A Fall From Grace
#1 of A Fall From Grace
A Fall From Grace
First
The chains jingled. It's what ultimately brought him back to reality. His limbs throbbed dully--the only indication that they were still there. He couldn't move. Where am I? What's going on? Who's doing this?! The three thoughts pounded his conscious. There were others, to be sure, but these three held the most weight at the time. His head was swimming. He had never before been drugged and it had had quite an effect upon him. He couldn't think straight. Sure, he could ask a plethora of questions regarding his current status, but even that was a feat requiring almost all of his concentration. As if by afterthought the albino's clear, slate grey, eyes were opened. The sight before him made the captive catch his breath in his throat. Light filtered into the place due to small, shoebox, windows placed high up in the rough hewn walls of this place. The temperature was cold enough to be uncomfortable, but nothing more dastardly than that. As his eyes roved over the various torture devices in the low light, he found his heart-rate climbing exponentially. It wasn't the dungeon itself that had raised our hero's hackles, oh no, it was the unusually long, unusually vibrant white feathers that dusted the ground liberally. Such an innocuous thing, no? Suddenly, the albino realized that he was in a very bad bind. He tried, in vain, to struggle against the chains that held his paws and feet bound behind his back in a classic hog-tie. But the links were too strong for even his considerable strength. More panic seeped into his mind. He attempted to draw upon the powers that lay within him. Surely a being such as himself could break mere chains! He could not. Whenever he tried to do "magic" (as the mortals usually called it), a searing pain shot up through his spine. He screamed. All that could be heard, of course, was a pathetic whimper due to the ball gag that had been attached to his head sometime during the night. It mattered not. Tyr screamed until his fury had left. His parched throat cried out for drink, and all the yelling merely made things worse. With a bowed head the albino deflated. He was at someone's mercy. The alien feeling left a bad taste in his mouth.
Tyr hardly remembered how long he had been left here. It was more than a bit difficult tracking the minutes and hours as they slipped past, and by his best count he'd been left here, alone and apparently untouched, for six hours since he last awoke. Everything before that time was a blur. Even voices and conversations blended into one meaningless noise. He stopped thinking about it. All the while his eyes found their way over every ominous feather on the ground. Something didn't add up. Many things didn't add up, but the most glaring was that someone had clearly found each of his strenghts and made them otherwise useless. But...noone could know! He had lived a life of near-solitude. Noone could know! With these last few distressing thoughts Tyr let his head rest against the cold, hard, ground and tried to let sleep overtake him. It did.
The next time Tyr awoke it was to the sounds of leather striking flesh. What shocked him into opening his eyes wide was the fact that it was his flesh being beat upon. He did his best to recoil from the blows, but it was to no avail. The hidden captor merely laughed. What was odd is that her laughter held such mirth and merriness it was very difficult to get around the fact that she was laughing because she was beating the hapless albino awake. Tyr's tail thumped against the ground hard, beating a rhythm into the stone wall. It continued when the blows ceased. "Good! You're finally awake!" The mysterious one spoke. Tyr stared. His captor was really something to look at. A lil' mynx standing at approximately five foot four, and curvy in all the right places. She was a wolf (the last person to call her a dog had met their end in a most grizzly fashion). Black as midnight, with vibrant, shining, emerald-green eyes. Her tail waggled happily in the twilight. The wolf was naked as the day she was born (fur did so much better than clothing), and was smacking the end of her riding crop against a paw in a suprisingly startling fashion. Tyr had had little dealings with wolves, and did not know quite what to expect.
A little history about our friend Tyr. He is an albino puma--white as snow. His nose, for one reason or another, was not pink like many would think, but just as white as the rest of him. He was by no means a weak creature, posessing strength many times over what he should have been able to attain. His mental acuity had also been noted by his tribe. For these two facts alone he had been left more or less alone. He liked that. For he was not one of them--simply using them as cover for his true self. One that he did not reveal to anyone. For all intents and purposes he was the crazy old hermet that lived just a bit out of the way of the rest of the village. But it seems as if his secret was out. Tyr had never thought this was how it would end; that he would be introduced to hell in such an ignoble fashion. He hadn't even fought. Well, at least not that he could remember.
Back to the present. Luckily the albino's limbs had long since gone numb, and he could probably hold this position indefinately. He did not want to, but he was rather certain that he could outlast this contemptable wolf. She was gorgeous, yes, but he knew better than to trust appearances. Many that had done so with him had met a quick end. Tyr narrowed his eyes, still staring up at the smug image of the woman above him. He tried to speak. "Mmmph! Mnngh mmm mmmmrgh!" She laughed and let her crop taste albino once again. Her blows held power, and with each Tyr had to roll with it. He couldn't grasp just why he was being made into such a weak, helpless, being when he was far from such. He only had a few moment's time to realize what happened next. The wolf leaned in close, as if to whisper something into his ear, then jabbed a large syringe full of a sickly green fluid into his arm. He gave a start, but knew there was nothing that could be done. She was smiling, and did actually say something to the albino before the syringe was emptied. "Good, you're already learning that resistance really is futile. Keep it in mind, Tyr, and you will go far. Very far." She spoke whilst removing that syringe. Turning on her heels, she walked around the corner to a hidden stairwell leading back up out of this place. Tyr was left with his thoughts, those parting words, and an arm full of a mysterious drug. Whatever it was, he concluded, he would definately not enjoy the results. It didn't take long for the side effects to manifest. One of which caused the albino to simply pass out. It was better this way, for the real effects of the drug were most agonizing. This cycle continued without end for longer than Tyr cared to remember. He was asleep. Dark and deep. Slaps woke him. The wolf stood, then leaned in close to administer the drug. He passed out. The albino had lost count of the time spent in this place. Days? Weeks? Months? He couldn't know. The last coherant thought the albino ever had was this, "I am dying, God. Save your creation. I, who have worked so tirelessly for you, ask that you not forsake me!" He knew it was over. He didn't know what had been said or done under the influence of that damnedable drug, but he knew one thing: this was his end. As if out of nowhere, a final last ditch effort to produce some inkling of the strength Tyr knew he had, those large feathery wings took shape betwixt his shoulderblades. They grey quickly and painlessly until his impressive wingspan (easily twenty feet) stretched on either side of the albino. He was an angel. And he'd been caught by the enemy.