leaned closer looking over the cleric as she spoke silently taking in her form. Sylvina couldn't tell if the cleric was actally caring about her or not but it didn't matter she knew no human salvation could be good.

"Ka dos daewl ulu dormagyn uns'aa yathrin t'yin duul'sso uns'aa dal nindol kul'gobsula lu' ori'gato uns'aa alu delmah. Ka dos daewl ulu olplynir ussta eluith'orth lu' i'dol d' dro t'yin Usstan xun naut ssrig'luin dosst zuneerrh" <If you wish to save me priestess then free me from this prison and let me go home. If you wish to steal my faith and way of life then I do not need your salvation> She spoke in her dark language. She was sure the cleric could put it together well enough to get the point. Drow was just a darker form of elvish..just as the drow people where a darker form of elf.

After this she spoke nothing more looking over the cleric again before pushing herself from the bars. She then would gracefully sit leaning her back against the cage and running a hand though her short snow white hair showing that air of elven arrogance common to all kinds of elves with a sly little smile as she looked back up at the human cleric.

Dalaine listened. The language differed from elvish, but the two were similar enough to convey the meaning, 'she wanted her freedom... Not surprising really.' The cleric responded as best she could, "I'm afraid that is out of the question. There are laws in Cathandria which prohibit your... kind wandering freely."

"What did she say," Terral asked leaning a bit to close for the cleric's comfort.

Dalaine took a step back from the repugnant man before answering, "she wants to be set free of course."

Terral laughed, "oh really, my best selling show. I'd sooner lop my hand off than let her out... So have you seen enough, Your Reverence, have I... assuaged your concerns?"

Dalaine pondered the question as they left. Tis true all the monsters seemed securely contained and she could count on the man's own avarice to assure they remained so. "Terral had you the audacity to set up this mockery of entertainment inside town borders I would have had every one of your beasts put to the sword and you jailed for the horrendous indecency of your exhibits... Unfortunately, you're to smart to make that mistake, aren't you."

"You honor me Your Oneness."

Unexpectedly she whirled on him, brandishing a raised finger like a sword. Terral stepped back as she brought it down to his face, "Do Not Forget. I will be watching you, Terral. For as long as your show remains paladins will stand guard outside. If they see ANYTHING alarming, they will purge this ground of every single monster and drag you back to Rivenmarch to answer for yourself. Are we clear?"

"...Perfectly your Emminance..."

"Good, then I will leave you to your sin." Walking alongside her armored guard she returned to the other Paladins who still waited beside their grazing horses. When they finally rode off, four stayed behind. Terral watched them like a rat eyeing a family of cats from its hole. When one of his men came by, he grabbed him by the collar and wrenched his ear down to whispering range. "Get a few of the sneakier shits on the crew, have them watch the bucket heads. Make Sure they don't find the skeleton."

"Right Boss."

A savage grin spread across Wrex's face as he watched the young orc wrap his hand around the throat of the human. A knife in the man's back Tadik growled into his ear.

"Pahl volkran, human.... move and you die."

Tadik spoke low his voice heavy with intent. The human swallowed hard in fear before speaking.

"W-What d-do you want from m-me?"

"The key. For his cell and bindings. Mok-thorin ka mor'shan... I would have him free."

Merrin froze as the realization dawned on him like the sun on a bloodied battlefield. The key on his belt suddenly seemed very heavy as his mind raced for some means to get out of this. This orc would surely kill him after he opened the cell if not the ogre would. Merrin had attempted to speak to some of the monsters here. He knew them to be more than mere animals yet this ogre had never taken to Merrin. The painters attempts at communication had only been met with growls and silent threats. To be honest being in the presence of the massive ogre unnerved and frightened him. Once freed Goliath would certainly go on a rampage killing everyone in sight. He could not let that happen but what choice did he have. If he refused he would die right here and the orc would loot his body for the key and the same result would occur anyway. He would be forced to do as the orc wanted and hope for an opportunity for escape. Perhaps he could warn the guard or the knights he saw ride in earlier and have the insurrection put down before Goliath and his orc accomplice could do too much damage. Merrin slowly put his hands up showing his surrender.

"T-the key... It is on my belt.... I w-will free Goliath just please, don't kill me."

"Move."

Tadik snarled as he pressed the knife in ever so slightly causing a wince of pain from Merrin. The human lowered his hand to his belt. His shaky hands having trouble with the clasp releasing the key. Once key was in hand he took the few steps towards the cell door and put the key in the lock. The tumbler clicked and the door swung open. Now with the door open Merrin's breathes were coming in rapid succession as his heart began to pound. After a quick prodding from the young orc Merrin stepped inside the cage.

Wrex's body seemed alive with pure energy as the seconds passed by. The human grabbing the key, opening his cell door. He could almost feel the freedom. The painter stepped in and slowly and hesitantly stepped up to Wrex. His eyes ever on the big ogre as if he was staring into the abyss. His entire body trembling with terror as he continued to move. He grabbed the lock fastening Wrex to the chains. His trembling hands struggled to put the key in the lock but he managed it after a few tense seconds. Once the key was in he paused and looked up at Wrex. For a brief moment the human's eyes and the ogre's locked. Time slowed as the two looked at each other. Fear, apprehension, pleading all displayed in Merrin's. Rage, fury and loss all displayed in Wrex's

"When I-I f-free you.... Will you kill me?"

Merrin asked. Over the past year Merrin had seen the ogre many times. Spoken to him several times. Each word he uttered, each phrase, each syllable seemed carefully watched and studied. The expression and demeanor of the ogre always made Merrin feel he was much smarter than what Terral would have others believe. Wrex leaned forward. His face a hairs breath from Merrin's. His expression, calm yet terrifying like the approach of some savage, apocalyptic storm.

"Release me... and see for yourself."

Wrex spoke, the words deep and meaningful. The painter's eyes went wide with shock at the realization that Wrex spoke the same language or at the very least had some how learned enough to reply to him. Merrin nodded and took in a shuddering breath before turning the key. The lock clicked and Wrex slowly removed his shackles and dropped them to the cage floor. His eyes then rose and locked on to Merrin once more. The painter stood there and the utter realization that he was standing inside a cage with the ogre who had been enslaved for just under a year and was now free seemed to consume him. Suddenly in an explosion of motion Wrex surged forward and wrapped one massive hand around Merrin's throat and part of his chest. In an instant the painter was pinned to the cage floor under the relentless crushing grip of the ogre. Merrin groaned in pain and struggled to get air in his lungs as Wrex leaned in and growled viscously.

"My name..... is...not Goliath... I am Urdnot Wrex. Lok-regar ogull, on-dabu... I am ogre again."

With that Wrex released his hold on Merrin and followed Tadik out of the cell leaving the terrified man cowering in confusion and shock. Once out of his cell but still in his tent Wrex stood to his full imposing height and stretched, getting the crampness out of his joints and muscles.

"You do not kill the human cousin?"

Tadik asked curiously. Wrex rolled his shoulders as his blood finally felt alive once more.

"No... That one did not take me. He did not ... uhh... chain me. But those who did are near Tal'vashoth... I can smell them."

"What do you want to do then?"

Tadik asked. A low rumbling growl rolled out of Wrex's throat.

"Kill them all."

With that Wrex stepped out of the tent into the light of the sun. He relished the warmth on his skin, the feel of the cool breeze once more. He clenched his fists and threw back his head and let loose a mighty roar that bellowed out in a long and hearty call to arms. Hoots and howls and roars in return instantly began being heard from the other tents.