[Deiter Leafblade]

ooc: Monster post!

Deiter stared at the cracked lines in the stone ceiling. He would often spend his time studying small details to give him a sense of perspective. Hours... months... years... he had no idea how long he had been here. His memories were always fuzzy, and it was hard to concentrate on anything from his past but for more then a few seconds before the spasms would come. He tried to ignore the sharp pain that would explode inside his head whenever the face of a young half-elven woman would appear. Deiter felt connected to her as her blue eyes started to focus. His heart would always clench in his chest when he saw her in his mind.

He couldn't explain who she was, or why the image of this young woman caused emotions to fill his heart. Deiter longed to see her face again but the pain was causing him to thrash against the floor now. Crying out, he tried to clear his mind until the agony in his head became a dull throb. Breathing heavily, he sagged against the wall and stared down at his shaking hands. What was wrong with him? Who was she? Why couldn't he remember anything? He wouldn't have even been alive if it wasn't for Nefris. At the thought of Nefris, Deiter clenched his fists and glared at the locked door across from him.

Nefris had found him battered and barely hanging onto life in a forest Deiter couldn't name. The old man wore robes the color of dried blood, and his golden eyes were always in suspicious slits. He had nursed Deiter back to health and claimed the young ranger owed him his life. Deiter was thankful of the old man, but Nefris forced him into life long servitude as payment. At first he resisted and tried many times to escape, but each time Nefris would bring him back. It was then Deiter realized Nefris was not a feeble old man, but in fact an arch-mage.

The half-elf's features grew grim when he thought of the punishments he received every time he disobeyed him. Unclenching his fists, he stared down at his right arm. He flexed it a little and winced from the strain his thrashing had caused it. Underneath his sleeve was a series of scars running from his wrist to his elbow.

A young messenger of Nefris had returned one day with bad news about a contact of his on the coast. In a fury, the old man hit the boy across the face, knocking him to the ground, and demanded Deiter to kill him. The ranger refused. Chanting out loud, not caring who heard, Nefris took a hold of Deiter's body and forced him to kill the boy. He remembered staring into the terrified brown eyes of the messenger as he ran the child cleanly through with a sword.

Deiter's green eyes grew damp as he slumped to the floor. What had he done... Looking down at the dead body, Nefris simply shook his head and spat at it. Turning to Deiter, he reached down and gripped the ranger's right arm. "Now for your disobedience..." Gripping tightly, he started to smirk as coils of sickly yellow light extended from his fingers and latched onto Deiter's forearm. The coils started to tighten, and the more Deiter struggled to get away the tighter the coils became until his arm was broken.

Leaning his head back against the wall, Deiter wondered if things would ever be the same again. His right arm never healed properly and was now weaker then his left. It didn't bother him often unless under serious strain. He had learned to become left handed to compensate. Grumbling to himself, he stood up and stretched to relieve his cramped muscles. He was about to go back to his ceiling inspection when he heard shouting on the other side of the door. Curious, he quickly crossed the room and pressed his ear up against the old wood. Three distinct voices could be heard. One was the gruff voice of Nefris, and the other two had an odd lisp that Deiter couldn't place.

The argument lasted for several minutes until a loud cry was heard followed by an explosion. The force of the explosion caused part of Deiter's door to burst inward and throw him back across the room. A little bit of the underside of his right ear was nicked off towards the tip from the shards of wood. He tried to push himself up and struggled to remain conscious, but the blow sending him across the room was too much for his weakened state. The last thing he saw before darkness enveloped him was two hunched over figures, their frames covered in ragged black material, dragging the dead body of Nefris out into the night.

Deiter awoke with a start as water was splashed on his face. Groaning, he pushed himself up into a sitting position and looked at the cause of the water. A young boy stood there shaking, but with a defiant look etched on his face.

"Are... are you a bad man sir?" The child's question left Deiter staring at him blankly. "Bad man?" The half-elf was trying to grasp the situation and failing miserably. "This is a haunted place. Evil things are known to happen here... my... my friends and I were daring each other to enter. We heard an explosion last night from back in the village... and we went to go look the next day." Beginning to understand, Deiter looked past the boy and noticed the heads of three small children peeking around the corner of the entrance. "You can come in." The children watched him warily, but slowly inched inside. "You're not a bad man are you sir? The evil things would have taken you too, and yet they left you here injured."

Using the wall as support, Deiter pushed himself up into a standing position. The children moved back, frightened that he may do something harmful. Noticing their reactions, Deiter forced out a smile. "It's ok, I won't hurt any of you." He made his way outside into the warm sunlight. Chani... That's your name isn't it? Memories of her started to flood his mind, as if a great fog had been lifted from his thoughts. Everything they had done together, the tavern that was their own, their friends... Deiter could only stare at the ground in a mixture of pain and regret.

His thoughts were broken by the gentle nudge of a small girl. "Are you ok sir? You looked like how my mother did when my grandpa passed away." Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Deiter faced the small band of children. "Is your village close to here? Some food and sleep would help a great deal." The eldest boy nodded and pointed east. "It's not too far away, but sir, um... how do we explain you to the adults? We'll get in big trouble if they find out we came out here." Worried expressions covered their faces as thoughts of what their parents would do crossed their minds. "I'll think of something." Noticing that their expressions still stayed, he added in "I promise." It seemed to do the trick as relief washed through them. The eldest boy gathered the others together and started down a small trail leading east.

Deiter was about to follow the children to their village when he paused. My scimitar... The old man probably kept it hidden inside. Memories of his blade danced through out his mind, coupled with the fact that Chani owned its twin. Calling out for the children to wait, he rushed back into the ruined building. Buried under the rubble of the floor laid his weapon. Deiter gently picked it up and brushed off the dust and wood splinters with his sleeve. His reflection in the polished metal showed a young man with messy brown hair and tired green eyes. Placing the blade through his belt, he left the ruins of his nightmares behind him, and caught up with children ahead.