Jli escapes.
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One dark night during a thick fog, a merchant ship arrives in the port of Peltarch. The belly of the ship is set low in the water, her berth spilling over with cargo. Deckhands snap quickly to their task as crate and barrel are hoisted over rail and steadied upon the dock.
The hour grew late and the lantern oil grew thin. Darkness crept across the now naked dock. Crew and officer alike slipped down cobbled street and dark alley in search of drink, song or the price of a temporary reprieve from loneliness.
The nightwatch on deck never saw the shadow slip over the rail and down the gangline. Quietly, into the night he passed without event.
A few weeks later, some merchants in caravan arrive outside of the gypsy camp carrying spices and cloth. Amongst them is a thin figure shrouded in a cloak and sitting alone, away from their campfire.
You set your gaze upon a bizarre spectacle of a man. Across one eye he bears a leather patch, which is incapable of hiding the full scar upon his cheek. The wicked scar extends diagonally across the side of his face, disappearing beneath the leather strap. The scar appears to be a deep burn mark, perhaps from some instrument of torture.
In fact, the whole left side of his face is disfigured. You note that he is also missing his entire left ear. The scar where his ear should have been appears to be a clean laceration, revealing that his ear was deliberately removed. However, you might also note that there are no indications of healing applied to the area, and thus you deduce that this wound may also have been caused by deliberate torture.
Some of the wounds on his person are somewhat fresh, wrapped in hastily laid bandages and still bruised around the areas. His knuckles are wrapped in cloth, with faint tinges of pink seeping through mingled with the yellow-brown tint of sweat and earth.
This mans entire being constantly appears tense. His jaw is set, hips square and shoulders angled slightly to one side or the other. The muscles in his arms, chest and legs are drawn tight as a bowstring. His stride is deliberate, his footfalls quiet, and his motions are fluid.
Before he slips out of sight, your last impression of this man is simple: He is obviously a man acquainted with much pain and suffering. Depending on your disposition, you might either feel a great sense of sadness for him or you may feel inspired to inquire about his condition.
Then again, you may very well feel nothing whatsoever about him, considering he's just another wretched soul, lost upon the dust of Narfell.
Thick swirls of soot and ember spark dance across an alabaster floor. Hot iron rods protrude from a dark stone furnace. The red glow of flickering firelight dances off the edges of crude instruments of torture pegged to the wall. The air is heavy with suffering.
Shadows rise and fall against the walls of this forsaken lair. Heavy footsteps echo down a dark hall. In the corner of a putrid cell a man is chained to the ceiling. This thin, gangly man is suspended in agony, his feet just barely able to touch the floor below. The skin along the tips of his toes has been worn away from the countless hours of shifting the weight of his body. Jli would have long since slipped into unconsciousness had there not been hungry rats circling from the shadows, plotting to devour the exposed, bleeding flesh at the ends of his toes.
A figure, clothed in a majestic blue ensemble, materializes through a darkened doorway and into the small, foul cell where Jli is caged. A snap of a finger, and two large, ogreish men race forward and unshackle the prisoner. They carry his haggard frame over near the stone furnace and place him on a stone table. His wrists and ankles are quickly bound by heavy leather straps.
The man clad in blue leans down near the prisoners ear and speaks ever so gently to him, as if in mockery to his pained condition. "Tonight, I am not even going to question you. You have shown that you are able to endure immeasurable pain, but it will soon be all for not. You will succumb to our devices eventually, and then you will beg me to listen to all you can tell me. But for now, what we are going to do to you is but a taste of things to come."
With a flick of his wrist, the nefarious man brings to bear a crooked edged dagger against the immobile prisoners left ear. Almost effortlessly the blade runs through his flesh. The man screams. The sound of his torture reverberates off of the stone walls, mingling with the insidious laughter of his tormentor.
The villainous tormentor briefly holds the severed ear up to the light showing it to his abused captive. He releases his grip upon the mans mangled flesh, and the ear falls to the stone floor with a wet splat.
One of the large henchmen steps forward. He stands with his large hand gloved and clutching a long iron rod. The end of the shaft is glowing brilliant hot-white. The shaft is a kaleidescope of brilliant molten orange, red and white. With a quick nod of his head, the man in blue motions for the henchman to proceed.
Jli's mind races with a pain most unimaginable. His senses are fully aware of every sensation as the searing hot metal rod is plunged into the socket of his left eye. His nostrils immediately fill with the pungent smell of charred flesh. The pain is beyond the limit of any resistance. Jli's body goes limp as his mind spins towards unconsciousness.
Hours pass.
Cold water is flung across the room and stings his sore body, shocking Jli awake. He had been tossed onto the floor of his holding cell and left unshackled and face down in the filth.
Moments pass.
Coming to, his horror realized, Jli traces his dirty fingers over the empty socket which once contained his left eye. His fingers then trace over the left side of his face which is naked, feeling where his ear should have been.
Never before had he felt such an intense hatred well up from within him. He staggered to his feet, turning back towards the open cell door. He does not care now whether he lives or dies. Revenge for this unspeakable act is all he can focus on through the haze in his mind.
Only one henchman is still in the chamber. His back is turned slightly as he soaks up the remaining blood pooled on the stone table.
Jli quickly finds one of the long iron shafts sticking out from the fire. It's heat sears his hand as he grasps the end, but he does not lose his grip. A clank of iron upon stone gives him away as he pulls the rod from the coals. The large servant spins around to seek the source of the sound.
In a flash, Jli drives the end of the hot rod into the mans throat. The intense heat eases the burden of penetration as Jli applies all his strength to the thrust. His strike runs true as the molten rod sears through the mans throat, larynx and voice box. He tries to scream, but only spurting, gurgling sounds escape the steaming hole in his neck. The man collapses to his knees, clutching at the large tear in his throat. His hot pulse splashes through his fingers, streaking red spatters along the floor and plastering the wall. His body slumps, collapsing upon the floor with a thud into a gathering pool of crimson.
Jli bends down and pats the mans breaches. His hands find an iron key ring with three keys. Turning, he springs to the doorway across the room and bounds up the stairs, down several corridors and through two more doors before he is out of his captivity and into the open night.
Vowing revenge, he steals away into the shadows to lick his wounds and plot his return. These deeds shall not go unanswered!
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Character: Jli Auhn'ju
Login: lordsterling [but I bet you figured that one out already
]
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Reviewed, XP pending
