He walked to the throne and sat.He walked to the throne and sat. The scene unfolded as another contingent walked in from the left, dragging an enormously muscled human, who was fighting and kicking and roaring as they did, but since the four 'guards' were Uncia, I doubted him much success. He was hauled in front of the Markal, who sat looking at the this scene with a touch of amusement. Rising, the Markal said, "So you are Debard. They say you have yet to be broken, although you came here as a slave." Dane (the Markal) had a deep and gravely voice, perfect for his role. "I am no one's slave," Debard answered, sweat or oil glistening off his skin as he moved. His hair was a long strand of gold down his back, braided and falling. "Ah, but you are. You are MINE!" Dane's roar was wonderful. "And you will learn what it means to come to Rhysh as you did." There was a long pause. Debard glanced left, then right. He leapt for the stage. The four guards who had led him were more than ready. They soon had him back on the lowest step, struggling. "Bind him," Dane said with a throwaway gesture. Long, thick ropes were secured to Debard's wrists, and then to rings set into posts placed in the Hall for just such a purpose. "Now then, Debard," Dane said, in the most off-hand voice I had ever heard, "kneel." "I am nobody's slave, and I. Will. Not. Kneel." "YES, YOU WILL!" Dane roared. "Yes, you will. Or I shall wreak unspeakable harm upon you." The Markal gestured, and a slight wisp of a femFelinz walked up behind Debard. |