Wyrena's eyes darted around the room, searching for some tool she might be able to use to make her escape, but nothing presented itself. She glanced longingly at her waylaid equipment, piled haphazardly in the corner opposite her. Wyrena knew that even with her equipment, she would barely stand a chance of surviving; she had heard her superiors speak of the Erisian Liberation Front operative named Porphyria as if she was some sort of demon -- they said that she had sold her soul to some nameless horror in exchange for greater power, that she had killed or driven insane any number of guardians of Order, and dozens of other rumors, each horrifying and unbelievable.
Small flickers of amusement played across Porphyria's face as she read Wyrena's thoughts. "I see my reputation precedes me somewhat, although I assure you that most of the stories about my exploits have been exaggerated. Heck, I'm the one who probably spun quite a few of those yarns that are floating through your head right now," Porphyria said gently, leaning towards Wyrena. "But let's get to business, shall we? I am looking for something -- an artifact of sorts that is being held somewhere by your order." Porphyria smiled as an image flickered across Wyrena's mind, "You know it. Good."
Wyrena knew that she could not afford to let this creature of chaos and evil know anything about the item she sought. Indeed, she knew little about it herself, other than that it was a powerful implement of Chaos. Desperately, Wyrena focused on filling her thoughts with a litany to Tyr, praying for strength to resist betraying the secrets of her order to this agent of Chaos.
Porphyria frowned slightly as she perceived the prayer occluding the mind of the Justicar. "I see that you're going to make this more difficult than it has to be. In a way, I admire that strength, but it really won't do you any good. Just let me know where the item is and how it is guarded, and you'll be free to go." Porphyria waited, but could sense nothing in Wyrena's mind other than the plaintive prayer to her god. "Very well," Porphyria sighed, "I suppose reasoning with you will not work, so I guess it's time to break out something a bit more heavy-handed."
Wyrena continued her prayer to Tyr even as she saw Porphyria take a small crystal rod from a pocket in her long green dress. A moment later, a long, whip-like ray of shimmering blue energy sprang from the rod. It hummed slightly. Wyrena prayed more fervently.
"I suppose your Justicar training has probably made you aware of some of the intricacies of flux weapons -- how they assault the mind, but leave the body largely intact." Porphyria's voice was barely a whisper now, though Wyrena could hear it echoing in her mind, the alien thought somehow seeming to come from her own mind alongside her recited litany to Tyr. "Just tell me what I want to know, and you won't have to know what it is like to have a flux whip tear away at your consciousness and sanity."
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