This is something I started a year ago when me and my former boss were having 'fights' with action figures I had bought and left in the office. This is actually a rebutal to his last attempt to 'kill' my character. It turned out so well that he suggested I take it farther and write a book. This is no where near perfect, and I have JUST come back to it to work on it some more. The names are unoriginal and other things are not compeltly thought out. I will except critical response, but keep it friendly. I have also started chapter 2, but this is chapter 1 and depending on what you all think I'll post chapter 2 later.
Many a moon passed, while the Goodly Knight, Collbo, dangled, tightly restrained a good 50 Double Arm lengths below the mouth of the Pit. He could easily escape, had he been at full strength, but the Evil Chaplain had fed him some crude barbaric concoction, that left him with only the minimal amount of energy to stay alive. The concoction must have had some magical properties, as it had been over 2 full Sun Passes since he had food or water. The concoction was either giving him his sustenance or it was taking the need for it, but he had a strong feeling it was the latter, if not he would surely be nearing death already. The one thing the evil concoction had not done was take away the pain. Every bone and muscle in his body felt as if the Gladiator King himself had beat, poked, and or cut each. The pain alone would have killed a lesser man, or at least knocked him unconscious, but he supposed this was another side effect of the Chaplains vile brew. One good thing the brew did for him, it seemed his captor thought it to be infallible, and with that thought, had not checked on Collbo in over 4 Sun Passes. This was a mistake, for the Brew did not take his thoughts, and those alone could wipe out an entire army of Chaplains. The desire to eat and drink had slowly grown the past few hours; he believed this to be the Brew weakening its hold. If he was right then Chaplain knew it was as well, and would be coming soon to either finish the job, or to shove more down his throat. Either way Collbo would have none of it. While the potion did not take his thoughts, it did somehow cut off his inner supply of magical essence. He was unsure if Chaplain knew of Magic, but because of the peculiar properties of the Brew, he could venture a guess that Chaplain knew about it, but only knew so much, which would be another mistake of the Chaplains, and hopefully his undoing.
Collbo was tired of this game he and Chaplain played. As children they were part of the same White Light training academy, both of them the last of their races, both of them outcasts to the rest of the Academy’s inhabitants. It was only natural that they bonded and quickly became friends of sorts, for no one is actually a ‘friend’ in the Academy. Years passed with each one using the other to gain positions and titles and rewards neither would have gained alone, but in the last stretch of training, Chaplain betrayed Collbo, giving him up after a mislead attack on an upper classman who had been harassing them both. According to the Academies Law, Collbo was branded a Failure, and sent to finish training with the rest of the Failures in the Forrest of Fail, while the Chaplain was branded a Traitor and banished to the outer plains.
For Collbo things went well. It turned out that the Failures may not have been funded by the council, or recognized for anything they ever did, but they were by far the better trained, in terms of Quality. Unknown to the Council, the Forrest of Fail held more secrets then anyone who had trained there would tell. All who did train and live there were bound by an intricate spell of death; so as to safe guard the Forests secrets.
For Chaplain, things only got worse. After only a year of Banishment, his home on the outer plains was ransacked and raised by a band of mythical beasts that only legends no longer told, and Him, knew the name of. In tales of these events sometime in the future, it is still unknown whether it was an act of Him that brought the attack, or sheer coincidence, for never again had the mythical beasts been seen or heard of. Homeless and battered, Chaplain began wandering the Outer Plains, only to find that it was as inhospitable a place as a place could be. He met and fought (winning some, losing most) many other outcasts, drifters, and countless other forms of life. After some time he began hating himself, his life, and those that set him on the path that he was on, including the one he believed to be responsible for it all, Collbo. So he began his journey searching for revenge. Only a year passed before he had enough mercenaries and vengeful outcasts to take the city of White Light. The cities militia put up a valiant fight, but Chaplain over whelmed them with sheer numbers and strength. Within a Sun Pass the city was captured and raised, it citizens becoming history in less than 24hrs. Due to distrust and hate among the Chaplains ranks he quickly became alone and powerless again, all of his generals and commanders leaving him for search of their own power and glory. This failure too was laid at Collbo’s feat. His anger and hate had grown to such an extent that his previous mental restraint was now gone. His need for revenge was now so overwhelming, his anger so deep, that he took the life of his few remaining faithful.
For months, even years he tracked Collbo, a few times getting close enough for a kill, but Collbo’s training and intuition always seemed to keep him alive, if just barely. This time however, things would be different; he had finally gotten Collbo in a winless situation. After bribing and blackmailing a few powerful men he finally came into possession of a powerful potion of Tormented Life. Its deadly magical properties made it banned in almost every city save a few of the darker ones, so finding it was all the more significant. Said to keep a strong man alive for at least fifteen sun passes, without the need for sustenance, and without taking his ability to feel the pain and torment inflicted upon him. It was the perfect revenge potion, and after 2 years he had finally been able to put it to use. The excitement of pouring the liquid down the captive Knights throat was almost too much to bear. He was lucky to not have spilled the entire bottle of the brew. Although there were two sides to the blade he now wielded. After all this time and effort he had never stopped to think what he would do when he finally had Collbo. Killing him was on the agenda but he wanted to make it worth his time and effort, but unfortunately even with all the time spent with the ruthless mercenaries, he had not learned a thing about torture. So now he sat and debated what to do next. It had been ten Sun Passes since he captured Collbo, but he still had not come up with anything. He had begun to think that maybe just leaving him in the Bottomless Pit was fun enough. He decided finally that he would wait until the last two days of the potions affect before he would finally kill the Knight, once and for all. He believed he would get most enjoyment out of letting Collbo think Chaplain had forgotten about him. With the head pounding thoughts finally put to rest Chaplain decided it was time for a quick nap before he ate his evening meal. Luckily for him the last things he dreamed were of good times past, with a family that no longer lived; from friends he no longer enjoyed, and with a woman he had long since forgotten.
A loud rumbling sound emitted itself from Collbo’s midsection. If he hadn’t been awake to hear where the noises came from, he would have screamed in fright, but he had been awake, and even though his stomachs protest brought forth a new wave of pains, it also brought with it a new wave of hope. He immediately closed his eyes and began inventorying all the power available to him. It was not much, and due to his condition he couldn’t use his full power if it was available, but it was enough to escape, and to hopefully put an end to the chase that had lasted too many Sun Passes. Every retched moment he spent in the Pit he had spent it thinking of escape, so it did not take long for his mind to draw up the best plan for the amount of power he had at his disposal. His first thought was whether or not Chaplain was waiting in silence, away, or asleep. His first spell was a shroud of thin mist, thin enough to be seen only by those looking for it, but thick enough to block every noise from within its grasp. This particular spell only required one spoken short word, its audibility was not of importance, for it was one of the few spells he knew that did not require a shout of sorts. His next spell was opposite. The next spell extended the thin mist up past the mouth of the Pit and reflected the sights above down to the user below, had he not been enshrouded in the Mist of Silence, his captor would have surely come running as it required him to speak as loudly as possible. If he had been in pain before, it was nothing compared to what he felt now. The shouting had revealed to him just how weak his muscles were. The sudden use of so many muscles, naturally led to what felt like hundreds of pulls, tears, and frogs, but he knew that he would be in a lot more pain before this day was over, and he knew it was necessary for his escape. From the reflection of the mist he could see Chaplain sleeping on a thin sleeping mat, in what looked like a camp of one. He had been worried before that Chaplain had somehow recruited a mercenary, but now he knew otherwise, as neither the mercenary nor Chaplain would have known to be hidden at this time, and judging by the size of the half eaten Dire Bear carcass not far from the camp fire, he was sure no one was out looking for food. He watched Chaplain for a long while, unsure if he was sleeping or just lounging, but a soft snore here and there and the steady rise and fall of Chaplains chest revealed his captor to be sleeping. Finally he began looking for whatever the rope that held him was tied to. It would be unwise to just cut the rope he was on, because he had no strength to clime the 50 Double Arm lengths up, neither was there anywhere to climb. The walls of the Pit were of a sheer very smooth surface. After only a moment he found the rope to be strongly tied to the trunk of a tree. Luckily next to the tree laid his gear. It was odd the Chaplain had kept his belongings, as none of it fit Chaplain, or was any use to him, but all of it would sell for a large plot of land. He croaked out a shout containing his next spell, untying the knot and using the tree as a make shift pulley to hall himself towards the mouth of the pit, all the while keeping his eyes on Chaplain through the Reflective Mist. The sound of the rope being pulled along the tree was luckily not loud enough to wake Chaplain, and after a short time, and a new notch in the tree, Collbo was finally once again on solid ground. Still bound he could do nothing but lay there on the ground, and at that moment, he was happy to do just that. Every moment that passed brought more hunger pains, and the more hunger pains he got, the more power he regained. This was lucky for him, because his next spell required a lot of it, enough so that he was unsure if he would survive casting it. Nevertheless he did, for he knew if he did not make his moves now, and Chaplain awoke, he would never make a move again. His final spell assembled him in his gear, doing so in a way that his half sheathed blade cut his bonds. Finally truly free, Collbo unsheathed his blade and stood there staring at its magnificent beauty, unable to believe he was holding his beloved weapon again. Reality quickly returned with a start, as Chaplain made a sleepy grunt and rolled over. Collbo stood stark still, and waited for a cry of alarm, but none came. Now, he thought to himself, now be the time for action. Even though it was his better judgment Collbo could not slay the evil being before him while it slept. He could not fight it now though, not in his current condition. Finally he decided to return the torment on to his captor. He took the rope at its end, now significantly shorter due to being cut, and tied it quietly and softly around Chaplains feet, and then the other end tightly around the trees trunk again. He knew that the length of the rope would only put Chaplain at 20 Double Arm lengths below the Pits edge, but he knew Chaplain did not have magical means at his disposal to escape. 20 Double Arm lengths were plenty. Something told him it still wasn’t enough though and after spotting a large boulder not far from the camp, he quickly came up with a new plan. Using magic he quietly and softly lifted Chaplain and the boulder of the ground, and began moving both towards the Pits opening. He lowered Chaplain in quietly and delicately, and after his feet disappeared from view, Collbo moved the large boulder over the hole, gently setting it down on top of the hole, and releasing his hold on Chaplain. He heard a barely audible roar come from the now covered hole, and new that Chaplain had finally awoken. This was good he thought as now he would be awake to think upon the error of his ways. He looked around the camp and began sifting through Chaplains bags, and storage, coming across many devices of death and destruction including the scroll and what was left of the bottle of Tormented Life. A brief look at the bottles instructions scroll revealed its maker and location. He now knew who he would pay a visit too first after leaving this area, but first he must quench his thirst and hunger, and the half eaten Bear seemed like it would do just that. So he sat and ate, happy to be alive, and listened to the ceaseless roars of muffled torment and agony coming from the covered Pit. It did not delight him to hear them, as he did not feel right for ending a life like so, he did not feel right ending a life at all, but Chaplains crimes to his fellow beings were too great, and numerous to go unpunished. Still he did not feel right. He decided that in a week’s time when he was done weeding out the Dark Mages who had concocted to evil potion, he would return; if Chaplain still lived, he would escort him to the closest bounty house, and let the ‘proper’ authorities take care of him. If not then he would no longer worry about it for he knew if he was not alive still, it was by His doing.
Side note Collbo is Collins (my last name) mixed with Rambo... Original huh? lol Also Chaplain was the job title of my old boss. I am just full of ideas..
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