Post by Asinity on Jan 5, 2018 22:43:24 GMT
In a damp cell at the top of an old stone tower, an aging, dark haired man peered out of a barred arrowslit. He was at least three stories above the island floor, if it could even be called that. The man could throw a stone in any direction and reach the seas as they slammed against the small bit of dirt and rock. On the horizon was the same view he'd seen for the past year and a half; an overcast sky, and an empty sea. Occasionally a vessel of some kind appeared far out into the blue, but nowhere near close enough for the man to hope beyond hope that they would hear him shout.
Living had become miserable. The one pirate - if he could be called that - came to the tower every other day to feed the aging man, but nothing else. He'd tried to converse with the pirate on several occasions, but had come up with nothing more than an agitated grunt, or a curse of some kind. To pass the time, the dark-haired man plotted. He formed ideas of how to escape, and what he would do with the freedom that followed. So far he'd been able to do little more than count the days since his arrival at the tower, and pray that one day the pirate would show some kind of weakness. Even with the promise of money or a knighthood, the pirate had thus far taken no bribe of any kind. The situation was bleak.
This was how Velizar Vyre had lived since his capture two years ago. Like a common criminal in a cold, wet dungeon. No bed, no books, no Sofjia...
His heart ached to feel her again. To have the power he once had. Days passed where he'd cursed himself by making such a fool errand to the Salkan Isles. Artis sink them all for their incompetence. Not one vessel had come to his aid off of the western coast when the pirates had attacked. Velizar had been the only survivor, and he gauged that it was only due to who he was, that he still lived. The pirate captain had recognized him then, but whatever his plans were for the King of Luska...he had made nothing known. He'd thrown him in this Artis-forsaken tower, and left him to rot.
He was as a child in the forest on a moonless night. No sense of direction, no hope, and nothing but a prayer for liberation could save him.
And so we wait. For retribution. For vengeance. Send me a Champion, Artis, and I will convert every damn Salkan by the sword if I must.
Living had become miserable. The one pirate - if he could be called that - came to the tower every other day to feed the aging man, but nothing else. He'd tried to converse with the pirate on several occasions, but had come up with nothing more than an agitated grunt, or a curse of some kind. To pass the time, the dark-haired man plotted. He formed ideas of how to escape, and what he would do with the freedom that followed. So far he'd been able to do little more than count the days since his arrival at the tower, and pray that one day the pirate would show some kind of weakness. Even with the promise of money or a knighthood, the pirate had thus far taken no bribe of any kind. The situation was bleak.
This was how Velizar Vyre had lived since his capture two years ago. Like a common criminal in a cold, wet dungeon. No bed, no books, no Sofjia...
His heart ached to feel her again. To have the power he once had. Days passed where he'd cursed himself by making such a fool errand to the Salkan Isles. Artis sink them all for their incompetence. Not one vessel had come to his aid off of the western coast when the pirates had attacked. Velizar had been the only survivor, and he gauged that it was only due to who he was, that he still lived. The pirate captain had recognized him then, but whatever his plans were for the King of Luska...he had made nothing known. He'd thrown him in this Artis-forsaken tower, and left him to rot.
He was as a child in the forest on a moonless night. No sense of direction, no hope, and nothing but a prayer for liberation could save him.
And so we wait. For retribution. For vengeance. Send me a Champion, Artis, and I will convert every damn Salkan by the sword if I must.