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damned_institute2007-07-15 08:43 pm
adorkabledragon.livejournal.com) wrote in damned_institute2007-07-15 08:43 pm
Entry tags:
Nightshift 25: M88 (and the M81-M90 Hallway)
"Dolyeton"? What in the name of Fire and Rain was that? (Or where in the name of Fire and Rain was that, but Keman didn't really want to deal with technicalities at the moment.)
Steeling his courage, the young dragon-turned-halfblood (he was so used to this form that he knew without even thinking that it was the one he'd ended up in) sat up and finally opened his eyes.
Pre-glow indeed. It was pitch black.
A cursory investigation of the room that he had found himself in helped him realize a few things. First, this wasn't the New Citadel. The massive castle that the Kin had helped to shape and create did not have rooms this small. The Old Citadel, on the other hand, had had rooms of all shapes and sizes. Unfortunately, this didn't seem to be there, either. The walls were smooth, not hewn rock. They felt more like plaster than anything...which meant that he was definitely not in the Old Citadel, because plaster can't survive underground.
Secondly, he realized that he was having trouble shifting. It was so dark in the room that normally he would have at least shifted his eyes to be able to see more than an inch in front of his annoying two-legger nose, but trying to do so gave him a headache unlike one he'd ever had before...without helping his vision any. Unsettling. Very, very unsettling.
Thirdly, examination of the bed that he had woken up on yielded a strange sort of hard club. Did...did his captors (because now he was certain that he'd been captured, probably by bitter Elven Lords) expect him to fight? With a club? How uncivilized. Keman preferred a quick, clean kill with his fangs and claws to beating his opponent senseless and bloody.
Oh, and the door was, apparently, unlocked. Whichever Elven Lords had captured them seemed to be extremely inept. The young dragon gripped his club and started to move down what seemed to be a long hallway, cursing his inability to shift.
That was about when he "heard" it. A lilting melody inside his mind. One that he actually recognized.
It "sounded" like Valyn. But...that was impossible! Valyn was dead. The blast that had killed him and his father had leveled the hill on which Lord Dyran had pitched his tent. No one, not even a powerful Elven Lord like Valyn, could survive that. It must have been some other elf. It certainly wasn't Shana.
...Shana. Where was Shana?! He had to find her. What if she was in danger? She was the Elvenbane. If the Elven Lords found her, the could kill her! Keman tried to call out to his foster-sister with his mind, but he was only met with another piecing headache.
"Fewmets," he muttered angrily.
Just what was this place?
[moving here.]
Steeling his courage, the young dragon-turned-halfblood (he was so used to this form that he knew without even thinking that it was the one he'd ended up in) sat up and finally opened his eyes.
Pre-glow indeed. It was pitch black.
A cursory investigation of the room that he had found himself in helped him realize a few things. First, this wasn't the New Citadel. The massive castle that the Kin had helped to shape and create did not have rooms this small. The Old Citadel, on the other hand, had had rooms of all shapes and sizes. Unfortunately, this didn't seem to be there, either. The walls were smooth, not hewn rock. They felt more like plaster than anything...which meant that he was definitely not in the Old Citadel, because plaster can't survive underground.
Secondly, he realized that he was having trouble shifting. It was so dark in the room that normally he would have at least shifted his eyes to be able to see more than an inch in front of his annoying two-legger nose, but trying to do so gave him a headache unlike one he'd ever had before...without helping his vision any. Unsettling. Very, very unsettling.
Thirdly, examination of the bed that he had woken up on yielded a strange sort of hard club. Did...did his captors (because now he was certain that he'd been captured, probably by bitter Elven Lords) expect him to fight? With a club? How uncivilized. Keman preferred a quick, clean kill with his fangs and claws to beating his opponent senseless and bloody.
Oh, and the door was, apparently, unlocked. Whichever Elven Lords had captured them seemed to be extremely inept. The young dragon gripped his club and started to move down what seemed to be a long hallway, cursing his inability to shift.
That was about when he "heard" it. A lilting melody inside his mind. One that he actually recognized.
It "sounded" like Valyn. But...that was impossible! Valyn was dead. The blast that had killed him and his father had leveled the hill on which Lord Dyran had pitched his tent. No one, not even a powerful Elven Lord like Valyn, could survive that. It must have been some other elf. It certainly wasn't Shana.
...Shana. Where was Shana?! He had to find her. What if she was in danger? She was the Elvenbane. If the Elven Lords found her, the could kill her! Keman tried to call out to his foster-sister with his mind, but he was only met with another piecing headache.
"Fewmets," he muttered angrily.
Just what was this place?
[moving here.]