Verily, more than a moon's passing ere the arbiters of fate deemed fit to cast me into the abyss.
The Brotherhood was first bound to present me afore the judge, and he, in turn, would have rendered my sentence with leave of the city council. Yet, the Brotherhood falsified certain evidence, thus securing for me a ticket straight unto the netherworld.
The boundless abyss is the realm wherein the most fierce and ruthless miscreants from the entirety of Faleyn's dominion suffer their retribution. Long-deserted mines, in whose depths it hath become nigh impossible to extract ore, for deep beneath them, something truly terrifying hath stirred from a slumber long. Every prudent being seeks to shun those places, so as not to chance upon this madness. Some even proclaim that there, you begin to hear voices whispering in your mind, enticing you unto the very abyss, where the sun has not shone since the dawn of mankind. This abyss is no abode of correction, where they seek to mend and atone for sins. Oh nay, the abyss is a place of final judgment!
*******
And so, when the day of my long-awaited departure did at length reach me in the dungeon, Syrus arrived unlooked for. The halfling had not graced me with a visit until this day, and thus, his coming was most strange. Clad in the vestments of the temple, a bundle of cheese balls in his possession, he drew near with a tranquil stride. With a smile, he extended one sphere through the steel bars. "I thank thee, but cheese finds little favor with me," I declared, my head shaking, a smile playing upon my lips at the halfling's benevolence. He, in turn, raised his shoulders in a shrug, and, tossing a ball into his maw, spake unto me, saying, "Know that, were I in thy stead, I would not spurn the last fair fare I shall taste in this life." The halfling's tone altered at the close of his speech, becoming more somber. With a grasp upon the steel bars of the grate, he gazed upon me with sorrowful eyes.
"Seems like they don't serve Gryzardian pies down in the pit!" I weakly smiled, aware of the impending horror. I reached my hand through the iron bars and, using my pinky, beckoned for a single cheese ball. The halfling, with a wide grin, happily plucked another from his satchel and placed it in my palm. "They're better with a dash of sauce, but alas, the guards frown upon the stench of garlic," Cyrus said, absently scratching his sideburns with a hint of vexation.
"Ha-ha, well, don't be taken aback if the leader of the guard turns out to be a vampire!" I jestingly remarked, savoring the cheesy morsel. At this, Cyrus arched an inquisitive brow, a puzzled look in his eye, and inquired, "Are you familiar with Talion?"
"What! No, I have no acquaintance with Talion. I had something else entirely in mind. Wait, you mean the local guard's captain is truly a vampire!?" Now, genuinely taken aback, I stared at the halfling. "Indeed, the head of the local guard is a vampire, and not just any vampire – one who's seen three centuries pass. I hope he wasn't your nursery school tutor," Cyrus kindly informed, wiping his round spectacles with his brown cloak.
"No, he wasn't my tutor, but he was my potluck neighbor in daycare," I said with a solemn countenance, leaning against the cold stone wall. Cyrus and I locked eyes for a moment, then erupted into unbridled laughter. Clutching our bellies and doubled over with mirth, we shared a moment of pure hilarity. Wiping tears from his eyes, the halfling jovially addressed me, "So, you shared a potluck! Ha-ha, I hope you don't lose that sense of humor down here." He nodded in understanding. "And I hope that the next time we meet, it's in a place that serves fine victuals!" I said with a soft smile as I finished the cheese ball. Cyrus winked, grinning, and replied, "You can count on that. If you manage to endure and retain your wits, I shall treat you to the grandest tavern in town." Smirking, I pointed at him and said, "I shall hold you to that, old man! Just don't be astonished if I suddenly develop a hankering for Drake meat."
"Agreed, young one! By the way, I meant to caution you, not only about the pit's monsters but also about your fellow captives. And whatever you do, avoid ingesting anything from that accursed place. The corruption that enters your very soul from such fare will consume you from within. I cannot fathom how you'll survive five years without sustenance and drink, but you must if you desire to witness Aurora sipping curdled yak's milk with your own eyes!" The halfling disclosed, his voice tinged with bitterness, slowly retreating from my cell.
"Let me guess, you've both placed wagers on my demise? And Aurora seems to have bet that I won't return. Ha-ha, it appears it's best not to befriend lycanthropes," I said with a trace of bitterness, scratching my head.
"You are astute in that observation!" Cyrus concurred. Turning his back to me, he made his way towards the exit but paused just at the door to bid his farewell. "I nearly forgot, age is catching up with me. In any case, I bear news about your mother; she has mysteriously vanished." The halfling's diminutive hands clenched to the point of whitening, and he couldn't muster the strength to meet my gaze. His conscience tormented him, and he understood all too well that I might have been better off not hearing the news. But his sacred oath to Mitra compelled clerics to report such matters.
"Truly, I lament your fate, my friend," the halfling lamented as he departed the dungeon, leaving me in solitary communion with my inner demons. Overwhelmed by my despair, I struck the cold, iron bars with a fiery passion, inadvertently injuring my leg. Yet, my anger and rage shielded me from the agony. My soul ached far deeper than my fragile mortal form.
Seated upon the chained bed, tethered to the cold, stone wall, I clutched my head with an anguished spirit, my whispers echoing in the dim chamber. "By the Old God, where could you have disappeared to? I had forged an accord, the debt would have been honorably discharged, and you would have found sanctuary within a sacred haven. Mother, why is it that every time I approach to extend my aid, you cast aside all the goodness within me? Corax would never have harmed you, nay, he had doubtlessly received his coin. Knights uphold their oaths, yet there are those blinded souls who can shatter them. You merely fled, without so much as a farewell to your son. Ha-ha, at least, I have discerned that perhaps your torments did not haunt you so."
As I gnashed my teeth in smoldering rage, I sought to quell the tempest within, whispering to myself, "Mayhaps she has fallen into dire straits? Or perhaps some malevolent force has abducted her? And she indeed stood in dire need of my aid!" But alas, a fresh surge of fury overcame me as the notion that all this while she may have feigned infirmity assailed me. Every coin spent on those costly sedatives was naught but a squander. My mother had transformed into a monster no less perilous than the denizens of this world.
With a resounding cry, I repeatedly struck the unyielding stone wall, reciting the verses from the tome my father had bequeathed as my sole inheritance: "In the depths of the human heart, trust may wither and crumble, for within it resides both the luminance of promises and the shadow of treachery. Place not thy faith in human frailty, but fortify thy belief in the unwavering constancy of thy Creator, the singular sanctuary where trust shall never wane." These words blazed in my mind like the undying light in the darkest of nights.
After smoothing my disheveled hair and drawing a deep breath, I composed myself as the guardians arrived. In but a short span, they finally beckoned for me. Enshrouded in shackles, the guardians led me to the towering edifice, from whence I would be cast into the abyss.
*******
The portal hath whisked me away, yoked with the guardians, to a realm unknown – a mystical forest. Towering trees veiled the heavens, and enchantments ran wild through the air. It did verily make my head spin. This forest was teeming with life, for goblin tents dotted the landscape, and aloft in the treetops, elven sentinels kept watch. Ere I could take in the full scope of the wood, I was yanked forth by my chain, bidden to move onward.
The goblins sneered, baring their fangs, reveling in their cruel jests at my expense. As we advanced, a company approached, comprised of a brace of elves and several hobgoblins, among them a towering knight clad in gleaming, white armor.
Firmly opposed to us, the group yielded the path to the sturdy knight who seemed to be their captain. He drew nigh to the satyr who held the chain binding my shackles.
At close quarters, the knight appeared even more imposing, with his stature rivaling that of orcs and strength to match. His monstrous blade, tainted with vivid orange corrosion, hung at his side, bearing signs of an ominous curse. It was clear that one must take heed of any wounds from such a weapon. The knight fixed a silent gaze upon the satyr, evidently anticipating some matter. The satyr, clenching the chain firmly, presented a mirror holding information about me. The knight accepted the mirror with care, and bringing it near his visage, studied it in silence. The satyr, gripping the chain, observed the silent warrior, appearing gigantic in comparison to the fey descendant.
After several heartbeats, the haunting stillness was shattered by the knight's exasperated sigh. He returned the mirror to the warrior and then turned his attention to us.
"Two full hours tardy have you arrived? Have the urbanites forgotten the essence of punctuality?" The knight's voice was uncanny when considered against his appearance, for it bore a potent charisma and authority yet also held a peculiar gentleness and femininity, bereft of the coarseness typical of men. It was as though a being altogether unlike a man stood before me. And like a sudden thunderclap in a clear sky, the satyr's words sent a shock through me:
"Pardon, Captain Zavra! Gremlins assailed us within the tower, hence our belatedness. We did endeavor to alert you but struggled to establish communication." The satyr strove to maintain composure, yet the effort proved feeble. The knight swiftly turned and bellowed at one of the hobgoblins. "Krazag, thou insufferable dolt, I did charge thee with guarding that cursed mirror!" The knight, removing his helmet, swiftly flung it toward the hobgoblin, who had no time to react ere the helm crushed his head.
At that very moment, as I snapped out of my initial shock, I finally comprehended the peculiar timbre of this warrior's voice. Concealed behind the helm was a pale-faced elven maiden, a subspecies hitherto unheard of and unseen by me. She diverged not only in stature and physical prowess from her kin but also in the hue of her hair – a shade unfathomable to elves. Raven-feathered locks cascaded, framing eyes as crimson as blood. In elven lore, black hair symbolized the degradation of their lineage. To behold a representative of this race with such tresses was beyond belief as if she defied her entire heritage. Yet, despite all disparities from her kin, her countenance retained an enchanting beauty, as befitting any elf. An aura of nobility and preeminence enveloped her.
The elven warrior, seemingly blind in one eye, bore a black bandage over her left eye, discreetly veiling a scar. Relieving the tension in her neck, she sighed with an air of relief. "Hail Calendor, for in this helm, even simple head turns to become a daunting task," she expressed. Captain Zavra took pleasure in kneading her neck, while her subordinates dragged the headless hobgoblin's carcass to the side. Another hobgoblin, more fortunate than his fellow, joyously approached the captain, bearing a blood-smeared helm. I solemnly swear, by the grace of my lord, this crimson-orange sentinel was the most grotesque being I had ever set eyes upon. I know not how to articulate it, but the entirety of the hobgoblin's visage appeared swollen as if stung by vengeful wasps. His eyes, however, remained untouched, thereby imparting a perpetual air of concern. That repulsive grin on his face only served to exacerbate the disquiet, eliciting a primal urge to strike him.
"Curse Margos, your brother's head hath left an indentation in my helm! Ah, convey it to the smithy for mending, and promptly instruct the cooks to hasten the evening repast," Zavra commanded. Briefly examining the helm, she placed it firmly back upon Margos's head, causing him to lose his balance and tumble to the ground. "And, by the by, dost thou perchance know the whereabouts of thy brother's resting place, my communication mirror?" The elven maiden inclined her head toward Margos, who remained seated on the ground. With trepidation, he swallowed hard and indicated her side pouch with trembling fingers. "Madam, it doth repose within thy pouch!" The portly hobgoblin's voice matched his ghastly appearance, a grotesquery in its own right. Confirming its presence within her pouch, she offered an awkward smile. "My apologies, for I had set it to a silenced state, for this occupation hath the power to vex one's sanity at times. Ha-ha."
Still wearing a smile, Zavra hastily inscribed a message on her enchanted mirror, evidently dispatching a communication to the council to affirm the prisoner's arrival and her assumption of custodial responsibility. She then secured the mirror and, with a gracious smile, proffered a pouch of coins to the satyr. The satyr nodded in joy, taking a deep sigh of relief at the prospect of enduring yet another day.
"Captain, may fortune favor your evening, and I pray your hunt shall yield a worthy prize," the sentry bowed in a gesture of deference, transferring my chain to the elven warrior. He then silently made his way toward the stone portal. My heart quickened its pace merely by her presence. While I had come of age in a perilous realm, I had never borne witness to such a ruthless beheading with a helm. It wasn't the act of death that unsettled me, but the method – its brutality. Even the dark elves, known for their penchant for the suffering of others, did not regard demise with such callous indifference. It appeared her subspecies differed even in this regard from her kin.
"So, it seems today shall mark a festivity in our encampment! Three humans all at once – it's a rare sight. In a decade, not a single one, and now, here we have three in a single batch. Ha-ha, it seems fortune smiled upon me," the warrior immediately began her appraisal of me. Her eyes gleamed with delight as she recognized that I was, indeed, a pure-blooded human. "Your name, I believe, is Caleb, is it not? Forgive my pronunciation if it lacks the right nuance." Zavra abruptly yanked a tress of my hair, tearing it from my scalp. It was painful, but it appeared more like an inadvertent act than an intentional one; for, had she willed it, she could have effortlessly crushed my bones without exerting much force. "Yes, my name is Caleb," I responded, gritting my teeth and avoiding her gaze.
"Oops, ha-ha, I did not anticipate your kind to be quite so delicate. The other two, the siblings, exhibited sturdier frames than you. Ah, but your magical thread, it is as if it decays from within." Her lone eye ignited into a bright shade of red. She scrutinized my chest closely and then gently brushed my shoulders, revealing her fangs. "I perceive that even worms can lust after power." Her voice, once affable, swiftly transformed into one of disdain, and her gaze was fraught with scorn.
"It is rather unwise on your part to aspire to be a lion when you are, in essence, a lamb. Ah, I assumed that humans, by and large, were more pragmatic, but it appears not to be universal. Regardless, that is of little consequence now. Accompany me, Caleb; we must, at the very least, ascertain the company with whom you shall share a resting place." Zavra ordered coldly, tugging sharply on the chain, almost causing me to stumble. The captain strode purposefully deeper into the camp, intermittently pulling on the chain to quicken my step.
*******
Zara led me into a grand mansion, where at least nine individuals had gathered around a large table. My eyes were immediately drawn to two people - evidently, these were the representatives of my kind as the elf had informed me. They indeed seemed to be siblings, possibly even twins, as they bore a striking resemblance to each other. The only difference was that the young man had dyed his hair white, but otherwise, they were like two peas in a pod, dressed in identical black suits. Both sported mysterious neck tattoos whose meaning remained a mystery to me. Looking at them, I realized one thing: it was too late for me to keep up with fashion. Compared to these two, I felt like an old man, although I'd argue that we weren't that far apart in age.
Seated at the table alongside these two models was a disgruntled bald dwarf. Next to him, an orcish behemoth drooled, eyeing a pie held by a dark green-haired maiden. She taunted the swine by offering the pie and then snatching it away before he could even get a whiff of its aroma. On the opposite side sat a tall elf clad in lightweight silver-colored armor. He wore a smile, but it did not convey joy; rather, it seemed to signify irritation. The long-eared fellow's companion was a gnoll, who growled menacingly at a warlock dressed in expensive leather garments. However, the warlock paid no attention to the hyena-like creature and merely used his magic to conjure images on his hands. Observing them with boredom was a man with violet hair and a scruffy beard.
*******
As we approached the grand table, the enigmatic warlock immediately ceased his mystical incantations, turning his attention to our party. "Not even a mere moon's turn has passed!" The warlock commented with an air of condescension, his salt-and-pepper beard adding an aura of wisdom. "Ah, the cumbersome workings of bureaucracy—devouring precious time while yielding no ecstasy. It seems that you have managed to avoid any altercations in the absence of your maternal figure."
Zara, casting an appraising glance at each individual, then nodded with satisfaction and seated me beside her. "Before we delve into matters of importance, I would inquire if there are any lingering questions among the assemblage." The elf addressed the entire gathering. "Forgive me, but is this the same individual who has slain frog-goblins?" The emerald-haired lady asked in a tone of disbelief, pointing her finger in my direction.
(Light, the knights have surely embellished my dossier beyond measure! According to their narrative, I am now a cruel, depraved outcast who dabbled in the mystic arts. They tell the tale of a capricious whim I acted upon – combining basilisk venom with the elixir of unicorns and pouring it into the toad-goblin waters. As a result, I have been officially branded a terrorist.)
"The exterior can often veil the truth beneath. It is wisdom you bear, Medea," Zara responded with a hint of ironic admiration. Medea, in turn, responded with a mischievous smile.
"Now, if there are no further questions, we shall proceed with the matter at hand, my honored companions." The captain announced cheerfully, applauding her hands together before anyone could interject with queries. "In brief, you have found yourselves ensnared in this treacherous marsh because your parents failed to impart adequate discipline in your youth. Consequently, you have grown up as the forsaken offspring of society, unceremoniously rejected by the same. However, fate has cast upon you a gleam of good fortune. We are here to extend a lifeline, a fresh beginning. All that is required is to retrieve an ostensibly trifling relic – the Heart of the Abyss, a rare ore steeped in the malevolence of ancient origins. I perceive the astonishment and anguish etched upon your visages. Ha-ha, feel free to express your gratitude openly." She concluded with benevolence, waving her hand and observing the array of bewildered expressions among her audience.
"Do ye even grasp the sheer absurdity of this proposal? Layin' a hand on that ore is beyond reckoning, ye've naught but the intent to cast us into the maw o' death!" The dwarf's voice thundered as his fist collided with the weathered table.
"I beseech ye, Mr. Danak, to find repose in your spirit. The truth be, the abyss beckons, and for most, the return will forever elude them. A chance for salvation in Haifeyn's sanctuary, veiled in this cursed abyss. Yet despair not, for yonder path hath been trod ere by souls whom Lamril didst bless," spoke the high elf, his voice akin to a gentle breeze on a scorching summer's day, soothing the wrath that had kindled in the dwarf's breast.
"Why, then, hath no tale of those cast afore us ever reached our ears?" inquired the man with hair of violet hue, his smile o'erweening, baring his pride. By his hair's color and the exalted opinion he held of himself, 'twas plain he hailed from the fey folk.
"Tis the price of liberty, my dear comrade! A second lease on life, in trade for thy previous existence. Ye must elect to join our guild, or be dispatched to a foreign realm, bearing a wholly altered visage and credentials," the mage replied in gruff tones, conjuring forth images of visage transmutations using mystic arts upon the table's timeworn wood.
"So, all who've gathered here...?" began the pale-haired youth, his voice tinged with surprise, perceiving a revelation. But ere he could proceed further, his sister gently nudged him, ensuring his utterances were curtailed.
"The cavern, it teems with twisted abominations! Claws and fangs alone shan't suffice to overcome 'em! A stout blade for hewing and maiming, that's what ye need!" bellowed the gnoll, his semi-putrid fangs clicking with each utterance, and his words punctuated by unhinged laughter. His tenebrous gray-orange fur exuded an odious stench, as if someone had bathed a filthy, sickly hound, then neglected its drying.
"Fear not this, for your benefactors have been bountiful," Medea joyfully proclaimed, striking the table twice with her fist. Ethereal holograms emerged beside each prisoner, revealing enchanted arms and artifacts. "For what reason would anyone aid a band of wretches like us?" Orxvayne inquired, his voice deep and guttural.
"Oh, 'tis a boon, to tip the scales in our favor, my friends. You see, we engage in wagers here, and those noble overseers above must seek merriment from time to time. What grander entertainment than an ethereal totalizator?" Zara elucidated, her grin betraying a hint of madness.
At that moment, the rogues came to the stark realization that they were but pawns in a grand and ancient game. Following the captain's discourse, a mystic table materialized at the center, bearing the likenesses and names of the prisoners. Above each portrait, a digit ranging from naught to ten loomed.
Leading the list was the descendant of the fey, a sprite named Rialto. The haughty scoundrel had secured a perfect ten in the ranking, closely followed by Orxvayne, known as Vephrilo, with a resolute eight. To my astonishment, the brother and sister found themselves separated, with the maiden holding two steps above her kin, who, in turn, occupied but a single rank above the elderly dwarf. Thus, he found his place as the fifth in the list. Strangely enough, the gnoll proudly seized the fourth position, rated higher than most. Bringing up the rear like a pair of stubborn mules were the two of us: myself and old Danak. As I gazed upon him, fond recollections of my long-departed grandfather arose. May the Lord have mercy on his soul.
Danak's ranking was a modest two, while to my bewilderment, an inexplicable negative numeral loomed beside my name. Unlike the others, no holographic armament adorned my presence. At that very moment, it dawned on me: all wagers and malevolence conspired against me, desiring to escalate the odds of my demise a hundredfold. "I beseech thy mercy, O Lord, for in Thee alone can I find hope in these dire hours," I whispered, concealing my words behind a palm.
"Hmm, so the odds of our survival are rather slim, my dear. Ha-ha, how wondrous it is that the world is not devoid of virtuous beings!" Rialto spoke, dripping with venomous sarcasm as he gazed upon his impeccably manicured fingernails.
"We shall also furnish you with a vessel, ensuring the safe delivery of the ore, without any trepidation for your lives. Your sole task, dear travelers, is to refrain from tearing each other's throats asunder in the depths," the sorcerer calmly proclaimed, his hand swaying gracefully as he transitioned to the next holographic vision.
"Before your minds wander into thoughts of escape, be informed that unseen observers shall be assigned to you!" The elf's fingers snapped, and from the shadows behind each prisoner's back, a black sphere with a blazing eye at its core materialized. Veprilo and Scamper shot fiery glares at these unearthly apparitions, while the others nodded with stoic acceptance.
"Now that the formalities have concluded, my lieutenants shall accompany you to your tents. There, you may cleanse yourselves and find respite before your descent, which, I might add, awaits you in a mere two hours. I extend my well-wishes, for they shall prove invaluable in the abyss!" The captain resounded her final words, her palm striking the table.
The elf, the venerable sorcerer, and Medea were the first to rise from the table, followed by the others. I, too, moved to depart with them, but a firm grip on my shoulder stopped me in my tracks. The captain, her smile gentle, turned to me and, with a soft voice, spoke, "You should remain, for there is much to discuss in private."
*******
Seated face-to-face, we observed in hushed reverence through the mystic crystal's shimmering portal as the condemned readied themselves for their imminent departure. Within their canvas sanctuaries lay a bounty of victuals and elixirs, tomes of ancient lore, garments befitting noble lords, and an eclectic array of accouterments.
"I bear no desire to appear ungrateful, yet, methinks a sinister conspiracy hath cast its shadow upon my already dire circumstances," I uttered with a tranquil demeanor, my arms folded upon my breastplate. "I comprehend that my visage bears no resemblance to a potent paladin or venerable wizard. But to fathom that each patron hath placed their dire wagers upon mine own demise! Alas, I pray that I shall not meet my fate beneath a remorseless stone's embrace. Though, in truth, what distinction shall it make? O, Lord, I do beseech thee for thy pardon, for I have verily transgressed in this earthly sojourn," I sighed heavily, my head bowed in vexation. The revelation that all thirteen guardians deemed me the feeblest among the candidates wounded my spirit deeply. Even my parting with Carmilla did not yield such a grievous sting, but, as they say, destiny doth not ever favor the pleasant path. Praise be to the Almighty that they shan't bind me in fetters.
"Caleb, thou dost grasp the verity that thou shalt be bereft of weaponry, nay, nor equipment, doth thou not?" Zara taunted, her lustrous ebon tresses unfurling like a raven's wing. "Indeed? Hark, I had harbored expectations that a lifeless blade might be placed into mine very grasp," I jestingly responded, simulating amazement intermingled with feigned disappointment. Leaning my knuckles against my right cheek, I directed my gaze skyward at the oaken ceiling, where an array of mushrooms and blossoms flourished. "Ha-ha, thou knowest, thou dost endear thyself to me, in truth, despite thy foolishness. Within thee resides an unsullied essence, nay, I shall not hesitate to pronounce it a seed of sanctity, one that may burgeon into something grander in days to come. Yet, alas, thou art like to remain not to witness that morn," the captain tenderly imparted, drawing near at a deliberate pace.
"Indeed, and perchance the world is a flat expanse. Pray, might thou unveil something novel?" I retorted, absently scratching my pate, my gaze lingering upon the ceiling in weariness. "I can proffer mine assistance, shouldst thou wish it," she declared, swiveling my chair toward her. My discerning eyes swiftly detected shifts in her posture, as well as the conspicuous absence of certain portions of her armor.
"Nay!" I swiftly retorted, realizing the captain's sinister designs upon me. "Pardon me!? What did you utter!?" Zara's countenance was filled with shock and bewilderment as she grasped my shoulders. "I shall not partake in this. Pray, pardon my discourtesy, but I would rather take my leave." As I attempted to rise, her vice-like grip thwarted my efforts. "This is dire!" I offered a nervous smile and strived to stand with all my might, but her unyielding grasp compelled me to remain seated. She met my gaze with a murderous intent and bared her fangs. "Dost thou comprehend the offer I extended, thou fool? Or dost thou disdain women?" With her hand firmly clasping my face, she brought her other hand to rest upon my heart. "I merely wish to abstain from such involvement. I am confident there are others within the encampment," I hissed while struggling against the pressure of her hand on my face.
"So, in thy estimation, I am a frivolous maiden?" She squeezed my face with a force that elicited a slight crunch and unceremoniously thrust me against the table, leaving me breathless. "I had intended to treat thee with kindness, yet it appears thy stubborn honor and morals may pave the way for thy execution!" She loomed over me, an immovable presence, as she pressed a finger against one of my ribs. The pain was excruciating, and my futile attempts to resist led to kicking at her hand. Yet, she merely wore a mocking smile in response to the pain etched on her face. "Art thou not ashamed to strike an undefended maiden?"
"Thy mustache is more prominent than mine!" I cried out as I kicked her in the face. The captain released me abruptly and turned away, her hand cradling her face. Coughing up blood, I descended from the table, addressing the captain in a hoarse voice. "I offer my apologies for striking thee, but thou wert about to pierce me with my own ribs." Holding my ribs with both hands, I retreated, bracing myself for the impending consequences. Ignoring my words entirely, the captain did not turn but instead retrieved a mirror from her pack. She gazed into it for a protracted moment, scrutinizing her countenance. I remained as motionless as stone, watching her touch her upper lip with mounting consternation. "Ha-ha, art thou indeed in search of facial hair? Female elves lack such growth," I chortled, my laughter causing my body to ache.
"Imbecile! I was truly concerned, fearing I had forgotten to visit the alchemist this week!" Zara growled fiercely at me, hurling the mirror in my direction. "While I concede that insulting a lady is beneath you, attempting to slay a man for refusing to disgrace you is an affront beyond measure!" Darting aside from the oncoming mirror, I rose and brushed the dirt from my jeans. "Pray to tell, you mentioned a visit to an alchemist, did you not?" I inquired of the elfess, my curiosity piqued.
"That is no concern of yours!" responded the captain with a measured tone, arms folded firmly across her chest. "It signifies that your subspecies possesses the capacity for facial hair, unlike other kin, does it not?" I walked over to the mirror on the floor, lifting it gracefully, and approached the captain with composure. "Do you suffer from some peculiar fascination with hair, my dear eccentric?" Waving her hand dismissively, she continued, "Ah, while you exhibit such interest, indeed, my subspecies does bear facial hair. However, it grows in a much more modest manner than your own, dear kyalhof. I trust this satisfies your curiosity!" With a low growl, the elfess moved closer.
"My inquisitiveness was mere curiosity, though you are correct; directing such queries to a lady is, at best, impolite. I apologize if my demeanor seemed discourteous, but might I inquire about your people's appellation?" With a genteel smile and a raised eyebrow, I returned the mirror to its rightful owner.
"In all my forty-five years, you are the first to inquire," Zara feigned surprise, a hint of mirth dancing in her eyes as she nodded. "Truly?" I asked with genuine interest, tilting my head inquisitively. "Indeed, you are the inaugural one," Zara confirmed, her smile genuine. "At least, among the kyalhof!" With those words, she delivered a swift punch to my jaw, displacing my front teeth. "My people are known as the Dusk Elves. I trust you find contentment dwelling in these caverns." With a final, disdainful spit, the captain turned away, leaving me prone on the ground.
*******
"It's becoming an unsettling routine," I muttered softly, my gaze fixed upon the cerulean fungi flourishing upon the vaulted ceiling. Sometimes, an overwhelming urge to release the grip on my sanity welled up within me, an inclination to surrender to the darkness that plagued this forsaken place. Yet, the looming dread of metamorphosing into a wretched creature akin to those that dwelled here swiftly vanquished those sinister thoughts. In truth, I dared not even cast my reflection in the mirror, for my very visage had contorted into a grotesque facade, concealing the fragile, trembling child within.
"I do not even know your name, Lord, but I beseech your benevolence and power, for I have faltered in safeguarding those dearest to me. I was powerless to shield my mother when she needed it most, and my elder kin...well, you are surely aware of his disposition. My plea is not for their sake but for my own. I implore you, mend me, anoint me as your cleric or whatever mantle you deem fit. Above all, extend your guiding hand. I harbor an aversion to perishing within this abyss. The terror that claws at my soul is insurmountable. Grant me the fortitude to rise and conquer. I pray for your pardon if my words have offended your grace." With my supplication complete, I rose from my humble position and departed toward the exit, heart aflutter with hope.