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Shattered (( Mature content ))

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(( Disclaimer: This story contains graphic descriptions of torture and depiction of rape. If such material offends you, read no further. This is the first time I’ve ever tried to write anything like this, but I feel the graphic nature is essential to convey the horror.

I've been meaning to chronicle this part of Syl’s backstory for some time - and since it is central to the shaping of her character and attitude (and because Willi talked me into it), I finally relented. Hopefully it will give some insight into the source of Syl's rage and anger... ))

Deep within a cell in Blackrock Spire, the young elf hung from the ceiling by her wrists. Her head hung low and her white hair - which had grown long and ragged over the course of her imprisonment - dangled in her face, obscuring her vision. Her once soft and smooth skin was battered, bruised and cut. One eye was nearly swollen shut. She was almost completely naked, with only tattered remnants of clothing hanging at odd locations on her body. Trickles of crimson oozed from every orifice and dripped slowly into a puddle where her toes barely scraped the ground. The straw below her was stained a deep red with months worth of blood - most of it her own.

She had a name, but she neither knew nor cared what it was anymore. In the quiet of the dungeon, the soft spatter of her lifeblood dripping to the ground was like thunder in her ears. Yet she barely noticed it; one became used to such things after a time. She often found herself hoping the orcs would simply kill her, but she knew that would never happen. They had too much fun with her. She was their toy, their plaything.

She felt a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach at the thought. She tried to fight the urge to vomit, but her constitution had become too weak. As the mixture of dissolved food and stomach acid erupted from her lips, it dribbled down her chin onto her chest, down the front of her body. Its sour smell filled her nose and she had to resist the urge to retch again.

The familiar thunder of footsteps echoed outside, causing her stomach to churn again. The door to her cell swung open, revealing the towering figure of a battle-scarred orc staring her down. He stormed over to her.

“Pukin’ on yerself again?” The orc scowled at her. “Learn to keep yerself clean, elf. I don’t like havin’ ta wash ya. C’mere.” The orc reached up to where her wrists were bound by thick rope. He untied the knots roughly, revealing the deep red marks where the skin of her wrists had been rubbed raw. He gripped her right hand tightly, nearly crushing it with his strength as he held her suspended above the ground by one arm.

The elf managed to raise her head to spit upon him, following up by swinging her left arm to slap him weakly across the face. The orc growled menacingly at her.

“That ain’t wise of ya.” He flicked his wrist to hurl her back hard against the wall. Her skull smacked against the cold, hard rock, making her vision go black for a moment. She slid to the ground, collapsing onto her knees as she struggled to retain her consciousness. They always made it worse on her if she passed out.

The orc marched over and gripped her hair roughly with his fist, yanking upward and pulling her to her feet. He then pulled his fist down sharply, curling his wrist under his arm and then flicking it back underhanded to send her sprawling onto her back on the hard ground. She yelped involuntarily as her elbows banged against the rock. Her head rolled to one side and she noticed out of the corner of her eye that two others had entered the room as well. She lifted her head weakly back up and looked back at her tormentor to see the hungry look in his eyes. She tried to resist the urge to vomit again as she realized what was about to happen.

Not that it would be the first time... But that didn’t make it any easier to endure.

The elf watched with disgust as the orc unceremoniously removed his armor. Her stomach heaved, but thankfully there was nothing left within it to expel. His face twisted into a sick grin and her stomach churned as the monster knelt down and begin to lower himself upon her. Her every instinct screamed at her to fight him off, but all she could manage was another weak slap from her left hand.

The orc caught her wrist with his right hand mid-swing.

“Din I tell ya that weren’t wise?” He gripped her wrist tightly in his right fist, squeezing with crushing pressure, and grabbed her palm with his left. He pushed back on her hand while holding her wrist in place, straining the bone and muscle as he pushed it back further and further. The elf closed her eyes from the pain and gritted her teeth, trying not to scream in fear and agony. Red streaks ran across her vision and she could feel the bones in her wrist beginning to snap. She bit her lower lip.

“No... please, no...” The whispered words escaped her lips involuntarily.

“Shoulda thought o’ that before.” The orc shoved her hand back violently while wrenching down on her wrist. There was a sickening wet crunch as the bones broke and a wail of pain erupted from the elf’s mouth. She felt a coppery taste in her mouth and realized that she had bitten into her tongue in agony. As her scream died away she heard the orc’s sickening laughter echoing about the chamber. She wanted to curse him, spit on him, but all she could do was cry in pain.

The orc released her arm and it fell limply to the ground as tears streamed from the elf’s eyes. Through her blurred vision she saw one of the others approaching, drawing a wicked looking hammer from his belt. The second orc knelt quickly beside her, grabbing her limp wrist and pinning her arm to the ground with his left hand while his right reared back with the fearsome hammer readied.

This time, the scream escaped before he even swung.

Fresh tears poured from her eyes like rivers as the hammer crashed down onto her arm just below her wrist, issuing another sickening crunch as the bones of her forearm cracked. The pain was unbearable and she longed for the sweet embrace of unconsciousness or death. She cried and moaned, tears flowing freely as her dignity and defiance was shoved aside by agony.

The orc brought his hammer down again.

And again.

Each time, the wet splintering noise hit her ears like thunder.

A fresh feeling of pain erupted from her lower regions. She didn’t need to look to know that the first orc had gone back to his business. She screamed again loudly as she felt herself being forcefully invaded. Tears, cries and screams poured from the elf as she was drowned in pain and humiliation. All conscious thought evaporated from her mind, leaving only agony.

The second orc’s hammer had worked its way to her elbow now, sending rivers of pain up to her shoulder and spreading out to the rest of her body.

The first orc continued to force his way inside her repeatedly.

She felt something on the side of her head, pushing it to the side and forcing it down hard against the ground.

The heel of the third orc’s boot.

He twisted it.

The hammer worked its way to her upper arm.

The invader inside her became rougher.

A sharp rock... on the ground... cutting into her cheek as her face was pushed down hard against the ground.

I want to die.

Why won’t this end?

The hammer worked its way back down her arm, her cheek bled over the ground, and she was continually violated.

Kill them.

Cut them to pieces.

All of them.



It seemed an eternity before unconsciousness finally claimed her.

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((The ass in me wants to yell out "USe those racial passives!" The rest o fme wonders why you never put anything into picking locks...;>> But well written none the less.))

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