Trapped in Terror
January 5, 2015
They must have somehow sensed he had gained conscious, for as soon as he did, five huge Ripperkah were sent into his black cell. Ripperkah favor edged weapons and they cut with savage stabs and thrusts. Soon almost every inch of him bled and the Xemmoni topped off their abuse with moral stabs to his stomach. Jack was forced to heal himself or die and then they would just start over again.
He quickly realized they were trying to get him to spend all his mystic reserves, so as the third beating drew to a close, he only healed himself just enough to stay alive. Perhaps figuring their job was done, the five scarlet covered Ripperkah spat on his near naked body and left the room.
He managed to get into a seated position and dragged himself through an inch of his own blood, which had collected on the floor. Taking in his surroundings didn’t leave him feeling any better. The cell itself, even the door, was constructed from what looked to be a single piece of black obsidian. He didn’t need to waste any resources checking to see in his Mold Nature spell would work on it. The substance felt completely corrupted and he knew from experience that his spells would be all but useless against it. The door looked as close to sealed as glass could get. He might have been able to sneak through as a small snake, but didn’t favor his chances of making-
The door slammed open revealing Vail Darken backed by enough Xemmoni to start a small war. Feathers, skulls and tattoos covered his body from crown to boots. For again only his knee high pirate boots and cutlass disturbed the image of him really being from this world, that, and the waves of reality melting power that emanated from him.
“Primus! You dog of light. Do not think that I am unaware of what has occurred in your world’s Boston and what you have fled from like the coward you are. It is because of you we still have this war, that we still have all of you! Dealing with one of you on this world is annoying enough, but to have to survive two. Such is intolerable,” a baby eating smile passed across his bearded face. “But will, in the case, luckily be short lived.”
“Can’t really knock a guy for engaging in self preservation.”
“Oh don’t even start with your heroic quips. I’m in no mood. All I need to know is where the scroll you have stolen is located.”
Jack knew that he had hid it in the last place they had camped before they had reached Mythcul’s village. He had been afraid that it could have been a beacon to guide others there and didn’t want to endanger them. He would have destroyed it if he could have, but the thing seemed indestructible. But he remained happy he had done something to it, for if it was still in his possession he, and many of the heroes fighting Vile across the Multi-Verse, might all already be dead.
“I left it in that tunnel that stretches between planes. You know, the one with all the round doorways. I’m sure a man such as yourself has been there.”
“Yes, of course I have, but I don’t believe even one as stupid as you could do such a thing.” He smiled again—a smile which spoke of agony, misery, the end of all things good. He leaned in closer and Jack saw the insanity that leaked from his dark eyes. “You know out of all of the everywhere heroes, I think I might hate you the most.” He pulled a jagged obsidian knife from his belt. “I’m really going to enjoy this.”
But before Vile could inflict his first cut, the world around Jack exploded in a prismatic ball of bright light. One moment he was about to bleed out his life, the other he lay face down in the dust of a sand driven desert.
Again he managed to get himself into a seated position. No one was near him. Nothing was near him. In every direction an infinitive stretch of nothingness stretched.
Forcing his abused body to his feet, he said, “Ah… I guess this is an improvement?”
To be continued next Monday