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Chapter 15 - Abuse

Misandra finds herself chained to a cross inside a ritual circle. And nude. And collared. She has been trained for this. In theory. Her alma mater does not go that far. She doubts anybody does. A hooded man is standing in front of her. He smells human. As an elf growing up on a human dominated island, you learn to tell. The last thing she remembers is their skimmer crashing into the ground.

Asking about her team would imply weakness. Silence is advisable.

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Gabrielle insisted on using the tent by herself alone to camp. Russell had not expected that level of pettiness from a priestess, so his iron rank bones smart from an uncomfortable night, while she dips crystal wash over herself behind the tent.

RC: You were a bit unclear about our destination yesterday.

GP: I was evasive, not unclear. Our destination is people who are about to move.

RC: I am assuming that you’d tell me if our path has become wrong.

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Roderick Geller drops his whole head into the creek. It holds too little water to scoop it out. He slurps and licks it from the wet rock. His head shoots up. He jumps. The spider pounces under him. He is already coming down again, his spear point down. The spider is stupid enough to rear up and open his maw widely. The spear point penetrates the all the way, seeing the light of the day out of a place the sun is proverbially not shining in.

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There is one part of his essence abilities he is quite reluctant to show. He has stopped caring, though there is nobody to watch anyway. He points to a flatter spot of ground.

Let what nature provides to a hunter’s spear be a joy to man’s tongue.

A translucent barbecue station emerges from the ground and eventually solidifies. His spear vanishes back into his storage, which magically cleans weapons. He pulls a survival knife from a sheath on his belt and undresses.

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The man moves at high rank speed to her side. A mechanical sound rings out. Misandra is rapidly tilted backwards. She does squeal. There is a difference between a lecture and the real thing. He chuckles. She retorts „Your mother would be proud of you.“

„She actually is. So would my wife be.“ His voice is dry and detached.

Misandra will not give him the added satisfaction of seeing her squirm. Though she has no delusions of keeping her terror out of her aura.

He chuckles again. „I will not insult your intelligence. Be afraid. There is no need to impress me. Yet, I need to entertain my crew.“ Her muscles tense.

He retreats at leisure. „But not right now. I will give you the opportunity of anticipation and uncertainty.“

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Lykha watches the recording crystal and coldly states:

I have been captured. The fate of my team is unknown to me. My chances of escape seem negligable for now.