No man should ever have to endure so much pain.
Alas, the one who was doing just that was the city's scourging demon mage, Ichabod, who had become desperate enough to drag himself with his hands. The nails on his fingers were breaking, the skin on the joints was contracting, and all of his clothing had been essentially torn to shreds. A long trail of a ruby red hue could be traced for almost two blocks back, in which the snow had the bodily imprint of our demon mage collapsing to the ground. How could all of this happen? All we wanted was to bring back the glory of the elves and prove that he was a good man.
It all came so quickly. He had escaped his cell, leaving little more evidence than a path of mysteriously unlocked doors and untied chains along the way. There didn't seem to be anything directly pointing toward a person in particular, but rumours might stem from interviewed slum-folk that Ichabod had publicly used a key to free himself from broken shackles that once belonged to soldiers only days before his brief imprisonment. While he did escape to the slums, his moment of enjoyment was shattered by the telltale jingling of Bluesteel boots belonging to none other than Kaya, the one who had shot him with a crossbow bolt for posterity's sake, and Benjamin, the battle bard who had entertained the thought of interrogating Ichabod through civil conversation (though not without the grip of his sword in hand).
He managed to flee from them without much resistance, given that people were either too shocked to see him free or were too busy trying to rouse an organized rebellion against the incoming government forces. Ichabod did not really manage to stick around to see what happened, retreating to the tunnels below with a corrupt Maiar companion at his side. Unfortunately, his telltale trail of dragging robes and a sporadic drip of blood lead many vigilantes to his position. He fought valiantly but was almost captured once more by a Witchblood and the vigilantes. Escape was only possible due to the great ferocity of his Maiar in protecting his friend and the stabbing of the Witchblood through the use of a shiv created by a Wolathar made less than two days before for emergencies.
Now, he was disarmed, lost, and suffering from major wounds that were unable to be sealed. It wasn't supposed to be this way. He wasn't supposed to be pushed over so easily by everyone else. Ichabod wasn't supposed to be tortured like this. He was promised that if he fought back, his one hundred years of pain would end, but it didn't. The old archmage was unable to keep himself from toppling down the brick stairs belonging to a sewer base beneath the city, landing with a meaty thud against the cold, unforgiving stone. Only the sound of him wailing in pain called the attention of Anise the Shendar, forcing her to rush to his aid to bring him to the warmth and medical care. As the bandages were being applied, the demon mage began to weep like a child as the one thing that was so hard to damage was finally broken: his heart. Blood-loss and exhaustion stemming from several days with minimal sleep and tight conditions finally caught up with him, luring Ichabod into a deep sleep. In the hopes that death had, at last, come to embrace him, the mage passed out. Perhaps his pain would finally end.
Rather than having his agony stop, he was faced with a hellish nightmare beyond any human comprehension that he had only brought upon himself.
@JarrettdaCarrot @DrunkFailure @DeltaInsomnia @ElderShrub @Suzzie @AtticCat @Sozzer @Pastellanar @katiesc @DolittleGuy @Gartono @skullpanda90 @NathanPlayzMC_14 , to name a few of the endless names that were present!
Alas, the one who was doing just that was the city's scourging demon mage, Ichabod, who had become desperate enough to drag himself with his hands. The nails on his fingers were breaking, the skin on the joints was contracting, and all of his clothing had been essentially torn to shreds. A long trail of a ruby red hue could be traced for almost two blocks back, in which the snow had the bodily imprint of our demon mage collapsing to the ground. How could all of this happen? All we wanted was to bring back the glory of the elves and prove that he was a good man.
It all came so quickly. He had escaped his cell, leaving little more evidence than a path of mysteriously unlocked doors and untied chains along the way. There didn't seem to be anything directly pointing toward a person in particular, but rumours might stem from interviewed slum-folk that Ichabod had publicly used a key to free himself from broken shackles that once belonged to soldiers only days before his brief imprisonment. While he did escape to the slums, his moment of enjoyment was shattered by the telltale jingling of Bluesteel boots belonging to none other than Kaya, the one who had shot him with a crossbow bolt for posterity's sake, and Benjamin, the battle bard who had entertained the thought of interrogating Ichabod through civil conversation (though not without the grip of his sword in hand).
He managed to flee from them without much resistance, given that people were either too shocked to see him free or were too busy trying to rouse an organized rebellion against the incoming government forces. Ichabod did not really manage to stick around to see what happened, retreating to the tunnels below with a corrupt Maiar companion at his side. Unfortunately, his telltale trail of dragging robes and a sporadic drip of blood lead many vigilantes to his position. He fought valiantly but was almost captured once more by a Witchblood and the vigilantes. Escape was only possible due to the great ferocity of his Maiar in protecting his friend and the stabbing of the Witchblood through the use of a shiv created by a Wolathar made less than two days before for emergencies.
Now, he was disarmed, lost, and suffering from major wounds that were unable to be sealed. It wasn't supposed to be this way. He wasn't supposed to be pushed over so easily by everyone else. Ichabod wasn't supposed to be tortured like this. He was promised that if he fought back, his one hundred years of pain would end, but it didn't. The old archmage was unable to keep himself from toppling down the brick stairs belonging to a sewer base beneath the city, landing with a meaty thud against the cold, unforgiving stone. Only the sound of him wailing in pain called the attention of Anise the Shendar, forcing her to rush to his aid to bring him to the warmth and medical care. As the bandages were being applied, the demon mage began to weep like a child as the one thing that was so hard to damage was finally broken: his heart. Blood-loss and exhaustion stemming from several days with minimal sleep and tight conditions finally caught up with him, luring Ichabod into a deep sleep. In the hopes that death had, at last, come to embrace him, the mage passed out. Perhaps his pain would finally end.
Rather than having his agony stop, he was faced with a hellish nightmare beyond any human comprehension that he had only brought upon himself.
@JarrettdaCarrot @DrunkFailure @DeltaInsomnia @ElderShrub @Suzzie @AtticCat @Sozzer @Pastellanar @katiesc @DolittleGuy @Gartono @skullpanda90 @NathanPlayzMC_14 , to name a few of the endless names that were present!
