Pit Prep. Day 3 (solo)

by **Valorae** on January 16th, 2012, 3:49 am

4 Winter 511 A.V.

It was that same time again; she could feel it, a magnetic pull through the earth. She was calling and searching, power fading and growing, wrath abundant. But she was in the cell, waiting, alone, cold, in the darkness.

I am going to the mountain, down the lone path through the wood, dark and tempting. To run in either direction, to take the clear path, so many choices. Birds…watching and chirping… Eyes in the shadows of bushes, watching and stalking and patiently waiting for their time. But there is the mountain and I focus… Large, gray mountain which holds the sun.

She opened her eyes and still saw nothing. It had been like this for…a while. Her neck and head twitched and she contorted her fingers in plain deprivation of any stimulus. Her chin jutted to the left and down and she stared forward into the nothing. A light was breeching the shadow…and passed again. It was a pattern now, at that time, in this place; they passed with a light like the sun warm and glowing gently from behind large gated doors. Her lips fell apart and she slithered her tongue out, “Syna…”

Disappointment greeted her again and she closed her eyes and stilled her movements. She was sore, especially in her legs, but it didn’t stop her from moving. She tried to imagine those binding that held her down and helped keep her temper and anxiety in place, which gave her support to let out her rage as she’d bang and lash and scream. Her head twitched again, something out of her control. She was closing closer to something by being here, in this situation, trapped in a cage like an animal, herded like cattle…

I see you over there…and you, and you. She was smiling. Come here; come out here to me… Come to me now. She tried to visualize herself now as she once was up there. And she was coaxing her devilish friends in the shadow to come and play with her, to keep her company on the trip back home. The winding path she saw before her was coming to an end, in time, and soon her fixation became that path over the mountain itself. She was losing sight of that goal, and just driving herself down the path, down, down, down…

They came in, bagged her, and took her off.

The bag was removed, she opened her eyes steadily. It was nice to see the light of fire. She smiled and looked into the room for a while, just admiring its own beauty. The color of the dirt, the art of the woodwork, the peace and quiet, and best yet the silence.

by **Valorae** on January 16th, 2012, 3:49 am

A piercing shrieking screaming high-pitched whistling noise echoed in the room. Her eyes were wide and her smile broad. She let it go no till her breath fully left her. She giggled and walked over to the center of the room. She started to put a skip in her step, a little kick on every off step. And she was humming…

“Hello there…” She dropped forward on the floor and spread her arms out to catch herself before she face planted on the floor. She succeeded, barely, as her arms still gave way and only slightly slowed her total fall. “Ow…hehehahhmmm…hmmm…” She let out a slow and low giggle as she reached into the ground and rubbed her hands over the feeling, her face against the floor, cheek to cheek with the earth. She rolled back over and started to arch off the ground on her toes and horns. It didn’t add as much pressure as one might expect. She actually found comfort like this, but she was tired and let herself down.

“I want to play.” She laughed quickly and spun back around, and back again… “Do you want to play too…? Ha!!!” Her outburst echoed in the room a moment. She was alone. She looked back at the rack and her head swayed from side to side, arcing forward over her breasts. She reached up and in and itched herself. “So disgusting…” She grabbed the dress she wore, now more ruined than before, and tried to rip it apart at the chest. She started a tear and let it open up more. She took a deeper breath and liked it. She sat there for a longer time and started to tear away at the edges of it. She ripped off pieces, frayed ends or entire pieces if the seams permitted her to do so. She kept laughing with each bit of damage she had done.

She had not done much before she placed her arms back…and let her head roll back, and she looked up and back and around and around and around… laughing.

She looked back to the start at the door and all happiness, if it can be called that, left her.

She screamed at the door with all her lungs could handle, sometimes grumbling and lower in her chest with snot and spit to add that beastly tone to it. And when no one answered back she broke a smile and laughed a bit more.

She looked up, “Syna,” and spoke out, “I’m waiting for you…ooo-OOO-ooo.” She cooed a little and then finally brought herself to stop. She started breathing heavily, looking at the dirt floor and wondered. Not that she really wondered, but her mind drifted into the blackness inside. It was void of all thought, patiently waiting for the end to come.

“Dancer…” The random though struck her and she stood up. She looked forward and held her arms out to the side, her foot forward just slightly out of place from her stance. Toes pointed forward, she stepped, stepped, and stepped and jumped. She reached down and rolled over in a tumble and landed on her back laughing. She struggled back up and tumbled again, landing on her toes this time. She giggled, and smiled with her eyes wide and wonderful, for she had done it. “Yes-s-s…” She drew out the word in a lower tone of great success. She rolled back and looked at the ceiling. The corner of her eye twitched and then her ear and neck. Her smile faded, and returned to her, but she just remained there.

by **Valorae** on January 16th, 2012, 3:49 am

More thought flooded into her mind. She stretched her back and arched it again as she looked back to the rack.”Arrows…” She rolled over, landing on her left knee, palms, and right foot. She started sprinting for the bows and arrows, sliding and falling a few times, but getting back up all the same. She slid and rolled past them before she got up and walked over to them calmly. In the last few feet she was overwhelmed with her giddiness and couldn’t help but shake. She took the biggest bow she could and an arrow. She had fiddled with it for a while before realizing the way it went and held together.

She looked forward as her fingers toyed with the long bow and arrow, she felt it, it felt so good, the smooth wood rubbing against her skin… She’d guide it, and pluck it by the tail, and she raised the bow to the ceiling. She grabbed hold of the arrow which hooked the string and drew it back charging with energy and let it fly all few feet it did from her poor grasp and effortless aim. She smiled on account of the product of her efforts, making things fly that was. She picked another arrow, drew it back farther and let it go. Again and again until the arrows were all scattered on the ground in a mess showing no signs of skill or effort applied; it was just a mess.

She looked at the pole arms next and went for them. She took up a spear, lance, or javelin; it didn’t matter, and started to throw them over. It felt nice, and she took the next and threw it at the door. Naturally, it fell short. She threw the rest of these too. She pushed over whatever else was left and threw the weapons round, screaming, hissing, and cursing the whole while. It was a small mess to clean up. That’s why they didn’t keep nice things in that room.

by **Valorae** on March 15th, 2012, 12:22 am

The training area was a wreck, and aside from the training dummies there wasn’t much of anything left untouched. The litter across the floor was the most that could be done to the place without physically defacing the equipment, something she had no capability of doing. She crawled across the floor to one of the pieces and tossed it across the room all she could. Falling forward on her hands she watched it hover through the air and drop with an uneventful bump.

The room was silent…

Nothing was happening…

She was alone…

All…alone…

Nothing at all…

Nothing to happen, just…

Alone…

Quiet, peaceful, solitude…

It was maddening… her eyes began to twinge at the sight of the dagger as her vision narrowed on the piece, and the room began to stretch. Her mouth came loose and her jaw was ajar, ever so just out of sight her teeth hung from below her lip, seemingly awestruck. Those eyes, those devilish eyes usually as daggers gazing at her point of interest, some sort of metaphoric marker she’d tear apart, were just staring off. Valorae’s arms gave way and she fell to her side and rolled onto her back, just to lay there. With her lips parted the same she looked upward with the same stare.

Syna…Sy-y-yna… Where are you? Syna? Where are you, Syna? She thought in an eerie whisper. Syna?! Where are you?! She demanded with the deep rasping of some horribly angry fiend. Almost like…

Valorae’s head turned over toward the door with the same guise, taking her time, her muscles twitching to turn back toward the ceiling. She asked, in a whisper, “Where are you?” No one answered back, but she kept looking for someone, as if from the shadows they would appear. Who would appear? Maybe it was really the shadows themselves? The shadows didn’t speak, or did they, she began to wonder. Vague ideas tried to penetrate her conscious, some distant bits of information with some relevance she couldn’t put serious attention towards. She knew dark boxes and chains, yes, she knew the pain and cries of the hurt, yes, yes! She knew what they had in mind for her, and they wouldn’t stop! They wouldn’t stop until she was bled dry and hanging by her skin on some bloodied pole, drenched in her own blood as she coughed it up! She’d be left there till she bled to death or the skin just ripped off of her like a suit. Yes, yes, and they’d roll her around in the dirt and spit and burn her, burn her and toss her into the bloodied pits of the countless dead who, other than their sun-bleached bones, never existed!

Her dilated pupils began to return to normal. It was all nightmares. Maybe she’d be haunted by them in the dead of night, and just now remembered them. No relevance of Taloba came to her mind; she knew nothing of it in this life. They were nightmares, and other nightmares of the past haunted her too. Some were new, others were old, and others were old nightmares fueled by the real ones she had, at some time, lived, if not the facts of the experiences themselves. And what was real, what happened, what would happen even…she didn’t know, and she couldn’t comprehend it. She was dead, they were all dead! They’d die in bloodied pits, all of them… Her and…her and…

She was alone here.

by **Valorae** on March 15th, 2012, 2:32 am

In that outburst all of her pent up frustrations of the past…who-knows-how-long were unleashed and burned out entirely. Her body was still shaking as the effects of adrenaline and endorphins wore off, and her jittering subsided. Now she didn’t have anything quite left. There was, however, that void that hungered for something to sustain it. She looked at that door and imaged the faces behind it. All she was related directly to what lay behind that door, and beyond it. Malum, her captors, or the world even, all were at fault. It was easy to hate. While not filling, it was a temporary substitute. No hunger would be satisfied, but it would block out everything else for the time.

Her hatred wasn’t some fuming thing that brooded within her at a violent rate. It was cold. What is it, “vengeance is a dish best served cold”? Sure, sure it was… But that wasn’t what she was thinking of, there was no getting even. It was just. They deserved to die, she figured, and at the least suffer. There was no need for pain to be experienced, no need to see them cry and tear up at the sight of impending doom, which was all a waste of time and energy. They waste their lives wasting away those of others’, but they are no better by mind, body, nor spirit. Who are they to decide who lives, who dies, and how they shall live or die? They aren’t; it’s rhetorical. She was thinking this, speaking with herself, reasoning through it all.

But…who was she to say they were wrong? By killing them she would have done what she exactly seeks to destroy.

No, no she wouldn’t. I don’t… she didn’t exist anymore. Valorae was nothing, long dead and part of the Ukalas. This thing that walked the plains of Mizahar was just some shell. Tool of the gods, right? That’s why Syna had not come for her? She was just a discarded object. Or, even, an object in use. The gods work in mysterious ways, perhaps. She would end the lives of those who’d seek to end others. She was dead, by now, inside. What was left was fragments of something special and beautiful waiting to be rejuvenated in the loving warmth of another who could find the means to love her. She was not yet destroyed and filled up with something other, just broken…conflicted…

Short of a psychotic break, the whole event had been enlightening. She prophesized her future. She would reach the summit of that mountain, among the divine alike, and have conquered all between that heaven and the world below. However, before she’d make this all a reality, she’d need the means to reach this end. The right tools, skills, and resources alike she’d need.

She looked back at that sword a few feet from her. She pulled herself up and zombie walked over before she fully knelt down and took it up in her right hand. She thought it felt a bit heavier. Maybe she was just so drained from that madness before. A neat little dagger lay on the floor a bit further from it, something wildly tossed from the rack. She recalled the weight of it as it left her hand. It clearly wasn’t meant to be tossed. The smooth curve looked like something that would sneak through any plate to one’s heart. She took it up in her left.

The work space she had would not suffice. She laid the weapons down neatly next to each other. Valorae cleaned the room, replacing what weapons seemed to go where. Nothing was damaged more than ingrained dirt, even then depending on the landing. The sword and dagger waited there for her, the final pieces. She took them up and made her wait to the dummies, for once. She had the general idea of the stance in mind, now to test her strength.

Smash! The sword blade struck at the neck and the thing bent a little. They were damn heavy, and she felt the recoil like no other. No more pain… She raised the sword back, the tip pointed at the dummy’s chest. She saw their faces, and struck again…

by **Valorae** on March 18th, 2012, 2:35 am

Valorae centered her aim on the neck on either side. It’d be a nice kill shot if people ran around naked and unaware. The blade came down and slit the throat of the victim, blood splattered everywhere, gurgling of blood, it was invigorating to imagine. Her arm bent and twisted back and struck the other side. The collar bone broke and bent in and the artery ran dry, finishing him.

The wooden dummies had enough blunt markings on them as it was, bashed in by even the sharpen ends of the weapon replicas. The amount of pressure applied must have simply pressed everything together. It bothered her a bit; how unrealistic is could all be without the back and forth. She wouldn’t stand there and kill him, as much as she’d like to… In fact she felt exposed herself. She couldn’t fight like this; she knew she’d need armor. She’d seen the guards and all that covered them. A leather piece across her chest at the very least would be a necessity.

As if that were all, she thought of what would happen when they struck back! Why she’d be the dummy standing in place. And to tap her opponent like this dummy would just be ineffective. She didn’t have the power striking with the tip. Again, it’d be a rather ideal kill to just cut the neck right across and watch the blood flow, but the chances were pathetic… She moved in closer and already felt the invasion of privacy. That Myrian part of her, despite all reason, loved it. What she felt now, could easily be turned into the reaction of her enemy. Don’t back down, don’t let up, strike them dead, all of them! It’d be suicide to do such with no armor, but she had a sense she’d be better prepared for the Blood Pits. A quick death is never entertaining.

The merciless blood thirst of her night half was to her every benefit. Even if she didn’t realize what she was, who she was, or what her capabilities were, there was that knowledge that this was comfortable and that it would only be a matter of time. Oh time, in dear time she’d figure it all out, and then… Well, few know that. That was assuming her success and survival, and her escape after that. Escape from this, by the gods – she’d need a god’s help for such a thing. If she doesn’t them all before then, she might just be in luck.

She swung out with her fullest force, stepping forward on her right, and then changed legs. The dagger was brought around against the dummy’s throat. In some elegant spin she curled toward her left and let the blade swing in full as if to decapitate the target. It struck the wood with a solid clap and she stopped. The recoil in her arm was always a pain. Was this what it felt like to really fight? There’s another factor working against her. It even hurt to hurt someone else. It hurt to strike a dummy!

A whistle from behind her sounded. Her time was up. The hooded figures commanded her to replace the weapons and resume her position. They went through the routine and took her back to where ever she was kept. She made a habit of counting her steps. They took the same path each time, the same pace, the same time. The last few steps always left her with an unpleasant sinking in her stomach. Another day gone, another day…wasted.

by **Valorae** on March 18th, 2012, 3:16 am

Once in her little cell, before she’d eat and sleep, before the changing of the sky from sun to moon, she had this bit of time to herself. She put herself against the wall, heels together. She pushed her knees down, stretching the groin and inner thigh. She could almost touch her knees to the ground; they were a few inches away. She kept her back straight and leaned forward. Slowly, wish her head left to hang, she let her consciousness drift.

Valorae’s head bobbed a little as she let her mind drift off. She looked hard into her own eye lids, inside her mind, and brought her hands up over them. She saw the lightest contrast in the blackness. Waves of something lighter flowed over, from the center of her focus outward past her. It was like flying through the void. There was symmetry, static, energy all being transferred in existence in this weird place inside her mind. Her eyes started to hurt from even the light pressure and she removed her hands, but kept her eyes closed.

She let the intake of light from the torches beyond her chamber fill her world. The long road ahead was lit up by the sun at the mountain’s pinnacle. Those dark woods around her didn’t look so fearsome anymore. The glowing eyes had changed color and become something mortal and reminiscent of people she’d seen eye to eye. They could step out at any time and challenge her, but she felt ready. She twitched a bit in the real world, her head jerking back. She let it lay back entirely, just short of bashing against the wall. The sense of suspension let her hover in this meditation. She would not only tread the long road, but glide upon it with ease. The world around her would be blocked out, and soon she’d see the sun. Her vision lit up brighter as if Syna had appeared before her.

The door was open, and some platter or another tossed in front of her, the door slammed afterwards. She leaned back up, her concentration shattered. She loathingly looked at the “food” and started over toward it. She didn’t notice her shift in appearance, until now with her curly hair falling over her face. She’d dine, sleep, and do it again tomorrow. She knew now what she must do though. It was her or them, and not even the gods would prevent her victory. She swore it.

by **Archelon** on March 18th, 2012, 7:24 pm

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