Post by Spwack on Jun 3, 2012 4:41:24 GMT -5
Part I: Tribulation
"So then, how do you feel?"
Cracking first one, then both eyes open, he peered at the underground chamber. The stone walls were uneven, damp and cold. Innumerable quantities of esoteric equipment were scattered across the room. He was being questioned by an old man, stooped, covered head to toe in a green robe. He tried to answer, but his lips were stuck together. Bringing over a damp cloth, the wizard brushed his lips with it, breaking the seal. The man on the wooden bench snapped at the cloth, biting thirstily into it. A small trickle of water ran down his parched throat, and he sat back with a sigh. "I suppose... I have been better." Looking around with more curiosity, most of the strange mechanisms on the floor were humming with power. A glass orb on the end of a metal arm appeared to be peering at him, a severed creeper eye swiveling round for a better look. He shuddered. He had no recollection of coming here. No recollection full stop. He was alone.
Spwack Cadmium sat back, looking at the patient. He had collapsed on his doorstep a few days ago, one arm hanging by a thread, screaming about fire, ice, and something or someone called Red. It had taken most of his power, and several days full of screams, but he would probably regain full use of his left arm. He would bear that scar forever, as shards of dark magic were trapped within.
The man on the bench, bereft of any memories, looked at himself. He was in a white coat, with a name stitched on the lapel. 'Dr. Sameth Mecr.' Well, he had a name now, at the very least. Looking at the doctors smock itself, it was covered with blood, not all of it his own. Glancing at a sheet of polished glass, his dull brown hair was matted with blood as well. A white shape appeared in the mirror, but was gone before his blue eyes could register. His left arm was not so much painful, as humming, and numb. The jagged stitching began to bleed, and he could feel his heart begin to slow. He lay back, incredibly tired. The ramshackle monitor next to the bench began to chime.
Not realising the risks inherent with surgery, Spwack had woken his patient too early. His vitals seemed stable, after an infusion of blood substitute and magic, but he needed a proper doctor. Someone like Lu... No. Those days were past. Perhaps when Mecr woke he would know what to do.
It took most of the next week till Sameth could walk. He kept his left arm in a sling, and it appeared to be healing. He knew little about magic, but remembered enough to keep out of Cadmium's way when he was in full swing. It made his arm hurt, whenever the laboratory was buzzing with power. He helped when he could, but once Spwack pronounced him fit to travel, he prepared to leave. "Where will you go?" questioned the mage, rightfully so.
"I don't know. Maybe that is what I am trying to find out." With that, he bade the wizard farewell. "Goodbye, Dr. Mecr..." Pondering the fate of the amnesia struck man, he went back downstairs. There was science to be done.
Part II: Crusade
Mecr sat on the dirty wooden box, the handful of coins he owned jingling quietly in his hand. His doctors apron was no free of blood, but covered in dirt instead. He had taken two boats and walked the rest of the way to Rull. Hoping to find his memories. A better life there. Anything. Instead, he had found cold, squalor, and more than comfortable levels of dangerous and hideous creatures. It was early morning, but people were starting to move about. A young, scruffy boy was crying, begging people for help. They all ignored him, pushing past, around, over under. Anything to get him out of the way, so they could continue with their peaceful, calm, sterile lives. The boy dropped an iron dagger, rusty and dented, but he ignored it. Mecr was fascinated by it. The way light glinted of it. How the shadows fell. The razor edge, keen to cut through flesh. In a slight daze, he walked over and stooped to pick it up. The young child clung to his arm, recognizing the doctor's outfit. "P-p-please sir" he blubbered "It's my f-father. He was crying out. With a f-f-f-fever. But now he is quiet. Please help me." He stared at Mecr, with deep, solemn eyes. Mecr straightened. "Well, I better go look at him then.
In the dark, dingy, squalor of the house, Mecr strained to see the boy's father. The mother, a timid women, lit a dirty lantern, which cast more shadows than light. But it was enough. The man was shaking, clearly fever-struck. What ever the fever was trying to cure, it was burning him up. "When did this start?" He queried, not looking at the mother. "A few days ago. He came back, after patrol. He had been scratched by a zombie, but he said it was nothing..." Peeling back the shirt covering the shoulder, Mecr could see a jagged wound, oozing pus. It stank, and gangrene was setting, made worse by the filth on the zombies claws. "Quickly! I need a knife!" Checking his pockets, he came across the dagger dropped by the boy. He snatched up a stone, and set to clearing the worst of the rust. Ordering the woman to light a small fire and boil some water, he began cutting away the diseased tissue. It bled very little a bad sign. Pus dripped onto the floor, mixed with watery blood. Half-rotted flesh fell as well, landing with an evil sounding splat. But Mecr was in his element. He remembered doing things like this. In a huge room. Dark. Sterile. With state-of-the-art equipment. Specialised mages at the ready. To contain the...
"There. It is done." The wound was bleeding slightly, but the man had stopped shaking. It was really just a small amount of flesh that was taken out. With one gore-soaked hand, he made to hand back the dagger. The boy recoiled, partly in disgust, but mostly in awe. This man had come in, out of nowhere and saved his fathers life. Mecr shrugged. He instructed the mother to bind the wound, then left.
Sameth Mecr become something of a hero, albeit a strange one. Whenever someone was badly injured, or had a serious sickness, he would come in, do what needed to be done with his old, battered knife. Then leave, taking no payment. People came by occasionally, to his abode near the docks, leaving gifts of food, or clothing. Others stared at his doctors apron, fear and hatred in their eyes. Perhaps that's why no doctors were present in the city, he mused....
Part III: Revelations
"UNACCEPTABLE!" The General smashed his immense fist down, nearly snapping the priceless mahogany table. The secretary huddled down, fearful of the old man. "I WANTED MECR TERMINATED, NOT REMOVED!" The secretary huddled further down. She had changed the command, not believing the general would remember. Wrong. But then he sat back, suddenly tired. "Bring coffee. And the potion master." The secretary hurried out, trying to figure out how to fix this mess. She supposed the rogue team could get past the Guardians, but not without making a ruckus. That could lead them back here. And then... she shuddered.
It would have to be Red.
She tapped several runes embedded onto a bracelet. They turned bright orange, and hammering could be heard as troops took up positions. The temperature in the corridor was perfectly balanced, but the secretary still shivered. She had made this mess. And now Red would be cleaning it up.
Deep within the bowls of the facility, alarms were sounding. A solid steel chamber within a massive chamber was the center of the disturbance. Over 100 archers were lined up on the balcony. At one word, they would pepper everything in the chamber, including the secretary. Knights, centurions, mages, priests and one huge dreadknight surrounded the steel chamber. Each of the mages unlocked one of the heavy-duty death charms, shivering as about 6 months were sucked away. Then the priests moved in, unlocking the thick chains of curses and hexes. Finally, the dreadknight and two centurions moved in. The centurions yanked open the central container, the dreadknight reached in, and dragged out the occupant. Planting one steel boot on Reds chest, the broadsword, humming with awful power was inches away from Reds neck. They knew the drill. More than three words, and everyone died. The secretary was terse, as usual. "Find Dr. Sameth Mecr. Terminate. No trace." The mages moved in, implanting several runes. Some provided information on Mecr, the Guardians, notable individuals. Others allowed Red to be tracked any where. But the main one was an incineration pack. "Standard runes. If you run, you die. Understood?" Red grinned. It wasn't much of a question. The alarms sounded again. Red was re-chained with the hexes, while the specialised mages prepared the teleport. "If you can't do it, come back." In a strangled voice, Red spoke for the first time in several months. "As... if..." The teleport kicked in, and Red was whisked away. The hunt was on.
Red was used to this kind of treatment. This was the sixth mission so far. And the powers Red had been endowed with were enough to make up for the sacrifice of freedom. They had also been the loss of Reds sanity. But that had never stopped a mission before. As the wilds outside Rull materialized, Red stretched cramped and unused muscles. From the depths of the forest, a spider knelt, hungry for fresh blood. Before it could pounce, it stopped, shuddering. The arachnid fell over, still struggling. It's limbs continued to shudder, as blood slowly dripped out of one eye. Then it's entire body exploded in a burst of blood. Red slowly smiled, as the body slumped over. "I had forgotten what a lovely color blood is." Trying to stand up, Red fell over, muscles from captivity refusing to work. So, using telekenetic force, Red was flung to the other side of the clearing, catching onto a tree with one invisible arm. It would take a while for captivity to where off. Till then, Red would have to fly.
Several days later, in Rull
Dr. Mecr frowned over the latest case. He had moved into an abandoned house as an unofficial doctor. His current patient was a youngish girl, with no known parentage. She had been found outside Rull, near the disturbance. That particular battle had brought no patients do his door. There was no point. The girls wounds were easy to treat, and he wasn't sure why he was hesitating. He shook his head, trying to clear the memories trickling through. He had made a new life, he didn't need these tantalising fragments trickling through. After sticking up the worst wounds, and coating the rest with a herbal balm, he picked her up, noticing with unease how frail she was. Then, halfway down the corridor he realised were most of these memories were coming from: Hadn't he carried tired children down a hallway like this to bed? The young girl opened her eyes, sleepily looking at an incredulous Mecr. "Hello daddy," she murmured, before drifting back to sleep. Mecr didn't treat anyone else that evening.
So this was Lily. His daughter. Now that she was here, perhaps his other memories would come back to. With all the strife they were tied in with. Most of what he was getting back were shadowy, bloody memories. Battles that would soon catch up. Soon he would be leaving Rull, along with his daughter. He had no choice.
As soon as Lily was awake, she was summoned to appear before court. Despite being too weak to walk, she was questioned multiple times about the slaughter that had occured. All they had managed to get was: "A person. A person in Red..." and then she would start sobbing, and Mecr would take her away.
In the privacy of their home, Mecr asked Lily if she was telling the truth. She said a little more. "It was a lady. In red. But they said if I tell anyone, she would come and take me away..." Then she would start bawling. But it was worse when she stopped. She went blank, but continued shivering. She had experienced despicable things that night, events that no child should have to experience. And despite all that, we try and dredge up the memories...
Part IV: Boundaries
Part V: Curiosity
"So then, how do you feel?"
Cracking first one, then both eyes open, he peered at the underground chamber. The stone walls were uneven, damp and cold. Innumerable quantities of esoteric equipment were scattered across the room. He was being questioned by an old man, stooped, covered head to toe in a green robe. He tried to answer, but his lips were stuck together. Bringing over a damp cloth, the wizard brushed his lips with it, breaking the seal. The man on the wooden bench snapped at the cloth, biting thirstily into it. A small trickle of water ran down his parched throat, and he sat back with a sigh. "I suppose... I have been better." Looking around with more curiosity, most of the strange mechanisms on the floor were humming with power. A glass orb on the end of a metal arm appeared to be peering at him, a severed creeper eye swiveling round for a better look. He shuddered. He had no recollection of coming here. No recollection full stop. He was alone.
Spwack Cadmium sat back, looking at the patient. He had collapsed on his doorstep a few days ago, one arm hanging by a thread, screaming about fire, ice, and something or someone called Red. It had taken most of his power, and several days full of screams, but he would probably regain full use of his left arm. He would bear that scar forever, as shards of dark magic were trapped within.
The man on the bench, bereft of any memories, looked at himself. He was in a white coat, with a name stitched on the lapel. 'Dr. Sameth Mecr.' Well, he had a name now, at the very least. Looking at the doctors smock itself, it was covered with blood, not all of it his own. Glancing at a sheet of polished glass, his dull brown hair was matted with blood as well. A white shape appeared in the mirror, but was gone before his blue eyes could register. His left arm was not so much painful, as humming, and numb. The jagged stitching began to bleed, and he could feel his heart begin to slow. He lay back, incredibly tired. The ramshackle monitor next to the bench began to chime.
Not realising the risks inherent with surgery, Spwack had woken his patient too early. His vitals seemed stable, after an infusion of blood substitute and magic, but he needed a proper doctor. Someone like Lu... No. Those days were past. Perhaps when Mecr woke he would know what to do.
It took most of the next week till Sameth could walk. He kept his left arm in a sling, and it appeared to be healing. He knew little about magic, but remembered enough to keep out of Cadmium's way when he was in full swing. It made his arm hurt, whenever the laboratory was buzzing with power. He helped when he could, but once Spwack pronounced him fit to travel, he prepared to leave. "Where will you go?" questioned the mage, rightfully so.
"I don't know. Maybe that is what I am trying to find out." With that, he bade the wizard farewell. "Goodbye, Dr. Mecr..." Pondering the fate of the amnesia struck man, he went back downstairs. There was science to be done.
Part II: Crusade
Mecr sat on the dirty wooden box, the handful of coins he owned jingling quietly in his hand. His doctors apron was no free of blood, but covered in dirt instead. He had taken two boats and walked the rest of the way to Rull. Hoping to find his memories. A better life there. Anything. Instead, he had found cold, squalor, and more than comfortable levels of dangerous and hideous creatures. It was early morning, but people were starting to move about. A young, scruffy boy was crying, begging people for help. They all ignored him, pushing past, around, over under. Anything to get him out of the way, so they could continue with their peaceful, calm, sterile lives. The boy dropped an iron dagger, rusty and dented, but he ignored it. Mecr was fascinated by it. The way light glinted of it. How the shadows fell. The razor edge, keen to cut through flesh. In a slight daze, he walked over and stooped to pick it up. The young child clung to his arm, recognizing the doctor's outfit. "P-p-please sir" he blubbered "It's my f-father. He was crying out. With a f-f-f-fever. But now he is quiet. Please help me." He stared at Mecr, with deep, solemn eyes. Mecr straightened. "Well, I better go look at him then.
In the dark, dingy, squalor of the house, Mecr strained to see the boy's father. The mother, a timid women, lit a dirty lantern, which cast more shadows than light. But it was enough. The man was shaking, clearly fever-struck. What ever the fever was trying to cure, it was burning him up. "When did this start?" He queried, not looking at the mother. "A few days ago. He came back, after patrol. He had been scratched by a zombie, but he said it was nothing..." Peeling back the shirt covering the shoulder, Mecr could see a jagged wound, oozing pus. It stank, and gangrene was setting, made worse by the filth on the zombies claws. "Quickly! I need a knife!" Checking his pockets, he came across the dagger dropped by the boy. He snatched up a stone, and set to clearing the worst of the rust. Ordering the woman to light a small fire and boil some water, he began cutting away the diseased tissue. It bled very little a bad sign. Pus dripped onto the floor, mixed with watery blood. Half-rotted flesh fell as well, landing with an evil sounding splat. But Mecr was in his element. He remembered doing things like this. In a huge room. Dark. Sterile. With state-of-the-art equipment. Specialised mages at the ready. To contain the...
"There. It is done." The wound was bleeding slightly, but the man had stopped shaking. It was really just a small amount of flesh that was taken out. With one gore-soaked hand, he made to hand back the dagger. The boy recoiled, partly in disgust, but mostly in awe. This man had come in, out of nowhere and saved his fathers life. Mecr shrugged. He instructed the mother to bind the wound, then left.
Sameth Mecr become something of a hero, albeit a strange one. Whenever someone was badly injured, or had a serious sickness, he would come in, do what needed to be done with his old, battered knife. Then leave, taking no payment. People came by occasionally, to his abode near the docks, leaving gifts of food, or clothing. Others stared at his doctors apron, fear and hatred in their eyes. Perhaps that's why no doctors were present in the city, he mused....
Part III: Revelations
"UNACCEPTABLE!" The General smashed his immense fist down, nearly snapping the priceless mahogany table. The secretary huddled down, fearful of the old man. "I WANTED MECR TERMINATED, NOT REMOVED!" The secretary huddled further down. She had changed the command, not believing the general would remember. Wrong. But then he sat back, suddenly tired. "Bring coffee. And the potion master." The secretary hurried out, trying to figure out how to fix this mess. She supposed the rogue team could get past the Guardians, but not without making a ruckus. That could lead them back here. And then... she shuddered.
It would have to be Red.
She tapped several runes embedded onto a bracelet. They turned bright orange, and hammering could be heard as troops took up positions. The temperature in the corridor was perfectly balanced, but the secretary still shivered. She had made this mess. And now Red would be cleaning it up.
Deep within the bowls of the facility, alarms were sounding. A solid steel chamber within a massive chamber was the center of the disturbance. Over 100 archers were lined up on the balcony. At one word, they would pepper everything in the chamber, including the secretary. Knights, centurions, mages, priests and one huge dreadknight surrounded the steel chamber. Each of the mages unlocked one of the heavy-duty death charms, shivering as about 6 months were sucked away. Then the priests moved in, unlocking the thick chains of curses and hexes. Finally, the dreadknight and two centurions moved in. The centurions yanked open the central container, the dreadknight reached in, and dragged out the occupant. Planting one steel boot on Reds chest, the broadsword, humming with awful power was inches away from Reds neck. They knew the drill. More than three words, and everyone died. The secretary was terse, as usual. "Find Dr. Sameth Mecr. Terminate. No trace." The mages moved in, implanting several runes. Some provided information on Mecr, the Guardians, notable individuals. Others allowed Red to be tracked any where. But the main one was an incineration pack. "Standard runes. If you run, you die. Understood?" Red grinned. It wasn't much of a question. The alarms sounded again. Red was re-chained with the hexes, while the specialised mages prepared the teleport. "If you can't do it, come back." In a strangled voice, Red spoke for the first time in several months. "As... if..." The teleport kicked in, and Red was whisked away. The hunt was on.
Red was used to this kind of treatment. This was the sixth mission so far. And the powers Red had been endowed with were enough to make up for the sacrifice of freedom. They had also been the loss of Reds sanity. But that had never stopped a mission before. As the wilds outside Rull materialized, Red stretched cramped and unused muscles. From the depths of the forest, a spider knelt, hungry for fresh blood. Before it could pounce, it stopped, shuddering. The arachnid fell over, still struggling. It's limbs continued to shudder, as blood slowly dripped out of one eye. Then it's entire body exploded in a burst of blood. Red slowly smiled, as the body slumped over. "I had forgotten what a lovely color blood is." Trying to stand up, Red fell over, muscles from captivity refusing to work. So, using telekenetic force, Red was flung to the other side of the clearing, catching onto a tree with one invisible arm. It would take a while for captivity to where off. Till then, Red would have to fly.
Several days later, in Rull
Dr. Mecr frowned over the latest case. He had moved into an abandoned house as an unofficial doctor. His current patient was a youngish girl, with no known parentage. She had been found outside Rull, near the disturbance. That particular battle had brought no patients do his door. There was no point. The girls wounds were easy to treat, and he wasn't sure why he was hesitating. He shook his head, trying to clear the memories trickling through. He had made a new life, he didn't need these tantalising fragments trickling through. After sticking up the worst wounds, and coating the rest with a herbal balm, he picked her up, noticing with unease how frail she was. Then, halfway down the corridor he realised were most of these memories were coming from: Hadn't he carried tired children down a hallway like this to bed? The young girl opened her eyes, sleepily looking at an incredulous Mecr. "Hello daddy," she murmured, before drifting back to sleep. Mecr didn't treat anyone else that evening.
So this was Lily. His daughter. Now that she was here, perhaps his other memories would come back to. With all the strife they were tied in with. Most of what he was getting back were shadowy, bloody memories. Battles that would soon catch up. Soon he would be leaving Rull, along with his daughter. He had no choice.
As soon as Lily was awake, she was summoned to appear before court. Despite being too weak to walk, she was questioned multiple times about the slaughter that had occured. All they had managed to get was: "A person. A person in Red..." and then she would start sobbing, and Mecr would take her away.
In the privacy of their home, Mecr asked Lily if she was telling the truth. She said a little more. "It was a lady. In red. But they said if I tell anyone, she would come and take me away..." Then she would start bawling. But it was worse when she stopped. She went blank, but continued shivering. She had experienced despicable things that night, events that no child should have to experience. And despite all that, we try and dredge up the memories...
Part IV: Boundaries
Part V: Curiosity
