Europe

Sighing, he looked back to the sorceress. He didn't even know her name yet. This was a social etiquette nightmare. When people were getting pounded into unconsciousness twice before even introducing themselves, it was time to revise your approach to new faces (and not in terms of combat stance).

The woman had oddly short black hair, and one of the longest necks Fred had seen, adorned with no less than seven necklaces and three talismans - one grey, one bluey-green, and one pure red, like Astra's hair. She looked to be in her middle ages, though Fred did not put much stock in this - it would take a relatively simple spell to change one's appearance, especially inside a tower such as this, where magic seemed to seep from the walls. He was sure that the gargoyle standing next to the exit had winked at him a moment ago. And he could've sworn that the rug beneath his feet was grumbling very quietly every so often.

Fred turned, frowning, to the myriad jungle of bookcases that extended down the remainder of the room where Astra had gone searching some minutes ago. What was that annoying banging sound?

Just then, he heard the sorceress stir....

...

Astra knew she had to stop bashing her head soon or she would invite concussion. Couldn't Fred hear her?

Having been hogtied, gagged and generally rendered helpless by sentient bonds, Astra had tried to worm her way across the aisle of bookcases to a position where Fred might have see her. The rope, however, had had other ideas, wrapping one of its coils around a nearby statue, tethering her to the spot. She had then remembered the breadknife she had pocketed as a potential weapon in a previous room, but when she tried to reach the fold of clothing she had placed it inside, a small sliver of the rope had disengaged from its parent and bound her fingers tightly together. It was at this point that the rope had clearly decided it was dealing with a wriggler, and elected to tie both her knees and her elbows together as well.

And now, almost completely immobile, Astra was resorting to hitting her head against the hard wood of the nearest bookcase, desperately trying to attract Fred's attention. Not even the enchanted rope could stop her from doing that. But Fred did not come. Astra wondered if the sorceress had already disposed of him and was now walking down the room towards her, dreaming of even worse punishments than she may have harboured before Astra had punched her in the face.

Astra sighed through her gag and let her head fall gently to the carpeted floor. Her arms and back were beginning to ache from the strain, especially now with her elbows drawn so close together behind her back. She had a headache from her no-handed drumming session. Where did it all go wrong? Why had she reacted with such violence towards the sorceress? Where was Fred now?

The epitome of it all had to have been when she picked up the magic rope. Surely she should have realised that there wasn't generally much call for rope, or a cloth for that matter, when you were looking for a book? It might even had been content to leave her be had she walked past it, but no. She had stuck her hand straight into that particular bees nest, and was now well and truly stung. Was something in this tower affecting her judgement?

Rolling onto her side with a grunt - even that movement took effort - Astra briefly considered trying to struggle free again, but quickly dismissed the idea. The previous time she had attempted escape through force, the rope had tightened around her body to an almost excruciating degree. And she wasn't convinced that it had loosened much when she had ceased.

Rope, she thought idly, shouldn't be this clever.

~Smells like sour grapes to me~

The voice.....

Astra gasped so fiercely she almost swallowed her cloth-gag.

(Yep YEp yEppERs, so SOUr TheY ALMoSt PRUUUUNNNEEESSS!)

:you're: thinking: of: dates: you: numpty: grapes: turn: into: raisins:

This Tangent Holds Little/No Reason/Cause/Point. This One Maintains/Believes Grapes Are Grapes. This One Is Not Surprised/Shocked/Amazed The Woman/Warrior/Princess/Captive Is Un/Nothappy.

The voice....those Voices.....oh, God....

(HEeeEE NYahAhAHA! GOod fIGHt iN hEr thouGH. FigHt fIGhT BATtle, sHE made ME REMEMBER! nYAH.)

The Voices were in her head.....

1. Fred watched, unsure what to do, as the sorceress rose once more from her bed, fixing him with a nasty glare.

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