yatsabel
TMF Regular
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Chapter 3
"The Interrogated"
Corina sized up her opponent, her mind racing. Thisdraeda Thistleboon was resistant to enchantments and noticeably strong, with a stout build that spoke of formidable stamina. Corina surmised she was likely resistant to spider venom, as well. The dwarf was headstrong and, as she had already suggested, prone to using violence to solve problems.
The dwarf pounded her fist into her palm, sizing up Corina in return. A look of dismissal crossed her face. "Are you going to make this hard?" Thisdraeda's voice was a low growl. "I'll take hard and put your skinny little self in your place. You can also make it easy. I'll tie you up and lead you to your cell. Not as fun, but I always leave the choice up to the intruder."
Corina thought for a moment, her options dwindling. Surrendering was not an option, but direct physical confrontation was equally foolish. Faced with this dilemma, Corina trusted her speed, the one advantage she had.
She darted past Thisdraeda, a blur of purple robe and motion. The dwarf, despite her apparent strength, was too slow to react. Corina sprinted for the exit, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Thisdraeda simply scoffed, a sound of utter contempt. She reached into a leather bag on her belt and pulled out a bola. She whirled the weighted cords, their three ends humming through the air.
Taking a quick, precise aim, she released the bola. The weapon traveled with surprising speed, wrapping deftly around Corina's ankles. The wood elf was brought down unceremoniously, a definite and sickening thud driving the breath out of her lungs. Corina lay on the cold stone, helpless and caught.
"I'm glad you made this difficult," Thisdraeda said, rushing over before Corina could recover. She unceremoniously bound Corina's arms behind her back, her thick fingers knotting the rope with practiced ease. "They don't usually let me play with the intruders, but when an intruder decides to make a break for it, I'm authorized to subdue them."
"I'm not intruding," Corina insisted, still gasping for air. "I'm just trying to pass through on my way to find Mistress Sydra."
"Tell it to the Inquisitor," the dwarf said, securing the wood elf in a neat hogtie. "You can tell her all you want. She's a good listener, I hear."
Corina struggled, her muscles straining against the tight bonds, but she could not get free.
"This will cool your bottom off," Thisdraeda promised with a low chuckle, her rough, stubby fingers reaching for Corina's sides. Corina squealed and laughed, squirming desperately. The sensation was different from Sarantha's masterful touch, less skilled perhaps, but the reality was that Corina was simply very ticklish, and Thisdraeda was more than capable of driving her to ticklish exhaustion.
And that she did. The dwarf worked her ribs for a while before unbuttoning a couple of buttons on Corina's blouse and pressing her cold hand inside to tickle her soft belly. Thisdraeda chuckled at Corina's predicament, offering no respite.
It didn't take long for the wood elf to be totally spent and exhausted, her magic drained by the torment.
"You are quite the ticklish one," Thisdraeda said, her grin wide and proud. "I'll take you back, and I bet the Inquisitor will reward me grandly."
The dwarf made sure her knots were secure, then heaved the helpless wood elf over her shoulder as though she were a sack of grain. Corina could only see the knotted muscles of her captor's back which were not covered by her overall as she was carried deep through a labyrinth of tunnels and corridors.
Bound and trapped and captured, her journey was indeed cut embarrassingly short.
* * * * * * * * * *
Rika was a kobold tinkerer, a small, reptilian figure in a world of giants. She wore a collar of servitude, a mark that branded her a tolerated "guest" of the Dwarven Community. Her purpose was to fix things, to tinker with the machines the dwarves built with brute force, and to provide the unconventional solutions her unique perspective offered.
She wore a simple black undergarment, over which was a worn leather apron, stained and burned with the evidence of frequent usage. Despite her reptilian features, her eyes were expressive, and her body, with its subtle curves, was surprisingly feminine. Her head was crowned with a mess of dark black quills that resembled hair, and a long, crimson tail, prehensile and dexterous, coiled and uncoiled as she worked, aiding her with a third hand.
In the dungeon, her skills were put to a specific use. She was assigned to assist the Inquisitor, designing and providing upkeep for the interrogation stocks. She took immense pride in her work, crafting custom-built devices that could hold anyone from a pixie or sprite to a full-fledged stone giant, a common necessity in a land that saw such a variety of creatures passing through. Her designs were built to hold powerful beings who would thrash wildly while being interrogated, and they never failed.
Thisdraeda arrived with a new intruder, a bundle of purple robes and matted brown hair, and dumped her unceremoniously on Rika's worktable.
"This," Rika sighed, her voice a reedy whisper, "I've told you a thousand times, don't throw the intruders on my worktable. I could have an acid present or a hot iron or something even more dangerous."
"Sorry, Rika," the gruff dwarf grunted, her wide grin a jarring sight. "I'm a bit excited. I think I got me a first-rate intruder. An apprentice to Mistress Sarantha."
Rika's right eyebrow arched in a rare display of emotion. "I'll be the judge of that," she said, her eyes narrowing as she looked at the crumpled form.
"Gagged?" Rika observed. "Drained? You know the Inquisitor will not approve."
"I gagged her on the way," Thisdraeda explained. "She went on and on about needing to be somewhere else. It was an annoyance."
Rika looked at the drained wood elf with a hint of pity. She knelt beside the form. "I am Rika," she whispered, her voice low and serious. "I am a former intruder like you, now employed as the head tinkerer here in the Dungeons. I have basilisk venom on my claws," she stated, extending a hand to show her sharp, black nails. "I am immune, but I trust you are not. It is deeply paralyzing, and it does not stop you from experiencing any sensations. It is quite humiliating. I trust you will not try to run, cast a spell, or harm me. Can we agree to this?"
Corina, recognizing the cold logic in the kobold's words, nodded, her head resting weakly against the table.
"Very well," Rika said, her hands moving with deft precision as she removed the gag.
"Thank you," Corina managed, her voice hoarse.
"You're welcome," Rika said, taking a sheet of parchment and a quill she inked promptly. "Your name?"
"Corina," the wood elf replied.
Rika wrote the name down with a neat, precise hand.
"Where are you from?"
"Woodhaven."
"Profession?"
"Apprentice."
"To Lady Sarantha, I assume?"
"Yes."
"The purple robes are a dead giveaway," Rika said, her gaze lingering on the shimmering fabric. "Especially of that quality of material." She then held out a hand. "Place your weapons on the table."
Corina reluctantly pulled her dagger out and a small, well-worn case containing her blowgun and darts. Rika examined them carefully.
"An exquisite dagger forged by the high elf forgemaster, Rolandus Kamus Porto," Rika observed, her eyes glinting with professional respect. "This is worth a king's ransom."
Corina frowned, the words made her feel even worse to lose the dagger her sister had given her.
"It's going on the list," Rika said, her voice entirely without malice. "If the Inquisitor decides you may leave, it will all be returned to you." She then studied the blowgun and the darts. "Spider venom," she observed. "Powerful. Expert craftsmanship. Excellent taste."
"Is that all?" Corina asked, eager to have this over with.
"Yes," Rika replied. "Now, hand over your gear."
Corina gave her the pack.
"Mushroom provisions," Rika said, grimacing as she rummaged through the pack. "I'd take dwarven jerky and ale over this any day."
"It's filling and light. Like my Woodhaven provisions. Perfect for travel."
"So you say," Rika said, unconvinced. She then gestured to the robe. Corina, now in the cold dungeon air, removed it.
"Fine, self-cleaning and self-healing, shimmering and vibrant. Cool in summer and warm in winter. An excellent robe. It also goes on the list."
Corina continued to frown.
"Lastly," Rika said, "remove your boots and clothes and put on this gray tunic. Interrogated wear gray."
Corina obeyed, the humiliation of her nakedness slowly sinking in. The tunic was coarse, but surprisingly comfortable.
"Now, we measure," Rika said, pulling out a metal tape measure that clinked and whirred with tiny gears. She meticulously measured Corina from head to toe, the length of her legs and arms, and the diameter of her wrists and ankles. She wrote these numbers down on her parchment. "I want you to be comfortable during the interrogation and maximize restraint without making it painful. I take my work very seriously."
Rika took Corina to a cell and shackled her wrists and ankles to the wall and placed a ball gag over her mouth.
"No casting," Rika said. "I'll have your space up and ready in a few minutes."
Corina sighed. It hadn't been even a few hours and now she was captured again and soon to be tortured.
So much for being prepared.
She'd would have to figure this one out.
* * * * * * * * * *
Corina could hear the interrogation from her holding cell. Through the stone, the sounds were muffled, but the pattern was unmistakable. The low, insistent voice of a questioner was punctuated by a rising tide of laughter, a desperate, breathless sound that was quickly followed by a violent snort and a loud, frantic neighing.
Corina's heart sank. She recognized that laughter instantly. It was a centaur, but not just any centaur. It was Agatha. She had been captured again, this time by the Dwarves. The laughter was a desperate, pained sound, a stark contrast to the persistent, deliberate questioning. The tickling, slow and intentional, was meant to wear her down, chipping away at her will. As headstrong and wild as Agatha was, Corina wondered how long she could resist before she submitted to the Inquisitor’s will.
An hour later, the door to her cell clanked open. Rika entered, a solemn look on her reptilian face. "Your place is ready," she commented, her voice flat. Corina was released from the crude shackles, but the gag remained.
She was led into the Interrogation Chamber. There, a set of elaborate stocks had been constructed to accommodate a centaur's unique form. The cunning design held Agatha's equine and human parts in a perfect, unyielding grip. No matter how hard she struggled, it was apparent that the structure, built by Rika herself, would hold.
Next to Agatha's stocks was a second, less elaborate set, built for a human-like form. It was here that Corina was led. The gag was removed, her tunic taken off, and her ankles placed in the lower stocks and locked comfortably in place. Her arms were then placed in holes above her head, and those stocks were locked as well. As Rika had promised, everything fit perfectly, maximizing restraint without causing pain.
"Good luck," Rika wished her, a hint of genuine concern in her eyes.
Corina, now fully restrained, studied Agatha. The centaur’s wild dark hair, with its intricate braids and feathers, was disheveled, adding to her air of a wild, carefree spirit brought low. Her bare breasts were full and heavy, larger even than those of Sarantha, but her powerful frame seemed weary. Her eyes were tired, and Corina could see a deep resignation in them, a look that spoke of a broken will.
Agatha’s tormentor was the Inquisitor, standing before her like a grim statue. She was tall for a dwarf, but not built like Thisdraeda. She had a stern, no-nonsense look on her face, and her dark hair was braided with metal beads at the ends. She wore an impeccable black uniform, and a headpiece with a magnifying glass that could be moved over her eye or kept just above it, a constant, menacing presence. The Inquisitor did not speak or engage with Corina, she was focused on Agatha, making Corina just a mere spectator for now.
The Inquisitor studied Agatha with immense, surgical intention. A mechanical elevator apparatus, a cunning design of levers and counterweights, allowed her to rise and fall to examine every curve, every tiny muscle twitch, and every micro-reaction on the centaur’s skin. From these observations, she honed her techniques and refined her tactics, making her torture more cruel and precise than any Corina had ever witnessed. It was clear from Agatha’s exhausted frame that she had endured this torment for some time. The centaur's wild laughter had been replaced by a quiet, desperate whimper.
The Inquisitor held a single, long feather and twirled it between her fingers as she moved it from spot to spot. It was not a weapon of brute force, but of agonizing precision. With the feather's tip, she traced the inside of Agatha’s forearm, a spot that would seem innocuous to others. The centaur shuddered, a full-body tremor that caused the stocks to creak. The Inquisitor smiled, a tight, cold expression that never reached her eyes. She moved the feather with painstaking slowness, concentrating on a single nerve cluster, driving Agatha's wild laughter into a desperate, writhing gasp.
Then she moved the tip of the feather to the underarm, and Agatha exploded in hysterical, unreserved laughter. She buckled so violently, that Corina was certain that the centaur would break free.
It was not so and the ingenious stocks held her firmly.
"Answer me, Agatha," the Inquisitor's voice was a low, smooth monotone, devoid of emotion. "Where is your son?"
There was no answer.
Agatha’s only response was another helpless whinny of laughter as the feather moved to the sensitive skin behind her ear. Her head thrashed, her long mane of wild hair thrashing violently, but the stocks held.
"Tell me and we can end this," the Inquisitor bargained. But Agatha would not speak, and the Inquisitor, losing her already thin patience, tickled her relentlessly. "He has a price on his head and we mean to collect it."
The onslaught continued and eventually, Agatha was too tired to go on, her body hanging limply from the elaborate stocks.
"I had hoped to stretch the session out still an hour more," the Inquisitor said, her voice a flat monotone of professional disappointment. "A pity."
She turned her head with a slow, deliberate movement, her cold eyes fixing on Corina. "Who do we have here?" she said, a flicker of interest crossing her impassive face for the first time.
Rika was about to speak, but the Inquisitor cut her off with a sharp gesture.
"Don't tell me," the stern woman said, her voice filled with a chilling confidence. She took Rika's parchment, glanced at the note and handed it back. "I will glean what I can on my own."
Her cold hands took Corina's feet in her hands. She did not tickle her. With a careful, almost delicate motion, she tied Corina's big toes back with a silken cord, preventing them from moving. She then sat on a small stool, studying the soles of Corina's feet. They were thin and narrow, with a high, pronounced arch. The skin was remarkably smooth, with only the faintest lines and wrinkles. She adjusted her magnifying glass, observing the soles intently.
"A wanderer," she said, tracing the lines on Corina's soles with a long, thin finger.
Corina winced, surprised by the accuracy of the statement.
"You have left home for a life of adventure," the Inquisitor continued, her voice low and confident. "Magic courses extremely deep in you. You are a prize in yourself. You had a dominant mistress. I can only guess Sarantha. She has left her mark on you. You seek knowledge and adventure, but you are naive of the ways of the world."
Corina was astonished. The Inquisitor had read her without so much as a single question.
"You've told me everything," the Inquisitor said, a tight smile playing on her lips. "And I did not have to ask you a single question. People assume they can resist interrogation, but it is all written on the soles of your feet."
"Then am I free to leave?" Corina asked, a sliver of desperate hope in her voice.
"No," the Inquisitor answered, the single word a definitive finality. "You've been drained. I do not appreciate that. Tinkerer!"
"Thisdraeda Thistleboon, Mistress," Rika said, correctly anticipating the question.
"Bring her," the Inquisitor demanded, her eyes never leaving Corina.
Rika nodded and left, her small form disappearing out of the interrogation chamber.
"You are going to fuel so many projects," the Inquisitor said, a hint of cruel satisfaction in her voice. She danced her fingers along Corina's soles, and the wood elf could not help but laugh. "The fun we shall have, my little pet," the Inquisitor said, savoring the moment.
Just then, Thisdraeda appeared. The dwarf was flushed and looked nervously around, avoiding the Inquisitor's gaze.
"Who said you could drain the intruder?" the Inquisitor asked, her voice a dangerous monotone.
"She was being unruly. Uncooperative," Thisdraeda stammered, her usual bravado gone.
"I'll be the judge of what needs to be done," the Inquisitor said, stepping closer. "You don't need to tickle one like this. Her magic is precious, and I will recover what little I can take of what remains."
"You mean...?" Thisdraeda stammered, a look of dawning horror on her face.
The Inquisitor nodded. "Tinkerer, put the dwarf in stocks. I hope one day she finally learns to obey her superiors."
Rika nodded and a new set of stocks was pushed out next to Corina. Rika gestured to Thisdraeda, and the dwarf reluctantly removed her boots and stepped into the stocks. Rika secured her and then stepped away.
Thisdraeda's thick wool socks remained on her feet, and the Inquisitor pulled them off slowly, enjoying the building suspense. The dwarf's feet were wide and long with round toes and soles that were flat and vulnerable.
"You have to love dwarven feet," the Inquisitor remarked, a tight smile on her lips. "Wide and flat, they offer the most surface to work on."
The Inquisitor touched Thisdraeda's soles with studied precision. It was obvious that it was not Thisdraeda's first time in the stocks. She was strong, but helpless, and her desperate pleas for mercy caused pity in those who listened.
Finally, she lay drained and weak.
"Corina's magic still persists," the Inquisitor said, a cruel delight in her voice. "What a delight. What a delight. We will do great things together, little Corina. Great, great things!"
A ruckus was suddenly heard down the hall. Loud voices, shouts, and crashes were heard.
"What is that scandalous racket out there?" the Inquisitor asked Rika. "Tell them to be quiet while I am working."
At that moment, the door exploded into a myriad of wooden splinters. A centaur, larger even than Agatha, entered the room. His towering shape filled the chamber up to its ceiling, and his raw, muscular build was a testament to his strength. His face was a striking contrast to his powerful form; his eyes were a warm brown, but they were filled with the cold fury of a centaur on a mission. His long blond hair cascaded over his broad shoulders and chest, a stark contrast to his dark horse body. He wore a pointed magician's hat that was too tall for the chamber, forcing him to tilt his head, and in one hand, he carried a gnarled and magician's staff.
"Pallas!" Agatha exclaimed. "You have found me!"
"Outrageous," the Inquisitor said, her composure finally breaking. "Simply outrageous. We have a space for you, Pallas. A matching set of stocks. There is no escape from here. More dwarven guards will come and you will be overwhelmed."
"You've dared hold my mother captive," Pallas declared. "I will return the favor as only a centaur can."
Pallas galloped towards the Inquisitor. He paused, his muscular hind legs drawing back as his hooves scraped and tore at the mossy ground. The sound was a low, rhythmic growl, a promise of the storm to come. He turned and kicked with all his might, catching the Inquisitor square in the chest and flinging her across the chamber to crash into stocks and other interrogation equipment. The Inquisitor lay on the ground, breathing but only barely.******
Pallas looked at Rika, who raised her arms, posing no threat. He looked at the two prisoners with disdain and rushed to his mother.
"My son," Agatha said as he studied the latches and locks on the stocks. "There is no time. They will come, hundreds of them."
"There are other ways to escape," he said. "I will cast a teleport spell for us, and we will escape. We'll be long gone of this forsaken forest by the time they figure it out."
"Bring the elf," Agatha pleaded, her voice weak.
"I'll have to open the teleport sphere more, and I already need to open it wide just for us," he said, looking down on Corina with a sneer. "She can fend for herself."
"She comes, or I stay, son," she vowed, her eyes filled with a mother's resolve.
Pallas sighed. "I hate it when you do this, mother," he said between gritting teeth. "I need more time."
"I will buy you time," Rika said. "In exchange for your help to leave this place."
Pallas cursed but nodded in agreement. "I need five minutes, lizard woman," he declared.
"Rika the kobold," the kobold corrected. "My name is Rika."
Corina watched as the kobold rolled heavy stocks and equipment in front of the doorway. Guards arrived, but the barricade was enough to buy the centaur wizard enough time to cast his spell.
"If you're coming, little red demon, you must come close to me now," he uttered as he boldly cast the teleportation spell.
Rika leaped back onto Corina's stocks and smiled at her, holding the wood elf's purple robes and pack in her arms along with her own satchel of tools.
The world faded behind them and they vanished from the Interrogation Chamber.
* * * * * * * * * *
The spell transported them from the suffocating darkness of the Interrogation Chamber to the wild, open air of the Mirthwood Forest. They landed with a jarring thud on a bed of soft, mossy earth. The sudden change from cold stone to dappled sunlight was disorienting, and Corina found herself blinking against the morning light.
To her surprise, she and Agatha were still in the elaborate stocks, and even more shockingly, so was Thisdraeda. The dwarf had been caught in the spell's wake, a disgruntled and very much unwanted stowaway.
Pallas struggled to free his mother from the complex stocks. "Who designed this contraption?" he snarled, his voice rumbling with frustration.
"I did," Rika said, scrambling over to Agatha’s stocks with a practiced ease. Her tiny, nimble hands worked the release mechanism, and with a series of soft clicks, Agatha was free. "It’s supposed to be easy to get into, not easy to get out of."
Pallas glared at the small kobold, his massive form tensing. "Give me one reason I shouldn't trample you to death now that we are out of that dank hole?"
"I'll give you one," Rika replied, her voice steady despite the threat. "I bought you the time you needed to cast your spell and bring us here. You'd still be down in that dark dank hole if not for me."
"Stop, Pallas," Agatha said, her voice weary but firm. "Release the wood elf."
"Those robes are of Sarantha," he protested, seeing the purple robes on Corina’s lap. "She’s one of those fantatics."
"She was merciful," Agatha countered, stepping between her son and Corina. "We let her go."
"Fine," he grumbled, though his contempt for the wood elf was clear. "But the dwarf," he said, turning his enraged gaze on Thisdraeda. "Her, I will bash."
Rika had already freed Corina. The wood elf, naked and completely vulnerable, instinctively placed herself between Pallas and Thisdraeda. "You will have to bash me first," Corina said, her voice shaking slightly but holding firm. "I won't allow it."
"You can't stop me," Pallas scoffed, his massive, muscular forelegs pawing the earth and digging small divots with each angry strike.
"Then you will bash us both," Corina said, standing her ground.
Agatha placed a gentle hand on her son's muscular shoulder.
"Let them be," she pleaded.
Pallas stopped and turned away, his anger still fuming but the danger of violence having passed.
Agatha drew near Corina and saluted her.
"Corina, I grant a token of mercy for a token of mercy. Your mistress would never have granted me clemency. The witch Sydra is west as the sun sets. If you make haste, in two days you will be there. We head east. If we ever meet again, may it be as friends."
"Fare well, noble Agatha," Corina said. "I am glad you found your son."
"As am I," she replied. "May you find what your are seeking, wanderer."
With that, the two centaurs galloped off, their powerful hooves pounding the forest floor, a sound that quickly faded into the distance. Corina looked at Rika, then at the still-shackled Thisdraeda.
"Why are you betraying your mistress?" Corina asked the kobold.
"I waited until the right moment to escape," Rika said removing the collar around her neck. "I was as much a prisoner as you. I was kept and fed and given work that I enjoyed, but I was there against my will nonetheless."
"And now?"
"I will travel with you, and we will part ways once we are both safe," Rika said.
The last loose end was the dwarf herself.
"I'd let you go," Corina said to Thisdraeda, "but you will lead your brethren to us and you would capture us again."
"You saved my life from the centaur," Thisdraeda said solemnly, her voice full of a rare humility. "I owe you a blood debt. I cannot harm you, and I am in your service until the debt is repaid."
Corina looked to Rika for confirmation, and the kobold nodded. "It is part of their tradition," she explained. "She will not betray you until the debt is repaid."
"Then free her and let us be on our way," Corina said helping Rika release the dwarf from the stocks.
"We will travel some time," Corina warned. "I cannot promise when you will return home."
"It will be whenever I pay the debt," Thisdraeda said. "Whatever time that takes."
Thisdraeda put her boots on and Corina dressed with her clothes and purple robes.
Corina gathered her gear, looked at her companions and smiled.
"And so we depart.... as friends."
To be continued....
"The Interrogated"
Corina sized up her opponent, her mind racing. Thisdraeda Thistleboon was resistant to enchantments and noticeably strong, with a stout build that spoke of formidable stamina. Corina surmised she was likely resistant to spider venom, as well. The dwarf was headstrong and, as she had already suggested, prone to using violence to solve problems.
The dwarf pounded her fist into her palm, sizing up Corina in return. A look of dismissal crossed her face. "Are you going to make this hard?" Thisdraeda's voice was a low growl. "I'll take hard and put your skinny little self in your place. You can also make it easy. I'll tie you up and lead you to your cell. Not as fun, but I always leave the choice up to the intruder."
Corina thought for a moment, her options dwindling. Surrendering was not an option, but direct physical confrontation was equally foolish. Faced with this dilemma, Corina trusted her speed, the one advantage she had.
She darted past Thisdraeda, a blur of purple robe and motion. The dwarf, despite her apparent strength, was too slow to react. Corina sprinted for the exit, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Thisdraeda simply scoffed, a sound of utter contempt. She reached into a leather bag on her belt and pulled out a bola. She whirled the weighted cords, their three ends humming through the air.
Taking a quick, precise aim, she released the bola. The weapon traveled with surprising speed, wrapping deftly around Corina's ankles. The wood elf was brought down unceremoniously, a definite and sickening thud driving the breath out of her lungs. Corina lay on the cold stone, helpless and caught.
"I'm glad you made this difficult," Thisdraeda said, rushing over before Corina could recover. She unceremoniously bound Corina's arms behind her back, her thick fingers knotting the rope with practiced ease. "They don't usually let me play with the intruders, but when an intruder decides to make a break for it, I'm authorized to subdue them."
"I'm not intruding," Corina insisted, still gasping for air. "I'm just trying to pass through on my way to find Mistress Sydra."
"Tell it to the Inquisitor," the dwarf said, securing the wood elf in a neat hogtie. "You can tell her all you want. She's a good listener, I hear."
Corina struggled, her muscles straining against the tight bonds, but she could not get free.
"This will cool your bottom off," Thisdraeda promised with a low chuckle, her rough, stubby fingers reaching for Corina's sides. Corina squealed and laughed, squirming desperately. The sensation was different from Sarantha's masterful touch, less skilled perhaps, but the reality was that Corina was simply very ticklish, and Thisdraeda was more than capable of driving her to ticklish exhaustion.
And that she did. The dwarf worked her ribs for a while before unbuttoning a couple of buttons on Corina's blouse and pressing her cold hand inside to tickle her soft belly. Thisdraeda chuckled at Corina's predicament, offering no respite.
It didn't take long for the wood elf to be totally spent and exhausted, her magic drained by the torment.
"You are quite the ticklish one," Thisdraeda said, her grin wide and proud. "I'll take you back, and I bet the Inquisitor will reward me grandly."
The dwarf made sure her knots were secure, then heaved the helpless wood elf over her shoulder as though she were a sack of grain. Corina could only see the knotted muscles of her captor's back which were not covered by her overall as she was carried deep through a labyrinth of tunnels and corridors.
Bound and trapped and captured, her journey was indeed cut embarrassingly short.
* * * * * * * * * *
Rika was a kobold tinkerer, a small, reptilian figure in a world of giants. She wore a collar of servitude, a mark that branded her a tolerated "guest" of the Dwarven Community. Her purpose was to fix things, to tinker with the machines the dwarves built with brute force, and to provide the unconventional solutions her unique perspective offered.
She wore a simple black undergarment, over which was a worn leather apron, stained and burned with the evidence of frequent usage. Despite her reptilian features, her eyes were expressive, and her body, with its subtle curves, was surprisingly feminine. Her head was crowned with a mess of dark black quills that resembled hair, and a long, crimson tail, prehensile and dexterous, coiled and uncoiled as she worked, aiding her with a third hand.
In the dungeon, her skills were put to a specific use. She was assigned to assist the Inquisitor, designing and providing upkeep for the interrogation stocks. She took immense pride in her work, crafting custom-built devices that could hold anyone from a pixie or sprite to a full-fledged stone giant, a common necessity in a land that saw such a variety of creatures passing through. Her designs were built to hold powerful beings who would thrash wildly while being interrogated, and they never failed.
Thisdraeda arrived with a new intruder, a bundle of purple robes and matted brown hair, and dumped her unceremoniously on Rika's worktable.
"This," Rika sighed, her voice a reedy whisper, "I've told you a thousand times, don't throw the intruders on my worktable. I could have an acid present or a hot iron or something even more dangerous."
"Sorry, Rika," the gruff dwarf grunted, her wide grin a jarring sight. "I'm a bit excited. I think I got me a first-rate intruder. An apprentice to Mistress Sarantha."
Rika's right eyebrow arched in a rare display of emotion. "I'll be the judge of that," she said, her eyes narrowing as she looked at the crumpled form.
"Gagged?" Rika observed. "Drained? You know the Inquisitor will not approve."
"I gagged her on the way," Thisdraeda explained. "She went on and on about needing to be somewhere else. It was an annoyance."
Rika looked at the drained wood elf with a hint of pity. She knelt beside the form. "I am Rika," she whispered, her voice low and serious. "I am a former intruder like you, now employed as the head tinkerer here in the Dungeons. I have basilisk venom on my claws," she stated, extending a hand to show her sharp, black nails. "I am immune, but I trust you are not. It is deeply paralyzing, and it does not stop you from experiencing any sensations. It is quite humiliating. I trust you will not try to run, cast a spell, or harm me. Can we agree to this?"
Corina, recognizing the cold logic in the kobold's words, nodded, her head resting weakly against the table.
"Very well," Rika said, her hands moving with deft precision as she removed the gag.
"Thank you," Corina managed, her voice hoarse.
"You're welcome," Rika said, taking a sheet of parchment and a quill she inked promptly. "Your name?"
"Corina," the wood elf replied.
Rika wrote the name down with a neat, precise hand.
"Where are you from?"
"Woodhaven."
"Profession?"
"Apprentice."
"To Lady Sarantha, I assume?"
"Yes."
"The purple robes are a dead giveaway," Rika said, her gaze lingering on the shimmering fabric. "Especially of that quality of material." She then held out a hand. "Place your weapons on the table."
Corina reluctantly pulled her dagger out and a small, well-worn case containing her blowgun and darts. Rika examined them carefully.
"An exquisite dagger forged by the high elf forgemaster, Rolandus Kamus Porto," Rika observed, her eyes glinting with professional respect. "This is worth a king's ransom."
Corina frowned, the words made her feel even worse to lose the dagger her sister had given her.
"It's going on the list," Rika said, her voice entirely without malice. "If the Inquisitor decides you may leave, it will all be returned to you." She then studied the blowgun and the darts. "Spider venom," she observed. "Powerful. Expert craftsmanship. Excellent taste."
"Is that all?" Corina asked, eager to have this over with.
"Yes," Rika replied. "Now, hand over your gear."
Corina gave her the pack.
"Mushroom provisions," Rika said, grimacing as she rummaged through the pack. "I'd take dwarven jerky and ale over this any day."
"It's filling and light. Like my Woodhaven provisions. Perfect for travel."
"So you say," Rika said, unconvinced. She then gestured to the robe. Corina, now in the cold dungeon air, removed it.
"Fine, self-cleaning and self-healing, shimmering and vibrant. Cool in summer and warm in winter. An excellent robe. It also goes on the list."
Corina continued to frown.
"Lastly," Rika said, "remove your boots and clothes and put on this gray tunic. Interrogated wear gray."
Corina obeyed, the humiliation of her nakedness slowly sinking in. The tunic was coarse, but surprisingly comfortable.
"Now, we measure," Rika said, pulling out a metal tape measure that clinked and whirred with tiny gears. She meticulously measured Corina from head to toe, the length of her legs and arms, and the diameter of her wrists and ankles. She wrote these numbers down on her parchment. "I want you to be comfortable during the interrogation and maximize restraint without making it painful. I take my work very seriously."
Rika took Corina to a cell and shackled her wrists and ankles to the wall and placed a ball gag over her mouth.
"No casting," Rika said. "I'll have your space up and ready in a few minutes."
Corina sighed. It hadn't been even a few hours and now she was captured again and soon to be tortured.
So much for being prepared.
She'd would have to figure this one out.
* * * * * * * * * *
Corina could hear the interrogation from her holding cell. Through the stone, the sounds were muffled, but the pattern was unmistakable. The low, insistent voice of a questioner was punctuated by a rising tide of laughter, a desperate, breathless sound that was quickly followed by a violent snort and a loud, frantic neighing.
Corina's heart sank. She recognized that laughter instantly. It was a centaur, but not just any centaur. It was Agatha. She had been captured again, this time by the Dwarves. The laughter was a desperate, pained sound, a stark contrast to the persistent, deliberate questioning. The tickling, slow and intentional, was meant to wear her down, chipping away at her will. As headstrong and wild as Agatha was, Corina wondered how long she could resist before she submitted to the Inquisitor’s will.
An hour later, the door to her cell clanked open. Rika entered, a solemn look on her reptilian face. "Your place is ready," she commented, her voice flat. Corina was released from the crude shackles, but the gag remained.
She was led into the Interrogation Chamber. There, a set of elaborate stocks had been constructed to accommodate a centaur's unique form. The cunning design held Agatha's equine and human parts in a perfect, unyielding grip. No matter how hard she struggled, it was apparent that the structure, built by Rika herself, would hold.
Next to Agatha's stocks was a second, less elaborate set, built for a human-like form. It was here that Corina was led. The gag was removed, her tunic taken off, and her ankles placed in the lower stocks and locked comfortably in place. Her arms were then placed in holes above her head, and those stocks were locked as well. As Rika had promised, everything fit perfectly, maximizing restraint without causing pain.
"Good luck," Rika wished her, a hint of genuine concern in her eyes.
Corina, now fully restrained, studied Agatha. The centaur’s wild dark hair, with its intricate braids and feathers, was disheveled, adding to her air of a wild, carefree spirit brought low. Her bare breasts were full and heavy, larger even than those of Sarantha, but her powerful frame seemed weary. Her eyes were tired, and Corina could see a deep resignation in them, a look that spoke of a broken will.
Agatha’s tormentor was the Inquisitor, standing before her like a grim statue. She was tall for a dwarf, but not built like Thisdraeda. She had a stern, no-nonsense look on her face, and her dark hair was braided with metal beads at the ends. She wore an impeccable black uniform, and a headpiece with a magnifying glass that could be moved over her eye or kept just above it, a constant, menacing presence. The Inquisitor did not speak or engage with Corina, she was focused on Agatha, making Corina just a mere spectator for now.
The Inquisitor studied Agatha with immense, surgical intention. A mechanical elevator apparatus, a cunning design of levers and counterweights, allowed her to rise and fall to examine every curve, every tiny muscle twitch, and every micro-reaction on the centaur’s skin. From these observations, she honed her techniques and refined her tactics, making her torture more cruel and precise than any Corina had ever witnessed. It was clear from Agatha’s exhausted frame that she had endured this torment for some time. The centaur's wild laughter had been replaced by a quiet, desperate whimper.
The Inquisitor held a single, long feather and twirled it between her fingers as she moved it from spot to spot. It was not a weapon of brute force, but of agonizing precision. With the feather's tip, she traced the inside of Agatha’s forearm, a spot that would seem innocuous to others. The centaur shuddered, a full-body tremor that caused the stocks to creak. The Inquisitor smiled, a tight, cold expression that never reached her eyes. She moved the feather with painstaking slowness, concentrating on a single nerve cluster, driving Agatha's wild laughter into a desperate, writhing gasp.
Then she moved the tip of the feather to the underarm, and Agatha exploded in hysterical, unreserved laughter. She buckled so violently, that Corina was certain that the centaur would break free.
It was not so and the ingenious stocks held her firmly.
"Answer me, Agatha," the Inquisitor's voice was a low, smooth monotone, devoid of emotion. "Where is your son?"
There was no answer.
Agatha’s only response was another helpless whinny of laughter as the feather moved to the sensitive skin behind her ear. Her head thrashed, her long mane of wild hair thrashing violently, but the stocks held.
"Tell me and we can end this," the Inquisitor bargained. But Agatha would not speak, and the Inquisitor, losing her already thin patience, tickled her relentlessly. "He has a price on his head and we mean to collect it."
The onslaught continued and eventually, Agatha was too tired to go on, her body hanging limply from the elaborate stocks.
"I had hoped to stretch the session out still an hour more," the Inquisitor said, her voice a flat monotone of professional disappointment. "A pity."
She turned her head with a slow, deliberate movement, her cold eyes fixing on Corina. "Who do we have here?" she said, a flicker of interest crossing her impassive face for the first time.
Rika was about to speak, but the Inquisitor cut her off with a sharp gesture.
"Don't tell me," the stern woman said, her voice filled with a chilling confidence. She took Rika's parchment, glanced at the note and handed it back. "I will glean what I can on my own."
Her cold hands took Corina's feet in her hands. She did not tickle her. With a careful, almost delicate motion, she tied Corina's big toes back with a silken cord, preventing them from moving. She then sat on a small stool, studying the soles of Corina's feet. They were thin and narrow, with a high, pronounced arch. The skin was remarkably smooth, with only the faintest lines and wrinkles. She adjusted her magnifying glass, observing the soles intently.
"A wanderer," she said, tracing the lines on Corina's soles with a long, thin finger.
Corina winced, surprised by the accuracy of the statement.
"You have left home for a life of adventure," the Inquisitor continued, her voice low and confident. "Magic courses extremely deep in you. You are a prize in yourself. You had a dominant mistress. I can only guess Sarantha. She has left her mark on you. You seek knowledge and adventure, but you are naive of the ways of the world."
Corina was astonished. The Inquisitor had read her without so much as a single question.
"You've told me everything," the Inquisitor said, a tight smile playing on her lips. "And I did not have to ask you a single question. People assume they can resist interrogation, but it is all written on the soles of your feet."
"Then am I free to leave?" Corina asked, a sliver of desperate hope in her voice.
"No," the Inquisitor answered, the single word a definitive finality. "You've been drained. I do not appreciate that. Tinkerer!"
"Thisdraeda Thistleboon, Mistress," Rika said, correctly anticipating the question.
"Bring her," the Inquisitor demanded, her eyes never leaving Corina.
Rika nodded and left, her small form disappearing out of the interrogation chamber.
"You are going to fuel so many projects," the Inquisitor said, a hint of cruel satisfaction in her voice. She danced her fingers along Corina's soles, and the wood elf could not help but laugh. "The fun we shall have, my little pet," the Inquisitor said, savoring the moment.
Just then, Thisdraeda appeared. The dwarf was flushed and looked nervously around, avoiding the Inquisitor's gaze.
"Who said you could drain the intruder?" the Inquisitor asked, her voice a dangerous monotone.
"She was being unruly. Uncooperative," Thisdraeda stammered, her usual bravado gone.
"I'll be the judge of what needs to be done," the Inquisitor said, stepping closer. "You don't need to tickle one like this. Her magic is precious, and I will recover what little I can take of what remains."
"You mean...?" Thisdraeda stammered, a look of dawning horror on her face.
The Inquisitor nodded. "Tinkerer, put the dwarf in stocks. I hope one day she finally learns to obey her superiors."
Rika nodded and a new set of stocks was pushed out next to Corina. Rika gestured to Thisdraeda, and the dwarf reluctantly removed her boots and stepped into the stocks. Rika secured her and then stepped away.
Thisdraeda's thick wool socks remained on her feet, and the Inquisitor pulled them off slowly, enjoying the building suspense. The dwarf's feet were wide and long with round toes and soles that were flat and vulnerable.
"You have to love dwarven feet," the Inquisitor remarked, a tight smile on her lips. "Wide and flat, they offer the most surface to work on."
The Inquisitor touched Thisdraeda's soles with studied precision. It was obvious that it was not Thisdraeda's first time in the stocks. She was strong, but helpless, and her desperate pleas for mercy caused pity in those who listened.
Finally, she lay drained and weak.
"Corina's magic still persists," the Inquisitor said, a cruel delight in her voice. "What a delight. What a delight. We will do great things together, little Corina. Great, great things!"
A ruckus was suddenly heard down the hall. Loud voices, shouts, and crashes were heard.
"What is that scandalous racket out there?" the Inquisitor asked Rika. "Tell them to be quiet while I am working."
At that moment, the door exploded into a myriad of wooden splinters. A centaur, larger even than Agatha, entered the room. His towering shape filled the chamber up to its ceiling, and his raw, muscular build was a testament to his strength. His face was a striking contrast to his powerful form; his eyes were a warm brown, but they were filled with the cold fury of a centaur on a mission. His long blond hair cascaded over his broad shoulders and chest, a stark contrast to his dark horse body. He wore a pointed magician's hat that was too tall for the chamber, forcing him to tilt his head, and in one hand, he carried a gnarled and magician's staff.
"Pallas!" Agatha exclaimed. "You have found me!"
"Outrageous," the Inquisitor said, her composure finally breaking. "Simply outrageous. We have a space for you, Pallas. A matching set of stocks. There is no escape from here. More dwarven guards will come and you will be overwhelmed."
"You've dared hold my mother captive," Pallas declared. "I will return the favor as only a centaur can."
Pallas galloped towards the Inquisitor. He paused, his muscular hind legs drawing back as his hooves scraped and tore at the mossy ground. The sound was a low, rhythmic growl, a promise of the storm to come. He turned and kicked with all his might, catching the Inquisitor square in the chest and flinging her across the chamber to crash into stocks and other interrogation equipment. The Inquisitor lay on the ground, breathing but only barely.******
Pallas looked at Rika, who raised her arms, posing no threat. He looked at the two prisoners with disdain and rushed to his mother.
"My son," Agatha said as he studied the latches and locks on the stocks. "There is no time. They will come, hundreds of them."
"There are other ways to escape," he said. "I will cast a teleport spell for us, and we will escape. We'll be long gone of this forsaken forest by the time they figure it out."
"Bring the elf," Agatha pleaded, her voice weak.
"I'll have to open the teleport sphere more, and I already need to open it wide just for us," he said, looking down on Corina with a sneer. "She can fend for herself."
"She comes, or I stay, son," she vowed, her eyes filled with a mother's resolve.
Pallas sighed. "I hate it when you do this, mother," he said between gritting teeth. "I need more time."
"I will buy you time," Rika said. "In exchange for your help to leave this place."
Pallas cursed but nodded in agreement. "I need five minutes, lizard woman," he declared.
"Rika the kobold," the kobold corrected. "My name is Rika."
Corina watched as the kobold rolled heavy stocks and equipment in front of the doorway. Guards arrived, but the barricade was enough to buy the centaur wizard enough time to cast his spell.
"If you're coming, little red demon, you must come close to me now," he uttered as he boldly cast the teleportation spell.
Rika leaped back onto Corina's stocks and smiled at her, holding the wood elf's purple robes and pack in her arms along with her own satchel of tools.
The world faded behind them and they vanished from the Interrogation Chamber.
* * * * * * * * * *
The spell transported them from the suffocating darkness of the Interrogation Chamber to the wild, open air of the Mirthwood Forest. They landed with a jarring thud on a bed of soft, mossy earth. The sudden change from cold stone to dappled sunlight was disorienting, and Corina found herself blinking against the morning light.
To her surprise, she and Agatha were still in the elaborate stocks, and even more shockingly, so was Thisdraeda. The dwarf had been caught in the spell's wake, a disgruntled and very much unwanted stowaway.
Pallas struggled to free his mother from the complex stocks. "Who designed this contraption?" he snarled, his voice rumbling with frustration.
"I did," Rika said, scrambling over to Agatha’s stocks with a practiced ease. Her tiny, nimble hands worked the release mechanism, and with a series of soft clicks, Agatha was free. "It’s supposed to be easy to get into, not easy to get out of."
Pallas glared at the small kobold, his massive form tensing. "Give me one reason I shouldn't trample you to death now that we are out of that dank hole?"
"I'll give you one," Rika replied, her voice steady despite the threat. "I bought you the time you needed to cast your spell and bring us here. You'd still be down in that dark dank hole if not for me."
"Stop, Pallas," Agatha said, her voice weary but firm. "Release the wood elf."
"Those robes are of Sarantha," he protested, seeing the purple robes on Corina’s lap. "She’s one of those fantatics."
"She was merciful," Agatha countered, stepping between her son and Corina. "We let her go."
"Fine," he grumbled, though his contempt for the wood elf was clear. "But the dwarf," he said, turning his enraged gaze on Thisdraeda. "Her, I will bash."
Rika had already freed Corina. The wood elf, naked and completely vulnerable, instinctively placed herself between Pallas and Thisdraeda. "You will have to bash me first," Corina said, her voice shaking slightly but holding firm. "I won't allow it."
"You can't stop me," Pallas scoffed, his massive, muscular forelegs pawing the earth and digging small divots with each angry strike.
"Then you will bash us both," Corina said, standing her ground.
Agatha placed a gentle hand on her son's muscular shoulder.
"Let them be," she pleaded.
Pallas stopped and turned away, his anger still fuming but the danger of violence having passed.
Agatha drew near Corina and saluted her.
"Corina, I grant a token of mercy for a token of mercy. Your mistress would never have granted me clemency. The witch Sydra is west as the sun sets. If you make haste, in two days you will be there. We head east. If we ever meet again, may it be as friends."
"Fare well, noble Agatha," Corina said. "I am glad you found your son."
"As am I," she replied. "May you find what your are seeking, wanderer."
With that, the two centaurs galloped off, their powerful hooves pounding the forest floor, a sound that quickly faded into the distance. Corina looked at Rika, then at the still-shackled Thisdraeda.
"Why are you betraying your mistress?" Corina asked the kobold.
"I waited until the right moment to escape," Rika said removing the collar around her neck. "I was as much a prisoner as you. I was kept and fed and given work that I enjoyed, but I was there against my will nonetheless."
"And now?"
"I will travel with you, and we will part ways once we are both safe," Rika said.
The last loose end was the dwarf herself.
"I'd let you go," Corina said to Thisdraeda, "but you will lead your brethren to us and you would capture us again."
"You saved my life from the centaur," Thisdraeda said solemnly, her voice full of a rare humility. "I owe you a blood debt. I cannot harm you, and I am in your service until the debt is repaid."
Corina looked to Rika for confirmation, and the kobold nodded. "It is part of their tradition," she explained. "She will not betray you until the debt is repaid."
"Then free her and let us be on our way," Corina said helping Rika release the dwarf from the stocks.
"We will travel some time," Corina warned. "I cannot promise when you will return home."
"It will be whenever I pay the debt," Thisdraeda said. "Whatever time that takes."
Thisdraeda put her boots on and Corina dressed with her clothes and purple robes.
Corina gathered her gear, looked at her companions and smiled.
"And so we depart.... as friends."
To be continued....
