I am humbled by the reviews which are far more positive than I expected or
deserve. Thank you so much.
The Llyob are an unknown humanoid faction that appeared unexpectedly on Spire and who have the power to herd and direct the fiends against the forces of good. They're part of the AU as are most of the Maesters (not called that in my book). I am excerpting, leaving out the passages that are totally non-canonical, and trying my utmost to force what I post here to conform, at least roughly, to the rules of the S-E story.
Interlude with Sadism
In the night the hospital became a silent, subtly hostile place with mysterious shadows and alien scents. The few who stirred in the darkened halls moved as quietly as spirits on their secret errands, checking a read- out here, soothing a disturbed patient there. In the particular stillness that came after mid-night, even the occasional passage along the corridors seemed to slow and finally cease altogether.
The room in which Nooj lay reaffirming his resolution was as quiet as any other and dark save for the faint glow of a light low on the wall near the door which barely served to define the shapes of the furnishings and did nothing to reveal anything happening inside. He had slept much of the preceding day after the drama of his return to the ranks of the living. Now he was alert and sufficiently troubled by his situation to actively move against what had been done to him. He had made his own decision about his fate after hours of intermittent weighing of his choices. It had taken him a while to discover if he could trust his own mind again but now he was certain. There could be no compromise with the machina limbs that had been so arrogantly grafted onto his body after the encounter with Sin which had cost him his left arm and leg. Nothing could be done about the heart and lung that kept him alive; they were buried too deeply inside to be susceptible to his attack but the limbs. ...
He carefully reached with his right hand, his only usable one, for the control that adjusted his bed and raised the head area as far as it would go. Earlier, nurses had done the same thing and had shifted him so that he could sit for a time on the edge of the bed to begin regaining his strength. Now, with no help, he struggled to swing the heavy metal leg over so that he could achieve the upright position he wanted. With a silent but savage curse, he manually bent the knee until the leg hung parallel with his good one then leaned against the elevated mattress to rest for a moment while he considered the best way to go about his task.
He needed a tool and the only one accessible to him was part of the machina arm – the hand. It was a thing of rods and connecting cables, not flimsy but also not as strong as he would have liked. However, there was no choice so the hand would have to do but not while connected to the arm. Nooj seized the metal hand with his real one and began bending it back and forth. After what seemed like hours, the appendage snapped free with a slight screech of ceramic guides against metal cables. He waited to be sure no one had heard and, cursing his impaired eyesight, began to force the rods under the sheath clasping his thigh, holding the machina leg to what remained of his own left femur. The first time he tried to lever the sheath from his flesh, several of the hand's phalanges snapped off and fell to the floor with a gentle patter that sounded like a kettle drum to his heightened senses. Nooj paused to listen and assure himself that no one had heard this either and to raise the pain blockers in his brain in preparation for what was to come, then turned back to his undertaking. The rods which made up the palm of the hand were stronger and longer than those that had formed the fingers and he was able to insert them further beneath the attachment plate and push upward with more power. After resisting for long moments, the connecting rods from the sheath to the bone suddenly gave way, three of them on the upper surface tearing free and one of them nicking the femoral artery as it ripped through the muscle of the thigh. Simultaneously, an avalanche of agony buried his mental barriers and a gusher of blood struck him in the eyes. The unexpected double onslaught caught him off guard and his involuntary flinching from both disturbed the delicate balance of his posture on the bed's edge. With a ringing crash, he fell to the floor, the broken end of the machina arm slicing deeply into his side. He lay there only long enough to be sure that he could still move and then abandoned rational thought for the animal instinct to find a private place to die. He knew with the certainty of any injured mammal that he would swiftly bleed to death and welcomed it, his only concern that he not be disturbed until it was over, so he began to drag himself away from the bed and toward the window with its concealing curtains.
The nurse who heard the crash from Nooj's room was not prepared for what she saw when she turned on the light. The bed, soaked in blood, was empty and a large pool of scarlet on the tile was smeared into a trail that led to the wall where she did not at once recognize the incredible figure of the man lying propped on his right elbow, head drooping, hair clotted and matted with the blood now oozing from his thigh. She thought at first he was dead until she saw the small, convulsive movement of his hand.
The senior Healer who answered her panicked call automatically cast the stasis spell to stop the bleeding and prevent further damage. When he realized the identity of the person lying crumpled and near death, he immediately summoned additional assistance and began the covering story that would become the official word on the event.
"He must have tried to get up by himself and fallen. Just what one might expect from a brave and determined man like this. Of course, it was a mistake not to have the rails up on his bed until he learned to use his new limbs but - well, mistakes will happen. It would just have been better if this mistake had not happened to this man. Better get him into surgery at once and, oh, call Gaing; this is his special project."
Nooj was unaware of anything that happened after he had managed to make his way to the wall; he did not feel them lift him to the wheeled cot or transfer him to the table. He did not see the irritated face of Gaing or hear the angry voices of the Al Bhed artifactors when they saw what had been done to their carefully crafted prostheses. He was oblivious to the replacement blood dripping slowly into his arm and the spells that were cast to prepare him for the coming surgery.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"...alarmed. You're out of surgery and everything is all right. You have been held in a paralysis spell while the doctors worked but it should be wearing off soon. Don't be alarmed. You're out ..."
Nooj had no idea how many times the strangely neutral voice had repeated that formula before its meaning finally penetrated his wakening mind. He tried to nod or make some other indication that he heard and understood only to find that he could move nothing, not even his eyelids. A reflexive flicker of terror ran through him, followed almost immediately by the recognition that this was what the voice was talking about; he was still within the parameters of the surgical spell.
Apparently the owner of the voice realized that he/she had been understood for the message changed. "We were able to reattach the limbs – you will be glad to know – and all will be as it was before your unfortunate fall."
Hearing that, he recoiled inwardly. So that was how they meant to play it? It had been no accident ... He was swept with a jarring flash of pain as a heavy hand struck against the stump of his left thigh and the voice continued.
"Yes, indeed, you're all repaired. Does this make you want to scream? Too bad. Oh, you're crying."
Nooj fought the sudden furious moisture that sprang into his eyes as the brutal hand moved to his left side and pressed harshly against the incisions there, generating another wave of agony, then back to the thigh for a second slap. He reached desperately into his own mind so that he could set the barriers higher against the onslaught he was experiencing. To his dismay, he was unable to enter the area, blocked by a spell that had been placed there while he was still unconscious. As the paroxysms continued to roil his undefended senses, he was barely aware of the words mocking him.
"Now you are beginning to understand that your actions have consequences and perhaps learn not to indulge in such actions here." Again the unrelenting hand struck him and more helpless frustration threatened what control he still maintained. "Don't think it will get better when the paralysis wears off. You're strapped to this bed and won't be able to move anyway. Feel." Nooj felt straps pulled tightly against his shoulders, his waist, his knee and his ankle. "And that busy right hand of yours is tied to the bed with its own special little tie. So it won't be causing so much trouble for a while. ... I'll leave you now to reflect on your errors and resolve to improve your attitude. Rest well."
Nooj could sense that he was alone. As he felt the moisture continuing to trickle down his face, he cursed his inability to wipe it away and feared that someone might see and think he wept from weakness or worse. He could tolerate pain, even pain he couldn't control, but he could not deal with pity. He was Nooj, after all, and pity was not appropriate for one of his kind. So much of who he was had been predicated upon what he was – a Warrior celebrated for his courage – and such a man would not be found tied helpless to a bed, weeping like a child.
Frenzied, he searched his mental resources for some way to stop the pain and the despised tears. If he could not set barriers to protect his consciousness, he would have to try to move his consciousness from the source of the problem. With a massive effort, he concentrated on the quieting of his mind, sending his sensory awareness deep into the oceanic depths of his sub-conscious and lapsing into a state of hypnotic stillness.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
When he permitted himself to wake again, it was to see the face of LeBlanc before his eyes.
"LeBlanc, what are you doing here? Who sent you?"
"I told you I would be back to see you today."
He tested his powers, confirming that the paralysis was gone but finding he was still barred from much of his own mind by the second spell. When he tried to move, he realized that the voice had been no mere fever dream but had told the precise truth about the constraints holding him immobile.
"Has it been only a day? Seems like so many more. Why am I confined like this?"
"I don't know. I slipped in just now and haven't seen anyone to ask. Do you have any idea what must have happened since I left last night?"
He gritted his teeth, "Yes, I know everything that happened. Can you at least free my hand?"
"Of course, I can and will. And I'm going to take off these other straps too. It's ridiculous to treat you like a child or a half-wit." With a deft movement, she twitched back the sheet and unfastened the leather restraint holding his right wrist before turning her attention to the four wide bands crossing his body. When they were gone, Nooj breathed a deep sigh of relief and shifted on the bed, being careful not to move his left side lest he fan into flame the smoldering coals in the injured areas.
"Thank you, I was getting badly cramped lying in one position so long. I owe you, lady."
She smiled her little cat smile and stroked his brow. "I'll collect one day.... Now, will you tell me what's going on? I leave you somewhat depressed but rational and come back the next day and find you all freshly bandaged and strapped to the bed like a violent lunatic; something really dramatic must have happened."
"No, I can't give you a coherent story. It's still too confusing even to me." He dissembled because he had no intention of letting her know that he had intentionally attempted to rid himself of the machina or – still less - that he had been deliberately tormented by an as yet unknown presence earlier in the day. Nooj was not a forgiving man and held both his enemies and himself strictly to account for their action and, perhaps even more strongly, for their inactions. He would take his revenge himself.
"Well, whatever took place, it's all over and now we need to concentrate on getting you up walking and out of here." LeBlanc raised the head of the bed and leaned over to kiss his lips. He responded in spite of himself, twisting his fingers in the short loose curls that haloed her head.
"Why has this patient been released?" They were startled by the indignant voice of the man who appeared in the door. "It's against orders to take those straps off until we're sure he's in his right mind and won't hurt himself." The man, chief nurse of the floor, flourished the syringe-gun he held in his hand.
Pushing LeBlanc away, Nooj snarled, "Why? And what poison are you threatening to inject me with now?"
"Because it's orders from the top, that's why - you know what you did and why those orders were put in place. ... This is your pain medication..."
"I don't want it. Just let this damned spell wear off and I'll handle any pain myself. Leave me alone, damn you."
"Can't do that," the man pressed the nozzle of the spray-syringe against the skin where Nooj's neck joined his right shoulder and pulled the trigger.
Nooj tried to jerk away but his reflexes, slowed by the trauma of the past seven weeks, failed to respond in time. The medication rapidly infiltrated his blood stream, bringing its wake a deadening of sensation together with the sudden weakening of his muscles. He struggled ineffectively against the fog that rose in his mind and the gradual dimming of his vision.
"LeBlanc, tell Mounfar," he gasped as he felt his strength and will draining away. He was unable to resist as his right wrist was pulled back against the bed-frame and tightly strapped there.
She spun around brushing aside the hospital personnel who would have impeded her and, without another word, left for the office of the Obermaester.
The Llyob are an unknown humanoid faction that appeared unexpectedly on Spire and who have the power to herd and direct the fiends against the forces of good. They're part of the AU as are most of the Maesters (not called that in my book). I am excerpting, leaving out the passages that are totally non-canonical, and trying my utmost to force what I post here to conform, at least roughly, to the rules of the S-E story.
Interlude with Sadism
In the night the hospital became a silent, subtly hostile place with mysterious shadows and alien scents. The few who stirred in the darkened halls moved as quietly as spirits on their secret errands, checking a read- out here, soothing a disturbed patient there. In the particular stillness that came after mid-night, even the occasional passage along the corridors seemed to slow and finally cease altogether.
The room in which Nooj lay reaffirming his resolution was as quiet as any other and dark save for the faint glow of a light low on the wall near the door which barely served to define the shapes of the furnishings and did nothing to reveal anything happening inside. He had slept much of the preceding day after the drama of his return to the ranks of the living. Now he was alert and sufficiently troubled by his situation to actively move against what had been done to him. He had made his own decision about his fate after hours of intermittent weighing of his choices. It had taken him a while to discover if he could trust his own mind again but now he was certain. There could be no compromise with the machina limbs that had been so arrogantly grafted onto his body after the encounter with Sin which had cost him his left arm and leg. Nothing could be done about the heart and lung that kept him alive; they were buried too deeply inside to be susceptible to his attack but the limbs. ...
He carefully reached with his right hand, his only usable one, for the control that adjusted his bed and raised the head area as far as it would go. Earlier, nurses had done the same thing and had shifted him so that he could sit for a time on the edge of the bed to begin regaining his strength. Now, with no help, he struggled to swing the heavy metal leg over so that he could achieve the upright position he wanted. With a silent but savage curse, he manually bent the knee until the leg hung parallel with his good one then leaned against the elevated mattress to rest for a moment while he considered the best way to go about his task.
He needed a tool and the only one accessible to him was part of the machina arm – the hand. It was a thing of rods and connecting cables, not flimsy but also not as strong as he would have liked. However, there was no choice so the hand would have to do but not while connected to the arm. Nooj seized the metal hand with his real one and began bending it back and forth. After what seemed like hours, the appendage snapped free with a slight screech of ceramic guides against metal cables. He waited to be sure no one had heard and, cursing his impaired eyesight, began to force the rods under the sheath clasping his thigh, holding the machina leg to what remained of his own left femur. The first time he tried to lever the sheath from his flesh, several of the hand's phalanges snapped off and fell to the floor with a gentle patter that sounded like a kettle drum to his heightened senses. Nooj paused to listen and assure himself that no one had heard this either and to raise the pain blockers in his brain in preparation for what was to come, then turned back to his undertaking. The rods which made up the palm of the hand were stronger and longer than those that had formed the fingers and he was able to insert them further beneath the attachment plate and push upward with more power. After resisting for long moments, the connecting rods from the sheath to the bone suddenly gave way, three of them on the upper surface tearing free and one of them nicking the femoral artery as it ripped through the muscle of the thigh. Simultaneously, an avalanche of agony buried his mental barriers and a gusher of blood struck him in the eyes. The unexpected double onslaught caught him off guard and his involuntary flinching from both disturbed the delicate balance of his posture on the bed's edge. With a ringing crash, he fell to the floor, the broken end of the machina arm slicing deeply into his side. He lay there only long enough to be sure that he could still move and then abandoned rational thought for the animal instinct to find a private place to die. He knew with the certainty of any injured mammal that he would swiftly bleed to death and welcomed it, his only concern that he not be disturbed until it was over, so he began to drag himself away from the bed and toward the window with its concealing curtains.
The nurse who heard the crash from Nooj's room was not prepared for what she saw when she turned on the light. The bed, soaked in blood, was empty and a large pool of scarlet on the tile was smeared into a trail that led to the wall where she did not at once recognize the incredible figure of the man lying propped on his right elbow, head drooping, hair clotted and matted with the blood now oozing from his thigh. She thought at first he was dead until she saw the small, convulsive movement of his hand.
The senior Healer who answered her panicked call automatically cast the stasis spell to stop the bleeding and prevent further damage. When he realized the identity of the person lying crumpled and near death, he immediately summoned additional assistance and began the covering story that would become the official word on the event.
"He must have tried to get up by himself and fallen. Just what one might expect from a brave and determined man like this. Of course, it was a mistake not to have the rails up on his bed until he learned to use his new limbs but - well, mistakes will happen. It would just have been better if this mistake had not happened to this man. Better get him into surgery at once and, oh, call Gaing; this is his special project."
Nooj was unaware of anything that happened after he had managed to make his way to the wall; he did not feel them lift him to the wheeled cot or transfer him to the table. He did not see the irritated face of Gaing or hear the angry voices of the Al Bhed artifactors when they saw what had been done to their carefully crafted prostheses. He was oblivious to the replacement blood dripping slowly into his arm and the spells that were cast to prepare him for the coming surgery.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"...alarmed. You're out of surgery and everything is all right. You have been held in a paralysis spell while the doctors worked but it should be wearing off soon. Don't be alarmed. You're out ..."
Nooj had no idea how many times the strangely neutral voice had repeated that formula before its meaning finally penetrated his wakening mind. He tried to nod or make some other indication that he heard and understood only to find that he could move nothing, not even his eyelids. A reflexive flicker of terror ran through him, followed almost immediately by the recognition that this was what the voice was talking about; he was still within the parameters of the surgical spell.
Apparently the owner of the voice realized that he/she had been understood for the message changed. "We were able to reattach the limbs – you will be glad to know – and all will be as it was before your unfortunate fall."
Hearing that, he recoiled inwardly. So that was how they meant to play it? It had been no accident ... He was swept with a jarring flash of pain as a heavy hand struck against the stump of his left thigh and the voice continued.
"Yes, indeed, you're all repaired. Does this make you want to scream? Too bad. Oh, you're crying."
Nooj fought the sudden furious moisture that sprang into his eyes as the brutal hand moved to his left side and pressed harshly against the incisions there, generating another wave of agony, then back to the thigh for a second slap. He reached desperately into his own mind so that he could set the barriers higher against the onslaught he was experiencing. To his dismay, he was unable to enter the area, blocked by a spell that had been placed there while he was still unconscious. As the paroxysms continued to roil his undefended senses, he was barely aware of the words mocking him.
"Now you are beginning to understand that your actions have consequences and perhaps learn not to indulge in such actions here." Again the unrelenting hand struck him and more helpless frustration threatened what control he still maintained. "Don't think it will get better when the paralysis wears off. You're strapped to this bed and won't be able to move anyway. Feel." Nooj felt straps pulled tightly against his shoulders, his waist, his knee and his ankle. "And that busy right hand of yours is tied to the bed with its own special little tie. So it won't be causing so much trouble for a while. ... I'll leave you now to reflect on your errors and resolve to improve your attitude. Rest well."
Nooj could sense that he was alone. As he felt the moisture continuing to trickle down his face, he cursed his inability to wipe it away and feared that someone might see and think he wept from weakness or worse. He could tolerate pain, even pain he couldn't control, but he could not deal with pity. He was Nooj, after all, and pity was not appropriate for one of his kind. So much of who he was had been predicated upon what he was – a Warrior celebrated for his courage – and such a man would not be found tied helpless to a bed, weeping like a child.
Frenzied, he searched his mental resources for some way to stop the pain and the despised tears. If he could not set barriers to protect his consciousness, he would have to try to move his consciousness from the source of the problem. With a massive effort, he concentrated on the quieting of his mind, sending his sensory awareness deep into the oceanic depths of his sub-conscious and lapsing into a state of hypnotic stillness.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
When he permitted himself to wake again, it was to see the face of LeBlanc before his eyes.
"LeBlanc, what are you doing here? Who sent you?"
"I told you I would be back to see you today."
He tested his powers, confirming that the paralysis was gone but finding he was still barred from much of his own mind by the second spell. When he tried to move, he realized that the voice had been no mere fever dream but had told the precise truth about the constraints holding him immobile.
"Has it been only a day? Seems like so many more. Why am I confined like this?"
"I don't know. I slipped in just now and haven't seen anyone to ask. Do you have any idea what must have happened since I left last night?"
He gritted his teeth, "Yes, I know everything that happened. Can you at least free my hand?"
"Of course, I can and will. And I'm going to take off these other straps too. It's ridiculous to treat you like a child or a half-wit." With a deft movement, she twitched back the sheet and unfastened the leather restraint holding his right wrist before turning her attention to the four wide bands crossing his body. When they were gone, Nooj breathed a deep sigh of relief and shifted on the bed, being careful not to move his left side lest he fan into flame the smoldering coals in the injured areas.
"Thank you, I was getting badly cramped lying in one position so long. I owe you, lady."
She smiled her little cat smile and stroked his brow. "I'll collect one day.... Now, will you tell me what's going on? I leave you somewhat depressed but rational and come back the next day and find you all freshly bandaged and strapped to the bed like a violent lunatic; something really dramatic must have happened."
"No, I can't give you a coherent story. It's still too confusing even to me." He dissembled because he had no intention of letting her know that he had intentionally attempted to rid himself of the machina or – still less - that he had been deliberately tormented by an as yet unknown presence earlier in the day. Nooj was not a forgiving man and held both his enemies and himself strictly to account for their action and, perhaps even more strongly, for their inactions. He would take his revenge himself.
"Well, whatever took place, it's all over and now we need to concentrate on getting you up walking and out of here." LeBlanc raised the head of the bed and leaned over to kiss his lips. He responded in spite of himself, twisting his fingers in the short loose curls that haloed her head.
"Why has this patient been released?" They were startled by the indignant voice of the man who appeared in the door. "It's against orders to take those straps off until we're sure he's in his right mind and won't hurt himself." The man, chief nurse of the floor, flourished the syringe-gun he held in his hand.
Pushing LeBlanc away, Nooj snarled, "Why? And what poison are you threatening to inject me with now?"
"Because it's orders from the top, that's why - you know what you did and why those orders were put in place. ... This is your pain medication..."
"I don't want it. Just let this damned spell wear off and I'll handle any pain myself. Leave me alone, damn you."
"Can't do that," the man pressed the nozzle of the spray-syringe against the skin where Nooj's neck joined his right shoulder and pulled the trigger.
Nooj tried to jerk away but his reflexes, slowed by the trauma of the past seven weeks, failed to respond in time. The medication rapidly infiltrated his blood stream, bringing its wake a deadening of sensation together with the sudden weakening of his muscles. He struggled ineffectively against the fog that rose in his mind and the gradual dimming of his vision.
"LeBlanc, tell Mounfar," he gasped as he felt his strength and will draining away. He was unable to resist as his right wrist was pulled back against the bed-frame and tightly strapped there.
She spun around brushing aside the hospital personnel who would have impeded her and, without another word, left for the office of the Obermaester.