Part LIII: Slaves of the Mind
Date: Yippah 13th, 114 A.U.
Flek awoke to feel a dull biting pain in the back of his head, as if something had burrowed its way into his head and had latched itself there, some alien substance feeding off of his body. Flek put his hand back to peel whatever it was off of his head before he remembered what it was.
The byproduct of Rider’s deal with the orcs that put him and all of his teammates into a permanent subjugation to the orcs.
Not for all of us, Flek.
Flek cringed and looked around at his sleeping companions before glaring, as if glaring back deep inside his head. Yeah, yeah, material harm doesn’t hurt you.
You are not subjugated, Flek.
Flek paused and squinted. What?
Do you think that they can have such power over you when I am with you, Flek? Nay, but their implant is useless for you, except for the scars that now line the back of your head. Their little implant is powerless—it is unable to destroy you. I have rendered it null and useless to you. You do not need to fear it.
And my companions? But Flek already knew the answer.
The voice in his head laughed. Ah, Flek. You know the answer yourself, do you not? I do not help them like I have helped you.
Yeah, yeah, I figured that. But you are supposed to help me. Can you not do anything to aid us?
Ah, Flek, but you know the powers and the limitations of your power. I can help you, yes, but only so much as you can help yourself.
Flek gritted his teeth and watched as Jroldin began to stir. Wishing to get away from the smooth voice in his head as soon as possible, Flek walked over and nudged Jroldin. Jroldin rolled over and stared up at him.
“Wha…” Jroldin began. He then shook his head and sat up, feeling at the back of his head. “They did the operation then.”
“Aye.” Flek nodded. “We are now enslaved to them for the rest of our lives, unless by some miracle we manage to be made free of these cursed contraptions.”
“Bother,” Jroldin said. He stood up and brushed himself off. “I had wanted to be Jaigran’s slave, not the slave of a stinkin’ orc.” Flek laughed; he had heard plenty from Jroldin about how he tried to tick his captors off. Flek cocked his head as he realized that that must mean that there was some kind of security camera in the room.
“Anyways,” Jroldin said. “I suppose that would explain why they gave us our weapons back.” Jroldin walked over to their stack of weapons and pulled out his golden corsha axe. Flek snatched up his corsha arjla swords as Jroldin looked ponderously at his golden axe. He slowly swung it and then pursed his lips.
“I guess we should be moving out of this dungeon as well,” Flek said. “I mean, it’s not like we can really hurt them anymore.” Flek walked over to the door. “I could even cut through the locks now. Flek swung his swords around.
“Probably would be best not to,” Jroldin said. “I think they’d be throwing a temper tantrum up there if we did something that they didn’t tell us to do.”
Flek thought back to the lecturer who had told them all of their dos and donts of Rider’s agreement with Farshore before they had had the implant. “Might not be wisest to try and tick off people who have your life in the palm of your hand,” Flek said softly as he ran his hand around the lock. “They might just decide you’re better dead than alive.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Jroldin said. “They know that my secret powers are so great that they wouldn’t dare killing me and endangering their assassination plan for Mr. Jaigran.”
Flek glanced sideways at Jroldin’s bluff and then turned to their still unconscious companions on the ground. “How soon should we wake them up?”
“In time,” Jroldin said. “Might as well let them sleep now, hopefully in some carefree world where there aren’t any orcs. Say, that would be a good place to be in.”
“We wouldn’t have Number 994…” Flek said.
“He’s already dead,” Jroldin said.
“Oh…” Flek said, suddenly remembering Number 994’s death… and the death of his beloved counselor Reynyagn. Flek pursed his lips and turned on a heel. “The orcs did that to him too.”
“It really is a pity, isn’t it?” Flek turned around to see the speaker. Farshore smugly stood by the door, spinning a ring of keys around his hand. “It really is a pity how much we are in complete control and dominance over you and your companions.”
“Shut up,” Flek muttered as he walked over to the door.
“But of course, but of course,” Farshore said, and he laughed. “Get your companions up now. We have plenty of things to inform you of about our coming mission.”
“So much for happyland without any orcs,” Jroldin said as he turned to go arouse his companions.
But Flek lingered near the door for a moment as he stared at the smug leader. “We will be beginning our mission soon.”
“But of course,” Farshore said. “We can’t have Jaigran leaving before we’re ready, after all.” His eyes narrowed and he swiftly unlocked the cell dor. “On the contrary, we must get ready and get going as soon as possible to ensure a timely death of the accursed Emperor.” Farshore turned to leave. “Now go and wake up your companions. The guards will be waiting to take you to the planning room.”
Flek turned from the leaving Garum to look at the wakening companions. Slaves of the orcs, each and every one of them. But he was a slave of the mind.
Question of the Day:Who is the voice in Flek's head?
Date: Yippah 13th, 114 A.U.
Flek awoke to feel a dull biting pain in the back of his head, as if something had burrowed its way into his head and had latched itself there, some alien substance feeding off of his body. Flek put his hand back to peel whatever it was off of his head before he remembered what it was.
The byproduct of Rider’s deal with the orcs that put him and all of his teammates into a permanent subjugation to the orcs.
Not for all of us, Flek.
Flek cringed and looked around at his sleeping companions before glaring, as if glaring back deep inside his head. Yeah, yeah, material harm doesn’t hurt you.
You are not subjugated, Flek.
Flek paused and squinted. What?
Do you think that they can have such power over you when I am with you, Flek? Nay, but their implant is useless for you, except for the scars that now line the back of your head. Their little implant is powerless—it is unable to destroy you. I have rendered it null and useless to you. You do not need to fear it.
And my companions? But Flek already knew the answer.
The voice in his head laughed. Ah, Flek. You know the answer yourself, do you not? I do not help them like I have helped you.
Yeah, yeah, I figured that. But you are supposed to help me. Can you not do anything to aid us?
Ah, Flek, but you know the powers and the limitations of your power. I can help you, yes, but only so much as you can help yourself.
Flek gritted his teeth and watched as Jroldin began to stir. Wishing to get away from the smooth voice in his head as soon as possible, Flek walked over and nudged Jroldin. Jroldin rolled over and stared up at him.
“Wha…” Jroldin began. He then shook his head and sat up, feeling at the back of his head. “They did the operation then.”
“Aye.” Flek nodded. “We are now enslaved to them for the rest of our lives, unless by some miracle we manage to be made free of these cursed contraptions.”
“Bother,” Jroldin said. He stood up and brushed himself off. “I had wanted to be Jaigran’s slave, not the slave of a stinkin’ orc.” Flek laughed; he had heard plenty from Jroldin about how he tried to tick his captors off. Flek cocked his head as he realized that that must mean that there was some kind of security camera in the room.
“Anyways,” Jroldin said. “I suppose that would explain why they gave us our weapons back.” Jroldin walked over to their stack of weapons and pulled out his golden corsha axe. Flek snatched up his corsha arjla swords as Jroldin looked ponderously at his golden axe. He slowly swung it and then pursed his lips.
“I guess we should be moving out of this dungeon as well,” Flek said. “I mean, it’s not like we can really hurt them anymore.” Flek walked over to the door. “I could even cut through the locks now. Flek swung his swords around.
“Probably would be best not to,” Jroldin said. “I think they’d be throwing a temper tantrum up there if we did something that they didn’t tell us to do.”
Flek thought back to the lecturer who had told them all of their dos and donts of Rider’s agreement with Farshore before they had had the implant. “Might not be wisest to try and tick off people who have your life in the palm of your hand,” Flek said softly as he ran his hand around the lock. “They might just decide you’re better dead than alive.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Jroldin said. “They know that my secret powers are so great that they wouldn’t dare killing me and endangering their assassination plan for Mr. Jaigran.”
Flek glanced sideways at Jroldin’s bluff and then turned to their still unconscious companions on the ground. “How soon should we wake them up?”
“In time,” Jroldin said. “Might as well let them sleep now, hopefully in some carefree world where there aren’t any orcs. Say, that would be a good place to be in.”
“We wouldn’t have Number 994…” Flek said.
“He’s already dead,” Jroldin said.
“Oh…” Flek said, suddenly remembering Number 994’s death… and the death of his beloved counselor Reynyagn. Flek pursed his lips and turned on a heel. “The orcs did that to him too.”
“It really is a pity, isn’t it?” Flek turned around to see the speaker. Farshore smugly stood by the door, spinning a ring of keys around his hand. “It really is a pity how much we are in complete control and dominance over you and your companions.”
“Shut up,” Flek muttered as he walked over to the door.
“But of course, but of course,” Farshore said, and he laughed. “Get your companions up now. We have plenty of things to inform you of about our coming mission.”
“So much for happyland without any orcs,” Jroldin said as he turned to go arouse his companions.
But Flek lingered near the door for a moment as he stared at the smug leader. “We will be beginning our mission soon.”
“But of course,” Farshore said. “We can’t have Jaigran leaving before we’re ready, after all.” His eyes narrowed and he swiftly unlocked the cell dor. “On the contrary, we must get ready and get going as soon as possible to ensure a timely death of the accursed Emperor.” Farshore turned to leave. “Now go and wake up your companions. The guards will be waiting to take you to the planning room.”
Flek turned from the leaving Garum to look at the wakening companions. Slaves of the orcs, each and every one of them. But he was a slave of the mind.
Question of the Day:Who is the voice in Flek's head?
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