MysidiaDrakkenbane

Mysidia sat alone in her cell. The Citadel was eerily quiet. She didn’t hear the pacing of the guards or the distant chatter from various other chambers. The world was still; she was sure it was night.

She had begun to make a crude altar in the days she had been removed and placed to and from her cell. Drin-Sha still made her fight in the arena at least twice a week. This week, it had been considerably less. And almost as if magic itself protected her soul, she always managed to just make it out alive.

Her arms and legs were brilliantly colored now. She had sat through painstaking hours of tattoo after tattoo that Drus had given her. He had never seen someone so adorned before, save the Barbarians. Each one meant something to her. Each curve, every shade, spoke a pictorial prayer. She remembered the woad markings her people used to carry into battle. Some were elaborate, some were discreet. Her mother used to have a beautiful phoenix along her back.

She remembered asking her mother about it and why she chose the phoenix. Her mother took Mysidia’s child face into her hands and gave her a soft kiss on her forehead. “The Phoenix is the familiar of the Royal family, Mysidia. He protects all of us and one day, He will protect you.”

The last tattoo Drus put on her was an intricate Phoenix along her back and spine. The head of the bird looked up, as if to cry to the heavens. His wings wrapped around her shoulders and his fiery wing tips delicately traced down her arms towards her wrists. Trails of fire cascaded down her back and his tail ended just before her tailbone.

“Why on earth would ye want somethin’ that big, lass?”, Drus asked confused.

“It was a promise from my mother.”, came her reply.

“This will take some time.”, Drus commented.

“That’s all I have in here.”, she muttered quietly.

As the days grew, Mysidia became more and more withdrawn into herself. The friends that she managed to make while in the Citadel would end up dead the day after. The only friend that seemed to persevere as she did, was Drus.

Drus knew the warning signs. Her hope was fading. The more her hope faded, the more intricate the designs were for her tattoos. He decided to keep an extra eye on her.

Mysidia prayed that night. It had been a great while since she had prayed to her goddess, Tunare. Since Mysidia found out that the gods abandoned Norrath, Mysidia began to question her faith very seriously. Tunare had abandoned her race and now, the land. Mysidia remembered the ceremonies and prayers by heart, and tried to do her best with what little she had.

She sprinkled dust from the earth around her crudely made altar and placed her hands together in prayer.

“Great Mother, I am in need of your guidance. I am so desperate for a shred of hope…”, Mysidia began. She could feel the lump well up in her throat. She swallowed hard and continued.

“I don’t think I will make it out alive. I feel my life’s cycle coming to a close, here. I… I have failed you, Great Mother. I wasn’t able to complete the prophecy, Your Task…”, Mysidia stopped, feeling the tears fall down her face.

“If I am to have a choice of how I die here, let me do it fighting. Please don’t let me waste away caged… Please.”, she begged. She laid her head gently on her crude pallet and closed her eyes.

She was brashly awoken early in the morning by rough hands pulling her up to her feet and shoved into the hallway. She barely had enough time to wipe the sleep from her eyes before being dragged down towards the arena slave pens.

“Here, put these on.”, an orc barked at her. Disheveled, she put the leather armor on her body and stumbled out into the middle of the arena. She was confused. It wasn’t uncommon to fight like this unscheduled, but this early in the morning was unheard of. They usually put her to work in the Citadel first before fighting her.

She looked around her and grew even more confused when she had seen there were no other orcs around to watch the match. Standing by the large thrones were the Dark Elf she had seen earlier, Drin-Sha, and a more elaborately decorated Orc. She surmised it was the Emperor.

“The Emperor was impressed to hear of your latest victories, Rydian. So much so that he has requested a private showing of your talents.”, Drin-Sha said. Were her eyes deceiving her or was there a glint of fear in Drin’Sha’s voice? Seeing that Mysidia was his ticket out of the Citadel, it shouldn’t have surprised her.

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend…”

Hours before, the Tier’Dal had gone to Drin-Sha with the proposal of an early morning battle. Since the meeting with Akahsha, Val’eth’s urgency to have Mysidia killed had skyrocketed. If Akahsha was going to finish her job, and she would, he would have had to pay her and hand her over the proper paperwork to clear her name. If Val’eth simply had Mysidia killed on his own, none of this would have to have taken place and he could walk out slightly richer and more in favor of the Overlord. Either way, in his eyes, Mysidia would die. It was simply a matter of how much it would cost him in the end.

“She would be vulnerable fighting so early. The advantage would be ours.”, Val’eth grinned.

“Yours, you mean.”, Drin-Sha said not amused. He didn’t exactly like being woken up so early in the morning, either. Val’eth raised his eyebrows in questioning. “Your advantage. I highly doubt it would to be to anyone else’s advantage this early in the morning.”, Drin-Sha scowled and yawned.

“Are my ears deceiving me in my old age, or are you actually protecting the girl?”, Val’eth challenged.

“Mind yourself, Tier’Dal.”, the elder orc growled.

“Your actions as of late, towards the slave, have been questionable. You have seemed to have lightened her arena load the past few days. Rumors have been widely whispered that you even let her sleep past dawn.”, Val’eth said picking at the few scraps of fruit that were on Drin-Sha’s dining table.

“Why, Val’eth, such rumors are beneath you.”, Drin-Sha chided.

“Such rumors are invaluable.”, Val’eth said short, leaving little room for discussion.

“I’m surprised you actually indulge in blood letting this early in the morning. But…”, Drin-Sha paused realizing he could completely blow his cover, “.. if you feel it necessary, have the girl pulled from the pen. You do realize, however, that if she is killed this morning, YOU will have to deal with the orc masses later on. She is a favorite of the arena crowds and has made several of us far richer than before she was here.”

Val’eth sneered. “I’ll take my chances.”

Drin-Sha waved his hand to dismiss the dark elf. As he watched the Tier’Dal leave, he couldn’t help but feel a small flame of fear begin to build in the pit of his stomach. Mysidia had survived the arena countless times before, but how much longer would the law of averages be in her favor?

The wheels were turning in Drin-Sha’s head. If she could merely survive one more fight, he might be able to bargain with the Emperor in putting her into a temporary retirement until strong enough to fight again. Perhaps if the Emperor had made a wager and gained a profit, he might see things his way…

Mysidia grabbed the large two handed hammer placed on the side for her. She looked ahead of her and watched with a grim curiosity as the double doors opened. Her eyes widen with shock as she witnessed Drin’Sha’s bodyguard slowly walking through.

The orc was enormous in size and already carried a few scars on his body from previous battles he’s fought and won in. He carried a large pole, with what appeared to be a large crude cement block on the end. Mysidia knew that if she got in the way of such a weapon, it’d be the end of her.

She gripped her hammer tightly and let out a deep breath slowly, focusing on the impending battle.

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The bowels of the Citadel would be as bleak and miserable as one would expect. The rank of gritty mud and orc sweat permeated through the roughly carved cavern walls. The sounds of rock picks “tinkered” off of the large boulders, echoed down the walkways. And of course, the unmistakable sound of the orc slave drivers barking and snapping their whips to keep the workers in line also attributed to the dismal atmosphere.

Faid lead the team forward with a careful and sure foot. With his abilities, they all melded into the shadows around them. Every so often, he would signal back for every to press themselves against the cavern they were snaking around, out of danger. There were a few close calls, but nothing that would render Machene or Kryimsson to unsheathe their sword.

To an untrained eye, everything around the orcs was a simple “business as usual”. Every once in a while, an orc would notice a puddle making an unusual ripple. Since they worked in the caverns, it wasn’t uncommon that a few pebbles drop from the cavern ceiling and so this was overlooked.

Faid carefully pulled out the piece of paper and looked at the crude map Mysidia had drawn for them. He looked ahead of him and tried to picture where to go. Xerbius looked onto the map with him and whispered something while pointing ahead. He nodded and rolled the map away, continuing onward.

“You! You there! Stop!”, an orc shouted in his native tongue. Faid grumbled and turned around realizing their mission just grew increasingly more difficult.

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Mysidia quickly dodged out of the way of the orc swinging his mighty two handed crude mace. The thick whoosh sound flew past her head and the strong breeze that followed fluttered the few stray strands of hair away from her face.

Mysidia was already bloody. The orc had gotten in a few decent shots to her body and her side was bleeding badly. The fight in her simply would not give out, however. Drin-Sha watched from the edge of his seat and inwardly winced every time she did take a hit.

The orc, however, was not without mark. Mysidia had landed a few blows of her own and the orc’s head was profusely bleeding. Thick black blood dripped off his misshapen jaw.

Mysidia spun around and with two hands, had her hammer follow. With a gross “crunch”, the hammer found its mark on the thick thigh of the orc. The orc yelled, dropping to his knees. It was highly unlikely that Mysidia had enough force to crack his femur, but his leg was badly injured and the crunch sound gave little evidence to definite bone damage.

With a frustrated satisfaction, Mysidia came at him with her hammer again, this time, catching the orc by the side of the head. Brain matter shot out the other end and the orc fell lifeless to the ground with a loud and shaking “thud”.

Mysidia fell to her knees looking up at her captors with anger flashing in her eyes. She could feel herself get lightheaded. She looked down at her wound in her side. It was deep and if left untreated, mortal.

She slumped down onto the arena floor and felt her blood begin to pool underneath her. She simply closed her eyes and awaited the inevitable.

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Machene ran through the cavern walkways, dodging the orcs that chased him and his group. The sound of feet stomping through puddles could be heard as well as the airy sound of yells from behind them.

They all ran through a large circular cavern and stopped short when they heard a large “thud” come from above them. Faid stopped and looked up as he saw several dust clouds and pebbles come from above.

“What was that?”, Xerbius asked trying to catch his breath.

“We must be underneath the arena.”, Faid noticed. “But why would they be fighting so early?”

They all paused and looked at one another. They all knew what was going on but no one wanted to speak the unthinkable.

“We better move.”, Machene said with a slight shake in his voice. They all ran down the walkway and headed up the stairs.

***************************

The orcs threw Mysidia’s body into her cell. She was too weak to fight or yelp. Her body was broken. Blood dripped off her fingers on her arm that was draped over her side. Her glassy eyes looked up as the orcs left her and closed the cell behind them.

Drin-Sha did all he could in getting a shaman to look in on her, but if he pushed the issue, it would seem suspicious. His hands were tied and the means of his escape was dying in a cell hundreds of feet away.

Mysidia looked at her crude altar. A tear streamed down her bloody face. Such a noble race only to be belittled by a dishonorable death in a filthy slave cell.. She closed her eyes and began to picture herself standing next to Tunare…

****************************

Hundreds of orc bodies littered the halls of the Citadel. The wild and fierce look of a true Berserker dangerously lit Machene’s eyes as he tried to look for his wife. No orc was safe and the more he witnessed of their barbaric lifestyle, the wilder the look grew.

He began to see images of slave chains and patches of blood stains on several of the walls. Picturing his wife enduring any of that sent him in fits of rage. One orc face was just as similar as another. The bodies fell like flies. So long as Feja kept them all warded, the orcs would continue to do so; fall.

They rounded a corner and a wash of relief spread over their faces when they saw the familiar sight of the slave cells. Each one broke off of the group to look in a cell. Machene held a deep hope that the cell he chose, she would be inside, waiting for him.

The cell he approached, he couldn’t have been more wrong or more horrified. A rotting corpse laid cold against one of the walls, its wrist shackled and its grim face twisted under the decomposition. Yet, the look was eerily calm, as if to accept and welcome the release death would bring.

Fear froze within Machene’s chest as he looked at the corpse. Nothing betrayed it to be Mysidia and Machene tried desperately to look for some clue, something familiar to show who that was.

The corpse had been there for a few weeks and from what he could tell, simply died of starvation. Machene sank slowly to his knees as he held out his hand to try and touch it, tears stinging his eyes.

“Machene! Here!”, Faid yelled looking into one of the cells. He jumped up to his feet and ran over to him, nearly shoving Faid over. Everyone else came running to see what it was that Faid saw.

Relief struck everyone when they recognized Mysidia’s body inside the cell. And yet, the state she was in, she was barely recognizable. Her skin was blood spattered and grimy from neglect. Vibrant tattoos decorated her arms and legs and from the angle she was laying in, they could barely make out the Phoenix on her back. Machene nearly collapsed with relief when he saw her chest rise and fall with her breathing. He had to remember to breathe, himself.

That was when he noticed the small pool of blood collecting underneath her. Machene turned to Faid. “She’s bleeding. We need to get in. Can you…?”

“Already done, my man.”, Faid said holding up his lock pick. The door swung open with a loud hollowing squeak.

Feja and Machene entered first with Faid, Austforbeer, Kryimsson, and Xerbius to try and look around them both.

Feja dropped to her knees and began to examine Mysidia’s frail body. A grim look grabbed her face when she began to probe her furry fingers into some of her wounds.

“She’s alive, but these wounds are serious.”, she said taking off her pack.

“We can’t wait for you to start healing her now, Feja. Those orcs will be back and you can bet they’ll be bringing friends.”, Xerbius mentioned.

“If I don’t treat the major ones now, I will be risking a resurrection later.”, Feja said stern.

“What are those marks on her legs and back?”, Faid asked curious.

“They are the Frak-shol Tunare. The written prayer.”, Machene and Kryimsson both said in unison.

“Aren’t they supposed to be temporary?”, Austforbeer asked noticing them as well.

Machene held the lump in his throat as he answered. He swallowed hard replying, “Only if you plan on surviving. She didn’t think she would make it out of here alive.”

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