[b][u]Knights of Silver[/u][/b] [b]Chapter Two - Deep Within[/b] [spoiler]Closed.[/spoiler] [i]Oliver found himself thrown to his knees. His bloodied, torn remnants of armoring clattered at it's harsh treatment, though the constant ringing in his ears and the pain swelling through his entire body would drown that out. He was in a dimly lit room, though not some sort of interrogation room like the others had been taken to. The others, as in the few survivors. Prisoners of war.[/i] [i]He was horrified. For all of them. The men would be thrown in slavery, or forces to fight, wouldn't they? The women, forced as subjects for these sand warrior's pleasure? It tore away at him. That night, he took twenty-one lives - an impressive count, for a youthful knight with only a sword, a dagger, and a fetched shield from a fallen ally that was busted and broken. Why not end his life?[/i] [i]The supposed leader of the desert warriors, a man wrapped in the cloth of his fallen prey, scoffed underneath his masque of death as his obsidian eyes looked up at a figure that Oliver could not see. His head had been forced to stare at the ground by steel hands, his arms bounded together loosely, though he dared not to attack his captors. Few had tried to resist. All had failed.[/i] "You promised me gold, Knight-Commander. Where is it?" [i]The muffled, accented voice of the man would ring out, as he approached the figurine of the Knight-Commander, still hidden away from Oliver's gaze. A soft clatter was heard, as if this Commander was turning his head: a man wrapped in the shell of armor, evidentially.[/i] "I did," [i]His voice rang out through his steel helmet, deep and smooth, yet youthful but matured still.[/i] "The bаstard will be our hostage, for a greater reward. But harm shall not befall him, nor the others that came amongst him." [i]Oliver's immediate reaction was.. surprise, perhaps. Was it a lie? Or was it truth? He would deny his constraints, soon finding himself looking up at this Knight-Commander - fully adorned in steel plate, with no sigils nor symbols upon the white cloth, and-[/i] "[i]Cur![/i]" [i]A sudden slap was delivered to Oliver's face, sending his bounded frame sprawling to the cobblestone flooring as his face would grind against the stone. He felt a boot stomping onto his head, as the sand warrior's treacherous leader hissed at his stomped prey.[/i] "I.. do not agree to these terms, not with this abominable thing amongst their ranks! Fuсk the rest of them - but this one put his sword through a son of mine. An eye for an eye - but first, the hand that committed the crime!" [i]Oliver would hear the ringing of swords surrounding him, while the warriors of the sands that once held him down then surrounded him, their backs turned to his soon rising frame. He saw the Tribulation's knights drawing their blades, a faint glimpse at the mysterious Knight-Commander then drawing his own, before he felt a blade and tightened against his right hand. Then, only searing agony ran through his arm, as a rushing scream of agony escaped the young man's lips. He could feel the muscle and flesh being sawed apart, he could feel the sharpened blade cutting through the wrist as if a saw was ripping through.[/i] [i]When the deed was done, and before the battle ensued, all that Oliver saw was a limp, sawed off, right hand, before his vision then fell into a deep blackness.[/i] [spoiler]Imma get the open posts up.[/spoiler]