New Enemies.....New Allies

[Sylus Kurgen]

How much time passed was unknown. The two men stood for the longest time, just watching one another. Watching and waiting. Neither daring to breath as each continued to stare down the other.

In the end it was a pair of twin scimitars that fell to the snow laden ground. Sylus knew he could possible survive the tribe of shifters, but he could not deal with this hermit's magic helping them. He would not last more than a handful of minutes.

At last he expelled a shuddering breath, shoulders still squared and defiant, but he knew resitance at this moment would be futile. Almost immediately a pair of guards were taking each arm, forcing him into a lockbar, shoving him to his knees. "Why?" This was the only word that could be forced passed his lips before a heavy blow resounded against the back of his skull, casting him down the spiraling path into sweet darkness.
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"Be easy with him." Snarfle's beady eyes scutinized the pair of guards as they the young man's limp body into the iron cell. "He's valuable cargo, there's a vampire who's been thirsting to meet him."

Tromping into a nearby tent, the gnome moved straight away to a small chest that seemed to be shoved into an out of the way spot. Spider-like hands gently eased the lid of the box open barely a hair, being cautious not to set off the poison dart trap just inside. Muttering the release word quickly, Snarfle disarmed the trap and raised the lid. Pulling out the poison dart, he set it aside.

From inside of the box, a white glowing crystal hummed silently. The old hermit focused his mind and cast his thoughts into the enchanted item. He pushed his thought tendril farther and farther into the shadowed mist swirling about the vastness inside of the gem. "Mistress....."

A cold wind chilled with the temper of rage caressed the hermits' mind, making his sphincter muscles cringe. "Mistress...I have him. Just as you ordered."

A surge of feral delight rippled through that cold wind, tendrils caressing Snarfle's mind with a lovers care. " Well done...bring him to me in Daemon Hall." The commanding voice that came from deep within the crystal was barely more than a whisper, but reverberated with a dark power. Without any further need for communication, the crystal abruptly severed the mental threads; leaving the hermit staring off into nothingness for several moments.

Jerking out of the dazed state, the old hermit barked the necessary orders to the guards standing outside the tent entrance. "There is much work to be done. The dog needs to learn the error of thinking he could escape her for what he did."

[Sylus Kurgen]

The darkness that had engulfed his mind for so long finally began to thin as his conscious self surfaced. And immediately all he could feel was pain.

It surged through his body like a wildfire, no part of him was spared. Wave upon wave crashed over him both pysically and mentally, not once allowing for the possibility of breath to be taken; and let out in agonized screams. Back arched, every muscle in his body went taught as the invisible lashes focused on one spot.

The spot all men prize when blessed by the genetic pool. He wanted to cup himself. Wanted to protect that part of him from the merciless torture, but the chains binding him were not so kind.

Time became irrelevant for Sylus. Just as it seemed his body would recieve a moments reprieve, the pain started all over again, wave upon agonizing wave.

On and on it went, his mnd knowing only pain.
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Hour after painful hour, the hermit stood by and watched as his mistress conducted her revenge. "You brought this on yourself kid." He was grateful that the lads' screams could not be heard, that his mistress would not allow the boy to scream. Watching the young man writhe and thrash about on the stone floor would have turned his bowels to mush years ago; But as it was, he watched the whole show with an air of cold indifference. The kid fought the inevitable, now he had to pay for his mistake. Plain and simple.

[Sylus Kurgen]

" I want you to oversee the whelp's "re-education" personally Snarfle." Eyes like golden honey came to rest malevolently on the old hermit. Forcing down the urge to cringe under that gaze, he nodded obediently. "As you command mistress. However...if I could be granted to ask one question?" Licking his lips, he got the distinct feeling that to pose any query at this moment was not the wisest choice.

Drawing a hissing breath the Mistress of Shadows crossed one pale leg over the other, fingers caressing the ring which could destroy him without hesitation. " You may ask, but choose your wors, very. Carefully."

The timing was definitely off. I don't know why I'm asking this . Fighting the urge to fidget and shifter under her imperious gaze was a battle all its own. Those eyes! Oh how they could make even the strongest backbone feel like jelly, Snarfle just wanted to sink into the stone floor beneath his feet. "Well, on with it! Pose your question and get to the task which you have been given." Each sultry word from her thin red lips only enhanced the feeling of there being a block of ice in the pit of his stomach, killing the butterflies of his nervousness.

With a miniscule cough, the hermit cleared his throat. The action was more to calm his own nerves and stall for time rather than anything actually afflicting his voice. "Well, I just wish to know. Why it is myself that you've chosen to go about this. task?" The look that flashed through her eyes suddenly had Snarfle wishing he were somewhere else. With a lot of holy objects between himself and her.

"My dear, dear, loyal, Snafle" Yes, he definitely wanted to be somewhere else as those honey coated words came to his ears. "It should be rather obvious...” Rising slowly, the filmy black satin dress seemed molded to her skin. Hips swayed seductively as she stalked towards him, the look in her eyes like the cat eyes the canary.

A slender finger traced the scar along his cheek as she tilted his head up, forcing him to gaze into her eyes. He was suddenly swimming in those honey brown pools; his mind rolling under as her will enthralled him. Just before the sweet darkness engulfed him, she said. "Because you know why it has to be you."

[Sylus Kurgen]

Upon waking, the first thing that Sylus wished to do was curl up into a ball and whimper. The pain from the night before still lingering in the body's physical memory. Suppressing a grown, he tried to push himself up into a sitting position; however the chains were still in place, leaving him with no option to seek comfort. The muscles in his shoulders and calves were stretched taught, locked into place from remaining in one position for too long. If he did some how manage to get free, the pain from those sore muscles alone would be what prevented escape. Then the pain would be worse.

The small act of just turning his head to look around make the muscles around his shoulderblades scream. "Forgot how many muscles are in the back" He spat out the words between his clenched teeth. Working his shoulders slowly, he did the best one could to alleviate the pain. Besides, it wasn't like he was going anywhere any time soon. Might as well prepare for when such a time came.

Focusing his mind on making the body relax helped to pass the time, but was ultimately an exercise in futility. The minute he stopped moving this muscle or that, everything locked right back up again. It was pointless to keep up that course of action.

Though no one else could be seen in the room, Sylus doubted his captors would truly have left him alone. With no other options available to him at the current time, he let his mind drift to Alais. Wondering what she was doing now, wishing he could just hold her once before the end. Tell her how much he truly relied on her, cared for her. "Alais....I wish you were here now." The words sounded more like a child missing it's beloved guardian than a grown man missing the love of his heart. What a pathetic sight he must be! "You're off with your own problems. No one can save me but me.." Sighing once again, he did the only thing he could do. Try and keep his muscles relaxed, and think of Alais. Hoping, daring, that she be alright.
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In another part of Daemon Hall, an old hermit paced up and down the length of a crumbling hall way. Thinking of how to go about the whelp's "re-education".

[Sylus Kurgen]

"GET. OUT!!!!"

A flying letter opener and a few other choice forms of cutlery crashed into the door as the furry critter hastily slammed it shut. Its little chest rising and falling laboriously the creature leaned back against the door frame.

"No munchies and crunchies in THERE!" Those beady golden eyes widened for a moment before it started skipping down the hall.

"Me wonder what old Snarf snarf doing?" It silently made way through multiple corridors, ever wary not to run into any of the other humans that were staying in this crumbling ruin.

Every time it felt their malicious eyes descend upon the diminutive being, it got the distinct feeling that the man or woman just wanted to kick it across the room and see it's innards splatter on the wall. The humans in this place were entirely too violent, much much too violent in its opinion. But it had learned humans were not a kind race to beings unlike them. Most of them were like that anyway.

Peeing into this room or that, the little creature searched and searched for the only man that had taken it in, and actually cared for it. The doors passed by as the being’s shuffling steps carried it deeper and deeper into the inner sanctum of Daemon Hall. Rough hewn brick and mortar gradually became smoothly worked black obsidian stone. Those polished black walls reflecting shadow images of the little creature on all sides.

“This place feel bad. Me hope Snarf snarf not down heres” The words came out with a faint quiver undercutting the defiant tone.

The darkness in this area of the complex could barely be penetrated by those golden orbs that could pierce most shadows. This wasn’t a natural darkness. Rounding a corner, it gave a sharp hiss before scurrying back a few steps and moving out of sight.

“The Mistress, not good she down here!”

It dared not speak the words. Such things were best left as thoughts. Pressing its little body against the wall, it remained there until the soft clicking of her footsteps came from well down the hall. And away from where it was.

“Dat a close one”

Letting out the breath it wasn’t aware of holding, the small creature moved down the hall in the opposite direction that the Mistress had gone.

[Sylus Kurgen]

"This is depressing. Go back to Kelvar to settle an old matter, chucked in a cell. Captured and brought here, chucked in a cell. Less than a year between then and now. I'm sensing a trend. Either that of I'm allowing myself to think on the matter too much." Shoving away the nonsensical thoughts, he released a ragged sigh and turned his focus back towards the guards. Walking up and down the hall outside of his dingey "home", the sentries stood three abreast. With a sturdy knife, Sylus knew he could take them easily, but he didn't have one, so the thought was pointless.

After his supposed "re-education" that backstabbing snake Fizzywart had thrown him into this dungeon. The ignorant old fool should have realized from the get-go that he would not submit easily. Sylus had been collard before, he vowed never to let it happen again. " I'll welcome the grave first before I submit to another's will. I am my own Master." He had promised that vow in the blood of his enemies. It was something he would not break. Ever!

" Only a handful of years till my thirtieth name day, and I'm already more jaded than most of the gray haired politicos in any city." Curling his lips in disgust, he ran a clawed nail down the wall, putting another white scratch next to all of the others. To plan his escape, he would need to keep track of the days, though he didnt' know how many, IF any had passed when they brought him to this place. Between being paraded around the halls and the forced subjugation, the first the he had noticed was that all the doors leading to any upper levels were heavily guarded. From that alone, Sylus knew that he was under ground. As he should have realized from the start. The fact that none of the rooms had any windows should have made it really obvious. "Where have my wits gone? I'll admit I'm not the smartest person in the realms, but I certainly have a good enough head on my shoulders to think quicker than this." Scoffing at his own self-awareness he rose and moved about the cell. I may be confined, but that is no excuse to be lax on my training.

Grabbing the support bar that ran horizontally across the silver bars he began to lift his full weight up and down. This routine always hurt, the silver alloy rubbing the skin across his palms raw, sometimes making them bleed. But a little pain kept his thoughts focused, thinking through the pain sharpened his mind. On more than one occasion, he had been going to fast the guards had thought he was humping the bars. Sylus ignored their scathing remarks. They would be dealt with soon enough. All he had to do was wait for escape to present him an opening.

From his own personal count, it seemed that nearly three weeks had passed since he awoke on the metal slab in the torture chamber. Three weeks and the only faces he saw were that of Snarfle and HER. His personal bane. Wait, no, correction, in that list of faces he had to include the small furry creature with it's childlike voice and attitudes. The guards set to watch him constantly changed, leaving him without any chance to lean their habits or pick up anything definite about how they acted.

Sylus was not the only prisoner however, his preternatural senses picked up the scent of other "living" entities, but he never saw a one of them. Which meant they were kept isolated from one another, to prevent any collective thoughts. What one prisoner missed, others would not. What he needed to figure out was, how do I get in contact with any of them?

[Sylus Kurgen]

"What do you mean nothing is working!" Rayven was out of her seat in an instant upon hearing that the whelp's "re-education" was not going according to plan.

Adjusting the ebony stole draped over her shoulders, slender and shapely alabaster legs stalked towards the hermit. A black spider-silk dress rode the contours of her body, presenting the distinct impression that her skin was translucent. Fire flashed in her honey colored eyes, making the old man visibly cringe with each step. The bloodred opal that rested between the curving mounds of her breasts only enhanced that fire.

"W..we.....h..He has a stronger will than originally expected" were the words that Snarfle finally managed to say. However this news only increased the fire in his Mistress' eyes.

"I don't care how you do it, fool. I want the boy to be broken. A good slave is one withough a will of their own. He taught me this. Iced fingers ran along the old hermits cheek, draining what color had been left in his face. "Perhaps I should break him myself. We both would be relearning." Pale lips curved into a carnivorous smile as she turned Snarfle Fizzywart's face up to meet her eyes. " There may be another way in which you can serve me tonight"

Not liking the tone in which those words were spoken, the old hermit gulped; feeling his heart magically climb into his throat. Unable to control his movements, the old man allowed himself to be led into one of the many antechambers that made up his misstress's rooms.

[Sylus Kurgen]

The guards stood three abreast before and behind Sylus as they ushered him down the dimly lit hallway. Every so often one of the men at his back found the opportunity to give his ribs a good knuckling with the pommel of their blades. He did not fall though, that would only give these men the excuse to beat him. While his injuries healed quickly, he did not care to recieve the beating in the first place.

The shackles that bound him at ankle and wrist had already worn the skin raw. Blood seeping in small incriments helped to reduce some of the pain, but only a little bit. Wearing the blood and beatings like a badge of honor, he kept his unruly maned head tall. Doing the best he could to make it appear that he was a king being escorted by his personal guard. rather than a prisoner being taken to some undisclosed chamber.

Shoved into a small antechamber, Sylus snarled at the door before turning to fix the details of the room in his mind. Chaines lined from the walls and hung from the cieling, but none of that bothered him. "Alright...torture chamber. This is really getting old." Ebony locks shook as he laughed defiantly. The cold chains brushing over his bare skin as he walked towards the rack table. "Better to just get this unpleasant ordeal over with, sooner they throw me back into a cell the sooner I can get to working on better things."

"I don't recall that you were ever one to rush, when doing anything." Whirling around, Sylus felt his jaw hit the stone flooring. Eyes impossibly wide, he backed into the table out of shock. Standing less than ten paces before him stood a woman he knew well. Too well. A white stole draped over a pair of slender shoulders, Rayven Altrua clapsed her hands beneath her breasts, eyeing him like a pawn on a chess board. The royal blue dress that contoured to her shapely frame looked to be made of the finest silk, a pair of matching blue stilettos finished the simple outfit.

Swallowing, forcefully, he stiffened his spine from it's gellatin state. This was not going to be pleasant, not at all. "I have learned a few things over the years" was all he said, suprised to find his voice sounding stronger than he felt.

[Sylus Kurgen]

Rayven's "torture" session had been exactly what he had expected it to be. Where pain and drugs had failed, the Mistress of Shadows used the one thing that no mortal can resists. No matter how strong their will, no matter what their minds and mouths say, the mortal coil cannot resits the temptation of pleasure. The times she rode him were too many to count. Hands bound above his head and ankles chained wide apart, with a thick cloth wrapped around his eyes, prevented Sylus from being able to concentrate on anything but the wet heat slamming up and down on his organ without mercy.

Each time he reached into himself, seeking the Void and the Flame to keep away all thoughts of what was happening she clenched herself around him, making the Void shatter, the intense emotions flooding through his senses. All the while, suppressing his climax with her other powers. His organ throbbed in that space between pleasure and pain, screaming for that sweet release.

But release never came. Sating her own pleasure, Rayven climbed from his body, leaving him stiff and slick with her juices as she strode from the room. Her words echoing through his mind.

"Release will come when you submit"

Suppressing the urge to whimper, Sylus closed his eyes and sought the Void and the Flame. She could keep him from reaching out to it, but once he got a hold of the "Oneness" even her pleasurable torture would be hardpressed to break him. And break him she would not do. This he vowed.

[Sylus Kurgen]

Over the next several days the "re-education" of Sylus Kurgen became more and more grueling. She did not follow any semblance of what could be a routine. Some times he was hauled into that unadorned chamber at what could only be early morning, then again at what Sylus could only believe to be late at night. He didn't have any way of counting the hours accuaratly, so it was best guess for the most part.

On other days he was carried into the chamber less than an hour after the last sesson, his organ still throbbing, just begging release. Balls aching more in pain than any kind of pleasure, she rode him mercilessly time after time. Then she would just get up and leave to let the guards haul him back to his cell. Through every hour of each day he fought to keep his hold on the Oneness, letting the Void fill him and erase all emotions from his mind.

After the first week he could grab hold of the Void within seconds without even trying. His mind becoming focuse on a single spot, or object. More-often-than not it was the back of his eyelids. The blindfolds making it impossible to see anything, combining sense deprivation with sensation to overload his mind. Without the Void and the Flame to isolate his mind from his body, Sylus would have had only two options. Submit or go mad.

When he wasn't strapped to the metal slab he chose to remain in his cell. All the while working on his body, using the silver bars to perform pull-ups and hanging knee-lifts, tucking his knees up to his chest while keeping most of his body's weight on his arms. Dropping from the bars he followed up the routine with knuckle push-ups and jack-knifes. Lying on the floor, he stretched his hands out above his head and extended his legs. Snapping up, he lifted his arms and his legs making his fingertips brush his ankles above his mid-section, making his body double up on itself.

The constant workouts suited two purposes. On one side it kept his body too tired to be used against him in his sessions with Rayven, and on the other it was keeping him toned and in shape. However, the two combined left him with little time to actually look for the other prisoners. Not like he could really get out of his cell long enough for any definite search.

"There's nothing to do about that now, I guess. Just need to fight through this. Of course, if my heart wasn't pledge to Alais, I -MIGHT- have given in. But I refuse to be anyone's slave or lapdog. I refuse to become that weak."

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Moving silently down the hall, a familiar creature covered in hair listened to those words. Cocking a furry ear into the air it inched closer to the bars, beady eyes widening as it watched the human go through workout after workout.

[Sylus Kurgen]

Shadowy substance took up a perch at the top of the First Catholic Church of Rhydin's tallest steeple as he looked out over the city, just basking in the sight of it all. So many people scurrying home before the last of the sunlight fades, and the darker half of the city came out to play. Those citizens that could not stalk the streets of Rhydin during the day. Vamypres.

Up here in the shadows not a one of them could see him, after all, a shadow does not move from the body it is attacked to no? A step taken off of the top of the cross let him fall to the ground, only to be caught by a strong breeze. In this form it was such a rush to ride the air currents, being blown where ever the wind took him, like a leaf falling from a tree. In this wraith-like existence Sylus was more free than he had ever been. He could go almost anywhere, no locks bard his way, no magic spells could truly hurt him. This was as close as he could get to untouchable. But his body was still vulnerable back in the cells. That meant so was he, even in this form.

Right hand reached out to catch a passing lamp post as the soft current weaved it's way within a few blocks of the Red Dragon Inn. Silent steps carried him up onto the porch and through the entrance in a matter of minutes. It was earlier so the common room had only a handful of patrons as he walked towards the door that led into the dueling catecombs. There were two tasks for this night. Call his shift, and talk to someone that could mount a rescue. Lucky for the elder Kurgan the latter would be around to fulfill his wish. Some nights running into Xenograg was a good thing. When he wasn't in teaching mode.

Half-way through the shift, Sylus asked his mentor to please sit within so that they could discuss a few matters. As they talked he slowly told Xenograg of his current situation but did not go too much into detail with what was happening, leaving the torture out of it. However the pair did eventually come to the decision on scrying for Sylus's physical body, but the actual event was a few days away as could be expected. Xeno forgot all about it until Sylus reminded himself nearly a week later.

[Sylus Kurgen]

Days ticked by ever so slowly while he waited for the light of salvation. Seconds felt like minutes, the tick-tock of minutes seemed like hours, and all of those long hours dragged on for an eternity. That fiery orb known as the sun soared past its zenith at a snails’ pace, though he could not see that beautiful sphere from his stonewalled cell. Yet hope remained for it was all that he had now. The beacon to light the way for his rescuers had been safely hidden in a small crack along the back wall. An arrow of the smallest making, enchanted to act as a compass for the band coming to his ever increasing aid.
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Shadowed gauntlet rapped on the Dojo door for three strikes before the figure waited with required patience for the guard to look through the small opening in the top portion of the entranceway. The female turk on duty recognized him from a handful of previous visits and quickly acted to get the door open. “Welcome, Master ……Sylus.”

Sylus tried not to visibly cringe at the greeting because he was no ones’ master nor did he ever hope to be. To call another person “Master” or “Mistress” beyond the context of jest or flattery, is to place them on a higher level than yourself, diminishing your own value as a sentient being. But this visit to Dojo Darelir was for something important, so Sylus did not bother to correct the guard on what title to call him. “The Master in the Library.” She went on to inform him, stepping forward as if to escort him.

“Thank you, but I know the way.” He stopped her with a slight smile and a nod of thanks to accompany his words as he walked down the path. Sylus hoped that he remembered where the Library was anyway, because it had been a number of months since his last visit. To his relief, given the time constraint on this trip to the surface, he found his way to the Library quickly as it sat adjacent to the dojo proper. Ever the polite one, he stopped just before the door and straightened himself out, drawing on more of his physical form in that dark and distant place and knocked once on the door.
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The loud screech of rusted iron pulled him from these thoughts as footsteps announced arrival of Queen Bitch of the vampires. Back against the wall he kept amber hues on the ground just beyond his feet, using ebony locks as a curtain to cover his eyes.

Keeping his head down the only thing he saw of her as the cell door swung open were the three inch heeled pumps on her feet and the lower hem of a dress the color of the deepest jade. Without touching it Sylus could not be sure if it was silk or satin, though it did not truly matter. Releasing a tired sigh, head began to lift up and let eyes wander up her tall frame to focus on her lips. For only a fool looks a vampire in the eyes. It is wisest to concentrate on their mouth, chest or forehead depending on their height and/or if the opportunity to run did not present itself.

[Sylus Kurgen]

((The ritual and certain events that will take place in the following posts are of an interpretive view on how vampires bind their human servantsm found in the Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter novels. ))

[Sylus Kurgen]

“I have a surprise for you my pet.” Her tone and those words couldn’t have sounded more ominous. A pair of guards hauled him up, making sure to bruise his back with a meeting against the cell wall, and bound his wrists with a set of silver shackles.

Sylus made sure not to give them the satisfaction of just how much that hurt. All they got from him was a grunt and a slowly released breath. For three months and a half months, fifteen hours, and twenty-three minutes this his life has been a skipping record. Day in and day out he’d received the same treatment. But at least Rayven had stopped trying to break him personally, that alone was a godsend.

So close to the finish-line he would not trip now. Marching out of the cell, those dark amber hues didn’t even so much as move in the direction of where he hid the arrow. Sylus didn’t even think about it. Head held high, shoulders squared, the only thing on the Kurgens’ mind was quiet defiance as he walked down the hall. Taking the firm shoves from the guards at his back in stride he strode down that long hallway to the fate Rayven Altrua had in store for him.

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Shadow-flesh solidified just a touch more as he pushed the door open after Xenograg bade him to enter the Library. Seeing who it was at the door the old general was up and moving towards the young man. “It is you. Good. “Stepping closer, Xeno put his hand on the doorknob. “Here, I will get the door for you.” Closing the door behind Sylus’ projection, General Xenograg cut straight to the heart of this meeting. “How long do we have?”

It took Sylus a moment to answer his mentor’s question as the lighting in the room made him flicker and draw on more of his physical body to remain in his current state of being against the light. “We have an hour…maybe less.” The shadow-wraith had to pause for a moment, mind falling back to that faraway cell to check on things before continuing. “Lately the beatings and other more unpleasant things have been coming more erratic. No pattern to it at all.” Eyes getting thoughtful, Xenograg only nodded and pursed his lips. “Can you take anything back with you?” Sylus had to pause and think on that one, his mind going back to the narrow crack in his cell that wound its way to the surface like a dried up river. “I should be able to, but it would have to be small. There is small crack in the one wall of my cell about the size of a dagger handle. It’s how I’ve been getting to the surface when I can’t just materialize elsewhere.” His mind jumped forward a bit, trying to follow the older mans’ train of thought.

“Will a single arrow do?” Having walked over and picked up a small arrow Xeno turned to show it to Sylus for inspection. “Alright, a weapon, that’ll be useful.” Ebony locks fall as Sy nodded in approval. Thoughts of what he could do the next time guards came to visit him in his cell. Xenograg had another idea. “That’s not its purpose. I use arrows as foci for directional spells. Sylus’ real hand snapped it’s fingers back in his cell while the projection just smiled. “Thought as much. But you can’t blame me for having such thoughts.”

“If you wish a weapon” Xenograg continued as he took a seat in one of the chairs. “I might be able to miniaturize a sword for you.” On the small table beside his chair the general picked up a small, but fine bladed, carving knife and began to etch symbols into the arrow’s shaft. “I don’t want to jeopardize the rescue. Just bring a decent set of scimitars with you.” Shaking his head with a small smile on his lips, Sylus watched the man work. Mind totally devoted to the work at hand, the only indication Xenograg gave that he heard the other man’s words was a statement that he would be done in a few minutes.

[Sylus Kurgen]

“Only a few minutes more, my pet.” She hung on his arm as if he belonged to her like some intended suitor. With each step down every twisting hall the alarms in his head that something was not right roared ever louder.

Guards in front of them and several at their backs, Sylus knew that escape would be futile. All he could do was walk and endure her attempts to nettle emotions out of him. Ignoring the little pecks to his cheek, the soft nuzzles to his neck, and the occasional nibble to his ear, because something about all of this was not right. Then he saw that they had walked right passed the door to the usual torture room.

“I think we missed our stop.” Eyes jump to Rayven suspiciously as the “gathering” continued to walk along the serpentine halls of the complex called Daemon Hall. Several other vampires joined them during that long walk. Each giving him a knowing look and a sinister smile as they fell in line behind the guards at his back. Not a single one of the vampires showed any fang when they smiled. This told Sylus that they all had been dead for more than a century or two, only rookie vampires flashed fang when they smiled. “Torturous pleasure is not on the agenda today, my pet. I have something much more precious in mind for you, certainly hope you appreciate the gesture when everything is all said and done.” A soft grunt was the only answer she received as he took to staring ahead of him and not looking at any of the other fang-faces that passed them by to fall in line behind the circle of guards.

Rounding a final corner, he was led into one of the larger dining halls. Its ceiling decorated with a spattering of stalactites and shadows reaching down like the maw of some great beast. A sea of long wooden tables stood in neat lines across the floor, rough hewn benches running along the sides. More than a dozen paces from the tables, at the front of the chamber, a raised dais had been erected and upon it sat a black throne. Striding away from his side, Rayven moved passed the tables and motioned for those already gathered here to stand and be silent. Her upraised hand then motioned in his direction and at an unspoken command the guards pushed him in towards the dais, tips of swords quickly replacing the roughness of a gauntlet covered hand. Closing his eyes, Sylus moved towards the steps, hopes falling.
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Hand lifting the arrow up for his inspection, Xenograg wasn’t smiling when he mentioned that the fun part was coming up. Arrow held point down in his right hand the head was leveled two inches above the soft underside of his left forearm. Jaw set, Xeno took deep breath before jabbing the point into the flesh of his arm, nor more than an inch. Sylus had to cover a wince at this part of the spell, arrows always hurt on the way in, and on the way out. But nothing more was said as ashen eyes watched in silence, letting his mentor continue.

Xenograg pulled the arrow slowly from the wound, seems he wanted to keep blood on the head. “No need to involve the barbs for this…” He could only laugh as it seemed Xeno could still crack a joke or two at the situation. Freed from the wound, the General changed his grip to hold the arrow point up, letting the blood ooze down along the head and then down the shaft.