The Terrors of the Mind.
Posted: Tue Nov 11, 2008 8:44 am
((Closed rp, please))
Amira’s eyes gazed out upon the moon lit ocean. It was quiet and serine, everything the past two years had not been. It had been a nightmare which she had wished over and over again that she could wake up from. Yet as Amira continued to observe the moon light glittering against the dancing waves of the ocean and listened to the soft crashing of the waves against the ship, she felt as if the nightmare had not ended. For it was a calm and cool night such as this when they found her.
~~~~~~
It was quiet, as it always was on the shores just outside of Greenbriar. Amira’s light brown eyes were focused on a page in her book which was softly lit by a small glowing orb above her head. The warlock exams were upon her, and she was struggling to absorb every last bit of information she could before her test. Failure was not an option in Amira’s mind. Not only did she crave to earn the full title of warlock, but she was uninterested in upsetting her mentor and adoptive mother, Pellandria with a failing grade.
Voices… Amira raised her head up from the book she was so engrossed in and glanced about. Slowly she slipped her book into the bag next to her which was filled to the brim with books and scrolls, some happening to bear the label “Property of Trolls Bane Library,” or “Property of the Magic Academy.” Items which she happened to be nonchalantly borrowing from their rightful owners. Amira raised her hand, whisking away the glowing orb and allowing the energy to be absorbed into her palm. In an instant Amira had slung her hefty bag over her shoulder and grabbed her wooden staff.
Curiosity having gotten the better of her as usual, she made her way towards the forest to seek out the voices. Leaf litter cracked under her feet, hardly making her silent as she headed in the direction of those within. The words from within stopped and the forest grew silent once more. Amira paused where she was, small glimmers of moon light poked through the dense treetops giving her some insight of the tranquility of the forest.
As Amira stood taking in the scene around her, she failed to hear the three men creeping up on her. All three appeared to be worse for wear, their clothing torn and battered, something which made no difference to them. The middle of his three raised his open hands, getting ready to grab the young woman if possible, to his right a man carried a wound up rope, and to his left the man carried a blunt club. Their eyes settled on Amira, only they knew what was going to happen to the unsuspecting woman.
He reached! His cold hands upon Amira’s arm startled her, causing her to turn towards the aggressors in surprise. In what limited light there was, the warlock apprentice could see the man’s malevolent grin. She let go of her staff, reaching to take the man’s arm and pull herself away. The three chuckled, noting what little good her lacking of strength did her. Amira’s eyes narrowed, they would not take her so easily. As she gazed up to the men who were laughing at her she concentrated very carefully, drawing upon the streams and vibrations of life around her to defend herself. Energy which was then focused to the hand she rested on his arm, energy which burned and boiled.
“Witch! Witch!” The man cried, quickly letting go of her hand and pulling his arm away. He held his forearm which had started to blister and discolor already. “Get the witch! She’ll be worth double!” The narrowed, focused brown eyes soon widened and showed certain fearfulness. That accent… those words… Albar… Albarians… In an instant Amira darted off into the forest, not far behind her were the footsteps of those seeking to capture her. Though not the most graceful, Amira was young and still retained a tiny bit of her childlike elegance. Little good that did her in the night, where her already poor eyesight deemed to be even worse; not far in front of Amira was a raised root, just waiting for her to arrive.
The root managed to snag Amira’s foot, bring her down to the wet forest leaves with an ungraceful oomph. As she attempted to free herself the two uninjured men gained on the young warlock to be. She raised herself up, moving to get away. In an instant Amira was down on the ground once again. The man with the club had swung at her head, stunning the teenager. His friend with the rope grabbed for her hand, quickly tying them behind her back. As Amira was dragged up from her spot she, the man with the club swung at her head again, causing her to sway and her vision to blur.
As Amira was dragged away from where she fell, the forest danced around her. She was delirious after the second hit, soft words sputtered out of her mouth, runes, names, objects, none of which making any sense to either her or her captors. Towards the water she was taken. A ship had laid anchor just off of the shore, no where in view of any of the near by towns. “Tie her down, drug her! We can’t have a witch setting our boat on fire!” Cried the lead man who was holding onto his burned arm. He followed them up, eyes focused on the young warlock apprentice.
With much disregard towards Amira, the men pulled her into a room and undid her original bindings. She was forced down onto the bed and shackled. Amira watched through blurred eyes as the two men rummaged around the room, one finally pulling out a bottle of water and a few herbs which he dropped into the bottle. The bottle was shook violently, even as he approached her. Its contents swirled around, the small herbs slowly dissolving within. His friend grasped Amira’s nose and opened her mouth, allowing for the other man to jab the lips of the bottle in her mouth. He tipped the bottle back, forcing the stagnant liquid into her body. Amira gave a violent cough, attempting to force the bottle away, but was restrained by her shackles. Unable to breath she was forced to swallow instead, taking in the vile liquid that she was forced to drink.
When the bottle was removed Amira coughed again. Her throat burned and so did her lungs. Very few thoughts crossed through her mind as the men laughed over her misfortune. Currently blurred vision turned into a fading darkness as her head swirled with the events occurring in front of her. As her vision weakened she found the last things she remembered was a hand undoing a belt and the pounding of her heart in her ears.
Amira’s eyes gazed out upon the moon lit ocean. It was quiet and serine, everything the past two years had not been. It had been a nightmare which she had wished over and over again that she could wake up from. Yet as Amira continued to observe the moon light glittering against the dancing waves of the ocean and listened to the soft crashing of the waves against the ship, she felt as if the nightmare had not ended. For it was a calm and cool night such as this when they found her.
~~~~~~
It was quiet, as it always was on the shores just outside of Greenbriar. Amira’s light brown eyes were focused on a page in her book which was softly lit by a small glowing orb above her head. The warlock exams were upon her, and she was struggling to absorb every last bit of information she could before her test. Failure was not an option in Amira’s mind. Not only did she crave to earn the full title of warlock, but she was uninterested in upsetting her mentor and adoptive mother, Pellandria with a failing grade.
Voices… Amira raised her head up from the book she was so engrossed in and glanced about. Slowly she slipped her book into the bag next to her which was filled to the brim with books and scrolls, some happening to bear the label “Property of Trolls Bane Library,” or “Property of the Magic Academy.” Items which she happened to be nonchalantly borrowing from their rightful owners. Amira raised her hand, whisking away the glowing orb and allowing the energy to be absorbed into her palm. In an instant Amira had slung her hefty bag over her shoulder and grabbed her wooden staff.
Curiosity having gotten the better of her as usual, she made her way towards the forest to seek out the voices. Leaf litter cracked under her feet, hardly making her silent as she headed in the direction of those within. The words from within stopped and the forest grew silent once more. Amira paused where she was, small glimmers of moon light poked through the dense treetops giving her some insight of the tranquility of the forest.
As Amira stood taking in the scene around her, she failed to hear the three men creeping up on her. All three appeared to be worse for wear, their clothing torn and battered, something which made no difference to them. The middle of his three raised his open hands, getting ready to grab the young woman if possible, to his right a man carried a wound up rope, and to his left the man carried a blunt club. Their eyes settled on Amira, only they knew what was going to happen to the unsuspecting woman.
He reached! His cold hands upon Amira’s arm startled her, causing her to turn towards the aggressors in surprise. In what limited light there was, the warlock apprentice could see the man’s malevolent grin. She let go of her staff, reaching to take the man’s arm and pull herself away. The three chuckled, noting what little good her lacking of strength did her. Amira’s eyes narrowed, they would not take her so easily. As she gazed up to the men who were laughing at her she concentrated very carefully, drawing upon the streams and vibrations of life around her to defend herself. Energy which was then focused to the hand she rested on his arm, energy which burned and boiled.
“Witch! Witch!” The man cried, quickly letting go of her hand and pulling his arm away. He held his forearm which had started to blister and discolor already. “Get the witch! She’ll be worth double!” The narrowed, focused brown eyes soon widened and showed certain fearfulness. That accent… those words… Albar… Albarians… In an instant Amira darted off into the forest, not far behind her were the footsteps of those seeking to capture her. Though not the most graceful, Amira was young and still retained a tiny bit of her childlike elegance. Little good that did her in the night, where her already poor eyesight deemed to be even worse; not far in front of Amira was a raised root, just waiting for her to arrive.
The root managed to snag Amira’s foot, bring her down to the wet forest leaves with an ungraceful oomph. As she attempted to free herself the two uninjured men gained on the young warlock to be. She raised herself up, moving to get away. In an instant Amira was down on the ground once again. The man with the club had swung at her head, stunning the teenager. His friend with the rope grabbed for her hand, quickly tying them behind her back. As Amira was dragged up from her spot she, the man with the club swung at her head again, causing her to sway and her vision to blur.
As Amira was dragged away from where she fell, the forest danced around her. She was delirious after the second hit, soft words sputtered out of her mouth, runes, names, objects, none of which making any sense to either her or her captors. Towards the water she was taken. A ship had laid anchor just off of the shore, no where in view of any of the near by towns. “Tie her down, drug her! We can’t have a witch setting our boat on fire!” Cried the lead man who was holding onto his burned arm. He followed them up, eyes focused on the young warlock apprentice.
With much disregard towards Amira, the men pulled her into a room and undid her original bindings. She was forced down onto the bed and shackled. Amira watched through blurred eyes as the two men rummaged around the room, one finally pulling out a bottle of water and a few herbs which he dropped into the bottle. The bottle was shook violently, even as he approached her. Its contents swirled around, the small herbs slowly dissolving within. His friend grasped Amira’s nose and opened her mouth, allowing for the other man to jab the lips of the bottle in her mouth. He tipped the bottle back, forcing the stagnant liquid into her body. Amira gave a violent cough, attempting to force the bottle away, but was restrained by her shackles. Unable to breath she was forced to swallow instead, taking in the vile liquid that she was forced to drink.
When the bottle was removed Amira coughed again. Her throat burned and so did her lungs. Very few thoughts crossed through her mind as the men laughed over her misfortune. Currently blurred vision turned into a fading darkness as her head swirled with the events occurring in front of her. As her vision weakened she found the last things she remembered was a hand undoing a belt and the pounding of her heart in her ears.