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Dragonflight Pern Captain
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 Posted: Wed May 29, 2013 12:13 pm
Captured Dragonriders are being held deep within Benden, away from the sun and sky in small, rough hewn cells lining a gladatorial ring. This area is already infamous for being the bloodiest and most brutal duelling ring in the Wherhold where Whers and Human fight for violence's sake.
The cavern is large enough for two brown dragons to stand side by side, and is dimly lit, throwing long shadows in every direction. The seats lining the walls indicate it was once a meeting place where now it's a fight club.
Prisoners are stripped to basic undergarments and relieved of their undergarments. Wall sconces are placed between cells, out of reach, and the locks are too intricate to pick without the right supplies. A chalkboard sits in plain sight with brackets drawn up in white lines and cursive scrawl - the names of the Prisoners are matched against warrior pairs. They are forced to wait for their turn for interrogation and then death by combat.
Flits are not allowed in the area and all individuals are authorized to kill them on sight.
Guards are posted, along with their accompanying whers to keep a look out but there is little worry of intrusion so deep in the mountain.
This an ORP for the Captured Dragonriders and Wherhandlers. Any violence will not be tolerated and fights immediately broken up. Dragonriders cannot leave their cell.
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Posted: Thu May 30, 2013 11:04 am
Well..this was not exactly how D'lin had envisioned he would end up but he was determined to keep his head and not let the situation get to him. If he did..there there really would be no hope.
Not that hope was in large supply regardless. He'd not fought the handlers as they transferred him...having seen the pointlessness of attempting escape and preferring to save his strength for the moment..just in case a chance for that elusive escape presented itself. Despite his lack of trouble however the handlers had not been..gentle in their treatment. His wrists were raw and bleeding from the rope they had used to bind him and more then one bruise gave evidence of a blow dealt in passing.
Still he had kept from crying out, or giving in to fear or otherwise visibly falling apart and he supposed that was a small victory..no matter then he was being gnawed apart on the inside. At least they had cells.small and uncomfortable as they were it could have been worse...though the chalkboard with its clear notice of impending doom promised that it soon would be. Sighing he peered into the torch-lit hallway and comforted himself with the distant but still there touch of his bronze.
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Posted: Thu May 30, 2013 11:30 am
Once she came to, Rochelle fought. She kicked and screamed, lashed out at the captors, and even bit one on the hand so hard she tasted blood. It earned her a bruised cheekbone, marks on her from when they'd restrained her, and half of her hair shorn to the ears by a stray knife - all along with the pounding headache and taste of vomit and blood in her mouth.
She sat in the corner of her cell, fuming, dark blue eyes narrowed in on the bars. Fury burned at her chest alongside the pain, smal fingers curled tight together until knuckles turned to white. Kibeths anger and fear only fueled her further. When Rochelle yelled out, it was with a voice hoarse from screaming.
"To between with you whertumbling forksniffers! Shaff this and all of you!" Yelling did no good but it sure made her feel better. Some. "Come in here and I'll rip off your traitorous face with my teeth."
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Posted: Thu May 30, 2013 1:32 pm
The arrival of Rochelle brought D'lin out of his silent solemn staring. She was quite upset - and understandably so considering their circumstances, though beyond her yelling he couldn't really see her and thusly couldn't tell if she was wounded. She sounded angry..but strong and that had mean she wasn't too bad off right? He hoped so.
"Rochelle?" He called out, he didn't know her personally, but he made the effort to at least know the names of the up and coming riders. "It's D'lin...are you wounded?" He called out once the handlers had scorned her taunting and left them with well..not privacy but at least a bit of space.
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Posted: Fri May 31, 2013 9:49 pm
V'lay was cowed.
No, more than cowed. V'lay was afraid.
He had been injured badly in the combat with the wherholders, and while he was glad that some had escaped, the fact remained that he was stripped, alone, barely able to reach his dragon and suffering from what felt like at least one broken rib and a half-dislocated shoulder. The brackets had done nothing to help, and the bluerider sat, hair half-singed and hanging around his face in a ragged, disheveled mess, and stared at it. Fury and disgust and shame twisted into a thick knot in his chest,one that only pulled tighter every time he looked around. He was going to die here. This was going to be the end of it.
At least someone younger had escaped. C'ross and his tiny dragon - they had gotten away. But the young man who had tried to bandage him - V'lay had gotten him captured. Barely more than a kid, and V'lay was responsible for his death. This was not how he had planned it.
He could still feel Vinath in his head, but the dragon was half-incoherent with fear and worry, and the few words V'lay did manage to catch from him were only desperate confusion, the sounds of an animal who wanted nothing more than to be back with his bondmate. There was anger there, as well, but Vinath had never been the type inclined to fury. He postured, he didn't fight, and he could do nothing with his rider taken. At least V'lay was conscious. He didn't relish the idea of what would have happened if he had blacked out.
His head pounded, and the screeching girl wasn't helping things. Taking a ragged breath, the former Benden rider lifted his head and barked a harsh sound that might have been a laugh. "Getting hysterical's not going to help anything, girl."
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Posted: Tue Jun 04, 2013 3:43 pm
Rochelle fell silent when a semi-familiar voice called out over the disgusting walls of the cells. Her fists clenched and relaxed every few seconds in an attempt to keep herself from screaming more and responding with something horrible to a person who, for now, had become an ally. She didn't quite know him from Adam but he was a loyal Trine rider to the best of her knowledge.
"Of course I'm wounded," she snapped with more force than intended. "Crack on my skull, been puking so that's not a good shaffing sign. Face is swelled, ******** cut my hair, and I'm pretty sure they rattled me around just to be crackdusted Holdless ******** voice rose with the last part, aimed at the guards outside, and bit off before she could say anything worse. Finally, with a deep breath, she said, slowly, "Are you? --And shut your face, no one's hysterical, I'm pissed."
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"You're loud," Siata groaned from her own little piece of hell. The wherhandler curled in on herself, bruised and in pain. Siask raged in her head - muzzled Siask, tethered to keep from killing everyone in his desperate anger - and Rochelle kept raising her voice. Siata buried her face in her hands, mindful of the sting at her chest of the bandages wrapped tight there.
Traitor bronzehandler, they said. Didn't deserve the medical but they wanted her to be well enough to be - to be... Her chest hurt. Parts of it had been torn open by a whers claws, some would have to be taken off if they returned to Trine. Siata tried to bury the fear deep in her heart but it burned with every thought, coated her tongue with bitter regret. She'd family back at Trine, they'd worry. And friends. Kleos - Kleos.
"They'll come for us," the wherhandler said in a hollow tone. "They have to come for us. They can't just leave us here."
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