Storyboards: Justin

A dark night | Gorbek's escape | The Bean Chronicles

A dark night

It was a dark night indeed, when Gorbek made his way through a small trading outpost near Gar og Nadrak, when he spotted the Murgo. From where he stood, he could only see the shadow, but the way the shadow moved left no doubt in his mind. 'I have you now, bastard' Gorbek silently muttered to himself as he grabbed a dagger from under his sleeve and clutched it tightly. Hardly making a sound, he walked up to where the shadowy figure stood still, feeling a tad suspicious about how and why the shadow remained standing completely still for such a long time but disregarding those doubts with the thoughts of revenge. Readying his dagger, he softly whispered 'He was my friend, Murgo, now.. You die.' and he plunged his dagger into the back of the shadowy figure. Striking.. Nothing. Startled by this discovery, Gorbek quickly tried to gather his wits, but it was too late, as two men grabbed both his arms and knocked Gorbek out with a lead sap.
After what seemed to last an eternity, Gorbek woke up from his forced slumber, still feeling quite dizzy and sick from the knock on his head. He looked around, and saw that he was the only one in the room, which, after closer inspection, appeared to be a torture room, with many saws, knives and other rather masochistic appliances. 'You've done it now Gorbek. ' he said, and then, the two figures who had knocked him out, entered the room, one with a huge grin on his face, and scars on his forehead, the other, a man of short stature, wearing a scarlet robe of a Grolim.
Without saying a word, the grinning man walked up to the cabinet containing a large collection of knives, as the Grolim stepped up to Gorbek. 'I will tell you nothing' Gorbek said but the Grolim just grinned, then, after a few minutes, the Grolim continued and said 'That's ok Gorbek, I do not intend to get you to speak, quite the opposite in fact.' Then, the Murgo stuffed a large piece of cloth in Gorbek's mouth, and tightened his grip on what appeared to be a surgeon's knife. 'Lie still Gorbek, this will only hurt alot. ' he said, laughing, as he started cutting in Gorbek's flesh, just below Gorbeks kneecap.
Just before Gorbek could pass out from the pain, the Grolim uttered a few words, and suddenly, Gorbek felt a burst of energy inside him, which prevented him from passing out, but left him to feel all the pain that was inflicted upon him. The other Murgo was now working on cutting all the flesh from Gorbek's left leg, stripping it off as if peeling a banana. Gorbek's eyes filled with tears, but he couldn't pass out, nor shout. Then, the Murgo started working on Gorbek's chest, peeling away skin until his ribs were revealed. The man then grabbed a small vial, opened it and poured some of the liquid on Gorbek's chest, which immediately started to burn into it, filling the room with a nasty smell of burning flesh and chemicals.
It took the two Murgo's two days to strip Gorbek of nearly all his flesh, almost killing him on several occasions, until finally, the Grolim nodded that it was over, and muffled sigh of relief could be heard from behind the piece of cloth in Gorbek's mouth. The Murgo clutched his dagger and before Gorbek's eyes, everything went dark.
And then, he felt, nothing.

Gorbek's escape

Gorbek woke up, not knowing how many days, or even weeks he might have been unconscious after being subjected to the torture of the Grolims, but his immediate reaction was to get up, and make his way out of there. Trying to get up from his position however, proved a task too great for him and he fell back on his back, exhausted. There he lay, awake, hoping and even praying that no Grolim would come to check him out, because then he knew he would be killed instantly. Or worse.
After a few hours, constantly trying to move his legs, he thought himself fit enough to at least stand. He tried, and succeeded, though barely. If he wasn't tortured by Grolims, the pain he had while trying to walk would have been the greatest pain he had ever experienced in his life, but he knew he had to keep trying. He slowly walked towards a rack on the wall where all sorts of torture equipment were left. Apparently, the Grolims were convinced he was dead. “Must've been a close call.” Gorbek thought to himself, but thinking also renewed the headache that had finally subsided a little. He chose not to pay too much attention to it, and grabbed two sharp scalpels from the rack. He then started listening at the door.
Nothing. There was nobody there. He slowly opened the door and adjusted his eyes to the light, which took a few minutes. When he finally managed to see something, he found himself in a shack in an abandoned Murgo encampment, judging by the equipment that was apparently left in a hurry. To his north, he saw a city, which, after digging in his headache-covered memory, was, if Gorbek remembered correctly, the city of Thul Zelik.
“Strange. Why would they leave me here? Even dead. “ Gorbek thought, when he slowly walked towards the city.
He had no choice but to enter the city and cross the river to Gar og Nadrak, where he would be relatively safe. He detested Thulls. They had far too many scores to settle with him, but without at least some good rest and food, Gorbek knew he wouldn't survive another day, if he was lucky. After quite a long walk, during which he fell down several times due to the weakness in his legs, he finally entered Thull Zelik through the south gate. “Now. Where's Yerrik?” he thought as he walked through the city under the cover of shadows, thanking Belar as he went for the Thull fear of anything moving, so that he could go reasonably unnoticed, until he reached the home of the only Nadrak he knew in this city. Hoping that Yerrik would have some way to cross the river.
It took Gorbek a few hours to both adjust his legs to walking properly, and find Yerrik, one of his contacts in Thull Zelik, but eventually he managed to do both and he was quite pleased with his achievement, mainly because the pain seemed to pass away. Thull Zelik was in every thing the same as Gorbek remembered from when he was last here, though then he did not have too much time to admire the scenery as he had to make his way over the river as fast as he could. Then again, this time wasn't that different, the river still remained his last obstacle on the road to freedom.
Standing in front of the door of Yerrik's house, Gorbek shivered as the memories of what had happened in the shack returned. He managed to shrug them off, but not without a tremendous effort, and knocked on the door, twice, then waited a few seconds, then knocked three times more. A soft voice from the other side of the door answered, “Enter.”
Gorbek pushed the door open and was greeted by a Nadrak man, far chubbier than Gorbek could remember.
“My, my Yerrik, you've certainly become ... fat,” Gorbek said, smiling.
“I trust you come here for a favour, and you greet me with that?” Yerrik replied, right before he started laughing and gave Gorbek a pat on the back, which nearly made Gorbek fall over. “Well then, Justin, what is it you need?” Yerrik asked right after, “I do not have much time to spare. We'd have to catch up later.”
“A boat. I miss your beautiful country.” Justin replied, trying to find the pouch filled with silver that usually hung by his side. “But I'll have to pay you later I'm afraid.”
“Who's chasing you out of this godforsaken country this time?” said Yerrik but he wasn't laughing as he saw a few of the scars on Justin's arms and face. “But fine, I'll help you, I know you're good for it. I'll send a message to you in a short while, with the costs I made to send you across, and you can pay me then.” And with that, Yerrik called for a small lad who was waiting in the corner of the room, and Justin wanted to slap himself in the face for overlooking him. Yerrik whispered something in the boy’s ear, and said “Go to the harbour right now, same location as last time, you'll find a boat there that will take you aboard. Good luck to you, Justin.”
“Thank you Yerrik, I definitely owe you one,” Justin replied, and Yerrik answered, “I think you'll owe more, more than just one. Quite possibly a pouch full of 'favours'“ Justin laughed, causing quite a bit of pain in his chest, then he shook Yerrik's hand and left the room, heading towards the river.

The Bean Chronicles

Seasick and tired, Justin stumbled through the harbour area of Darine hoping to find an inn to get some rest before heading south into Sendaria. A group of watchmen was quick to notice Justin and halted him by blocking his path. "State your name and business, Drasnian" their leader said.
"Gorbek of Boktor," Justin answered, "Just arriving from Kotu and just passing through" he continued, hoping this answer would satisfy the watchmen. Luckily for Justin the watch was apparently nearly over and they decided not to follow up on the questioning and let him pass.
After that it didn't take Justin long to find an inn where he could get a warm meal and some rest. Strangely, the bar was not packed with the usual abundance of sailors but only a few regulars and a small group of bored waitresses. A fat bartender gazed at Justin and yelled,
"I'm not serving the likes of you today!"
"Looks like you're not serving anyone," Justin answered. The patrons at the bar quickly stood up from their stools and started to walk towards Justin who was already heading towards the door.
As Justin tried to run out of the inn, he charged straight into another group of burly men of which one grabbed Justin by the neck and nearly lifted him a foot off the ground. Justin quickly decided he wasn't going to wait to hear the reasons for this poor treatment and made quick work of the burly man's groin by kicking it with his steel tipped leather boots. The man let go and Justin rapidly slipped by the others before running into a dark alleyway next to the inn leading southwards into the centre of the city.
Looking back a few times to check if he wasn't followed Justin finally eased his step and walked towards another inn which looked more expensive and less rowdy. He had hoped to save his money for a little while longer but more such encounters would definitely cause him to lose more than a few gold pieces. He pushed the door of tavern open and entered a friendly-looking common room, packed with the wealthier kind of merchants and a bard standing on a chair entertaining the guests with songs that Justin had never heard before. It only dawned to Justin, as he sat down at a free table in the corner, that all the songs the bard sung had an uncomfortably religious ring to them.

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