New Beginning 994

The old sorcerer examined his hands in the dim dungeon light. Only one thing in his cell could cut sinew and bone. Because of his panacea, his teeth were perfect, and his jaw was strong. His little fingers were useless now so he began chewing. It was painful but not so much as death by fire.
The first phalanx came free and a moment later he gnawed the tissue off. He crawled on hands and knees, his shackles scraping the stone floor. With a bone to the right of the door, he sat back and began on the second phalanx. In an hour, five bones defined the points of the pentagram.
Next was blood. His fingers already clotted, he searched for something sharp enough for skin. A sharp iron point protruded from one of the door’s iron bars. Forcing his arm into it caused little bleeding and it healed immediately.
As he tried thinking of something else, he clicked his tongue as his mother had done hundreds of years ago. Then, he rushed back to the door. Using his shackled wrists, he forced his tongue into the iron point. He ripped it open and continued tearing it back and forth. Agony. But soon his mouth filled with blood. It was enough for the pentagram with plenty left for the priest.
After he finished, he sat back with blood in his mouth and awaited the young confessor. A fresh young body. It would feel so good to be young again.

By the by, a guard returned and peered through the bars into the dim cell. "Well, aren't you the messy one," he declared. "But at least you're still here -- were I you, I would have just conjured a doorway in the south wall and fled through the forest..."

The sorcerer considered the guard's words for a few moments, then rested his head on what remained of his palm. "Bugger," he said.


Opening: Thomas Harrington.....Continuation: Anon.