Thread: ATM II RPG
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Old 02-19-2007, 11:06 AM   #304
the guy who be short
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Angawen's head throbbed.

She realized vaguely that she was horizontal. The ground under her seemed hard - could it be a bed? But she had a pillow.

Perhaps, she thought, I should stop thinking. It seems to make this headache worse. The thought passed through her head suddenly, and she was shamed that a woman of Gondor could display such frailty.

She opened her eyes. Darkness poured in, but it was just enough to see by: the rough, arched roof of a cave. Her face contorted in pain - even this light seemed like torture - but she let no renegade thoughts flow through her mind.

For a long time, it seemed to her, she lay there, gazing absently at the stone ceiling. She had not the energy for anything else. And then, suddenly, she blinked, and the roof was gone, and there was a face.

If she had had the energy, she would have cried out - not screamed, of course, but cried out. For in the pale face burned two eyes of flame, such as she imagined the lord Sauron, or even Morgoth himself must have looked ere his casting into the void. But the nose was flat, with small slits for nostrils.

"Do not move," he said, and his voice was high, like a woman's, and yet all the more chilling for it. "It will be the worse for you." She lay still, not knowing what to expect, but feeling that it would be better to wait and realize her situation before attempting an escape.

"Who are you?" she asked, and her voice was hoarse and stony so that she barely recognized it.

"Questions. I knew you would ask them. So I have kept you here in sleep for many days, hoping to avoid them. I will not suffer questions," and he spoke the last word with a fierce vehemence. And yet Angawen seemed to be getting information out of him: she had lain here for a long time, and he appeared to be a kidnapper. Perhaps she could wheedle more out of him - already her headache was receding.

She was about to reply when he thrust a cup into her hand. "Drink this." She peered into the cup, expecting some sort of hideous brew, but it was simply water. She said so aloud.

"Of course it is water. You have need of hydration, do you not? And food. Here, take this," he replied shrilly, and shoved a stale loaf - it's always a stale loaf - into her face.

"Put that down. I'll eat it myself," she said, annoyed, and sat up. She drank from the cup and ate the loaf as he watched her. She eyed him more thoroughly now. He was dressed all in black, in long robes.

When she had finished, she wiped the crumbs from her bed - for it was a rough bed indeed - and handed the cup back to the man. "It is refreshing," she said, "to sup and to drink, especially if I have lain here for several days as you claim. I am surprised I did not require nourishment before now."

He didn't seem pleased at her talking, for he scowled, but he replied nonetheless. "Fool. I placed you under a spell of sleeping. You had no need of nourishment in such a sleep."

"Then it was kind of you to wake me, good sir...?"

He ignored her question, but stooped to the ground to pick something up, she couldn't see what. "Kind it certainly was not. I am not known for... kindness," he hissed. She could well believe it. "My wand is broken. And so, therefore, is the spell. And so you, whom I wished asleep, have awoken."

"I have many friends. They will search for me."

He smiled, but it was a grimace that made his face appear yet uglier. "No doubt, no doubt," he said. "No doubt their memories are intact. No doubt there are no spells of oblivion upon them. For the Lord Voldemort would not see to that."

She jumped out of the bed, but before she could escape, Voldemort lifted the thing he was holding. It was a vase, and it connected with her head, and everything was darkness again as shards of ceramics fell around her.

Some pierced Voldemort, and he squealed, "buggrit!"

He sat, his hand bleeding, and thought a while. His wand breaking was most inconvenient, but what could you do? He was worried - would the forgetfulness charm he had cast on all the ambassadors wear off? They were different kinds of spells. Still, even if they did wear off, they would not find him here in this cave.

He chuckled to himself. Yes, perhaps it would be better if they remembered Angawen... In fact, if he made himself known to them, that could be all the better. It would cause strife. Strife between Alli and Dracomir, perhaps. Perhaps Dracomir could be drawn to him. And the Anakronist... he would be angered at the Blue Wizards, Voldemort's allies and pedagogues.

Voldemort chuckled to himself again. He would show himself to one of the ambassadors, yes. He needed to pop into town to buy a new vase anyway. Gathering his cloak, he swept out of the cave, giggling all the while about the perfect evil: RPG crossovers.
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