A Lost Friend.

A single torch flickered beside the large metal door, the flames dancing in the faint gusts of wind and igniting the room in a dim light, the puddles upon the floor grew larger as the water continued to trickle down the walls, the smell of mould residing within the room.

In the darkest corner she could find lay the beaten and broken mind and body of the missing member, hiding for what good it would do her, deep cuts and darkened bruises covered her body from the torture her captor had placed her through.

A single table resided within the centre of the room, laying upon it a thick obsidium chain covered in blood from the victim, a pool of blood residing just beneath it.

Footsteps could be heard coming down the hall leading to the room that she now lived within, a large clank of metal and the rusting sound of metal scraping across the door as the bolt was undone, the figure stepped in, walking towards the table shrouded in shadow his face contorted into that of a horrifying monster, the tauren placed his torch down, laughing maniacally as he slid the chain from the table and walked to her, stopping as she looked up to him weakly.

She'd lied to him, sent him where she knew the order and Aron wouldn't be for certain, just to stop the pain, the torture, give her a break.

It hadn't lasted long and now he was back and was angrier then before, he grabbed her arm and dragged her to the middle of the room, the thoughts of screaming had left her head weeks ago now, she'd realized there was no point, nobody would hear her, or come for her and making a break for the door was no use any more.

She'd tried once, the trolls outside had stopped her and dragged her back and now she could barely walk, he'd made sure of that, her armor had been pulled from her, only the underlying cloth remained, torn and covered in blood.

She fell against the cold stone of the rooms floor again with a splash into a stagnating pool of water, she covered her face and used what energy she had gained to move into a position for protection.

He laughed as he stood and watched her, he began to speak but she was no longer sure what he was saying as the chain whipped down onto her skin again, he pulled it across her taut flesh as the pain worked through her body and something began to trickle down across her body, she flinched and screamed.

They came again, the tears began to roll down her face, the pain becoming unbearable as the room began to spin around her, her mind raced.

-Give him what he wants, This will stop-

She shook her head, a argument began between her head and heart again.

-Don't give him anything, He'd only kill you if you did-

He barked for her to answer him, the tauren towered over her his eyes glowing the ice cold blue of a death knight, she screamed and began to shuffle to her corner, he laughed again maniacally and pulled her back to the centre of the room, letting her fall from a greater height this time.

“My name is Ascendien Darnell, I know nothing of the person or order you ask about!” Her voice croaked as she spoke, she knew all to well about them but would not have them harmed whether they came for her or not.

Her comm still worked, she'd spoken with Badra, one of her closest friends, made her promise to bring her home no matter what.

Badra had tried to convince her she'd come home again, but the girl had lost hope weeks ago, given into the fates that seemed to be pressing down upon her, it was only a matter of time now.

The tauren laughed maniacally again, lifting the chain he whipped it across her skin again as she quickly curled herself up, no sound from her this time as the world gave one final spin and all went dark the blood trailing down and across her body as she lay motionless upon the floor.

The tauren grinned, slamming the chain down on the table and picking up his torch he left the room, promising her to return later that night, the door slammed into the frame and the bolt was pulled back across and locked, the floor shook as he walked away.

Ascendien however remained where she had fallen, motionless and shrouded in darkness within the pool of stagnating water that washed across her injury’s.

A lifeless husk lay in the middle of the floor, bandages long covered in blood and stagnant water, her eyes staring at where the man enters daily to question her, She dare not move anymore and unsure if she'd even be able too.

A noise, his boots scrapping along the floor as he laughs and jokes with those outside, her mind wanders as she closes her eyes only to find darkness, her memory's leaving her, betraying her and leaving her to die a slow painful death.

No news has been heard from anyone through the comms, she wonders if it has finally broken in all the beatings and water she has been left to lay in.

No pain is felt, long since left with the last beating she continues to stare as the light flickers around the room from the single torch by the door, she fears the torch now.

Used against her in his time of desperation the burns cover her lifeless unfeeling skin, Her mind continues to try and clings to her surroundings, unwilling to give up it searches for some memory to keep her alive.

Thus far, it has found nothing.

Nice Leov.

She spits the water out as the lights dim, falling against the floor again she lays staring at what she thinks is the ceiling, unsure of whats up and whats down anymore.

Her name and identity long forgotten, the questions he asks long since lost in her memory, no more pain, bandages and infections do not bother her any longer as her body becomes completely numb.

She smiles to herself, no pain, no fear, she begins to make her peace with the approaching ending, she passes in and out of consciousness, for how long nobody knows.

He visits regularly but no longer asks anything of her, just sits and watches her wither, mocking her, she tunes out his voice, she no longer cares.

The blood seeps through the bandages and the dungeon now smells of stagnant water, blood and infection, it is clear that death lingers close by waiting for it's opportune moment as she waits for Death to collect her, hoping it will be swift now.

He try's to feed her, strengthen her, she's no longer interested in life, only in death, her coms lay shattered on the floor from his heavy foot fall.

All that remains now is to see what will become of this Rise of the Dawn member.

Who will go to her aid?

Having trailed around Dragonblight and Storm Peaks he was sick to the stomach he had arrived at the Argent Tournament Grounds.

This area was a distasteful waste of time. The Argent Dawn and their warriors should be out fighting evil and bringing peace and order throughout the world. They could do much for Alliance and Horde relations. Insted they stay here and fight, showing off like palace peacocks. The real fight is elsewhere, he had told them that before.

He was really sick though because he returned asking for information, for help finding a real soldier. He had spent three months in the most inhospitable lands the world (and Outland) had to offer and turned up nothing.

He had questioned many. Alliance were easier than Horde, but he had spoken to each as best his abilities could. He was not an Inquisitor and detested their "techniques", but maybe he would better serve Lady Ascendien were he to stoop to that level - it was doubtless the level of her captors from what he had heard on the comm.

He had to do something. Those seemingly in the know had been wrapped up in themselves, inefficient or lazy. He could not just twiddle his thumbs waiting for the next agonised cry for help. He would not be criticised for doing nothing or too little.

Throughout his time in the cold north he had needed all his wits to eat as well as survive, though the enemy here were no match for him now unless in numbers. A few had recognised his tabard. A few knew who he served beside. A couple had even shown recollection of Lady Ascendien, but nothing recent, nothing solid. Hungry and tired he was not at his best. He needed to be now though - the irony was he needed his wits more to talk to those that should help than those who really had no need to.

He now stood before the tent of the commanders here, cold, tired, face raw and hands numb to ask a men he had huge differences with to help him. Would they put their vanity and arrogance aside or would they be petty. Blast them all they had better help, a better lady than they even are men is out there suffering or worse.

If only the mages would do better or the Holy Light send him a sign or a messenger. Justice was needed many places and there will be some if only he could find her location. He felt exhasperated, even desperate, and offered a silent prayer for a chance to rescue his comrade before her light faded.

Well worded, Gus. I love it. Although he has a rather critical view of the Argent Tournament Grounds, one I would most definitely like to hear in character.

((Gustavus regards tournaments, duels and pomp and pageantry in general as a waste of everyone's time. If a great knight has a mishap and gets a lance somewhere vital then a good soldier has been wasted for nothing. Training is different of course as it is "low key" and not sensationalistic. He does not do ostentation very well generally and tolerates money as a necessary evil.

He does not think the Argent Dawn are anything other than fine warriors though. He would rather they were actually fighting bad people than each other!))