A Missing Lion [Open to related posts]

They had titansteel chains binding him to the crossbar of the T, as he hung there. It struck him as funny that he could tell what kind of metal it was that made up the chains holding him fast, but that humor had an edge of hysteria to it. He had no idea where it was they had taken him, but he here he was, hanging from a wooden T, from the ceiling of a shadowy room. Somewhere.

His body ached. They periodically came in, beating him, or flat out injuring him, for some reason. One time, it was a length of chain. Another, it was the gauntleted fists of someone with some serious strength behind them. Another time… well, the less he dwelled on it, the better.  All he knew was that they would come in, take their time causing him pain, and then leave. And in the in-between times, he could feel the Light working to mend his body.

That heavy oaken door, across the room, swung open, adding more light to the dim room and making him squint in pain. He heard the clank of mail armor and plate, and the soft swish of cloth. A cloak? Robes?  At any rate, the sounds drew closer as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.  In time, the blurs resolved to silhouettes, and then figures. There he was, the bastard that was in charge that night at the shop, back home.

“Good, you’re awake on your own. That means we can have a little conversation.”

Folcan drew his shoulders up, and pulled on the chains, trying to bring his arms together. The heavy beam he was bound to creaked loudly under the onslaught.

“Ah! You see, Indrovis, this is what I am talking about. You see that strength? That’s not the strength of just body, but of soul as well!  This is what makes him capable of it!”  The figure in robes turned back to Folcan, looking him in the eyes and smiling. “The Scourge of Scourges must come to be. I have seen it! The Forsaken and the Scourge must be scoured from our world, now that Sargeras is bound once more. Our world can return to being pure again, once those abominations are removed!  And you, my good man, are going to make it happen!”

Folcan glared. “I’m not doing a damned thing for you. Ever. I still remember your kind the last time you had me. You wanted me to father soldiers for you. Like hell!”

The other figure, clad in crimson robes with gold trim, just smiled. “Oh, young man, no. You don’t realize it. You are not going to do it for us. You are going to do it because it’s the right thing to do. Because you know as well as I do that those creatures have no place in our world, and it is time for them to go.” He leaned in closer. “You’re going to do it because you want to.”

The man straightened up, and the figures beside him pulled out short truncheons made of heavy wood.

“Or, at least, you will want to. Much like working metal, you have to b tempered, to know the right way. And before you temper steel, you shape it.”  The figures advanced on Folcan.

“So, now, we must shape you, before you can see things as they truly are…”