WG- Another Shadow Over Hackdirt Options

[Elisabeth Hollow]

I apologize for clogging the free-roaming Wobbly Goblet thread with our mission, as neither of us thought about making another thread(Until I did this morning.)

Once we get a hold of an Admin, we'll see abut putting the rest of the mission here. Until then our Hackdirt posts will be kept here.

[Darkness Eternal]

Draken was utterly pleased at the struggle Kayla was going through, and the fight that she had put up. In just those minutes she had answered Draken's question if she was a capable fighter. Her fighting skills were uncivilized, however. She'd fought like a panicked animal, a skilled animal, but a beast nonetheless.

At this rate, she'll do all the work and I won't have to lift a finger.

She single-handedly knocked two men out after keeping up the struggle and managed to escaped with the promise that she would locate the keys and her and his weapon, too. Her victory was short-lived when more of the locals caught sight of her. She fled, and they passed in front of his cell to chase her, paying no heed to the unconscious man on the ground.

This. Is. Good.

Draken pondered on how he could escape, but he wanted to know the reason for his capture. Years ago he heard of the Deep Ones. Some said they were daedric, others said they were something else. One survivor who escaped his kidnapping from the townspeople came to the Legion for help and informed them of the rituals that had been happening. He was the third man in two weeks in that time, and the Legion saw an opportunity to bring justice to the land by torching down the village.

They cared not for who the Deep Ones were or why the cultists did what they did but Draken wanted more, and so he set upon his own agenda. He didn't get the answers he sought. Not was the opportunity.

He waited for the man to regain his consciousness. Surely he knows.

****

Arentus came to his senses sometime after. He'd underestimated the woman and now as he looked around with confusion he saw that she escaped. The sounds of the brethren screaming after her bounced off the cavern walls in a long echo. They would find her, they always do. They can see extremely well in the darkness and they would not allow another survivor to lure the legion dogs into his town again.

As for Arentus himself, he was limited. Not yet there, but someday he would. Someday.

He got to his feet despite the pain in his sternum and turned to see that the Imperial was still in his cell. Hands behind his back and eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness. The sight of this monster brought back unwanted memories:

The cavern below reflected the opinion most outsiders had of Hackdirt; they saw it as an ugly, grimy pit. Arentus knew that those who lived in Chorrol felt the same. But he had seen the village’s true beauty. And there was simplicity in that beauty.

Hackdirt had no need for extravagant buildings made of polished stone, nor did the members need fantastic cloth to warm their bodies. Things here are kept simple and humble and yet something so normal brought the wrath of outsiders.

Though he feared their arrival thirty something years ago, he now felt stunned and even glad that an outsider had ventured into the cave. Not the woman. The woman was just any other explorer eager to help out a woman crying false tears and though she ran away, she would be dragged back into the cavern for the sacrifice.

But the man . . . this fiend. Arentus instantly recognized the face from his nightmares. He was older, but his features were unmistakable and unchanged: the thick head of black hair; the pale skin, long nails; the cruel set of his eyes and jaw. He recognized him as if the horrific event happened yesterday and not three decades ago.

The memory was familiar, yet still terrifying:

He is a young boy old again, huddled behind a set of barrels that contained most of their stored food. His mother staring out the stained window of their home, mouth clamped over her hand. "By the Deep, they've come! Arentus, they've come!"

There were screams of warning outside and hooves of horses pounding on the dirt and the smell of smoke and fire coming from outside. She’s ordered him to stay inside, hidden from view, until the attackers leave. But this was painful to do. As he hid he could hear more screams that were of pain and shouts of Imperial soldiers.

He was frozen in place, so rooted to the floor that it took his own mother to pick his little body and set him inside the barrel with haste. “Stay here, my son. Don’t make any noise. No matter what happens, you stay here!”

There was a sense of urgency in command that he wouldn’t dare disobey. “But, mamma. What is happening?”

The door burst open and a tall man entered, a young man. No older than twenty-five. He can see him through tiny holes dotting the barrel: He's fully armored in a soldier’s outfit. His head has a full set of hair; his armor is silver but tainted with red. He knows he’s an outsider and he’s come to burn down this village.

“Why do you come to this place?"

“Hackdirt is condemned by law to be torched to the ground,” there was authority in this man’s voice that seemed it did not belong coming from a prince-like face. “You know the reason for my presence." There was an amused smile behind that cold-stone countenance.

His mother knew of this, and was partially responsible, but she stood her ground. Unwilling to apologize, negotiate, or change her ways for the likes of this man.

“Do you surrender or will you resist?”

“Take what you want, outsider,” his mother said with pride. “But I won’t surrender. I was born here and I’ll die here.”

The soldier ‘s hand drops to the hilt of his saber and he takes a half step forward, eyes darting around the small home.

The door opens again, and another soldier steps in, looking directly at his mother with disinterest and then to the other outsider. “Lord Draken, Decumus, sir, the commander has ordered the accused for execution.”

The younger-looking man nodded and raised a hand. “This one is under my control. Give me some time.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll tell the men to save this house for last,” said the other as he left.

The man begins to inspect the house, flipping over cupboards and tables with impossible strength. He seemed so focused on his task that he ignored the ear-piercing cries from outside or the collapsing houses.

“Where are the Deep Ones?” the man said softly now, as if trying to soothe his way to information. "Who are they?"

“I am not afraid to die,” Arentus’ mother tells him without answering his question. “As I have said, take what you want.”

"I won't ask again."

"Take what you want."

Infuriated the man whirls around and begins to search through chests, reading through old pages and books and with frustration, he burned them with his own hand!

Arentus sees his mother slip a sharp knife from the kitchen table into her sleeve. The man is bent over, throwing papers around. She runs to him, knife raised and heart surely pounding, and brings the blade down for the kill. But the knife never struck. The blade never pierced flesh.

Arentus heard choking sounds and risked a peek to see the man hold her in the air without touching her. She clawed at her throat and managed a pitiful squeal.

“As you desire, I’ll take what I want,” he hissed through clenched teeth and dropped his mother on the floor, and then . . . Arentus couldn’t see what else happened, for she was taken somewhere else. But her pleas were terryfing and heart-breaking.

After she stopped struggling and her screams died, the soldier cast fire all around the house, engulfing wood, paper and everything else into flame and then he left. Just like that. He left.

Arentus remembers falling from the barrel, running to his mother where she lay with torn clothes, bruised, ravaged . . . and dead. Wounds on her neck. But he had no time to mourn. The house was crumbling down upon his head.

And so Arentus escaped through the hidden passageway into the caverns . . .

The caverns which he now stood with the very same soldier from that day.

"I have you to myself now."

The man, knowing he was alone, at last cracked an all too familar frown. "Yes. Yes you do."

This post has been edited by Darkness Eternal: Aug 13 2013, 10:54 PM