[Quest] Oh, to Love a Brute (Carnasch, private)

[Crimson]

Continued from here ...

While the couple spoke about their travels, the strange weapon and note left behind, and other couple-like things, Carnasch and Philyra suddenly heard a reverberating BOOOOM outside their room. It seemed to have come from downstairs. It was an explosion to be sure, but how? Whatever their questions were, answers came no more than a minute later.

Several loud knocks threatened to break down their flimsy door. "Ay, it's me! Philippe!" Indeed, should Carnasch of Philyra open the door, the Jaedaxian tavern owner would appear. But the first thing either visitor would notice was the strong smell of sulfur and smoke that permeated the hallway and Philippe. "Damn, I'm so sorry for the intrusion. But somethin' burned and blew up near the bar -- don't worry! Nothing this old lady can't handle", he laughed and motioned at his tavern, "but I don't feel good lettin' you two stay here."

"The smell gets worst ... the damned alchemist cowson was showing some of the boys how to fend off vampires ... evidently, the stuff fends off customers too. Hurry up then! Get your things and meet me downstairs. You get your gold back, pah, just don't tell anyone about this ... incident, oui?"

Carnasch was the one who jumped up to the door when Philippe pounded on it. He nodded in agreement to getting his gold back, but the illegible note with Philippe's signature and the silvered dagger made him hesitate before he left the room with his things.

He stopped by the Jaedaixian with the to notes and the dagger in his hand and holding them up at head levels he asked, "What does this note mean? And whos silvered dagger is this, and why is there a man showing off about how to fend of vampires?"

The Vagaran knew there were supposed to be vampires here in Jaedaxia, that was why he had come in the first place, but he thought maybe it might be better not to let on that he knew until he knew Philippe's part in all of it. He waited for the man to answer, but kept one hand on the axe at his hip.

Philippe was about to answer the newcomer. He wanted to. Until, quite impossibly, the window behind Carnasch suddenly erupted as wood and glass was splintered and smashed, sending debris all over the room. Philyra managed to duck just in time behind the table. Philippe was overcome with the force and was thrown back.

And before Carnasch could spin around or duck or defend himself, two clawed fingers were already gripping him from behind, imbedding themselves into his chest. A growl of frustration, a giggle of delight, and Carnasch was taken, pulled from the room before him, and into the darkening sky.

[Carnasch]

(OOC: Sorry its taken so long to reply I havnt checked this thread in ages cuz I knew Philyra was to buisy to respond and hadn't realised that you had sepparated the threads.)

Carnasch was taken completely by surprise by the brutal entry through the window, and the sudden pain stabbing through his shoulders took the shock he felt and turned it to anger. Carnasch gripped at one of the clawed limbs holding him, triing to rest himself from its steely hold.

When one hand proved to weak to force it open, he brought his left hand up to try as well. It was at this moment that he realized he still held the silvered dagger and Philippe's note crushed in his hand. He stared at it for a moment, fighting through the loss of blood and his own stupidity of not remembering them earlier, and then he began stabbing at the offending limbs. Hard and fast, triing to do as much damage as possible by twisting the blade if he felt it bite the flesh.

[Crimson]

OoC: No I am sorry, we should've started a separate thread a long time ago

Carnasch could have started stabbing, had he been able to do so before the clawed fingers suddenly released him -- when he was already a long way over the Southern Quarter. From the distance, he could see the tiny lights and street lamps of Jaedaxia. The city was dark, its residents huddled together to brave the darkening ahead. And already, people were screaming -- including Carnasch -- who was now falling freely back down to Telath.

Ripping through the black clouds with astonishing speed, the Vagran flailed and attempted to catch anything to break his fall. Amazingly, he kept a firm grip on the silver-dusted dagger. The crumpled note, on the other hand, was lost as he trailed downward like a massive speck of dust in the night sky. Carnasch would have fallen, landed, and died, until something solid smashed into his back. His head naturally whipped back and he felt a firm crack ... and he faded into unconsciousness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was cold.

Carnasch realized this first before he felt the first tickles of consciousness drift back to him. He shivered, only to realize that he was naked. His flesh bit into cold stone. His hands, cold and numb, instinctively curled inward, his legs included, into a fetal position. Should he open his eyes, he'd see nothing. He could move, but darkness invaded all his other senses.

He was alone.

[Carnasch]

Carnasch did indeed open his eyes, and promply shut them again. After an indetermined amount of time, he opened them again; he was sure he wasn't blind, but he couldn't help but wonder. He slowly stretched one hand out if he could, and eventually got onto his knees and explored his suroundings. He called softly to the darkness to try and atract someones attention, though, hopefully someone freindly. He was concerned about his nakedness and the loss of his axe especially. He searched around himself looking for anything he might use instead, feeling at any walls he found and along the floor.

[Crimson]

Nothing.

Carnasch's hands felt cold, hard stone beneath him and traces of dampness where his naked form once was. But several moments into the search, the Vagran came up with some cloth which he recognized as his trousers and shirt. Before long, he found his axe, even the silver-touched dagger. But still, there was no light to guide him. And even as a large man groping in the dark, he was vulnurable to many things.

Suddenly, Carnasch heard a hiss which could have been translated as a sigh.

"Stop moving around", a voice came. It was raspy, but had a tinge of a foreign accent. It was male. His Charismean was not round, but was obviously sharper -- indicating maybe an elven heritage to the speaker. "I am trying to sleep here before I die. Just be glad you weren't tortured first before being stripped and used as plaything. Missa has a sadistic sense of humor ..."

[Carnasch]

Carnasch put his clothes on as he found them, tucking the silvered dagger into the front of his belt and keeping his axe in his hands. When the elven voice broke the silence the Vagaran whipped around to face the direction it came from. He relaxed slightly when he heard what the bodiless voice had to say, but never the less kept himself ready to defend himself, even if he could not see.

"Who are you?" he asked, the mountainous man started forward slowly, feeling gingerly with his feet, for the hurt individual. "Who is Missa? Where are we?" He continued till he found the other man, and then did what he could to help him, if he could.

[Crimson]

The voice sighed as Carnasch decided to lumber around, feeling and groping until he touched a wall. It was stone, rough, almost jagged. If he had run into the structure, cuts would've been expected. This was a pretty nasty prison, and situation, altogether.

"Stop moving will you?", he repeated, this time a little more breathlessly, "before you run me over ... now if you sit your big, lumberjack arse down ... and just let me ... catch my breath ..." There was a pause as the voice took in some long, ragged intakes of the cold, musky air. "You are in the chataeu ... their home. The Vampires." Another pause and the voice grew low, as if speaking about their captors would cost her more pain.

"Missa ... she is the youngest of the three. There is three of them. Two men, one woman." Another pause. "She brought you here some candlemarks ago. I don't remember ... I was too busy trying to die. ha ... ha ... she is a sadist ... likes to hear her slaves scream. I was once her slave ... but I became useless after being cut too deep during one of her games ..."

[Carnasch]

Carnasch finally did as the other person bade and 'sat his big arse down'. He sat crosslegged, and laid his axe across his lap. While the man talked, he thought about the 'attack', if you could call it that, it had been more like, well it had been to easy for the vampire.

He remembered that he'd been dropped, and he wasn't sure from how high, but he did remember that something had broken. He didn't believe it had been him, he didn't hurt at all. He checked himself anyway, absorbed in his own thoughts and only paying passing attention to what the elf was saying.

He remembered everything the elf said despite his distraction but his thoughts were cleanly cut off when the elf started talking about playing games. Apparently they were painful, and quite deadly. He asked, "What kind of games?"

[Crimson]

"Oh fun games, I suspect", the elf replied then chuckled bitterly, "she is a perverted, sadistic little whore. But, why believe me? I was only her 'favorite' dark elf for, what, a cycle? Then she got bored one brightening and decided that cutting off my fingers would ease her boredom. And --" There was a rattling sound outside. Carnasch heard it from his left side. Even in the thick darkness, the vagran could almost 'sense' his surroundings ... from the cold, to the dense, stench-filled air inside the stone prison.

Suddenly, a blast of light hit the room -- causing Carnash's vision to erupt in white nothingness. By the time his eyes adjusted, however, he saw that there was a door leading tot he rattling sound of metallic keys and chains on his left. The light came from a slit that could be slid from side to side to allow whomever was outside to view the inside of the cell without having to unlock the door in its entirity.

"You", came a low, gruff voice. A dark silhouette emerged from the slit. "You, barbarian", he went on, obviously refering to Carnasch. "Get your dumb arse up and put your hands through here", there was some more shuffling of chains and keys before another rectangular slit opened beneath the first. "Hurry up before the Lady loose her patience ... and she's not very patient, I tell you that. NOW!"

"You better get on", the dark elf said weakly, "there is only death here in the cell. If the cold doesn't get you, the overfed rats will ..."

[Carnasch]

The Vagaran's eyes burned when the door opened, and he had to shut them tight for a while to make it stop. After his eyes adjusted he looked to the guard and listened to his demands, and at first would have been quite content to simply sit himself down near the furthest wall from the door and stay there.

But curiousity made him want to know what was in store, even if it was painful or deadly, he still wanted to know. While he was triing to make a decision he slowly stood, and paced his way to the door. When he got there he decide to go along with the guards request, but with one little twist.

Instead of sticking his hands through the lower slit, he slid the haft of his axe through the upper one, aiming for the arrogant guards overlarge nose. Almost as quick as he had put it through, he pulled it back out, put it on his belt and said, "My arse is not so fat as your head you scum." After then he slowly slid his hands through the bottom slit and allowed himself to be cuffed.

[Crimson]

It was interesting how Fate worked. Perhaps Carnasch was simply a barbarian by nature, or the guard was just too drunk to notice. But for whatever reason, the vagran's axe shaft pegged the obnoxious guard on the bridge of his nose. And within seconds, the guard on the ground, bloodied and unconscious. He was also stupid enough to have unlocked the prison door before cuffing the prisoner.

So, when Carnasch pressed his hand against the slit he was suppose to get cuffed at the heavy wooden door keeping him and his dark elf companion captive simply slipped ajar. Should the vagran take a peek outside, he'd find that the stone-made hallway had torches flickering in intervals of about twenty paces. And beside him and across from his cell was other, similar looking, cell doors.

"Looks like we're going to die sooner and in a less pleasant manner", the elf offered bitterly, "help me up here, hero, unless you were going to leave me behind ..."

With the flood of light from outside, Carnasch was able to finally see his cell mate. The dark elf may have been handsome once with his platnium hair, enoby skin, and exotic eyes; but now, he was reduced to a leg-less creature with a stump for his left hand. He half smiled, half spat while he flinched at the light that filtered into his corner of the cell. "Gah ... the one time I get lucky enough to escape and I got no legs for it ..."

[Carnasch]

Carnasch almost started laughing as he considered his luck. He turned to the elf for a second, then turned back to the guard and grabbed one grimy foot. With a heave he pulled the man in the room with them. Then he pulled the keys out and shut the door, but left the slots open so that they could still have light. He went to the elf then and scooped him up easily, ignoring any protests the decimated elf might have made.

Carnasch started back to the door, paused, took his axe out of his belt loop with one hand and whacked the guard over the head again just incase. Then he slowly opened the door and slipped out, locking it behind him. He went to the nearest door and opened the slot quietly asking if anyone was inside. He kept going till he found someone or all the doors were unlocked, if still closed.

If he found someone he passed the dark elf of to them, and told them to leave. If he didn't, well, he'd figure something out.

[Crimson]

There was a crack when Carnasch decided to let loose one more blow for good measure. Whether or not the guardsman would survive such a terrible concussion was up to the gods now; that, and the Lady of the labyrinth the Vagran and Dark Elf found themselves allied in.

With minimal effort, the massive man lifted his cell mate onto his shoulder. The lithe, legless, one-armed elf scoffed and managed a few more sarcastic remarks as they hurried out of the cell and locked it. Darting to the closest cell, Carnasch's inquiry was returned by another man who hurried rushed to the eye-level slot. A huge blue eye soon appeared from within the nearby cell, one that looked a lot larger than a human's.

"You bring Horace-ess foods?", he asked in a low, child-like voice.

"Oh gods", the dark elf moaned, "if you are going to leave me with Missa's mindless oaf could you at least knock me out and save me the agony?"

"Daeneck!", the 'mindless oaf' said excitedly, "Daeneck is that you!?"

" ... yes", the dark elf mumbled, "yes, but quiet down before you fething draw any more attention!"

"Sowwie ..."

Should Carnasch unlock the door, he'd suddenly find himself with a creature several heads taller than him and at least a good three times wider. It was a giant, or at least half of one. He had messy brown hair, wide eyes, a flat nose, and an involuntary smile that showed as much teeth as it did provide drool. He was dressed in rags that appeared to be stitched together. But that wasn't the worst part: the cell also stank heavily of urine .... which Carnasch could only hope did not come directly from the brute before him.

[Carnasch]

Carnasch took half a step back when the monstrousity behind the door was revealed. The half-giant smelled absolutely rank of piss, and seemed to produce enough drool for ten full grown bull mastiffs. This was made evident as it seemed to stream onto the floor... and Carnasch and Daeneck.

Carnasch jumped back to avoid further saturation, and said, "Horace, can you come out here?" He smiled widely hoping to encourage the giantling to be freindly, and continued, "I think I have a job for you... and you might get some food at the end. How does that sound?" He talked like Horace was a small child, not like he was stupid, not disrespectfully, just slowly with small easy to understand words. His voice sounded faulsly cheerful, and he repeated anything the poor half-wit didn't understand.

He kept smiling, and if the giant eventually came out, he asked him how he felt about Missa. After the giants responce,(and waiting long enough for him to calm down)wether it was to run and hide in his room, or to fly into some uncontrolled rage, he would ask if Horace would like to get back at her for all the mean things she had done.

[Crimson]

Horace barked gladly, like a puppy, as Carnasch let him out. The dark elf, however, seemed less pleased to see his less than intelligent friend. "Horace likes-ess foods!", he clapped loudly before jumping up and down in delight. "And Horace likes-ess doing stuffs!"

"Oh gods ...", Daeneck moaned, " ... gods kill me now ..."

But at the mention of Missa, the half-giant winced, as if Carnasch's question was a fiery whip against his abnormally thick skin. "No ... no ... me no likes-ess her ... no ...", he groaned, threatening to burst into tears, " ... you ... you going to tells her ...?" He sniffed and wrinkled his massive nose before wiping a single tear from his left eye.

Suddenly, Carnasch heard something behind him -- down the dark hallway. Footsteps. And the clicking of metal keys.

Someone was coming.