Roger dismissed his shroud, seeing that it wasn't doing much anymore, and stifled an annoyed laugh. I kept HIM waiting? Damn Ogre. Roger's right arm wandered to where his dagger should have been, except that dagger was now a twisted wreck, quite unfit for any sort of combat.
"You certainly are good at getting my attention. A bit more of that and I think you could drive a Pontiff insane." Roger crossed his arms in front of him, "So, whoever you are, are you going to try to kill me or can I be on my way?"
Riiiight. "So, you don't want to kill me. But, you are interested in my "life essence?" That is my power isn't it? I suppose that's just another way of saying you are interested in using me." Like everyone else.
As odd as it was that the ogre was speaking without moving, Roger ignored it. He was more concerned with what lie in front of him than with the smaller details.
"Grixis? I've heard that name before somewhere. I can't seem to recall, it's like a dream."
He started pacing up and down the room by the smoke barrier. It was like something clicked in his mind and gears were beginning to turn, but these gears were old and rusted. "Grixis? I wonder..."
"Riiiiight." Roger says as if he expected an "I'm only joking" from Grol.
"Listen Grol, you can call yourself whatever you wish, but if you need me to get you back to Grixis I'm not going to call you by any title. Only place I'd find that acceptable would be if you were teaching me something. Even then, "Master" isn't going to work. "Teacher" maybe." He says this matter-of-fact, with no hint of sarcasm.
The smoldering corpses on each side of Grol exploded into towering infernos. The great ogre stood, and as he did, it became painfully clear how massive the creature truly was.
In a flash, Grol moved across the arena floor, grabbed Roger in one hand, lifted him above his head, and pinned him against the wall of the arena.
Roger found it almost impossible to breath as his life was being squeezed out of him.
"Make no mistake, Roger Dredge. You are not my equal, and you will not act as if you are. You live and breath now out of my own merciful whims."
Grol squeezed tighter, and Roger could feel a few of his ribs give in to the increased pressure.
"All I need is the soul held within your body. It is entirely possible for me to take it and use it for my own purposes. The only reason, the only reason I let you live is for my own selfish intentions."
Grol turned, flung his arm, and released Roger, sending him to the sandy floor. "I let you live so I can teach you what I know. Do not squander my mercy with your pride."
Grol turned and walked towards the exit of the practice arena. "I will contact you later. For now, pick your self up and go find a healer."
IDIOT, You did that to see how he'd react didn't you? Roger's thoughts yelled at him through the pain. What the hell did you think he would do? Laugh it off as a joke? IDIOT
Grol left Roger, a disheveled pile of agony, in the dark practice area. He could feel that at least one of his ribs were broken and his chest was bruised. He sat in the dark for about two or three more minutes before finally pushing against the wall to get himself up. The trek back up to the main hallways of the arena was very difficult. Roger hasn't ever broken anything serious before and, for a black mage, didn't have much experience with pain. For him, this was worse than the blood illusions.
After what seemed like an eternity Roger had arrived back in a populated hallway. If he had been paying attention he would have noted that people were looking at him strangely. Had he have been paying attention he would have heard others asking if he was doing alright. However, he wasn't, he was so narrowly focused on getting to someone who could remove his pain that he didn't even notice when he passed out.
Roger fades back into consciousness what seems like an eternity later. When he opens his eyes, he realizes that he's looking at a piece of canvas cloth about six feet in front of him. He doesn't seem to be leaning up against a wall or floor or anything. They usually aren't this comfortable.
Roger slowly brought his gaze down and then swept it around him. He tried to move as little as possible, paranoid that one of the many people who wanted him dead had taken him captive. He tensed his arms and legs to see if he was bound and tried to get a sense of where he was.
He wasn't bound by anything. His shifting did make noise on blankets that appeared to be covering him. It slowly dawned on him that he was in a comfortable bed.
About then, his ribs resumed aching. They felt better, but they still hurt.
Just as he was about to give into to an impulse to leap out of the bed and rush to make an escape Roger realized where he was and why he was here. Hospital, horrible ogre, Grixis, searing pain, master, trouble with <snip>, unknown planeswalker, Tilia... The memories flashed through quickly, but it was enough to sober him from his sleepy state. How long had he been here? He couldn't say. He felt helpless in this comfortable bed. Panic began to set in.
He wasn't concerned with masking his movements anymore. He was, however, conserned with finding his satchel. The house emblem inside would give away his identity and might bring over someone he did not want to see. He also needed his spells, there was only so much he could do without them. So Roger, in pain, shuffled around to the sides of the bed to look around for his things.
A medic, someone he recognized from the Festival, appears as he started to move. "Hey, hey, take it easy. You got hurt pretty badly," she says, and puts a hand on his shoulder to gently ease him down.
Thank the gods. Someone who isn't out to kill me. "I apologize but, here come, what I can only assume to be, a pretty standard barrage of questions: Where am I? How long was I out? Where are my things? Who are you?"
She laughs. "Only for people we have to carry in here. You're in one of the healing tents at the Estark Arena, you were out for a little more than four hours, your things are under your bed. My name is Janassi."
"I suppose that's true. I'm Roger, pleased to meet you." He sighed as he lay back in his bed. "Do you know what was wrong with me? Last thing I remember was that I felt like I was burning, and I think some of my ribs were broken."
Roger cringed at the description of his ribs, then answered her question. "I... I am not sure. Did I enter any events today?" He paused for a moment, pretending to think, "All I can remember from this morning is burning pain. It must have been something here, I'm not a reckless individual. At least, I hope I'm not." Roger stuck a look on his face like he was trying to remember.
"Fanfare? I doubt that, over half the crowd was enraged thinking that I cheated in some way." He spoke nonchalantly, but it was obvious from his forced tone that he was uncomfortable with his newfound fame. "You think that's what this is? Someone catch me from behind, angry because he lost a bet?" He spoke this as if he thought he found the truth. "Well, whatever case, I'm still alive." He paused for a second, as if remembering something, "Could you get my things for me? I'd like to see if anything was stolen. This way we can rule out whether I was mugged or not."
"You certainly are good at getting my attention. A bit more of that and I think you could drive a Pontiff insane." Roger crossed his arms in front of him, "So, whoever you are, are you going to try to kill me or can I be on my way?"
thanks DarkNightCavalier for the sig!
My Trade Thread
The Ogre, though he speaks, remains otherwise completely still.
As odd as it was that the ogre was speaking without moving, Roger ignored it. He was more concerned with what lie in front of him than with the smaller details.
thanks DarkNightCavalier for the sig!
My Trade Thread
The Ogre chuckled with a horrendous laugh reminiscent of bull begin strangled.
"In a sense, I fully intend to use you, but you will more than find substance with what I have planned."
"Sure, fine. Use me like everyone else. What is it you expect us to do that will serve us greatly?
thanks DarkNightCavalier for the sig!
My Trade Thread
"I believe you are my key to return to Grixis."
He started pacing up and down the room by the smoke barrier. It was like something clicked in his mind and gears were beginning to turn, but these gears were old and rusted. "Grixis? I wonder..."
thanks DarkNightCavalier for the sig!
My Trade Thread
He almost seemed to be examining him as if he were a sample in an experiment.
He stopped pacing looking back at him in a scrutinized manner. "Two things then: Who are you? And what is your plan?"
thanks DarkNightCavalier for the sig!
My Trade Thread
The ogre took a deep breath, and exhaled before continuing. "As for my name, it's Grol. Though you may simply refer to me as Master."
"Riiiiight." Roger says as if he expected an "I'm only joking" from Grol.
"Listen Grol, you can call yourself whatever you wish, but if you need me to get you back to Grixis I'm not going to call you by any title. Only place I'd find that acceptable would be if you were teaching me something. Even then, "Master" isn't going to work. "Teacher" maybe." He says this matter-of-fact, with no hint of sarcasm.
thanks DarkNightCavalier for the sig!
My Trade Thread
In a flash, Grol moved across the arena floor, grabbed Roger in one hand, lifted him above his head, and pinned him against the wall of the arena.
Roger found it almost impossible to breath as his life was being squeezed out of him.
"Make no mistake, Roger Dredge. You are not my equal, and you will not act as if you are. You live and breath now out of my own merciful whims."
Grol squeezed tighter, and Roger could feel a few of his ribs give in to the increased pressure.
"All I need is the soul held within your body. It is entirely possible for me to take it and use it for my own purposes. The only reason, the only reason I let you live is for my own selfish intentions."
Grol turned, flung his arm, and released Roger, sending him to the sandy floor. "I let you live so I can teach you what I know. Do not squander my mercy with your pride."
Grol turned and walked towards the exit of the practice arena. "I will contact you later. For now, pick your self up and go find a healer."
After his last words, Grol was gone.
Grol left Roger, a disheveled pile of agony, in the dark practice area. He could feel that at least one of his ribs were broken and his chest was bruised. He sat in the dark for about two or three more minutes before finally pushing against the wall to get himself up. The trek back up to the main hallways of the arena was very difficult. Roger hasn't ever broken anything serious before and, for a black mage, didn't have much experience with pain. For him, this was worse than the blood illusions.
After what seemed like an eternity Roger had arrived back in a populated hallway. If he had been paying attention he would have noted that people were looking at him strangely. Had he have been paying attention he would have heard others asking if he was doing alright. However, he wasn't, he was so narrowly focused on getting to someone who could remove his pain that he didn't even notice when he passed out.
thanks DarkNightCavalier for the sig!
My Trade Thread
thanks DarkNightCavalier for the sig!
My Trade Thread
About then, his ribs resumed aching. They felt better, but they still hurt.
He wasn't concerned with masking his movements anymore. He was, however, conserned with finding his satchel. The house emblem inside would give away his identity and might bring over someone he did not want to see. He also needed his spells, there was only so much he could do without them. So Roger, in pain, shuffled around to the sides of the bed to look around for his things.
thanks DarkNightCavalier for the sig!
My Trade Thread
thanks DarkNightCavalier for the sig!
My Trade Thread
thanks DarkNightCavalier for the sig!
My Trade Thread
She looks at him curiously, "You didn't get these injuries in one of our arenas, did you?"
thanks DarkNightCavalier for the sig!
My Trade Thread
thanks DarkNightCavalier for the sig!
My Trade Thread