The eagles, summoned by Sanria and the beast's grow spawn, dived as Velentham gloated. The talons tore into his arms and his cheek, making him bleed heavily. He sent a powerful spell into one, bursting the bird into feathers while the other soared back up into the sky, singed but otherwise unwounded. As the remaining two trees closed in on him, Velentham teleported to Orn's side, antagonizing the boy. "You've got your good old dad back," he whispered, and was rewarded with a swift hit from Orn's staff.
Velentham staggered to the side, growling. It was too much, the weather was revealing his position, the birds diving, the trees charging, the roots seeking - and then the druids of the grove sending swarms of hungry insects in his direction.
He had Kaliadra once more, planning to torture her further, but the congolmerate of circumstances was too much for him. He dropped her on the ground, breaking her neck. He sent forth a volley of curses before stepping back from the insects in a hurry. "I will be back for you... I'll be back Gilean! I'll find the necklace, do you hear? And when I do, I'll be gone as will my bride!"
In a rage, Velentham disappeared, inwardly cursing the fact that after all of that, he still hadn't gotten his cousin to leave the confines of the ward. He appeared in the center of the inn room, bleeding, and wounded, his eyes glowing ferociously and looked at the shock on Sanria's face with a sense of jealously guarded pride.
Enforcing Memories
The sudden sensation of Sanria's blood caused a tingle at the back of Velentham's neck, and he stood straighter, dread rippling through him at the idea that she had escaped. The dread was soon replaced by the deep grin on his face. "I sense a tiny bit of Sanria here, cousin."
"Sanria is wherever you have taken her. Somewhere she doesn't want to be. Now return her!"
"I sense her blood, and since she is not with us, do you know what that means? You must have called out for help, my dear cousin... Come out, boy. I can almost smell you. Come out and let's talk, shall we?"
Velentham drew the elf to his leg, gripping her neck, holding onto her like a limp doll. She was his key to fleshing out the hidden bodies in the wood, and he could sense them all, lying in wait, hoping to best him. Unlikely.
Three trees ripped their roots from the ground and charged him, and Velentham dropped his toy and shot out a ray of energy, exploding one of the trees into nothing more than splinters and leaves that showered the glade. As that happened, he barely evaded yet another ray of light by his cousin, the energy searing the back of his shirt. This was not the way this was supposed to be.
He shielded himself, avoiding a crushing blow from one of the remaining trees, and vanished amidst Gilean's cry, "Velentham, give up. you can't win. Where is she?" Colin came charging, and Velentham took the opportunity to throw the girl at him. He had dealt with this lumbering animal before, and he reached into Colin's mind, paralyzing him. He had planned on destroying the man, but what he found, Velentham couldn't have plotted it better.
"Oh... this... he doesn't remember?"
The rains began to pour from the spell cast by Sanria's son, Orn, drenching Velentham and revealing his invisible form through the dripping of water. Nothing could stop the forward momentum. "Cousin! You say I'm a monster? What do you say - a man who uses the disadvantage of another to marry his wife?"
"Leave him, Velentham!" And Gilean sent forth another blast of light. Velentham sidestepped the ray and grinned. "What do you say? Let's let him remember, shall we?!"
"No!" Gilean yelled.
Velentham went into the brute's mind, finding that in certain places, the meddling Rilmani had kept him from remembering his past. Blocks were everywhere in Colin's mental pathways, blocks that for an experienced mindwalker were mere motes of dust. Velentham ripped away the veil that had blocked Colin's thoughts for so long and let forth a booming laugh of triumph.
"Sanria is wherever you have taken her. Somewhere she doesn't want to be. Now return her!"
"I sense her blood, and since she is not with us, do you know what that means? You must have called out for help, my dear cousin... Come out, boy. I can almost smell you. Come out and let's talk, shall we?"
Velentham drew the elf to his leg, gripping her neck, holding onto her like a limp doll. She was his key to fleshing out the hidden bodies in the wood, and he could sense them all, lying in wait, hoping to best him. Unlikely.
Three trees ripped their roots from the ground and charged him, and Velentham dropped his toy and shot out a ray of energy, exploding one of the trees into nothing more than splinters and leaves that showered the glade. As that happened, he barely evaded yet another ray of light by his cousin, the energy searing the back of his shirt. This was not the way this was supposed to be.
He shielded himself, avoiding a crushing blow from one of the remaining trees, and vanished amidst Gilean's cry, "Velentham, give up. you can't win. Where is she?" Colin came charging, and Velentham took the opportunity to throw the girl at him. He had dealt with this lumbering animal before, and he reached into Colin's mind, paralyzing him. He had planned on destroying the man, but what he found, Velentham couldn't have plotted it better.
"Oh... this... he doesn't remember?"
The rains began to pour from the spell cast by Sanria's son, Orn, drenching Velentham and revealing his invisible form through the dripping of water. Nothing could stop the forward momentum. "Cousin! You say I'm a monster? What do you say - a man who uses the disadvantage of another to marry his wife?"
"Leave him, Velentham!" And Gilean sent forth another blast of light. Velentham sidestepped the ray and grinned. "What do you say? Let's let him remember, shall we?!"
"No!" Gilean yelled.
Velentham went into the brute's mind, finding that in certain places, the meddling Rilmani had kept him from remembering his past. Blocks were everywhere in Colin's mental pathways, blocks that for an experienced mindwalker were mere motes of dust. Velentham ripped away the veil that had blocked Colin's thoughts for so long and let forth a booming laugh of triumph.
Baiting Gilean
It didn't take long for Gilean to come to the door of the cottage. With as loud as Velentham bellowed, the dead might have woken. It didn't matter. Within him was a rage so pure it was distilled into single pointed focus. A burning desire to crush his cousin once and for all. "Where is she?" the cuckold asked from the doorway, and Velentham sizzled.
"You don't question me. I'm here for answers. Where is the necklace?"
"No. You took her," Gilean said. "She doesn't want to be with you. Now where is she Velentham?"
Velentham could taste the bitterness of bile in the back of his throat. He wanted at Gilean, but he couldn't pass through the ward on the cottage. He couldn't reach the man before him, and it sent him pacing, flexing his hands. Just one shot. "Come out here, come here, Gilean."
"I'm not stupid," Gilean said. "But perhaps you are. No, deluded. You can't even seen how plainly she doesn't want to be with you. Give this up."
"I killed your baby, Gilean." Velentham's face turned up into a demented grin as he watched his cousin's expression change. "I snuffed its life right out of its mother's womb. I crushed it with my magic as though my bare hands."
"No..." Gilean said, and Velentham saw just how hard the lesser Celestial was fighting to stay in that doorway. He had to draw him out. "Then I took the memory from her, she doesn't even know it's missing. I ripped it from her while I had myself inside of her, can you believe it? While I made love to her, I took what was yours twice over."
Gilean shot a ray of light in his direction, and with a laugh, Velentham side-stepped the blaze. He laughed and felt the joy of causing his cousin agony. He grinned as Gilean went to his knee, his face full of anguish. Still - the half-breed remained behind the ward. Velentham would have to try a different tack. "I always get what I want," he said. "Listen to yourself, bragging of your depravity. What would your father say to hear this?"
Velentham then reached through the fabric of time and space, pulling the elf through and dropping her on the ground. "He would say to give me what I want."
"You bloodthirsty idiot! If she dies, Sanria dies!" Velentham smiled. "Then you'd better start talking, Gilean."
Velentham felt the joy once more wash over him. He was delighted that his weakling cousin didn't know the spell he had placed on Kaliadra. He would do his worst to the elf to draw out his quarry and she would remain alive. "Come, Gilean. Come out here so I can have a look into that head of yours."
"Look into your own Velentham. Face the truth that is there. She doesn't want to be with you. She has rejected you time and again. She fears you, despises you. Let her go. End this."
Rejection. Fear. Velentham scowled deeply, all pretenses of his teasing nature gone. He woke Kaliadra and lifted her arm. In one swift movement, he brought her arm down over his knee, snapping the bone in two and sending the elf into howls of pain. "Come. Here. Gilean," he said, his face filled with nothing more than the desire to rip his cousin into pieces.
"You don't question me. I'm here for answers. Where is the necklace?"
"No. You took her," Gilean said. "She doesn't want to be with you. Now where is she Velentham?"
Velentham could taste the bitterness of bile in the back of his throat. He wanted at Gilean, but he couldn't pass through the ward on the cottage. He couldn't reach the man before him, and it sent him pacing, flexing his hands. Just one shot. "Come out here, come here, Gilean."
"I'm not stupid," Gilean said. "But perhaps you are. No, deluded. You can't even seen how plainly she doesn't want to be with you. Give this up."
"I killed your baby, Gilean." Velentham's face turned up into a demented grin as he watched his cousin's expression change. "I snuffed its life right out of its mother's womb. I crushed it with my magic as though my bare hands."
"No..." Gilean said, and Velentham saw just how hard the lesser Celestial was fighting to stay in that doorway. He had to draw him out. "Then I took the memory from her, she doesn't even know it's missing. I ripped it from her while I had myself inside of her, can you believe it? While I made love to her, I took what was yours twice over."
Gilean shot a ray of light in his direction, and with a laugh, Velentham side-stepped the blaze. He laughed and felt the joy of causing his cousin agony. He grinned as Gilean went to his knee, his face full of anguish. Still - the half-breed remained behind the ward. Velentham would have to try a different tack. "I always get what I want," he said. "Listen to yourself, bragging of your depravity. What would your father say to hear this?"
Velentham then reached through the fabric of time and space, pulling the elf through and dropping her on the ground. "He would say to give me what I want."
"You bloodthirsty idiot! If she dies, Sanria dies!" Velentham smiled. "Then you'd better start talking, Gilean."
Velentham felt the joy once more wash over him. He was delighted that his weakling cousin didn't know the spell he had placed on Kaliadra. He would do his worst to the elf to draw out his quarry and she would remain alive. "Come, Gilean. Come out here so I can have a look into that head of yours."
"Look into your own Velentham. Face the truth that is there. She doesn't want to be with you. She has rejected you time and again. She fears you, despises you. Let her go. End this."
Rejection. Fear. Velentham scowled deeply, all pretenses of his teasing nature gone. He woke Kaliadra and lifted her arm. In one swift movement, he brought her arm down over his knee, snapping the bone in two and sending the elf into howls of pain. "Come. Here. Gilean," he said, his face filled with nothing more than the desire to rip his cousin into pieces.
Beating the Brush
It was unbelievable, how simple it was to track down the elven woman in wolf form. He put out the signature of Sanria's mind, using it as a hunter would a duck call, all while seeking the sensation of Kaliadra's mind. In no time, he honed in on the tremor and zeroed in. The wolf looked shocked to see him, then he saw the recognition in her eyes, then he grew violently angry as she ran. He used magic to snatch her four feet from the ground, then went into her mind easily and found the key to force her into her elven form. He refused to talk to a mangy dog.
He questioned her relentlessly, and as she refused to tell the truth, he started the torture. A tiny part of him, so small it was nearly unheard, said what he was doing was not right - his nature was higher than this - but he couldn't hear the voice any longer. He had been away from home for far too long. He bent the elf, literally, to his will. Still, she kept from answering outright. He refused to believe she knew nothing. Finally, he threatened her life. "I. Will. Kill. You." And when she replied that it would end Sanria's life, Velentham lost all sanity.
He plunged into her mind, recklessly prying her memories apart with desperation. He cared little for the memories of her people, her prayers to Sune, her lack of lust, her giving up on love, her hunts by the moonlight - he went to the time of isolation, the time when her mental frequencies matched his own, and absorbed into himself every line ever written in the diary, every word chanted, every bit of knowledge the elf held in her mind. "What about her..." the elf asked after he had raped her mind. "What does she want?"
"She doesn't know what she wants, I do. I know what is right. I guide her now. For that, she'll live eternally."
"In misery."
The comment sent Velentham into a rage. Coupled with the frothing madness that was now driving him, he flung the elf as hard as he could from him, and was rewarded by the sound of her back snapping against the thick trunk of a pine. He uttered a spell, one that would keep her alive, thereby keeping Sanria alive... but he did nothing to ease the pain, he didn't care.
His insanity was beyond control, his eyes glowed silver with crazed determination. He was so close to getting off this rock, so close to getting back home, and it splintered through his mind like needles. "GILEAN!" he roared. "GET OUT HERE, YOU HAVE SOMETHING I NEED!" He flexed his hands, he paced the ground. Velentham didn't care who heard him now, he didn't care who might come at him. He had all the information he needed to operate the necklace - he only needed to break the skull of his cousin to find the resting place of the item that would deliver him home.
He questioned her relentlessly, and as she refused to tell the truth, he started the torture. A tiny part of him, so small it was nearly unheard, said what he was doing was not right - his nature was higher than this - but he couldn't hear the voice any longer. He had been away from home for far too long. He bent the elf, literally, to his will. Still, she kept from answering outright. He refused to believe she knew nothing. Finally, he threatened her life. "I. Will. Kill. You." And when she replied that it would end Sanria's life, Velentham lost all sanity.
He plunged into her mind, recklessly prying her memories apart with desperation. He cared little for the memories of her people, her prayers to Sune, her lack of lust, her giving up on love, her hunts by the moonlight - he went to the time of isolation, the time when her mental frequencies matched his own, and absorbed into himself every line ever written in the diary, every word chanted, every bit of knowledge the elf held in her mind. "What about her..." the elf asked after he had raped her mind. "What does she want?"
"She doesn't know what she wants, I do. I know what is right. I guide her now. For that, she'll live eternally."
"In misery."
The comment sent Velentham into a rage. Coupled with the frothing madness that was now driving him, he flung the elf as hard as he could from him, and was rewarded by the sound of her back snapping against the thick trunk of a pine. He uttered a spell, one that would keep her alive, thereby keeping Sanria alive... but he did nothing to ease the pain, he didn't care.
His insanity was beyond control, his eyes glowed silver with crazed determination. He was so close to getting off this rock, so close to getting back home, and it splintered through his mind like needles. "GILEAN!" he roared. "GET OUT HERE, YOU HAVE SOMETHING I NEED!" He flexed his hands, he paced the ground. Velentham didn't care who heard him now, he didn't care who might come at him. He had all the information he needed to operate the necklace - he only needed to break the skull of his cousin to find the resting place of the item that would deliver him home.
Loba Loca
"That's all I can tell you, I swear it." She was held in midair, her back arched as the magic coursed through her, forcing her to stretch, forcing her spine to rub against itself, bones grinding. "I gave it to them willingly." "I don't believe you," he said, forcing her to arch more.
"An arcanist never gives up their work. Never."
"Please..."
Kaliadra felt herself dropped to the ground where she hit and knocked the air from her lungs. She rolled over, her arms trembling, and coughed until the iron taste of blood filled her mouth. "So you gave one to my cousin and there was another... where is it?"
"I don't know."
The electric fire went into Kaliadra's chest and slammed her body against a tree. The explosion of stars in her eyesight filled her vision before they faded. "You know something and you're going to tell me, elf. What you are doing is wrong, keeping me from going home, keeping me from taking my bride."
"I've told you all I know... I left once we brought her back... I willingly walked away... to do that kind of research was dangerous and caused me to take... a life."
"You traversed the planes with a trinket of tremendous power, you LEARNED how to do it. Tell me how."
"No..."
The breath felt as though it was squeezed out of her as Kaliadra flew through the air to be face to face with Velentham. "I. Will. Kill. You." he snarled. "Then you will kill her."
His eyes flared silver, he scowled, then Kaliadra could feel the tendrils snaking through her mind. She was utterly helpless, her magic no match for the skill of the one reading her mind freely. The tendrils were heavy, as though uncaring for what memories they might ransack in the search of information. Part of her hoped Velentham might take her life. The other part could feel the desperation that filled Velentham's body. She saw his mouth twitch as he looked at her once more. "I'll find this necklace and when I do... I'm going to use it."
"What about her... what does she want?"
"She doesn't know what she wants, I do. I know what is right. I guide her now. For that, she'll live eternally."
"In misery," Kaliadra said, and for her insolence, she found herself flung through the forest. This time, the tree she hit audibly cracked her back. The sensation in her legs was gone as suddenly as a lightning strike. Then, darkness overcame her.
"An arcanist never gives up their work. Never."
"Please..."
Kaliadra felt herself dropped to the ground where she hit and knocked the air from her lungs. She rolled over, her arms trembling, and coughed until the iron taste of blood filled her mouth. "So you gave one to my cousin and there was another... where is it?"
"I don't know."
The electric fire went into Kaliadra's chest and slammed her body against a tree. The explosion of stars in her eyesight filled her vision before they faded. "You know something and you're going to tell me, elf. What you are doing is wrong, keeping me from going home, keeping me from taking my bride."
"I've told you all I know... I left once we brought her back... I willingly walked away... to do that kind of research was dangerous and caused me to take... a life."
"You traversed the planes with a trinket of tremendous power, you LEARNED how to do it. Tell me how."
"No..."
The breath felt as though it was squeezed out of her as Kaliadra flew through the air to be face to face with Velentham. "I. Will. Kill. You." he snarled. "Then you will kill her."
His eyes flared silver, he scowled, then Kaliadra could feel the tendrils snaking through her mind. She was utterly helpless, her magic no match for the skill of the one reading her mind freely. The tendrils were heavy, as though uncaring for what memories they might ransack in the search of information. Part of her hoped Velentham might take her life. The other part could feel the desperation that filled Velentham's body. She saw his mouth twitch as he looked at her once more. "I'll find this necklace and when I do... I'm going to use it."
"What about her... what does she want?"
"She doesn't know what she wants, I do. I know what is right. I guide her now. For that, she'll live eternally."
"In misery," Kaliadra said, and for her insolence, she found herself flung through the forest. This time, the tree she hit audibly cracked her back. The sensation in her legs was gone as suddenly as a lightning strike. Then, darkness overcame her.
Wayfinding
Orn sat at the desk in his newly allocated office within the Keepers clan hall. He thumbed through a large leather-bound tome, one of several he had stacked upon his desk, all relating to Ragnarok in one way or another. He wasn't finding much useful and most of the information he did uncover seemed speculative and contradictory. He was beginning to wonder if anyone really knew much about the Rok at all.
The going had been slow. Book research was never particularly one of his strengths. His mother could have probably poured through all of these tomes in one day but Orn had always preferred being active and outdoors as opposed to spending time in a library. At this point, the best he had been able to glean from most opinions were that travel to the Rok was difficult and hazardous, if not impossible, and that survivability upon the surface was slim to none. Orn didn't quite understand the varying theories as to why, words ranging from weave distortion to gravity compression to makou density interference, but those two facts seemed rather consistent.
It was all so frustrating. Enmach had essentially confirmed that Velentham was holding his mother there and it was starting to seem that perhaps that was a feat which could only be accomplished by something as powerful as a full Celestial wizard. Orn would love to ask more questions of Enmach but he hadn't seen her about and he was pretty sure she was avoiding him. He couldn't blame her though. He knew she hadjeopardized her position among her people by guiding him originally and he couldn't guarantee if he were able to pin her down that he wouldn't push her for even more information.
Orn was going to need help from elsewhere if he were to find his mother. He hadn't told Gilean the news about the Ragnarok. The last he had spoken to Gilean the priest looked especially troubled and Orn worried that news of such a remote captivity without a proposed solution might push him even deeper into despair. No, Orn would need someone else.
There was only one person he could think of that might be able to draw enough power to somehow make a trip to the Rok. A man who had once brought Orn back from certain death and ostensibly could tap into the very life of the planet if needed. Orn would seek out Thasmudyan, share his findings, and hope that there was some way to reach his mom.
The going had been slow. Book research was never particularly one of his strengths. His mother could have probably poured through all of these tomes in one day but Orn had always preferred being active and outdoors as opposed to spending time in a library. At this point, the best he had been able to glean from most opinions were that travel to the Rok was difficult and hazardous, if not impossible, and that survivability upon the surface was slim to none. Orn didn't quite understand the varying theories as to why, words ranging from weave distortion to gravity compression to makou density interference, but those two facts seemed rather consistent.
It was all so frustrating. Enmach had essentially confirmed that Velentham was holding his mother there and it was starting to seem that perhaps that was a feat which could only be accomplished by something as powerful as a full Celestial wizard. Orn would love to ask more questions of Enmach but he hadn't seen her about and he was pretty sure she was avoiding him. He couldn't blame her though. He knew she hadjeopardized her position among her people by guiding him originally and he couldn't guarantee if he were able to pin her down that he wouldn't push her for even more information.
Orn was going to need help from elsewhere if he were to find his mother. He hadn't told Gilean the news about the Ragnarok. The last he had spoken to Gilean the priest looked especially troubled and Orn worried that news of such a remote captivity without a proposed solution might push him even deeper into despair. No, Orn would need someone else.
There was only one person he could think of that might be able to draw enough power to somehow make a trip to the Rok. A man who had once brought Orn back from certain death and ostensibly could tap into the very life of the planet if needed. Orn would seek out Thasmudyan, share his findings, and hope that there was some way to reach his mom.
Drowning
Gilean stirred in his bed only enough to roll over. Sunlight streamed into the room from the windows but he simply shut his eyes against the unwanted glare. How many days had it been since Velentham had taken Sanria? A week? Two? He didn't even know anymore. The days blurred into nights into more days and all the while it felt more and more hopeless.
Initially he had been adamant. He was going to find her and get her back. He had recruited others to help him once she was found - Orn and Colin. He had intended to even visit Ror and ask for his assistance but somewhere along the way Gilean began to lose hope. How many days had Velentham had to work on Sanria's mind? His cousin held a talent for manipulating the thoughts and memories of others and Gilean found it harder and harder to hold out hope that Sanria would even still know him if he were to find her. His mind tormented him more and more of a scenario where he somehow found her, somehow was able to overcome his cousin, and afterward Sanria just looked at him blankly, or worse, pleaded for him to leave her and her true love Velentham alone.
Gilean shut his eyes a bit tighter as a lone tear rolled down onto his pillow. It was all just too much. The truth was he didn't even have a way to find her. Once again he found himself alone and helpless to do anything about it. Maybe this was his lot. Some kind of punishment for previous wrongdoings. Maybe this was what he deserved.
Gilean pulled the covers tighter around himself and sunk deeper into despair.
Initially he had been adamant. He was going to find her and get her back. He had recruited others to help him once she was found - Orn and Colin. He had intended to even visit Ror and ask for his assistance but somewhere along the way Gilean began to lose hope. How many days had Velentham had to work on Sanria's mind? His cousin held a talent for manipulating the thoughts and memories of others and Gilean found it harder and harder to hold out hope that Sanria would even still know him if he were to find her. His mind tormented him more and more of a scenario where he somehow found her, somehow was able to overcome his cousin, and afterward Sanria just looked at him blankly, or worse, pleaded for him to leave her and her true love Velentham alone.
Gilean shut his eyes a bit tighter as a lone tear rolled down onto his pillow. It was all just too much. The truth was he didn't even have a way to find her. Once again he found himself alone and helpless to do anything about it. Maybe this was his lot. Some kind of punishment for previous wrongdoings. Maybe this was what he deserved.
Gilean pulled the covers tighter around himself and sunk deeper into despair.
Begging for Light
Sanria stared at the place where Velentham had vanished for a long time. There was something amiss. She thought back but there were vacancies in her mind, things she knew should be there but weren't. Blurry memories, as though seen through the bottom of a thick glass. Things she should be capable of making out. She glared at the books beside her, books Velentham had created for her, tea Velentham had made for her, the tea pot Velentham had given her... she shoved them to the floor. She didn't want this. She didn't want *him*.
Sanria got up and started pacing, it was the only thing she could do while he was gone. She was a prisoner in an inn room and only when he wasn't there did she feel what was the truth. Whenever he was around, she was confused - upset one moment, happy the next. Whenever his hand came near her face when she was in disagreement, she suddenly couldn't remember why she was disagreeable. She wanted to leave him, to be on her own, but he wouldn't allow it. He controlled every move she made and there was no reason Sanria could figure out. It was hidden behind the thick fog of her mind - completely out of reach.
Sanria went to the window and tried to open it, but the magical barrier flared a bright cyan color. The entire room was warded, and she had no magic. How... how was it that she had no magic? It was Velentham. She knew it. She brought it up, and he told her it was because she had no need for it. He would take care of everything. He would ensure she had everything she needed. Sanria knew without a doubt that he wanted nothing more than to be her sun, her moon, her stars, her nature, her - her God. Yes... as if he wanted nothing more than her adoration and worship. As if he wanted her very soul.
Sanria let out a scream of frustration, knowing no one would hear her beyond the barrier. She cried and sobbed, then went to the water basin and feverishly tried to rid her face of any trace of tears. If Velentham came back and saw that she was upset, the next time he left, he'd put her to sleep. He'd keep her from even being angry, upset, or being able to have her own thoughts. They were the only things she had, and she only had them when he wasn't around. This wasn't right, but Sanria could only sit on the bed, lifting a book from the floor to read, until her captor returned to narrow the scope of her mind.
Sanria got up and started pacing, it was the only thing she could do while he was gone. She was a prisoner in an inn room and only when he wasn't there did she feel what was the truth. Whenever he was around, she was confused - upset one moment, happy the next. Whenever his hand came near her face when she was in disagreement, she suddenly couldn't remember why she was disagreeable. She wanted to leave him, to be on her own, but he wouldn't allow it. He controlled every move she made and there was no reason Sanria could figure out. It was hidden behind the thick fog of her mind - completely out of reach.
Sanria went to the window and tried to open it, but the magical barrier flared a bright cyan color. The entire room was warded, and she had no magic. How... how was it that she had no magic? It was Velentham. She knew it. She brought it up, and he told her it was because she had no need for it. He would take care of everything. He would ensure she had everything she needed. Sanria knew without a doubt that he wanted nothing more than to be her sun, her moon, her stars, her nature, her - her God. Yes... as if he wanted nothing more than her adoration and worship. As if he wanted her very soul.
Sanria let out a scream of frustration, knowing no one would hear her beyond the barrier. She cried and sobbed, then went to the water basin and feverishly tried to rid her face of any trace of tears. If Velentham came back and saw that she was upset, the next time he left, he'd put her to sleep. He'd keep her from even being angry, upset, or being able to have her own thoughts. They were the only things she had, and she only had them when he wasn't around. This wasn't right, but Sanria could only sit on the bed, lifting a book from the floor to read, until her captor returned to narrow the scope of her mind.
The Family Feast
The storm was loud outside, but the ruckus happening in the kitchen is even louder, soup bubbles can be heard popping and boiling, the oven is hissing out weird noises as steam bellows from its creaks. The frying wok can be heard loud as fuck as flames rose to the air. In the middle of this chaos, stands Shandelzare, her hands filled with utensils as she tries to finish this feast in time for her guests. Her pet Earth Elemental, holding on to gizards, innards, liver and hearts of a slayed creature in its hands, almost oblivious to what is happening around him, is obviously of no use to assisting Shandelzare.
Outside, Phonzy lies behind his chair with legs on the table, grumbling to himself, "When the fuck is Stephy arriving? The food smells sooo good!"
"Yeah, I'm starving!" says Xeptimus, stretching his arms into
"Be patient guys!" says Serth, the ever elegent strider, who was the only one actually helping Shandelzare arrange the utensils, forks and knives on the dinner table.
*Knock Knock*
"That must be Stephy." says Serth.
It was indeed! Their favourite friend, Stephy the Lich. "Boy oh boy, I can smell the delicious-ness of the food in the air already!" says an excited Stephy. "One cannot deny, it is a lich's favourite this recipe of Shandelzare's!"
"IT'S READY!" screamed Shandelzare from the kitchen and all of them lit up with a smile when they heard those words which brought joys to their ears.
Shandelzare came out of the kitchen with a big bowl almost half her size in her hands, a blackish brown sauce, boiling and bubbling, with meat and bones floating on it's surface was in it. Shandelzare sets it on the table, and before she can even scoop a bowl for herself, everyone dug in!
"YUM YUM!" says Phonzy, tasting this dish for the first time. "What the fuck is in it? It's so...delicious."
"Ahh, nothing much...just the brains and hearts of the 231 slayed Radiant Heart soldiers from hunting this morning..." says Shandelzare.
And with that, they all laughed into the night feeling happy and contented of their labours of the day.
What a happy family indeed.
Outside, Phonzy lies behind his chair with legs on the table, grumbling to himself, "When the fuck is Stephy arriving? The food smells sooo good!"
"Yeah, I'm starving!" says Xeptimus, stretching his arms into
"Be patient guys!" says Serth, the ever elegent strider, who was the only one actually helping Shandelzare arrange the utensils, forks and knives on the dinner table.
*Knock Knock*
"That must be Stephy." says Serth.
It was indeed! Their favourite friend, Stephy the Lich. "Boy oh boy, I can smell the delicious-ness of the food in the air already!" says an excited Stephy. "One cannot deny, it is a lich's favourite this recipe of Shandelzare's!"
"IT'S READY!" screamed Shandelzare from the kitchen and all of them lit up with a smile when they heard those words which brought joys to their ears.
Shandelzare came out of the kitchen with a big bowl almost half her size in her hands, a blackish brown sauce, boiling and bubbling, with meat and bones floating on it's surface was in it. Shandelzare sets it on the table, and before she can even scoop a bowl for herself, everyone dug in!
"YUM YUM!" says Phonzy, tasting this dish for the first time. "What the fuck is in it? It's so...delicious."
"Ahh, nothing much...just the brains and hearts of the 231 slayed Radiant Heart soldiers from hunting this morning..." says Shandelzare.
And with that, they all laughed into the night feeling happy and contented of their labours of the day.
What a happy family indeed.
Mistaken Identity
I am one with this wood. I smell like the trees, I rub on their trunks, they smell like me. The hares know nothing, and I take no delight in watching their eyes widen in fear and then dim as death swiftly carries them away. I feel their hearts beating furiously as they hang in my jaws, I bless their sacrifice, I consume their warm flesh.
I do not remember how many moons have passed through the boughs of the forest since my last encounter, but I sense the painmaker hastening through the wood once more. I want to run, to outpace her, to stay hidden - but time the last she had urgency and my heart was torn. Perhaps I will listen once more to her tale of woe, give what aid I deem necessary, and keep to the wood. I have not done well in keeping myself hidden amongst the...
The scent is not the painmaker, but the sense is... something is not right. I know not what this creature is, but-
'Hold, Kaliadra...'
-It is the one from long ago. The winged one. His armor is missing. He is thin. He smells horrible... stale and burned.
'...I need your help. It's Sanria. I need to take her home.'
-I cannot fight the urge to run... I sense my mistake, I can feel the painmaker through a rush of magic... she is far away. Why is this one here...
'No. You will not run from me. You will help me, whether you wish it or not.'
-I am unable to move... magic... powerful... he's driving my own transformation... how is this possible... how...
"Now, Lady Kaliadra... you may use your tongue. Tell me, how did you get to my home. Leave no truths untold, for if I have to seek your mind, you will be punished."
"What... has happened... to you? So cruel..."
"Life. Gilean. Love. Now that you know, let's start at the beginning."
I do not remember how many moons have passed through the boughs of the forest since my last encounter, but I sense the painmaker hastening through the wood once more. I want to run, to outpace her, to stay hidden - but time the last she had urgency and my heart was torn. Perhaps I will listen once more to her tale of woe, give what aid I deem necessary, and keep to the wood. I have not done well in keeping myself hidden amongst the...
The scent is not the painmaker, but the sense is... something is not right. I know not what this creature is, but-
'Hold, Kaliadra...'
-It is the one from long ago. The winged one. His armor is missing. He is thin. He smells horrible... stale and burned.
'...I need your help. It's Sanria. I need to take her home.'
-I cannot fight the urge to run... I sense my mistake, I can feel the painmaker through a rush of magic... she is far away. Why is this one here...
'No. You will not run from me. You will help me, whether you wish it or not.'
-I am unable to move... magic... powerful... he's driving my own transformation... how is this possible... how...
"Now, Lady Kaliadra... you may use your tongue. Tell me, how did you get to my home. Leave no truths untold, for if I have to seek your mind, you will be punished."
"What... has happened... to you? So cruel..."
"Life. Gilean. Love. Now that you know, let's start at the beginning."
Hunting Solutions
He woke Sanria and looked at her. Velentham wanted nothing more than to guide her mind. She fought him so much, constantly, as though somewhere, in the back of her head, was an alarm. He knew he could remove the offense with ease, but to do so would mean he had tampered with her mind, forced her to be with him and that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted her to choose. He wanted her to love him on her own... mostly on her own. He didn't care if she forgot Gilean or the brute, Colin, or her children, or anything about where she lived. He cared that she loved him on her own... but it wasn't working the way he wanted or as fast as he wished. He was growing impatient. Soon. It had to happen soon.
He quelled his frustration and gave Sanria a smile. "My love, you remember Kaliadra."
"Of course."
"Do you know where she is?"
"She committed wolficide."
"She... what?"
"She is lyrathi... she felt so terrible for killing my baby..."
Velentham watched her eyes change and quickly he put a hand to her temple, causing her to drift back from a memory. He had done the same only days before... but he looked at it in a different way... he had killed "Gilean's" baby. He had to guide her frequently,anything to keep her from remembering him in a bad light. "So she felt badly and she turned herself into a wolf?"
"Yes," Sanria answered, placated.
"Permanently?"
"Yes. I only saw her when I went to help Colin with his fears."
"How did you find her?" he asked, ignoring the reference to the brute. "We're connected by blood. If she dies, I die, and vice versa. There is a link... she can feel things I feel, I can sense her when I get near." He smiled and touched her cheek. "How do you sense her?"
"I... don't really know. I just can."
He reached up, running his hand through her hair, all the while prying her mind, seeking a key. He honed in on the sensation Sanria used - a vibration unique to Kaliadra that Sanria could sense. He marveled at the connection created, how exquisite and small the tremor, and absorbed the memory into his own mind. Now he would be able to hunt the wolf, force her hand, and find his way home.
He quelled his frustration and gave Sanria a smile. "My love, you remember Kaliadra."
"Of course."
"Do you know where she is?"
"She committed wolficide."
"She... what?"
"She is lyrathi... she felt so terrible for killing my baby..."
Velentham watched her eyes change and quickly he put a hand to her temple, causing her to drift back from a memory. He had done the same only days before... but he looked at it in a different way... he had killed "Gilean's" baby. He had to guide her frequently,anything to keep her from remembering him in a bad light. "So she felt badly and she turned herself into a wolf?"
"Yes," Sanria answered, placated.
"Permanently?"
"Yes. I only saw her when I went to help Colin with his fears."
"How did you find her?" he asked, ignoring the reference to the brute. "We're connected by blood. If she dies, I die, and vice versa. There is a link... she can feel things I feel, I can sense her when I get near." He smiled and touched her cheek. "How do you sense her?"
"I... don't really know. I just can."
He reached up, running his hand through her hair, all the while prying her mind, seeking a key. He honed in on the sensation Sanria used - a vibration unique to Kaliadra that Sanria could sense. He marveled at the connection created, how exquisite and small the tremor, and absorbed the memory into his own mind. Now he would be able to hunt the wolf, force her hand, and find his way home.
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