Well Wishers Don’t Wish Well PT 1
Iseril tapped her fingers against the metal of her cage. Each tap of her finger elicited a little jump from the nervous guard. He had his back turned but he had the arrogance of a new guard. Every time she spoke he would smack the back of his hand against the metal bars of the cage. Just beyond the armored leg of the guard stood her key to survival: an enchanted wood staff. It is a powerful weapon that could harvest her magic into a deadly weapon. It was so close that it felt as if the slavers meant to taunt her. She groaned loudly while smacking her metal shackle against the ground. Determined to frustrate the guard, Iseril got louder, drawing his attention from his position. At this point it was a game and he was about to lose. If they were going to see Iseril then you would make sure to never be bought.
"Come on man, just let me out. We already in know I'm not gonna get sold and we also know you all can't kill me. Are you keeping me here out of spite?" She had been in this position before and as soon as they opened her door to remove her, Iseril had killed three of their guards and slipped away and since then the slavers had been trying to exact some sort of revenge. This time they had her in a cell for well over a week and Iseril had grown tired of it. “If you are going to treat me like a pet, please feed me like one.”
The guard slammed the back of his palm against your cage, finally turning his back on Iseril with a huff. She nodded in satisfaction. "Shut the hell up." He demanded in that familiar weak and agitated tone. She reached your arm out through the bars and slipped your finger into his back pocket, after fishing out the keys Iseril hid them in her shirt.
"Yes sir." She nodded with affirmation and leaned back against the bars. "But if we are getting technical here, does that mean I can hum?" The man groaned and stepped away from her. He stepped over towards where they kept the male prisoners, which was in the room adjacent to the one she was being held in.
"I need a break. I can't handle your constant whining! I would cut out that witty tongue if I was allowed to." He crudely spit on the ground in front of her before retreating into the back room. The guard shook his head while fixing the helmet which was one size too big.
"Perfect." Iseril hummed and slipped her hand through the bars and she tried to turn her wrist far enough to reach the keyhole. Much to her dismay, Iseril couldn't bend her wrist far enough. The guards must have opened another cask of ale because the sound incoherent yelling was growing louder. Sloppy guards makes an easy escape, she had learned this in her time escaping from several other slavers. She attempted to jam the key somewhere along the lock again until she felt it give way under her hand. Either she just broke the key or she had unlocked it. With a swift twist of her arm the door had flown open. As Iseril stood up, she dusted the dirt from her pants and the door leading into the holding chamber slammed open. Stunned, Iseril rushed for her staff, holding it up just in time to catch a greatsword from clashing against her skull.
"Come on man, I just escaped." Iseril groaned before kicking the man in the groin, right below the metal plate that covered his torso. He groaned and staggered back slightly, letting her get the advantage she needed to slip right out from under him. "Thanks!" Iseril waved appreciatively while walking towards the door. Iseril’s staff was flaming at the tip and became more fierce as a group of people filled the room, effectively blocking the exit. The people blocking the door weren't slavers, but they weren’t to be trusted. They were a more armored motley crew this time, consisting of a human with a red stripe across her nose, a dwarf with an odd crossbow and a woman in elvish gear. Iseril propped one hand on her hip, "Now who are you?"
"You ok, Fenris?" The lady in the front yelled to what must have been her companion. The man Iseril had kicked and most definitely left a bad bruise nodded.
"Yes," he rasped out. His voice was still coarse with pain. The woman's gaze zoned in on you, Iseril shook off the intimidation and she stood taller.
"You aren't a slaver, who are you?" She questioned while looking to the busted door that held the male slaves.
Iseril sighed, shaking the flame out from her staff. "A slave who doesn't want to be in a cage." She shrugged and took a step to the side to look for a way through the group. "Now if you’ll excuse me-" The woman with the red stripe stepped further in Iseril’s way.
"What kind of slave knows how to fight?" She asked again, eyes snapping up to meet those of the one she called Fenris.
Iseril just crossed her arms defensively. "The kind who doesn't want to be a slave." Iseril spat the words at her, was she just another slave-sympathetic? "I escaped, killed some guys got captured and now I am escaping again." She gripped her staff tightly, "Do I have to kill you too?" The rest of her party straightened up, pulling their weapons up in defense.. "Because so help me, Maker, I am not getting back in that cage."
The man behind you finally gained his composure, "Nobody here is going to turn you into the slavers." Iseril turned around to meet his gaze. "How did you get out? Make a deal with a demon, mage?"
She scoffed, "Of course. Mage haters." Iseril pulled the staff to her lips and breathed flame into the twisted wood. "I have no dealings with Blood Magic. I only want to live freely and by the law. But I'm not going from one prison to another." The man gripped the handle of his blade tightly in his hand, ready to lunge forward if needed.
"You mages cannot control themselves. They always need more, taking blood is what runs in yours. We cannot allow that," he spat out.
Iseril shook her head with a laugh, "If I was going to make a deal I would never have been a slave to begin with. As if your blade hasn't killed many. I can see the innocent's blood on your hands, the cries follow you everywhere. You are the one with no control."
The woman spoke up, "I think it's best if you just leave. We need to save the rest but if we hear-"
Iseril walked forward, pushing the man against the cell bars. The hand that gripped the staff pushed against his chest while your other hand grabbed the keys inserted in the lock at his side. "Don't threaten me." Iseril turned around and threw the keys at her feet. "Good luck." Iseril stepped forward, pushing her way past the group. Iseril paused while she passed the group. Her eyes lingered on the dwarf and vague, incoherent memories flew past her eyes but Iseril just shook them off and pushed past them.
Iseril sat at the edge of the dirty table in The Hanging Man, men eyeing her up like a hot steak on a plate. She simply ignored them, her gaze was better settled on the paper that had been sitting in her lap for the past 20 minutes. Iseril’s drink was long gone, just the ghost of the bitter taste on her tongue. The light of the candles weren't enough to show the details of the writing but she could still read the message. Varric, an old family friend back when she still had a family, had offered her a place on an expedition. They needed her spells, according to the letter at least.
Iseril- long time no talk eh? Well, I have a proposition for you. Given this even gets to you. Still, you are one of the best mages I know and I need your help. I will tell you more details but one thing is..Coin. and a lot of it. up to 50 sovereigns. meet me in The Hanging Man at night, be there.
-Varric
The last time Iseril had seen Varric must have been years ago, back before he was known as the shady dwarf with a knack for stories. 'Meet me in the Hanging Man' it read at the bottom. And here Iseril was, prepared to make what could be the worst mistake of her life. Her jaded heart wouldn't let her remember the good times but he offered coin and a lot of it. Upwards of 50 gold pieces, that would not only buy her freedom it would also let her restore her legacy. No longer would she be a mutt, a mongrel waiting and begging for scraps. She would be on top, her magic would bring trust to the Mages and maybe it could help abolish slavery for once and all. All Iseril needed was a little influence and this is her only chance.
5 notes
·
View notes