Out Of The Frying Pan (Vivid & Indowriter)

[Novellasaurus]

"Alright, clock-wise…now counter clockwise…"​

There was practically no way of seeing it, but he knew the sun was likely risen to mid-day, if not hanging precariously in the stretch of time between mid-day and evening.

It was tough to determine this with the surroundings as obstructive as they were–as agoraphobic as they were. The expanse of the wagon's corridor and it's stagnant air were incapable of absorbing any warmth from the world outside; perhaps a direct result of the greystone for the floors, the walls and the ceiling. It's glacier cold surfacing, coupled with the apparent lack of windows in the wagon design, made for a gloomy atmosphere. For that matter, these surroundings seemed to be incapable of tidiness whatsoever. It wouldn't be hard for one to feel disgust at knowing there likely wasn't one patch of flooring in the area that wasn't made sticky with long-dried blood or a liquid that he'd feel even worse about sitting in. That wasn't accounting for the plethora of matter littered all over--metal shavings, small clothing articles, broken teeth and bones all played a part in making sure the environment was miserable by scattering themselves in the corners or in unhealthy arrangements. For coloration's sake, greenish brown grime painted the walls, the floors and the bars with a sickly sludgy physicality.

Perhaps Vino was expecting too much of an Orc dungeon cart, but that possibility didn't make him any happier to be here.

It took half an hour to clean the putrid grime of his cell out of his high-seated head of hair when he was thrown in; especially with all the unsightly chunks involved in it. He wished that he could have landed a different way but, he had to admit: the strength of two rude orcs was remarkably high when combined on a much less imposing Half-Elf like him. Even with his physical appearance being of average fitness (or above average, in his humble opinion), they still had no trouble giving his shoulder a bruise and laughing at the mess of his hair and clothing. Euis had enough time since then to pick the waste and mess out of his poor attire; a toasted oat colored shirt, a dark leather vest and darker pants to match. Honestly, he probably should have tried to be just a little less noticeable if he knew he was in Orc territory to begin with. His coils weren't slow by any means, even despite their blubbery nature, but legs likely would have made being spotted a lot harder. As it was, his reflection on past choices did nothing to help his current situation, and the future situation in which he might be strung up by his neck or butchered and used in some ungodly Orc stew wasn't leaving his mind. It certainly seemed like this particular sunset would be the last Vino would ever see, and he couldn't even see it. There was only one problem with this seemingly bleak future.

This wasn't the first prison he'd found himself in, and it would become his most recent escape.

It had been an hour or so since the Orcs threw him into the Caravan, and the entire vehicle had been traveling nonstop in that time. The stretch of noisy nothingness after that was perfect, since it allowed Vino to come up with a 69% effective solution to the problem: a small yet incredibly sturdy piece of rib-bone caught his eye half an hour earlier, as part of the remains of some poor unfortunate soul that occupied this cell before him. Being a practical-minded sort, Vino saw the use in even the simplest of everyday objects; a fork could be a comb, a hook could be an extra finger, a spyglass could be used as a firestarter–the list goes on. In this distinct scenario, the sharp point of the rib looked perfect for picking rusty old locks and he had his fair share of locks picked by his hands--though, given the spacing of the bars, he had to shift his form against them and curl his arm around to the front of the cell door. It was impossible to view his progress this way, but with one of his sensitive ears pressed to the back of the lock, he was able to discern the muffled noises of clicking and turning gears that bode well for the progress he was making. It also helped the half-elf fellow to murmur the instructions he’d engraved deeply into his skull, namely on the limited methods to have a lock undone on any door. There was a certain noise that needed to be earned from the task of jamming the bone around within the metal shape of a keyhole, a certain number of metal mechanisms to be pressed by the tip. He’d made considerable progress so far.

“Down and Up, just wiggle a little more…” Vino’s voice carried no higher than a whisper, even with the noise of the cart being loud enough to drown out a dragon’s call. The last thing he needed now was to draw the unwanted attention of his captors and lose what little accomplishments he’d made.

So of course that's precisely what happened.

He first jolted from anxious surprise when a far off Orc yell was heard, and then he jolted again when the cart suddenly halted in place, before there was the noise of creaking wood, gruff voices and heavy footsteps. He couldn't make out what they were talking about, but they sounded somewhat pleased. Had he been found out somehow? Vino ripped the bone shard out of the keyhole and bolted back from the cell door, stuffing the bone into his back pocket and then trying to look relaxed and unassuming; all in time for the heavy oak door to swing open and crack loudly against the far wall.

One of the Orcs who’d captured him thundered into the short hall and Vino forced an innocent grin on his caramel face, framed by a thin yet well groomed beard. “Oh thank goodness! I was beginning to think no one would show up. I’m in terrible need of a bathroom break. Would you mind if I took a stroll outside to relieve myself, My good brute?”

The Orc didn't respond to his remark with anything more than annoyed silence. With fingers as thick sword hilts, he gripped a key and stabbed it into the keyhole, before twisting it to make the entire cell door jolt. Vino consciously resisted the urge to gag when the Orc slapped open the door and began to approach him; Orcs had a tendency to hold an air of rank, musty odor about them but he wasn't going to make himself more unfortunate by reminding this one of that. He just sat there apprehensively, eyes watering from the putrid stench as the menacing green captor towered over him by at least five feet. Goodness; his entire body was like the heavily muscled form of a Gondo Ox, dipped into green sewage and given a face even a mother couldn't love. Vino couldn't even see his eyes with his big hairy brow as furrowed as they were.

The Orc puffed steam through gaping nostrils and introduced Vino's own nose to a fresh new world of misery. "Gimme your hand, Elf."

"Well, Half-Elf actually." Vino explained immediately, curling his arms around his midsection nonchalantly. "And you know, I was actually planning on giving you my hand earlier, really was. But then I realized: I'm ambidextrous and kinda need both hands to...function in life. You know what–I'm sorry, function is probably a big word for you. It means to perform a task or–"

"Your. Hand. Now."

"...right!"

Hesitantly, Vino offered his left hand to the Orc, who immediately snatched it up in one of his own. His other hand went to reach for something, and Vino winced internally in preparation of losing a limb. But to his relief and surprise, a hatchet was not what hit his wrist–instead it was far lighter and far colder. He looked down to see a…bracelet on his wrist? Some sort of dark grey jewelry with a series of foreign green markings on the flat side and an overall unimposing appearance. He inspected it curiously to deem whether it would suddenly cut off his hand or not, then up to the Orc who'd left the cell and moved to the one directly next to Vino's. Curiously, the Orc unlocked the door but didn't seem to need his captive to switch into a new cell. This one held perfectly fine despite its rusted bars, after all.

"Um, thanks for the trinket?" Vino asked more than thanked.

The Orc grinned wide, shaking his head. " We found another trespasser like yourself., and you're going to have a little shared attachment."

Vino tilted his head as more heavy footsteps filed in from an approaching distance. New friend?

​

 

[Vivid]

The Bazaar was bustling with people from all walks of life. Heads bobbed around in waves of dark golds and browns as they moved from tent to colorful tent, browsing the wares offered up for coin and trade, the chatter filling the air with so many sounds that no one voice was discernible from the next. Leena couldn’t help but be reminded of the journey across the sea in which she and her mentor had only just arrived from the previous sunset. The marketplace wasn’t far off from the docks, and as such, the salt carried its scent through the breeze wherever the warm aromas of sizzling meat couldn’t dominate one’s nostrils instead.

The sky was losing its childish, chipper blue to the warmer, more sultry tones of the setting sun. The deepest of crimsons poured into pools of bright orange that were like dyes from turmeric and carrots as they soaked into virgin cloth, consuming the light until there was nothing left. Leena didn’t mind those colors, but typically wore the less flashy garments with browns and tans. Her garb was still lovely in its own right— even if it couldn’t compare to the sunset— with elven fabric lining the lower half of her trousers and handcrafted leather belt, complete with golden buckle, where her coin purse hung and rested along her outer thigh. Her top was a typical cowl and hood, dark brown in color to indicate her level of expertise in the world of sorcery. Her mentor, on the other hand, wore a vibrant azure in comparison to hers, a testament to his knowledge in any school or circle where magic was involved.

Leena’s dark brown eyes scanned the scene as she walked. Thoughts of her mentor reminded her to take another glance at a folded piece of parchment she’d tucked away inside of a hidden pocket of her tunic. He had gone out the night before, while she was sick and recovering from the horrid waves and swaying motion of the boat, not that she blamed the man. She would have left, too, had she not been the one stuck there, retching through the late night hours. Her typical, bronze, sun-kissed skin was pale from the loss of fluids. Looking and feeling so drained, she could only hope wherever her mentor was, there was food and drink at the ready. Her slender fingers worked to unfold the creases of the paper, taking note of the effortless loops and swirls of his handwriting.

 

“Find me in the Bazaar when you’re well, you’ll know where I am when you see it.

- Sc. R”​

​

“I’ll know it when I see it—” she repeated quietly as she looked around, then down to the letter again before slipping it back where she’d kept it previously.

His note wasn’t the most helpful message in the world, and Leena didn’t care much for cryptic guessing games while staying in a strange new place. All she wanted to do was continue with her magic lessons and advancements in her own budding career. Still, the woman walked on, glancing to and fro with her wavy, thick black hair kissing the side of her cheek and obscuring the view of her eye in whichever direction she looked. There was nothing so eye catching that led her to believe he was nearby, so she pushed on, moving further into the district.

She was nearing a quieter section of tents that had already been closed for the night, flaps shut and secured with ropes. Leena was ready to give up. But then, there it was, shimmering in all its glory, between two tents in the dimming light, a sure sign that her mentor had been there: a portal. It ripped through reality like an invisible door that opened up with sparks of light spitting and zapping around the outside and a distorted view of the other side with continuous lines rippling outward toward the edges.

Typical that he’d make her travel by boat to get to the new land, but immediately turn around and throw a portal down for them to go elsewhere. Leena pulled her cloak over her head as she stepped through the portal. It was almost as unpleasant as a boat ride, but faster overall. When her boots, hidden by the flare of her trousers, landed in the soft, sinking feeling of wet earth that wasn’t quite mud, she stiffened her frame, looking for her mentor. There was no sign of him ever being there. Looking closer at the dark, slick clay leading up to where she stood, the sorceress noted skid marks of large boots that hurried to lunge into the portal that was hastily thrown down— at least that was Leena’s take on the situation. Realizing her mistake in entering the mystical doorway, she quickly turned to go back to the darkening market, but it was too late. The way back was gone; the portal had closed.

With a heavy sigh, Leena lowered the hood from her head as the young woman accessed her situation. She noted the sky and how the brilliant sunset looked as though it’d never once touched the gray, gloomy atmosphere above her. The flora around her was thick like a forest or jungle— being more of a desert child, she’d never really been able to tell the difference between the two— and she found once more that it was difficult to see more than a few feet in front of her. “Hello?” she cried out, her voice carrying loudly through the vegetation and sky void of vitality.

She didn’t have any scrolls for portals on her, as her mentor didn’t trust her with them after that one time—

“Is anybody there?” she called out once more.

Her teeth slightly chewed on her plump, bottom lip; it was a nervous habit she’d formed early on in life. The debate of looking for help versus staying in place took hold of her thoughts as she pulled the long sleeves of her top closer around her form, covering her otherwise exposed midriff. It was clear she was lost in some unknown land that didn’t immediately connect to the Bazaar she had left. The odds of her mentor finding her were slim to none. Meanwhile, the chances of being found by whatever the mysterious boot tracks before her had fled from grew more likely with each passing moment.

It was only a short while longer before the buzzing of blood-sucking insects whispered their sweet nothings into her ears, causing the woman to crunch her head down toward her shoulders as she swung her hands into the air, batting them away. Moments later, she felt the weight of something land on her chest and she frantically yelped as she brushed her hands against her tunic, frenzied fingers connecting with a smooth, cool and slightly wet object that made her flail more than she’d ever admit to doing. A frog stretched its body out as it spun in fast cartwheels through the air toward large elephant ear leaves.

“Ew- no. No, no. I did not sign up for so much wilderness without proper payments. I’ve got to get out of h—” her words were interrupted by the loud rattling and shaking of what sounded like a large cart or wagon. Relieved to find some form of humanity, Leena moved toward the noise as quickly as she could without slipping or sliding. Her trek was instantly put to a halt as she heard a lone shout of some beastly thing in the distance. Was she not in human territory? Leena watched the sky as three stray birds left their treetops, clearly startled away from the bellow. In an instant, her heart began to drum anxiously inside of her chest. There was no clear exit from the likes of a forest— jungle?— whatever.

The ground shook with thudding steps of a heavy Orc that was all too suddenly in front of her. Had it been there, hiding the whole time? Its flesh was green, though nothing as vibrant as the plants, it was still enough to camouflage him if he was completely still. Standing at least a foot above her in height, the creature looked down at her with fangs jutting out of its lower jaw, one tooth broken away while the other remained intact. Had the sorceress kept any food in her stomach from the day prior, she might have lost it all then from the overall stench that embodied this creature. It was barely dressed, displaying its rolling muscles adorned with jewelry made of bones that clattered together as he shifted.

“You lost girl?” he asked with an all knowing grin. There was a glint in his eye, something menacing that made her forget every magical word and gesture in Leena’s arsenal. She never choked so hard around her mentor, but being all alone had taken a toll on her.

“I assure you I’m not here intentionally. I’ll just be on my way—” she stated as she turned abruptly only to find a heavy hand with fingers the size of sausage links pressing into her shoulder, curling forward into the space above her clavicle. Another set of heavy footsteps strutted over to them around the time the rattling of the large cart had stopped. Why on earth was there a portal into a place crawling with Orcs? Leena felt the heels of her boots dig into the ground as she was pulled backwards.

She struggled, attempting to jerk her shoulder forward and away from the creature, but it was no use. “You’re making a mistake.” she warned. It wasn’t an empty threat, per se, just an undefined one. “Let me go.” she cautioned, her hand was in the air, just at the ready to cast a spell. But then, before she spoke another word, the clinking sound of cold metal— a shackle maybe?— locked around her wrist and she glanced up with those dark chocolate eyes at the display of green symbols that looked like something out of a text book she hadn’t bothered to read. “What?” she began, though she was steadily being dragged back toward their wagon. If she struggled any harder she was bound to snap her own collarbone from the pressure the Orc placed on her, so she calmed her fighting nature, staring at the cuff around her wrist instead.

She was hoisted up, the wagon rocking with the weight of the creature as he stomped down into the wagon that was lined with bars. Didn’t travelers keep food and supplies in the back of wagons? Unless— The bones. Leena looked back up noting the sizes of the skulls and femur bones that the thing wore as a fashion statement. They were roughly the size of her. Perhaps it was best they didn’t know she was able to use magic; maybe that element of surprise would help her escape somehow. There was another Orc standing at the ready, a cell door open and waiting for her. Not even sure if she’d ever been walking on her own, she was suddenly standing still as the beast pulled her into place before straightening his palm and shoving her hard into the cell, causing her body to fly forward then down. Her hands broke her fall as her face was a breath’s length away from the hard floor. Her fingers curled into fists against the ground, and as she pushed herself up, the second Orc slammed the door in her face, the sound pulsing in her ears.

Wincing, Leena gripped the bars of the cell angrily. “Let me go!” she demanded. This Orc, having both of his tusk like teeth, leaned forward and blew a puff of rancid breath into her face. A groan of distaste and nausea left her as she turned away, the night before flooding her memory as she attempted to keep her stomach acid down with a hand over her nose and mouth. The two laughed heartily with one another before they checked the doors of either cell, walking out after. Leena went to chase after them, to the farthest part of the cage, but her wrist tugged her back toward the center as the symbols along the shackle glowed in a bright streak of light along the symbols like a spell being cast. “Don’t tell me they have magic?” she muttered as she looked to her side, trying to find what she was bound to. Her eyes had hardly adjusted and the wagon was dark and cold. But there was another faint glow of symbols that caught her eye.

“Hello?” she asked cautiously.

 

[Novellasaurus]

Vino would be lying if he said he weren't the slightest bit worried about who or what the approaching Orcs would be bringing into the neighboring cell. Given their egregious track record of being fearless in the face of anything that wasn't a dragon, he had no doubt about them bringing in something just as potentially harmful as their breath. It could be an Ogre; a simple youngling found by itself that was easy to chain up. Perhaps a lone Were-being that might not be strong enough for an Orc, but just strong enough to eat a Half-Elf a few feet away from it. Or worse, perhaps it was something that could do worse than kill him. People told Vino he talked too much, but those people hadn't yet acquired the misfortune of meeting a Hobgoblin or a Gremlin; He was sure their only vital organs were their vocal chords. And a Gremlin would sooner rob a Holy man of his Tithes before being a help to anyone, even if it meant their life was on the line. He certainly didn't want to die next to or die to any of those choices, not sit in their company for long. Just as soon as the Orcs were away again, he would restart his task and be free before–

The door swung open and cracked again, but this time it came with an even stronger Orc scent than before. Vino only got see the briefest flash of two other burly figures and a dash of bronze before his eyes watered violently and he shoved the lower half of his face into his vest. "Uck!" One unwashed Orc was enough–Three in the same space was cruel and unusual punishment for a sensitive nose like his own. He stifled a series of coughs as they tossed their new prisoner into the neighboring cell with enough force to make him wince. It was surprising that the voice that reached his ears was feminine, but he wasn't allowed to focus on it for long. To his and his nose's joy, the Orcs were soon leaving the area. The last he saw of their jade forms was them heading up through the heightened entrance they'd sauntered through to begin with. With their disappearance came the lack of substantial noise, apart from the noises of the Orcs seating themselves and getting the entire cart rolling again. This brief pause was a blessing to be sure, but a short lived one; if he didn't want to end up as the main ingredient of a soup, he needed to move fast.

He removed the bone from his back pocket and started the lock picking process all over again. From what he could sense of the mechanical integrity, he was making faster progress towards his freedom than before. Vino's speeding success was just great enough that his ears declined to pay attention to anything his cellmate had to say to him. When that bone was twisted a certain angle just seconds later, that melodious noise reverberated in the air. The Half-Elf grinned with delighted surprise as he raised a hand, gently pressing on the door with two fingers. He never thought he would find immense assuagement by seeing a rusty old door swing open, but he never thought he'd even end up the prisoner of a bunch of filthy orcs either. The day had, admittedly, been long and very unique in the way it panned out. Either way, he was glad that the end of his suffering was finally upon him; he carefully set the bone to the side to avoid the possibility of causing noisy clatter to attract his captors, then walked out of the cell doorway as cautiously as he could manage. He listened and waited over the bustling of the cart, fearing that the Orcs would come back in as some cruel act of irony on the part of the universe. While he didn't hear a sound beyond the doors or the aging wheels, Vino knew that attempting an escape through the top hatch would lead to him starting from scratch all over again when they saw him. There had to be a better way to exit the premises.

A brief scan of the cart's inner space revealed an alternative, but not one he was sure would be the most sanitary of options. Almost at the opposite end of the dungeon was a sizeable chute door with a rusty brass handle near the lower edge, with symbols of the orcish language inscribed in it. He didn't need to understand that it was a exitway for the disposal of corpses or garbage associated with the mobile dungeon itself. It was not sanitary at all and he worried about what ring of slime might be waiting for him on the way through (as well as the speed of the cart meaning the landing on the ground would be rough), but there was less chance of instant capture going down the chute. Vino groaned internally as he glanced back at the other entrance and finally faced the garbage chute door with determined acceptance. Fine, he would work with chute as soon as he got his personal belongings back–he wouldn't step another foor without retrieving any of his personal items. They still hung from the hook rack on the wall opposite to his cell door, virtually unharmed despite how roughly the Orcs had ripped those items from his person. So with his decision made, he stepped towards the hanging rack and…

...was tugged back by the wrist.

He tried again, blinked, and turned around.

Oh.

Right.

Of course he'd forgotten the individual he was tethered to, like an absolute fool. Vino didn't exactly care enough to look then, but he briefly scanned over her now. The Orcs may have been highly barbaric, but they seemed to be remarkable at catching all sorts of unique prey today–especially if this human woman was anything to go off of. She seemed very roughly about as tall as he was, and her height was capped off by flowing hair the color of a raven's feathers. Hazelnut skin was shown in large portions by her rather generous attire, which seemed to proudly direct attention to her soft midriff or her collarbone and up. Thick eyebrows were lifted high above dark, somewhat worried eyes and a clearly unhappy expression. Something about her appearance, whatever it was, seemed to strike him with a sense of Deja Vu. Not because he'd met her before, of that he was certain, but something about her physical stature indicated something familiar to him.

No, now was not the time to let his mind wander; he needed to figure out why he was tethered to this woman despite there being nothing that was actually connecting them.

Unless…

He nearly facepalmed, huffing out a brief laugh at his own silliness. "Of course! A Caligo Catena," He announced aloud, more to himself than the woman. Catenas were notorious for their unusual nature; their name literally meaning 'Ghost Chain'. It was invented by some odd wizard many years ago whose hobby involved Necromancy, upon discovering a method of recreating the same ghostly chains that often contained demons where they were in the Underworld. The nature of the chain itself was truly remarkable: despite it being able to physically tether a person if chained, it was somehow still technically not a part of the physical plane of existence and therefore couldn't be severed by normal blades. Depending on how slowly he moved, the chain likely wouldn't even activate until he reached a max distance away from her…or if he moved away from her too fast, just as he'd done now.

Vino looked at the belongings that hung limply from the hook rack; nothing he owned was capable of breaking a Caligo Catena. Even if there was some sort of tool like that, would he really leave this woman here? He had a suspicion the Orcs planned on eating her alive just as they had planned with him, however--possibly without her agreement. Though he was certain anyone else would leave her to that fate, Vino …well, he was going to need someone to talk to along the way, now wasn't he?


His eyes drifted over to the bone piece that he had, squinting at the cracks forming along the surface. He slowly crept over to his belongings and used his free hand to rummage through one of his alternate pockets until–at last– an actual metal lockpick was retrieved. When he returned to the woman's cell door, he carefully leaned down to the lock of her door and carefully began to press down on the inner mechanisms in her cell's lock with the lockpick. Despite his tool being made specifically for unlocking things, it was taking some effort, considering that her lock was far more rusted than his own. "It's a wonder that they build all their locking mechanisms the exact same way…" Euis remarked, his voice a young noise coated with a cunning tone. At the very least, the stench of this whole prison wagon was made just a little better with her scent in such close proximity. In a way, the vanilla aroma wafting into his nose helped him to focus more on picking at the inner mechanisms and cogs.

"I'm guessing they surprised you too, eh?" He spoke to her. While it wasn't quite so dark for his eyes, he knew the woman probably had a slightly harder time seeing than him and talking would at least let her know what was going on. " I'm surprised they were coordinated enough to make captures like this. Even for Orcs."

 

[Vivid]

Although she’d searched for a response where the glowing shackle led her eyes, the figure, cloaked in the darkness that filled the wagon, ignored her. Squinting, Leena tried to make her eyes focus, as though the action might make them suddenly work more efficiently, but that wasn’t the case. “Fine. Look, I’m not supposed to be here, and I really should be heading back,” she began. But the glowing faded, and soon, the clicking and scraping sounds that came from the next cell over, along with shallow, focused breathing, were the only things she could hear— and even then, the rumbling and clattering of the Orc’s transport wagon was far louder and overpowering to her ears. “Except I have no idea where I am or where back is.” Sighing, Leena turned away from the mystery tennant of the neighboring cell and squatted down with her back to the bars. It occurred to the sorceress that when she was thrown, her clothing had become dampened from whatever refuse she’d been tossed in, and as her nostrils inhaled (finally recovering from the rancid breath that was blown so hard against her face that she could taste the stench from inside her nose), she wasn’t liking what she was smelling any better than before.

With a brief whisper of words, Leena infused her clothing with scents of fresh plants and vanilla beans. It was a simple enough spell she’d learned when she was young, something that came in handy every now and again when finding oneself in a stinky situation. And along with removing the stench, she focused on drying out her attire as well. She wasn’t going to be able to think straight when all she was feeling was the undesirable heaving of her stomach as it threatened to make her sick again.

Thoughts of her mentor filled her mind as she processed where she’d landed and approximated just how far off from the Bazaar she actually was with the sky being the only real clue she’d seen. She was going to get an earful when she got herself out of this one. Not that it was her fault. He shouldn’t have been so cryptic with his note. If she had to suffer on another boat voyage all over again just to get back to him, the crew would do best to prepare for one very grumpy, sick spell-caster on board. She was in no real rush to escape her current prison, either, when she didn’t have a clue about where she was. At best, she could hope that the wagon would be transported to a town where she could gather her bearings, then plan an escape. With some icy hands on the bars, she was betting she could shatter them, or at least the lock. At worst, well, she’d be putting her battle magic to use. The shackle on the other hand, seemed to be more of a problem since there was someone attached to the matching one and she couldn’t remember what the symbols on it meant.

The door to the other cell opened, at least, that’s what it sounded like. Leena’s attention was pulled toward the soft noises as she stood back up, feeling her way across rusted bars that threatened to cut the flesh of her hand with metal shavings. She moved carefully, tugging on the bars to find the wiggle of an indication that she’d found the door. “Hey,” she said again. She was making no effort to be quiet, though she wasn’t shouting either. Unlike the hidden person that’d just escaped, she wasn’t worried in the least about the Orcs coming back. In her opinion it was far too noisy of a ride for them to notice anyway. She also wasn’t wandering around outside of her cell, either, causing her to feel far less concerned about the whole situation. But as the mystery prisoner continued to ignore her, Leena found herself annoyed.

With a jolt at her wrist, the woman’s arm was tugged forward as though she was being pulled in the same direction as the silent stranger. Already being close to the door, she grunted as her face pressed against it. “Hey, watch it.” she hissed. Leena yanked her arm back, holding it with her other hand as though to protect it somehow. She could see the glowing of his own cuff had moved toward the middle of the walkway by then. The stranger finally said words for the first time and they weren’t even to her. He exclaimed to himself and she pondered over the words ”Caligo Catena” as history lessons began to resurface from years ago. Kicking herself for not remembering sooner, Leena quickly realized just what the shackle around her wrist was meant to do. But why on earth did Orcs have Necromancer technology? If Necromancers were using Orcs to capture people for experiments, that was a whole different world of problems she wasn’t equipped to handle. Their magics were raw and dark, and the chances that she could win in a battle against one of them without her mentor wasn’t ideal.

She listened, as that was really all she could do. Leena could have created a little orb of light to see better, but by the time it had crossed her mind, she was far more concerned about not getting caught. She clung to the door as she tried to imagine what the mystery-man was doing, noting that the light on the cuff had faded once more and she wasn’t able to see his location within the wagon. It was only moments later that he was inches away from her. Leena took a surprised step backwards, not expecting his reappearance. From what she could muster, he was working at the door of her cell. She thought to offer some help, but his deft and near silent work was more favorable than shattering metal.

Finally, he was paying attention to her and speaking with her. That was a step up from earlier when she couldn’t break his focus enough to get even a murmur. “‘Surprised’ is one way to put it,” she responded quietly. “You don’t know the half of it, I don’t even know where we are.” she whispered. She could just barely make out his outline from where he crouched at the lock of the door. But, it wasn’t the time to retell the tale of how those brutes had snatched her up. She wondered if the portal itself was another trap laid out by the masters of the operation— especially if there were indeed Necromancers at play.

“Listen, I’m actually worried about that. This all seems a bit too smart; too planned out, like you said. I think that—” a small click and the door shifting open made her pause as she found he’d managed to open her cell with ease. “You’re quite good at that,” she remarked, finding herself impressed as she grew distracted from what she was just saying.

The wagon rolled over a sizable rock that caused the cart to jump, tossing her forward onto the stranger. She yelped as the bars of the cells swung open with creaks that were likely loud enough to grab the attention of their captors. Those weren’t sounds one would hear if the doors were still locked. “Perhaps we should go. Yes, we should go. Do you have a plan?” she asked him hurriedly as she pushed herself away from him, moving much too quickly to note the warmth of his body or the tone of his arms.

 

[Novellasaurus]

He only ever stopped briefly when the voices of orcs wafted by the door to the prison, in which he ceased his tinkering and waited with anxious breath to see if one would suddenly try the door to come in and find themselves unable to. When their light conversation only continued in the midst of whatever topic they had going on, the half-elf let loose a sigh of relief and made the last little finger movements necessary to produce that heavenly clinking sound. Vino smiled proudly as he opened the door to her cell quietly and made a show of gesturing for her to come out. "Ah! Free as a bird. More or less–!"


The woman clumsily fell against him when the door fell unlocked, causing Vino to briefly lose his own footing as well. One of his hands found a generous bit of skin by incidentally pressing against her abdomen. While the creak of the metal door was certainly loud, he still didn't hear much suspicion in the Orc's voice–if anything one of them seemed to be in the middle of a joke. The woman was gone then, and a small yet easily ignorible part of himself whined at suddenly not feeling that soft skin anymore. Vino estimated that they had about another minute or two before the talking brutes eventually tried the door--enough time to properly dress himself and determine what the next plan of action would be, he supposed. Of course that would be going through the disposal chute, but then there was the question of where they would go after their short fall? Beyond the jungle he could just faintly taste outside, that is, considering the likelihood that it would be difficult for both of them to determine which way was which. They'd be free from the orcs, but would also suffer the likelihood of becoming lost. And being lost with some potentially dangerous stranger barely appealed to his interests…


Vino rescued his stripped items as he thought over the next course of action and practically ignored the woman again. Mysterious vials were clipped to the sides of his boots, bizarre bands secured to his wrists and a somewhat hefty leather knapsack found itself clinging tightly to his shoulders. Finally, his signature piece; a thin metal mask the color of aged charcoal and the design of a Blacksmith's welding helmet was snugly tightened on his head. Ah, he felt decent again.


And that meant leaving was now an option. Dangerous lady or not, he'd rather be lost with her than in here, as the previous seconds ticked by. Vino sighed as he tucked past her and over to the large disposal chute opening, where he lifted the wooden door flap and looked back towards her pointedly. "If I'm not mistaken about Orc dungeon cart workings, from what I've read, there'll be a road down past the wheels to break our fall. It'll also ensure that we don't have to run the risk of capture again by going the…longer way around." The man told her. "So, ladies first, then…?”