Skylar's pulse instantly skyrocketed; adrenaline flooded into his system, even as posts flooded his mind requesting to see the elf's feet or forps. He cautiously held up his hands, clearing his throat. "Uh... no? I'm not a cult... guy."
"Lies," the elf disagreed flatly, tossing her golden hair. "You are a cultist of Gram -- this is known to me. The question now is..." -- she raised her free hand, poised for a lunge that would impale Skylar's throat -- "...will you come quietly? Or will you fight?"
Option three it is.
Despite the sweat pouring off him, Skylar smirked. "It's not me you have to fight," he commented, nodding in the direction behind the elf. Disconcerted, she half-turned, her blade wavering as she looked away in alarm.
Skylar Kass legged it.
To his amazement, he took off like a rocket engine -- his body was light, strong, and incredibly fast and nimble. Pretty sure I was never this athletic when I was fifteen the first time around. He ducked, leapt, and juked from side to side as he ran, moving with the ease of a forest gazelle; such was his incredible speed that he made it nearly fifty meters in a handful of seconds, at which point he ran face-first into a tree because he was completely blind in the dark.
The impact plowed through his consciousness like a lorry crashing through a brick wall. Instantly, he was out cold.
garbled static
silence
Ow, fratz. This is becoming a habit.
Skylar blinked, groaning; the elf was sitting on his chest, looking at him quizzically. "I've seen a lot of escape attempts," she commented laconically, "and it may amuse you to know that that was not the worst one. But only because you didn't drotz your culty little trousers." Skylar opened his mouth to protest and received a backhanded cuff across his face for his troubles; the elf's blow wasn't heavy, but it was more than enough to preempt his interruption. "Still," she continued as if nothing had happened, "let's avoid that in the future." She pointed a finger directly at his face and intoned, "By the third word of Maivat's law, let the prisoner be bound. Karkrai."
Instantly, a brilliant golden light flared before his eyes; when it dimmed, he had to blink several times in order to regain his vision. But what he saw astonished him.
Glowing, translucent manacles -- apparently formed of pure and solid light -- encircled his wrists, linked together by a foot or so of golden chains made of a similar material; they felt weightless, but completely unbreakable.
"Ready to come quietly now?" The elf took hold of the center of the chain and yanked, hard; Skylar abruptly found himself upright, stumbling to avoid a painful fall, and he grimaced while suppressing a lewd remark. Something tells me mouthing off will get me punched again. "You've got a long way to march."
Skylar frowned as the elf tugged him forward, nearly dragging him bodily into the darkness. "And we're going where, exactly?"
"Civilization," the elf returned over her shoulder, giving the chain another yank. "For your trial, of course. We're not barbarians, after all."
Skylar nodded. "I see. And in civilization, do they have knowledge of topology?"
The elf cocked her head over her shoulder, frowning back at him; instantly, Skylar lunged forward, wrapping the chain of his manacles around the back of the elf's own wrist at an angle before yanking his hands apart. The force applied by the torque of the movement ripped the chain diagonally out of the elf's grip, pulling it roughly out between her thumb and fingertips; she let out a grunt of pained annoyance and grabbed at him with her other hand, but caught only air as he darted across her body in the other direction and leapt past her into the crepuscular void beyond.
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That's what you think. He put on an extra burst of speed as he heard a muttered curse behind him, but only laughed as he ran; he could instantly tell that the elf's top speed, while impressive, was significantly slower than his own. "Thanks for the light source!" Skylar called back gleefully, dodging and vaulting over rocks and roots as he ducked between tree trunks and groping branches. He felt swift, agile, and fluid; he felt unstoppable.
He made it almost three minutes.
With a suddenness that astonished him, a great shape loomed out of the darkness; he glimpsed snow-white fur, great yellow eyes, and teeth as long as knives in a wet, red mouth.
HOLY DROTZ THAT'S AN ENORMOUS CAT
A huge paw, bigger than his own head, flashed with the speed of a striking snake out towards him; to his own surprise, he managed to dodge it by the slimmest of margins, but such a desperate evasion came at the cost of his own momentum. He tripped, rolled, and skated under the branches of another tree, hoping to run in another direction; but the great cat was there instantly as well, growling softly in the darkness as it blocked his path. "Bad kitty! Go away!" he hissed, but it merely pounced towards him again; cursing, he turned just in time to see the elf's gauntleted fist swinging towards his nose.
A starburst of pain erupted behind his sinuses; when he regained his faculties, he was rolling around on the ground in pain, blood pouring from his nostrils and the blade of the elf's sword driven through the links of the chain connecting his manacles, pinning him to the ground. "I had everything," the elf complained to the enormous feline, "under control."
"Assuredly," a rumbling voice responded sardonically; Skylar watched through squinted, watering eyes as the huge cat's shape dwindled and shrank into a samite mound which became a hooded white cloak on the shoulders of another, taller elf with a huge white beard. "But we have no time to waste; you are fortunate that the other prisoners did not follow his example."
"If you knew he was going to be so squirrelly, you should have warned me," the female elf huffed, dragging Skylar to his feet; she pointed her sword at his stomach, clearly out of patience with him. "Run again, and I gut you," she promised grimly.
Skylar grimaced. Don't believe everything you read on the internet. "Like you wouldn't run if somebody tried to abduct you?" he commented to the female elf sourly. "A guy can't even say hi to an elf in a forest before she whips out a sword on him, and I'm the villain here?"
The older elf looked at him sidelong, raising an eyebrow. "A bit puny for a cultist of Gram. I see you were forced to use an Invocation; were you required to defend yourself against his dark powers?"
The female elf sniffed. "Hardly. If anything, it's a protective measure; the little gomdak nearly brained himself on a tree." Still holding her sword close to Skylar's stomach, she reached out her other hand towards the elder elf. "Mind passing me the guide-rope?"
"A moment." The other turned and ventured a little way into the darkness; Skylar noticed that he carried himself in a lumbering, broad-shouldered way despite his thin frame. Dude moves like a bear. A moment later, he returned, leading two other shadowy figures along a length of hempen cord; he passed the end of the rope to the she-elf nonchalantly, then raised a silvery lantern which illuminated the space around them softly. "Well, Reine? Shall we affix our latest catch to the front of the train, or the rear?"
"Definitely the rear; that's where little graks go." The elf -- Reine, I guess? -- swiftly threaded the cord around Skylar's wrists and knotted it expertly then snapped her fingers; in a bright flash, the golden manacles disappeared, and he discovered that he was now affixed to the rope and bound behind the other two figures. Slave to the Elves on Day 1. You guys think that's a new record?
Yeah, no, I'm not getting stabbed for your amusement. Skylar set his jaw and grimaced. "So you're really just going to kidnap me? Even though I didn't do anything?"
"You are a cultist of Gram," Reine repeated, a tinge of annoyance creeping into her voice. "Even if your attire did not betray your allegiance, we have also captured your leader."
"Hey, I'm innocent too!" The second figure bound to the rope, closes to Skylar, twisted and bucked against his bonds; he half-turned, looking backwards towards Skylar,and Skylar flinched in surprise. The man was covered in thick black hair from head to toe, like a troll or a werewolf, and had bright glowing red eyes which seethed with boiling crimson light like coals. "This is a set-up! Hey new guy, tell 'em I'm bein' set up!"
Skylar opened his mouth -- whether to protest or corroborate, he didn't know -- but a third voice from the head of the line cut him off. "The younglings are fearful. They do not yet know how Gram protects them." The third man's voice was deep and powerful, with a basso undertone which reminded Skylar very slightly of a choral effect. "I, however, am not afraid. I am indeed a worshipper of the Night King, and they are my apprentices."
"Buncha corfsmot. I've never seen this guy before in my life," Skylar scoffed. Twisting around the side of the hairy red-eyed man, he jockeyed for a better look at the man in the lead; but all he could see were black leathers and a mask which obscured every inch of the third man's body. "You're gonna take the word of a guy in a gimp suit?"
"I'm sure Reine would refer to it as 'testimony'; she is, after all, the justiciar here." The older elf shrugged. "Unless you have a more compelling narrative to offer?"
Skylar cleared his throat. "Well, in fact, the truth is..."
WHAT'S OUR STORY?
