A Chosen RP

The weather in Lugard had been dreary for several weeks, over cast skies and drizzling rain were akin to the mood around the manor house. Servants were on edge as the mistress of the house took to the hidden passages and rooms of the house. Everyone knew why she was scarce, but no one voiced the cause out loud, not even in hushed whispers. Their mistress’ wrath was not something they wanted on their heads. It was good for it to be directed else where for a change.

Two weeks gone a carriage arrived in the middle of the night. A worm like bundle was carried squirming into the manor house. It wasn’t but a night later that the darkness was filled with muffled screams of agony and the servants set about their tasks turning a blind eye and ignoring the sounds coming from those secret passages no one was suppose to know about but the Mistress of the house. No one spoke with out being spoken to and everyone rushed from place to place. Now was not the time to bring the Mistress’ eye upon you.

Deep with in the manor Semirhage stood over the crying man who had been brought in those two short weeks ago. Short for Semirhage, her prey no doubt thought it was a very long two weeks filled with hunger, pain and most of all torture. Semirhage smiled at what he might be thinking. She was truly enjoying this event, even if it didn’t produce the results she wanted. It was still fun.

The man had a name, but Semirhage didn’t bother using it. He was from a rival noble house. His master was her greatest advisary in the assumption of the crown of Murandy – something that had not been done in many years. But Semirhage had a plan and the Great Lord would be proud of it’s completion. The Dark would prevail at Tarmon Gaidon if she succeeded. At least in her mind it was the end all and be all of plans for the Great Lord. No doubt everyone else would think the same, but the thought never crossed her mind.

Two weeks of torture had not yet yielded any valuable information. He either didn’t know a thing or he was tight lipped. Semirhage hoped it was the latter. This morning would start a new session of torture; he’d been left waiting for days on end chained to a wall naked. His first response to seeing Semirhage dressed in blood red was to begin crying. What he said wasn’t important, it was mostly just babble right now, as a matter of fact that was all he really every did was babble.

Semirhage began simply, first with a small weave of fire brushed against his skin. He cried out in pain and she smiled, then sweetly spoke. “Your master’s estates, how large is his army?”

The man quivered. “I… I don’t know.”

Semirhage increased the intensity of the weave and he cried out. “Sure you know, you are his right most servant, you should know all things going on around you.”

He cried out again. “I really don’t know.” Again the pain increased as Semirhage increased the intensity. His skin started to blister where the weave touched. “Maybe three hundred trained men….” Semirhage smiled, finally an answer.

Semirhage continued with the torture only allowing him time to speak when spoken to. He revealed little information, but what he had would be used in her plot to gain the Queenship of Murandy. Today he would be given food and healing. She would enjoy the healing as much as she had the torture.

Dragon Hunting

Published on September 30, 2015

First Public Writing

Published on September 30, 2015