Phoenix (anduril_phoenix) wrote in fantasywriters,
Phoenix
anduril_phoenix
fantasywriters

Scarred

I've posted a previous version of this before, but it's been awhile. So I've edited heavily, and I'm finally happy with this bit, I think. So posting in hopes of some constructive criticism.

Rating: NC-17
Warnings: torture, rape, language
Summary: A simple mission goes very wrong.

“Natahl, come forward.”

Upon hearing her name, the small dark elf made her way to the dais on the other side of the room, where the leaders of the Thieves Guild sat. The middle one, a well-dressed and effeminate male, addressed her. “Your trainer has told us that you are ready for your final test. Alrik has also told us that you’ve performed well in your previous tests. You have shown skill in finding whatever information is needed, as well as remaining undetected. His only complaint is your lack of diplomacy in dealing with your fellow trainees.”

One of the council members snickered. “That’s one way to put it.”

“The last bastard called me a drow,” Natahl protested.

“Those altercations aside,” the one in the middle said over everyone. “Alrik and I have decided you’re ready to take on this task. One of the human ambassadors has started holding council meetings—ones that he has neglected to tell our people about, much less invite us to. Obviously, we’re a bit insulted, and are curious as to why we’re being left out. However, if we go to him about his supposedly secret meetings, he’ll deny them completely, or even if he does tell us what has gone on, how would we know the truth of it? From what we’ve learned he holds these meetings in a room in a seldom-used wing of his mansion. Conveniently enough, there is a hole in the room next to where they meet, and there’s a small walkway between the walls, as well as a niche for a small-enough person to crawl into and hear every word that goes on in that room.”

“So you want me to listen in on what the council has to say, and see if any of it affects the Thieves Guild in some way. So where’s this unused wing in the mansion?”

“Alrik will tell you where to go. Wait until after sunset. The meetings are usually at night. Good luck to you.”

Natahl took that as a dismissal, and turned and left the room. She made her way to the trainee’s living quarters, and into the small cubicle she shared with two others. Luckily they were elsewhere. The relative quiet in the quarters was a nice change, she decided, rummaging through the wooden trunk at the foot of her cot. Once she had found her clothing of choice for the night, she turned her attention to her hair, removing the hairpins that kept it up at that moment. She was careful not to pull the knives from their sheathes while doing so. That had been a painful lesson. The ornaments were placed on a small table near her cot, and Natahl grabbed several of the much smaller hairpins, and set to twisting and pinning the hip-length braid so it would stay the hell out of her way. She moved and tossed her head a few times, testing how well the pins held. Once she was satisfied with the result, she grabbed a black silk scarf from the table as well, wrapping it so that none of her white hair showed. Next came the garments she had chosen, black silk pants and shirt, then thin-soled boots. Daggers went into sheathes in her boots. Not having her swords at her sides felt strange, but then no one in their right mind crawled through tiny spaces with large weapons.

“I heard you’ve been given an assignment,” Alrik’s voice said outside her cubicle as she was sheathing her daggers.

“My final test,” she confirmed.

Her trainer nodded, looking her up and down with his one eye. “Do you have any weapons at all?”

“Of course. You always told me that I should never go anywhere without at least one weapon,” she replied.

“Smart girl. From what I’ve been told, the ambassador is meeting with his council in an hour. You’ll want to use the entrance in the northern wing of the mansion. They rarely post guards over there. You can’t miss it—it’s damn near overgrown and the stone’s starting to crumble in places. Once you’re in the building, go to the second floor, and the chamber you will want to enter is the third door on your left. There’s a tapestry on the wall, and behind it is a small hole, which is where you want to go. And from there, there’s only one way anywhere, so follow the walkway, and you’ll find where you’re supposed to be. So run along. And pass your damn test or I’ll skin you alive.”

Natahl laughed. “This is, by far, the easiest test I’ve been given. I’ll see you in a few hours, Alrik.”

He nodded, and she took her leave, putting on a mask to cover the lower half of her face once she entered the city streets. The ambassador's mansion was a short walk away, and the streets were devoid of people. The abandoned northern side of the estate was completely empty, making her climb over the wall and entrance into the uninhabited wing uneventful. This is just a little too easy, she thought, making her way to the second floor. She found the chamber in question, and pushed open the door, half expecting it to creak loudly or make some other noise to give her away, but it made no sound. Upon entering the room, she spotted three of the household guards standing near the tapestry, waiting—most likely for her. Natahl immediately turned and dashed out the door, grabbing her knives out of her boots. One of them came out of the door after her. She threw one of the knives, and kept running, not even looking back to see if the guard had been hit. A hard blow to her back staggered her. Unfortunately it was enough time for one of them to grab hold of her. She was slammed hard against the wall, and her face mask and scarf ripped off.

“So pretty,” the bastard said, running one hand up her torso, his face so close she could smell the stale beer on him. “We’re gonna have so much fun making you talk.”

“Get the fuck off of me,” she growled, squirming around and ramming her knee between his legs.

“You—bitch!” he gasped, letting her go and doubling over. As soon as she was free, she started to run again, only for another one of them to grab her. He turned her to face him, and then backhanded her across the face, his gauntlet cutting as the blow connected.

“If you want to keep that leg you won’t do that again,” he told her.

“And if you two want to keep those tiny cocks of yours, then you won’t touch me,” she replied, earning herself another fist to the face.

The third guard made his way down the hallway. He looked down at the injured one on the floor with disgust. “All this trouble to catch a thief?”

“The bitch put up a fight,” the one holding her snapped.

“If you can’t keep hold of some little elf girl the size of a water rat, then you lot need to pick up your wooden swords again. Now, I’m going to see the ambassador about this intrusion. It stands to reason that if the girl was here, she knew about the meeting tonight, as the councilor said. I want you two to take her down to the cells and question her. I will be down with further orders as to what to do with her later.”

The one on the floor had finally pulled himself up. Both of them saluted to the third, and began the descent down the stairs. As she was being dragged along, she decided to taunt them further--better than showing fear.

“Do you really think a little pain will make me talk?”

One of them grabbed a handful of her hair and backhanded her across the face yet again. “What makes you think it will be a *little* pain?”

“What makes you think a lot of pain will make me talk?” she countered. *Calm, deep breaths.*

“Everyone talks, even arrogant little drow girls.”

Natahl couldn’t bite her tongue. “Dark elf, you half-witted trollfucker.”

“Drow, dark elf, doesn’t matter. You’ll scream like everyone else.”

“Care to wager on it?” *Will I?*

“I think I’m gonna cut out your fucking tongue when we’re done with you.”

“And then…I can’t answer your questions. Defeats the purpose just a bit, doesn’t it?”

They came to a hallway that led further down into the estate. The smell of blood and rotted flesh became increasingly strong as she was dragged down the stairs. “We’ll see if you’re so cocky when you’re screaming.”

She laughed at them, ignoring the pain in her already-bruised face.

They dragged her over to a rough-planked table, bending her facedown over it, and stretching her arms out in front of her. One of them grabbed 3 knives, both big and rusting. The other guard held her right arm to the table, and the first one raised the knife over her hand. “Last chance. Who sent you?”

*So it begins.* “Do it, you bastard,” she replied, preparing herself for the coming pain. The blade crunched through bone and tendon, sending waves of pain through her fingers and up into her arm. She clenched her teeth against the cry of pain, and watched as the blood pooled on the table on and around her hand.

“Who sent you here?” one of them growled at her, as if he thought he’d receive an answer.

“You keep asking that,” Natahl replied. “What makes you think I’ll bloody tell you?” The knife stabbing through her left hand caused her to yelp in surprise and pain.

They both laughed. “Now the fun begins. Strip the bitch.” She felt hands grab at the back of her shirt, but not before she aimed a kick behind her. The heel of her boot connected with flesh, and then there was a savage hit to her knee, bringing about blinding pain. Now that her left leg refused to bear any weight, she was unable to stop him as he once again grabbed her shirt and tore it off. He wasted no time in doing the same to her pants. A whimper escaped her before she could stop herself. "What? Never had a good fucking before?" the bastard taunted.

"Not with someone as ug-" She cut off as he forced his way inside of her. Willing herself to relax and allow the invasion took effort. Fighting down tears was harder. "Is it even in?" Natahl hoped she sounded calm.

"Shut the bitch up,. will you?" The one behind her said, pounding even harder.

The second man leered, unlacing as he walked towards her. "Never had my cock sucked by an elf before."

*Fucking pig.* "Maybe you'll be bigger than your-" She fought the urge to gag as he pushed his whole length into her mouth and began thrusting. *Fuck this.* He pulled out, and she bit down, enjoying his screams. He tried hitting her, but to no avail. Natahl just clamped down harder, tasting blood, feeling flesh beginning to tear. His screams grew louder, his blows more urgent.

Abruptly, she realized the first assault had stopped. The surprise was enough to make her let go. He moved back, making a big show of checking the damage done. She heard the first one laughing a short distance from her. "You fucking idiot. Did you think she'd just politely suck your cock?" He walked up to Natahl, the third knife back in his hands--all amusement gone. "Fun's over. Start talking."

"I'm terrified," she replied dryly.

He grabbed her braid and, with much pulling and sawing, presented it to her. "Not so pretty now, are you?" At her affected yawn, he brought the blade to one corner of her mouth, and cut. She clenched her teeth against the cry, even as he duplicated the cut on the other side. "Who sent you?" he demanded, cutting her again. She remained silent, earning another slash. And another, this one catching her left eye. She let out a startled cry as half of the world became a haze of red. "We know someone sent you," he growled. "Tell us, and it stops. It might be soon enough to save that eye."

"Fuck you," she spat. 'Never betray your employer,' Alrik had said. 'No matter what they threaten, no matter what they do. And it never hurts to taunt them a little. Keeps them off-balance.'
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