through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered
It feels like slow motion as the heavy bolted door swings open. Our old man is still frozen like a toy soldier, tall and upright. His body is filled with the sensations of fear, yet he can’t flee, he can’t do anything…
Soon after what felt like an eternity, the door was open, and there stood a small creature. It stood just about chin height and smelled like the magic that had knocked him out cold before he woke up in this dungeon of abundant food and distant screams. He had no idea what this creature wanted of him, but he could see the creature, Grumbles (of whom our old man has no knowledge of this creature’s name yet), look him over with judging eyes. Taking in his ragged form, picking him apart with his beady eyes. Soon The creature comes forward, and Fascade’s head, with no action of his own, lowered to the creature’s level. It stroked his head and neck, taking more care examining Fascade’s physique. The small impish thing looked him in his scared eye with a devilish smile before slipping a strange contraption over his head. It fastened on snug and had silver rings and buckles to connect the strong pieces of leather. Soon he was able to move again, but he was no longer scared for some reason.
And no matter how hard he tried, he could not be defiant, he could not harm the small impish fae.
He knew something was not right, this strange head collar, not being able to control his own actions or even his body, the creature itself, this place of mysterious food and screams….
Yet he could not fight his way out now that the door is open. As small as it was, Fascade was under a spell that was too strong to break with his sheer will. He just had to follow the small fae as it lead him down the dark, damp corridor.
The screams became louder, but his extreme and unnatural calmness remained….
They soon walked into an open room, very large and smelled like nothing Fascade had ever smelled….burnt flesh, fear, and other scents he could not distinguish. There were torture devices of all shapes and sizes. Filled with horses he did not know, but smelled of fear and different kingdom and herd scents from Beqanna...he was not the only Beqanna horse held here. But they were being tortured to a horrifying extent. This creature…..why was it torturing them so…..what was this…
He looks to the creature now, his hypothetical brows furrowing, speaking in a strong gruff tone, though his placidity remains.
”Creature….who are you? What do you want of me? What is this...”
The fae cackles, its face twisting with devilish delight. Its voice was high and creepy…
”Heh...You see, you could be of use to me, but first I have to see what you are capable of….and who am I? HA. I am not stupid enough to give you my full name….but since you are now mine, you may address me as “Sir Grumbles” HEHEHEHE!!”
He gave Fascade no other answers, he kept snickering as he lead the old stag by screaming horses being tortured beyond belief. He wanted nothing more than to crush this Grumbles and get the hell out of this place, but the magic kept him obedient to him. The term "you are mine now" not only confused Fascade, but angered him greatly, well would have if the relaxation spell wasn't keeping him cooler than a damned cucumber. He belonged to NO ONE. He was the one who claimed others, not the other way around. He was alpha. Who the hell did this guy think he is anyway. Fascade would have pinned his ears and went out to strike at the fae, but of course, that was not about to happen.
Fascade’s real emotions weren't returned to him until he was lead into a strange upright cylindrical capsule. The sides were made of dark blue glass, and reinforced with black metal. Though he was curious of this strange thing, he was more interested in being a pissy old alpha male toward the creature who had laid a claim on him. He pinned his ears in anger and he went to snap at the fae as he turned him to face the door to the capsule, but the halter stopped him from harming him. Grumbles made a tisk tisk sound waving his crooked long finger at Fascade before smirking and shutting the door on him.
Since faeries can’t touch metal, Grumbles had to open and shut the door to the strange capsule with special gloves on, being sure not to touch it to his skin, as he lead Fascade in as not to harm himself in the process.
Still not able to run away or fight back due to the damned magic halter, he stood in the slender capsule. His anger started to ebb as the realization of being contained in such a small stuffy container began to take hold of him. He began to get claustrophobic, his fear began to return with full force. He began neighing wildly in fear, prancing in place, eyes widened. What was this thing, what did it do? Whatever it was, it was not going to be good. Not at all.
Soon, he could see Grumbles push a strange glowing blue button and the capsule turned on. The floor, made of metal with holes throughout, began to to gush water. It rose at a steady pace, and Fascade knew what this meant….he was going to be drowned. Grumbles stood there laughing as he watched the water rise up to our old man’s chin. Fascade raised his head up, his eyes rimmed with white. He tried hard to keep his head above the water, but soon he had to take in a deep gulp of air as it filled up over his head. He was fully submerged now. He tried to hold his breath as long as he possibly could, straining himself. If he had been a human, his face would be turning blue by now. He tried so hard, but he couldn’t hold it anymore. He thrashed wildly in the water, bubbles surrounding him as he twisted and contorted with pain. He let out his big breath of air, the bubbles flowed from his mouth. He instinctively went to draw in a big breath of air quickly, but instead of the lovely H2O he craved, his lungs were instead filled with a massive amount of water. He continually attempted to let it out and gasp for air again, even though he knew it was no use….his desperate breaths were only filled with more water. His lungs full, he struggled. His body felt like it was being crushed. His heart began to pound quickly as his fear escalated. A wild struggle as he thrashed and strained. As he fought wildly for air, his mind was not reeling with images of his past like he thought it would when about to die, instead it was reeling with inner voices shouting at him and the image of Grumbles glaring at him with his dark, malicious eyes and his twisted smile.
YOU ARE DYING!!! YOU ARE DYING!!! DIE DIE DIE DIE!!
He felt his body giving in, but the halter kept him living….
He was being drowned continuously, the pain of no air was excruciating...he couldn’t handle it….he had never felt such pain….such heaviness. Such fear.
But as soon as he was about to pass out, the water began to drain...
He coughed hard, heaving as water gushed out from his mouth and nose. As soon as he spit out the last of the water he gasped.
Air.
He was heaving, his body shaking with fear….he couldn’t move….his eyes were wider than dinner plates. What the hell was this...what was the point of this…
At his age, his mind is weak...he wanted to live his life peacefully, maybe start a small herd and die peacefully surrounded by loving family and children…..This was not that. This was pure hell… The screams surrounded him, the sound of tortured souls and pain beyond comprehension. Blood curdling screams to be exact. His mind was breaking….he wanted to just die now...get it over with. Why make this old man suffer so!?
But, Grumbles was not done yet.
He grabbed Fascade’s halter and dragged him to yet another glass enclosure. Poor Fascade was so exhausted from drowning that his body had a hard time moving, the oxygen to his brain made him unable to function correctly. This time, it was a strange square room, almost like the stall he was in, but instead of four stone walls and a door, this room was dark concrete with the front being a type of glass...He was lead inside, his exhaustion from the last torture was enough to make him not want to fight...he was not scared as much as he was mad and senile…
Grumbles’ spoke with a nonchalant tone.
Hm, the water didn’t seem to do anything did it my fine elderly friend? Maybe something a little more on the warm side will get you nice and fired up. I’m sure this will dry you off in a jiffy. We sure as hell aren’t done yet...
Fascade’s anger bubbled up in his chest, what the hell was this anyway!?
”WHAT?! What are you going to do to me now “SIR Grumbles”?! What hell are you going to put me through huh? WHY NOT JUST KILL ME NOW YOU DEMENTED PIECE OF SHIT?! WHY NOT JUST PUT ME OUT OF MY DAMN MISERY!? Why the hell are you so nonchalant about this!? WHY DO THIS!? WHY!? WHAT KIND OF SICK GAME ARE YOU PLAYING WITH US!?
Physical torture was not the only thing Fascade was enduring, but the mental aspect of this was torture as well...He was getting old, his mind was not as strong as a younger stallion’s and he was not some spry young stallion with a mind of steel….not anymore….he was breaking mentally as well as being ripped apart physically.
Grumbles made a face at him as Fascade made a false charge at him before the door slid shut on him. He squealed fiercely at the faerie on the other side of the thick glass. He was an enraged old geezer. He thrust himself at the glass, but he was not going to hit the creature now. Frustrated, he turned to face the opposite wall...of which looked a bit strange. It was not solid concrete. There were small metal pipes sticking out all over the walls around him except for the glass, which was pretty much just a viewing window for Grumbles. A deep crackling sound made Fascade’s dark tipped ears swivel back and forth, this was a sound he knew…..the sound of……Fire.
The pipes gleamed red and the crackling grew louder as flames suddenly burst forth from them. The entire room was being blasted. He was a small clay pot in a giant kiln. He screamed at the top of his pained, previously drowned lungs. The fire all around engulfed him, he could feel his body being seared and melting, he could smell his own flesh burning, he ran frantically, though of course that damned magical head collar kept his skin from being burned all the way off and kept him very much alive. The pain was unreal, the fear was unreal. This was too much for him, he could feel his skin practically melting off, his eyes burning out, his ears charring, his legs bloodied and raw. Continuously repeating itself thanks to the halter. He could not stand the pain anymore, he was literally being burned alive, body and mind alike.
It was too much...no...it was too much beyond describable. He was breaking.
He screamed at the top of his lungs, his entire soul blasted forth from deep inside him. Loud enough to probably shatter the glass separating him and Grumbles….
This was it...this was his breaking point….he was too old for this.
”PLEASE!! PLEASE STOP!!!!!!! MAKE IT STOP!!!!!!!! USE I NEED USE!!!!!! USE!!!!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I CAN’T!!!! I CAN’T!!!!!!
There it was, his cry for Use. Of whom has been dead for years….his lover, his beloved leadmare. All he wanted was her, he wanted to be with her...he wanted to die. He was too old for this...it was too much for him to handle.
This was too much.
After all these years holding in his pain of her passing, all these years wandering without a purpose, this was how he thought it was going to end for him. This was his breaking point.