World of Warcraft®

It was warm, and smelled faintly of cloves. Telirra rolled her head to the side and cracked open her one good eye. Black, all she saw was black, she also had a splitting headache. Involuntarily she moved her left hand to rub at her eye and she found it immobile. Her heart leaped into her throat in a moment of panic before her brain caught up with what was happening.

Iceia, she had been on her way from Lounge that night to his room. It was later than she would have liked, but she wasn’t about to leave Brae on her own. Telirra tried her hands again, feeling the cool kiss of steel on her wrists. She shifted her head to the right trying to hear her surroundings; everything was muffled as if she were underground. There weren’t any other sounds except that of her breathing and the shuffle of her clothes when she moved. Broken images started to drift back into her mind, the docks, the rain muffling the sounds around her, she had taken a shortcut through a back alley to avoid the mass of bodies out that night.

The rogue mentally kicked herself for being so lax; she hadn’t noticed someone following her until she had almost reached the inn. The hand that had closed around her arm was large; at least the size of an Orc’s, the other that clamped the cloth of chloroform over her nose and mouth was just as large. Her well-aimed punches had done nothing to aid her release and soon she ran out of oxygen and she had to take a breath. The darkness that followed was blissfully quick and painless. The pain in her head now was a side effect of the Orc’s heavy hand with the stuff, an amateur who didn’t know how to measure out a good dose of chloroform for the size of the individual.

The sudden realization of what was happening came crashing down on Telirra like a ton of bricks. Iceia. His was the first face that swam behind her eyes when her head started to spin again. She shook the thing in question to clear it, there was no time to be getting emotional, and she needed to think to get out of this. Telirra moved her hands experimentally, the shackles around her wrists were tight but not uncomfortably so, there would be no way of getting her hands out without dislocating her thumbs and she would rather not have to do that for the moment. She followed the chains attached to the shackles and found they bolted her to the floor, not the chair. She had to admire her kidnappers intelligence, most usually think that someone is totally restrained if they are just tied to a chair. A smirk crept across her face when she found her legs to be free, the dress she felt covering them gave her slight pause but she didn’t have time to think about her attire at the moment. The sound of a key in a lock made her halt her movements, she felt a door open and the scent of cloves became much stronger and was mixed with the hint of wine.

“Ah, the beauty awakens.”

“Fa-Lalir?! What the fel is going on?” Telirra started to fight against her bindings with real fervor now. He tutted at her like he had done when she was little, she immediately stopped fighting her shackles out of sheer habit.

“I wouldn’t do that, Elementium is very strong and I had them made especially for you ‘Lira,” he sounded disappointed in her. Instead of the guilt she would have felt years ago the tone of his voice filled her with rage.

“What is the meaning of this?” She clenched her teeth to keep from shouting at him.
“It was the only way I could be sure you would listen to me,” she heard him walk closer to her and soon her blindfold was gone and she was blinking at the sudden light.

“You’ve talked to me and sent me gifts and letters, an intelligent man would chalk it up as a loss and move one,” she glared at him but it had no effect. Her father’s usual well-kept hair looked messy and un-brushed, there were wine and ink stains on his normally impeccably clean robes. His acid green eyes fell on her, trailing over her hair, then her uncovered eye, falling down to her chest and whatever it was she was wearing.
“You looked so much like your mother, before that idiot boy talked you into cutting off your lovely hair.” The disappointed frown seemed to be a permanent feature on his face for the time being.

“He wasn’t an idiot, and it’s stupid for a Ranger to have long hair.” She couldn’t help defending her childhood friend and the reason for her short hair. The tall elf that called himself her father strode over to her and reached for her hair. Telirra could smell the crack of the arcane around him and she jerked away causing the shackles to cut into her wrists. Before she had enough to time kick out at him his hand was stroking her head, her heart rate tripled as her head started to tingle. The magic taking root in her scalp and making it itch. The smell was overwhelming her senses and she nearly passed out, she tried to separate her mind from her body and focus on something else. The first thing she was able to focus on was Iceia, the way he teased her whenever she blushed. She was remembering one of their nights alone when the smell abruptly cut off and she could breath again. Turning her head caused her to let out a small gasp, her head was heavier. The black hair she made sure was always trimmed short was now cascading down her back and shoulders. Falling just below her shoulder blade and getting stuck between her back and the chair.

‘What is wrong with you?!” She couldn’t comprehend why he would grow her hair out, her head was still spinning from the magic he had forcibly used on her. Lalir reached out to touch the scar on the right side of her face but she jerked out of his reach and moved to bite his hand.

“Shame…there is only so much magic can do before it’s spent, or the subject is killed. The long hair should cover it well enough I suppose,” he said jerking his hand away from her teeth. His plans for her were starting to creep their way into her consciousness no matter how much she tried to prevent it.

‘What do you want with me?” She narrowed her eye at him, her black hair now falling expertly over her scarred face. Lalir looked at her with surprise as if he just noticed her.

“I just want you back in my life, my lovely daughter.”

Nyah! Icy is mine!!!

((Sorry, couldn't resist.))

((Posted on behalf of Iceia))

That same morning, Iceia woke up feeling odd. He realized after a moment that he was alone. That's unusual. He got up and got ready for the day. He had the nagging feeling something was wrong, but he pushed it aside. He trusted Telirra, and he didn't nessiarly -need- her around constant to validate himself. She probably spent the night with Brae, and was already waiting at the office.

He checked on the pies he had baked the night before. He should probably start changing up what he left on the table for everyone, although it was rare he had any to take home at the end of a given day. He locked up the room, leaving handful of coins for whoever was in charging of cleaning and inspecting the room that day. He made his way over to the office, thanking the light he had a place so closeby to stay, his leg was acting up this morning.

As he come into the Booty Bay office he frowned as he saw Telirra wasn't in. Perhaps he misread the time and was early? He made a mental note to get himself a timepiece and sat at the table to wait for one of the higher ups to arrive.

Servants brought her food and kept her clean, she tried to keep track of how long she had been locked in the room. Hours? Days? Weeks? She knew someone would be looking for her by now, Telirra always made sure to leave some kind of note whenever she disappeared. Brae would know something was wrong…as if she didn’t have enough on her plate to deal with. The guilt cut through her like a knife, of all the times to get kidnapped…she shook her head, no use feeling guilty about that now. The chains holding her shackles to the ground had been extended the night (day?) she had been taken, long enough that she could move about the room freely. Not quite long enough to reach the walls or the door, but long enough that she could reach the small feather bed he had provided, and the chamber pot.

Telirra had tried to get the servants to talk to her, to tell her what was going on but they all kept silent. Whether by choice or magical means she didn’t really know either way she remained ignorant of the world outside her dark room.

She heard the clank of the lock and her father entered the room, he looked distraught and a little lost. His eyes fell on his daughter and his face contorted in agony.

“Oh Vylana, the city, our beautiful city…” he stumbled toward Telirra and collapsed at her feet. She could smell the wine on his breath from four feet away.

He’s drunk…the thought worried her. She backed away as much as the chains would let her but he crawled after her. Grabbing at the skirt of the dress he forced her to wear, a dress of her mothers. It didn’t quite fit, sagging in a few places. Her mother had always been fuller of figure than her, being a Mage wasn’t a particularly acrobatic calling. Her father started to push himself to his feet, grabbing her waist to steady himself. Telirra tried to move further away but the manacles cut into her wrists. Lalir caressed the side of his daughters face looking at her with unfocused eyes. Before she had time to react his mouth was upon hers, the taste of alcohol made her gag and she lashed out with her leg, knocking her father to the ground and ripping the beautiful dress in the process. The fall seemed to bring her father to his senses, he did not, however, look upset by what he had done. Slightly embarrassed but not ashamed like a father should feel after he had kissed his daughter the way he used to kiss his wife.

“Telirra, you have ruined your mothers dress.” He frowned at her then turned and left before she could say anything. Telirra felt dirty, she wanted to tear the dress to pieces, chop her hair off, and jump in a freezing cold river. Her skin was crawling and she felt like she might vomit, the knowledge of what just happened and what her father might want her for sunk like a stone in the pit of her stomach.

He wants my mother back…and he thinks I’m her…

The sing-song of two alto voices- one sweet and warm and the other a shade lowe and richer, heralded new arrivals at the office. The conversation ebbed and flowed in Zandali, even spirited disagreements came across with a pleasantly rhythmic and melodic to any listening ears. Brae’s dark auburn curls preceded the rest of the mage- an impressive feat, considering the rate at which her waistline seemed to be increasing. She offered a dimpled smile at Cori Sprocketquill before she turned her head and addressed her companion once again.

The figure that moved through the door behind Brae stood somewhere clearly over six feet, fuschia hair styled up and back into a solid mass of spikes held in place by a simple white linen band. A number of small bone fetishes tinkled slightly as she moved, and there was a hint of caution as she slid the base of her staff along the ground in front of her, checking for pitfalls that were less than glaringly obvious. Even from a distance, it was easy to note the faint milky film over her eyes that would explain her caution. She scowled at the mage. “Two hours. Dat’s what’s ya got, den w gots ta get back. An’ I ain’t coverin’ fo’ ya again wit’ dat…” She caught herself, cleared her throat, and frowned again. “Ain’t coverin’ fo’ ya wit’ Yoresh again. Clear?” She crossed her arms and Brae’s sigh nearly echoed.

“F-fine. B-but I d-do oc-occasionally h-have to c-come in, d-despite wh-what you t-two want to f-frown about.” She spun on her heel, skirts swishing. Hasanah flopped into a chair, arms crossed and stared at Brae with a frown. , muttering something about bad influences and damn forest trolls under her breath. Brae was nearly to her office before she spotted the new shield bearer. She offered him a bright smile. “G-Good m-morning, Icea. A-are you s-settling in we-well? Is Tel h-here wi-with you? I’ve s-some th-things to di-discuss if sh-she is.”

((Posted on behalf of Iceia))

Iceia frowns, "No, she isn't. I thought she was with you because she was worried about you. I haven't seen her since the Lounge." He smiles at Hasanah, taking a note out of a side pouch and passing it to her.

The replacement dress he provided wasn't one of her mothers, it was one tailored to fit her perfectly. Telirra didn’t want to think about how he got her measurements; instead she focused on getting something to pick the lock of her manacles. Her newly grown hair was more trouble than it was worth, getting stuck in things and getting in her way whenever she bent over, or moved, or breathed. She decided the first thing she would do when she got out was chop it all off again. If…she shook her head, pushing the idea away, she would get out, either on her own or someone would come find her. Either way she wasn’t staying here for good, not unless she was dead.

Her chance came when her father decided he needed a portrait of her with her hair pinned back. There were servants who came to do her hair but the portrait artist never showed. Whoever her father had hired obviously wasn’t very professional and the servants were stupid enough to leave her with the hairpins, Picking the first lock took longer than she would have liked, the second was easier. They stopped locking the door to her cell after one of the servants got locked in with her, so getting out of the room wasn’t a problem. As silently as a ghost she prowled through the modest house, it was small but filled with the things she would expect her father to have. Grimoires’ and books, magical items that made her skin crawl and her ankle ache, and then the things that should not have been there at all. Their home had been destroyed when SIlvermoon fell, he shouldn’t have the portraits or the sculptures she had grown up with. Voices were coming from the door to her right and she crept by it, her bare feet making no sound on the lush carpet. She had almost made it to the front door when the long hair she wasn’t used to go stuck to something. The something was a porcelain Tiger that came crashing to the ground, the sound traveling through the small house.

Telirra ran for the door but she was brought to a sudden halt by a ward on the front door. She heard a door slam and she dashed down the hall to her left, away from the voices coming up the hall. The first door on her left was open and she slipped inside being as quiet as she could with the red dress her father had forced her into.

“The Tiger is smashed, do you think your ward failed and someone broke in Master Highvale?” The voice was unfamiliar to her but she heard her father mutter something in response. The footsteps went down the way she had come, she hadn’t had to disarm a ward in a very long time and she was positive she wouldn’t be able to without setting off some alarm.

I’ll just have to find a window…She peeked out the door; upon finding the hall deserted she slipped out and started to examine rooms, looking for windows. After she reached the end of the hall she had come down and found no windows she silently cursed her luck. It seemed the only way out was through the front door or not at all. She lifted her skirts and crept down the hall to the front door again when she heard the yell of outrage. Lalir had discovered her absence and she didn’t have any time to spare. Telirra dashed into the first room she could find and prayed that her father disarmed the ward thinking she had slipped past it somehow. Then she could take him from behind and get as far away from here as possible. Find a stone and contact Iceia or Brae, let them know where she was and get home.

“The ward is intact sir, she must still be in the house.” The same unfamiliar voice droned. Her heart dropped into her stomach, they wouldn’t be taking down the ward and her plan failed.

“Find her and bring her to my study,” his voice was dripping with anger. The footsteps that echoed told her there was more than once person looking for her. Possibly the Orc that had got the jump on her in Booty Bay, with a burst of daring she grabbed the closest blunt object she could find (a chair) and dashed into the hall to fight off her fathers guard and make a break for the front door. The first Elf didn’t know what hit him, the chair hitting him right on the head he crumpled into a heap on the ground. The second elf was more prepared for her swing and grabbed the chair. Instead of fighting for it back she pushed the chair at him and went for the sword the unconscious guard had. Before she reached it however her body stopped responding to her, she felt herself move against her will no matter how hard she fought him. Her eyes found the Priest mind controlling her, somehow he had mastered the art so that she was aware of what was going on but was powerless to stop it.

“My dear girl, it’s pointless, even if you found a way out of this house we are too far away from any civilized town. All you would find out there is a bleak land filled with monsters out for your flesh. It’s much wiser to stay here were you are safe and cared for.” He smiled grimly at her. Any reply she could give him was halted by the spell. With a flick of his wrist she was walking toward him, then walking to the door she heard the voices from earlier. Lalir sat at his desk, the tips of his finger touching looking truly upset. When she walked in he immediately set on her, hitting her hard across the face with the back of his hand. She tasted blood but had no way to retaliate except to pour as much hatred into her eyes as she could.

“Don’t ever do that again. I’m sorry, Telirra but you must be punished for that. I don’t believe in physical punishment, but something must be done to dissuade you from attempting to escape again. Orin, do what you will, but don’t physically hurt her. I think some…mental exercises will suffice.” Her father turned her back on her and the smile she saw spread across Orin’s face sent shivers down her spine. Orin led her from her fathers study back into her cell. After her chains were back in place he had her sit and released the hold on her mind. Telirra immediately pulled as far away from him as possible, the gleam in his eyes caused her stomach to twist in knots. The sudden realization that her nightmares weren’t coincidence hit her like a ton of bricks.

“Well then, lets’ begin shall we.” She felt him delve into her mind and then she started to scream.

Hasa spoke up before Brae could so much as react. "Well, ya said she was lookin' real worn downs. Betcha she got a spot ta hole up in fo' occasions like dis. Sure she'll be in touch wit' ya both' soon." Brae got a look that brooked no argument, the troll's arms crossed. Brae's nostrils flared as she just nodded and spun on her heel into her office, the door clicking shut behind her.

The troll turned the same gaze on iceia after glancing at he note. "Sleepin' potions, huh?" She squinted at him. "Loa, wish I knew what ya looked so familiar-like. But dat's da least of our worries. Loa help you if you worried dat girl in her current state, an' even more if ya put ideas in her head ' 'bout looking." She snorted faintly. Elves were never anything but trouble.

"I t'ink it might be best if ya tells ol' Hasa everyt'ing,, an' see what we can't do." She settled in to listen to iceia, clearly not expecting any response but what she had requested.

((posted on behalf of Iceia))

Iceia nods, "Well, as to me looking familiar, this isn't the first time we've met. As to the matter at hand, a dear, close friend of mine has been having horrible nightmares, and it's been waking us both in the middle of the night. She refuses to have anything to do with magic, and I recall you treating a... past associate of ours for a similar issue. You're the best, for lack of a better word, apothecary I've ever met. I'm quite willing to pay for your services, and the fact that we've met here is just a sign from the Light, Loa, and whatever else out there that guides us that you would be perfect for this."

Orin had worked on her for what seemed like years but he never actually touched her, she had almost wished he would. Physical torture was something she could understand, the physical pain was real and she could see it, the things he did in her mind…her soul felt like it had been flayed and laid out for the world to see. After he left her she crawled onto the bed and let herself cry, she had screamed the entire time he was in her head but she never cried, never begged for him to stop, at least as far as she could remember. There were long blank periods where she thinks she blacked out but it could have been part of the torture as well. Telirra wanted to curl in on herself and forget the things he had done to her mind, her hands were trembling and she felt her heart beating as if to escape from her chest. She curled up on her side hugging her knees to her chest and cried herself into a fitful sleep. When she woke everything hurt, her head felt like it was going to crack open, all her muscled had seized up and breathing felt like there was knives going through ever inch of her. The servants came and went with her food but she couldn’t muster the energy to get up and feed herself, instead she curled on her side and let herself sleep, praying that she didn’t dream, she didn’t want to know what she would dream after Orin had been in her head. After the servants brought her dinner her father came into the room, she was too tired to care or even fight him. The man who called himself her father say on her bed and stroked her hair, muttering soothing words under his breath, calling her Vylana the entire time.

Telirra must have dozed off because her eyes shot open and she sat up in bed shaking, totally alone. She had been dreaming…something about Iceia, but the dream was gone before she could get a grasp on it. Her stomach gave a loud grumble and she moved from her bed on shaky weak legs to the tray of food by the door. Simple soup with some bread and water, she wolfed it down then wobbled back to the bed and sat there. Rage started to set in, to fill her every being, rage against her father, against herself and against everything that Orin was. She wanted to kill him, she wanted to watch him die slowly from the poison on her blade, she hadn’t felt this much rage towards another being in a very long time. Not even Trenetir was able to stir this much rage in her, he was annoying and frustrated her beyond belief but she didn’t have the mind numbing hatred for him that his Elf ‘Priest’ caused her.
Her father didn’t come to visit her for five meals, when he did visit he just say and talked at her. After he started to talk about her brother she started to tune him out, thinking about all the paperwork she was going to have to catch up on when she got back to the office.

“Telirra, are you listening to me?” His voice sounded frustrated. Her face blank, she turned to him and blinked.

“What was that?” The look behind his eyes caused a stone to drop in her stomach. He stood and swept from the room, only to return moments later Orin in tow. Telirra immediately scooted away from him as far away as possible, her eye filled with fear and her heart jumping in her chest.

“Orin, my daughter needs to be punished, see to it.” Her father didn’t leave the room this time, he decided to stay and watch. Compared to the last time Orin entered her mind this session of torment didn’t last very long. Whether it was because Telirra was becoming used to the torture or her father put a stop to it before Orin got carried away was a mystery to her. Both elves left her to her misery; she had somehow ended up on the floor. Not bothering to crawl back up on the bed Telirra curled herself into a fetal position and started to do something she hadn’t done in many years, she started to pray.

Telirra had started to count the number of meals to keep track of how long she had been a captive. She assumed that they fed her three times a day which meant she had been gone for six or seven days based on the number of meals she could remember consuming. They must be looking for me by now…she kept the thought alive in her mind even though her father kept reminding her that they wouldn’t come looking for her. He never explained why they wouldn’t look for her, just left the suggestion that they didn’t care enough to look for her. The first few times he said it she scoffed at him, Iceia and Brae loved her, they were her family and they would never abandon her to her monster of a father. By the fifth day her confidence in her knowledge of them started to wane, not enough for her loose hope entirely but she did start to question. The way Iceia had reacted after he exposed their relationship for everyone at Lounge to hear, the way Brae acted around her now that she had Yoresh back…Telirra pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind and focused on thinking of ways to escape. The rogue had tried two other times after the first failed attempt; the second time she tried she managed to get passed the ward only to find herself in completely unfamiliar territory. The sky had purple hue with an arc of light stretched from horizon to horizon. The air felt…dead, as if it had stopped giving life like there was no oxygen in it even though breathing wasn’t a problem. Telirra thought she saw a large palace floating in the distance but she had no idea what it would be. The change in atmosphere struck her enough that she didn’t notice the guards coming up behind her until they had their arms around her. What Orin had done to her was nothing compared to the third time she tried to escape.

The third time she tried to escape she managed to make it to the end of an island floating in the endless nether. Her father was the one to come and find her to gloat.

“I told you, no matter how many times there is no escape unless you jump to your death,” the grin on his face filled her with rage and she threw herself at him. Before she was able to land a blow her body stopped responding again. Orin was close behind her father and smiling at in her the way that made her blood run cold. Her father just shook his head at her and waved his hand at Orin.

“Heal anything you break after you’re done.” Usually the smiles Orin gave her was solemn, his eyes never really behind it unless he was in her mind. Now he grinned and Telirra couldn’t help but try to shrink away from him. Telirra thought she saw a flicker of Shadow behind his eyes when he came at her. He flavored his usual mental onslaught with the physical pain that the Shadows caused normal races. Telirra prayed for darkness, to black out and not remember anything but Orin didn’t give her that luxury. Every laceration in her mind and on her body ripped a new kind of scream from her throat until she tore her vocal chords and had no more sound to give. Afterward, Orin made sure her physical injuries were all healed, the broken wrist, and the deep cuts that spread all over her body. With what little sanity she had left she knew there would be no scars from his ministrations, her body was left exactly as he had found it. The same scars she had before she was taken still covered her body but nothing new would mar her pale skin. Only the marks the Elementium shackles left on her wrists were new and left unhealed.

Orin carried her back to her father’s stronghold underground, she was too weak to fight him she just laid there and looked up at the sky, trying to figure out why the arc of light was familiar to her.

Good story so far, I like your writing style.