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ruinations2018-06-20 05:47 pm
queensland) wrote in ruinations2018-06-20 05:47 pm
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(no subject)
They attacked in the night like thieves.
A more direct strike against a prestigious mage family would have spelled nothing but disaster even for the Zhentarim, whose numbers could have overwhelmed the guards on a more level playing field. Trickery was needed: it had to be an inside job with all of the wards and security systems taken down. It needed to happen quickly before any of their secondary defenses could spring up, before the old man Archibald could activate any secondary wards or, worse, might weave powerful enough spellcraft to kill them all.
The guards didn't manage to sound an alarm. The electrical systems died seconds after they did. A strong dozen of the most powerful the Zhentarim could offer - individuals proficient in magic and in tactical warfare - stormed the residence. In less than thirty minutes, the place was decimated, and they took their prizes. They struck with gloves laced with electric runes and powerful magnetics to be used to circumvent the magical circuits the family was known for, easily incapacitating them. Waver was struck down before he could barely get out of bed, held down while he heard the screams of his family as they, too, were indisposed. He was dumped near the bodies of his guards - his mentors, acquaintances, even his friends - before the world went dark.
He was beckoned back to wakefulness in a cage laced with electricity and runes, the strongest precautions against a mage like him. Even then, his wrists were bound - separated, though - with tight metal bands that disrupted his magical circuits. The room he was in was dark, lit only by faint neon lights that smarted when he looked too long at them. The most prominent sound was their buzzing and little else for a very long time.
Faintly, he could hear intermittent sounds coming from beyond the glass window in the corner of the room. It took him a while to perhaps realize they were the sounds of screaming and begging.
A more direct strike against a prestigious mage family would have spelled nothing but disaster even for the Zhentarim, whose numbers could have overwhelmed the guards on a more level playing field. Trickery was needed: it had to be an inside job with all of the wards and security systems taken down. It needed to happen quickly before any of their secondary defenses could spring up, before the old man Archibald could activate any secondary wards or, worse, might weave powerful enough spellcraft to kill them all.
The guards didn't manage to sound an alarm. The electrical systems died seconds after they did. A strong dozen of the most powerful the Zhentarim could offer - individuals proficient in magic and in tactical warfare - stormed the residence. In less than thirty minutes, the place was decimated, and they took their prizes. They struck with gloves laced with electric runes and powerful magnetics to be used to circumvent the magical circuits the family was known for, easily incapacitating them. Waver was struck down before he could barely get out of bed, held down while he heard the screams of his family as they, too, were indisposed. He was dumped near the bodies of his guards - his mentors, acquaintances, even his friends - before the world went dark.
He was beckoned back to wakefulness in a cage laced with electricity and runes, the strongest precautions against a mage like him. Even then, his wrists were bound - separated, though - with tight metal bands that disrupted his magical circuits. The room he was in was dark, lit only by faint neon lights that smarted when he looked too long at them. The most prominent sound was their buzzing and little else for a very long time.
Faintly, he could hear intermittent sounds coming from beyond the glass window in the corner of the room. It took him a while to perhaps realize they were the sounds of screaming and begging.
no subject
Waver glared back at the smile, legs tucked up on the chair and the plain wooden back of it a flimsy shield between them. His chest felt tight. If the goal was to make him feel crazy, they were all -- Devyn included -- doing a good job of it today. Maybe he was just tired.
He was very tired.
"No," he answered with a sigh, shoulders slumping. It sounded like defeat more than relief.
"I suppose that comes with a price too." Perhaps for both of them.
no subject
Devyn began to say something else, opening her mouth, and then she closed it. Slowly, she shook her head, and rose from her crouched position.
"I don't want to hurt you. I want to help. And yes, doing so also helps me. Is that really so bad?" She slipped on her shoes once more and took up her hair tie.
no subject
"Bad?" That sounded so... simplistic. And subjective.
"I guess not." He didn't elaborate. He didn't try to make more excuses or argue; perhaps he was actually taking the warning to heart. Perhaps he was just tired from yelling at her.
In the meantime, his eyes followed Devyn's movements as she put her shoes back on. "...Are you leaving?"
no subject
But in the moments that ticked by, the tension in her shoulders loosened. "Yes. I need to eat too, you know, unless you'd rather see me sit here and watch your food like an animal." And it would give her an excuse to calm her temper, to think of another avenue. To consider her options before she ran out of time.
Devyn pulled her hair back again. "I won't be long. Then I'll be back and I won't go anywhere." If nothing else, she would keep that promise. Let him see she at least tried.
She unlocked the door and slipped out, as silent as a shadow. The only sound was the locking mechanism behind her, and then she was gone.