LtoS: Team A - Part 2

“Speak scum, before I cut out your tongue.” Growls the torturer, his rusted chainmail splattered with blood.

“Please, please! Gods above! I relent.” Cries the elderly Feyren. Her face is bruised along one side where she was struck to the ground by the club of a raider. Her garb, once pristine and priestly, is saturated with mud and blood. Her opaque, pallid eyes dart around the room, unable to find escape.

“Your friends in the village told us that you know what we’re looking for. Cough up quick and I won’t have to remove the information from you.” As the torturer leans in close to the priestess, his reeking breath causes her to grimace.

“You don’t know what you’ll unleash with it. You cannot possibly wish this fate on the realms.”

“Knowing isn’t my place. My place is extracting. I’m good at it too, but I’m sure you don’t want me to prove that to you?” As he speaks, the torturer fondles the hilt of a cruel-looking dagger at his waist. The blade is slightly curved and forged of black iron that glints maliciously in the light of burning thatch.

“The Skull of Grinwald Ironborne is not some minor magical trinket. Its power will consume all who touch it. Please, Gods above, relent! Nought but chaos lies this way!”

“Exactly.” The black iron dagger appears in the priestesses’ field of vision and she shudders. The torturer brings it closer and closer to her bruised face and presses it against her eye socket. “I don’t enjoy this, you know.” He mutters under his breath. “I just have a talent is all.”

“It’s not far from here. A forgotten barrow. I can draw a map. Hear my words though, you shall regret this.” Defeated, the priestess slumps back in the chair, her bonds loosening around her downy arms.

“Thank you, old lady. You’ve saved us both a lot of hassle.” As the torturer sheaths his blade, he signals to one of the lackeys standing in the corner of the room. They produce a quill, ink, and parchment from a satchel and hand it to the priestess, then begin to untie her bonds. “One false move and these two will fill you with crossbow bolts.” The torturer sneers, indicating towards her captors.

Quickly, with shaking hands, the priestess scrawls a map of the local area. She draws upon it the location of the village, and a rough line indicating a trail to a hilltop some distance away. Looking up, her lavender eyes flare with fear. “That’s the barrow. That’s where you’ll find it.”

“Our most sincere thanks.” The torturer nods toward one of the guards standing by the door, who looses a crossbow bolt into the woman’s chest. She slumps forward once more, this time entirely devoid of life. “Can’t have [Team B] getting word of our business now can we?” The torturer chuckles to his companions. “Get this map to [Team A Leader] with our fastest rider.”