Kaustir, Chapter 3

[Zen]

Barricades surrounded the barracks of Avarath, with armed guards patrolling the perimeter. Littered on the ground were spears, halberds, swords, and bodies. Another pair of guards were tossing the corpses onto carts pulled by camels and Amalia couldn't ignore the stench as she approached the building. She tried to avert her gaze.

Inside was a cacophony of noise, ones that Amalia was accustomed to. In front of her stood a wooden desk, occupied by a tiger anima - General Kirtin, if she remembered correctly. Behind him were cots brimming with wounded soldiers and civilians. Some were sleeping, others were moaning, or out cold. Healers tended to them as best they could and Amalia had a sudden urge to join them. Judging from her sparse glances, many of the soldiers suffered burns. It struck her as odd.

She looked behind to ensure that Takeda and Seiyr had followed and cleared her throat.

"General Lortik reporting for duty sir."

General Kirtin looked up and frowned. His expression gave way to recognition and he stood, easily towering over Amalia.

"Ah so you've returned." His orange eyes passed over the soldiers. "Where is the rest of your party?"

"They are helping to stop the rebellion sir."

"They should have stayed with you General."

"I did not see that as necessary sir."

General Kirtin paused, rifled through his papers and produced a poster with K'jol's face. "This is why it is necessary."

Amalia's eyes flew through the words on the poster. "This is outrageous. K'jol was with me in Dorgrad fighting off the hive infestation. How could he be responsible for the rebellion?"

"He could have accomplices," came Kirtin's curt reply. "Someone to initiate the fighting while he was gone so he wouldn't be suspected."

Amalia dropped the poster onto the desk. "I refuse to believe this."

The anima's stare was frigid. "You can refuse it all you want, but you have your orders General Lortik. K'jol is a wanted criminal and needs to be brought forth."

"What evidence do you have against him?"

"Plenty. He is a famed draken, who believes that his species is superior to the rest. He despises the nocturne and has more than enough influence to start this rebellion."

"K'jol despises no one race."

"Is that what he told you?"

She nodded stiffly and received a pitiful look from Kirtin. Fine, she wouldn't push her luck. "What are the damages?"

"The Market District has been sacked by both draken and nocturne forces. The Summer Palace is mostly intact, but items have turned up missing. There are about five hundred citizens dead, many are the rebel forces. We were going to impale them on the bed of Roses, but it's a waste of resources. Instead they will be left to rot in the sun."

Amalia grimaced. "Is Mayor Gulzar okay with this decision?"

"It isn't Gulzar who is taking care of the rebels."

She glanced down at the poster. "Did he have anything to do with this?"

General Kirtin narrowed his eyes. "Are you going to continue questioning me or are you going to go out and do your duty Lortik? There are innocent citizens dying."

Amalia stuttered. "I... Well I need to know - "

"Understand that we've done our investigating and it is your job to follow your orders." He pointed to the door. "You're dismissed."

***​

Outside, Amalia was fuming. Despite being a higher rank than General Kirtin, she was tossed aside as a lowly soldier. No doubt he thought that she was not competent enough to handle things in Avarath. Well - she bristled indignantly- she'll show everyone that a novice such as her could handle herself quite well in the heat of battle.

"Takeda, I need you to find K'jol. Take him somewhere secluded, an abandoned house will do. He can't be seen by the public and he most definitely cannot be taken in. I'm going to see Gulzar."

From her bag, Amalia withdrew her shawl and sarong, using both to hide her face and the sword fastened to her waist. Takeda opened his mouth to protest.

"We don't have a choice in the matter. Seiyr and I will see Gulzar and see if he can fix this. I know K'jol isn't behind this. I just know it."

 

[MiNaGi]

Arania Velka - Avarath

[dash=magenta]As they were walking, her hand instinctively went to her back, as if she was sore in that area. If he just knew... She sighed slightly, unable to tear her thoughts away from something as trivial... she would have to collect herself.

"I would be joyed if I was so free. But, do note, Rakar, I might not be the person that you've seen so far. Everything that I've shown up until now... not even you would know if it was all just a mask to fool you, the General, everyone I've ever saved. No one would know if this is just a cover-up for something gruesome and cruel that can only be fought down by feigning good intentions."

The silence that followed seemed suffocating, and before either of them was able to say something, they were standing in front of her shop. It seemed that the front had been damaged, but looking from the outside, the inside did not seem different.

Without control of her movements, she moved inside the shop and looked around, quickly making her way up the narrow staircase to her quarters. There hadn't been taken anything, and everything was as she left it. From the hooks on the walls she took a leather bag, stuffing a small amount of handwritten books into it, bringing another leather bag down with her.

From a cabinet safely sealed behind the counter, she took out vials and little packages of herbs wrapped in leather as well as some other things in jars. The things were neatly placed into the bag, and she looked around for a while before collecting some things and placing it on the table in the middle of the shop.

"I've gotten all of the research that should be useful, and the things that I need to get with me. All of the things here will be useful in treating the soldiers, anything from headaches to burns, cut wounds or infections, so if we could bring it, that would be wonderful."

Arania smiled softly as she looked at Rakar, her expression softer than it had been before, pained with memories.

"Even with what I might be, I'm still a healer at heart. I won't be able to rest until I've helped treat the injuried of this rebellion. I'm sure the healers could need a helping hand. I just don't want to stand still."

Even so, her hands were shaking. It was the fear, manifesting itself deep in her mind where it could not be torn out or avoided. It would stay there like a burning white flame, making its way to the front of her consciousness in the weirdest times. Now was one of them. Without looking back at Rakar, she stiffly walked to the door.

"After you have gotten the medicine from here, burn the place down. I don't want any of my former patients hurt if the rebels were to take revenge of those associated with a nocturne healer." [/dash]

 

[Kino]

Rakar didn't know what to say. Arania wasn't make much sense to him. It was clear there was something she wasn't telling him. Something she was either afraid of, or ashamed of. Maybe both. Either way, He didn't pry further. It was not his place to go digging into her thoughts. She said she was a healer at heart, and that she wanted to help those who were hurt. That was good enough for him. The thought that he might be a little too trusting crossed his mind, but only for a moment. He needed this. He needed to believe that she wasn't like the others.

He remained silent, as he often did. While she looked through the shop, he stood guard near the entrance, listening. Whens he asked him to gather what he could, then burn the building down, his reply came in the form of a concerned gaze at her. She nodded to him, reaffirming her decision, and a small sigh escaped his nostrils.

After gathering as much of the medicine in the shop as he could carry into a leather sack, Rakar made his way outside, where Arania was already waiting. He set the sack down in front of her, and gave her the same concerned gaze as before. She did not waver from her decision. The large Draken went back inside, and began breaking apart whatever wooden furniture was inside. Chairs, tables, shelves, anything that could be used to make a pile for the fire inside. Once done, he came out, took an oil lantern being used as a street light, and threw it onto the pile of wood.

He stood there next to her, watching the flames build and spread. Luckily, there was nothing close enough to the shop for the fire to spread out of control. Rakar rested a gauntlet covered hand on her shoulder, in an effort to console her, but unfortunately, there would be no time. A small group of armed Nocturnes was approaching from both sides of the street. Two on the left, 3 on the right. They did not look happy.

"So, another one of you damned Draken burning down more of the city, huh?" The one in the middle of the 3 on the right spoke.

"And what's this? A Nocturne sympathizer? And here I thought that we were all united together... Well no matter. There's five of us and one of you. We'll show you that we aren't afraid of you rebels!"

Rakar was about to speak up to try and quell the situation, but it before he could say anything, the two from the left rushed in and attacked. Rakar stepped around Arania, drawing his sword, and parried one, using his shield to block the other. He quickly countered, driving his sword through one's chest, for the other, he swung his shield, slamming the spikes into the Nocturne's body and sending him to the ground, screaming in pain.

"Arania, go! I'll hold them off!"

 

[Tone 6th]

To harbor a criminal went against everything Takeda learned in his time in the military, but it was a direct order from a superior. He knew K'jol was innocent, why would the Draken send his own people into a frenzy? Still it meant betraying the wishes of another superior what was he to do? Takeda's heart sank as he look at Amalia, his face cold and emotionless. He slowly drew his blade, it shimmered in the moon light, "Amalia you do realize you are giving me grounds to arrest you, right?" his voice filled with sadness. "I can't betray the oath I made to the Czar and my people Amalia... I know K'jol is innocent, but there is a higher power here pulling the stings. Think about it wasn't it convenient that once we left K'jol became a wanted man? Think this through Amalia!" he begged. "You have to understand Amalia I can not carry out an order to help a criminal. Even if we know he is innocent the Empire sees him as guilty. You must understand why I can not accept this task." There was a long pause between the two broken only by the howling of the wind hitting the houses "If you go through with this Amalia I will arrest you and bring you to the Mayor myself, but please understand its nothing personal I'm only doing my job." he said calmly.

 

[Zen]

Betrayal. By her trusted mentor.

Not that she wasn't excused from the crime either. She was defying orders as well, and she was making her party follow through. But she expected them to listen to her and not listen to their moral compass. That was naive of her, and a selfish decision.

Amalia stared long and hard at Takeda, sizing him up. She would no longer place her trust so easily onto one person, not anymore. And behind her shawl her eyes were smoldering. The paternal feelings she had for Takeda were shifting into one of anger and loathing. But her instincts in K'jol's innocence was strong, and she would be damned if she allowed him to be taken away without sorting this out herself.

A lump formed in her throat as she raised her hands.

"Then take me to Gulzar."

 

[DotCom]

Shae - Avarath, darkred

[dash=darkorange]On the fourth day, she was drunk.

She was tired and frustrated after two days of fruitless searches. They yielded their normal fare -- madman and his harem in a Viridosi market; a trio of strangers in a dark chamber -- and little else besides. Sleepless nights, raging headaches. It was not until the night the raiders found her market she had any success.

She dreamt of the Avian, but it was the girl who wandered her thoughts.

Mirror's Edge

She knew him at once from the black of his wings.

He stood with his back to her, his naked body haloed in an ethereal sheen of reverence and fear.

Before him, there was a crudely constructed altar of a sort, or perhaps a pyre, though it did not burn. She watched with a feeling of illness rising in her throat, a terrible foreboding that threatened to crush her under its weight.

Still, she stepped closer as if drawn there, keenly aware she did not want to be in this place, and yet unable to look away. If the man sensed her presence as she circled him, he gave no indication. His attention was wholly focused on his altar, on his task.

He tilted back his head and reached into his mouth, removing a tooth with a sickening determination, a stoicism bordering on madness.

Shae felt herself shiver as she tried to pull from the dream. Somewhere, a small black stoat was sinking tiny teeth into her finger.

She could not wake.

The worshipper began draw patterns on his arm, slow, delicate, as if entranced. She wondered if there were fumes rising in the small chamber. She could feel sweat crawling down her skin.

"Almighty mother, all I am, all I have left, I give to you."

The Avian began to tremble and writhe.

The air closed in around her like a vice.

Something slithered, ruthless, against the bare skin of her neck.

Shae screamed.

She had woken in a cold sweat to find the moonlight refracted through a glass wing overhead.

Shae made a habit off leaving the market while there was still light to see by. Her best customers were daytime tourists at a stretch. But these strange new scryings had left her in a sleepless stupor, half drunk on insomnia and Kresnick, searching her mirrors for another glimpse of...what? The snow-capped peaks of Pegulis? Kaustir's dead, dry sands? She had never before been all that interested in what she saw in her mirrors. What mattered was what she sold the people. And yet she had not been able to remove the images in her mind of the girl she had seen, and the man who loomed over her...

Perhaps she had been foolish to look again. Perhaps that was why she had seen nothing helpful in two days. And yet on the night the raiders finally reached her market, she found a familiar face at the mirror's edge. Not the bleeding woman, but the black-winged Avian. She did not know or care who he was. But she had never seen a figure twice.

And he had put her on her back. She had opened her eyes to see Vitro circling in lazy, delicate spirals overhead. The market was half empty, as it had been since the Kaustirian officials had finally descended upon it. She'd only come to see what she might scrape together from desperate hangers on, and then on a sudden desperate whim, she had searched again, for anything and nothing.

Instead, she'd found him. What he did, what he said, she could not guess. But she had seen him twice now in a matter of days, and even she could not take that lightly.

She had returned to the market early the next morning, finding it still mostly abandoned, save for blood stains and carrion crows. She waited a moment, then started to turn before the streets could exact their own form of vengeance. A hollow moan stopped her.

The hopeless cry seemed to go on and on, rolling upward from the gutted escape of some dim, dark room at the far end of the market.

Shae sat up and gave a short, sharp whistle calling the glass dragon down to her shoulder. Ombre tightened around her neck as if in warning, which was just precisely how she knew to creep in closer.

[/dash]

 

[Torsty]

Avarath, The Mayor's Mansion, brown

It had been days since he last slept. Three, maybe four? He did not remember. Daily patterns and routines shift to second priority when your life gets turned up-side-down. He had not eaten in a day. He had not left the office of his inner city mansion in the old diplomat's district since the execution of Zarathustra.

Work kept him busy, work kept him from losing his mind.

His mansion was not left untouched by the rebellion. They had not sullied the building structure, but burned down his botanic garden. A treasury housing his personal collection of reptilian animals. A haven overseen by his late good friend Nasim Imadi.

**

Gulzar stands alone in his grandeur office holding a piece of paper while uttering words and wavering with his free hand.

A messenger arrives and knocks on the door.

"General Amalia Lortik and her party have arrived, Mayor Ganguly!"

"She is still alive?" The Mayor asks himself lowly while he looks down at his office desk which is covered in papers. He is working on something.

"Pardon, Mayor?"

"Nothing!" He proclaims. "Anything else?"

"High Inquisitor Lut Sar has also reached the city, Mayor!"

Gulzar stops reading by the mention of the title and name. His head slowly but stiffly rises and meets the stare of the messenger.

"You may leave..."

**
**
**

"General Amalia Lortik and Swordmaster Takeda Shingen is here to see you, Mayor!" A guard announces and opens the door as Gulzar responds "Let them in!"

"Greeting-..." Gulzar stops himself before he can give a proper welcome. Amalia enters with Takeda right behind her. Her hands are tied.

"What in the bloody hell is the meaning of this?!" The draken asks furiously.

"She disobeyed General Kirtin's orders, Mayor! She asked me to hide K'Jol – the famed warrior – from justice!" Takeda Shingen says.

"I see..." Gulzar replies.

"I need to speak to her alone. Leave us, Shingen."

"She is under my custody, Mayor! And..." Takeda retorts.

"She is in my city, Swordmaster! She is in my house! There are guards posted at every exit. And they listen to no one but General Kirtin! She won't escape." Gulzar roared. "Now! Leave!"

Takeda steps out. Swordmaster Shingen had been payed by old man Ganguly to train Gulzar in the art of combat years ago. It had not been a successful attempt. The young draken did simply not have the will to learn from him. Their relationship was not taking a turn for the better tonight.

"General Lortik. You look tired. Please sit down." Gulzar approaches her and guides her to a seat by a small round table. Then he pours her a glass of his finest drink – crystal clear water.

"How I wish you had not come back to witness Avarath in such a mess. Empty streets with no bartering or festivities. Citizens only come out to receive what rations we can give them...." He sits down too.

"These terrorists, they have turned us into bloody hermits, General!" Gulzar sips from his glass and stares into the wall before he looks back at her.

"The Avarath of now is soulless, Lortik."

He looks down and tickles with his glass as he continues. "You should be used to the feeling of living in such a dreadful place by now, how was Dorgrad?"

Amalia ignores his question. "How can you let them arrest K'Jol?! He is innocent!"

Gulzar smiles dejectedly and stares into the wall again.

"We're in a violent conflict. I do not know how to swing a sword or shoot with a bow. The longer the conflict goes on, the less power I have, the more Kirtin gains. He is a product of Zirako. He despises this city he has sworn to protect, General."

"I'm a people-pleaser. My job is to make sure that those with power of Kaustir tolerate my administation enough so they won't stage a coup against me. There are people in Zirako I need to please, General. And that is why K'Jol....the famous draken warrior....is now a wanted man."

**

While the Mayor is talking they can hear the noise of armour plates clanking from nocturne guards who are running down a street in the silence of the night.

"K'JOL – THE FAMOUS TRAITOR – HAS BEEN SPOTTED NEARBY! FIND HIM!"

"I know the limits of what I can do in these times of war, General. Compromises have to be made." Gulzar sets his water-glass on the table

"I suggest you play along and turn in your friend. You'll find it easier to be an influence here if you keep yourself out of prison."

 

[Obskeree]

A MINER MISPLACED

Theo tried to hide his alarm at the sound K'Jol made when he coughed. Ignoring the civilians wide-eyed gazes as best he could, Theo curled one of his front hooves to lower himself a bit for the draken.

"It's best you don't move much, then. Climb on and I'll carry you." He glanced behind at the maze of streets and thanked Nils silently for thinking to give the ring to Amalia. "I can take you to the First General... but I don't know how I'd find Arania."

Sparing one last look at the crowd, Theo took off once K'Jol was securely on his back, following his senses through the mazelike streets towards the ring, an Amalia, as quickly as he could. Strength and speed were coming in useful after all.

But just as he was beginning to feel useful, he got the distinct feeling something was wrong. He slowed down considerably when he began to note the increasing guard presence and shouts which sounded like calls to arms. He thought back to what K'Jol had said - he was a wanted man. They were frustratingly close - must have been the next building over - but Theo paused. In the end, he ducked into an alley.

"Things don't feel right. Can you reach my bag? There's a sheet in there from the Ipari... Try hiding yourself with it, and I'll carry on." It wasn't the best idea he had ever had, but at least it wasn't the worst.

 

[Asmodeus]

Avarath

The kidnappers arrived at midnight, steering the Veniokai mount to the eastern salt pans, where heaps of white powder formed an ever-shifting landscape. Amid this cover they dismounted the winged reptile. A conversation followed between Nassad and the handler, a jabbering dialect of clicks and murmurs. Then, instead of coin, the slaver handed the nomad his prize - an Ipari cloud-mask. No finer treasure for the waste-wanderers. The handler directed blessings to each of them, then yanked the reins and returned to the skies.

Nassad and Gwendolyn watched the Veniokai vanish, then hoisted backpacks and trudged between the salt hill and up the dunes that would take them to Avarath's walls.

"Couldn't we have landed closer?" Gwendolyn had fared well in the sun-blocked gloom of Dorgrad. But after passing the Northern Furnace and following the glass plains west, the heat had begun to tell. His diet of seeds could not sustain his patience.

"Sure. If you wanted every merchant in the city mobbing us to try and buy the Veniokai."

"You speak as if they're a luxury. That journey was like flying through my mother's shit."

"Avarathi merchants wouldn't care. It's a winged fucking dinosaur."

"And I'm hung like a tyrannosaur. But no one tries to buy me."

"I'm sure we can find you some boy-lovers in Avarath."

"Interesting circles you move in, Nassad. Nicely loosened, I trust?"

"I'll loosen your teeth, you flapping cunt."

The banter saw them safely across the dunes and to the east entrance. Half the night watch there knew Nassad and the other half recognised Gwendolyn from his glory days. They had little trouble slipping inside, and did so with a smattering of knowledge about current events. Amalia's convoy had entered the previous night and scattered into groups. The riots had simmered down following the execution of the prophet Zarathustra, and General Kirtin had put the Second Army on standby. Fires had decimated parts of the inner city and ravaged the historical districts where nocturnes were predominant. Small, isolated damage, but in areas of import. It was a shrewd move by the terrorists. Minimal effort, with high visibility results.

"What now?" asked Gwendolyn as they passed the charred remains of a tavern. People were going about their nightly routines with usual haste, setting up stalls on the streets when they could not enter the shut-down market squares. Those businesses not ruined or boarded up were being opened for the next day. Above certain doorways, in crude paint, messages were scrawled for wealthy customers. 'WE WELCOME OUR NOCTURNE BROTHERS!' , 'DEATH TO THE REBELS - OUVA STEAKS HALF PRICE!' , 'DRAKEN STILL WELCOME AT BULCHAND'S EMPORIUM!'. "Should we look for bull droppings?"

Nassad chewed his supper - a barbecued lizard on a stick. They were being sold in abundance in this part of the city, even in the bustling night. "General Lortik will have gone to the barracks, or to the mayor's. She'll want to be close to--"

A horde of children shot across the intersection of streets, knocking over stalls and batting hanging linens. They were yelling as they ran.

"K'JOL THE TRAITOR HAS BEEN SPOTTED IN THE CITY!"

Gwendolyn stood with Nassad at the street corner, and watched the ripples of youths and gossipers heading northward. "From the mouths of babes."

His fellow kidnapper tossed his supper away and ran a hand across the coiled whip on his belt. "Let's hunt."

 

[Zen]

Her hands were still bound. That was how Amalia knew she wasn't safe, no matter how much sympathy Gulzar tried to garner from her with his silky words. It was apparent to her that the Mayor had given up and was playing along with General Kirtin's plan for the sake of his city... And his own hide.

She twisted the rope that bound her hands, they weren't coming off. There was no way she could take Gulzar on her own, not with the many guards posted around his home. Her best bet was to persuade him to let her go.

"But K'jol is innocent," she murmured.

Amalia was silent, hoping that Gulzar would assume she was digesting his words and complying. Her shoulders slumped and she started crying in soft, pitiful hiccups. Somewhere in that well of exhaustion and grief, Amalia summoned up the tears to make her act convincing. She tried to wipe away the droplets with her bound hands.

"I don't... I'm trying my best Gulzar. Really I am. I'm trying to make everyone happy." She sniffled for effect. "But p-people are d-dying and I-I need to help them. Please l-let me help them."

 

[UltimaCircuit]

K'Jol nodded in response as he reached over for the bag on the centaur's side. He pulled the top open with his index finger before grabbing and swiftly pulling out the sheet. Almost instantaneously the famed warrior covered himself with the sheet and adjusting his bodily position so that he was laid across Theo's back. The famed warrior's hand moved up to the face of the centaur, giving a thumbs up before disappearing back into the shroud of the cloth. To the left of the alleyway entrance guards could be heard. K'Jol gritted his teeth together as he could hear the flurry of insults from the imbeciles.

"Why is he in running from the law? The FAMED WARRIOR should be happy! He is gaining more fame in Avarath than he ever would have before!"

"Yeah, you know what guys, I may become a traitor myself!"

"Maybe people will start caring about you for once!"

"Well, thanks A LOT for that.... prick...."

U'Sil let out an almost silent hiss as if she were retaliating back at the soldiers. A small grunt came from K'Jol as he pressed his hand against the wound deeper. Breathing was becoming harder. His lung had been severely injured from the attacker and he needed help fast. The group of soldiers walked past the entrance of the alley, too busy with their bickering to notice that Theo and himself were inside. As soon as he could not hear their clunky footsteps he quickly ordered Theo to move.

"Lets go..."

 

[MiNaGi]

Arania Velka - Avarath

[dash=magenta]Arania was surprised when they were suddenly attacked. Before she even managed to think about registering that she had to run, she felt a sharp pain to her back as a blade tore through the fabric of her dress and uncovered her back, also creating a shallow, but large gash where blood poured out.

Since she had decided to go with the Ipari, Arania had carried a knife around with her at all times. It had been almost ten years since she last wielded a such weapon. She had gone away from those kinds of things, and had only touched surgical blades.

But, in this very moment, as her hand made its way to her belt, a strange familiarity filled her body, and as her hand closed around the cold wood of the handle, she knew what she could do with this weapon in her hands.

As she drew the blade, it hit one of the attackers, making him fall to the ground, clenching his shoulder. There had been four of them, and Rakar had fought down one and was now fighting the other, and the last one came aiming at her. She threw the knife, and it embedded itself in his stomach, making him fall to the ground with a whimper.

Her eyes that had been gleaming with an almost crimson hue were now normal, and she realized that her back was uncovered. She grabbed her shawl in a hurry and covered her back, the fabric being soaked in blood where it touched the wound on her back.

It had finally returned to her.

The calmness in her hands, the disappearing of her fears and insecurities.

The cold moment of relaxation in a fight.

When the commotion was finally over, she glanced over to Rakar, her breathing slightly ragged from the amount of blood loss. She didn't seem to physically mind it as she stood up, clutching her shawl around herself.

"Rakar, we need to get going."

She didn't explain why she was covering herself. [/dash]

 

[Asmodeus]

Zirako

What if I told you, little Amalia, that the Czar was not a bad man?

What if I told you he was the best of men? And that everything he did was out of love?

Would you smile then as I whipped you? Shiver in sand and chase moonbeams in sunlight?

Would black and white change places, and make you colourblind?

Could you bear to hear it?

Would you dare believe it?

For fifty years the Black Tower had seen no trespass. It had but one defense. Memory.

Lukesh had passed the iron doorway. He took the first step down, on the obsidian spiral. And there he suffered.

I have simply wanted an object to crave.​

A moon of glass. A flower black and mountainous. When his feet came back bloody stumps he crawled instead. Hands in the glass forest. Taken, piece by piece.​

Uninvited.​

His hand lashed out, held the wall. The stone there was the same. It rippled to his touch. It cringed to feel him. The next step burned as he moved into the shadow of the staircase.

Must be heartening, to watch shepherd meet shepherd.​

An erasing ocean, rolling onto shapes. Silhouettes of salt collapsed, taken by the tides. On red horizon was the shadow play. The giants crashing, like pieces of the sky.​

You're not allowed.​

Sweat broke out, a thin and sickly plasma coating brow and neck. He took the next step down and found his stomach heaving. He slumped. He vomited. The blood did not show on obsidian. The blackness swallowed all. Lukesh hauled himself up again and peered into the spiral, seeing further darkness.

You speak of my love, like you have experienced love like mine before.​

A place to rest awhile. On the riverbank, cut by fissure. A dozen layers of skull and bone, the generations heaped in mud. Tidied horror. Lay awhile there, body hung from bank to brackish, an angel fallen.​

An unfortunate slight.​

The fourth step was ice, shooting cold through bone and groin. The silence howled. In the stairway's every polished surface his caved-in reflection. A ghoul sucking flesh into itself. Cavities of darkness. He felt the Black Tower's hatred, its singular will to constrict and expel him, a peristaltic denial. He was not welcome here. Perception tilted. The spiral was turning.

Behind him his lion, Aukhmos, was a spastic shade of him. The aux's limbs were shriveled, its body warped and caving. No colours now, only monochrome, and the flesh sloughed back from eyes and teeth. A hideous soul that shambled after him, decomposing with each second.

He reached the fifth step and fell. Lukesh crashed down another seven obsidian blocks and landed in contorted silence. His heart was thrashing from its cage, and found mirrored pace in the lungs, which bloomed and billowed shred-like breaths. He was blood-soaked, sweating gore.

I need a moment... to deliberate.​

Another shockwave. Purple snakes ripping open, spilling maggots through the sky. The mountains moved like stretching limbs. The glass flower bleeds its juices. He wakes by the river, and in the mud he finds it.​

Uninvited.​

Aukhmos placed a paw on his chest, another on his ribs. The Aux crawled atop him. As pain came flooding the lion moved in silence, and brought its skull above Lukesh. Its face had melted, falling back from bone-like stalks of eyes and a sagging, tumescent tongue. He screamed.

He screams.​

* * * * *​

"Korsch."

On waking he had watched his slave for long moments. With each tuck of the covers and mop of the brow, Korsch's dark skin was painted in lamplight. A memory of the obsidian spiral - the Black Tower's parting insult. When at last the Czar spoke, it was to find his voice sand-dry and bloody.

Korsch turned from the bed and watched the iron doorway. Aukhmos was coming up, returning to his crux as it stirred to waking. With soft padding the lion emerged from shadow and crossed to Lukesh, rearing up to let its head be cradled.

"How far?" the Czar asked as he pressed his cheek to Aukhmos.

"The twelfth step, Des'Sun." The low rumble of the slave's voice lent weight to reality. It was a comfort.

"Only four dozen left to go."

Korsch closed the door of the iron gateway, muscles flexing as he lowered a bar and turned the seven keys. The intricate designs on the oak barrier matched the tattoos on Lukesh's back. It was all that kept the Black Tower's rage at bay.

"Tell me, Korsch. How is it that you find me each time, and drag me back?" He watched the slave while stroking Aukhmos, long and ponderous caresses that brought the color back to each of them.

Korsch folded up the bloodied silks and moved a washbowl closer. He sat again to mop his master's brow. His common tongue was stilted and slow. "You told me I was Korsch, and that he who was before is no longer. The Des'Sun commands. I have no memory for the Tower to take."

A rare smile came to the Red Emperor. "I would you were the Czar. And I, a desert nomad."

With grace the slave accepted that the nuance would be lost. Having cleaned the nocturne's face he stood and moved for the chamber door, bowl and silks in bundle. "Are you ready for them, Des'Sun?"

Lukesh nodded and laid his head upon the pillow. His eyes fluttered closed, to hear the slave's departure and suffer one more time the vision of the spiral. Dreams of blackness, deep and shimmering, falling waist deep. How little he knew that his counterpart in Viridos endured the same. Aukhmos slipped away and curled beneath the bed, while other weights came upon it.

One hand touched his lips; another his groin. He opened eyes to see two women crawling over bedsheets.

A half-draken, lizard eyes dilated, found him ready and slipped herself atop him. A slight gyration as she found the perfect spot. "You've been gone too long, my lord." She gripped his jaw hard. Those of the Imperial Harem were trained to his likes. A second honour guard, should he need it. There was no simpering.

The second, a nocturne, hair cut short for ease of feeding, ran a dagger up his side. "Did you forget us, for your Avarathi virgins?"

The rigours of the Tower had whetted him. Adrenaline flowed out; desire flowed in. And the hunger. Those twelve steps had brought him to voracity. He bridged his hands between their breasts, dark skin to light, half-scale to leather. He lifted his hips and the draken gasped as she rose upon him.

"Stop talking."

The nocturne brought the dagger to her side, slicing low along the rib-line, beneath the bosom swell. Her blood ran out, red upon the black... gore upon obsidian.

Lukesh hesitated as she brought her body across him. Memory stung again. The iron door loomed behind the shoulder of the arching draken.

He closed his eyes. He licked. He drank.

He tried and tried again... to forget.

 

[Tegan]

"I have a disappearing trick to teach you, Nu." The nocturne said to his fledgling bodyguard "You can play my lovely assistant."

Lut Sar took the saw from Nu ("Don't blink!") and relieved the prisoner of his fingers. Nu fainted.

Ten years later

Nu had placed a thick rope between Bracht's teeth and knotted the ends behind his head. Victims of Il Mago would often try to bite through the rope, through their tongue and bleed to death before the magic trick was over. His blonde hair was slick with sweat, his eyes wide as he looked into Nu's.

Then he couldn't stop screaming.

"Lovely assistant," Lut Sar brought his bloody fingers to his lips, before he wiggled the digits at Nu, playfully. "A little assistance?"

His bodyguard moved behind him, removing the leather apron he wore over his clothing. He licked his fingers and hands clean while she worked, unrolling his shirtsleeves and replacing the cufflinks. Then into his coat. Nu buttoned each button up to his throat.

Arania and Rakar

Arania took two steps forward before she stumbled and her frame collapsed. Rakar rushed forward to catch her. There was blood on her shawl, blood on the street.
"Your back."

"It's nothing, I'll make it." She wasn't speaking to assuage his fears, but her own. The hunger was rising, a hot pain twisting in her guts, in her brain. Her mouth began to water, her fangs were elongated. How long had it been since she had fed? How much blood had she just lost? How much blood was she going to have to drink?

Rakar leaned forward, hefting the girl over his shoulder, so that he could keep his right hand free.

The public slaying of five nocturnes did not go unnoticed. Arania's shop was in a full blaze, black smoke billowing from. There were people in the streets screaming, calling for water and dirt.

Others, children and women, all nocturne, fell upon the five slain in the street, cradling the remains of their husbands-sons-brothers. Tensions had been high in the streets; lootings, riots, disappearances. The city watch was stretched thin, many of the citizens had taken it upon themselves to protect their homes and families. Rakar realized then that these nocturnes had not been the enemy.

They were.

There were those who fought the growing blaze. Those who mourned. Then those who advanced upon the draken, holding a bleeding nocturne girl, the owner of the store he had burned. There was vengeance in their eyes. And there were too many of them for him to fight.

Theo and K'Jol

The word spread by mouth, through the streets, homes, bordellos, markets, gambling halls, theatres—K'Jol the traitor was in Avarath. And just like that, everyone was searching.

K'Jol wheezed, there was a sharp pain inside of his chest, and every time he tried to breathe, air would enter and escape through his open wound. Hot blood trickled K'Jol's armor, then down Theo's leg. He wouldn't last long without a healer.

And a bull anima is a hard thing to miss. Especially with a massive, cloaked bleeding rider.

Theo was almost relieved when it was the Merchant's Militia who apprehended them in the street and not a mob of vengeful citizens. At least in their custody, the odds of being lynched on the spot were minimized.

Theo dared not move as the armored Avarathi guard surrounded him, halberds poised to rend. Theo raised his arms in surrender. If he could, he would have waved the white sheet K'Jol now wore like a flag.

The Captain of the Militia, a draken with dune-colored scales stepped forward."Identify yourself, anima."

Theo kept his arms raised. "I am Theophrastus Maladas."

The captain raised his head higher, allowing his long tongue to dart out, tasting the air. The draken blinked. "You've got the stink of Dorgrad on you. That's a long way away."

"I was relieved of my station. The First General Lortik can vouch my claim. And for K'Jol's innocence."

"The First General, you say?" The captain barked, tasting the air again. "The First General is being detained under suspicion of treason. Something to do with aiding enemies of the state."

"I'm placing you both under arrest."

Theo did not resist as the soldiers drew nearer, some drew the manacles swaying from their belts. "He is wounded, he needs a healer."

"I'm sure General Lortik would be happy to tend to him from their cell."

The Market Square

Lut leaned over the tortured form of Bracht, his ear pressed close the thief's whispering lips. Nu could not hear what he confessed, her mouth had gone dry and the basement room was suddenly too hot. Her part in the game was over, so she left to check the perimeter. The night air would cool her skin.

The cramped market outside was still bustling, in spite of the riots and men being mutilated in basements. Though wounded and bleeding, the heart of Avarath still beats. A wheeled cart, bedecked with all manner of mirrors, reflect the light of the lanterns, casting shapes and shadows across the square.

Drawn in by the light, Nu approached the stand and the girl behind it. The girl was ruddy, red curls spiral from her crown like a flame in a furnace.

"Water." Nu croaked, drawing out crude iron shrapnel from her cloak. Small coin. "Do you have some?"

 

[DotCom]

Shae - Avarath, darkred

[dash=darkorange]"Water. Do you have some?"

Shae said nothing, her tongue having gone dead and heavy as iron in her mouth, only just allowing her to breathe. A hand dropped to her side, leaden, and unfastened the water skin tied there.

She held it out to the girl.

She did not take the coin.

She watched as the girl drank, beads of water spilling over her chin, down her neck. She looked away quickly, heating rising from the cart to flush her skin.

She whistled once, short and sharp, and Vitro angled dagger wings to land on her shoulder. She brushed the pad of her thumb along his tail. He bit; she bled.

This was no dream.

"I know you," she blurted suddenly as Ombre wound close around her neck in agony and excitement. "I've seen you." She held out her hand, perhaps for the coin, perhaps not. "I can show you more."

The girl hesitated, then reached out to drop the coin in Shae's waiting palm. Quick as a flash, Shae had drawn a shard of blown glass across the girl's hand, smearing the resultant streak of crimson across the flawless surface of a mirror she had made only yesterday.

Shae watched the scene unfold through a veil of blood.

Candle's Dreamings

Through the dark, she saw the shadow of his wings again. She had known she would. She did not know who he was, or what he meant to the girl, but she had never believed in coincidence, and she had never seen the same target thrice in a mirror.

Only once before had she ever seen the mirror's target stand before her. It had not boded well then, either.

The scene had not changed much. Dark coils of smoke wound their way around hands and feet, ethereal bonds that burned with an infernal flame.

The fire burned cold.

The Avian threw back his head in a wordless scream and Shae backed away, sensing she had made a very grave mistake. Her back came against something slick. Furry.

She tried to scream, too, and found she could not.

The mirror struck the ground between their feet and erupted into glistening oblivion. Behind her, the fire she had stoked was dying. Ombre hung in limp coils about her neck.

Shae reached out and took her water back. She rinsed her mouth and spat.

Never once did her eyes leave the girl.

"You would do better to run," she said.

Better than what, she could not guess, and did not want to know.
[/dash]

 

[unanun]

In a dim and dark and bloody basement ...

"Bracht."

"BRACHT."

"Sun above Bracht, shut up!" Lut pinched the Warden's son's lips shut forcefully, breaking him out of vocal shit he was taking from memory. Tablet .. found in desert .. finder's fee .. K'Larr ..

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Tell me something I don't know." Bracht's eyes rolled around in his skull - he didn't know what he knew, his mind raced, raced and he tried to wiggle his toes but he couldn't ...

"Since when did men cry this much? You're going to get a false foot anyways. What's wrong with you?"

"... -ult."

"Eh?" Lut heard the whole thing, but theatrics were important. The Czar taught him that. "Speak up!" He leaned closer, closer to his lips.

"Turbatus. They worship the Queen .. Mother, Matriarch, I don't know she nests in Dorg .. raaad .. " They gave him too much narcotics. Well, everyone starts off new to the sensation of being carefully sliced. "Aaaaaaaaaa szide business, make some coin on the s-s-s-side."

The words flowed a little freer now. "I started doing odd jobs for K'Larr." His throat twitched as he gulped. "They didn't like .. wanted to be untraceable .. proper merchant like K'Larr would have records, friends of a friend, payments of a payment, you know."

"K'Larr offered me a better solution. Get the Zirako brass to pay a visit to Dorgrad."

"Bracht." His eyes whizzed back to Lut's, sweat forming anew on his brow. "Who did you deal with?" A deadly whisper.

"Avian. Black wings.

Knox."

Lut slammed the butcher knife into the anvil with such force, the metal flowered out in strips from the point of impact. His arm vibrated, ears ringing, vision red.

Nocturnes, so they say, live a very long time. Humans can never confirm if they do or not (perhaps an exceptional Draken could), because they die, leaving behind unreliable records. Between one human's life and the next, the Nocturne flits like an everlasting dream, a whisper on songs and a passing mention on paper, a constant backdrop in front of which humans endlessly carry out (and sometimes repeat) their dramas. What little surprise it is that a Nocturne fundamentally thinks differently from a human. Things that matter to Nocturnes are too large in scope to be comprehended by humans, and the things humans value are too fleeting, too bright, for a Nocturne to grasp.

Which is why Nu's obsessive pursuit of revenge angered Lut. The backstab, the grudge, the politics, the murder .. a Nocturne commits these 'crimes', knowing that their significance pales in comparison to their fruits decades later. But Humans sit on the hot ashes and nurse the pain, channeling it and wasting their lives on such insignificant insults. Lut taught her to be self-reliant as a means of redemption (for her), to be able to move beyond the things that happened to her. So she lost her civilization. Did it matter? A Nocturne could experience such a thing ten-fold in his (never-ending) life.

He taught and taught and taught. Her (to him) insipid, short-sighted, and dense refusal to internalize anything infuriated him.

He strode towards the stairs.

"Nuuuuuuuu uuuuuuuuuuuu UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU UUUUUUUUUUU!!!!"

 

[Tone 6th]

The door closed behind him and Takeda just stood their staring down the hallway that lead to the office. "Are you alright sir?" the guard posted at the door asked. Takeda cleared his throat "Yes I uh... I need to report back to the barracks." he trailed off. The slow paced clicking of his boots on the stone floor echoed off the walls. "Have I really done the right thing? Amalia was.... is my student and friend and I just turned her in at the drop of a hat. Why? Because I am a loyal servant of the nation." his moral compass was spiraling out of control. Who is a warrior more loyal to his friends or the nation he serves? Takeda arrived at the barracks and just stood outside the doors, the guards exchanged odd glances "Sir?" one of them approached. The swordsman snapped back to reality and gave a fake smile "As you were." he said calmly.

He entered the building the smell of death stung his nose. "I am a solider first and a friend second. To betray my nation is to betray my friends. If they want to aid a possible criminal then so be it. If I can not convince them with words then they will feel my blade." Takeda reasoned. "To cross the nation is to cross me." he clenched the hilt of his sword, "Amalia I will fight you if I have to." he whispered. No more fear. No more dishonorable actions. Takeda chose his side.

He walked up to General Kirtin "Imperial solider Takeda Shingen reporting sir. I might know of two other individuals in league with General Lortik."

"Well out with it then." the General put down a form he was reading.

Takeda gulped and his voice was horse "Again sir as of now I do not know the course of action they will take, but under the influence of General Lortik I'm afraid they may have fallen pray to the misguided path."

"Damn it Takeda I have no time for your wishy washy feelings now tell me who they are!" he roared.

His voice still horse "The healer A Arania Velka." he gulped again. Takeda had never had this much lack of composure in his life "And the soldier Rakar Koden."

"Very well I will send a party after them..." the General was cut off.

"No sir I would like to request apprehending them myself. They trust me so I can lure them out." Takeda fired the question like an arrow from a bow.

Kirtin looked him up and down with narrowed eyes "Very well, request approved. Dismissed."

"Thank you sir!" Takeda bowed

The swords master left the barracks as fast as his feet could carry him.

 

[Kino]

The situation was quickly spiraling further and further out of control. The attack was bad enough, but the aftermath was proving to be far worse. Rakar didn't realize it at the time. The sight of a Draken setting fire to a building. He picked the worst possible time for that. Now at least two of the five Nocturnes who attacked them were dead, and at least two more were severely injured, and would possibly die soon too if they didn't get medical attention.

There was no time for that though. Dozens of other Nocturnes were quickly starting to gather. Not one of them looked understanding, and more than a few had weapons. Rakar wanted to explain himself, to explain that it was a misunderstanding, that they had attacked first before he could explain that he wasn't a rebel, and that the shop he burned down belonged to Arania, the Nocturne with him who wanted him to do it. But just thinking about it made it sound unbelievable. Even if no one had been harmed, he doubted anyone would believe the truth.

He could feel the blood soaking through the cloth on Arania's back and onto his hand, and he had seen her elongated fangs moments before picking her up. He knew what was happening. You don't live around Nocturnes for most of your life and not learn to recognize the signs their thirst.

There was only one option then, and Rakar didn't like it, but it was the only way to prevent further bloodshed. Arania on his left shoulder, Coros on his right, the Draken lowered the visor on his helmet, grabbed the bag of medicine, turned, and ran. Several of the gathering Nocturnes gave chase, but he luckily had a few seconds head start. His muscles were flexed as much as possible, weighed down by so much. Everything about this situation was working against him.

They were gaining, refusing to allow what they believed was a rebel Draken kidnapping an injured Nocturne get away. Rakar's mind was working fast, and unfortunately for the second time tonight, the only solution he could come up with was one that would only make more enemies. He turned down another street, heading right for the market. Fortunately, due to the large Nocturne population in the city, the market streets were always crowded, day and night. It was the perfect chance to get away.

Coros sank into Rakar, and his body glowed a feint gold for a moment, activating his advent Take the Hill. At the same time, he took the sack from his right hand to his left, grabbed Arania and shifted her over to his right shoulder, then held the shield on his left forearm in front of him just in time to meet the crowd. Bursts of magical force erupted from his shield, sending civilians in his path flying several feet. He had to use more focus and power than normal to make sure that everyone was knocked away before making contact with his spiked shield, allowing him to plow through the crowd at full speed without seriously injuring anyone.

Body after body was shoved aside as he ran, the crowd gathering in his wake to see what was happening. The few Nocturnes that had been chasing him soon lost sight of their target in the crowd, having tripped over or run into others in he crowd. Shortly before his advent was about to come to an end, Rakar turned down another street and kept running, further, making it out of the crowd. Coros emerged and took his spot on Rakar's shoulder as Rakar turned into a narrow alleyway, and went about halfway down it before coming to a stop.

The hulking Draken was breathing heavily and struggled to set Arania down gently. After dropping the sack of medicine next to him, Rakar dropped to his knees panting, and removed the shield from his arm. Coros fell to the ground as well, barely managing to land on his feet. Not only did he just run across nearly half the city, or so it felt at least, he had used an advent, and poured more power into it than he ever had before just to make sure no one was seriously injured from it. He was all but spent. He could not afford to collapse right now, there was still more to be done.

The first thing was to dress Arania's wound. She was in no condition to do it herself. Then again, neither was he at this point, but someone had to. Arania was nearly trembling at this point, more from her thirst than from blood loss. He could see it in her eyes, she was doing her best to control it.

They did not share words. They didn't need to. Body language was enough for them. It suited them better this way. Speech often got in the way of things. After rummaging through the supplies they had gathered, Rakar found bandages and a vial of alcohol. He was no healer, but being a soldier, he at least knew how to dress minor wounds. However, Arania was resistant. For some reason, she kept her back to the wall, not wanting for him to look. Rakar found it a bit odd. Perhaps she was embarrassed for him to see her naked back? Whatever the reason, Rakar decided not to press the issue.

He looked her sternly in the eyes, then leaned her forward a bit to expose her back from the wall. Without taking his gaze from hers, Rakar reached behind her, removed the shawl from it, then gently felt for the wound. He found it quickly, having seen before the area where she had been hit, and knew he found it when Arania winced. By that point, she was looking hungrily at him, face to face, still fighting the urge to feed. The urge went away momentarily as the alcohol was poured onto the wound, causing a surge of pain to shoot through her. Rakar quickly covered her mouth with his free hand, muffling her screams. In her thirst, she had been unprepared for the sting.

Afterwards, he wrapped bandages around her torso to cover the wound. Her thirst quickly returned, the need in her eyes growing more and more urgent. She found it difficult to keep her hands still. They kept fidgeting, wanting to grab something and feed. Rakar pulled the shawl around her again, as she protested going uncovered. Arania needed blood to feed on. Unfortunately, going to the market to find a blood vendor was currently out of the question. So, Rakar sat next to her and removed his left gauntlet and arm guards. Taking hold of his sword, he sliced open the tough hide on the underside of his forearm, causing blood to flow. The sight of it was nearly enough to send Arania over the edge. It took everything she had not to lunge for him. It wasn't until Rakar moved his arm to her lips that she allowed herself to indulge.

The experience was both painful and enlightening for Rakar. He had never witnessed a Nocturne feed from a living person up close, much less been the one they were feeding upon. There was a time when Rakar detested her kind, almost to the same degree as the rebels, yet here he was, allowing one to drink his blood. He watched her curiously, as did Coros, while she did her best to avert her eyes from him. She drank for several minutes, before his hide began to naturally repair itself. And good thing too, as much longer and he would have started to get light headed. He was exhausted enough as it was.

She was still thirsty, but her lust had been sated for now. It would have to do. While Rakar put his armor back on his arm after the skin sealed up, Arania wiped the blood from her mouth and onto her shawl, since it was ruined anyways, and they sat there in silence. She looked away from him, refusing to meet his gaze. Rakar did his best to rest, while fighting off sleep. It took a few minutes before the silence was broken by her soft voice, almost a whisper.

"Thank you..."

His reply came in the form of taking her hand with his, and holding it loosely. He was too tired to do anything more.

 

[Tone 6th]

*Tap* *Tap* Tap* Takeda's boots left trails of dust as he dashed around the city, trying to find Rakar "Damn it Rakar where did you go!" he growled. He darted from street to alley looking for the Draken. Panting and huffing the swordsman found himself approaching the market. The dull roar screams could be heard from one end of the market. The screams grew louder as Takeda made his way down the street, he could see the crowd. Just as he reached the end of the street when a fully armor, blood soaked, Darken carrying a woman came charging through the market knocking over civilians left and right. Takeda stopped dead in his tracks... "Rakar?" he blinked. "Rakar!" he shouted pushing people out of the way. Takeda tried to keep Rakar in view, but he was moving so fast. He managed to just see the way Rakar turned. "Out of my way!" Takeda ordered shoving people aside.

"No stop. Rakar would not have been running through a crowd of people if something wasn't wrong." Takeda slowed his pace through the market, his eyes darted to his peripheral vision making sure one else was following. The moans of knocked down townsfolk filled his ears. "Better make sure to not draw attention." it went against what his body was telling him, but he began to move with the crowd. The night air was heavy and humid and his body ached for rest. Takeda move to various stalls in the area, making small talk with the vendors and merchants, but kept an eye the alley way he saw Rakar dart into. The shinning moon did not smile on the swordsman tonight, his memory kept repeating Amalia's arrest over and over. He continued to brows the wears the market had to offer. After several minuets Takeda began to move slowly toward the alley, keeping an eye out for anyone suspicious. He gave one final look down the street then entered the alley.

Rays of light from the market lamps danced upon the shaded walls of the alleyway. Takeda's eyes adjusted to the darkness in the alley, and began rapidly searching for Rakar. "Rakar?" he said in a low quiet tone. His pace of walking stayed the same as he tried to feel his way through the area. *Thunk* his foot hit something heavy. Takeda bent down to feel what it was. The object was smooth and cold to the touch, metal. He reached down to pick it up, and brought it close to his face... it was a helmet. The swordsman's eyes finally adjusted to the lack of light and what he saw before him made a chill run up his spine. "Rakar? By the sun what happened to you?" he reached and grabbed for his armor. His hand landed in something wet and sticky. He brought the liquid to his nose and smelled it, it smelled of iron...blood. "Why are you covered in blood?" his mind began to panic a little.

 

[UltimaCircuit]

The taste of blood...

K'Jol shook his head, watching the environment around him shake in his vision. He closed his eyes hard, taking in a deep breath of air before releasing it out of his mouth and his chest. His eyes refocused when he opened them. Darkness was all around except for a candle propped up on the wall. His eyes trailed down to his hands to see that they were bound to the floor by steel chains. A cool sensation made him shudder as turned back to see his feet, his steel boots now gone. His breastplate was missing as well. A loud sigh came from the Draken, making him wince in pain once more as more air came from the wound within his chest. The now restrained warrior looked to the ceiling, attempting to recall the events that had transpired before his arrival in the unfamiliar place.

"Where... where am I. We arrived, and then I went to the coliseum entrance... Theo... THEO!"

Enraged, he flexed his biceps as he pulled upward his with hands, attempting to rip himself from the restraint. It was no use. A low growl formed deep within his throat before turning into a large snarl as he pulled upward once again, hoping that the result of this effort would be positive. Again, they did not budge. A snapping sound was made, activating an ominous gust of wind that blew throughout the cellar. More candles appeared on the walls, lighting themselves effortlessly.

"What the fuck is going on..."

Instantly the back of a hand slapped him across the face, forcing his head to fly to the side. K'Jol grunted before looking up to the shrouded figure. His attire was the same of a Wraith under Lut Sar, everything except for the mask at least. The pale face that looked down upon him was scarred beyond belief. The eyelids of the man were stretched far beyond what they were supposed to. The mouth was mutilated to the point where his lips were barely visible.

"What the hell happ-"

Another slap across the face, causing K'Jol's head to fly in the opposite direction that it was sent before.

"I DO THE TALKING FOOL! LOOK AT MY FACE. LOOK AT WHAT YOUR DISGUSTING PEOPLE DID TO ME, AND YOU INSTIGATED IT ALL. WHY?"

"What the fuck do you mean! I have nothing to do with those who burned down the buildings in the city!"

"LIAR! EVERYONE KNOWS OF YOUR REPUTATION! YOU MUST HAVE AN INSIDE MAN WHO INSTIGATED THESE EVENTS!"

"FUCK YOU!"

Almost right after his last vulgar sentence the man with the destroyed face cracked a spiked whip.

"What are you-"

A kick was sent into the underside of his jaw, causing the Draken's head to fly up. When his head came back down the man was gone from sight. Fingers traced the scars in his back, causing him growl.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!"

A laugh.

"...Nothing you can do now. You will be disciplined until your words give truth!"

The whip was raised and sent into his back, just like all those years before. A loud yell rang throughout the house.

"S-Stop!"

A second lashing. A third. A fourth. The flurry of lashings continued, sending the once great warrior into a destroyed state of mind. The trauma of his past life began to come back.