All the time in the world...

I'd lost track of how many days went by since that blasted elf outplayed our little strike force. J. Sunshatter... I still didn't know what the J stood for. Jerry, perhaps. Whatever his first name, he had been prepared enough to counter the Blade rather effectively that night at the Dalaran crater. Sure, the rest of them got away, but it still shamed me to think that of all the people to fall into the enemy's hands, it would be me. Aiura. I felt as though I had let Murati down again. He entrusted me with the mission, and what did I do? Go and get myself captured. Still, it wasn't all bad. For one, the Forsaken's usual methods of persuasion – that is, torture – didn't work as well as they were used to.

For instance, the barbed whip that cut repeatedly into my shoulders and caused rivulets of blood to run down by back was little more than what a living person might call, say, an insect bite in terms of irritation. Perhaps a mild wasp sting. Nothing more. I could ignore it. So ignore it I did. After several long, boring minutes the man with the whip grew tired of my silence and wandered off to consult with his colleagues on more effective torture techniques. I nearly laughed out loud when he spat on me before trudging away, muttering to himself.

I wasn't too worried about my predicament. They all considered me a prisoner, but knowing Murati it was more like I was an accidental spy. They all assumed I would eventually crack or be executed or both, but eventually is a long time when you're chained to a wooden plank with nothing to do but wait for the cavalry to arrive. And I was certain the cavalry would arrive. It was only a matter of time. A commodity which I had in surplus. So I lay there on the blood-soaked boards and listened intently to all that was going on around me. It's amazing how careless soldiers get with information around their prisoner when they consider said prisoner to be as good as dead. It was the information -I- had that they were concerned about.

But try as they might, the Forsaken scum would never get their precious information out of me. Torture just doesn't work on the unliving. Physical torture, anyway. If they had any un-rotten brains left they'd eventually try psychological torture, but I was reasonably certain that wouldn't work either. After all, I had been a slave to that blasted Lich King for longer than I cared to recall, so I was no stranger to what one might call psychological - and emotional - torture.

I had all the time in the world. All I had to do was withstand these futile attempts at causing me pain and eventually, I knew, Murati would find me. Only one tiny, nagging thought kept me from sleeping easily at night.

I had all the time in the world...and so did my captors.

I'm not going to lie, I got a bit sidetracked as soon as a whip was brought in)).

((You can ignore wasp stings?))

((... :O))