One truth he had learned over the years was that nothing compared to the power of imagination. All mortals possessed a natural fear of the unknown, and by playing upon this fear was far more effective than anything he could do with a knife. All he had to do was give them reason to fear the shadows, and their minds did the rest. What horrors lurked in the darkness? What terrifying fate was in store for them? It was fascinating to watch his specimens drive themselves mad with these questions. And when the time finally came to deliver, he did his best to ensure that their fates far exceeded their expectations.
It was time for Shim to know this terror. Once he planted the seeds of doubt and fear, it was only a matter of time before the town turned against itself. Friends would become distant, neighbors would turn against one another, and families would fall apart. Only when they destroyed themselves out of their own paranoia would he rise up and show them there really was a monster lurking in the shadows. But until then, he would simply give them the rope to hang themselves.
Vanyusha stood outside of a small medicine shop on the edge of town. It was late at night, so breaking in unnoticed would not be difficult. Completing the mission without arousing too much suspicion, however, was another story. According to his master, the owner was a skilled fighter; and even though Vanyusha trusted that Syrathan could take him, a racket could easily wake up neighbors and prompt an investigation. If they wanted to avoid making their involvement obvious, they needed to act as swiftly and cleanly as possible.
"Syrathan," he began, glancing over his shoulder at his assistant, "the first phase of this experiment, while small, will be memorable. Our specimens will be the proprietor of this establishment - a muscular fighter in his late thirties - and his wife and daughter. The first phase will proceed by the book: We subdue the husband and make him watch as we torture his wife in front of them. We want to avoid making too much noise, so we will either gag them or remove their tongues, depending on what the situation calls for. Their baby daughter, however, is to remain unharmed in her room."
He stepped forward and placed his hand on the doorkob. "The goal is to subdue the parents before they can attract any attention. You may do as you wish to the wife afterward. Once you've had your fun, we take the toddler from the room and set her on fire in front of the mother. We then set the rest of the house on fire and place the child's burnt husk outside the flaming building. Our objective tonight is to foster suspicion. We'll make it seem like it was a simple fire, but the fact that the daughter's body was outside the front door will raise questions. Did the poor thing manage to crawl out through the flames, or did someone leave the body there as a message? And if so, who? Perhaps a business competitor, a former lover, a family member -- the list goes on. We cannot let them know outsiders were responsible if this experiment is to be effective."
The wraith began to turn the knob, then paused and looked back at Syrathan. He had been so enthralled by his experiment that he had forgotten his own obligations to his master. "Of course, before we do any of that, there are several poisonous herbs that we must gather from his storeroom. They're normally very difficult to obtain, and my sponsor has asked for them in exchange for his assistance. If you feel confident enough, you can take on the family yourself while I gather the materials, but that is your decision. Do you have any questions?"
Shadows of the Mind
Re: Shadows of the Mind
"Are they all in one room?" he asked in a hushed, hoarse whisper. "If not, I can take one room at a time, silently, but if they are all in one area, I might need your assistance. In the latter case, I would kill-" he stopped himself, remembering his benefactor's love of live torture- "subdue the two adults, likely the man first, while you make sure the child is secure." He stopped to think of anything else. "Also, I do not think I shall have any desire for the wife of our lovely friend. You may do to her as you will. All I ask is for silence; I do not wish to be caught in our act. Silly humans."
Re: Shadows of the Mind
"According to the information I've received from my accomplice, they are in separate rooms; the adults in one, the child in the other. Bear in mind this isn't accounting for any unknowns, such as the infant sleeping with the parents because of an illness. In fact, it would be better if you went to the storeroom with me instead of continuing on your own; I do not doubt your abilities, but it is always better to err on the side of caution. We cannot afford any mistakes."
Vanyusha opened the door and stepped inside. He stood in the darkness for a few moments, listening carefully for any movement in the distance. It took a few moments before he was convinced that the family was sound asleep in their beds. He walked behind the counter and made his way down a small staircase, heading into the storeroom. Moonlight poured into the room through a small barred window on the wall across from them, revealing several shelves stocked with various potions and herbs. A large lockbox sat on a desk to their right, no doubt containing the store's weekly earnings. While bishani may have interested a simple bandit, it did not concern him; this theft was merely a formality before they could take care of business.
He began perusing the shelves for the materials. "If anything catches your eye, feel free to take it. There may be some poisons you may use to coat your weapons," he told Syrathan.
After a few moments of searching, he came upon a small jar filled with bright green leaves that matched his master's description. From what he recalled, his master had struck an arrangement with this store's owner: in exchange for a considerable under-the-table loan, the owner had to provide his master with numerous poisonous and highly illegal herbs for black market trading. The shopkeeper backed out at the last moment due to a crisis of conscience, and his master didn't take kindly to it. The exact nature of the dispute didn't concern Vanyusha, but he hoped that he would be able to use these as a poison the next time his presence was requested for disciplinarian work. A knife coated with poison made his target's screams that much more delicious, and these herbs looked quite potent.
"Now, on to business," Vanyusha said as he pocketed the herbs and headed back up the stairs. "We shall scout the bedrooms upstairs, then continue on with the plan as discussed. You are certain you will not need assistance with the parents, provided they are indeed alone? I'd prefer for them to remain conscious for the child's immolation, particularly the mother; but if they must be knocked out to prevent noise, then so be it."
Vanyusha opened the door and stepped inside. He stood in the darkness for a few moments, listening carefully for any movement in the distance. It took a few moments before he was convinced that the family was sound asleep in their beds. He walked behind the counter and made his way down a small staircase, heading into the storeroom. Moonlight poured into the room through a small barred window on the wall across from them, revealing several shelves stocked with various potions and herbs. A large lockbox sat on a desk to their right, no doubt containing the store's weekly earnings. While bishani may have interested a simple bandit, it did not concern him; this theft was merely a formality before they could take care of business.
He began perusing the shelves for the materials. "If anything catches your eye, feel free to take it. There may be some poisons you may use to coat your weapons," he told Syrathan.
After a few moments of searching, he came upon a small jar filled with bright green leaves that matched his master's description. From what he recalled, his master had struck an arrangement with this store's owner: in exchange for a considerable under-the-table loan, the owner had to provide his master with numerous poisonous and highly illegal herbs for black market trading. The shopkeeper backed out at the last moment due to a crisis of conscience, and his master didn't take kindly to it. The exact nature of the dispute didn't concern Vanyusha, but he hoped that he would be able to use these as a poison the next time his presence was requested for disciplinarian work. A knife coated with poison made his target's screams that much more delicious, and these herbs looked quite potent.
"Now, on to business," Vanyusha said as he pocketed the herbs and headed back up the stairs. "We shall scout the bedrooms upstairs, then continue on with the plan as discussed. You are certain you will not need assistance with the parents, provided they are indeed alone? I'd prefer for them to remain conscious for the child's immolation, particularly the mother; but if they must be knocked out to prevent noise, then so be it."
Re: Shadows of the Mind
In fact, Syrathan had already spotted what he was looking for. It was sitting loose on the table; he knew that anyone with black market herbs would have at least some, but he didn't think it would be in plain sight. The leaves of this particular plant were valued by bounty hunters and assassins specifically because of its muscle-disabling effects. Within a minute of insertion into the bloodstream, the victim would be paralyzed from the neck down. The effect would wear off after a few days, but permanent damage to the tissue was common, especially among children or those with a preexisting condition.
Growers bred the plant carefully to ensure that its effects were not altered, and tested product regularly for its three trademarks of quick disabling, complete paralysis, and, arguably the most important, the ability of the poison to stay away from the brain and all vital tissue. The half-elf knew that there was a distinct difference between the high-quality, professional variety and the poorer, less effective product that would either fail to work or cause brain damage and death. The highest quality variation would even cause the lungs distress, causing shortness of breath. Of course, this would prevent any screaming or verbal resistance while still keeping enough oxygen flowing to keep consciousness.
Syrathan chuckled softly when he saw the soft blue accenting on the tips of the leaves, barely standing out from the rich, deep green. This was professional-grade poison material, and he knew exactly how to apply it to his dirk. He nodded to Vanyusha in confirmation of any wondering that the wraith might have, his smile disappearing as he began work. He grabbed a nearby mortar and pestle and began to crush a handful of the herbs.
The poison was extracted with practiced efficiency. When the herbs were crushed sufficiently, he took a gloved hand and scooped some of the resulting half-solid into his fingers, and rubbed it on the flat of his blade so that the poison extract separated from the pulp. He set the refuse on the table carelessly and poured what little of the liquid remained straight onto the dagger.
His work finished, Syrathan returned up the stairs, careful not to let any of the poison drip onto him. While it coated the blade, he did not take the time to let the excess come off. All the better to apply it to a pair of persons. Otherwise, I might not be ensured of the poison's effectiveness on both the pig and his slut wife.
Trusting Vanyusha to his own task, Syrathan crept into the room his taskmaster had indicated held the targets. Surely enough, a pair of filthy, revolting humans wallowed in their own filth. A shudder ran through the half-elf, feeling a strong impulse to wash himself. The very air felt tainted. I must cleanse it.
He approached the man first, both because he expected more resistance and he was the more filthy of the two. Of course, that is from my vantage point. I am sure that the woman has all manner of...diseases. Pushing the thoughts violently out of his mind, Syrathan focused completely on the task at hand. He chose a point on the man's body based on three factors: position of sleep, lack of fatality, and speed of spreading the poison through the bloodstream.He chose a spot on the oblique abdominals, close enough to major veins to facilitate spreading, but nonlethal for the moment. It would take the man easily six hours to bleed out from such a wound, and that was only if Syrathan was unlucky in his placement. Preparing himself, he struck like lightning, having planned it all out in the flash of thought before he acted. His plan worked perfectly.
Syrathan felt the blade slide in, quickly drawing it out both for efficiency and to prevent slashing of anything major. He backed away from the man's instinctive reaction, keeping at a safe distance. As he did so, he strafed to the other side of the bed, where the woman was only just waking from deep sleep, still not conscious enough to scream. Again, he felt the blade enter flesh. He suspected the woman to start screaming, but a quick stab in the solar plexus with the butt of his dirk ensured that she would be disabled before she had the chance. By now, as he looked up, the man had stumbled to his feet, but was already starting to lose his balance.
Syrathan calmed and drew upon his joy at succeeding, flashing his immaculate teeth at the man, who was panting and struggling to keep on his feet. The woman, tears starting to creep down her cheek, was hyperventilating, only now recuperating from his blow to her chest. Syrathan did not want to touch her, and he did his best to keep linen between them as he dumped her on the floor.
Both targets disabled, Syrathan exited the room to report to Vanyusha.
Growers bred the plant carefully to ensure that its effects were not altered, and tested product regularly for its three trademarks of quick disabling, complete paralysis, and, arguably the most important, the ability of the poison to stay away from the brain and all vital tissue. The half-elf knew that there was a distinct difference between the high-quality, professional variety and the poorer, less effective product that would either fail to work or cause brain damage and death. The highest quality variation would even cause the lungs distress, causing shortness of breath. Of course, this would prevent any screaming or verbal resistance while still keeping enough oxygen flowing to keep consciousness.
Syrathan chuckled softly when he saw the soft blue accenting on the tips of the leaves, barely standing out from the rich, deep green. This was professional-grade poison material, and he knew exactly how to apply it to his dirk. He nodded to Vanyusha in confirmation of any wondering that the wraith might have, his smile disappearing as he began work. He grabbed a nearby mortar and pestle and began to crush a handful of the herbs.
The poison was extracted with practiced efficiency. When the herbs were crushed sufficiently, he took a gloved hand and scooped some of the resulting half-solid into his fingers, and rubbed it on the flat of his blade so that the poison extract separated from the pulp. He set the refuse on the table carelessly and poured what little of the liquid remained straight onto the dagger.
His work finished, Syrathan returned up the stairs, careful not to let any of the poison drip onto him. While it coated the blade, he did not take the time to let the excess come off. All the better to apply it to a pair of persons. Otherwise, I might not be ensured of the poison's effectiveness on both the pig and his slut wife.
Trusting Vanyusha to his own task, Syrathan crept into the room his taskmaster had indicated held the targets. Surely enough, a pair of filthy, revolting humans wallowed in their own filth. A shudder ran through the half-elf, feeling a strong impulse to wash himself. The very air felt tainted. I must cleanse it.
He approached the man first, both because he expected more resistance and he was the more filthy of the two. Of course, that is from my vantage point. I am sure that the woman has all manner of...diseases. Pushing the thoughts violently out of his mind, Syrathan focused completely on the task at hand. He chose a point on the man's body based on three factors: position of sleep, lack of fatality, and speed of spreading the poison through the bloodstream.He chose a spot on the oblique abdominals, close enough to major veins to facilitate spreading, but nonlethal for the moment. It would take the man easily six hours to bleed out from such a wound, and that was only if Syrathan was unlucky in his placement. Preparing himself, he struck like lightning, having planned it all out in the flash of thought before he acted. His plan worked perfectly.
Syrathan felt the blade slide in, quickly drawing it out both for efficiency and to prevent slashing of anything major. He backed away from the man's instinctive reaction, keeping at a safe distance. As he did so, he strafed to the other side of the bed, where the woman was only just waking from deep sleep, still not conscious enough to scream. Again, he felt the blade enter flesh. He suspected the woman to start screaming, but a quick stab in the solar plexus with the butt of his dirk ensured that she would be disabled before she had the chance. By now, as he looked up, the man had stumbled to his feet, but was already starting to lose his balance.
Syrathan calmed and drew upon his joy at succeeding, flashing his immaculate teeth at the man, who was panting and struggling to keep on his feet. The woman, tears starting to creep down her cheek, was hyperventilating, only now recuperating from his blow to her chest. Syrathan did not want to touch her, and he did his best to keep linen between them as he dumped her on the floor.
Both targets disabled, Syrathan exited the room to report to Vanyusha.
Re: Shadows of the Mind
Vanyusha stood at the bottom of the staircase, glowing eyes shining through the darkness as he watched his accomplice head upstairs. He suspected Syrathan had been looking forward to this ever since they first started planning their initial strike. Over the centuries he had taken on many assistants, but few had possessed such an impressive bloodlust. Yet he couldn't help but wonder what motivated Syrathan's thirst for carnage. Obviously, he wasn't interested in the results of the experiments, so the impetus had to lie elsewhere. Perhaps some mortals were simply born to revel in the destruction of their own. But as much as that idea interested him, he had important work to do.
He followed after Syrathan, then stopped at the child's room; the door was slightly ajar, likely so the parents could hear her cries more easily. Looking through the crack, he saw that the room was brightly-painted and filled with stuffed animals. No doubt the couple had excitedly set up the nursery as soon as they learned the child was on the way. They clearly loved their daughter very much, which would make the results of his experiment far more interesting. One could only experience true horror when they feared for what they loved most.
Carefully pushing the door open, Vanyusha crept over to the crib and looked down at the little girl sleeping within. She looked exactly like all the other infants he'd had his men abduct over the years. Exactly what about this organism was so lovable? Logically speaking, parents only needed to ensure that their child would mature so that it could one day contribute to society; there was no need to fawn over it with gifts and affection. Hopefully, the results of this experiment would give him better insight into the exact nature of the parent-child connection.
The wraith gently lifted the baby from the crib and started for the door, but suddenly went still. Something about this was... familiar. Heading into a child's room in the middle of the night, taking it from its crib and holding it – he had done this before. But when? His men had always handled the abductions, and he'd only been around children for the experiments. He hadn't even learned how to properly hold one before, and yet he knew exactly what to do. His arms began to tremble, and he looked around the room in confusion. This sensation was unlike anything he had ever felt, and he didn't know what to make of it.
It needed to stop.
Mustering all his strength, Vanyusha forced himself to head into the master bedroom. Ignoring Syrathan in the hallway, he went into the bedroom to carry out the deed himself. The girl's parents were already on the ground, paralyzed from the poison Syrathan had administered. He looked down at the mother, whose tearful eyes widened when she saw her daughter in his arms. She knew exactly what fate awaited her precious little girl. Vanyusha had always regarded his specimens with a scientific curiosity, and he'd seen the horror on this woman's face many times before. But as he stared down at this pathetic wretch before him, he felt, for the first time he could remember, a deep and genuine anger.
Vanyusha knelt down to her level. “I want you to understand how badly you've failed,” he snarled at her. “Your incompetence has cost you your only child. Perhaps if you loved her more, then she wouldn't have suffered a horrible death because of your weakness. You mortals are all alike -- so incredibly weak. All you can do is lie there on the floor in fear and agony. What good are you?" The fury in his voice was obvious. He had never felt this passionate before in his life, and he couldn't understand why.
He placed the child on the ground in front of the mother, then reached into his robe and pulled out a matchbox. The mother's face immediately went white, and the father began squirming on the floor, trying his hardest to stand up. Vanyusha lit the match and held it up as he glared at the slumbering child, then set it down beside her. He would have loved nothing more than to immolate the brat directly for stirring these feelings, but his curse made that impossible. The flames spread across the wooden floor and soon reached the child's nightgown. In an instant, the girl started crying and screaming as the flames slowly consumed her. Even though the mother was paralyzed, Vanyusha could see the unimaginable pain in her eyes. He savored every moment of it.
When the symphony of wails died down and the girl was nothing but a charred husk, Vanyusha went over to the drapes and lit another match. "Take the damned brat outside and set her in front of the house. I'll be down in a moment."
He followed after Syrathan, then stopped at the child's room; the door was slightly ajar, likely so the parents could hear her cries more easily. Looking through the crack, he saw that the room was brightly-painted and filled with stuffed animals. No doubt the couple had excitedly set up the nursery as soon as they learned the child was on the way. They clearly loved their daughter very much, which would make the results of his experiment far more interesting. One could only experience true horror when they feared for what they loved most.
Carefully pushing the door open, Vanyusha crept over to the crib and looked down at the little girl sleeping within. She looked exactly like all the other infants he'd had his men abduct over the years. Exactly what about this organism was so lovable? Logically speaking, parents only needed to ensure that their child would mature so that it could one day contribute to society; there was no need to fawn over it with gifts and affection. Hopefully, the results of this experiment would give him better insight into the exact nature of the parent-child connection.
The wraith gently lifted the baby from the crib and started for the door, but suddenly went still. Something about this was... familiar. Heading into a child's room in the middle of the night, taking it from its crib and holding it – he had done this before. But when? His men had always handled the abductions, and he'd only been around children for the experiments. He hadn't even learned how to properly hold one before, and yet he knew exactly what to do. His arms began to tremble, and he looked around the room in confusion. This sensation was unlike anything he had ever felt, and he didn't know what to make of it.
It needed to stop.
Mustering all his strength, Vanyusha forced himself to head into the master bedroom. Ignoring Syrathan in the hallway, he went into the bedroom to carry out the deed himself. The girl's parents were already on the ground, paralyzed from the poison Syrathan had administered. He looked down at the mother, whose tearful eyes widened when she saw her daughter in his arms. She knew exactly what fate awaited her precious little girl. Vanyusha had always regarded his specimens with a scientific curiosity, and he'd seen the horror on this woman's face many times before. But as he stared down at this pathetic wretch before him, he felt, for the first time he could remember, a deep and genuine anger.
Vanyusha knelt down to her level. “I want you to understand how badly you've failed,” he snarled at her. “Your incompetence has cost you your only child. Perhaps if you loved her more, then she wouldn't have suffered a horrible death because of your weakness. You mortals are all alike -- so incredibly weak. All you can do is lie there on the floor in fear and agony. What good are you?" The fury in his voice was obvious. He had never felt this passionate before in his life, and he couldn't understand why.
He placed the child on the ground in front of the mother, then reached into his robe and pulled out a matchbox. The mother's face immediately went white, and the father began squirming on the floor, trying his hardest to stand up. Vanyusha lit the match and held it up as he glared at the slumbering child, then set it down beside her. He would have loved nothing more than to immolate the brat directly for stirring these feelings, but his curse made that impossible. The flames spread across the wooden floor and soon reached the child's nightgown. In an instant, the girl started crying and screaming as the flames slowly consumed her. Even though the mother was paralyzed, Vanyusha could see the unimaginable pain in her eyes. He savored every moment of it.
When the symphony of wails died down and the girl was nothing but a charred husk, Vanyusha went over to the drapes and lit another match. "Take the damned brat outside and set her in front of the house. I'll be down in a moment."
Re: Shadows of the Mind
He had been tracking the ghost-seer and his woman for some time, but had lost them somehow. Frustrated at his incompetence, the dragon wandered the woods, looking for a decent cave to set a temporary home at. Now as he wandered, pack slung over his shoulder, he began to contemplate returning home, to his mountains. Nothing so far had proved to be interesting, the guards protected their own kind... It was, Kaevad reflected almost a little bitterly, too peaceful for him to remain.
He had but almost made up his mind when the baby's pained shrieks and wails reached his ears. Baffled and slightly horrified, Kaevad raced to the sound, stumbling on the small town of Shim. He raced through, the wailing of the child ringing through his ears - until it slowly died down. He stopped in front of a house, panting slightly, staring at the ajar door. Movement at some curtains caught his eye and he saw a spark of flame - a match? Someone was burning a home! He stepped to the door, and was instantly slapped with the scent of burnt flesh. The villagers screamed in his mind as he burned them- no.... no that is a memory, this is now! Kaevad shook his head and looked to the stairwell, scales forced hard and fast through skin as he pushed himself into his half-shift, ignoring the agony.
Hands became claws tipped with ivory and covered in violet scales that raced up his arm - ending at his elbow. They rose also from his belt line and up his sides and chest. Fangs elongated as horns rose, a tail slithering out of the back of his trousers. He rose to his toes, silently, scales racing unseen up his legs as hind-claws took the place of feet. It was as scales rose up his back that the dragon began to move, yellow-green eyes glowing in the dark as he took to the stairs, knowing only that whoever had burnt the child would burn in hell by dragon flame and claw. He would not allow the murderer of an innocent to go untried.
He had but almost made up his mind when the baby's pained shrieks and wails reached his ears. Baffled and slightly horrified, Kaevad raced to the sound, stumbling on the small town of Shim. He raced through, the wailing of the child ringing through his ears - until it slowly died down. He stopped in front of a house, panting slightly, staring at the ajar door. Movement at some curtains caught his eye and he saw a spark of flame - a match? Someone was burning a home! He stepped to the door, and was instantly slapped with the scent of burnt flesh. The villagers screamed in his mind as he burned them- no.... no that is a memory, this is now! Kaevad shook his head and looked to the stairwell, scales forced hard and fast through skin as he pushed himself into his half-shift, ignoring the agony.
Hands became claws tipped with ivory and covered in violet scales that raced up his arm - ending at his elbow. They rose also from his belt line and up his sides and chest. Fangs elongated as horns rose, a tail slithering out of the back of his trousers. He rose to his toes, silently, scales racing unseen up his legs as hind-claws took the place of feet. It was as scales rose up his back that the dragon began to move, yellow-green eyes glowing in the dark as he took to the stairs, knowing only that whoever had burnt the child would burn in hell by dragon flame and claw. He would not allow the murderer of an innocent to go untried.
Re: Shadows of the Mind
Syrathan held the runt in one hand and his sword in the other. He thought he heard something, but he was not so sure as to cease his normal continuation of the plan. It was only when he saw the furious shifter in the hall that he dropped the pigspawn and drew his dirk in his left hand. Scanning the scaled body, he surmised that frontal combat was not the most efficient or intelligent path to take. He ducked into a room on the left before the dragon-shifter had time to complete his own assessment of Syrathan, hoping that he would follow.
His plan was to knock whatever the largest, heaviest object was in the room at the shifter as he entered the room, and jump out of the window. This would enable him to run into the woods and hide for as long as neccessary. Furthermore, that would allow him to take the scrap of the runt's clothing and set it in a visible place. He mourned the loss of the corpse, but it was extraneous at this point. It was done, though Syrathan wondered if Vanyusha would agree.
His plan was to knock whatever the largest, heaviest object was in the room at the shifter as he entered the room, and jump out of the window. This would enable him to run into the woods and hide for as long as neccessary. Furthermore, that would allow him to take the scrap of the runt's clothing and set it in a visible place. He mourned the loss of the corpse, but it was extraneous at this point. It was done, though Syrathan wondered if Vanyusha would agree.
Re: Shadows of the Mind
Vanyusha, hearing a commotion, looked toward the door. So, his experiment had been discovered. But how? Their victims hadn't made a sound, and the child's crying had only lasted a few moments before the flames claimed her; it certainly wasn't enough to rouse the villagers. The fire had only just begun to spread, so he doubted that it would have attracted attention this quickly. Perhaps someone had been trailing them; someone who, knowing of their business in the woods, had been waiting for them to make their next move.
This warranted further investigation.
Burying his unease for the time being, the wraith walked to the center of the room and waited to greet their visitor. He had heard Syrathan run into another room, perhaps to lure the intruder in for a surprise attack. A smart move, but he was not interested in a fight. Those who dared to interfere with his experiments deserved his personal attention. Once he satisfied his curiosity, he would retreat back to the forest to plan his next move. No doubt this disturbance would require to him to revise his strategy.
"Calm yourself," he called into the hallway. "I wish to speak with you for a moment. Do not worry -- I am unarmed, and have no intention of fighting you.
The flames were growing stronger. Whether or not they reached him was inconsequential; he could not feel their heat, and would gladly suffer their burns to satify his curiosity. Vanyusha stood his ground, patiently awaiting a response.
This warranted further investigation.
Burying his unease for the time being, the wraith walked to the center of the room and waited to greet their visitor. He had heard Syrathan run into another room, perhaps to lure the intruder in for a surprise attack. A smart move, but he was not interested in a fight. Those who dared to interfere with his experiments deserved his personal attention. Once he satisfied his curiosity, he would retreat back to the forest to plan his next move. No doubt this disturbance would require to him to revise his strategy.
"Calm yourself," he called into the hallway. "I wish to speak with you for a moment. Do not worry -- I am unarmed, and have no intention of fighting you.
The flames were growing stronger. Whether or not they reached him was inconsequential; he could not feel their heat, and would gladly suffer their burns to satify his curiosity. Vanyusha stood his ground, patiently awaiting a response.
Re: Shadows of the Mind
He looked up, and saw a demon holding a charred babe. He very nearly lost it there, charging up the stairs as the demon dropped the dead innocent and fled. Kaevad had half a mind to follow- but the family of the child... he could hear muffled whimpers and sobs, and smell the fire. He crouched to gently pick the child up, rage and agony rising. What sick bastard would do this? He had his answer soon enough as a voice called to him.
He moved to the voice, only to see the one known as 'The White Prophet' stand before him. A man turned wraith, it is said, though none know the true story. The skull stared at him and he stared back, unafraid. He may not have 'lived' as long, but tales also told of its inability to harm directly. "I know." Kaevad rumbled. "However, I haven't the time to converse with you, White Prophet, as I'd rather not allow these innocents to burn." Dead child in one hand, Kaevad bowed his head and moved past the wraith.
The humans screamed, of course, probably feeling as though another demon had entered their home. He thrust his wings out, ignoring the sharp scream of pain that seared through him, as he bowed and grabbed the male first, slinging him over his shoulder, a wing covering him so he would stay in place as Kaevad bowed again to scoop the woman up in one arm. She wailed when she saw the child, and Kaevad cringed internally. The sound of pained women... it hurt him. He turned to the wraith, and the shadow behind him. "If ye still desire to speak, we'll speak outside." Kaevad turned and kicked the center of the window, pushing the frame and its contents, outward. Another kick had it falling, Kaevad leaping out after it, spreading his wings to slow his fall. He landed and moved a safe distance, depositing the people at a near-by neighbors door with the child before moving back towards the demons that lay in wake for him.
He moved to the voice, only to see the one known as 'The White Prophet' stand before him. A man turned wraith, it is said, though none know the true story. The skull stared at him and he stared back, unafraid. He may not have 'lived' as long, but tales also told of its inability to harm directly. "I know." Kaevad rumbled. "However, I haven't the time to converse with you, White Prophet, as I'd rather not allow these innocents to burn." Dead child in one hand, Kaevad bowed his head and moved past the wraith.
The humans screamed, of course, probably feeling as though another demon had entered their home. He thrust his wings out, ignoring the sharp scream of pain that seared through him, as he bowed and grabbed the male first, slinging him over his shoulder, a wing covering him so he would stay in place as Kaevad bowed again to scoop the woman up in one arm. She wailed when she saw the child, and Kaevad cringed internally. The sound of pained women... it hurt him. He turned to the wraith, and the shadow behind him. "If ye still desire to speak, we'll speak outside." Kaevad turned and kicked the center of the window, pushing the frame and its contents, outward. Another kick had it falling, Kaevad leaping out after it, spreading his wings to slow his fall. He landed and moved a safe distance, depositing the people at a near-by neighbors door with the child before moving back towards the demons that lay in wake for him.
Re: Shadows of the Mind
Syrathan stumbled through the stubble of brush that ringed the edge of the forest. He reached the tree line before he turned to observe the situation. The house had caught fire, and was hopeless now structurally. It was just a matter of sooner or later. He felt a twinge of regret for leaving Vanyusha in the house alone, but his instinct quickly set in and he crouched on his haunches, half-hoping the draconic creature would show itself so he could eat tonight.
Re: Shadows of the Mind
The White Prophet – he hadn't been called that in nearly a century. How could this stranger possibly know his identity? He needed to satisfy his curiosity. The experiment might have failed, but now he faced a far more interesting opportunity.
Vanyusha left the room and slowly descended the staircase, ignoring the spreading flames. He stopped as a charred beam broke from the ceiling and crashed down in front of him. The fire was spreading more quickly than he had expected. If he wanted to learn anything from this stranger, he needed to hurry along before the guards arrived. Further interference was undesirable, and would likely lead him to cancel his plans altogether. Shim still had much to offer, so that couldn't be allowed to happen.
He stepped out of the shop and looked around for Syrathan, but couldn't find him. No doubt the boy left after the dragon rushed in. Vanyusha hardly expected any loyalty from Syrathan, so he wouldn't blame him if he did. Still, having someone to rely on would be useful while he spoke with this dragon – and dealt with the guards, depending on the conversation's length. If they took his life this night, then so be it; but this opportunity was too promising to pass up. '
“Now that we are outside, dragon, I wish to speak with you,” Vanyusha said as he walked over to Syrathan. As he moved, he noticed that his left arm was currently on fire. A potentially fatal concern, but it could wait. “Please indulge me and explain why you felt compelled to interfere with my experiment. As far as I know, you have no reason to waste your time on such worthless humans – especially ones that cannot save their own child.” He tilted his head to the side. “And more importantly, how did you know my old title? I haven't been called that in decades.”
The fire continued to burn away at his arm as he patiently waited.
Vanyusha left the room and slowly descended the staircase, ignoring the spreading flames. He stopped as a charred beam broke from the ceiling and crashed down in front of him. The fire was spreading more quickly than he had expected. If he wanted to learn anything from this stranger, he needed to hurry along before the guards arrived. Further interference was undesirable, and would likely lead him to cancel his plans altogether. Shim still had much to offer, so that couldn't be allowed to happen.
He stepped out of the shop and looked around for Syrathan, but couldn't find him. No doubt the boy left after the dragon rushed in. Vanyusha hardly expected any loyalty from Syrathan, so he wouldn't blame him if he did. Still, having someone to rely on would be useful while he spoke with this dragon – and dealt with the guards, depending on the conversation's length. If they took his life this night, then so be it; but this opportunity was too promising to pass up. '
“Now that we are outside, dragon, I wish to speak with you,” Vanyusha said as he walked over to Syrathan. As he moved, he noticed that his left arm was currently on fire. A potentially fatal concern, but it could wait. “Please indulge me and explain why you felt compelled to interfere with my experiment. As far as I know, you have no reason to waste your time on such worthless humans – especially ones that cannot save their own child.” He tilted his head to the side. “And more importantly, how did you know my old title? I haven't been called that in decades.”
The fire continued to burn away at his arm as he patiently waited.
Last edited by Vanyusha on Thu Mar 07, 2013 11:58 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Re: Shadows of the Mind
Worthless... Kaevad's eyes narrowed, rage sparking up. "Those 'worthless' humans, in your words, were paralyzed when you burnt their babe. They fought, I could hear not only their cries, but the babes. The fact you dare call them worthless when they tried, despite being unable to move, to save their child... it sickens even me. Although... I should have expected nothing less from you."
He shifted, eyes on the wraith even as he scented the second demon. He could wait. He would kill them both if given the chance. But for now... for now he would talk to the demon. His own curiosity burned within him, an unquenchable flame. "I know of your title, of all your titles, because I've lived long enough to hear them all used. 'The White Prophet', 'The Wraith', 'The Soul Collector'. You have many tales woven around you, none know which is true, only common theme is that death and desecrated corpses lay in your wake."
Kaevad could hear voices, people were rising. Kaevad could move away, allow them to capture the wraith but- the accomplice. He was skilled. And the wraith had his own means of combat, Kaevad knew. Just WHAT they were, he was uncertain of, but he knew he possessed the capabilities. He would not see the people harmed here any more. "The people are rising, if you wish to continue, we will be forced to do it elsewhere. Call your dog off me, I won't slay you for your nature just yet. I too, have questions, Prophet."
He waited for the wraith's response, ignoring the voices. Should the worst come, Kaevad would defend the people. But for now... for now he had a burning curiosity and a wish to get away from the weak-minded mortals that would, no doubt, blame him for a crime he hadn't commit.
He shifted, eyes on the wraith even as he scented the second demon. He could wait. He would kill them both if given the chance. But for now... for now he would talk to the demon. His own curiosity burned within him, an unquenchable flame. "I know of your title, of all your titles, because I've lived long enough to hear them all used. 'The White Prophet', 'The Wraith', 'The Soul Collector'. You have many tales woven around you, none know which is true, only common theme is that death and desecrated corpses lay in your wake."
Kaevad could hear voices, people were rising. Kaevad could move away, allow them to capture the wraith but- the accomplice. He was skilled. And the wraith had his own means of combat, Kaevad knew. Just WHAT they were, he was uncertain of, but he knew he possessed the capabilities. He would not see the people harmed here any more. "The people are rising, if you wish to continue, we will be forced to do it elsewhere. Call your dog off me, I won't slay you for your nature just yet. I too, have questions, Prophet."
He waited for the wraith's response, ignoring the voices. Should the worst come, Kaevad would defend the people. But for now... for now he had a burning curiosity and a wish to get away from the weak-minded mortals that would, no doubt, blame him for a crime he hadn't commit.
Re: Shadows of the Mind
Syrathan clutched the hilt of his dagger with a steel grip of blind hatred. This dragon...man...thing had interrupted his work, and he wished more than anything to make him pay. He was confused as to whether or not he could eat the abomination; he would answer that when he examined the corpse.
Half-listening to the conversation between his taskmaster and the dragon-monster, he planned out his plan of attack. He would insert the dagger in the kidney, as there would be just enough poison left on the blade to slow him. Then, having lost his element of surprise, he would draw his sword and finish off the crippled opponent.
He was impatient. He knew that Vanyusha would be angry with him, and he didn't wish to exacerbate his anger by interrupting what he obviously saw was an interesting conversation. He gritted his teeth and waited.
Half-listening to the conversation between his taskmaster and the dragon-monster, he planned out his plan of attack. He would insert the dagger in the kidney, as there would be just enough poison left on the blade to slow him. Then, having lost his element of surprise, he would draw his sword and finish off the crippled opponent.
He was impatient. He knew that Vanyusha would be angry with him, and he didn't wish to exacerbate his anger by interrupting what he obviously saw was an interesting conversation. He gritted his teeth and waited.
Re: Shadows of the Mind
Vanyusha kept his eyes on the draconic man. This man was like himself – a walker of the ages. It had been decades since he spoke with one of his own, and even longer since he met someone who knew his identity. Perhaps this man could remind him of what he'd forgotten, explain why he these feelings were suddenly stirring within him. But if he wanted answers, he needed to call off Syrathan. He wasn't sure if his accomplice was still present, but he would oblige the man-dragon nonetheless.
He raised his good hand, eyes never leaving Kaevad. “Syrathan, stay your hand! We must take our leave soon, and fighting this creature would merely delay our departure. I wish to have a few more words with him before the guards arrive.”
Black sludge oozed down from his left sleeve as the fire continued to consume his arm. Putting it out would take too much time, and he wanted answers from this beast now. It wasn't his dominant arm, so he could do without it. Few of his tools required the use of both hands, and his curse prevented him from using most of them in the first place. What remained of the arm thrashed about violently like a tentacle, then severed from his shoulder and fell to the ground, now a burning pile of gunk. Vanyusha didn't even glance at it, his glowing gaze still fixed on Kaevad.
He walked over to Kaevad and looked him in the eyes. “I have been waiting for this opportunity for quite some time. The years have robbed me of most of my memories, so I daresay you know more about me than I do. Most of my past is inconsequential, but certain aspects have been... disrupting my work as of late. I would be quite obliged if you would tell me what you know. Perhaps we can strike an arrangement?”
Pausing, he glanced back at where he thought Syrathan may be standing. “If you are still here, Syrathan, please come out and ensure that no guards disrupt us. I wish to speak with this man in peace.” He turned back to Kaevad. “May I please have your name?”
He raised his good hand, eyes never leaving Kaevad. “Syrathan, stay your hand! We must take our leave soon, and fighting this creature would merely delay our departure. I wish to have a few more words with him before the guards arrive.”
Black sludge oozed down from his left sleeve as the fire continued to consume his arm. Putting it out would take too much time, and he wanted answers from this beast now. It wasn't his dominant arm, so he could do without it. Few of his tools required the use of both hands, and his curse prevented him from using most of them in the first place. What remained of the arm thrashed about violently like a tentacle, then severed from his shoulder and fell to the ground, now a burning pile of gunk. Vanyusha didn't even glance at it, his glowing gaze still fixed on Kaevad.
He walked over to Kaevad and looked him in the eyes. “I have been waiting for this opportunity for quite some time. The years have robbed me of most of my memories, so I daresay you know more about me than I do. Most of my past is inconsequential, but certain aspects have been... disrupting my work as of late. I would be quite obliged if you would tell me what you know. Perhaps we can strike an arrangement?”
Pausing, he glanced back at where he thought Syrathan may be standing. “If you are still here, Syrathan, please come out and ensure that no guards disrupt us. I wish to speak with this man in peace.” He turned back to Kaevad. “May I please have your name?”
Re: Shadows of the Mind
The wraith was asking his name. Politely. After his fucking arm- was that his arm? - fell off, burning. The dragon didn't know how to react, the human had fainted, much to Kaevad's dark entertainment and he... well he wasn't sure what to think. "My name is Kaevad. I know only what your follower's descendant told me, Prophet, and little more. I did some looking, little is known of you." He hesitated a moment, an idea crossing his mind. "I do have an idea, however, but I do not wish to discuss it here. We will retreat into the trees at the very least." Stepping past the wraith, the dragon moved and fought to recall what he'd learned all those years ago.
He remembered sitting in his cabin, actually cuddling Aileen, they'd been talking about something or another, when the panicked knock had sounded. Someone was in town, raving about finding the Prophet of his father's God and cult, begging to know of any information related to this creature called "Vanyusha". Kaevad bid Aileen to visit her father as he dealt with the crazed man in the privacy of his own home. Thankfully, she listened for a change.
He entered the shadows of the woods, listening hard for any signs of a sneak attack - he didn't trust the wraith's dog. He turned to look at the robed man following him, a sleeve burnt and waving uselessly with his movements. So that had been his arm after all... interesting.
"Now what is it you seek, human?" Kaevad had growled at the man once they were in his cabin. The man hadn't come easily, preferring to fight believing his life in danger. He would only be correct in this if he proved a threat to his home. "I seek my master and Prophet - Vanyusha."
It had taken awhile to get past the mad ravings and crazed mumblings of worship, but eventually Kaevad got the tales from the man's lips of this "Vanyusha"'s greatness. Sacrifices of humans to a god of vengeance, mass kidnappings, experiments... the destruction of the cult was bitterly remembered, with tears Kaevad remembered with dark humor.
The ancestor of the crazed man had managed to survive the razing by mere chance - a stroke of luck given unto him by the God to rain their wrath down upon the enemy - and had taught his descendants of the beautifully terrible White Prophet. Only HE had sought after those mad tales though, only HE had scoured every history book, dredged up every tale, listened to every fearful ballad in hopes of finding his master. And, after a few drinks to celebrate this 'God' of his, Kaevad learned all that the man knew. A quick trip to a cave that Kaevad had 'sworn' he'd seen this wraith in, ended the despicable man's life.
But there was more to this story, there always was. And so he waited, back to a large oak, watching the skull float to him. "My idea, Prophet, is to assist you in finding your past. I know of some of your stories - not all - but possibly enough of a heading for us to locate your past." Kaevad's wings flexed a moment, stretching after protesting from being cramped. "In exchange, should you desire to learn, or perhaps even study me, you will not harm or kill anyone while traveling with me. If you do not wish this, then we have another matter to attend to. For now, however, we'll deal with what's on the table, aye?"
He remembered sitting in his cabin, actually cuddling Aileen, they'd been talking about something or another, when the panicked knock had sounded. Someone was in town, raving about finding the Prophet of his father's God and cult, begging to know of any information related to this creature called "Vanyusha". Kaevad bid Aileen to visit her father as he dealt with the crazed man in the privacy of his own home. Thankfully, she listened for a change.
He entered the shadows of the woods, listening hard for any signs of a sneak attack - he didn't trust the wraith's dog. He turned to look at the robed man following him, a sleeve burnt and waving uselessly with his movements. So that had been his arm after all... interesting.
"Now what is it you seek, human?" Kaevad had growled at the man once they were in his cabin. The man hadn't come easily, preferring to fight believing his life in danger. He would only be correct in this if he proved a threat to his home. "I seek my master and Prophet - Vanyusha."
It had taken awhile to get past the mad ravings and crazed mumblings of worship, but eventually Kaevad got the tales from the man's lips of this "Vanyusha"'s greatness. Sacrifices of humans to a god of vengeance, mass kidnappings, experiments... the destruction of the cult was bitterly remembered, with tears Kaevad remembered with dark humor.
The ancestor of the crazed man had managed to survive the razing by mere chance - a stroke of luck given unto him by the God to rain their wrath down upon the enemy - and had taught his descendants of the beautifully terrible White Prophet. Only HE had sought after those mad tales though, only HE had scoured every history book, dredged up every tale, listened to every fearful ballad in hopes of finding his master. And, after a few drinks to celebrate this 'God' of his, Kaevad learned all that the man knew. A quick trip to a cave that Kaevad had 'sworn' he'd seen this wraith in, ended the despicable man's life.
But there was more to this story, there always was. And so he waited, back to a large oak, watching the skull float to him. "My idea, Prophet, is to assist you in finding your past. I know of some of your stories - not all - but possibly enough of a heading for us to locate your past." Kaevad's wings flexed a moment, stretching after protesting from being cramped. "In exchange, should you desire to learn, or perhaps even study me, you will not harm or kill anyone while traveling with me. If you do not wish this, then we have another matter to attend to. For now, however, we'll deal with what's on the table, aye?"