Serion's Nightmares

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roleplaysbyjake
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Joined: Tue Jun 12, 2018 4:49 pm

Serion's Nightmares

Post by roleplaysbyjake » Wed Mar 27, 2019 4:58 am

When they first decided to train him, he was sprawled out face-first to the ground. His fingers scraped in to the sand. Having been a thin and lithe being of an elf, his body had been littered with bruises, welts and purple that looked painful to the touch. The muscles flexed slightly upon his arms as he tried to get up with a soft groan, his mouth already bleeding from the side. His breathing was heavy and shallow. It looked like the pressure to succumb to gravity surrounded him, as well as the fact that he'd probably had a few broken ribs. When he'd risen to his knees, the whip lashed out.

The slaver dragged the marks out against his knees until he gasped. Several slapping noises upon skin, scars and welts forming and he found himself easily drawn back to the floor. His gaze, burning with hatred, he ended up crawling along the path of the pits .. In the heated desert sand, straight to his mother who lay on the floor, unconscious. His throat tightened as he saw what had happened to her. Her hair was strewn across the ground awkwardly, strands of it in whisps as it had been tugged. What would his father have done, he thought to himself. What would he have done had he seen her like this? His grip clenched upon the floor, into fists, as the answer was plain as day. But there was not a sword to pick up, a stick to swing. Not even a bow. His hatred burned bright, enough that the sun that shone upon him glistened through his tears. Laughter echoed from the slaver, who only uttered one phrase. "Did I say you could rest? Get back to fighting, boy." The shadow of a Minotaur then loomed over him.

When he awoke, he wondered why he'd been crying.

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