Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-17114085-20161103102851/@comment-24366541-20161105190751

Arieus was once again removed from his cell, taken to the resident Scion mage and ruthlessly cut, healed, cut and heal for an hour.

"Give up Witcher! Resistance if futile and you know it! Embrace Thralldom, the pain will end!" the vampire practically yelled.

"Nnn-ever Fangs..."

"How were you trained?" The vampire asked fully knowing the answer.

"Arieus Ironside, Witcher Junior Adept, 3rd Generation..." He uttered just as he had with all the previous questions.

The vampire then proceeded to stab a Shiv into Reus's abdomen, remove it and cauterize the wound.

"Take this fool back to his cell"

Arieus sat in his small cell, holding the portrait of the only woman his age who hadn't feigned and ridiculed him for his being Witcher, the young lady had seen him as more than the title that he'd attained.

Aerith Black-Brair, daughter to the King and Queen of the Jerall Hold.

Arieus had met the Princess during one of her guardless excursions in Riften, where she'd visited the Temple of Mara, only to be beset by a drunk patron of the age old Bee and Barb, who he had promptly dispatched.

The Witcher had always retreated into his memories when the torture sessions came, reliving his brief moments with Aerith, the evening on Mistveil Keep's roof, the visitation of Goldenglow and his most cherished memory, that saved him from giving in to the pain, their kiss in the overflowing gardens of Mara.

When you're with me everything's alright Aerith...

---

Reus awoke once again on the floor, the burning of the wound removing all the weariness.

"Thrall! Call Mother Bal... I have something I'd like to share"

Ironside, this better work.