An Archmage's Request

Greetings 

I'm just going to use this space to post various open-ended starters. Feel free to respond to one, or send me a message directly if you have an idea you want to work with. I'm pretty flexible for the most part but I do tend to drift towards a specific character but, again, pretty flexible if I'm interested. Anywho~

I intended for this to be open ended for the most part. My character is a mage, not the strongest in the world but powerful enough to have his own tower of Wizardy( but not the Harry Potter kind). Your characters reason for seeking out mine can literally be whatever. A mage hunter, an apprentice seeking power, a lost soul wandering into his forest, an adventurer seeking a powerful ally, anything really. Those who live in seclusion oft seek entertainment in whatever form it comes in. The Archmage is no different.

A lone tower stood perched upon a cliffside overlooking a vast ocean, it's design intricate with slight flair of mysticism. It stood just shy of 200 meters tall and dominated the surrounding landscape, an easy feat as the surrounding forests stretched for miles on end. Fortified by both land and sea the ebony and gold laced spire was the perfect home for one who sought a different course in life, one in pursuit of knowledge of a more arcane nature. It was indeed this sort of figure that sat comfortably in a chair across a fireplace within, wrapped in fine crimson silken robes reflecting the ember glow from the fireplace. The hood of the robes had been pulled over its head and the robes clung tight its frame but what little that could be discerned from a first glance was that this was a moderately toned, dark skinned male.

As day began to set the waning sunlight of the evening hours and the encroaching darkness began to reveal various runes lined across the spires ebony visage. Though the effects of the runes were not obvious it was clear they helped maintain the quiet harmony of the owner’s domain, an invisible third layer of defense to ward against unwanted vagrants and prying eyes. As if something had suddenly piqued his interest, the hooded figure slowly began to stir and within an instant it vanished without a trace. In the same instant it reappeared atop the very tip of the spire, it's robes billowing against the wind as two faintly glowing, yellowish eyes scanned the horizon. Only one thought crossed it's mind as his gaze lingered on the landscape below.

“Someone or….something comes.”

Pretty much imagined this while I was going to bed and decided to put it on paper. I admit the obvious fit for this is a Master/Mistress/Slave scenario considering my character is already bound and used for profit it's pretty easy for someone to buy him for the right price, though breaking him may or may not be so easy. But there are also tones of gladiators, prisoner rivalry, escape etc. Sky's the limit.

Within the confines of a deep, dark, dank and musky cell sat a man bound in chains. He sat near the back of the cell, his back pressed firmly against the cold stone, his head turned upwards towards the ceiling staring at nothing in particular. Most days were like this, his only company the his lingering thoughts of freedom and the accompanying darkness that surrounded him. This wasn’t a prison, more of a slaughterhouse. Built to erode the wills and lives of those within. It was a rarity to survive more than a week here, even more so a month. Yet the occupant of this cell had been confined to it’s depths for long enough to forget exactly how long. His dirty blond locks fell shoulder length, unkempt and knotted thoroughly. His facial hair as equally unkempt, knotted and had grown to a full beard. The light pitter patter of footsteps approaching his cell brought him out of his stupor and turned his attention towards the manacles that bound his hands together. What a curious enchantment, He thought, deceptively simple yet incredibly effective. I’d love to study it in a more fitting setting. Again his contemplation had been broken, this time by a sliding lock and grating steel. “ Time to shine, Dawnbreaker. Todays the day we snuff out that light of yours.”

How many times have we played this game. Following the guard hadn’t been a conscious effort on his part. The path to the pit was the same, it had always been the same. It was almost as if he was detached from his body watching the same act run on repeat. A twist and a turn and suddenly he stood within a pit of burning sand, a crowd cheering overhead, a booming voice announcing the competition. Bathed in the full light of the pit the man’s figure was fully revealed. He possessed an unnaturally muscular frame for someone that had been starved and malnourished for months on end and stood at around 5’9. His ebony skin had been scared lightly yet it still radiated an unnatural luster for one that had been confined to darkness. Truly this man was an oddity to these lands, an exploitable and easily marketed oddity. “The Unkillable” they called him, unimaginative but it still managed to draw a crowd.

As quickly as the melee had begun it was over and once more he found himself wandering back through the path to his cell, reeking of blood and gore, covered from head to toe in clumps of blood drenched sand. “ Heh, 6 not enough to to put you in a grave? I told them we should have gone for 10.” The guards taunts didn’t even register in his mind. He knew what they weren’t aware of. He knew he held back, intentionally drawing out the every competition until a “fluke” occurs and he’s the only one left standing. To them he was just some freak bound in chains which they could make a profit out of and he meant to keep it that way. At least until he found a way to seek his freedom once more.