Wonderful 15.

Belinswae. Near The Nomads Plains...

Tamric Drubine stops and looks down at the road, he can definitely see the tracks of horses that have gone off the road recently. The nobleborn youngster from the kingdom of Sarcrin in the Southlands who spoke to a goat herder earlier this morning, who told him about what he's been looking for, heads off the road and makes his way along a dusty trail.
Tam who has ridden the three horses he took from the bandits yesterday, so hard that they've blown out, so that he has had let each one go after riding them. Only has his own horse left, so he's moving at a more steady pace and not riding as fast, as to not ruin another mount.
The adolescent from south of the equator heads up a rise, once he's upon it, he sees out to the east what he's been approaching all morning, the plains of the nomads, which are only about five miles away. Tam looks down the trail, and he spots a village a few miles away, even from here, he can tell that it's an inbetween village, only one of them would be so close to the nomads plains.
The former heir to castle Drubine in the kingdom of Sarcrin heads down the trail, making his way towards the village, the nobleborn youngster still not thirteen years old watches the surrounding countryside carefully. Keeping an eye out for bandits, though he knows being this close to the nomads plains, you'll more likely to see nomads than bandits of townsmen origin.
The surrounding countryside is pretty much the same as all of the landscape east and south of the city of Falnic, dry and arid. While here close to the plains of the nomads there's less trees, and those that are on the hills and rises like the one Tam is riding down, are short and windswept looking specimens.
The former heir to the knight of castle Drubine, who was informed last year while in the lands Farque, that his father and those of castle Drubine who were killed when he was younger, had been avenged by those who continued to fight their enemies in the north of the kingdom of Sarcrin.
Spots an oasis next to the small village he's riding towards, and as he approaches the village, he sees the person he's been looking for, the nobleborn youngster dismounts and walks the last thirty yards to the oasis surrounded by date palms, the first trees he's seen in a while that aren't short and scrubby.
Tam glances out of the corner of his left eye as he leads his horse, and he sees a handful of the local villagers nearby staring at him. He's used to the stares now, as it's quite a rare sight to see someone here in Belinswae with blond hair and blue eyes like he has.
The former heir to castle Drubine finds Lisell Maera sitting on the ground with her back against a date palm, the long legged teen from the city-state of Brattonbury in the Southlands has her eyes closed, and Tam winces as he sees that her face is puffy and bruised.
Letting go of the reins of his horse, Tamric Drubine quietly says "Lis" she opens her eyes and looks up at him, he faintly smiles then kneels down beside her, he puts a hand on her shoulder, and notices how she slightly flinches, the nobleborn youngster asks her "Are you alright?".
"I will be" replies Lisell Maera, who is then hugged by the son of the former knight of castle Drubine in the kingdom of Sarcrin, the orphan teenager from the city-state of Brattonbury hugs him back, shutting her eyes tightly as she does so.
After Tam lets her go, and sits back on his heels, and he looks around, he quietly says in the elven language "Sorry it took so long to find you" Lisell Maera faintly smiles through her cracked lips then she says in the same language "I knew you would eventually" Tamric Drubine nods, then looks back at the village, and asks her as they continue converse in the elven language "Those bandits who took you?". "Dead" replies Lis who points away to their right.
The nobleborn youngster stands up and looks that way out to the nomads plains and far in the distance he spots a donkey drawn cart, the teenager from the coastal city of Brattonbury in the Southlands tells him "The villagers are dumping their bodies out on the plains".
Tam sits back down after nodding, then he asks his traveling companion "I take it you took care of them?" Lisell Maera replies with "I did" followed by "Had to wait for the opportune time to do so" the nobleborn adolescent nods then murmurs "Good".
Lis is glad Tam doesn't ask her any more about the trio of bandits and what they did to her, for she doesn't know if she could lie to him so easily. For though the two of them are friendly, they'll never be the best of friends. But with them living and traveling together for the past four years, they're extremely close and they know each other inside and out.
Lisell Maera looks at him and asks "Run into trouble finding me?" the nobleborn youngster who like her is from south of the equator, shrugs his shoulders and says "A little".
The orphan teenager from the city-state of Brattonbury wryly smiles, as she knows Tam tends not to tell all of what has happened. It comes from him being closest to two members of the group they travel with. Dorc da Orc and Mira Reinholt the mage, both of whom tend not say what has actually happened. Though in the case of the ork warleader, he just straight out lies, or says something so unbelievable that you don't know if he's been telling the truth or not.
Lisell Maera whose body aches, says in a slightly dry tone of voice "How little?" Tamric Drubine shrugs his shoulders and says "A couple of groups of bandits on the road here" he pauses for a moment then adds "I dealt to them".
I bet, Lis dryly thinks to herself as she glances at the sword that hangs from the nobleborn youngsters belt. The teenager from Brattonbury knows that Tamric is an extremely skilled swordsman for someone who is not yet thirteen years old. Coupled with the sword he uses, which is magical, he can easily defeat older more experienced swordmen, multiple opponents too, with ease as well.
"How many?" asks Lisell Maera "A couple on the first day you were taken" replies Tamric Drubine, who isn't about to add anything else, but as Lis just stares at him, he clears his throat, and looks at the pool of water beside them, and he says "And eight of them yesterday" the orphan teenager from Brattonbury slightly winces, and the nobleborn adolescent quickly adds "I let a couple of them go".
The two of them are silent for a few moments, then Tam says "I probably did the local justifier a favour dealing to those bandits" Lisell Maera sourly says "That's if the local justifier isn't in cahoots with the bandits in these parts" the son of the former knight of castle Drubine nods his head agreement, as they've both learnt that corruption is rife here in the region of Belinswae, especially here close to the nomads plains.
After looking out across the oasis to the plains of the nomads, Tamric Drubine says "Sorry i couldn't catch up to you quicker" Lis who knows she has to nip this in the bud quickly, especially if the nobleborn youngster was to find out what actually happened to her, says "That's okay, you found me, that's all that matters" the young woman from south of the equator adds "Thanks Tam" the former heir to castle Drubine in the kingdom of Sarcrin nods, then says "Sure, no worries Lis".
The teenager from Brattonbury asks for and gets a healing potion from Tam, as she admits her captors did beat her, and that she hurts like hell. Lisell Maera breathes a sigh of relief after taking the potion, and though she feels the tiredness one associates with taking a healing potion, she feels a whole lot better than what she did previously.
With a helping hand from the nobleborn youngster, Lis stands up. And once again as she recently noticed, she can't believe how tall Tam has got. Lisell Maera who at five foot ten inches tall, is tall for a young woman just fifteen years old. But Tam who is two and half years younger than herself, is only a little bit shorter than her, in no time, probably within the next year, they'll be eye to eye to one another.
They turn, and after Tam regathers the reins of his horse who is cropping the grass on the edge of the oasis, they head to the village, as Lis tells the nobleborn youngster she has a few of the locals to thank before they gather her gear and leave.
Tamric Drubine stands back as Lisell Maera speaks to the villagers, after she does, the nobleborn youngster gets in the saddle of his horse, and the teenager from Brattonbury gets up behind him on the horse, and they ride out of the village.
As they head back to the road that goes north and west to the city of Falnic on the coast, Lisell Maera quietly says in the elven language "You might not of done the local justifier a favour getting rid of the bandits on the road, but you definitely did those villagers and the local herders a favour" she continues with "They've been pestered by the town born bandits for ages, with no one doing anything to help them".
"Townsmen" mutters Tamric Drubine who has definite opinions about the way society is shaped here in the north and central parts of Belinswae, Lisell Maera who shares those opinions, even more so after what's happened to her, nods her head in agreement with what the nobleborn youngster just muttered.
A little while later and they're on the road that heads back to Falnic, they ride not saying much, and by the time it's nearing midday in the heat of a hot day, Tam is thinking of stopping for a meal as the villagers gave Lis some food when they were leaving. When he realises the teenager from Brattonbury might be asleep, as she's leaning against his back, with her arms wrapped around him.
The former heir to the knight of castle Drubine is just about to ask Lis if she's awake, when he feels her slightly shaking, instead Tamric Drubine quietly asks "You alright Lis?" after a moment, Lisell Maera softly coughs, then quietly says "I'm fine Tam".
The nobleborn youngster might not know a lot when it comes to the opposite sex, but he knows an awful lot about the teenager from Brattonbury who he has traveled and lived with for nearly four years. And what he knows is that Lis just lied to him.
For all that, Tamric Drubine knows when to remain silent, as he figures if Lis wants to tell him what's wrong, then she will, if not she won't.
As for Lisell Maera, she's extremely grateful the nobleborn youngster doesn't say anything else and has fallen silent again, as lying to him there was bad enough.
So as she leans against his back, she continues to slightly shake as she continues to silently cry . . . . . .

Wonderful 14.

Belinswae. Near The Nomads Plains...

Lisell Maera wakes, she was punched repeatedly in the face and head until she blacked out. The teenager from the city-state of Brattonbury in the Southlands is dazed, and as she looks around to see where she is, she remembers what's happened.
Her heart sinks, and Lis lets out a soft groan, a whimper really as she recalls what her captors did to her. Even the youngest one Halmnar, who was at first reluctant to do it, raped her when his two companions Farnell and Samnill egged him on to do it.
Tears come to the eyes of Lisell Maera, who can't see her captors at all, but she thinks she hears them outside of the house. Then as she lies there on the dirt floor, Lis realises that she's alive, considering she thought they would of killed her after the three of them had their way with her.
She takes a deep breath, then Lisell Maera murmurs through bloody lips "I've got to move" as she realises that the only reason they've kept her alive, is so that they can continue to rape her at their pleasure, something that no matter what, she knows she can't allow.
The teenage girl who was brought up in some of the poorer areas of the city of Brattonbury sits up with a groan, she hurts all over, especially between her legs, and she does what she's been dreading, she looks down.
Lis lets out a small sound of shock and winces as she looks at the bloody mess between her legs, and she quickly looks away.
Lisell Maera takes a deep breath as she has turned and looked into the shadows on one side of the room, that has light coming in throw a window to her left. And with her cradling her injured left hand that had a dagger go through it, the teenager from the city-state of Brattonbury goes still as she sees what's in the shadows.
Lis sees amongst her captors gear, her own pack as well as her crossbow, the quiver of bolts beside the weapon, she knows Samnill has her sword, and is probably wearing it at the moment as she can't see it.
Lisell Maera looks quickly at the front door of the house that's made out of mud and straw brick, she listens carefully and after a few moments she definitely hears her three captors through the door that's slightly open.
The young woman from south of the equator waits a moment or two, then she moves, heading to the equipment in the shadows to her right, Lis hisses through clenched teeth as she crawls, as each move she makes is agonizing. Agonizing or not, it doesn't stop her from where she wants to go, and what she wants to do.
"Should we keep this one alive?" asks Samnill who is chewing on a mouthful of cut, a leaf from a plant from further south in Belinswae along the coast, a leaf that's both a mild stimulant and an antiseptic.
"She's more trouble than she's worth" adds Samnill who like Farnell and young Halmnar got a few bruising injuries from their captive, not just from when they took her by surprise when they captured her. But also as they traveled with her down the southeast road out Falnic, as well as when they raped her a little while ago.
"Maybe" says Farnell who is the leader of the trio of bandits, who then goes on with "She's a beauty" Samnill interrupts him and dryly says "Not anymore she is" which causes Farnell and Halmnar to chuckle as it's true, as they've beaten their captive black and blue.
"Well she's a beauty once she's cleaned up and healed" says the leader of the trio of bandits, who continues with "Tall too, for one who's only fourteen or fifteen years old" Farnell then adds "With that accent she's obviously from foreign lands".
At first when they took their captive, they thought she was a townsmen like they are, taking one, even from a village, is something that Farnell and Samnill have only ever done twice before. Then they thought she was of mixed blood, but they tend to be shorter than townsmen in general, for nomads on average are shorter people.
It wasn't until she spoke that they realized she was from beyond the region of Belinswae, from where, they don't care, just as long as they get to have their way with her, is all that they care about.
Rubbing his chin where he got a stray elbow from their captive, Farnell as he looks around at the inbetween village, quietly says "Though with the way she kept fighting, she might be more trouble than she's worth, so killing her might be the thing to do".
"I agree" says Samnill with a nod of his head, who then adds "Well whatever you decide, I'm going to have some more fun" he spits out the wad of cut in his mouth, then he asks young Halmnar "Coming Hal".
With the youngster answering in the negative, Samnill shrugs his shoulders, then says "Suit yourself" he heads back to the front door of the house they've been using, he stops when Farnell calls his name, he looks back at the leader of the three of them, who makes a slashing motion across his throat, then quietly says "Get rid of her".
Samnill nods his head, and with a grin upon his face, he continues on his way to the front door of the house made of mud and straw bricks, which he then enters.
"Will we dump her out on the plains of the scum?" quietly asks Halmnar who has heard that Farnell and Samnill usually dump their victims out on the plains of the nomads "Probably best" replies the leader of the trio of bandits, who continues with "It can be a bit of a fraught experience doing so, but the local justifiers even check up on inbetween villages like this one" he then adds "Though the villagers are keeping their distance at the moment, they know what we're doing, and one of them might talk when a justifier shows up" Farnell then says "Best to get rid of the evidence".
They hear a groan from inside the house, and Farnell then young Halmnar chuckle, with Farnell dryly saying "I see somebody's at it already" the leader of the trio of bandits shakes his head, and says "Hell, he's done her twice already, don't know how he can do it again so quickly" Farnell then turns around to look at the house, and sees something he would never thought he would see.
"You okay" says Halmnar, as he's bumped into by Farnell, he turns sideways and sees the leader of the trio of bandits falling to the ground, clutching at his throat with blood spraying through his fingers.
The youngest of the three bandits spins right around and is confronted by a sight that takes him by surprise, it's there captive, standing there with no britches, bloody thighs, bruised and battered with a bloody left hand, however the right hand holding her sword is firm and steady.
"Now wait" says Halmnar who backs up a couple of steps as he holds his hands out in a warding manner, for his troubles he gets a sword thrust to the guts, and he falls to the ground screaming in pain.
Lisell Maera limps forward and kicks the third bandit, the youngest one, in the face, then with the flat of her sword she smacks him in the right boot, breaking his right foot. Then she looks over at the leader of the trio of bandits, who she sees is still alive, she walks back over to him.
Groaning in pain through a bloody mouth of broken teeth, Halmnar as he lies there in excruciating pain with his guts spilling out of him, and with a broken foot, looks to his right, and sees the teenage girl they've raped, standing over Farnell.
He watches as she yanks down the front of Farnell's tights, then grab his cock and balls with her bloody left hand, and with the sword in her right, she cuts off Farnell's manhood.
Young Halmnar groans as she throws Farnell's manhood at the bandit leaders face, then she glances at him, before limping away, back to the small house.
Halmnar closes his eyes and rolls onto his side as he groans in pain, the youngest of the trio of bandits tries to move, and hisses in pain through clenched teeth, and opens his eyes, and finds himself facing the house that they've been using.
Halmnar sees through the wide open front door of the house, Samnill on the dirt floor with a crossbow bolt in the chest, through the right lung by the looks of it, trying to claw himself along the floor as he's on his back.
Then walking through the shaft of light that's coming in through the window of the small house, is their captive, who is now free and armed.
She yanks down Samnill's tights like she did to Farnell, and like she did to Farnell, she cuts off Samnill's manhood too. Though this time she takes Samnill's bloody cock and balls and stuffs into his mouth, before she slams the flat of her blade across his full mouth, smashing his mouth apart, and shoving Samnill's manhood further down his throat.
Then she turns and looks out the open front door of the house, and Halmnar sees her looking at him, after a few moments, she makes her way outside and heads towards him, as she does, Halmnar murmurs through his bloody mouth "Please don't".
Lis looks down at the youngest of the trio of bandits, and thinks to herself, that his briches should fit, afterall all she can't go around without wearing any pants as she is now. Then as she reaches down to yank his britches down, she hears him repeatedly mumbling through his bloody lips "Please don't".
"Too late for that now, you fucking rapist cunt" says Lisell Maera, who then pulls his britches down, and like she did to the other two bandits, she cuts his manhood off, she throws it at his face as he screams through his bloody mouth.
The third rapist dies by the time the orphan teenager from the city-state of Brattonbury in the Southlands takes off his britches she wants and she wonders over to the oasis next to the village, there beneath the date palms, Lis cleans herself up, once she has washed from the pool of water, and put on the britches, she leans back against one of the trees and closes her eyes as tears threaten to fall.
A little while later and Lisell Maera opens her eyes, and sees a couple of the village women in their veiled janis robes coming towards her. One is carrying strips of cloth, and a pottle of salve. While the other has a flat tray, on which is flat bread, dates, goat cheese, and what smells like sweet mint tea in the mug.
Lis looks back into the village, and sees a few of the village men, putting the dead bandits onto a cart drawn by a donkey, she figures they'll dump the bodies out onto the nearby plains of the nomads.
The teenage youngster from south of the equator wonders if they've had townsmen do this often in their village, she figures they probably have, and to their own women too, who being half blood, are only one step above being nomads, who they consider to be scum.
Lisell Maera looks at the two robed women who stop a couple of yards from her, and finding her voice as a single tear slides down the right side of her bruised face, Lis quietly says "Thank you" one of the two village women quietly says in reply "No, thank you" before the two of them approach with their offerings and ask what they can do to help her . . . . . .

Wonderful 13.

Five Weeks Later. On Land...

A fist backhands Lisell Maera across the face and she falls from the horse she's on, she hits the ground beside the road. That's if you can call it a road, as it looks exactly the same as the dry dirt like earth that one can see for miles around.
"Damn you Samnill!" says Halmnar from the back of his horse, Samnill just glares at the teenage girl as she lies on the ground breathing heavily on what's a hot morning, as is every morning here on the edge of the nomads plains during the height of summer.
On the ground, the orphan girl from the city-state of Brattonbury in the Southlands tests her bonds, and finds the ropes that bound her wrists behind her back are still tight.
Lisell Maera grimaces as she was hoping they would've loosened when she was knocked from the back of the horse.
"Pick her up, and put her back on your horse" says Farnell after he rides back from where he's been out front. The leader of the three men looks around then says "Don't want to be caught dwadling in these parts, there's talk of wild wyverns having cross the plains of the feral scum" Farnell continues with "Who knows what those damn beasts might do if they see us".
"Which beasts?" asks Halmnar who at about sixteen years old is the youngest of the trio, he continues with "The wyverns or the scum?" the other two men laugh at his joke, then they get ready to get underway again.
Halmnar hops off his horse, and lifts the bound Lisell Maera up, and slings her over the back of his horse this time, as he thinks it'll be easier to ride, than having her sitting infront of him as she was previously.
Samnill watches on with a smirk upon his face, he didn't take too kindly to her bad mouthing him again, so this time he gave her a backhanded punch instead of the usual slap to face and around the head he administers when she gets a bit too verbal in his opinion, which is quite often.
They start riding, and as they do, Samnill rides close to Halmnar's horse, then he leans over and smacks Lisell Maera across the buttocks, then grabs one of her butt cheeks and gives it a firm squeeze, before riding forward and laughing, while Halmnar chuckles at his friends antics.
As the orphan girl from the city-state of Brattonbury lies there like a sack of grain across the back of the horse, she endures her abuse in silence, knowing that if she is to get out of this situation, she'll have to be clever and use everything she has learnt in her life, especially in the last nearly four years since she left Brattonbury, if she's to get out of this predicament.
Or that someone is able to set her free, the now fifteen year old girl knows that she's desperate if she thinks that'll happen. For the others of the group don't know where she is, and the one person that might do, is far behind her, as they were separated upon the road when Lisell was taken captive by the trio of Samnill, Halmnar and Farnell...

... Tamric Drubine drops down beneath the sword that's swung at his head, then he guts the man swinging the sword. Who falls back landing on his rump, screaming as he grabs at his slashed opened stomach. He gets a kick in the face from the nobleborn youngster from the kingdom of Sarcrin in the Southlands, which shatters his nose and front teeth, and puts him on his back.
Tamric Drubine spins around and looks at the rest of the bandits, well those who are still on their feet and are watching him. They've realised they've made a huge mistake attacking the lone traveler on the road, for out of the eight of them who thought they could've easily taken the youngster, five of them are on the ground, either dead or in the case of the last one who has been gutted and had his face kicked in, is dying.
The former heir to castle Drubine in the kingdom of Sarcrin in the Southlands is an absolute terror with the sword, easily able to deal with bandits on the road that heads southeast from the city of Falnic on the coast of the region of Belinswae.
Tamric, or Tam as the rest of the group call him, has been training with the sword since he was a young child. But in the four and half, nearly five years he's been in the company of the others, his skill with the blade has improved dramatically. Especially over the last three years, when he and the others have spent long months in the lands Farque far, faraway to the south, far south of the equator, which he's north of at the moment in the region of Belinswae.
The nobleborn boy who has been trained by numerous sword and blademasters, not just the swordmaster Reinholt who has been his main instructor of the sword since he met the group.
Is fairly certain that either Mira Reinholt or lord Farque himself will bestow the rank of swordmaster upon him in the next year or two, extremely young since he's still short of his thirteenth nameday.
Tam flips his longsword and catches it again in his right hand, and flings the dagger in his left hand he's taken from his belt, which takes one of the remaining bandits low in the groin. That bandit falls to the ground, landing on his side, screaming and shouting in pain as he starts to writhe around.
"Who's next?" asks Tamric Drubine as he looks at the two remaining men who are on their feet, the two bandits back away when the nobleborn youngster starts advancing on them, then they turn and run towards the hills to the side of the road, too scared to even gather their mounts.
Tam who knows he would of been dead if any of them had bows or crossbows, mutters "Fucking townsmen" then he dispatches the two wounded bandits with a sword slash to their throats. Then he pilfers anything of use that he can find on the dead, the only thing of real value he finds is a coin pouch with a dozen gold pieces which will always come in handy.
Tamric Drubine gathers his own mount, and three of the horses belonging to the bandits. He doesn't bother with the dead, he just leaves them where they lie, not caring if they've found. Besides he's pretty sure he's done the local justifier a favour, who in his opinion don't do enough to keep things safe outside of the cities and towns of central and northern Belinswae.
The nobleborn youngster from Sarcrin in the Southlands continues on his way, still heading southeast along the road out of Falnic, still in search of his traveling companion Lisell Maera who was taken captive by another group of bandits in a village they stopped at yesterday morning during their continuing search for those of the group who are missing...

... Lisell Maera wakes the following morning, her muscles are protesting as she stretches from her position across the rump of the horse she's on. She lifts her head, as she listens to her captors, and in the distance she spots a village. The teenage girl slightly winces as she looks further east and gets her first good look at the plains of the nomads, or what's commonly referred to as the nomads plains.
If Lis, as she's often referred to by those in the group she travels with. Thought that the surrounding countryside was pretty barren and arid, looking east at the plains it's even more drier than it is here.
The orphan teenager from the city-state of Brattonbury in the southern hemisphere, hopes her captors aren't planning to take her east into the nomads plains. She thinks not as they're townsmen who despise the nomads, but she wouldn't put it past them if her speculation about their intentions turn out to be true.
As they near the small dusty village, Lisell Maera can easily see that it's inhabitants are neither townsmen or nomads, they're those who are of mixed blood, who townsmen despise, though they do interact with and do business with them. Unlike nomads, who they kill on the spot, and vice versa, for a nomad will kill a townsmen when they see them.
They stop at the edge of the village, a woman in her long traditional veiled janis robe, grabs a child by the hand and hurries away when the horses stop next to an empty house.
A few other inhabitants of what's known as an inbetween village who are out this morning, quickly move away when they catch sight of the three riders and their captive.
Farnell dismounts and nods to Halmnar and Samnill, who also dismount, Samnill mutters "Fuck" and winces as he dismounts, then walks with a slight limp for he was kicked in the knee by Lis last night when they stopped to camp.
Young Halmnar hauls Lisell Maera off the back of his horse, she hits the ground with a thud, she slightly groans around the cloth gag stuffed in her mouth. She isn't going anywhere as her ankles are now bound, as her wrists are. Still, Halmnar puts a boot on her, and stands on her as Samnill and Farnell hitch the three mounts to a post in what can be called a stable, it has three crumbling walls and a smattering of planks for a roof, that offers shade for the horses on what's turning out to be another a hot summer's day here near the nomads plains.
Lis is carried inside the house made of a mix of mud and straw bricks, she's dumped on the dirt floor, and gets a kick in her side when she kicks out with her bound legs, and connects with Halmnar's shins, who stumbles and falls as he swears "She bitch".
A rain of punches fall down upon the orphan teenager, hitting her in the stomach and chest, and sides, she can tell that Samnill is punching her the hardest by far, he's laughing as he hits her.
"Enough" says Farnell as he calls a stop to their abuse for the moment, as Lis lies there dazed after Samnill hits her in the face with one of his punches. The orphan teenager from Brattonbury in the Southlands is breathing heavily as she hears her captors laughing as they tell a joke and they share a flask of grain alcohol, that's popular amongst the poorer sections of townsmen society.
Lis who knows she has to try and get out of this, bides her time and works out what she'll have to do, even though her body is aching, battered and bruised.
"Hold her down, I'm going first" says Farnell who continues with "I'm not going after where you two bastards have been first" which illicits a laugh from both Samnill and Halmnar, though the laugh from Halmnar sounds forced and nervous to Lisell's ears, while Samnill's sounds mocking.
Once the bonds on her wrists, then ankles are cut, and Farnell goes to pull down Lisell's briches, she fights, kicking out at him, and elbowing both Samnill and Halmnar who are kneeling down to either side of her.
"Hold the bitch down!" yells Farnell who is on his rump, nursing an ankle that hurts like hell, Halmnar who toppled over when he was elbowed in the side, kicks out and connects with Lisell's side, which causes her to groan as she goes to kick out again.
Samnill who has also fallen on to his side, goes to grab something from his belt, as he mutters "You bitch" as he tries to grab their captor who is fighting a hell of lot more than any other of those he and Farnell have captured in the past.
Lis kicks the downed Farnell again, this time in the left knee, then she screams in pain through the gag stuffed in her mouth, and looks to her left, and finds her upturned hand pinned to the dirt floor of the house by a dagger.
"Bet that hurt didn't it bitch" says Samnill, who then punches Lis in the face, right in the mouth and nose that stuns her even more "Hold her" says Samnill to Halmnar, which is reiterated by Farnell who takes his own dagger from his belt.
Not bothering to pull their captives briches down, Farnell just cuts them open as he winces in pain from both a sore knee, and a sore ankle.
"Bitch if you keep putting up a fight, Sam here will keep stabbing you until you pass out" says Farnell, who continues with "And if you die, who cares as you'll still be warm enough to enjoy" which causes Samnill to chuckle in merriment, while Halmnar nervously grins as the two of them hold down their captive.
Not like this! Lisell Maera screams within her own mind, she thinks this repeatedly over and over again. For the orphan teenager from the city-state of Brattonbury in the Southlands, who was repeatedly sexually abused when she was a child, thought she had put things like this well behind in her life.
Not so, as she's raped by her three captors . . . . . .

Wonderful 12.

On Land...

Mira Reinholt the mage wakes to a shake to his shoulder and one of the hired mercenaries saying "Wake up mage". The Vexilian mage in exile opens his eyes and looks around, he finds he's on a bed in a room, most likely in the same town they're were in yesterday when he blacked out.
The once powerful mage sits up, and when the local mercenary pops his head in through the door after briefly going outside, and says "Come on, we haven't got all day" Mira Reinholt the mage says "Alright, I'm up" then he sourly smiles as it comes out as a mumble, and realises that he was given some of the potion as he slept.
It takes a little while, but eventually the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster is ready to travel for the day. Then after a quick breakfast, the prisoner, his two guards and his captor are ready to leave the inn they've spent the night at.
They head down to the river, and as always as he walks, the mage Reinholt stumbles every so often, it's the most annoying side effect of the toxins in his body in his opinion. And it's also why one of the hired mercenaries is always close to him, to help him walk when he needs it.
The attractive elven maid Kaldeàlil Haldéilv has booked passage upon a river craft that's going north up river. They board and are soon heading against the current of the river that empties out in the ocean about a dozen miles away from the town.
The once powerful mage knows that the elven magic user is either from this region of Belinswae, or at least somewhere near it. As he overheard in the dinning room of the inn where they stayed and had breakfast earlier this morning. From some river merchants at a nearby table, that elven traders sometimes travel down here from their homeland to the northeast.
The swordmaster Reinholt tries to recall maps he's seen showing this area north of equator on the continent, and if there's an elven principality near the region of Belinswae.
The Vexilian mage doesn't recall one, then again he doesn't know that much of what's here, just the name of a couple of cities north of the plains of Sarvil, which is the very north of the Southlands along the west coast.
The plains the mage Reinholt has learnt where lord Farque died nearly four and half centuries ago when he defeated the emperor of the Holy Norstran Empire, who had crossed the Great Western Ocean and invaded the Southlands.
Mira Reinholt knows they're well north of those particular cities north of the plains of Sarvil, and from the amount of time they spent at sea and  traveling by other means with Kaldeàlil Haldéilv, he guesses they're well over a thousand miles north of the equator, possibly closer to half that again, as they're no longer in the northern tropics, but in a more arid, though still warm climate.
Wherever they are in Belinswae, it reminds the mage Reinholt of the terrain and climate you find in the city-state of Renoa along the coast in the north of the Southlands. Though as he sits in the bow at the rail, the Vexilian mage in exile looks to the east of the river, and sees that the landscape is much dryer than most places you'll find in Renoa the northern most city-state in the Southlands.
The once powerful mage sits back against a travel chest as he's beneath a shade cloth that's been put up by the crew. The swordmaster Reinholt welcomes the shade, as there's hardly any breeze coming off the water, or from the west where the ocean is. It's quite hot today, afterall it is summer here north of the equator in Belinswae.
Not having access to his magical power isn't new to Mira Reinholt, it's happened to him before. A number of years ago when he left the world of Volunell when he accidentally cast a rift/void instead of a regular rift spell, which he's still yet to learn and cast.
Though the Vexilian mage in exile can't actually recall much of his time off world. He knows it was there, where ever there was at the other end of the rift void, that he lost the vast majority of his powers.
The once powerful mage knows he survived that, so he's not too worried about being under the influence of the toxin laced potion he's been forced to have, a potion that cuts him off from what little magical power that remains at his disposal.
The mage Reinholt knows that he'll eventually get free of his current captivity, either by freeing himself, or someone else freeing him. It's just that he doesn't know how long he will be a captive of Kaldeàlil Haldéilv, the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster knows that it could be for quite some time.
The Vexilian mage in exile looks over at the elven magic user, who is also under the cloth that's providing shade here in the bow of the river craft, that's heading upstream under the power of both sail and oar.
Mira Reinholt knows that the attractive elven maid who at the moment is reading from a scroll, is using him as bait to lure someone to her. The swordmaster Reinholt slightly shakes his head as he knows that for all the cunning the attractive elven maid possesses, she's no match for the person she's after, the person who killed her lover Xanderlith Karlavilt, in the principality of Alínlae in the Southlands three years ago.
Mirs Reinholt looks away to the east of the river again, and before long he's dozing in the morning heat beneath the cloth that's providing shade to those in the bow. He's soon fully asleep as the river craft continues northwards through the region of Belinswae.
Around midday the once powerful mage is woken up by one of the hired mercenaries, the cook in the galley of the shallow drafting craft has provided them with lunch. The swordmaster Reinholt has a meal of cured meats with figs and cheese, which he rather enjoys. He also likes the cold mint tea with sugar he's given to drink, there's ice in it courtesy of Kaldeàlil Haldéilv, it quenches his thirst on this warm summer's day.
Not long after having the midday meal, the mage Reinholt starts dozing again, as he sits upon a soft mat on the wooden deck, while he leans back against the travel chest behind him, he's soon asleep once more.
The exiled Vexilian mage is woken by shouting, he yawns and looks around, then he gets up and moves forward, stumbling just the once, as he gets out from beneath the cloth that's been strung up over most of the fore deck, and he stands in the bow point of the river craft.
"What is it?" asks Mira Reinholt the mage, who to his relief finds that he's not mumbling, and his voice comes out normally, though softly and a little gruff.
"There" says one of the hired mercenaries, who along with the other mercenary, as well as Kaldeàlil Haldéilv, and a couple of the crew, are here in the bow end of the river boat. The swordmaster Reinholt who is glad that a couple of meals and a bit of time have lessened the side effects of the potion that he's under the influence of, looks away into the sky to the east to where the mercenary who spoke to him, is pointing.
With a slight frown upon his face, Mira Reinholt says "Wyverns?" the hired mercenary beside him nods yes, then the once powerful mage murmurs "That's quite a few of them" the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster looks at the elven magic user, who as the only non human onboard, has the best eyesight by far, and he asks her "How many of them up there?".
With a sideways glance at her prisoner the mage Reinholt, Kaldeàlil Haldéilv answers his question with "Nine of them" the attractive elven maid nods her head and says "They are" in response to him asking her "Wild one's?".
The elven magic user who knows the region of Belinswae and the surrounding regions quite well, says "You can get them in even larger flights, up to thirty of them" she continues with "Though you don't usually see them this far west" Kaldeàlil Haldéilv then adds "They've come across the nomads plains to get here".
Mira Reinholt notices something at the mention of the nomads plains, the two crew members here in the bow with them, frown, in a disapproving way, at the mention of that. While the two guards have no reaction to it what so ever.
The once powerful mage wonders if it has something to do with the hired mercenaries being from the coast in the southern part of Belinswae, while he's learnt that the crew, as well as the river craft itself are from a city further north along the coast.
"We're not in any danger are we?" asks the swordmaster Reinholt, who as the more he speaks, he speaks in a normal manner, not so softly as he tends to do as he regains his voice after a certain period of time since he's last had the potion.
"They won't attack" says the attractive elven maid, who then adds "Larger groups might attack people, but smaller flights like this one will usually avoid people" Kaldeàlil Haldéilv pauses for a moment, then she says "Though i wouldn't be surprised if the younger and inexperienced one's mock dive attack us".
Which turns out to be correct a little later, as the river turns slightly eastwards and a pair of the smaller wyverns come and inspect the river craft making it's way northwards. The two fifteen foot long beasts dive down towards the boat a couple of times, pulling up just forty feet above it each time before circling away. They only head off when a larger specimen of the winged creatures approaches from the east and squawks at them loudly in reproach.
Mira Reinholt watches the winged creatures flying away to the east and north as they search for something to hunt. The once powerful mage can't help but wonder if there's those of the group he's a part of, out there somewhere in the world, searching for him, like the wild wyverns are searching for their prey, he hopes they are . . . . . .

Wonderful 11.

Two Weeks Ago. The Great Western Ocean...

The deacon Polisa puts his right hand on the hilt of the large sword sticking up out of the floodboards of the damaged cabin. Mira Reinholt the mage watches as first nothing happens as the member of the church of Galavin tries to pull lord Farque's sword free. Then the once powerful mage as he sits upon the bunk sees the exact moment when something does happen.
Deacon Polisa opens his mouth in surprise and he goes to scream in pain as a look of horror crosses his face. He does scream but it's a silent scream as nothing comes out as all of a sudden he starts to change colour.
The churchman changes hue, turning pale, which quickly turns to shades of blue, progressively turning lighter blue until he's finally a white blue colour.
Cracks suddenly appear where his skin shows, he tries to move, but he's unable to let go of the hilt of the sword he's holding, then he goes completely still as he's frozen solid.
From where he sits on the bunk, the mage Reinholt can feel the cold in the close confines of the cabin in the tropical night emanating from the deacon Polisa.
There's ice like tendrils of steam coming from the frozen figure of the churchman, who then all of sudden shatters into untold many tiny pieces and scatters across the floor of the cabin.
Better you than me, Mira Reinholt the mage thinks to himself as he looks at the remains of the dead traveling deacon, the exiled Vexilian mage then lies on his side on the bunk, glances at lord Farque's sword, then promptly falls to sleep.
The mage Reinholt wakes early in the morning to find one of the crew in the cabin looking at the small ice like pieces on the floodboards, wondering what they are. The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster watches as the crewman shrugs, then makes his way to the wood boards that are stacked in one corner of the damaged cabin.
The sailor stops next to the large  sword sticking up out of the floodboards, he glances at the open door, then at the Vexilian mage in exile on the bunk, who just lies there watching him, then the crewman takes a hold of the sword's hilt to pull it out of the floor.
The mage Reinholt watches as the sailor dies in the same manner as the deacon Polisa did during the night, the once powerful mage as he lies there just shakes his head as the sailor shatters apart into many pieces and scatters across the floor.
The exiled Vexilian mage watches two more of the crew die in the same way. First the assistant to the ships carpenter, who comes in and sees all the ice like pieces on the floor, and after wondering what they are for a little while, he goes off in search of a broom.
He returns a short time later, and after sweeping multitude of the tiny ice like pieces to one side of the cabin, he too goes to pull the large sword up out of the floodboards, and ends up dead just like those who he just swept to one side of the cabin.
Mira Reinholt is sitting up on the bunk when the next crew member is killed by lord Farque's sword. The once powerful mage who is waiting for his breakfast, as he's usually feed about now. Hears a pair of sailors out in the corridor, they enter the cabin, one is the ships carpenter, and the other is a member of the crew carrying a trencher with the mage Reinholt's breakfast on it.
And as that sailor walks over to the bunk where the once powerful mage sits, stopping at the large sword that's sticking up out of the floodboards, and the ships carpenter mentions the tiny ice like pieces scattered across the floor, the crew member with Mira's breakfast grabs the hilt of lord Farque's sword.
As the ships carpenter runs from the cabin screaming and shouting about what he's just seen, the Vexilian swordmaster sourly smiles as he looks at his breakfast that's spilled across the floor. Having something to eat is about the only thing that helps deal with the toxins in his body from the potion that he's been forced to drink. That and time are the only things that gives him any relief from it.
Of course his meals are strictly controlled, and he's forced to have more of the potion after a certain about of time, usually every two and half to three days.
This is what the once powerful mage is thinking about when a number of others make their way into the damaged cabin that is effectively his cell due to the effects of the potion he's been forced to have.
"So what exactly happened?" asks Kaldeàlil Haldéilv the elven magic user to the frightened ships carpenter, who won't even enter the cabin, and is standing out in the corridor looking in.
The attractive elven maid and the abbott Halarn share a look as the scared crewman tells them what he saw happened. The captain already worried when he heard the ships carpenter screaming and shouting, had one of his officers do a count of the cutter's crew and passengers. He's informed by the officer assigned to this task, that one of the bowmen and the deacon Polisa are both missing.
The two spellcasters look at the tiny ice like pieces on the cabin floor, and after the head of the church of Galavin winces, and Kaldeàlil Haldéilv orders everyone apart from her fellow spellcaster, the captain and the prisoner out. She and the abbott in the church of Galavin look at the mage Reinholt who is their prisoner.
"The carpenter told the truth" says Kaldeàlil Haldéilv as she looks at the Vexilian mage in exile, she gestures at the large sword sticking up out of the floodboards and asks the swordmaster from the city-state of Vexil in the Southlands "Is that magical?" as both she and the head of the church of Galavin can't detect anything magical about the weapon.
"No" replies Mira Reinholt the mage, who is a little annoyed he's able to speak clearly, the once powerful mage who doesn't bother to lie as he figures the elven magic user is casting a spell to determine if he's lying or not, continues with "It isn't magical" which is indeed true, though he must admit to himself that the large sword is highly unique to say the least.
"He's telling the truth" quietly says Kaldeàlil Haldéilv to the most powerful spellcaster in the church of Galavin, who nods his head in agreement as he too was casting a spell to see if the prisoner was lying or not.
"Care to explain that mage" says abbott Halarn who nods at the large sword, then at the tiny ice like pieces scattered across the floor of the cabin as he looks at the mage Reinholt.
"What's to explain?" says the Vexilian mage in exile who continues with "You know exactly the same as me if you were to touch it" the once powerful mage is telling the truth, though he won't elaborate and will only answer questions directly as he sees fit.
The swordmaster Reinholt watches the two spellcasters who share a look, and he figures they're talking to one another via mindspeech. While the captain of the twin masted sailing ship from the port of Renoa stands to one side, feeling a little left out, though glad to be as he isn't too keen to get caught up in the affairs of the practitioners of magic.
The attractive elven maid slightly nods her head at a suggestion from abbott Halarn as they speak by way of a mindspeech spell, then Kaldeàlil Haldéilv looks at the prisoner and tells him "Pull the sword out of the floor".
"Fuck off" says Mira Reinholt who winces as he said the first that came to his mind, which he didn't want to do "What?" says the elven magic user who grins then adds "Feeling a little scared of something mage?" then she casts a spell upon the prisoner.
The mage Reinholt grimaces as he finds himself standing up from the bunk he's sitting on, and he takes a step forward, all out of his control.
Please sword, the once powerful mage thinks to himself as he walks under the power of the spell cast by Kaldeàlil Haldéilv towards the large sword sticking up out of the floorboards of the cabin.
The Vexilian mage in exile silently repeats that over and over as he approaches the large weapon. Please sword. It becomes a silent litany, as he hopes that lord Farque's sword is listening, but having no idea if it is or not.
The once powerful mage sourly smiles as he just walked for the first time without stumbling since becoming a prisoner. Then he grimaces as he stops infront of the large sword, which even though some of it is down through the floorboards, is as tall as he is, and he's basically six feet tall.
Mira Reinholt watches as his right arm lifts up as the elven magic user controls his movements, the exiled Vexilian mage is breathing in short, shallow breaths as he panics but is unable to do anything about it. Then he closes his eyes and silently repeats, please sword, as his hand reaches out to take a hold of the hilt of the large sword.
"Fuck" mutters the mage Reinholt as he feels his hand wrap around the hilt of the weapon, then the swordmaster from the city-state of Vexil opens his eyes a few moments later as he finds, much to his surprise, that  he's still alive.
Thank you sword, Mira Reinholt thinks to himself as he breathes deeply in relief, then he looks at Kaldeàlil Haldéilv, who tells him "Pull it out then" the once powerful mage grabs the hilt with his other hand and tries to pull the large weapon out of the floorboards.
It won't move, and after sometime, the swordmaster Reinholt says "It's bloody heavy, if you want to move it do it yourself" in reply to the elven magic user saying to him "Don't mess about mage" as he struggles to even budge the large sword.
The attractive elven maid gestures to the bunk, and the mage Reinholt heads back to it after he's unable to move lord Farque's sword at all. Once he sits down he finds that he is back in control of his body. Though a moment later he finds he's no longer in control of his own mind.
Mira Reinholt finds himself shoved to one side of his mind, in a tiny corner as if he's a passenger in his own body, as he starts talking without him having in any say in what's coming out of his mouth.
"If you want to move it so much" says the mage Reinholt who then nods at the head of church of Galavin, and continues with "You do it" the once powerful mage then adds "Since you can protect yourself from arcane weapons which belong to, you know, the walking dead".
The two spellcasters share a look and start conversing with one another by way of a mindspeech spell. While in a tiny corner of his mind, Mira Reinholt wonders what the hell just happened.
The exiled Vexilian mage tries to glance at lord Farque's sword, but he's unable to and it remains in the periphery of his vision as he finds he can only look straight at his two captors.
"I don't know, but it'll have to be pretty powerful whatever it is" says Mira Reinholt in response to a question from the head of the church of Galavin, the spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found in the Southlands, then dryly adds "I'm not exactly an expert on spells cast by clerics".
In the corner of his mind that he finds himself in, the swordmaster from the city-state of Vexil is slightly surprised at how he actually sounds. This is first time he's heard himself speak as if he was someone else, and it sounds a little odd to say the least.
The elven magic user and the abbott in the church of Galavin silently confer, for the prisoner is telling the truth, they've also read his mind to be doubly sure, then the most powerful cleric in the church of Galavin nods and quietly says "He's right" followed by "Don't know how long for, but at least i can move it, and get it out of our way".
Abbott Halarn casts his most powerful protection spell, specifically against the arcane items of the undead, he knows it's successful as he wouldn't of been able to cast the spell, as he gets his powers indirectly from the god he worships, Galavin. The head of the church of Galavin moves over to the large sword sticking up out of the floorboards of the cabin floor and though he hesitates for a brief moment, he grabs the hilt of the weapon.
Fucking sucker, Mira Reinholt thinks to himself as he suddenly finds himself in control of his own mind again while he watches the abbott Halarn change colour. The once powerful mage grins as the powerful cleric dies, Kaldeàlil Haldéilv spins around as the head of the church of Galavin shatters into tiny ice like pieces.
The mage Reinholt finds himself slammed backwards into the bulkhead behind him, and he blacks out while still grinning as a furious looking elven magic user glares at him.
Meanwhile, over three hundred and fifty miles away to the west and south. At the bottom of the ocean, thousands of feet deep below the surface, in a trench in the ocean floor. Lord Farque opens his eyes as the white energy bands of holding that are around him disappear . . . . . .

Wonderful 10.

On Land...

"Here" says one of the hired mercenaries who puts a plate of food on the table infront of Mira Reinholt the mage who replies with "Thanks" as he's able to talk, and is more coherent as it's been a couple of days since he's last had the potion.
The Vexilian mage in exile who is still unable to touch his magical powers due to the toxins in his body, looks out away to the right from where they're sitting at a small table infront of one of the town's inns.
The once powerful mage as he starts eating, watches the small river craft after a day fishing on the river, making their way back to the docks with the sun setting away to the west over the ocean about a dozen miles away.
The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster briefly glances at his left hand and faintly smiles in a wry fashion as the bolt shooter in his automaton arm is empty.
The mage Reinholt shot all the bolts at those who captured him in the city of Renoa in the very north of the Southlands, killing them all with the exception of the elven magic user Kaldeàlil Haldéilv. The exiled Vexilian mage kind of regrets doing that, well he regrets firing off every bolt once he was unable to cast magic after drinking a mug of ale laced with the potion that has haunted him ever since.
Mira Reinholt softly sighs at the memory, then he doesn't bother to look up as the elven spellcaster walks out of the front door with a plate of food, and takes the last seat at the table infront of the inn where the once powerful mage and the two hired guards are already sitting at.
The swordmaster Reinholt who isn't normally one to chat with his captor, especially when he's finally able to speak properly for any length of time, decides to start a conversation, knowing that it's usually her who starts speaking to him when he's once again has the ability to speak.
"You know, you're going to die" says Mira Reinholt the mage who as usual when he speaks with Kaldeàlil Haldéilv, speaks in the elven language, which the two hired mercenaries are unable to understand.
"He's going to find you and kill you, trust me you can't stop him" says the highly skilled swordmaster "Don't worry, he's far away, he won't be finding us anytime soon" says Kaldeàlil Haldéilv the elven magic user, the once powerful mage slightly snorts then dryly says "Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better" he continues with "What you did back on the ship would've just annoyed him more than he usually is" the mage Reinholt silently adds, trust me, from personal experience you don't want him chasing after you when he's in that kind of mood.
The spellcaster who was the youngest ever member of the mage council of Vexil, a position he held at the age of seventeen, though only briefly as he would turn on his homeland and betray them in a war soon afterwards, says to his captor "You might think you're safe from him, but you still might have to face my fellow prisoner the ork".
"That's hardly likely" dryly says the attractive elven maid who like her prisoner, is rather enjoying the spiced goat dish that has currents and almond flakes in it that they're eating "No way is he getting out of that prison he's in" adds Kaldeàlil Haldéilv who usually initiates the conversation between her and the once powerful mage who she captured in the city-state of Renoa down in the Southlands.
The swordmaster Reinholt, who must admit that the cell or prison, that Dorc da Orc was put in, was pure genius as the large ork would never get in the water, any kind of water to make his escape. Slightly nods in agreement with his captor, but he says "Maybe, but then again maybe not" the Vexilian mage in exile adds "He might just surprise you and effect an escape" he continues with "If he does, watch out, as he'll be hunting you down too".
As the elven magic user ignores that, Mira Reinholt knows that for how deranged and basically mentally retarded Dorc da Orc is, the large ork is still smart for one of his kind. And he's been in plenty of prisons in the past and escaped from them. So he just might figure out a way to escape from his floating prison.
Then there's the fact at what else is on the twin masted sailing ship that's towing the ork warleader's prison. The swordmaster from the city-state of Vexil wouldn't put it past it from finding a way of helping the large ork to escape, afterall lord Farque is who knows how many miles away from the cutter when he came onboard to break free the mage Reinholt.
Slightly changing the conversation, the once powerful mage says to his captor the elven magic user "Even if you escape the undead one, which you won't, as i don't see you've got the head of a church lying around somewhere to even giving you a shit show of a chance of holding him for a little while" Mira Reinholt adds "Or you get away from my big green psychotic companion, who doesn't care if you're a spellcaster or not, who'll kill you when he finds you, then defile your corpse in the most disgusting ways you could ever think of".
After a slight pause the exiled mage from the city-state of Vexil says "Why are you even bothering trying to find him?" after having a spoonful of the spiced goat dish, the swordmaster Reinholt continues with "Even if you do find him, he'll kill you too, you're no match for him" Kaldeàlil Haldéilv looks at him for a few moments, then she quietly tells him "We'll see about that".
Mira Reinholt refrains from sighing, then he says "What does it matter anyway" the spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation in all the Southlands continues with "He's dead, i should know, i saw him die three years ago".
The attractive elven maid glares at him, and the Vexilian mage in exile falls silent, he knows not to push his luck. And bringing up the death of Xanderlith Karlavilt, the lover of Kaldeàlil Haldéilv, usually exacts some sort of painful retribution from the elven magic user.
As he finishes his meal, the swordmaster glances at the attractive elven maid who is staring off towards the nearby river, and the activity at the docks at the end of the day down there.
And as usual, Mira Reinholt as he thinks about his captor, and all that she has done to him, comes to the same conclusion about her as always has as he thinks about her actions, is that she's mad.
Driven mad by grief and anger at the death of her lover Xanderlith Karlavilt three years ago in the elven principality of Alínlae. A death she saw, as did the mage Reinholt, during the final battle over the conflict for the throne of that particular elven principality down in the Southlands.
The once powerful mage knows she's been driven mad, due to the dire odds that she's facing. The elven magic user who has been extremely lucky so far in her pursuit of vengeance against the one who killed her lover. Couldn't care less about what happens to her, just as long as she's able to get revenge for the elven noble from the principality of Alínlae who was her lover.
The swordmaster Reinholt knows she's also been driven mad by the death of the naturally magical creature that was once attached to her, a water pixie who died in the very same battle that her lover Xanderlith Karlavilt died.
The exiled Vexilian knows that though the attractive elven maid hasn't been successful in getting her revenge yet. She has been successful in doing something else, and that's in the fact she has been able to split up the group that Mira Reinholt travels with. And split it up rather effectively too, though she probably didn't intend to do it, as it kind of just happened.
The once powerful mage after finishing his meal, pushes away his empty plate as thinks about the group, which has drastically changed in it's makeup in the more than twelve years he first meet lord Farque and Dorc da Orc at the battle of Vexil.
The mage Reinholt slightly shakes his head as he thought the most recent member of the group would ever be someone to of joined them. He's about to ask one of the hired guards if he can have mug of ale as he thinks of the group, especially the three original members of the group, lord Farque, Dorc da Orc and himself.
When the main side effect of the potion he's been forced to have ever since he's been taken captive takes a hold of him.
"He's blacking out again" is what Mira Reinholt hears one of the hired mercenaries says, who grabs the once powerful mage who slumps back against the front wall of the inn as he has another flashback to when he was being held prisoner onboard the cutter...

Two Weeks Ago. The Great Western Ocean...

Mira Reinholt blinks in surprise as he sees the decking beneath where lord Farque lies prone, lift up. And with him still on it, the undead warlord who is immune to all but the most powerful of clerical magic, get flung back through the rift that has appeared. The rift quickly closes and the water that was rushing into the cabin stops, and the water already in here, starts flowing out through the hole in the hull, and the hole in the cabin floor.
The Vexilian mage in exile concentrates as he tries to understand what his captors are shouting about.
"Keep casting that spell of yours!" shouts Kaldeàlil Haldéilv "I can't even sense it!" yells back the abbott Halarn who is clinging onto the bulkhead so the water rushing out of the cabin doesn't knock him off his feet.
The head of the church of Galavin who is stunned to find himself still alive, draws power from the energy crystal that the attractive elven maid is still holding, the powerful spellcaster, the most powerful one in all of the church of Galavin continues to cast the hold undead spell he has on the being that just attacked them, and he asks "How far away is he?".
"Far away" says Kaldeàlil Haldéilv who cast the otherside of her rift, as far away as she can, to a spot she had viewed via a spell weeks ago, a spot at the bottom of the ocean, faraway to the south and west.
The three of them look at one another, then the head of the church of Galavin nods to the traveling deacon Polisa and tells him "Get the crew in here and have them start fixing the damage" the abbott then glances at the elven magic user and says to her "We need to talk".
Just before the two spellcasters exit the badly damaged cabin, Kaldeàlil Haldéilv checks on the prisoner who sits motionless on the bunk. She takes hold of his face and carefully looks at him as she says "Thought you were going to get away there?" she follows it up with "Not this time".
You just inconvenienced him, you're still going to die you know, Mira Reinholt the mage thinks to himself in his addled mind as the attractive elven maid holds his face and looks at him, she let's him go, and says to the traveling deacon "He's under the potion pretty deep, he won't cause any problems". "Polisa get rid of that sword too, throw it overboard or something" adds abbott Halarn who gestures to the large sword sticking out of the floodboards of the cabin as he and the elven magic user walk from the cabin.
The swordmaster Reinholt briefly hears the two spellcasters talking about the spell the head of the church of Galavin is still casting, then some of the crew enter the cabin to see what's happened this night.
The mage Reinholt sits there on the bunk watching crew come in and out, bringing in supplies of wood, along with tools, as the ships carpenter, along with the captain of the twin masted cutter, one of his officers and the deacon of the church of Galavin discuss things concerning the repair work to be done.
With his back against the bulkhead behind him, Mira Reinholt closes his eyes, and gets some rest as there's activity in the cabin all around him.
The exiled Vexilian mage doesn't know how long he's rested for, but when he opens his eyes, he sees more lamps have been lit and placed in the cabin, and at the moment it's empty apart from the church member and one of the ships officers who are quietly talking about things.
Soon the officer exits the damaged cabin, then the traveling deacon walks over to the bunk to check on the prisoner. After he does, he goes to exit the cabin too, until he remembers something and stops next to the large sword that waa wielded by the undead being.
Out of all of those who have captured him, the traveling deacon Polisa, is the only one who has treated him with any kind of respect or humility, he's also the only one who isn't a spellcaster, so that doesn't really surprise the exiled Vexilian mage.
The once powerful mage watches the member of the church of Galavin, and even if the prisoner could talk at the moment without mumbling incoherently, he doubt he would give warning, even though the traveling deacon has treated him fairly, instead the highly skilled swordmaster just watches.
Well you're fucked, Mira Reinholt the mage thinks to himself as he watches the deacon Polisa go to grab the hilt of the large sword sticking out of the floodboards in the middle of the damaged cabin . . . . . .

Wonderful 9.

On Land...

Mira Reinholt the mage stumbles, as he's prone to do ever since he's been put under the influence of the potion. Well it's a toxin really, the once powerful mage knows it is from his time as an apothecary when he was a younger man.
One of the two hired mercenaries grabs his right arm and straightens the mage Reinholt up as they follow the elven magic user infront of them.
The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster stares at the back of the elven maid who is his captor, wishing that she was dead. But knowing that he's in no shape to make that wish come true, for he can barely walk in a straight line without stumbling.
Mira Reinholt looks around at the small town they're in, it's certainly larger than the coastal villages they've been in previously. Especially the small village in the bay near where he and the attractive elven maid came ashore by way of a rift spell she had cast a few days ago.
Here a little bit further inland, though still on the coastal road. The swordmaster Reinholt gets a better view to the east, where in the distance even further inland, the landscape looks far more arid than it does here in the town.
Where the majority of the grass is straw coloured, while the trees, which there's plenty of nearby. Are fairly short, much shorter than the palm trees on the coast itself to the south, like at the village in the bay near where the elven magic user and the once powerfull mage came through the rift which they left the cutter via.
The spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil in the Southlands knows that they're north of the equator and no longer in the Southlands. He knows they're in the region of Belinswae, his captor and the two guards she hired yesterday in the large village they were in before coming to this town.
Have mentioned it a few times since yesterday. But where in Belinswae, the once powerfull mage has no idea the elven magic user is at pains not to tell him where, and the two hired mercenaries don't even talk to him unless they're ordering him around.
Mira Reinholt who sees a number of people lined up infront of what looks like to be the bakers shop, which is busy here in the hot sun of the middle of the morning.
Wonders if he's missed by the others in the group. He's fairly certain he is, though he knows that with the exception of Dorc da Orc and lord Farque, they have no idea where he is. So the chance of rescue is fairly slim, unless one of the other two find him.
Though he doubts that'll happen. As lord Farque is far out to sea. So is Dorc da Orc in his floating prison. So the once powerful mage assumes. Incorrectly as it turns out. For a lot has happened since he and Dorkindle were both taken prisoner.
Then once again, one of the side effects of the toxin he's been continually given, takes effect. And he has another flashback within his mind. The same flashback that's plagued him over the last two weeks or so...

Two Weeks Ago. The Great Western Ocean...

On the bunk in the cabin he's been kept held in, Mira Reinholt the mage shakes his head after being forced to drink the potion again. The two crewmen who held him down, make their way from the cabin, while the once powerful mage feels the increase in levels of the toxin within his body take full affect.
Feeling fuzzy headed, the mage Reinholt couldn't touch his magic, what little he has, even if he wanted to. It's out of his reach, as it has been ever since he was taken captive.
The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster sits there looking at the two who took him prisoner, along with Dorc da Orc.
The Vexilian mage in exile tries to listen to them, amongst the others in the cabin. It takes a little while for him to understand what they're talking about, as he finds it difficult to concentrate on what people are saying after having the potion so recently.
"You sure?" asks abbott Halarn "I'm sure" replies Kaldeàlil Haldéilv the elven magic user, the abbott from the church of Galavin, the last one of the three from three and half years ago, nods his head, then asks the attractive elven maid "A ship?".
"No" replies the Kaldeàlil Haldéilv, who is looking through a spell she has placed upon the top of one of the cutter's masts, she continues with "He's swimming" the attractive elven maid pauses for a moment or two, then she adds "Quickly" the elven magic user after another pause, says "Far more quickly than this ship is moving that's for sure".
As he sees a grimace appear upon the face of the abbott from the headquarters of the church of Galavin in the city-state of Brattonbury. And similar looks on the faces of the other church members in the cabin.
Mira Reinholt as he sits on his bunk, slowly smiles as he realises who they're talking about. And though the smile looks sickly upon his face, the once powerful mage can't help but grin.
"You're all fucked" says Mira Reinholt the mage, which no one can hear, as it sounds like a soft mumble of nothing, more than anything else. As the potion that he's been forced to drink since being taken captive, pretty much robs him of his ability to speak. Especially after just taking the potion, which is the case now.
The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, shakes his head again, trying to clear the fuzzy feeling that's taken over his mind.
It's no good, and he gives up on that. Instead the Vexilian mage in exile concentrates on the conversation taking place in the cabin. Finding it difficult to understand, until after a few moments, he picks up what's being said.
"Damn filthy spawn of hell" loudly mutters abbott Halarn of the church of Galavin, who then asks the elven magic user "How far away?" she answers him with "About five miles" Kaldeàlil Haldéilv who is looking through a farsight spell she has placed on the top of the aft mast, continues with "At the speed he's moving, he'll be here pretty soon". The attractive elven maid, who is in charge, much to the chagrin of the church of Galavin abbott and the other church members, looks at them, especially the abbott "We've lured him here, so it's time for you to take care of him as you've promised" she holds up a hand, before continuing with "Hopefully we get the information i want before you destroy him".
"Hopefully" quietly says abbott Halarn, who to he honest, couldn't care less about the information the attractive elven maid wants. Instead the head of the church of Galavin, and those who have travelled with him from their headquarters in Brattonbury, only have one thing in mind.
To destroy the individual who attacked their headquarters in the city of Brattonbury three and half years ago, killing one of the three abbotts at that time in the process.
Abbott Halarn turns to other church members, all clerics and fighting priests and priestesses, with the exception of one, and starts issuing orders.
The mage Reinholt snorts, as he knows that everyone in this cabin, with hopefully the exception of himself, are doomed. The spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands. Looks carefully at the abbott from the church of Galavin, who he knows is the only one who could pose problems for who is about to arrive.
How does the Vexilian mage know this. Because he's the one who told his captors. Though unwittingly, as they read his mind to find information to help their cause. Much to his disgust, and annoyance since he couldn't do anything about it due to the potion they've been force feeding him.
Mira Reinholt as his thoughts briefly wandered, takes a little bit of time to concentrate on what's being said by those in the cabin, eventually he hears what they're saying, which gives him hope. Though the swordmaster from the city-state of Vexil gets slightly worried when he sees what Kaldeàlil Haldéilv takes from a pack at her feet.
"Draw from it wherever you can" says the attractive elven maid to the spellcasters from the church of Galavin as she holds a large spell gem, an energy crystal that's pulsing with magical power "It'll probably be our only chance" adds the elven magic user who knows that the head of the church of Galavin is the only one who can do anything against what they're about to face.
Kaldeàlil Haldéilv who has worked for three years trying to hunt someone down to kill them for what they did. Who finally feels that she's making definitive progress having captured two of the associates of the one she's after, and hopefully soon another, or at least destroy the third.
Is about to say something else to those with clerical powers, when she quickly changes her mind as she looks through her viewing spell on top of the aft mast above, and she sees in the night outside, what's quickly approaching the twin masted cutter from the port side.
"He's here!" warns Kaldeàlil Haldéilv "Get ready!" loudly says abbott Halarn as he the others all look to where the attractive elven maid points at the hull to port, Mira Reinholt slowly turns his head that way and waits in anticipation, he doesn't have to wait long.
The once powerful mage doesn't know exactly what happens, but all of a sudden wood goes flying everywhere as the hull burst inwards. The Vexilian mage in exile sees one of the clerics go flying across infront of his bunk, and smash into and through the bulkhead on the otherside of the cabin.
The mage Reinholt hears shouting and yelling, but he can't understand what's being said as he's finding it difficult to concentrate as too much is going on for his addled mind to focus on. Though the highly skilled swordmaster does grin again as he figures everyone in the cabin is getting killed.
"Told you, you were all fucked" says Mira Reinholt, which again comes out in an inaudible mumble, the Vexilian mage in exile flinches as there's a thump in the bulkhead right next to his bunk, he looks that way and sees blood splattered everywhere, he looks down and sees the top half of a dead priestess from the church of Galavin slumped against the cabin wall there.
The swordmaster Reinholt blinks when he finally hears a voice, it's the head of the church of Galavin, the abbott Halarn who he hears shout in a triumphant tone of voice "Got him!" the once powerful mage looks further to his left to see what's happened, and he sees lord Farque lying on the floor of the cabin near a large hole in the port side hull.
Mira Reinholt grimaces as he knows that it was the information taken from his mind, that his captors learnt that the undead warlord is vulnerable to only holy ground, or the most highest level, and most powerful of clerical magic.
There's only three of them still standing in the cabin, Kaldeàlil Haldéilv, abbott Halarn and one other, who the head of the church of Galavin says to "I don't think i can hold him for long, Polisa can you do anything".
The traveling deacon originally from the city-state of Vexil, the only one of the church members who was onboard who is not a spellcaster, and the only one along with the abbott who is still alive. Jumps over a dead cleric whose head is missing, and he swings his sword down at the prone figure of the undead being lying on the cabin floor.
Polisa the traveling deacon mutters "Fuck" and drops his sword that's now bent, and shakes his arm after the reverberating shock ran up it from where he hit the undead being in the head, to be exact in the full helm.
The traveling deacon backs away, narrowly missing the large sword that the undead being was wielding, which is now sticking up out of the cabin floor. The member of the church of Galavin looks quickly at the head of his church who says "I don't think i can keep holding him like this" as the abbott feels his hold the undead spell weakening.
As abbott Halarn draws more power from the energy crystal Kaldeàlil Haldéilv is holding, so that he can keep sustaining his spell, the elven magic user takes a few steps across the cabin to where the undead being is prone on the floor, with white bands of energy wrapped around him.
Looking at the large, heavily armoured figure, the attractive elven maid who can hear some of the crew rushing to the cabin here beneath the foredeck of the twin masted sailing ship says in the elven language "Where is he?" she follows it up with "Where is that fucking princeling from Laerel?".
Though the prone figure on the cabin floor can't really move due to the spell it's under the influence of, he does slightly move his head to the right, so that he's looking at the two members of the church of Galavin, and the attractive elven maid. He doesn't say anything, he just stares at them for a few moments. Then suddenly his eyes start to glow blue.
"Do something!" is what Mira Reinholt hears the abbott Halarn shout at Kaldeàlil Haldéilv, the once powerful mage figures lord Farque is about to break free of whatever holding spell the most powerful spellcaster in the church of Galavin is holding him with.
"You won't listen to me, you're all fucked" says the mage Reinholt in a mumble as he grins as he knows once the lord and ruler of the lands Farque breaks free of the spell that has momentarily incapacitated him, the abbott and the traveling deacon from the church of Galavin, as well as the attractive elven maid from beyond the Southlands will all be dead.
Then the attractive elven maid Kaldeàlil Haldéilv does something unexpected, especially considering she doesn't have any new information in her search for the person she's been after for the last three years.
She quickly casts a couple of spells as she senses the abbott Halarn trying to maintain his powerful holding spell, a far more powerful spell she could ever hope to cast. The attractive elven maid creates a rift spell, then as she shouts at the head of the church of Galavin "Keep casting it no matter what!".
Kaldeàlil Haldéilv once the rift spell is complete and water starts rushing in through it from the otherside, she quickly casts the most powerful blast spell she can with the aid of the energy crystal she's holding . . . . . .