Strip The Flesh, Salt The Wound

[Lye]

Strip The Flesh, Salt The Wound


Closed to Erikar and Aurelianus Drak'shal. Part one of a series.



http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs27/i/2008/111/b/7/Chamber_by_Dardagan.jpg



Fresh powder fell from the sky upon the Great White Expanse of the Skavian Wilds. Nestled somewhere in between the Terrilian Ridge and the Deepwoods, an ominous black haze blanketed the land. It was within this haze, a rumored band of talented killers, assassins, and agents of destruction resided - The Order of the Crimson Hands. At their base of operations, Black Mist Hollows, two figures trudged through the murky haze and sheets of white.

“Already in the infirmary?” Lye asked as his black boots crushed the virgin snow beneath them.

“So it seems,” the Ai’Brone, Corvanik replied in the assassin’s wake.

“The same one I witnessed drop a group of five single handed?” Beneath the crimson scarf wrapped about his face, the assassin twisted his features to a scowl.

“Erikar Aodhfionn, I believe is his name.”

“What do you know about his condition?”

“Unfortunately, very little. Seems he was in bad shape when he arrived, but I was able to mend most of the serious wounds and fractures.”

“Then why is he in the infirmary?”

“We’ve been over this. I cannot revive completely, just prevent oncoming death. The residual healing process can be excruciatingly painful.”

“Watch your tongue Corvanik. If he can walk, I don’t care about his pain,” Lye snapped, stopping at his destination.

Lye slammed both his gloved hands into the firm wooden door of the medical longhouse. As the biting Salvaran cold rushed within, so did the fur clad assassin. Wrapped in the traditional thick brown robes of the Ai’Brone, Corvanik was quick to follow. A hollow thud of wood barked into the silence and sealed the warmth from fleeing . Along the far wall, a sultry woman dressed in a tight leather bustier and fur leggings sat beside the only occupied bed. Both of the guests made their way to the soft flicker of candle light beside her. Dimly lit in the windowless structure laid a red-headed boy with covers comfortably pulled to his chin and eyes shut. The nurse, if you could call her one, immediately rose to her feet with a soft squeak. Corvanik gave her a curt bow, hands behind his back. The assassin rounded the bed to stand beside its tenant.

“Wake up!” Lye barked.

The woman jumped at the volume and set her assets into motion. Lye snapped his emerald stare to her.

“Go entertain the men in their barracks. You are not needed here,” he commanded with firm resolve.

[Erikar]

Erikar's peaceful slumber, the first in days, was shattered by the harsh wake-up call. He had been unable to sleep before, frightened into wakefulness by the possibility of another visit by the entity responsible for the damage to his prone form. Now, after the agony of his injuries had finally lulled him into dreamless rest, he had been awoken unceremoniously.

Pain lanced through his recovering body as he stretched under the heavy furs. The injuries to his pale form were the product of a battle with a dreamwalker, a harbinger of eldritch destruction. The dark entity had bested Erikar in combat, teaching him how vulnerable he truly was. The newly-initiated assassin had barely survived before being woken by Corvanik, saving his life and many of the Order's secrets.

Erikar dimly registered another order, this time directed to the alluring woman who had been watching over him while he rested. His eyelids clenched shut as he sat up in the bed. The motion sent aftershocks of pain through his body. Violent tremors racked his body as he finally opened his emerald eyes and looked up at his master. It was as though he was looking into a mirror, the viridescent eyes of his master matching his own perfectly. Gritting his teeth in an effort to halt the pain, he finally spoke.

"Greetings, Master. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Erikar asked with false sincerity. An pained grimace split his features, showcasing his missing tooth. The attempt at humor was a bit diminished by the injured look on his features and the quiver in his voice.

'This is not going to end well.. I can tell by the look on his face.' He inferred with trepidation. The Master Assassin rarely showed any emotion but anger, and so far had only spoken to him to gauge his abilities and aptitude. Lye coming here to visit him now could only mean one thing: he had a new assignment for the Initiate. One that would probably cause Erikar extreme pain and suffering. That seemed to be Lye's favorite teacher, in lieu of himself. To the youth, it mattered little. He would suffer through whatever torture the platinum-haired man had in store, if it meant becoming stronger.

At least the lessons his master taught were never forgotten.

[Lye]

"Pleasure?" Lye inquired with a brief look to Corvanik. Concern immediately flushed on the monk's face. Not a moment sooner, Lye thrust his hands under the flimsy straw mat the boy lay upon and wretched it over. Pillow, sheets, and boy alike cascaded in the tradition of a Skavian avalanche upon the cold stone floor.

"I'm not here to give you pleasure , fledgling," he hissed.

Corvanik dropped to his knees in response, and hastily tended to the boy in his weakened state.

"Did I not just finish telling you how frail he is?!" Corvanik shouted. The assassin grit his teeth at the disrespect.

"That's the sole reason I came to see him, monk," Lye seethed in return. He rounded the now barren bed frame to loom above the two. The boy held a agonized expression. He bared his teeth and winced tight to get a handle on the sudden and unexpected waves of pain.

"You see?" Lye continued, gesturing to Erikar as Corvanik righted him. "He has no threshold for pain. A lack of finesse in combat, and a headstrong approach. How can you call yourself an assassin of this Order if you're bedridden within the first week among the ranks?"

Lye scoffed and turned his back to the two. He couldn't bare to witness such coddling.

"Starting immediately, you are going to begin training." The assassin took two paces from the flicker of candlelight and deeper toward the darkness of the room. "You are going to quit this charade and learn to love the pain you're in."

Lye turned to face the two. Corvanik had just barely gotten the boy to stand. Erikar already had an intense fire brimming in his verdant gaze. Lye grinned at the determination. He would not admit is, but the boy's fire in the presence of the proposition held promise.

"Throw on some arctic wear Erikar, I'm taking you to a colleague - someone who knows how to... teach a love for pain." The assassin's sinister smile gave eerie contrast in the darkness, for only the green glimmer of his eyes and chesire grin could be seen in the flickering light.

Corvanik's eyes grew wide at the notion.

"You wouldn't be talking about the tiefling, would you?" he questioned in a waver.

"Yes, we are going to meet with Aurelianus Drak'shal..."

Erikar, find me in chat before you respond. Hopefully the bunnying is fine. If you want to add some bits into my post, send me a PM with some edits or mention it in chat.

[Erikar]

Lye cast one last disgusted look at Erikar before turning on his bladed heel and striding out the door. His crimson scarf flailed wildly as the vicious winds rushed into the open doorway, and then he was gone. The door slammed violently behind him, providing a bulwark between the room and the blistering assault of the elements outside. Erikar shivered and looked at Corvanik, arching an eyebrow at the Ai'Brone monk. His response to the young man's silent question was to turn his gaze to floor and shrug.

'Well, that's an ugly omen if I ever saw one..' Erikar inferred silently, unnerved by the glint in his master's eye as he spoke the name of their contact. It seemed almost as though Lye was excited, which could not bode well for the youth. Corvanik sighed, as if he was mirroring Erikar's thoughts, and made his plodding way to the door. However, before the old monk could reach the exit, he paused. Unable to contain his thoughts, he turned to the novice assassin.

"Lad, before you go, let me warn you - This tiefling feeds on suffering. Do not show him your pain. It will only serve to provoke him further." He wrung his hands nervously, then turned and quickly exited the longhouse.

Erikar's brow furrowed, contemplating the monk's words. He was not coming to like the sound of this Aurelianus Drak'shal. The crimson-haired man threw on his hood, then turned back to gather his gear. His sword slipped easily into its home on his back. He was as ready as he'd every be.

Erikar opened the door, nearly losing his footing from the force of the gale. He stepped out and turned to close the door, struggling against the mighty wind valiantly. When the latch finally clicked, he exhaled a steamy cloud into the sharp, howling air with with satisfaction, and turned once again to make his way to the stable where Lye waited.

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[Lye]

The blizzards and winter gales were moderate this time of year, yet their constant parade across the Great White Expanse proved brutal for anyone bold enough to travel. For Lye, these conditions had grown on him. His accomplice, Erikar, was still new to this frigid environment. Even the steeds they rode were wrapped in layers of miscellaneous animal furs to stave off the frost. Luckily, the two travelers had arrived just outside the gates of Knife's Edge - their long trek across the icy wasteland was complete.

"Oye, you two!" shouted a voice from the watchman's cabin. His bulky frame, unkempt hair, and shoddy uniform ran toward the two with hands thrust forward. "No one gets entry without statin' their business!"

Lye pulled back on his reins to halt his horse. The beast snorted out two icy clouds in protest. From the watchman's cabin another rugged guard emerged, his halberd's rear prodded at the white carpet of snow for balance as he walked. The assassin drifted his gaze from one to the other.

"We have personal business with an old friend," Lye stated vaguely.

The forward guard narrowed his eyes and nonchalantly placed his gloved hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Name and residence," he demanded. The second guard paced to the side of their horses. With pole arm in hand, his eyes carefully prodded at the equipment strapped to the horses. Lye didn't recall such vigorous security in his previous visits, especially from such unsavory individuals. Beneath the arctic furs that clothed him, the assassin gripped a blade.

"The tiefling at The House of Sin," Lye retorted just as short and blunt.

Both guards stopped in their tracks, and the assassin prepared for a fight.

"Ah, y'must be th' blokes he was on about!" chuckled the forward guard who began to grow red at the nose and cheeks in the cold. His hand fell from his sword, but Lye did not relieve his grip. The guard then brought his hand to his brow and tilted his head as though searching for something. "Lemme see... Red scarf, green eyes, piss poor attitude? That'd be th' one!"

Lye cringed. These were definitely his men. The forward guard nodded then put his fingers to pursed lips for a shrill whistle. The gates began to groan open.

"That means you too, Boston.! Let's get back to our game. It's pikin' freezin' our 'ere!"

The lancer with the pole arm loosed a deep grunt, then spit upon the ground. He never broke eye contact despite his associate's words. Though, as instructed, he trudged his way through frozen tundra back to the warm glow of the watchman's cabin.

"You blokes 'ave a good time," the forward guardsman chuckled. His tone sounded slightly sinister. Then, with a carefree expression, he vanished behind the closed doors of his cabin. His shadow danced through the window's sheer as he sat to join his mate over cards. Lye took his grip off the blade, and the gates of Knife's Edge clunked to a stop.

"Let's go," he ordered to Erikar as he snapped his reins. The horses jerked their heads and pushed onward, past the snow laden archway of the gates.

The streets rarely had many people walking in the open at high noon. The only times this changed were the three months of summer when the snow would recede just enough to allow a brief bout of spring foliage. Being only a few moons away, Lye expected more foot traffic, but the streets seemed exceptionally sparse. The two rode deeper into the town, past the many frost covered windows of the vendor shops. Vibrantly colored signs dangled from their awnings, decorated and muted by winter's kiss. The roads, usually worn onto a messy trail of mud and ice, showed less sign of traffic. That is until they arrived near their destination.

A sign, labeled "The House of Sin" stood out amongst the rest, for it seems some poor soul was in the midst of defrosting it with hot water. The building itself stood two stories taller than the single level establishments around it. Even the architecture seemed somewhat more unique than the plain counterparts. Out of all these, Lye paid most attention to the compacted snow, ice, and dirt leading directly to this one place of business.

"You've been busy Aurelius..." Lye muttered under his breath.

"Welcome, welcome!" greeted a boy no older than fifteen. "Let me tie up your horses!"

"We've got it, thanks." Lye jerked the reins from his eager grasp. The boy pressed his brow together, then returned to his post under the awning where the cold was slowly taking its toll. Lye dismounted, then wrapped tied his horse off against the posts. He noticed the clear attention to customers by the slight steam rolling off the warm trough of water by the horse's hooves. The demon's priorities showed in the way he treated clientele versus employees.

"Come, Erikar, let me introduce you to one of the few men I hold in high regard. His office is just inside."

[Erikar]

The fledling's eyes widened at Lye's last sentence; to earn the respect of the master assassin was no small feat itself. Erikar caught himself quickly, straightening his back and balling his fists as they walked past the guards. The doorway opened into a wide foyer, braziers belching a malodorous haze as women clad in tight leathers and chains catered to customers of all shapes and sizes about the room. Pictures and tapestries depicting odd, immoral scenes covered bare stone walls. Two stairways flanked a doorway at the far end of the oval foyer, with what seemed to be an observation room hanging high above on the third floor.

The doorway led to a dark hallway containing who knows what, but Erikar was unable to inspect any more of the House of Sin before a young, scantily-clad beauty forced herself in their path.

"Hello, Master Lye. His Grace has been waiting! Please, follow me." She piped, looking oddly cheerful for one of her profession. Erikar looked to Lye as she turned and began to bounce away, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know.." The silver-haired assassin grumbled, his heels clicking on the floor as he followed the bubbly attendant. The red-haired initiate shrugged his sword-belt back into place on his shoulder and followed the pair to the curved staircase next to the hallway. His gaze drifted back across the first floor once more before he stamped up the stairs after them. They exited on the second floor, turning onto another floor full of room, various noises emanating from each.

The attendant pranced briskly to a closed doorway and gave an elaborate knock. A myriad of locks and latches could be heard turning on the other side, and then the door cracked silently open. A masked face peered through the crack, scanning the trio up and down.

"You're dismissed, whore." The man spoke lazily.

"Yes sir, thank you!" She gushed, turning away and practically skipping down to the first floor.

"Come in, Master Lichensith and protege. His Grace has been waiting."

The masked doorman opened the door further, letting the sickly-sweet stench of sweat and perfume drift through. A circle of people sat gathered around a trio of employees who were performing something that seemed.. anatomically impossible, to say the least. At the back of the room, naked save a pair of boots and leather pants, sat a pale tiefling with a crystal glass of wine in one hand and a gem-topped cane in the other. He reclined leisurely, his defined musculature, spikes, fangs, and numerous tattoos giving him a frightening visage. However, there was an odd allure to his features; he seemed almost mesmerizing, if one looked to closely. He gave off an air of power, of control; it was obvious who he was.

'Aurelianus Drak'Shal. This is the one we've come to see...'

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

Aurelianus was killing time.

The day, like the one before it, and the one before that had been dull. Uneventful. He didn't particularly like being bored, so when he'd received a letter from his so-called superior, the tiefling's black little heart had thrilled. Finally, something to entertain him! The letter didn't specify the reason behind the visit, but it was a distraction. That was all that mattered.

But days had passed now, and it was all Aurelianus could do to keep himself occupied. There were no new projects in the pain-chamber, and business was booming so there were few whores free to cater to his own dark desires. In an attempt to stay at least mildly entertained he had wandered the brothel, sampling some of the debaucheries going on under his roof. Many of the rooms clients took to with the girls were private - with the identities of some of these men, it was essential that they be allowed to slake their thirsts out of sight of those that might recognise them. Many more of the chambers had peep-holes that other visitors could pay to view through. What the secretive clients weren't aware of was the fact their half-demon benefactor had means of spying into every room in his domain. For the most part, the purveyor of the flesh ensured the safety of their secrets. If anyone was going to blackmail these men, it would be the warlock himself - he would not suffer anyone less than himself to hold these high-up sods by their short and curlies.

He was, after all, the Master of The Word within the Crimson Hand; their spymaster. Lord of blackmail and collector of the darkest secrets.

Many of the clients were of famous Salvaran families. Some others had even traveled from other countries to see if the rumours about The House of Sin were well founded. None had been disappointed. But the problem with coming from a rich family, or holding a position of power was that, even when one was supposed to be concealing who they were, they all had that self-entitled, piss-poor attitude.

Case in point, Aurelius thought sourly, taking a mouthful of the wine in his hand, his inhuman eyes sliding over the barely dressed, and exceptionally drunk human next to him.

Cadin, one of the men who had proven time and again to be capable and level-headed worker, had approached Aurelius a few hours before. He had quietly warned him about a.. troublesome client. The man had apparently tried to lift his hands to one of the girls who refused him a free ride, and then when the bouncers had intervened, the upstart big bastard had threatened them. The man was exceptionally well-built, and tall. He had all the handsome features one would expect of generations of selective breeding. But, instead of having the burliest boys take the man out back and break him in good and proper, Aurelianus had allowed himself a moment of inspiration. He had ordered the man be left alone. The Master of the House had even extended him a personal invitation to come view a private party on the second floor, much to the staff's mystification. Anyone who had set foot here soon learned the upper floor was home to the more inventive and colourful delights. The man had instantly accepted the invitation, no questions asked.

And here he was with Aurelianus, deep in his cups, hand down his trousers and drooling. The circular room was filled with comfortable, low chairs and cushions for the voyeurs to recline. Most of them were barely dressed or fully naked, cavorting lazily with each other as they feasted upon the pleasures displayed. Servants wearing little more than leather straps and outlandish piercings wandered in the shadows around the perimeter, swooping in any time someone had an empty glass or desired some exotic new narcotic. Many of them were on edge with the handsome young man jeering and occasionally trying to involve himself in the show. There were a few lamps dotted around, to allow everyone a better view without compromising the ambiance, and incense filled the room with a faint veil of smoke - it didn't cover the scents of sweat and raw sex. The three women in the centre stage were going about their business with all the lust and fervour of someone truly devoted to the excesses and depravities they had been introduced to, but even in the grips of their lust, they would not acknowledge the fine specimen of man trying to paw at them - they were here to satisfy the watchers. Those were their orders, and they followed them with utter joy. Most of the women working under Aurelius were coming around, their eyes finally open to just how banal their lives had been, how dull and hollow their idea of pleasure was.

Over the moans and gasps in the centre of the room, and the boisterous calls and laughter of the the human, Aurelius hadn't heard the knocks at the door. But one of the attendants - a human wearing an eyeless leather mask, and somehow performing his duties unhindered despite this - moved towards the heavily locked slab of wood. Gimmel was his name, and a pair of sickled blades dangled at his hips - he was a regular crowd-pleaser at the flesh-art demonstrations. When it opened, Aurelius' eyes lit up. Bout bloody time 'e got 'ere! he thought with a fanged grin. The tiefling stood, opening his arms and pouring his wine straight into the loud-mouth's lap as he moved away. The human, shocked into silence for a moment, jumped to his feet and followed the half-breed.

"'ello chief!" Aurelianus grinned, sketching a mocking half-bow to the silver-haired murderer, and patting Gimmel on the back. The human bowed, and silently stepped back to his post. Aurelianus let his gaze dance over the cutter accompanying Lye, running his forked black tongue over his fangs.

"A present? Oh, chief, you shouldn't 'ave! 'e's a little soft lookin', but I know a few blokes that wou--"

Lye stopped the undoubtedly vile description to follow with a raised hand.

"He is not here to work in that capacity, Aurelius," he warned, his voice low yet still cutting through the orgasmic half-scream of one of the women. But any further discussion was interrupted as a strong hand gripped the tiefling's shoulder.

"You poured your fucking wine over me," the black-haired human growled in a blast of wine-sour breath, spinning the shorter half-breed to face him.

"I did," came the calm response. "What's your point?"

"My point, you little shit, is I want an apology! How dare you do something like that to me! I should fu--"

Before he could dig himself into a deeper hole, the cane in Aurelius' hand came up, hooking across the back of the man's neck and bringing his ear level with the ashen-skinned fiend. Over the din of the rest of the room's occupants, no-one could hear what Aurelius whispered into the human's ear, but the man visibly paled, and backed off a few steps, dumb-struck. He didn't even register Gimmel standing behind him suddenly, hands on the curved handles of his weapons. The half-demon gave a barely perceptible shake of his head, and the leather-bound guard eased off.

"Now you've twigged," Aurelius said softly, his voice dangerously low, "that I know exactly who you are, mate. And you're in my House so you'll play by my rules, few as they are. So, you pay your tab, plus an extra two-hundred, and if I'm feelin' charitable your dear ol' Da doesn't find out what you payed to do to those boys. I'm pretty sure that'd shaft you right out of the inheritance, eh?"

He nodded in agreement, eyes glazed over as all the bluster went out of him. That little reminder of his life outside these walls, was all the prompting it took for the shame to hit home. The man wept, huge shoulders hiking with silent sobs.

"Right, glad we got that sorted," the tiefling purred, reaching out to gently pat the humiliated man on the cheek. "Now, piss off out of it, and if I 'ear you've been a bad boy from any of my workers..."

He left the threat hanging.

"Gimmel, see to it our friend 'ere coughs up 'is jink then turf 'im out." The masked human bowed his head in acknowledgment.

"And get the girls to give the cutters in 'ere a free show, to make up for the disturbance," Aurelius added as an after-thought.

Turning back to Lye and his companion, Aurelius smirked. "Sorry 'bout that lads. Now," he cocked his horned head for the pair to follow him and set off out of the room, "if I'm not very much mistaken, you were about to tell me why you're 'ere."

He turned back to face them after wandering to the end of another corridor, serpent eyes meeting their stares without blinking, leaning on the wrought-iron railing at the top of the narrow staircase. It led down to one of his regular haunts in the building, and he gestured for the pair to join him, with the cane twirling slowly in his fingers.

[Lye]

Lye turned to his redheaded trainee with a fiendish grin.

"You can see why I like the man," he remarked to Erikar. Then, as the enigmatic tiefling proceeded toward the steps below, the assassin gave follow.

"A pleasure as always Aurelianus. I see you're keeping The House in tight order." The pale skinned fiend characteristically waved his hand as though to dismiss the compliment. "Though it would be nice if you sent word prior to shipping gifts to headquarters. The men have little regard for anything else in the presence of your... trained employees."

The corridor in which they descended came to is eventual end. By distance alone, Lye gauged them to be at least several feet underground. The must and slight echo of his words only served to confirm his suspicions. Aurelianus had halted in front of a solid iron door. The rivets and bands which crossed over the surface all had seen time's touch. In the limited light, the purveyor halted the spin of his cane, gripped the rusted handle, and turned to show the two the eerie effervescence of pale, yellow eyes.

"My sincerest apologies, cutter. Considerin' the.. issues in morale lately, I reckoned the lads would've enjoyed a good pikin' to lift their spirits." The tone was sincere, but the jagged smile was not.

"Right." Lye's face remained expressionless, but the half demon could see the disdain in the killer's eyes. With a tug on the door, an eerie squeal of metal on stone, and a bow, he opened the door for his guests.

"Step into my office, cutters," came the invitation. The chamber itself issued an entirely different greeting. Flickering in the ever burning Hellfire torches, stood several infernal devices. All of them held a certain burnt sienna umber commonly seen on the executioner's block. Of which, Lye noticed one neatly tucked away in the corner with the blade's edge firmly seated in the wood.

"And do pardon the mess," the tiefling added in amusement. By this, he referred to the recently dampened tools upon one of the counters and a bound figure of a man strapped tightly in a chair. Nude, except for the black linens around and grievous wounds, the figure sat limp with a stead drip of vitae to the stone floor.

Lye stepped in with his initiate in hesitant stride behind him.

"I see you've added a few things," Lye commented as he eyed the ornate plush chairs and small stand resting atop a fine rug. The set remained in front of a cracking coal pit with several chains ornately handing from the ceiling above.

"Kind of you to notice, chief" Aure chimed as he slid the slab of iron behind him. "Now, enough pissin' about, eh?"

"Yes, this little fledgling is Erikar Aodhfionn, a newer member of the organization."

The tiefling walked past, nodding his head, hands behind his back, and a fiddle of his cane.

"He has a penchant for being headstrong, loud, and straightforward. While not entirely useless traits, he found himself on the edge of death only within the first week. Bedridden in pain no less."

"Ahh," Aurelianus chimed. He spun on his heel wearing playfulness on his features. "So he's 'ere for some.. trainin'?"

"In a manner of speaking..." Lye contributed. By now, both the senior members of the Crimson Hand had eyes on Erikar.

"Well, me old son. You're in for a bloody treat." Aurelianus's serpentine tongue ran the length of his cheshire grin.

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

Lye receives 660 EXP and 55 GP!

Erikar received 440 EXP and 55 GP!

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

All rewards have been added!