phrostphyre
Junior Member
I'm the Rascal King.
Posts: 120
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Post by phrostphyre on Jun 9, 2010 21:37:12 GMT -5
"'Ey, there he is!" "Righto, get 'im lads!" "Come back here, you scurvy dog!" Yells broke out from the crowd surrounding Convel as he ran at the first yell. Luckily, he didn't have any weapons on him, so if he was captured, he could maybe escape and get his various 'items' back. His train of thoughts was cut off as several more cornered him. Yells of encouragement to the guards worried Convel, but he tried to do his best to escape. They managed to beat him to the ground and manacle him, as he gave one a bloody noes and a different one a kneed groin.
"You are charged with thirteen counts of cattle theft, herds ranging from ten to several hundred in size, three counts of horse theft, herds ranging from three to twenty in size, five different counts of murder, ten assaults, twelve counts insult given to a gentleman or noble, and rebellion. What do you plead?" This stopped Convel in his struggles. Murder? Assault? Insult? Horse and cattle theft, yes. Murder? No! He had defended himself or a friend from harm. That wasn't murder, that was self-defense or defense of friends! Rebellion? He hadn't declared for the Rebels or Surda! He was merely trying to survive in a hostile environment, not rebel or some shit like that.
"Your honors, I plead nae guilty to the murders, but guilty tae the theft. I'm just trying tae survive, aye?" BOOM! His face was beat into the ground with a spear butt, while he was turned over and his kilt lifted to show the onlookers that "This mighty criminal is the same as any man! I bet that he couldn't even kill a man!" Convel struggled mightily as he was fondled, bellowing in Gaelic and eventually managing to get to his feet. They bundled him along, while the crowd slowly went back to it's business with only one or two jeers and taunts thrown his way.
**~~** Face against cell wall, hands clad in irons lifted above his head, blood running down his back and into his kilt, hair hanging long and greasy from not washing over his face, and Convel did indeed look "a right criminal and rouge, deserving of death, but spared by our lenient king to repent his wicked ways." Tears erupted from his eyes as the whip was applied again and again, but he didn't cry out for it to stop, or plea for mercy. He took his flogging with only a muffled exhalation of breath at each hit and the sound of him sniffling, trying to catch his breath. Water dripped in the prison nearby, and he knew he was going to die, for that was the 'death drip' of the Alban Highlands. Eventually they laid him on his pallet in the cell, and when they left he puked and cried at the same time, ashamed at his disgusting show of tears and failure to escape.
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Post by ARWEN REDFERN on Jun 10, 2010 8:42:10 GMT -5
JUST A SMALL TOWN GIRL LIVIN' IN A LONELY WORLD{ she took the midnight train goin' anywhere }
Oh, ew. It smells gross down here.
Oh hush, Arwen. It always smells bad down here.
[/b] A dark haired man grumbled looking rather annoyed. A pretty dark haired girl followed in his footsteps as she looked around the underground prison. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. Looking up at her friend, she dryly said. It would be nice if they did clean up down here. How the hell do the guards stand this? The boy glared at her before giving a tired sigh. He had dragged Arwen down with him to see this particular prisoner that was apparently 'spared'. Of course, the girl was more than happy to spend some time with him and help him on stuff like this. He shook his head tiredly looking at the disgruntled girl who was crossing her arms and walking with him. Arwen. They're guards. They can probably stand alot of things.[/b] in his mind, he added, like you. The girl huffed angrily before she shot back. But still! How can you stand it, Mutagh? It's gross! He rolled his eyes as the girl continued to rant on about how dirty and how smelly it was. They would be out of there soon. He stopped infront of a jail cell that held a red haired man. His dirty tear stained face did not trigger any sort of emotion out of him. Half the time he hardly smiled. He was a sort of guy that didn't show his emotions alot. Well, the only person who could get him to show emotion was... Is that the guy? Wow. He looks horrible. Hey! Are you okay? Do you need any water? Arwen looked at him. Her blue eyes peered at the dark figure in the mucky cell. Murtagh growled at her, grabbing her and making her take a few steps back. Arwen! We are supposed to be interrgating him! Not feeding him! He's not an ani---[/b] he was cut off with Arwen snapping at him, But still! Look at him! Don't you feel just a little bit sorry for him? The girl retorted making Murtagh regret that he had taken her down with him. That was what he was talking about. The only person who could get an emotion out of Murtagh was Arwen. Only she could bother him so much that he would actually lose his cool. The dark haired girl stepped forward and looked a the man once more. Soo....what did they accuse you of doing?Murtagh wanted to hit his head against the wall. He had already told her the reason why they were going down. He then wondered if Arwen had short term memory loss. [/size][/blockquote][/blockquote] DON'T STOP BELIEVING HOLD ON TO THAT FEELING{ streetlights people don't stop believing }TAGGEDPhrost and open WORDS ?? TEMPLATE PANIC! ITS LAUZ @ CAUTION NOTES lols at murtagh and arwen's convo.[/center]
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phrostphyre
Junior Member
I'm the Rascal King.
Posts: 120
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Post by phrostphyre on Jun 10, 2010 13:05:26 GMT -5
Voices broke through the dreams. They were arguing, but more in a friendly sort of way. A male and a female. Their footsteps sounded like those of warriors. They stopped outside his cell, probably to taunt him, he thought. The shaggy head lifted, and from under the red hair, a singular blue eye opened and glared. It was bloodshot and angry looking.
"Mphmmm? Mphmmm." The head fell back down, then a hum emitted from the large chest cavity. He was just humming to hum, not even knowing he was doing it. He slowly fell back to his waking dream, thinking he was standing in a castle in front of a man he vaguely recognized as his father.
"Da? Is that ye?" He didn't know what language he spoke, but he spoke. His father looked at him sadly, then slowly shook his head and turned to look at the wall to his right. He looked too, and what he saw shocked him. It was a scene of his father's death, killed at the hands of a man wearing a blue coat and red kilt. The words Clan Fraser formed them self in his head, and he knew that his father was dead, his sister running the entire clan, and his mother in grieving, while his best friend helped his sister. His father somehow wordlessly reassured him that their clan was going to survive, and then it all dissolved for him, finding himself back in his body, with the knowledge of who he was intact and stronger than ever. Convel burst from his pallet in the corner to face the man and woman with fire in his eyes and steel in his backbone.
"Nae. I dinnae ask that ye bring me water, or food, or comfort, Undoubtedly ye have come to torture me more, and enjoy it too! Weel, I tell, do it! I'll nae be able to harm ye! I am going to tell ye nothing about myself, my family, or my friends! I was born free, I shall live free, and I will die free, and no man, or woman, can take that freedom from me, for I am a man, an Alban, and myself!" He jerked at them, being stopped only by the irons on his wrists stopping him from moving any further than twenty-four inches away from the wall. His sporran had been taken from him, and the only think he had was his kilt, and that was bloodstained and dirty. His shirt wasn't even worth mentioning, but Convel still managed to look like a laird, albeit a captured, tortured, angry laird.
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Post by ARWEN REDFERN on Jun 10, 2010 14:06:27 GMT -5
JUST A SMALL TOWN GIRL LIVIN' IN A LONELY WORLD{ she took the midnight train goin' anywhere } Arwen stared at him for a moment before looking back at Murtagh. Er...what did this guy exactly do? The man sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He quietly said, Apparently, he's a traitor of the empire. We are to get him to confess.
[/b] the girl frowned. What was so wrong about going against the empire? She would too. Well, she was already but wasn't as if she was going to tell Murtagh that. She looked back over at the red haired man and told him slowly. This man over here just wants to ask you a few questions. Don't worry. I'll make sure he won't hurt you. If he does... the girl cracked her knuckles. She shot Murtagh a sweet smile which on cue he gave an eyeroll. I'll beat him to a pulp if he does end up trying to hurt you. Sounds good? The pretty dark haired girl then looked at Murtagh again with a raised brow. He shrugged and looked innocent. What?[/b] Arwen punched him on the shoulder. Hard. She gave him a small pout. You know what! The man looks as if he went through some storm! Be nicer to him! Ask someone to help clean him up! Murathg snarled at the sudden pain and grabbed Arwen by the shoulders and gave her a little shake. b] HE'S A PRISIONER. GET THAT THROUGH YOUR THICK SKULL![/b] Her blue eyes grew slightly wide at him nearly yelling at him. He ended up hissing at her with a dark look on his face. She gave a frown before colliding her head into his. Quite hard. He stumbled back and with a glare from Arwen, she huffed, What's so wrong about being nice to a prisoner? God, Murtagh. You're more strict than I thought. She smirked at him. Murtagh was going to strangle her. Arwen saw the anger in his eyes and smiled sweetly at him. It's okay, Murtagh! I promise I won't mess your interview thing up. Okay? She gave him a pat on the back before looking back at the red haired man. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she stared at the man for a moment before speaking, Do you understand why you are here? Her voice was slightly cooler than before. Murtagh let out a sigh of relief. Thank god she hadn't asked that dreaded question yet. For a moment there, Murtagh was pretty sure that she wanted to ask if-- Hey! Is that a skirt? How come you're wearing a skirt? Murtagh breathed deeply in and closed his eyes. Ah, yes. That question. It was completely irrelevant to the interrogation. Arwen was smiling up at him and her blue eyes were telling him something that he was beginning to dread. Murtagh had never understood women and when he had first met Arwen, he understood why so many men were so afraid of her. She was not normal. Sure, she looked normal but looks could be deceiving. Murtagh was sure of that. Re opening his eyes, he glanced over towards Arwen who was already asking questions to the prisoner. You know. If you didn't do anything, you just have to tell me and I'll do my best to set you free! You don't look like a guy who would recklessly kill someone. Well...to be honest..you look like the guy who would get drun-- she was cut off with Murtagh clamming a hand over her mouth. She frowned for a moment before trying to get out of his grasp. He shot her a grim look before he said, Convel, correct? The king has been kind enough to spare your life. The king wishes to know what sort of treason you and your groups are planning.[/b] He felt something wet against his palm and moved it away quickly. Arwen smirked at him before looking at Convel. With a small wrinkling of her nose, she told Murtagh, Your palm tastes nasty. You really need to wash your hands. Murtagh glared at her before she placed a hand on her hip and stared at the man with a raised brow. Her voice lost it's childish tone as she then asked him, What sort of thieving have you been up to? I'm sure that you could say that you have not committed any treason against the king, but you surely must of been thieving around. Correct?[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote] DON'T STOP BELIEVING HOLD ON TO THAT FEELING{ streetlights people don't stop believing }TAGGEDPhrost and open WORDS ?? TEMPLATE PANIC! ITS LAUZ @ CAUTION NOTES those two are like kids.[/center]
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Talon
Novice
iz not wut u think
Posts: 36
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Post by Talon on Jun 10, 2010 15:28:09 GMT -5
Too long he had been away, the mission was supposed to be a quick one, but certain…circumstances had delayed his arrival back to Uru’baen. He had much to tell Galbatorix, and even more to learn of the new problems the Empire and Alagaesia as a whole were facing. Right now he just felt like sleeping. The time away in Vroengard had not been a vacation. Some of the rumors whispered about that far off island were indeed true. Shivers ran down his spine, now as not the time to think of the images still spinning in his head. Now was the time for calm, a level head. He had to appear collected and clean. Above all he had to look strong. The soldiers would start to notice him soon, word would be sent of his arrival. He had already been in contact with Galbatorix, not face-to-face, but mentally. As a matter of face he had been talking with the Emperor for several days now, ever since they had been able to converse comfortably across the distance. So really talking with Galbatorix later wouldn’t take too long. At least, that is what he wished. If it did happen to drag on it would probably mean a new mission right now.
Capio. Galbatorix will not make us fly out at least until the morning. Rest now. [/color] Capio smiled at the brush from Anira’s mind. He nodded quietly to himself and breathed in deeply. She was right of course. The king was not unreasonable; he would know that this rider needed a good night’s rest. The mission to Vroengard had taken more out of him than he wished to admit. It wasn’t without its rewards, and at that thought he placed a hand on the hilt of his new scimitars. Rewards for a battle within the depths of a place he dare not mention now. Not when he was trying to calm down and get back to his quarters. You’re just bothered by my busy thoughts aren’t you? I imagine you’re already in your comfortable little bed.[/color] Capio grinned, knowing perfectly well that Anira was in fact drifting off to sleep right then. She sent him back an image of their room, still sparkling clean, and then all he saw was the inside of her eyelids. Capio could not begrudge Anira her sleep. His dragon had grown considerably. After all, she was still young, but he was hoping that at some point she would slow down. Anira needed rest more than he did right now. For days she had flown against the wind. They sensed urgency in the land and barely rested on their way back to Uru’baen. Now after a quick meal she was fading fast, but Capio had one small matter to tend to before he could rest. Of all places he had to go to the dungeons. It would be a grand climb to his quarters. He shouldn’t complain though, Anira had done all of the work. Capio couldn’t really help her fly, so he simply sat down on the return journey. Still his legs felt cramped after those long hours and he was still worn from the trials in Vroengard. It couldn’t be helped he was already here, and looking not much like himself. Capio had been on the road so long all his clothes were filthy and his hair had grown a bit wild. There was a hint of a slightly grizzled beard on his chin and there were bags under his eyes from lack of sleep. His normally sharp uniform of orange and blue now looked more brown, there were holes on the knees and large tear across his chest and one sleeve was almost gone. There were areas around some of the tears that were bloodstained. On his boot was one particularly large spot of blood, but it was also splattered on his pants and bits of the wrecked tunic. Obviously not all the blood had been Capio’s. The rider tried to use his black traveling cloak to hide the worst of it. He keep the cowl pulled up far to hide his face and drew it close to hide the worst of the tunic but he couldn’t help the cloak itself. It was similarly stained and torn the edges were frayed and mud was nearly halfway up. Still it was better than nothing. A shame it couldn’t do anything for the smell. Capio had originally been disgusted with himself but he would clean up when he got the chance. He had lived in this condition long enough now to be able to tolerate it. As he approached the dungeons he heard several voices. Two were incredibly new, he hadn’t a clue as to who they might belong to. One was ridiculous to even understand it’s accent was so heavy. Who did they have stored down here now? The other unknown seemed catty and whining, it seemed to use the tone a young girl would use on her father to ask for a pony. Capio sighed, this would not be a pleasant walk by…but wait he couldn’t simply walk past. The third voice was very familiar. An old friend and comrade that he had trained side by side with after Anira had hatched. Murtagh, the first new rider of the Empire and partner to Thorn. So who was this prisoner and the girl accompanying a well known rider? Why would Murtagh be down here? Capio paused, keeping out of sight to get a better feel for what was happening. He was able to catch a bit from the prisoner talking about how they would get nothing from him…so this was an interrogation…and then he heard a name. Convel. Must be the prisoner, the name sounded foreign seemed to flow with the drawl he heard. And Galbatorix was interested in this guy? All the same it seemed kind of silly to send Murtagh here to deal with a simple interrogation. No matter, this guy just might be difficult to crack. It was then Capio had wished he hadn’t listened. The girlish voice had just exclaimed that a palm was nasty. This was too much, the rider couldn’t wait anymore to see this strange sight. He caught a quick image of Murtagh wiping off his hand and the girl’s fiendish grin. Pretty easy to see what had happened here. Despite his extremely ragged appearance Capio wanted desperately to laugh out loud, especially after the girl continued controlling the interrogation. He controlled himself, turning the would be laugh into a wicked sneer. Appearances needed to be upheld around prisoners. If he wanted to taunt Murtagh he couldn’t do it openly. Solidarity was of extreme importance…of course this girl wasn’t helping with that issue. Who did she think she was? Murtagh should be asking those questions, not someone that appeared to be under twenty. Capio turned to Murtagh first and with an eyebrow raised and a stern look on his face he spoke in a hushed tone. They were far enough from the prisoner to where Capio could keep his words between these two. He also kept his cloak over his face, not letting this Convel get a look at his face. Because Capio was angry with Murtagh despite the hilarity of the situation. This was not how an interrogation was to be run. “What do you think you are doing Murtagh? I come back after being away for months to…to this farce? You are letting a kid control an interrogation…do you mean to make friends with this Convel?”[/color] His voice came out in a hiss and he had a difficult time keeping his voice down. All Capio had wanted to do was finish his small task and then return to his quarters, but now that Murtagh had screwed things up Capio would have to clean up…like usual. Immature kid. “And you…”[/color] Capio’s head snapped to the side, his icy glare drilling into this red-haired maniac. His voice was deadly and stern, but he did not yell. Somehow it had the effect of making it much more threatening. “Free man or not show some respect. Your situation would not be so dire if you at least pretended to have some sense of decency…control yourself. You look a fool struggling against those irons. I can assure you, they will break nothing but your skin if you strain against them”[/color] Capio ignored that girl for now. He wasn’t blaming her for acting a fool, Murtagh was at fault for even bringing her down her. Now there was a raging red-head in the cell…obviously there had been an ‘interrogation’ before Murtagh ever got here. What a mess this was…[/size][/blockquote]
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phrostphyre
Junior Member
I'm the Rascal King.
Posts: 120
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Post by phrostphyre on Jun 10, 2010 19:40:45 GMT -5
There were now two males, and one female. What in the Hell was a female doing here? Going to use her feminine wiles on him to try and get him to spill his guts? He could understand the gentlemen holding him and punching him in said guts, but what in Dé name was the girl going to do? At least it looked like proper interrogation party. Convel MacTire promptly stated this, and then was promptly told to "SHUT UP, PRISONER!" by three sets of voices, and then they went back to arguing. Convel contemplated his cell. It was approximately twelve by twelve, with a small pallet in the corner, a bucket in the other corner, and his wrist irons that were stapled to the wall.
"Excuse me? Can I get a wee bit of that life-giving substance, whiskey? Please? I'll appreciate it, if ye do! Or, better yet, kill me, then toss my rotting carcass into the ocean. I'm nae to particular as tae which ye do first! Convel decided that being nice wouldn't hurt, but it might not help. So he went with being nice. He wished that if he had known he was going to entertain, he would have worn his dress kilt. Or, some pants. Pants were good when being tortured, because invariably, some curious soul always asked what he wore under it. Like just now. Convel went with the best option in this situation, that of :"Och, give me your hand, lass, and I'll show ye. I won't show your laddies, because they probably already suspect, aye?
Glares shot his way told him discretion was the better part of valor, so he shut up, waiting to let them finish deciding his fate. There had been worse waits, after all.
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Post by ARWEN REDFERN on Jun 10, 2010 20:15:42 GMT -5
JUST A SMALL TOWN GIRL LIVIN' IN A LONELY WORLD{ she took the midnight train goin' anywhere } Arwen stopped laughing and turned to hear the voice and footsteps of a new comer. Raising a brow, she ignored the prisoner and listened to the man. He had called her a kid and had basically insulted Murtagh! She let out a small growl before sweetly saying to the man, Who said I was a kid? I'm the one making friends with him, not Murtagh. Besides, what are you doing here? Are you even supposed to-- She was cut off with a small squeeze of Murtagh's hand that was on her arm. She winced slightly before giving the new comer an icy glare of her own. Alright, she wasn't as cheerful as she was before. Rather, she felt the urge to slit this man's throat without another question. Besides, it was just another random guy, right? Wrong. Murtagh spoke in a calm and cool tone, his gray eyes turning icy when speaking to the man,
Capio. It's been a while. I was about to take the situation into hand..before you interrupted. He is no friend of mine. I believe that you have misinterpreted the situation.
[/b] he spoke smoothly while his hand remained on Arwen's arm. The girl silently glared at the man in front of her. She couldn't speak now and she knew if she did, Murtagh would probably get into more trouble. Murtagh now faced the prisoner and in a sharp tone, he added. Silence, prisoner. You, are scum and do not deserve to even command us with anything. You will ignore the lady over here for she is not part of this. [/b] His voice sounded commanding and stern. His gray icy colored eyes stared at the red haired man with such coldness, Arwen nearly flinched. The girl looked helplessly at the red haired man. She mouthed a 'sorry' before looking back up at Murtagh who was now looking at the man called Capio. Murtagh face was completely unreadable and that almost scared Arwen. He spoke in a cold tone towards Capio, his eyes never leaving the other man's. His arm was still clutching Arwen's arm tightly. You can leave now, if you wish. You are not very needed here.[/b] Arwen looked from Capio to Murtagh who looked as if they were having some sort of staring contest. Seriously, was everyone in the empire always so unhappy? Arwen was smart enough to be quiet for she knew that this man, Capio was dangerous. He sounded dangerous. Arwen's face also turned blank as she gave him another one of her icy stares. She lifted her chin up, as a look of pride entered into her face. She was not going down without a fight. Arwen did not like people who always sounded so...great and mighty. It rather annoyed her. With a silent glare, she thought loudly, You can leave now, you bastard. Leave us alone, would you?[/i] her voice in her head was snappish. Sure, she couldn't link her mind with his but hopefully it sent the message. [/size][/blockquote][/blockquote] DON'T STOP BELIEVING HOLD ON TO THAT FEELING{ streetlights people don't stop believing }TAGGEDPhrost, Talon, and ope WORDS ?? TEMPLATE PANIC! ITS LAUZ @ CAUTION NOTES Oooo. tension![/center]
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Talon
Novice
iz not wut u think
Posts: 36
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Post by Talon on Jun 10, 2010 21:13:41 GMT -5
Capio kept his eyes on the prisoner that Murtagh and his pet seemed to have forgotten. The rider had not yet taken a chance to truly see what had happened to the prisoner. First he took in the poor shape of the prison cell, something to mention to his lieutenants. Prisoners might be criminals, but that didn’t mean they should die from disease due to the filth forced upon them. This place should be clean, not comfortable, but sanitary. The bucket in the corner had not been emptied for a long while and the stench emitting from it was wretched. The pallet the prisoner had to lay on was covered in filth and there was a pile of fresh vomit right off its edge. Looking at this Colven’s face Capio could see a bit of bile hanging on the man’s lip. This was a serious matter, the rider was not sure of the chargers against this man, but it did not give the guards the right to beat this man to a pulp. Which brought the rider’s gaze to the overall health of the prisoner. Wretched absolutely shoddy. He was still bleeding from flogging and his lips appeared dry and cracked from lack of water, his hair hung in a nasty oily mess and then there was the vomit. Then Capio spotted the kilt…what the? Well whatever this strange man’s tastes this type of treatment was not deserved. However, he was still incredibly frustrated with Murtagh’s performance. And for letting someone so under qualified for interrogation. Capio would swear that if Murtagh and he weren’t there that kid would be in the cell healing the prisoner and comforting him with milk and cookies. Things had to change her, but they needed to change professionally. After all, Capio highly doubted this man was innocent.
As Convel cried out for whiskey or death Capio merely nodded in acknowledgement of the request, he needed more information from Murtagh before proceeding. However, the prisoner did not shut up as they had asked, and instead went on to spew more bull. He hadn’t meant to address the prisoner again, yet, but now the situation called for it. Turning a stern eye on the man Capio once more spoke in a harsh tone, almost as if he was a parent scolding a child. “Those will be the last disrespectful words I will tolerate from you. Speak out like that again and I’ll have your mouth gagged for days…oh and you can forget about ever drinking whiskey again…”
[/color] Capio slowly raised his left hand to the prison cell bars, showing the shining gedway ignasia on his palm. “Riders are incredibly skilled with magic…and I can make all the whiskey in the world taste like shit to your mouth…”[/color] Then he slowly put his hand back in a fist and brought it back down to his side, the raggedy black cloak covering even that. Now he had to try and deal with this girl and Murtagh. From the sound of it this kid was insulted. Capio didn’t know why, there was no way she was twenty. In his eyes that was a kid. Not like he called her a bitch or anything. Some people were touchier than a dragon short on sleep. And her reasoning for what she was doing was she crazy? She had just admitted that she was trying to make friends with a convict. This was ridiculous; did Murtagh actually think he’d get any information from this man after Convel knew someone was on his side out here? “Well then my dear young lady,”[/color], if she was so annoyed at being called a kid he might as well not provoke her. Though the sarcasm in his tone wasn’t helping much he simply couldn’t stop it from coming with his words. “I apologize for offending you but you have truly messed things up. You cannot simply follow Murtagh when he is performing his job. You are hurting his interrogation and making him look foolish in front of a fellow rider. If you want to help him you will play the part of a silent friend right now or in any other situation where he has to interrogate a prisoner.”[/color] Perhaps a bit stern, but she had to understand that what she was doing right now did not help anyone but that man behind the bars. That was intolerable in this Imperial prison. He then turned to Murtagh, his gaze softened to a more friendly light. Capio knew the young rider could perform his job correctly, but it seemed that he had a leech on him. Fortunately Capio understood woman just a bit and knew that Murtagh probably had no choice but to drag her down with him or suffer bitter consequences. So it would be best if he didn’t make Murtagh look a fool in front of his ‘woman’ or the prisoner he was supposed to interrogate. That understanding came across in his eyes, and then he decided to speak with the other rider mentally to avoid making anyone look weak in front of the prisoner. It would be a bonus that the girl couldn’t hear as well. It truly is a pleasure to see you again Murtagh, and I apologize for my cold greeting. I feel like you could do an excellent job here if you weren’t too busy trying to keep that girl in line. So though you have asked me to leave I must politely decline. I will let you deal with the prisoner if you wish, just know that I am here not because I don’t trust you. I simply don’t trust her and I want you to be able to do your job without worrying about her interference. Even now I think you are bruising her arm, what does that say to the prisoner? What are the charges against this prisoner?Capio finally turned to Convel once more and wondered what this man had done. Perhaps he should dig into the red-haired man’s brain. That was the easiest way to get information. There was no need for torture or whipping when you could simply take what you wanted. If Murtagh failed to get the information Galbatorix wanted…well that was what Capio was standing around for. If the information was gotten nicely the rider would simply take it by breaking through Convel’s mind. Or perhaps more threats of no more whiskey. “Now listen Convel, you answer Murtagh truthfully. We are not here to harm your family. Cooperate and I’ll make sure to get you a bit of water and food. Perhaps if you are extra kind and helpful I can work on getting you a bit of whiskey.”[/color][/size][/blockquote]
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phrostphyre
Junior Member
I'm the Rascal King.
Posts: 120
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Post by phrostphyre on Jun 10, 2010 21:43:04 GMT -5
"Kill me, torture me, it's nae like I have a say in the matter, is it? I'll just stand here in my cell, watching you ladies and gentlemen have a pissing contest. Enjoy it. Enjoy killing me, enjoy torturing me, enjoy living life while I die." Convel hung his head and tried to straighten his appearance up. While he couldn't do anything about his hair, he could try and clean his mouth out by spitting, which he proceeded to do, aiming for the bucket. Twelve shots out of fifteen made it into the bucket, and his mouth felt better. He swore in Gaelic, angry about the lack of water.
"Aon cheann de mo phríosúnaigh fhulaing mar seo, ó aon. Swift agus bás éasca, bia, uisce, a bhí déanta acu é! Seo mé, i bhfostú i bpoll éigin cac-príosún a, ag éisteacht le fraochÚn agus dhá Dímheabhraigh a fháil isteach ann. Mór, ach mór. Cad a rinne mé féin isteach?"[/i] Maybe they'd behead him, as a traitor. His father had always told him he was destined for greatness. Or maybe that was his father talking. He concentrated upon reciting poetry, one of the requirements to be in a good Fionna.
"Three young lads played away, and upoon them came, the Devil, he said to them "Lads, come stay a while with me in my land." They asked him what they'd get for it, he told them the same as always "Ye'll get your lives, and a ball to play with, for here in this meadow, I control everything!" Saying this, he made a ball of fire upon his hand, he made time slow down-"
Convel was stopped by screams from other prisoners telling him to shut up. He swore softly, then took to jerking at his chains again, trying to get out of the irons once more.
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Post by ARWEN REDFERN on Jun 11, 2010 13:12:25 GMT -5
JUST A SMALL TOWN GIRL LIVIN' IN A LONELY WORLD{ she took the midnight train goin' anywhere } Arwen was nearly shaking with anger. She messing things up? Well, sorry for being kind! Her blue eyes glared at him with a look of burning hatred. She could do whatever she pleased. She was about to retort before Murtagh squeezed her arm tighter. She winced one more. With him doing that, she was going to have a bruise there soon. Then again, he was looking after her. He was glancing at her with those cold gray eyes. Arwen remained silent before grasping his hand and trying to force him to let go of her. She wanted to snarl at the other man but she knew that would do no good. Murtagh let her arm go as soon as she tapped his hand that was on her arm. Fine, she would be quiet. That didn't mean that she wasn't going to kick someone later. She gave Murtagh a small look before looking back at the prisoner with a look of boredom on her face. If things were going to be like this, it would be better to stay in her room. So much for the adventure. With her childish like tone gone, she gave the other rider in the room a nasty smile and spat out at him,
God, you're such a prick! Can't believe-- She was cut off by Murtagh snarling, Arwen! Just...shut up. Please?
[/b] he ended with a pleading end in his voice. The girl shut up. Her eyes looked down, slightly embarrassed. Murtagh, on the other hand felt annoyed and slightly embarrassed as well. He gave a small cough before speaking to Capio again. In his mind, he spoke in a cool and smooth tone, You apology is accepted, for I would of done the same if that ever happened to you. The girl, Arwen, happens to be my half sister and I know I shouldn't of brought her here. I understand that you don't trust her, but I trust her. I shall keep her in line while interrogating him.[/i] In his cool voice, he continued on aloud. This man has been convicted of treason and we are to extract information from him. He denies it, of course. He is...difficult.[/b] He glances over at the red haired man and give him an icy glare. Arwen remained silent and finally looked at the other rider with an intense stare. It was ot because she was angry, but because she wanted to just...look at him. Observing him would be a good key. So what, if she looked rude? Arwen stared at his face and her blue eyes locked on to his. Without even saying anything, she gave a small smirk as if thinking of some sort of cruel joke. Alright, Covel. So, what sort of plots have you been planning with your little group? Answer truthfully, I will know if you are lying.[/b] His voice was cold as ice. He didn't look over at Arwen who had now broke her gaze and now was staring at the prisoner with a look of annoyance on her face. A moment later, she resumed the blank look she usually wore on her face when bored. Murtagh's face did not change when he glared darkly at the prisoner. The man was making some sort of song and was talking bout something stupid. Stop singing, fool! Answer the question now. As my comrade had said earlier. Co-operate and we shall provide you with a few things. Such as whiskey.[/b] He sounded slightly amuse in a cruel way at the end before awaiting the man's answer. [/size][/blockquote][/blockquote] DON'T STOP BELIEVING HOLD ON TO THAT FEELING{ streetlights people don't stop believing }TAGGEDPhrost, Talon, and ope WORDS dunno TEMPLATE PANIC! ITS LAUZ @ CAUTION NOTES Murtagh is annoyed.[/center]
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phrostphyre
Junior Member
I'm the Rascal King.
Posts: 120
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Post by phrostphyre on Jun 11, 2010 20:47:28 GMT -5
Convel could tell that the man, Murtagh, was angry with him. Hell, they all were angry at him. Someone was always angry at him for something. Apparently, he was plotting treason.
"How is a man supposed to plot treason, if he owes the laird being betrayed no loyalty to begin with? I'm nae an Alagaesian, I'm an Alban, and if ye try tae whip that out of me, there's lots of skin left on my back, aye? If ye kill me, ye'll nae be doing me a favor. I'll probably wind up in some frozen Hell, with my hands locked around the throat of the first man I killed, and we'll stay that way for eternity, choking each other forever. I'd love tae see try tae get to my family, but I'll undoubtedly die before I do. I shall go to my death with a smile on my lips, and fire in my eyes, for I am not some cowed Alagaesian, content to be whipped to death, I am an Alban, and ye shall never take that away from me. Enter my mind, if ye will. Ye'll get nothing useful from it, for it is the mind of an Alban man, not an Alagaesian man, and there is a large difference, chains or no chains, cell or no cell, dragon or no dragon. I shall not let myself go into my personal frozen Hell without a fight, and I shall fight for as long as I have breath." There were fires dancing in his eyes, and something lent him strength, where it came from, Convel would never know, but with a mighty rip and yell, he pulled the manacles from the chains binding him to the wall. He paced like a big cat just beyond the edge of fire light, eyeing them with intrest, while the broken iron chains clinked at his sides. His blue slanted cat eyes watched them with anger, defiance, and intrest, while he slowly scratched at his stubble. Something else was inside those eyes, something not easily named. Was it berserk rage, barely held in check? Was it the strength of will that had allowed him to break the weak chains in the links? What ever it was, it was the thing that allowed women to continue bearing children, it allowed men to continue fighting on in a battle that was hopelessly lost, yet somehow prevail and overcome. Men found that on the field of battle, women in child birth. Convel had found that point in jail and had let it control him. Later, he'd call it the red thing in his belly, and it had taken control of him and he had succumbed to it.
Blood ran dripped from where the manacles had broken skin, and slowly ran down his back, going into his kilt. The hunting tartan was dirty from several days in prison, but Convel made no notice. He was stalking the people on the inside of the prison like a wolf watches a sheep cower inside firelight.
"Beidh mé a mharú deireadh thiar sibh go léir, agus cuirfidh mé tú ag fulaingt le haghaidh an indignities déanta agat dom a chur anseo ag fulaingt. Consider yourselves lucky I'm nae choking ye right now. Ye, however," Here Convel turned to look through the girl's soul with his blue eyes, "shall have a relatively quick death, on account of your gender."
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Talon
Novice
iz not wut u think
Posts: 36
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Post by Talon on Jun 12, 2010 22:18:51 GMT -5
This was getting to be too much of a show. The last thing Capio wanted was for this to get out of hand. A crazy prisoner gave no answers. An angry beast the size of Convel would rot in this cell. Capio didn’t know if that was justice at this point, knew nothing of this man’s case or why he was here. All Murtagh had given him was treason, but the rider highly doubted that was the real problem. He knew it was rash and somewhat uncalled for, but Capio needed to know what the Empire was charging this man for. So instead of calling for a guard or getting straight answers from Murtagh the rider reached out with his mind. He pondered attacking Convel’s own shriveled brain then and there, but decided against it. Instead he entered the mind of the guard and dug out the information from there. Capio was careful, choosing the sleeping fool not far away. As far as the guard would know he was dreaming when someone looked through the charges for Convel. Hmm, thirteen counts of cattle theft…three counts of horse theft…ten assaults…twelve counts of insult to gentlemen and of rebellion…and five counts of murder.
Now this was no simple matter. All of these were incredibly high charges. The thefts alone would maim this Convel for life. Not by flogging but by simply taking the dominant hand of this man. Now Capio did not know the full extent of the famine, but he had heard whispers in his short time back and seen signs of the quick flight back. So the thefts became a very serious matter for the rider. Those cattle were food for the people of the Empire; those horses were for his soldiers. Lives had been endangered by assault, shaky terms with nobles could be hurt from insult…and worst of all this foreigner had murdered five different citizens! Capio had no more remorse for this Convel now; he would keep him rotting in this cell if he could. Focusing his anger into a calm collected mind the rider broke away from the guard’s mind and came to observe Convel. He felt Arwen’s eyes on him and heard her snarky words but he batted such things away like a pesky fly. Such a child…nothing he could do about it right now. Capio would simply talk with Murtagh about it later.
More words were spoken sternly between Murtagh and Convel. Capio backed off, letting the rider of Thorn deal with this problem as was his duty. However nothing changed and still this Convel drawled on singing and speaking in his foreign tongue. Capio was desperately trying to keep a hold on his racing mind. Should he get too angry and not stay calm Anira would wake up. If anything that would infuriate Capio even more. He had dealt with murderers before, so it was a simple matter to deal calmly with them. But if his dragon’s comfort was interrupted because of this Convel…well then it would be personal. Capio would take off the hand of this thief himself. Now the rider listened more carefully, because this explanation seemed of imporatance. Capio had given up on Murtagh by this point, now he had to step in and try to get a handle on the situation. He was just so tired…the journey had been so long and now his simple task from before had transformed into a much more taxing duty. The rider was not fit for this at the moment.
So this Convel was Alban. Capio knew then and there they were not dealing with treason. That had never mattered to the rider anyways. Here he thought Alagaesians were weak cowards, pathetic. This Convel needed to meet Pravus…remembering his brother brought pain to Capio’s eyes. They were estranged now and he didn’t feel like dealing with that at the moment, so he quickly wiped away the image of Pravus and focused on Convel, the spark of anger in his eye. As this red-headed giant began speaking of death as a release Capio knew execution would not be the answer. No, special treatment was reserved for thieves and murderers. And it was not a quick escape like death. Then even as this giant raged he strained against the chains binding his arms. Capio ground his teeth together and put a hand on the pommel of one of his twin blades. It was a natural reaction for the rider, Convel had a fighting fire in his eyes, and Capio was already getting ready for battle.
Then even as the chains broke and Convel yelled out Capio felt a flicker of another mind within his. The familiar and very welcome presence of Anira. And then a mighty roar from the heights of Uru’baen shook even the depths of the dungeon. Anira’s cry was filled with anger and held a warning for Convel. Capio could feel the rumbling of her growl within his head even as he knew that she had taken to the sky. Anira could feel Convel’s eyes on her as clearly as Capio could watch the man staring him down from behind the gates. Too long the rider and dragon had been in danger of late and they were incredibly touchy to any perceived threat.
Who is this man that threatens you even as chains dangle from his fists? I will tear him apart should he try and get near! [/color] You know as well I that you no longer fit down in the dungeons. I can handle this.[/color] Then drag him out into the open where I can bury my claws into that freakish red head of his![/color] Yet another mighty roar was let loose as Anira raged. Capio had to smile; his dragon was usually not so angered by such small acts. However, as of late, both Capio and Anira despised being apart from one another especially in face of a threat. After several near tragedies in their last mission they were never apart. Anira would have been her normal calm self, had Capio been within eyesight. But no, her rider had to be down in the dungeons right now where she couldn’t get at the fool that threatened him. Capio was simply glad to have Anira’s voice in his head. He could handle this, but she would be mad at him later on, and Capio was now furious that Convel’s actions had woken Anira. She needed her rest right now, he could feel the fatigue in her wings as clearly as he felt the cramped feeling in his legs. So the rider’s clear blue gaze stared back at Convel, refusing to show even a glint of his true anger. He seemingly ignored the broken chains. Instead he drew close to the bars of the cell, daring Convel to try something, even as he crossed his arms across his chest, hands now further from his swords. “I am not here to speak about treason you foul-breathed Alban”[/color] It really was disgusting by this cell, smelled of vomit and whiskey still lay heavy on the giant man. “I am here to get an answer from a thief charged with thirteen counts of cattle theft, three counts of horse theft, ten assault charges, twelve accounts of insult…and dare I say five counts of murder?”[/color] Capio’s eyes narrowed his stern voice remaining calm in the face of the raging red-head. The rider was only slightly shorter, and so he angled his head just so that he could look the man in the eye without having to truly look up at him. “Those are steep charges under any rule, Alban or Alagaesian. Since you are a foreigner not held by our law we can do whatever we damn well please with you. So consider yourself lucky for even getting this interrogation. We were under our rights to simply take your head the minute you put your foot on Alagaesian soil. You are no free Alban here in our land. So speak in your defense or rot.”[/color] A growl resounded in Capio’s head once again. Anira was still flying high above his position. The rider did not reach out to her at the moment, she was still too frustrated about not being able to go into the dungeons and stand by her rider.[/size][/blockquote]
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phrostphyre
Junior Member
I'm the Rascal King.
Posts: 120
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Post by phrostphyre on Jun 13, 2010 15:41:15 GMT -5
The sight of Capio stand with his hands nowhere near his blades sent Convel into a berserk rage, with the red thing in his belly filling him and urging him to commit an actual murder. He roared a challenge at the Rider while dashing forward, chains clinking. His arms would have gone through the bars of the door, but the bars were spaced too close together. The only thing Convel saw was Capio, with red obscuring everything else. Fists crashed against the cell door, while obscenities, Gaelic and English, left Convel's mouth in an un-ending roar of anger and rage. Pain didn't matter to the man in the cell. The only thing in the world that counted was getting through the door to kill the three people standing outside his cell.
His massive body crashed against the door again and again, destroying what was left of his shirt. Blood began to fall from the hairy chest, as skin broke open. Flogging scabs that had been healed over opened up again. His roaring became incoherent, just one long bellow of pain and anger to long suffered and now coming to the fore-front. The only thing Convel heard was the word 'kill' in English and Gaelic. Vengeance was the only thing he knew, or cared about at that moment.
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Talon
Novice
iz not wut u think
Posts: 36
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Post by Talon on Jun 13, 2010 17:26:57 GMT -5
Capio might have looked completely at ease. Sure his hands were further from his blades, but this was a ploy he commonly employed against the enemy. Having his arms crossed was actually a step closer to drawing his blades. After all, the blade used for his right hand was on his left hip and vice versa. So the rider made it a practice to cross his arms and appear non-threatening, when he was, in fact, preparing to fight as soon as he made the move. It worked incredibly well for him. However Capio wasn’t so sure he was ready for the explosion that erupted before his face.
The rider was fazed but that didn’t slow down his reaction in the least, his nerves were still high strung, set in survival mode. His hands moved automatically and he had the twin blades in hand while Convel was still rushing forward. The orange blades glimmered hungrily in the light and Capio could feel his muscles tense as he nearly lunged forward to strike then and there. This Convel was a threat and Capio’s stressed brain could only think of removing it. Then the giant man crashed into the bars, his arms too big to fit through the bars and Capio snapped back to attention. No, he wasn’t in Vroengard, he was not about to die. This was a prisoner behind bars, he was safe. Anira disagreed and he could feel her anger welling even as the stream of obscenities carried throughout the dungeon. Her uneasiness along with his previous willingness to fight kept him on edge. Capio was surprised he hadn’t tried to kill Convel yet. The rider did not have the berserker rage but his eyes held a cool look of a recent survivor. Capio would do whatever was necessary to remove a threat that was what his mind was telling him. It took extreme willpower to subdue this notion and for a long while the rider simply stood there, completely still, as the red-haired Alban crashed against the door and bled.
It was then that Capio knew what he had to do. He had to give this Convel what he requested. Death. A release into his own personal hell. This Alban was a berserker, a wild thing that would cause more damage to the guards and himself if he was imprisoned. It would be better for everyone if he simply killed the man. That was it then. Capio would not wait for Murtagh’s go ahead, Convel would die now before he killed himself. The rider approached with a smooth calm, a snake ready for the sure strike of death. Even now the Alban’s words became incoherent and the man bleed profusely, his shirt now ruined from the force of each strike. Capio held his right blade steady, and prepared to strike.
“What in blue blazes do you think you’re doing you lanky dull-headed moron?!?”
[/color] Capio turned in shock, his eyes going wide as his face finally registered something other than calm. His blades automatically returned to their sheaths as he straightened from his fighting stance and turned to the side to stare at the behemoth headed his way. Pravus? ----------------------------- Dressed in full armor and with a stern look in his eye it was indeed Pravus. His red eyes were staring down his younger brother as he approached the cell. The older brother had heard much of what had been said. He had been waiting in the wing, waiting for his time to come in and let these fool riders know what he planned to do. Pravus knew all the charges held against this Convel and he had heard his soldiers speak of this berserker with words of fear and shock in their eyes. Naturally the captain was curious; saw someone perhaps worthy of his own skill. Now here was his foolish younger brother, about to strike down a caged man. That was no way for a true warrior to go out. Pravus did not carry his shield or his sword. His helmet was also removed and he carried it carefully. Dumb riders were getting in his way, and now he had to confront his brother. “Pravus? But what are y…”[/color] Capio’s words came out confused and shaky, he had not spoken with, or even seen, his brother since Anira had hatched for him. But Pravus cut off his words; this was no time for a reunion. There was a good strong man about to kill himself against the bars of the cell. “I am doing my job. Both as a captain and your older brother. Keeping you from doing something incredibly foolish.[/color] Without further explanation Pravus handed his helmet to Capio, who took it with a confused stare and then marched right on over to the jail cell, keys in hand. Then before Capio could react Pravus unlocked the door and flung open the door. He was hit full in the chest from the giant man. This was why he had worn the armor. Never underestimate a berserker. After all, Pravus needed to reason with the man, calm him down so he could speak with him man to man. Now the orange haired captain was not as tall as Convel, but he was bigger. His muscles built with a bit more strength instead of the hint more speed Convel seemed to possess. Still he stumbled slightly from that first ramming. Pravus pushed forward, taking the place of the door and still stomaching the hits making sure to protect his face at any chance. He flung the keys to Capio and slammed the door shut behind him. He would not chance this raging Convel to escape. Pravus was impressed by Convel’s strength as he absorbed the hits. It had been a long time since he’d seen a punch thrown that hard, he had to keep on his feet. Especially while the Alban was in berserker mode. Pravus said nothing, but knew he would have to stop this man from hurting himself. Already there was blood on the captain’s well shined armor. Hoping that the weakened state Convel had been in before would help him Pravus tried to restrain the man’s arms. Grabbing at the red-haired man’s wrists to hold them steady and let the Alban calm down. The effort resulted in a hard hit to the face, but it was worth getting the man to a stage where Pravus could talk with him. But man did his jaw smart from the hit; he could taste blood in his mouth. This Convel did not disappoint. ------------------------- At first all Capio could do was stare in amazement as his brother charged into the cell and took the hits. It was a feat Capio would never be able to accomplish and he felt a sense of pride and wonder as the two giants crashed into each other. But then he felt a tug at his mind, even as he gripped the cell keys and his brother’s helmet. It was Anira, but he did not feel her anger, he felt sick to his stomach and dizzy. Then, to his shock and horror, he felt his dragon falter. She was incredibly disorientated and her flight stalled…something that had not happened since she was a hatchling learning to fly. Anira![/color] His mind called out, trying to reach her and steady her. She did not respond. Instead she drifted shakily to the balcony the quarters he shared with Capio. Her head was dizzy and pounded with a severe headache and it spread to her rider. Capio clenched his head with both hands, dropping the helmet and keys with a loud crash. He gasped and then slid down the wall to the ground as he tried to steady his dizzy head. And then, as Anira landed, the dizzy spell faded away just as quickly as it had come. The journey back…must have been more taxing than I thought…[/color][/size][/blockquote]
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phrostphyre
Junior Member
I'm the Rascal King.
Posts: 120
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Post by phrostphyre on Jun 13, 2010 18:46:12 GMT -5
Instead of a door with bars there was now a large mass of steel in front of him. Beyond the steel, Convel could still see Capio, standing there holding a helmet, surrounded by a red mist. Now, instead of a voice inside telling him to kill, there was one telling him to calm down. Convel ignored the voice, continuing to rush at the steel with his entire body, ignoring the blood coming from his back and chest. His kilt was wet with blood, both dried, drying, and fresh. Growing tired of beating itself to death against the steel, Convel's mind grew cunning with berserk rage. He stopped, threw a punch and at the jaw of the man, but it was a feint and tried to slip beneath his arm. A steel-clad knee to the stomach showed Convel the futility of fighting the large mass of steel in front of him. Stepping back, he stopped fighting and stood against the wall of his cell, glaring at the steel.
"Let me kill the coward behind ye and I'll nae try to hurt ye." The voice that spoke was hoarse with yelling and bellowing, and not the voice of a gentleman, which Convel usually was. It was deep and growling, like that of a wolf about to spring for the throat. Convel's eyes still saw only Capio, the steel wall, and the red mist, but the red mist had started to retreat a bit. The voice telling him calm down had been silenced, and the only thing Convel heard was breathing and water dripping.
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