Post by TOBIAS KINGSLEY on Jan 20, 2011 0:02:30 GMT -6
"You're nev'r get'n out'a here, y'worm. That las' run was a good'n, but'chya ain't 'spose'ta git oudda da forest! Shit, had I any slow'r a mount, y'mighta made it!"
The guard's repulsive accent cut Tobias' ears like a knife's edge, every pitifully formed syllable a constant reminder that he was this fool's plaything every time one of the "games" was called. Every time Tobi's "master" was bored enough, he'd "release" a few of the slaves and have them all run through 6 square miles of forest on the noble's land.
Tobias was the only runner to ever make it further than 5 miles, and the only one to last longer than an hour, but as often as he achieved both feats, the horseback patrol deployed specially for the games was always to quick to run past, and too numerous (in too open a spot) to sneak past.
A few hours ago, he had managed to break the patrol line, and as impressive as the feat was, the noble was surprisingly receptive to the idea of rewarding him for it. Unfortunately, the noble's idea of "reward" was torturous indoctrination.
Tobias was in a dimly lit cobblestone room with nothing other than one chair and a poorly made wooden table. The chair was behind him, against the wall, as Tobias refused to sit down for what was happening next.
There were three guards on the other side of the table, each with sword in sheathe. The one on Tobias' right was holding his manacles down to the table, and the guard was large enough to ensure his job was done right. The taunting drivel had come from the middle guard, who was at the moment armed with a herd brand, one he was poised to use on Tobi's hand. The one on the left was unfamiliar and young. Likely a new recruit, just here to see how things worked in this hellhole.
The middle guard raised his brand high, intending to bring it down with enough force to crush Tobi's hand, hoping to send the mark straight down to the bone. In that instant, Tobi's left foot went backwards, catching the chair behind him and launching his right leg circling up high over his head to land on the right guard's shoulder left, the left leg following the motion of the first to land on the other shoulder.
Had the guard simply held Tobias' wrists down, the worst he would've come out of this with was a heel print in the face, as the bending motion would've been a bit much even for Tobi's spine, but unfortunately for him his first reaction was to bring his hands up to Tobi's legs to soften the blow, allowing Tobi to bring his upper body up to follow the loop, and bring his manacles crashing down on the guard's face.
The middle guard had seen Tobias' fury unleashed plenty of times to know that he and the rookie had very little time and very little chance of winning this fight. He honestly hadn't thought the slave was crazy enough to try an escape. All the same, he knew full well that he had to get help, and that the solid wooden door would block the sound far too well for his screams to get him help in time. After all, that's what it was designed for. He turned and made his way for the door, but it was already too late.
In almost the same moment Tobias' feet had touched the floor on the other side of the falling guard's head, they were propelling him towards the door on the far side of the wall on his right. Tobias jumped off his left foot, his right catching the wall then spinning off of it to allow his shin to catch the middle guard's face solidly enough to sweep him back off his feet. Simultaneously, Tobi's hands grabbed the middle of the brand and wrested it from the guard's hands.
By this time, the bumbling newbie had done little more than watch the past four seconds in amazement as he awkwardly unsheathed his sword and brought it to his hip in a defensive stance. Tobias threw the brand overhead at the last standing guard, causing it to swing vertically at him. The boy was quick enough to move to the right, dodging the brand at even this short distance, but he followed the movement of the weapon with his whole head, tracking it all the way 'till Tobias was momentarily out of his line of sight.
This moment was all Tobi needed, sprinting forward at the guard with his hands forward. By the time the guard's head was back to Tobi, he had time enough to ready himself to block, but not to stop the charge all together. Tobi spread his hands as wide as he could, catching the blade with the chains of his manacles. He pushed the blade back against the guard, but the guard knew enough to tilt it to his side, causing it to slice into his shoulder instead of his face.
The momentum, however, carried them both into the corner, and Tobi's knee immediately followed into the guard's kidney. Unfortunately for Tobi, enough time had now passed for the adrenaline to have kicked in for the boy, and he didn't slow so easily. Tobi shot off another two knees in quick succession before the guard gave up the attempt to push him back with the sword, his hands moving down to defend from the attack. This was the last mistake the boy would ever make.
Tobi's next knee went for the pommel of the falling blade instead of the guard's newly defended midsection, sending it straight into the underside of the guard's head and right through the top, leaving it stuck in its gruesome position.
From behind him he heard a grumble, and he turned around to see the middle guard getting back up. Tobi rushed back to him, and jumped up at him. The guard reflexively lifted a knee both to block any lower body attacks and to stop the momentum, but he misread Tobi.
Tobias placed his right foot on the guard's lifted leg, and his left foot on the guard's chest, dropping his chain down just below the guard's chin and carrying his body up over the guard's. Upon hitting the ground on the other side, he leaned forward, lifted one leg behind him, and yanked as hard as he could on the chain, sending the guard into the wall behind him, upside down.
Before the guard would have a chance to drop, Tobi followed up the motion by bringing both his fists into the guard's lower spine, shattering it even behind the shoddy chainmail and padding, causing the calloused flesh on Tobi's knuckles to tear open.
He wasted no time in finishing his work with the middle guard's blade, taking only one deep breath before opening the door, sword in hand.
As that door opened, Tobi silently walked back into consciousness, his eyes wide open and his breathing regular. The "mattress" at his back slowly reminded him of his surroundings, the sound of a rat scurrying in some invisible corner reminding him of the aptly-named tavern he was in.
That's right, he had stolen the money for this room, for his food, and even for a few drinks. His upper body was thoroughly wrapped in cloth, the ends of which had been sewn together by a kind peasant who identified with the loss the man had felt. It was relatively comfortable and warm, and even vaguely inconspicuous, but nothing could be done about his wrists.
He couldn't stay here long. He had to get moving, or too many questions would be asked, and talk would eventually have the noble back on his track. He warily rose from the bed, still fully dressed. He looked at his dismal surroundings and couldn't help but crack a silent smile.
It wasn't so much the room itself he was smiling at. Floorboards were missing, there was some unknown rot on the wall, and it smelled vaguely of both death and vomit, but it wasn't a cell.
Whatever this room was, it wasn't a cell. He was as physically bound as ever, but for the last few months he had been where he had chosen to be. For the second period in his life, he was free.
The guard's repulsive accent cut Tobias' ears like a knife's edge, every pitifully formed syllable a constant reminder that he was this fool's plaything every time one of the "games" was called. Every time Tobi's "master" was bored enough, he'd "release" a few of the slaves and have them all run through 6 square miles of forest on the noble's land.
Tobias was the only runner to ever make it further than 5 miles, and the only one to last longer than an hour, but as often as he achieved both feats, the horseback patrol deployed specially for the games was always to quick to run past, and too numerous (in too open a spot) to sneak past.
A few hours ago, he had managed to break the patrol line, and as impressive as the feat was, the noble was surprisingly receptive to the idea of rewarding him for it. Unfortunately, the noble's idea of "reward" was torturous indoctrination.
Tobias was in a dimly lit cobblestone room with nothing other than one chair and a poorly made wooden table. The chair was behind him, against the wall, as Tobias refused to sit down for what was happening next.
There were three guards on the other side of the table, each with sword in sheathe. The one on Tobias' right was holding his manacles down to the table, and the guard was large enough to ensure his job was done right. The taunting drivel had come from the middle guard, who was at the moment armed with a herd brand, one he was poised to use on Tobi's hand. The one on the left was unfamiliar and young. Likely a new recruit, just here to see how things worked in this hellhole.
The middle guard raised his brand high, intending to bring it down with enough force to crush Tobi's hand, hoping to send the mark straight down to the bone. In that instant, Tobi's left foot went backwards, catching the chair behind him and launching his right leg circling up high over his head to land on the right guard's shoulder left, the left leg following the motion of the first to land on the other shoulder.
Had the guard simply held Tobias' wrists down, the worst he would've come out of this with was a heel print in the face, as the bending motion would've been a bit much even for Tobi's spine, but unfortunately for him his first reaction was to bring his hands up to Tobi's legs to soften the blow, allowing Tobi to bring his upper body up to follow the loop, and bring his manacles crashing down on the guard's face.
The middle guard had seen Tobias' fury unleashed plenty of times to know that he and the rookie had very little time and very little chance of winning this fight. He honestly hadn't thought the slave was crazy enough to try an escape. All the same, he knew full well that he had to get help, and that the solid wooden door would block the sound far too well for his screams to get him help in time. After all, that's what it was designed for. He turned and made his way for the door, but it was already too late.
In almost the same moment Tobias' feet had touched the floor on the other side of the falling guard's head, they were propelling him towards the door on the far side of the wall on his right. Tobias jumped off his left foot, his right catching the wall then spinning off of it to allow his shin to catch the middle guard's face solidly enough to sweep him back off his feet. Simultaneously, Tobi's hands grabbed the middle of the brand and wrested it from the guard's hands.
By this time, the bumbling newbie had done little more than watch the past four seconds in amazement as he awkwardly unsheathed his sword and brought it to his hip in a defensive stance. Tobias threw the brand overhead at the last standing guard, causing it to swing vertically at him. The boy was quick enough to move to the right, dodging the brand at even this short distance, but he followed the movement of the weapon with his whole head, tracking it all the way 'till Tobias was momentarily out of his line of sight.
This moment was all Tobi needed, sprinting forward at the guard with his hands forward. By the time the guard's head was back to Tobi, he had time enough to ready himself to block, but not to stop the charge all together. Tobi spread his hands as wide as he could, catching the blade with the chains of his manacles. He pushed the blade back against the guard, but the guard knew enough to tilt it to his side, causing it to slice into his shoulder instead of his face.
The momentum, however, carried them both into the corner, and Tobi's knee immediately followed into the guard's kidney. Unfortunately for Tobi, enough time had now passed for the adrenaline to have kicked in for the boy, and he didn't slow so easily. Tobi shot off another two knees in quick succession before the guard gave up the attempt to push him back with the sword, his hands moving down to defend from the attack. This was the last mistake the boy would ever make.
Tobi's next knee went for the pommel of the falling blade instead of the guard's newly defended midsection, sending it straight into the underside of the guard's head and right through the top, leaving it stuck in its gruesome position.
From behind him he heard a grumble, and he turned around to see the middle guard getting back up. Tobi rushed back to him, and jumped up at him. The guard reflexively lifted a knee both to block any lower body attacks and to stop the momentum, but he misread Tobi.
Tobias placed his right foot on the guard's lifted leg, and his left foot on the guard's chest, dropping his chain down just below the guard's chin and carrying his body up over the guard's. Upon hitting the ground on the other side, he leaned forward, lifted one leg behind him, and yanked as hard as he could on the chain, sending the guard into the wall behind him, upside down.
Before the guard would have a chance to drop, Tobi followed up the motion by bringing both his fists into the guard's lower spine, shattering it even behind the shoddy chainmail and padding, causing the calloused flesh on Tobi's knuckles to tear open.
He wasted no time in finishing his work with the middle guard's blade, taking only one deep breath before opening the door, sword in hand.
-
As that door opened, Tobi silently walked back into consciousness, his eyes wide open and his breathing regular. The "mattress" at his back slowly reminded him of his surroundings, the sound of a rat scurrying in some invisible corner reminding him of the aptly-named tavern he was in.
That's right, he had stolen the money for this room, for his food, and even for a few drinks. His upper body was thoroughly wrapped in cloth, the ends of which had been sewn together by a kind peasant who identified with the loss the man had felt. It was relatively comfortable and warm, and even vaguely inconspicuous, but nothing could be done about his wrists.
He couldn't stay here long. He had to get moving, or too many questions would be asked, and talk would eventually have the noble back on his track. He warily rose from the bed, still fully dressed. He looked at his dismal surroundings and couldn't help but crack a silent smile.
It wasn't so much the room itself he was smiling at. Floorboards were missing, there was some unknown rot on the wall, and it smelled vaguely of both death and vomit, but it wasn't a cell.
Whatever this room was, it wasn't a cell. He was as physically bound as ever, but for the last few months he had been where he had chosen to be. For the second period in his life, he was free.