A forest that was not there yesterday

[unprophesied_of_ages]

The Lord Ruler is in his palace, when he sees a sight he hasn't seen in centuries. Trees, sunlight...is he hallucinating? The fact that there's a forest in his living room isn't the surprising part. The fact that there's a forest on his planet is. As soon as he walks through the door to where his living room isn't, it's definitely not a hallucination.

His stores of Allomantic metals abruptly disappear. They're still physically there, but the power is completely gone. He immediately turns to go back, only to see more forest.

At least his Feruchemy still works—he can tell because he's still alive—but that won't last him forever. He only has so much stored youth, and without both sets of abilities he can't replenish it. He hasn't been in so much danger since the beheading that one time. Returning to Scadrial is the highest and currently only priority. If spontaneous forests are a thing, he needs to find someone who can explain them and more importantly how to get back.

The next few hours are spent walking in an essentially randomly chosen direction, with the sun to his right. He's quite certain that suns are supposed to be moving across the sky, but that's not a pressing emergency. He already knew he wasn't on his own planet when he saw proper trees and plants instead of ash-covered monstrosities. Whenever he calls out, nobody responds. If it's an empty spontaneous forest, he's probably doomed.

After some time, he hears his stomach growl. He hasn't seen much that looks edible, but possibly that's just because he's not used to real plants. Berries. Berries used to exist. Those berries look tasty, and if they're poisonous it's not like he needs to worry about it. As always, he has a truly ridiculous amount of stored health in his gold jewelry. Tapping gold just in case, he eats a handful.

Comments

[unprophesied_of_ages]

Thank you, omnipotent sorcerer.
He charges through, rather redundantly using precognition on top of speed. No telling what's inside that room, after all.

[alicornucopia]

Well, then, the tiniest sliver of a second in advance, he will get to see that now everything is absolutely dark. And the entire palace shakes with an

absolutely

tremendous

NOISE

[unprophesied_of_ages]

Ow.
(tin)
Better.

He doesn't even know if the Queen is in here, but there's an obvious thing to try. He grabs a dart that was meant for the crossbow, and hurls it in a direction. He is of course calling on enough luck to make a one-in-a-million shot, plus five percent or so.

[alicornucopia]

He can neither see or hear if it hit.

And now he's completely wrapped in chains, including across his mouth and binding his limbs so tightly that they'd break if he were a normal person. They feel like they're made of perfectly smooth stone.

[unprophesied_of_ages]

Oh, fun.

If it were stone, it'd barely impede him. Since it is, it clearly has magic behind it. He starts straining against it, spending as much strength as it takes to break out of this thing.

[alicornucopia]

Nope.

The pitch darkness and the noise continue.

Hands poke him to see if he is somehow getting out of there. Pat pat prod prod they have no respect for his dignity whatever. They remove removable objects.

[unprophesied_of_ages]

He's not getting out. Especially once the removable objects are gone. The bracers on his upper arms don't get removed, possibly because they're thoroughly attached to his arms via spikes, but he's left with no metalminds except the ones keeping him young. And, of course, a piece of gold he had implanted in his jaw after the incident with the beheading. This adds up to: No metallic means of escape.

[alicornucopia]

Sucks to be him.

They continue patting and prodding him. They inspect the bracers, then leave them alone. They wait for another minute of dark dark dark, noise noise noise. After this minute, something sugary is insinuated through the chain gag in his mouth. With a long utensil to push it down his throat. Yummy. This happens three times.

[unprophesied_of_ages]

It sucks to be him even more, now that he's tinless and the noise is back. That's probably not his biggest problem right now.

[alicornucopia]

Nope.

The noise dies down. The darkness remains. The damage to his hearing clears with a crackle.

A woman's voice says, "Do nothing."

[unprophesied_of_ages]

He reverts to his chronological age, and also starts to not breathe. These do not combine well for him.

[alicornucopia]

"He is withering away," says the voice. "Do you wish his death, my queen?"

"Not yet," says another woman's. "Keep him alive, without loosening his binding." (Air feeds itself into his lungs without his intervention. His aging reverts, although not much.) "Throw him in the dungeon." (Someone picks him up and begins to carry him away.) "See to repairs. Determine who he subverted on his way in. Renew their orders. Put out his eyes." (Someone puts out Alendi's eyes. This is a standard amount of painful.) "Call in Flay and Whetstone. Restore the light." (Alendi has no eyes and may not be able to appreciate this.)

[unprophesied_of_ages]

Those are not names of people Alendi wants to meet. He resists with every action he conceivably can, which is none.

[alicornucopia]

Alendi, eyeless and kept breathing and not shriveling to death solely on the sufferance of another's sorcery, is carried out of the room, tossed casually down an empty fairy "stairwell" and allowed to hit bottom in a way that only breaks his hip and both legs and not his skull, and then picked up again and carried some more.

[unprophesied_of_ages]

He can't even cry out.

[alicornucopia]

Nope! Everyone here is sure that the fairy hauling him would be suddenly moved to compassion if he did yelp, of course.

The dungeons are (as far as the blinded prisoner can tell by listening and feeling) earthen pits, with grates overhead. He is dropped into one. Ow. The grate is shut with a clang. There are footsteps, retreating; more approach and fade, as though there are patrolling guards above his pit.

[unprophesied_of_ages]

Alendi tries to count his injuries. The running total so far is "lots."

He lies where he lands, and stays there until further notice.

[alicornucopia]

It turns out his orders prevent him from trying to fall asleep. But he can do it otherwise. While languishing in immobile silent blinded agony in a pit and contemplating his life choices.

[unprophesied_of_ages]

Mainly it's the Queen's choices that he's contemplating. He disapproves.

[alicornucopia]

He is left undisturbed, oxygenated but not breathing, alive but not vigorous, injured and unhealed.

Thorn's deadline approaches.






And then, in his ear:

Yellow's voice whispers, "I rescind Queenscourt orders."

[unprophesied_of_ages]

He gasps. For the first time in somewhere between minutes and weeks. His injuries heal, and the pain becomes a memory.

This can't possibly be Yellow's initiative.

"Mmph?"

Chain. Of course.

[imeanforever]

"Hang on," says Promise's voice, low and careful. "Keep quiet."

And one of the links on the chain breaks. The entire thing is a continuous mass; he could wriggle out of it now.

[unprophesied_of_ages]

He doesn't, because keeping quiet is a really good idea, but he whispers a summary across the gate.

"They came up with something I couldn't break. Magic stone of some kind.

But I got off a dart first, and if that can get past whatever defenses we don't know about then it did."

[imeanforever]

"So you might have got her? You got close enough? You don't have your name - did she feed you, did she order you?"

[unprophesied_of_ages]

"Three people fed me. She might have been one of them—I certainly would have, in her position—but she didn't order me, so I can't say for sure whether I got her."