Debt of Blood (Closed)

[Sinovera Of Bloodmoon]

Sinovera's awakening had been a somber one on the late-afternoon after her meeting of Leoric. The night before had brought up many memories, nightmares, and wounds that she had so desperately wished to keep hidden. She had nearly decided to not open her eyes that day and just lay in the bed until she drifted into a sleep that she hoped never to wake from, but something drew her out of bed. The lingering effects of a dream/memory that she had had much earlier that night. It had decided that it would constantly replay in her mind every time she closed her eyes. So, with the fear of having the dream again, she arose from the bed.

As she attempted to raise herself up she let out a grunt of pain as all of the injuries from the night before flared up in unison. They hurt much less than they had the night before, but it was still going to take a couple of days for her to be able to move normally. She slowly slid to the edge of the bed to put her feet on the ground. She dared not look down at her bedraggled appearance as she looked around the room.

The room was rather small and lightly furnished. There was a small desk next to the queen-sized bed, an uncomfortable looking chair, and a small set a drawers at the foot of the bed to put clothing if you were going to be a long-time occupant. It was a decent place to stay if you needed somewhere, but there was one thing that wasn't in the room that caught Sinovera's eye. Leoric.

She slowly rose to her feet, attempting to not aggrivate her wounds anymore than they already were. She then went to the mirror that was been carelessly hung on the wall. She nearly drew back when she saw herself.

Her cheek had sustained a very nasty wound that had left an equally nasty scab. It was roughly the width of Sinovera's pinky finger, and the length of it as well. The bags under her eyes were nothing to not wince at either. She nearly looked like she had two black eyes. The rest of her body was a mystery to her, however. She had gone to sleep in her leather armour, having felt a bit safer in it. The only point that her amrour had come off last night was to let Leoric help her clean our her leg and wrap her ribs. And even then she had nearly refused to let him come anywhere near her.

Sinovera let out a soft sigh as she remembered just how difficult she had been the night before. Thought, in here eyes, it had been her right to be so difficult. The foul things he had said the night before had put her on edge. As he had spoken to her of his past, however, she had begun to relax quite a bit. She even spoke of some things, though she did more of the listening and less of the talking. There was still plenty that he didn't know of her because she refused to trust him with much. She had learned quite a bit about him though.

She shook her head from her thoughts as her stomach growled with hunger. She looked down at her bloodied leather armour and decided that it would not be the best attire to go to a late lunch in and went to her pack that had been laying on the ground at the foot of the bed. She felt her way through it until she felt the soft fabric of her black dress. She pulled it out carefully so as not to drag out anything else out of the bag. She then quickly took off her leather armour and then slipped on the dress. She then took a crimson ribbon and wrapped it around her waist to make the dress seem less like a fancy burlap sack to be more like a dress.

The black colour of the dress blended well with her skin, it showed her curves, and it hid any injuries that she might have had, whilst leaving them comfortable. She then drew a brush through her silvery hair and headed her way down to the main floor. The stairs had been a challenge to her because of her injured ankle, but she had made it. When she looked around she could already see people milling in for drinks.

One table in particular was occupied by many people. Namely Leoric and a crowd of women. They seemed to be trying to baby him because of his smashed up face. He seemed to not want the attention however. She gave a thought to saving him, but she remembered the brute from the night before and decided she would just go the bar and get her food there.

[Reytac]

Harold’s eyes slowly opened, and for a moment the disorientation of awakening had the redhead confused as to where he was. Though he could hear birds chirping, the sound was much more distant than he had become recently accustomed to, and there weren’t sticks and stones poking into him. He sat up and looked around, taking in the elaborate four-poster bed that he was laying upon; then the chamber itself. As he looked around his mind began working fully, reminding him that he had been taken in by a noble family, and was finally not sleeping in the woods.

Warm soft light shone through a slim crack in heavy drapes that hung in front of a window. The lanky man slipped out of the bed and made his way to that window, pulling the draperies open enough to look out. The sun was just rising above the horizon; casting a warm glow across the tops of the trees that for the last few days had been his home. His eyes flicked downwards to take in the goings-on in the courtyard below, where it was apparent that the day for many people living in this area were just beginning.

Young boys were leading horses and other animals out into pastures, and the sounds of bellows being stoked and fires being lit could be heard echoing throughout the area, muted by the stone and the heavy leadlined glass. Though this scene would be soothing to many, to Harold it only confirmed his worst fears, and sent chills down his spine. He’d been trying not to think about it for the last few days in the forest when he’d found his phone had no signal of any kind.

But the castle itself, and the rustic life in front of him forced the reality onto him more stringently than he could possibly deny. He wasn’t in his world, despite the fact that whatever he had done had let him speak their language. Harold sat down on a chair in front of what looked like a rudimentary vanity – no mirror here, but depending on the advancement of the technology in this place, the ability to have small mirrors might not exist. Though a polished sheet of metal would serve the same rough function, he was an unknown despite the fact that the noble had taken him in, so he didn’t begrudge them putting him in a room without something easily stolen. That thought prompted him to look towards his belongings, and that led to another – his clothes were highly anachronistic and didn’t fit in at all.

While the shape and function of the clothes didn’t seem out of place, the materials they were made out of would. The cotton weaves of his undershirt that he was still wearing, along with polyester slacks that were currently folded neatly on top of the sole dresser in the room… no, they were not going to fit in. Though his silk vest would work… He shook his head rapidly, his mind was scattered and dashing about frantically as the gravity of the situation sank in. He wasn’t in his own world, nor was he in Witchelny, his partner’s. Something had gone wrong, seriously wrong with the Rune he’d used… the rune..
What Rune had he used? Harold sat bolt upright, his mind scrabbling backwards. Trying to survive the last few days had put thoughts of the magic he’d performed to get here on the back burner, and now that he was attempting to recall it, he was pulling up a disturbing blank. He knew what it had to do with – Travel – but the actual Rune itself was gone. So too were his other Runes, the things he’d earned with his blood, sweat and tears. As the mage tried to catalogue what he could remember, he was left with a disturbing realization.

Right now Harold only had two Runes. Ironically, they were the first two he had gained when he made his Pact with Myrrdin, Creature and Rune. Though there was something else, hanging out the edge of his mind. Something he could use but not what it should be… he frowned, deciding to shelve that oddity for now. First he had to think about his hosts.

He had been found by the lord of the house yesterday while the man was out on what he now assumed to be a hunt. When they had come across each other, he had simply assumed that the man was taking a sabbatical of some kind, but that was when he thought that he was in his own world. With what had been confirmed now though, that wasn’t likely. Harold dropped his head into his hands and sat there, his brain rattled from the revelation that he likely wouldn’t ever see home again. The others would be ok without him, that was for sure, but he’d grown so used to their presence…this was all because he’d gotten desperate and tried to find Myrrdin, when his power shouldn’t have even worked at all anymore.

That was how the maid who came in to wake him found the Rune mage, face down on his palms, his shoulders heaving slowly as he struggled not to have a panic attack.

[Leoric]

Leoric sighed as he opened his eyes. It had been a rather long night for him, Seeing ghosts from his past, smashing his face off of trees in a drunken stupor, stopping an ambush and ultimately spilling quite a bit of his past to a complete stranger. He had remained in the same chair all night, with nothing but the oil lamp next to him, on the desk, for warmth. Leoric stood up and quietly grabbed his equipment as he snuck out of his room at the Moose-piss Tavern.

“Heh, Sleepless night eh?” A male voice came from behind him.

“SHHH!” Leoric quickly hushed the man as he pushed him towards the stairs to head down to the main sitting room. “She had a rough night, Kale, I don't want to disturb her.”

“Oh? I didn't know you were into that kind of stuff.” Kale chuckled as he slapped Leoric on the back and grabbed his axe as he left the tavern.

Shockingly it was still dead in here. All the unconscious patrons had slowly woken up and gone home. Sal had spent the morning cleaning up and reorganizing all his tables and chairs.

“Hey Sal! How goes your morning?” Leoric inquired as he tried to put on a cheerful face.

“Pretty fair going” He said with a smile as he turned to face Leoric “And you didn't sleep a wink last night did you? You look exhausted m'boy. If it wasn't for what you looked like coming in last night I would of swore you spent all night having fun with that Drow.”

“Yeah, well, There's just something that doesn't quite feel right. I think, maybe, I just need to get out of here. If anyone jobs come up let me know alright?” Both men nodded as they went about the morning activities of getting the Tavern ready for what would surely be a rambunctious night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh that looks like it hurts”

“Does it hurt?”

“Do you need me to kiss it better?” Three voices said one after another.

“No really, I am fine ladies. I just got in a little scuffle with some less then tasteful characters” Leoric said as he tried to stand up but was quickly smothered by the trio of women. He watched as Sinovera walked down the stairs and looked his way before heading over to the bar.

“Unf, no wonder you didn't get any sleep last night! Look at that sweet peace of ass.” Kale commented as Sinovera walked past him. Leoric quickly shot him a dirty look and mouthed for him to watch it. “What gives? She is just a woman, not even a Human woman at that? She would be lucky to be some mans whore.”

This 'Acquaintance' of Leoric's had pushed all the wrong buttons. Sure Leoric liked sleeping with women, but he never belittled them for their roles. Hell some of the women on Althanas were scary beasts of woman. Not to mention they had easy access to a mans soft exposed body any time they wanted. Kale barely had a chance to react as a quaking palm strike struck him dead center in the face. The dull roar of the crowd changed to a gasp as Kale was sent stumbling back a few feet.

“Learn your place!” Leoric said as he spun around and round house kicked the blaggard across the room.

“Fuck you and your damned dark skinned whore!” Kale screamed as he spat blood and stood up. He had never engaged Leoric in a fight before but he had seen the fist fights plenty of times in the past. He lunged at Leoric aiming for a tackle. Leoric's eyes widened as a deep unseated rage flicked behind his eyes. Within a fraction of a second his right knee was slammed into Kale's face, crushing and cracking several bones. Kale stumbled back clutching his face, blood pouring from pretty much every orifice it could find a way out of.

“for the record, her name is Sinovera.” Leoric spat with malice as he kicked the Bloodied Blaggard through the front door of the tavern, splitting the door down the middle and causing it to swing open. After a few seconds of catching his breath he walked out the front door just in time to see the bloodied man stumbling away clutching his face as he struggled to remain on his feet.

Leoric turned around just in time to see everyone, save the tavern owner and Sinovera, cheering him on. The usual's always enjoyed watching Leoric lay the smack down. Leoric sighed and waved off the cheering as he went to his usual corner booth right next to the bar and sighed.

“You know you gotta ...”

“Fix that and pay for it, ya ya I know” Leoric cut Sal off as he let out a sigh and sat down in his booth staring off at the crowd, keeping his peripheral vision on Sinovera.

[Sinovera Of Bloodmoon]

Dark Elven ears twitched as the words were spoken from Leoric's companion. The lewdness in his first comment was enough for to go on edge, but she was able to mostly ignore him. She was no stranger to those kinds of comments. She knew that she was somewhat of a commodity among the townsfolk. A Drow was a rarity. She found that most men wished to be with her because she had the grace and beauty of an Elf, but the feral aura of a Dark Elf.

“Sal,” she paused a moment, “that's your name right?” She leaned forward on the bar and attempted a smile.

“That I be. What can I get for ye?” He was a kind enough gentleman, but he also held a lewd stare on his face. She figured that it was more for Leoric's sakes than hers however.

“Could I trouble you for a a meal?” she asked, bringing out her coin purse, which she had stuffed into her bosom, out.

“Ye certainly can, lassie,” he gave a kind smile and took the few coins that she fished out of her purse. When his gaze fell away from her, however, she found that he stared behind her. She had been doing her best to mute the rest of the people in the room; when her focus came back to the rest of the room as was able to catch the last words the man spoke. “She's be lucky to be some man's whore,” her hands went to the bar, gripping it in a knuckle-white grip. The creaking of the bar fell on deaf eras when the first cries of the occupants echoed out. She turned quickly only to find Leoric round-house kicking the man. She found herself staring at Leoric, noticing all the scars that were visible on his face, including her claw marks. She winced just a tiny bit remember that she had given him those injuries.

The most noticeable thing about him, however, was his eyes. When Kale had lunged, Sinovera found that a white hot rage had entered their depths. She didn't even feel the need to lunge forward and kill Kale. She knew that Leoric could handle it. And sure enough the sounds of bone snapping were heard as Leoric's knee met the brutes face.

“For the record, her name is Sinovera,” Leoric growled before tossing the man out on his face, breaking the tavern door in the process. Sinovera remained very still as Leoric came back and sat at his corner booth. When he finally looked up and made eye-contact with her. She merely nodded at him before she walked hurriedly out the door. Kale had been able to walk only a little bit before collapsing against a wall, holding his face in agony. She could clearly smell blood as she calmly walked towards him. The pain had blinded him somewhat, so it wasn't until she was right in front of him that he noticed her. When he looked up Sinovera found that satisfaction had begun to flow through her. His face was a mess of collapsed bone and swollen skin. He had been an attractive man before, but Sinovera highly doubted that anyone wou ld want to bed him after he was done licking his wounds.

He attempted to say something, and the look on his face made Sinovera think that it wasn't going to be too kindly, but before he could say it Sinovera's hand was around his neck. She lifted him up to his feet by his neck, putting half of her strength into her grip. She could hear his breathing becoming raspy as the pressure closed off his windpipe.

“We women deserve respect, you filthy animal. If I find you speaking to another woman like we are just a piece of meat you will find just how powerful we are,” she brought her other hand back, revealing the black claws and grinned in a most sadistic fashion. “If I am the one that catches you, you better hope that I don't feel like doing worse than this,” she then brought her claws down across his face, leaving deep gashes within it. He screamed out in pain and tried to get away, but Sinovera grabbed him by his dirty blonde locks and drug him to the healers house. When she reached the door she “carefully” pushed him into the door and promptly left without saying another word.

On her way back to the tavern she was interrupted by a young man of eighteen with a satchel. “Excuse me, miss,” he seemed almost nervous to be standing in front of her; she attempted a smile for his benefit.

“Yes, what is it?” She gave him a once over, immediately noticing that he was underfed by quite a bit. A messenger boy, obviously. She found that many messengers didn't belong in that particular job. Mostly because when they were on the road they didn't have the correct provisions to get them through the long journeys.

“You seem c-c-capable,” he said, stuttering just the tiniest bit. He reached into his bag, attempting to find something. “I-I-I have a j-j-job offer that s-s-someone gave me to g-g-give to a capable p-p-person,” he finally found a rolled up vellum parchment tied together with a blood red ribbon and handed it to her. “H-h-here. I have m-m-more deliveries to m-m-make.” Without another word he turned on his heel and ran off in the other direction, leaving Sinovera in a slight stupor at just how quick the encounter had gone by.

Once she recovered herself she made her way back to the tavern, quickly, and went to the bar, ignoring the stares from the occupants. She sat down at the bar again, just in time to find her food being placed in front of her. She gave a thank you to Sal before undoing the ribbon and reading the contents. Her curiosity peaked as she read the message that would have been better on a bulletin board. The handwriting upon it was delicate and fine, the handwriting of a noble woman. It said something of a murdered father, and needing help in discovering who it was that had killed him. She noted that the area wasn't too terribly far away.

“Sincerely, Mistress Sarah of House Valliere,” Sinovera mumbled this to herself. She thought that the name sounded familiar. As she thought she glanced over at Leoric, who had been joined by three other women, all of which were coddling him like a baby. She had the feeling that on any other day he would have greatly enjoyed the attention, but today he just seemed very annoyed by it. The women didn't seem to notice his distress. Sinovera clicked her tongue before getting up, the vellum parchment in her hand. She swiftly walked over to the group of women. Leoric noticed her, giving a puzzled look. She merely smiled at him as she grabbed a woman that was particularly touchy by the hair and pulled her away from Leoric, snarling. “Get away from my man, all of you!” She quickly let go of the woman as she began to thrash, laughing as the woman crashed to the ground in a mess of skirts.

“He wouldn't want anything to do with a Drow-bitch like you!” The woman that had a good chunk pulled out of her hair screeched at Sin.

Sinovera slowly smiled, showing sharp teeth, “Did he not just break the face of a man that disrespected me?” She chuckled as she deftly slid into the seat next to Leoric. “Now go away before I do the same to all of your harpy faces.” They all seemed to want to attack her, but thought better of it. They quickly made their exit, giving her dirty looks all the way.

“Sal, would you bring my plate over here? I forgot to bring it,” she asked politely, getting a good-natured dirty look as he brought it over and set it down in front of her. She tossed the vellum over to Leoric and dug into her meal of meat, potatoes, and bread. “You should read that,” she said curtly, not looking at him.

[Reytac]

Harold slowly sat back in the chamber he had been assigned, the same one that he had woken up in days ago, and poured himself a cup of water out of the jug that he had drawn from the nearby river himself. It had taken only a few minutes of talk with the Valliere lord, Phillip Valliere, to convince the man not only to allow Harold the courtesy of a private water jug, but to use one himself. The young Rune mage stared absently into the water in his hand as he pondered the situation which had arisen in the estate around his arrival.

Though he had not known it at the time, he had arrived just after the former patriarch of the family had died. While he had no longer been the liege lord of the house, he was beloved by many of the family members and the older staff, who had described the man as outgoing and loud. Though most of the family assumed that the man had died of old age, his daughter, the lady Karin, had been suspicious, and proved to be even more so when her husband brought Harold onto the estate, claiming to have found him in the woods. This by itself would not have been anywhere near enough for Harold to be suspicious himself, or encourage his host to take precautions…

But three days after Harold arrived, there was another death. This time, it was one of the cousins who lived there. The Valliere estate was quite large, and a small town had sprung up around it as well, many of the people who actually lived in the castle being related to the Vallieres. It was actually Harold who had found this victim, and it was he who figured out that the death was far, far from accidental, despite some of the others who responded to his cry for help thinking it was. Harold knew exactly what had caused this death, and upon examining the body his suspicion and fear was confirmed.

The man had been completely exsanguinated. The Rune mage had thought this was the case when he noticed after calming down that the body had had an unnaturally pale skin hue, despite the fact that many of the people who lived in this area being quite tan from the sun, even the nobles. He’d knelt down and checked the body – which had done little to help Karin’s hostile feelings towards him – and found that though rigor mortis hadn’t set in, the body was cool to the touch. A discreet check of the neck and wrists revealed small incisions on both of the woman’s wrists, as well as faint blood spatters on the cloth near by.

But there was no blood on the ground, leading the mage to believe that the cousin had been killed somewhere else, and her body dumped there. It made sense, as the corridor that he had found her body in was actually fairly disused. Harold had only stumbled upon it by accident as he roamed the halls aimlessly, trying to think of some way he could repay Phillip’s generosity. He had been pulled into a consultation by the noble, who ignored his wife’s suspicions. They weren’t ignored because Phillip considered her ignorant in any way – but he had kept Harold with him while he tried to finish his hunt, so there was no way that the Rune user could have been responsible for his father-in-law’s death. Phillip had noticed that Harold’s examination of the body hadn’t been like someone trying to see if another person was alive, and was worried about what it might have been for though. As the water rippled in Harold’s cup, the conversation came back to him.


Flashback
“Well lad, are you a necromancer or some such?” The blunt question from Phillip had Harold stuttering, before vehemently denying it.


“No! I told you when we met, I am a Rune mage.” Harold watched as Phillip began pacing back and forth. “If this is about my examination of the body, I was something of an investigator where I came from, and I was trying to figure out why the lady died.” Phillip stopped and turned to look at Harold.


“And what in the name of the Thaynes is an investigator?” Harold frowned momentarily before remembering that this world wasn’t quite as advanced as his own. By a fair margin. He sighed and rubbed his forehead.


“Someone who searches for reasons in things. In this case, I was looking for the cause of her death.” Phillip tilted his head to one side for a moment before gesturing for Harold to continue. “Now then. The young lady-“


“Her name was Tabitha lad.” Phillip cut Harold off. “Not just young lady. She might be dead, but give her that respect at least.” Harold nodded slightly.


“My apologies. Miss Tabitha died from what is known as exsanguination – or rather, blood loss. I do not know how complete it was, but I would surmise that she lost at least half of the blood in her body. And what is more telling, where I found her body is not where she died.” Phillip frowned.


“You mean to say, that not only did someone kill my cousin, but they were able to do it so quietly that we never knew they were draining her like a pig; and that they were able to carry her body through my home without anyone seeing?” Harold took a step back as Phillip spoke, the noble’s rage growing with every word. For a moment it seemed like Phillip would lash out, but he took a deep breath and marshaled himself, visibly reining in his anger.


“Sadly… yes. What that means is that either this person has access to some kind of magic that let them hide what was going on, or that… well my lord, that they were not working alone. And I do not know which is more terrifying.” At that, Phillip froze, his eyes widening in shock.
End Flashback


After their discussion turned down that dark path, the two men talked for a bit more, Phillip bouncing ideas off of Harold, trying to figure out which it was. Harold hadn’t noticed any signs of something magical about Tabitha’s body, but then again he didn’t know this world’s magic so he might have missed something. Phillip had let Harold return to his room, but only after the younger man convinced the lord only to drink water he was sure of himself, and to avoid anything else for the time being. Tabitha hadn’t looked like she’d put up a fight, which had led Harold to believe she was drugged in some way, and he didn’t know if it had been a spell or a concoction of some kind that had done it.


Harold took a deep breath as he sat his cup down without taking a drink from it, getting up to look out at the night. The fog rising off of the river had blanketed the area densely like a thick pea soup, making it hard to see more than a few feet through it at ground level. Above it as he was, he was able to look up at the half-moon, which had slowly been getting fuller and fuller as time went on. He sighed and rested his head against the thick glass pane. It was easy to see why the killer had chosen this time to start his dark work, the heavy fog and cold would keep everyone indoors in the village around them, and the nobles ended most nights fairly well drunk as the wont of medieval families. The number of people who might see him or her at work at night was extremely low, more so if he avoided places like the kitchen and the great hall where servants still worked. Harold thumped his head against the glass in exasperation and worry – he’d only just arrived in this world and been embroiled in a murder/mystery, and he didn’t have enough resources, knowledge, or allies to easily handle the situation. What was he going to do?

[Leoric]

The scene that unfolded once Sinovera returned was nothing short of surprising. Not only did she grab one of the more liked maidens by the hair and pulled her back, but she also threatened to do to them what he had just done to Kale. The most shocking part of the whole ordeal was Sinovera's exclamation that Leoric was 'Her' man. The Moose-piss Tavern became deathly silent as the ladies backed off cursing the 'dark skinned whore'.

“Your man eh?” Leoric asked as the parchment was shoved in front of him. Sinovera either didn't hear his question or promptly ignored it as she ushered him to read it.

Leoric had an itch form in the back of his mind as he read the last name Valliere? Why does that name seem so familiar? His endless escapades with the ladies that had come in and out of Gallia over the last few months had made it almost impossible to remember any specific name.

“Sal, Why does Valliere sound familiar?” Leoric asked as he looked down at the parchment and read the name again to himself.

“The Eldest daughter of House Valliere passed through here a few weeks ago. Their estate is only about a two day ride north from here. Why? Has she sent you a love letter?” Sal chuckled as he remembered what actually happened that night.

“If only it was that, Apparently something big has gone down and they are requesting assistance. Do you know if Rupert is back from his rounds yet?”

“He should be out back if you want to go hitch a ride”

Leoric nodded as he stood up and rolled up the parchment. He was going to need the parchment to prove he was there to help when he arrived. The Bar Brawler stepped outside as a breath of wind sighed past him. The street was unusually busy for the evening time, Carts were going every which way. Horses giving their owners a hard time as they unloaded. Kale stumbling out of the healers hut still bruised and ugly looking. The brown dirt of the street kicked up a fuss as a Horse tried to run away.

The wannabe savior walked out back of the Tavern and found exactly who he was looking for. A young man no older then sixteen. He had two horses, one white with silver spots, the other was a solid chestnut brown color with a long flowing mane, they were tied up to a rather expensive looking carriage. He snapped to attention when he spotted Leoric come around the corner.

“Leoric! What can I do for ya today?”

“I need you to take me and one passenger to the Valliere estate, apparently it is two days worth of travel and I will gladly pay you for this.”

Rupert seemed to think about it for a minute while eyeing up Leoric. “You normally travel alone, who is this other person and what is so intriguing you gotta go?”

“Her name is Sinovera, the Drow that has been in town for a few days. We have a letter requesting our presence at the Estate to help with some family issues”

“Oh? Is Danira going to profess her love?” Rupert teased.

“Danira? Oh! That was her name wasn't it?” Leoric frowned as remembering his past few months made him feel ill. “Regardless, can you do it? I will pay you ten gold for it”

“Ten!” The carriage driver exclaimed “You got yourself a driver when do you want to leave?”

“immediately “ Leoric said as Sinovera happened to come around the corner, obviously looking for him. “I got us a ride to the Valliere Estate, I hope Sal's cooking is sitting well, we got a long trek ahead of us.”

As both passengers piled into the back of the ornate wooden carriage. Leoric couldn't help but be a little on edge. Last time he had given into his basic instincts he almost got his throat ripped out. What would she do to him in such a confined space if he said the wrong thing? One thing was for certain, it was going to be a long few days for him.

[Sinovera Of Bloodmoon]

When Sinovra had gone to find Leoric she had waited around the corner, listening in on the conversation between the two males. The only thing that she had really drawn in from the conversation had been that Leoric had been a bit of a man-whore. He hadn't even had the decency to remember the names of the women that had given themselves to him. Sinovera held little respect for men and women who loved without limit. If her past hadn't been the way it had been, she would have been able to claim herself an unbroken woman who had waited until marriage to give herself to someone. In her mind she was still unbroken, but physically that wasn't the case.

When Leoric had offered the driver ten gold for the trip she finally rounded the corner and made herself known. She gave an almost cold smile to Leoric as she came up to the carriage to inspect it. It looked to have been made sturdily by human means, which didn't mean much to her. It had been made to accommodate around four people, so the quarters were going to be rather cramped.

She then looked to the horses that would be pulling them to their destination. She noticed their glossy, well taken care of coats, the beautiful, flowing manes, and the sheer size and strength of them. They were truly bred for pulling Carriages. Unlike many of the other horses she had spotted in the area, these were lithe and beautiful. Bred for rich work, not the labour of fields. To her the horses were far more impressive.

“The modem of transportation is satisfactory,” she said coldly as she straightened her back and looked to Leoric. “If you would kindly go and gather our things, I will get the provisions for the ride,” she turned away without another word and went into the tavern. She sat at the bar and listened to Leoric's footsteps as they made their way up the stairs to their room. Once Sal became aware of her presence he came over and gave her a smile.

“What can I get you lass?” He asked, rubbing a dirty rag on a mug.

“May I have the use of your well out back to refill our water-skins, and may I also have four bags of your best dried meat,” She asked, already reaching to her coin purse.

“Lassie, do ye not believe that they will nae feed ye?” He asked, getting the bags she asked for.

“Have you not gazed upon my traveling companion?” She said almost humorously.

“Aye I have,” he gave a nod as he put the desired bags on the counter in front of her. “But ye cannae lead me to think that he could eat that much meat in two days, lass.”

Sinovera chuckled as she gave him the amount of gold needed for the bags and promptly left them on the counter as she got up from her seat at the bar.

“You also have to account for me, sir.” She said as she slipped behind the bar and out towards the back to fill the water-skins that she had on her person. She often got dehydrated quickly because of her sped up metabolism.

“Ye are such a wee thing...” he paused a moment, looking at her pointed ears. “Don't you people normally feed on plants?”

“Yes, but Drow tend to not,” she chucked humorously this time as she used the pulley to pull up a bucket, then she quickly filled the skins. Then she turned and pushed past the overly curious bartender and grabbed the bags of meat.

When she finally escaped the grasp of Sal Leoric had already been there and waiting for her. He had already packed everything away. Sinovera went into the carriage and sat on one side as Leoric crawled his large frame into the other seat.

“This is going to be a long trip,” she grumbled under her breath as the carriage began to move with a sharp cry from the driver.

[Reytac]

Harold cursed under his breath as he moved through the cold stone hallways of the Valliere estate. It had been a full day since he had found the drained body, and his discussion with the lord of the house, and there hadn’t been another death yet – or at least, there hadn’t been any more disappearances or bodies found. But he was no closer to finding the killer, nor had any of the others come forward, and things were getting more and more tense in the estate. He couldn’t blame them though – only Phillip trusted him, and he only trusted Phillip. But that wasn’t why he was out patrolling through the corridors, nor was it why he was cursing.
He had gotten used to having Myrrdin with him, having a reliable partner he could trust with everything who didn’t have the same limitations that he himself did. He had no doubt that if Myrrdin had been around, the digital spellcaster would have cheerfully kept a watch over Harold and the others when Harold couldn’t, but that was not possible now. Golems weren’t intelligent enough, and without some kind of linking rune he could tie to the Creature rune, then he couldn’t summon or create anything that actually had a modicum of intelligence.

Which is what led to the situation he was in now. Last night and tonight, and as many nights as were needed, Harold was patrolling through the hallways in the hopes of catching some kind of glimpse of the killer, or where the killer was working. He was also trying to help keep the person who had shown him kindness in this new world safe, and focused a fair bit of his time and effort to patrolling the section of the manor that Phillip and his wife lived in. It was starting to wear on him, but the couple hours of sleep he could manage to get in the middle of the day would suffice for now. He just hoped that he got some kind of a break in the case s-

There was a muffled sound from behind him, and Harold spun around, flattening himself up against the wall in the process. He was immensely glad that he had forgone using a torch and was wearing a dark cloak, as the shadowy confines of the interior hallway had kept whoever was behind him from noticing him. Peering through the gloom, the Rune mage tried to see what was going on, while at the same time trying to figure out where in the estate they were currently in.

The manor was set up in a large rectangle, with two ‘L’ shaped wings that jutted off of the north and south sides, with the town having sprung up around it. Two stories tall, with the lower floor being primarily used for daytime activities and such, with the upper floor being the residences. From the total lack of windows in this corridor he knew they were on one of the interior edges, and with his penchant for sticking near the noble’s immediate family while on his patrol…

Harold’s eyes shot open wide just as the door that the figure in the corridor behind him had stopped at swung out far enough for soft candlelight to escape. That is the young girl’s room! The mage was already on the move, pulling out a chunk of charcoal from his room’s fireplace that he’d tucked in his pocket as he raced forward on silent feet. One had grasped the door handle as the other readied the charred wood, and the door opened to his fear confirmed.

The figure in the room was also wearing a dark cloak, though he’d chosen hard leather shoes over the woolen socks that Harold had gone with, which was what had let the young mage hear his footstep. But the other figure’s attire wasn’t what had Harold’s attention – the curved knife that was raising in the candlelight, grasped in a hand above the child’s bed, tip pointed downwards was. Wasting no time in speech, Harold used what he knew best to stop the killer.

In one unbroken motion Harold drew a rune on the wall beside him, then slapped his palm against it, sending a surge of magic into the drawing. The sound made the killer falter and turn to look, and he saw Harold’s vicious smile even as the wall beside him started crackling with eldritch energies, a thin line of light that ran all along the wall back to the spot where Harold’s hand was. Harold could have sworn there was confusion on the other figure’s face, but the hood kept him from seeing, as a stone shaft – for a club, of course – shot out of the wall next to the killer, slamming into his chest and knocking him away from the sleeping little girl.

Moving quickly, Harold shot forward from the doorway and tried to stamp down on the killer’s hand, but the figure rolled out of the way and came up in a crouch, holding the knife between himself and Harold. That was fine by the mage, he was now between the little girl who was waking up from the commotion and her would-be killer, who was now clearly favoring his side where the stone club had struck him. Harold reached out without taking his eyes off of the killer and snapped the club off of the wall and swung it back and forth, getting a feel for the weapon before raising it defensively. For a moment silence reigned as mage and killer faced off, then the sound of a little girl’s scream set the room into motion.

Harold lunged forward, smacking the thrust knife out of the way with his weapon and narrowly missing his retaliatory strike. The assailant pulled his weapon back exceedingly quickly, then managed to score a light slice on Harold’s arm, that was accompanied by a burning sensation that Harold knew with a certain dread meant that the dagger had been poisoned. However he was able to keep fighting through the wound, and smashed his club down on the attacker’s arm, near the elbow, which made the killer let out a sharp grunt of pain as his weapon tumbled from the stunned hand. Seeing Harold apparently unfazed by his poison and the little girl still screaming behind the mage, the figure bolted from the room, Harold having forgotten to close it as he entered the room.

Once the killer was gone, and Harold could hear other footsteps rapidly approaching, he sagged against the wall, the stone club falling from his hand as he dipped a finger into the blood that was leaking down his other arm. Half-forgotten knowledge was guiding him as he used the other rune that he remembered but hadn’t remembered the purpose for, and a thin trickle of water started flowing from the rune he had drawn in blood above the dagger cut. He let the magic fill the rune as the water flowed across the cut, flushing the worst of the poison from his system. It was too late to prevent the initial effect though, and his vision was filling with darkness rapidly as he saw Phillip, a guardsman, and a young serving girl burst into the room. Both men had drawn longswords at the ready, and the girl had a simpler dagger than what the killer had been using, and all three looked ready to use them. He let out a weak smile as the serving girl dropped her dagger and rushed to his side, while Phillip went to check on his daughter. The guard stood by the door, looking bewildered. Then the darkness took him completely, and Harold knew no more.

[Leoric]

Leoric sighed and took a deep breath, The first day had gone by without his dismemberment. He knew that the rest of the journey was going to be just exhausting so he decided to add a little bit of conversation.

“Okay, so, Sinovera, “ Leoric shifted uncomfortably on his wooden bench. “all we know about this is that a noblemen has been murdered and they are asking for help.”

Leoric took a breathe and thought for a moment what he would do when they arrived that would benefit the investigation. The cart jostled to the left causing Leoric to brace himself. Hopefully my reputation holds up out there. If it doesn't then I may have to knock some heads in to get some answers. The unsavory types always hang out around the taverns.

“Once we check with the family I will head to the tavern. I will ask around the disreputable people there and see what they can tell me. If they don't I will just have to knock some heads in.”

Leoric took a look out the window just in time to see a ghostly white rabbit. Within seconds it was gone from sight and it triggered a few memories in his mind. He had seen the same kind of thing, but a wolf, the night he had met Sinovera. The moment the ghost wolf of that night had touched Leoric something had returned to him, something long since gone. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but it had turned him off from many of the things he enjoyed.

There was something still bothering him. Why was he seeing his old masters meditation animals? Why were the following him? And why did they seem to attach to him so well? His master had been dead for going on seven years now, so why show up now of all places? Leoric shook his head and turned to his companion.

“So I feel like I should warn you, I had an interesting night a few months back with one of the daughters of the valliere's.” He shifted uncomfortably as he looked at the ground. “Everyone thinks, including her, that we had a wonderful one night stand. However, she could not handle the moose piss and was violently ill most of the night. I spent all night cleaning up after her. Next day she wouldn't leave me alone"

Leoric looked back up at Sinovera "What do you think we should do about finding the murderer?"

[Sinovera Of Bloodmoon]

The carriage ride had been relatively quiet with few pleasantries exchanged. Things had been tense between them since the beginning, and Sinovera didn't know if that was going to change anytime soon. She had been more than happy to just sit in silence to look out the window to see the cold, dead landscape. The previous winter had been a brutal one; leaving not one speck of living plant life in its wake. She hoped that the people of the area had been able to store enough food to live through the barren-nature of the winter.

“Okay, so Sinovera,” Leoric's voice drew the Drow's gaze to him. She stared at him blankly as he went on with speaking of a would-be one night stand, and asked her what she thought they should do. She remained quiet for a little while longer. Her gaze grew pensive as she looked out the window once more. She had begun to smell something rather awful that had been growing stronger and stronger as the carriage moved down the rocky terrain.

Once her eyes locked onto a small cottage-like house that had been constructed on the side of the main road. Her mismatched eyes squinted just a bit as she saw the first, rotting, maggot-infested corpse. She swiftly brought up the sleeve of her dress to her nose to save herself the need to vomit. Her ears then picked up the sound of horses snorting, and the carriage began to jostle as the horses began to jump and clomp with nervous energy.

Sinovera ignored the commotion in favor of the small, innocent body that lay in front of the house. At one point in time, the body had been a beautiful little girl with brunette hair. Now all that was left was a half-eaten corpse, staring up at the sky in fear of her attacker. Sinovera had an acute hate for seeing young children dead. Killing young children had always been the one thing that she could never bring herself to do. As the carriage continued riding by the now plague-ridden house Sinovera couldn't help herself as she looked away and wiped her eyes.

She never did understand why she always cried when she saw a dead child. She knew it must have been something from her forgotten past, but it was beyond her reach. She said a quick Elven prayer for the child and her family before finally turning to Leoric, her gaze even more icy than before.

“The arte of assassination is a long-lost arte,” she began, straightening her shoulders to appear more regal. “I do believe that I have a special insight into the mind of such a person. In my personal experience I have found that they do intend to enjoy the arte of becoming close to the victim, or victims,” she paused for a moment to take a drink out of her water-skin. “This is a way for the assassin to find out the victim's weaknesses, fears, and the things that they love the most. By learning such things you can destroy the victim body and soul.” She made an elegant movement with her hands to imitate ripping something apart. “I would suggest that we closely inspect any and all recent additions in the Valliere family.” She went silent once again and relaxed against her seat to look out the window once again.

[Reytac]

Harold awoke slowly, not quite trusting his senses as he did so. He had passed out because of a poison, and that led him to distrust what information his body was giving him. However, the fat that he seemed to be in a bed, warm and safe, boded well. Strangely enough at that, considering when he had passed out he had been in a room where he was fighting… what was he fighting?
The redhead frowned slightly. While he was able to remember being poisoned – and using the Water Rune to clean the wound – his recollection wasn’t able to inform him just why he had been poisoned. And priding himself so highly on his memory, he was not happy that there was such a significant gap in his memory. Even the knowledge that he had remembered the Water Rune wasn’t enough to mitigate the blow to his ego, mostly because of the fact that he knew without a doubt that the way he could use that rune was limited. Apparently his inner reserves of energy weren’t up to the task of Elemental Runes now.
Then the thoughts that were running through the Rune Mage’s mind cleared up as he let out a gasp. The little girl! He looked around frantically, realizing that he was in the chambers that Lord Valliere had assigned him so many days ago now – what, a week to his estimates? – and that there was no angry guardsman or other watcher. The lack of oversight actually eased Harold’s mind some. If the little girl – Phillip’s youngest daughter he believed – had been killed by whoever that…. The fuzzy recollection that Harold had indicated a man, but whoever or whatever it had been had been fully cloaked and keeping their hood up, and had kept from letting out a sound of pain whenever he struck, so his guess could be horribly off. In any case, if the girl had been killed by the assassin, then there would surely be a guard on Harold – to keep watch over the attempted protector who had failed, or to keep watch on a potential killer, whichever they thought was more likely.
That the there was no guard made Harold think that he had been successful in chasing off the clandestine killer, which considering he had no firm memory of what had occurred made him quite proud. Then the feeling of a burning line of pain on his left arm grounded him brining his head back to earth – or whatever this world was called, he still needed to find that one out but hadn’t wanted to seem odd for asking.
Harold turned his gaze to the source of his pain, and let out a slight gasp as he beheld the working on his arm. Instead of a proper suture and bandage, the coarse linen wrapped around his arm had obviously been pulled aside to let the wound breathe. And the wound itself had been sealed by a very rough cross-stitch, one that barely served the purpose of pulling the edges of his skin together. His lips tightened into a thin white line as the act of looking at the cut made the pain from it flare anew in his arm. He carefully flexed his arm to see how far he could move it, and found that he had about fifty percent mobility at the moment. He sighed and stood up slowly, realizing that he had been changed while he was unconscious. The young man frowned at that before shaking his head and moving over to the dresser, where his normal attire had been laid out.

Fifteen minutes later – the time extended by his attempts at being careful with his wounded arm – and Harold stepped out into the hallway, and right into Phillip’s upraised first. The redhead blinked and rubbed his face as the lord stepped back, sheepishly dropping his hand down.
“Sorry about that Magus. I was coming to see if you were awake yet.”
“I… yes. I am. How is the little one?” Harold tilted his head to one side as he regarded Phillip, who seemed to sag in relief as he thought about his daughter.
“Leilana is fine. She was scared when she woke up and until I got her calmed down, but after that she was just worried about you. She wanted to know if her redhead knight was ok.” Harold blinked repeatedly in confusion, his face scrunching up.
“I’m a mage, not a knight though..” Phillip waved his protest off dismissively, chuckling in the process.
“A mere technicality right now. In any case, I thank you greatly.” The two men talked for several more minutes, before Phillip said good-bye and headed off down the corridor, towards his chambers. Harold stepped back into his room, his immediate concern alleviated now that he knew the little girl – Leilana – was safe. He moved over to the curtain and drew it back, frowning as he noticed the sun setting once more.
“No rest for the wicked, or for those who oppose them.” He sighed and shook his head, letting the curtain fall back into place as he looked around the room. That is when he noticed a new addition to the chamber that he hadn’t seen before – leaning against the wall near the door, where he really should have seen it before walking out, was a staff, capped in iron down at the bottom, made of a dark wood. The strange part is that at the top, there was a sharp blade of metal emerging from what was obviously made to be a staff and not a spear. He walked over to the weapon, and found a note tucked behind it. He lifted it off of the wall and glanced over the page which was written on vellum, then frowned.
He couldn’t read a damn word it said. Thankfully though there were etchings on the paper as well, showing the staff, in one picture with the blade out, and another with the blade retracted. A strange twisty motion was indicated between the two, and on a hunch Harold gripped the staff near where hands would normally reside on it and gave it a sharp tug in opposite directions. There was a click, and the blade slid back into the haft of the weapon, the only indication of its existence now a thin slit where it would emerge. He hefted the weapon and gave it a few practice swings. It wasn’t quite right for him, but it was better than the impromptu weapons he could currently make. Nodding to himself, he took the staff and set out into the halls, resuming his patrol on this new night.
The night was quiet for the first few hours as Harold made sure to patrol near where Phillip and his family resided. The nobleman had tried to tell Harold that it wasn’t necessary, and from the heavily increased number of guardsmen outside their chambers, he supposed that might be true. But he wasn’t leaving anything up to chance while someone who could pull off those kills was around. But he did let his roamings travel further afield, exploring more and more of the castle as he worked his way through the night.
It was down on the bottom floor, near the closed off portion of the castle, that he found something was amiss. What should have been a barred and sealed door was hanging ajar, and the dust that should have been sitting around it was obviously disturbed by footfalls. Harold gripped his staff tighter as he slipped through the doorway as quietly as he could manage, wondering what was going on here. Had he found where the killer was making his lair? The hallway beyond the door was dark, completely dark, as the only light was what came through the cracked doorway behind him. But he could make out the faint glow of torchlight coming from somewhere much further down the hall, and he padded down the hallway on soft feet, trying to remain undetected.
It turned out that the torchlight was actually halfway down a set of stairs, one that Harold hadn’t been told existed. Harold’s eyes widened as he realized what this meant – there was a dungeon below the manor. Should have expected it true, but he hadn’t thought of it in the wake of everything happening. This explained how the killer had been able to keep his victims secret until he was ready to dispose of the body, keeping them in a forgotten dungeon in a closed off section of the castle would be perfect for hiding any screams of pain. He made his way down the stairs slowly, pausing beneath the torch to check behind him to see if he was being followed. Seeing no one, he continued down.
The heavy door that he found at the bottom of the stairs was left half open, and Harold froze in his footsteps as he heard a loud scream, one that to his unfortunately trained ear, sounded filled with pain and anguish. Somehow, the killer had captured another victim, and was torturing them here and now. A red haze filled his gaze as he slammed through the doorway, twisting his staff to reveal the blade. The sight he saw before him chilled him to the bone even as he rushed forward, not pausing in his steps.
There was a man hanging from a hook on a wall, a hook that had actually been impaled through his hands. A tail hung between his legs, looking like a devil’s tail, and curved horns sat atop his head. His skin was almost bone white, nearly the same shade as his horns, but his blood was red as it dribbled down his side from the wound that had been carved into it, expanding and contracting slightly as he took in ragged breaths.

Harold wasted no time as he finished charging into the room, lunging forward and managing to catch the killer who was turning to look somewhere else in the room in the back. His staff-blade sliced through the back of the killer as another scream rang out – and Harold’s blood froze in his veins when he realized that the screaming wasn’t coming from the man on the wall, but from off to the side. He tried to twist his head around to look at what was going on, but all he saw was a serving girl holding a large club, that was swinging into his face. Twice now, that girl was the last thing he saw before everything went black.

[Dimitri Blackwood]

Soft torchlight illuminated a cold, nearly lifeless dungeon down below the mansion. Within the dungeon there only two inhabitants; both in different cells. The soft illumination had been dwindling throughout the day. One of the few reminders of the night before, and an indicator for when they would be visited once again by their tormentor. Each one breathed shallowly, afraid that a strong enough breath would blow out their only source of light.

In the larger of the two occupied cells there was a six foot four man of demonic origins. His pale skin was nearly translucent in the dim light. Ragged, torn clothing adorned his muscled physique, showing healing wounds, and pale white scars. Ebony black eyes stared at a wall as he slammed his head back into the wall he was leaning up against, making two out of his four horns grate against the stone. They were a white contrast against the gray, blood-covered wall. Where his horns had stricken there was a clearly worn area of the wall.

“You are going to break them off if you keep doing that,” a soft, female voice called from another cell.

The half-demon laughed bitterly before slamming his horns back into the wall with more vehemence, causing the woman to let out a squeak of surprise, and slight fear. “After these long months do you really believe that I care for breaking my horns?” He asked in a sultry, frustrated tone.

“N—no. I suppose n—not,” the woman replied with a quiet, meek voice.

The demon let out a sigh before getting up from his seated position, letting his bladed tail scrape against the stone floor as he did. He took a few steps towards the door to his cell, making the chains attached to him clink against the ground. “I apologize, little one. The pain has been getting to me today,” he said.

A soft ruffling noise was heard before the other spoke again. “What did he do to you last night, Dimitri?” She asked softly.

“He had an obsession with hooks last night,” he said as he looked down at his hands, attempting to not move them too much as he inspected the black, blood-covered hooks that had speared through his hands the night before. When he had recovered his consciousness earlier that day he had attempted to pull them out, only to be met with an agonizingly burning sensation. The blood that had dripped onto the hooks had hardened, creating a sort of glue-like bond to make it difficult for him to escape from his bonds.

“Does it still hurt?” More rustling was heard.

“It hurts like a fucking bitch,” he growled, letting his hands fall to his sides. “How are you feeling?” He asked, attempting to stick his head out of the bars to take a look at his companion, only succeeding to clank his horns against the bars and catch a glimpse of a greasy, soft-looking curtain of brunette hair.

“He accidentally tossed me on the ground last night,” she was deathly quiet as her grimy hands wrapped around the bars of her prison. Her grip was strong enough to make her knuckles go white. “I landed on my stomach,” she paused again, taking in a deep breath. “I haven't felt it move in so long,” her voice was barely heard over the soft clanking her shaking hands were making with the bars.

“Have you attempted to poke at it?” His heart began to beat just a bit faster with the thoughts the woman was putting through his mind.

“That's the first thing I tried,” she said, grunting in pain as she poked her stomach. “He's been underfeeding me,” there was a loud clang as her open palm made contact with the cell door. “I don't want to lose it!” She cried out, only to be met with her voice echoing back at her.

“You won't lose it,” Dimitri attempted to reach his pale, slender hand out towards her, only to be met with an agonizing pulling sensation in his hand. He growled in frustration as he retreated. “It might just be sleeping,” he grumbled as he rubbed around his hand wound.

“I-I haven't felt right in the last f-few days,” she stuttered out.

“You, and it, will be okay. You are a strong woman,” he said as he reached his thick, bladed tail out of the cell door and into the cell next to his. He allowed a small smile to spread his pale lips as he felt her ice-cold, small hands touch it. “And has any of this situation been “right”?”

“No, I suppose not,” she chuckled softly as she tightened her grip on his bladed tail. They stayed like that in silence. Both watched the torchlight as it slowly grew dimmer and dimmer. Soon the dungeon was invaded by darkness as the last embers faded away. A small whimper escaped the woman right before t he torchlight blazed in a blinding display of light. The next thing Dimitri heard was the woman screaming out in agony, effectively drowning out the sound of metal grating on stone as the entrance-door opened.

“What's wrong?” He cried, attempting rip his door open to get to her.

“The baby, something's wrong!” She screamed out. Dimitri felt her let go of his tail and he began to bang on the door to his prison in earnest. In the process of doing this he almost didn't notice the tall, cloaked figure that had walked into the large hallway outside of the cells.

“Demon, what have I told you about trying to get out of your cage?” The dark figure said in an emotionless fashion.

Dimitri's black globes went to the figure and he let out a vicious snarl. “Let her go! She is going to lose the child!” He screamed in fury towards the man. His tail had begun to flail wildly around his cell, like an irritated cat. The blade upon his tail ripped at any furnishings that laid within his cell.

Below the hood that had darkened the tormentor's face Dimitri could have sworn that he had caught a glimpse of a smile. “Now you are making a mess of your room? Tsk tsk tsk,” the man raised his hands and snapped his fingers. The click of the lock being undone rung sweetly into Dimitri's pointed ears. He ran for the door, intent on getting to his companion.

He had been able to catch a small glimpse of fallen black feathers before a burning agony invaded his hands as the hooks stopped giving and began to pull him back, away from the woman's cell door. He snarled in pain as his bared heels scraped against the jagged, crimson-stained stone of the floor. As he passed his tormentor he attempted to bring his bladed tail up to stab him straight in the heard, but he was met with a harder yank that made him cry out. He began to fear that his hands were going ot be ripped apart.

“Let me go!” He snarled as the screaming of the woman invaded his ears yet again.

“Stop being insolent, demon,” his attacker said, malice dripping off every word as he raised his hands, causing Dimitri to be lifted up. He was raised five feet above the ground by his hands, causing even more strain upon his already wounded hands. Dimitri began to spat out a string of profanities as he wriggled and writhed.

“Get the fuck away from me!” He screamed at him. His composure had completely dissipated along with all but the smallest glimpse of the cell his companion laid within. He tried to crane his head to be able to catch a glimpse of her, but the only thing he could see chilled him to the bone. Blood was slowly oozing its way out of the cell and towards the cloaked man.

“Tell me, Demon,” the man said as the blood drifted to his side. “What is my specialty, hmm?” The blood at the man's side began to thicken and ooze upwards. This created a thick, staff-like shaft that rose to be shoulder-height with the black-clad man. A low, sadistic chuckle escaped him as he wrapped his hand around the blood-born staff. The staff began to glow as the finishing touch was grown onto it. A razor sharp blade that stood proudly at the top.

The half demon's upper lip curled into a snarl to reveal the Vampire-like fangs that graced his mouth. “You have showed me time and again, witch,” he growled through his teeth. The emaciated muscle of his arms and neck began to tense, making veins bulge from the stress.

“I have,” the man paused for a moment to softly stroke the crimson-staff. “Allow me to show you again,” he said as he grabbed the staff and lunged it forward, making a glancing shot against Dimitri's side. This opened up his rib cage to the air. Dark-red blood oozed from the wound and dripped from his side. Dimitri, instead of offering him the pleasure of a pained scream, instead bit down on his lower lip until blood began to drip from his mouth. The cloaked man chuckled at the demon's blatant attempt at remaining silent as he turned.

“Come here, lovely girl. We are going to make the pain go away,” the man cooed. Dimitri began to struggle once again, craning his neck to see through tear-clouded eyes to see what the man was doing.

The man moved just out of sight from Dimitri and he heard a cell door open. “No, get away from me!” The woman screamed as the frantic sounds of a bird taking flight filled the half-demon's ears.

“Get away from her!” Dimitri screamed, unable to do anything, for he feared of losing his hands.

“Get on your back and open your legs,” the voice was barely above a soothing whisper as he spoke. “Be a good girl.”

Slowly the frantic rustling of feathers quieted down to leave only the sound of sobbing. “It hurts so much,” she sobbed. A soft thud was heard as she presumably did as the man said.

“Sister, come in here and help me would you?” The man exclaimed before a small, blonde-haired woman came into the dungeon. She wore a floor-length maid's uniform with a plunging neckline.

“Come dear!” She called back as she dodged Dimitri's failed attempted at stabbing her with his tail and ducked around the infuriating corner. Dimitri yelled out in frustration at his inability to do anything, and profanities kept ripping from his throat until it was raw.

Finally, after what seemed like a century, the woman's cries of agony cooled to a soft, exhausted-sounding sob. Dimitri had given up the struggle of freeing himself and had proceeded to slump, relaxing his body. Dark bags had invaded the half-demon's eyes, one of the many flaws that had been bestowed upon him in his time of torment. He rose his head only when he heard the soft thud of boots on stone. His eyes met the eyes of his tormentor, then they traveled down to completely freeze on the small, blood-soaked, fully formed infant cradled within his arms.

The small infant wriggled weakly in the mans arms, it's small lungs trying to work in the new environment. Dimitri's mind had blanked out completely except for one thought. That the child was beautiful. It had been a perfect amalgamation of her parents. Atop its little, soft head were two little nubs that would grow to be vicious looking horns. Her skin was a beautiful milky-white colour. Upon her back were the small wings of a raven, and betwixt her small, overly thin legs was a small, wriggling tail. Dimitri had not thought that she could get anymore beautiful, but then she opened her small, tired-looking eyes. They were little globes of glittering forest green.

His stupor was broken in an instant, however, when the child let out a gurgling cough that made blood begin to dribble out of its small mouth. Dimitri's blood ran cold as he watched the small infant wriggle more within the black clad arms of the tormentor. She tried to cry, but the oxygen required to cry was being blocked by the blood flooding the poor infants lungs.

“Oh dear,” the man started as he gently rubbed the small girl's cheek with a single, glove-clad finger.

“Can you save her?” Dimitri asked, his voice hopeful for just a moment.

The man looked up at Dimitri, staring into his black globes. “You misunderstand, demon,” the man said as he slowly wrapped his hand around the little girl's neck. “It wasn't supposed to live,” he said as his hand twisted. The smallest and most heartbreaking of pops was heard, then the child lay still in an eternal sleep.

Dimitri stared at the limp, lifeless body of his only child for a moment, in complete shock of what had just occurred. Then, slowly, his entire body tensed with rage, and his eyes appeared to light up with a fire unlike any other. He began to struggle against his bonds. He also attempted to snap his tail across the man's throat to at least do some damage, but the man simply stepped back. He nearly winced as he heard the shriek of a mother who had just lost her child, but the man ignored her as he raised his hand to the infants face and closed his eyes. His fingers twitched just a little as blood slowly began to flow from the infants ears, nose, mouth, and eyes to form into a large ball of crimson blood within the man's raised hand. The process was as torturous as having one's skin slowly torn off piece by piece to Dimitri. He wanted to get to the child, to cradle its dead body within his arms, but all he could do was watch as its pale, white skin turned gray. He slumped in defeat, unable to take his eyes away from the horrific scene before him.

Soon, the infant had been drained completely of any hint of blood within it's little body the tormentor carelessly tossed the body off to the side, seeming to not hear the cracks of more tiny bones breaking within the body as his gaze stayed on the crimson ball of innocent blood. He reached into a small pouch that was attached to his hip to bring out a glass jar. He then quickly opened the jar and enclosed the blood within it. He then heard a yell of rage and he turned to see who had uttered it, but the sharp sensation of a blade slicing into his back kept him in place. He stiffened and did his best to hold onto the glass containing the crimson innocence as he nearly dropped it. He did not yell in pain because he was used to pain. Another scream was heard from the child's mother, which had distracted the attacker.

The stabbing sensation gave way to a simmering burn he turned to find his sister swinging a club at the Rune Mage's head, causing the Mage to crumple to the ground and fall into unconsciousness.

The tormentor growled in rage and walked over to where his sister and the Mage were and he gave the mage several swift kicks to let out some pent up rage before turning to his sister. “Bloody fool,” he growled before grabbing his sister around the waist and pressing her up against him, not caring that she was covered in the fluids of childbirth. “You did well though, little minx,” he whispered softly as he slipped his tongue into the soft folds of her lips. “Now, what are we going to do with him?”

[Philomel]

Name of Judgement: Debt of Blood (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?28621-Debt-of-Blood-%28Closed%29)
Judgement Type: No Judgement
Participants: Leoric, Sinovera Bloodmood, Reytac and Dimitri Blackwood

Rewards:

Leoric (http://www.althanas.com/world/member.php?17185-Leoric) receives:
245 EXP
35 GP

Sinovera Bloodmoon (http://www.althanas.com/world/member.php?17731-Sinovera-Of-Bloodmoon) receives:
325 EXP
45 GP

Reytac (http://www.althanas.com/world/member.php?17757-Reytac)receives:
300 EXP
45 GP

Dimitri Blackwood (http://www.althanas.com/world/member.php?17737-Dimitri-Blackwood) receives:
75 EXP
15 GP

[Rayleigh]

All EXP and GP have been added!