Chaos and Control

[Syrathan]

Syrathan groomed his horse, Paragon, slowly pulling the brush through the stark white mane. The dappled morning light seemed to sing over the horse. He had just eaten breakfast, the leftovers of a root stew from a few days ago. He had not eaten meat in almost a week, and was seething with hungry aggravation.

Bastion screeched, waking from his late slumber. Syrathan shot him a look, as though he could convey his emotion to the falcon in such a way. The half elf's eyes shifted past the falcon, to the small village of Shim, one of the two centers of population in this area. It was much easier to snag stragglers here than the more strict Marn, but this area was still a scarce area for his kind. The northern trade route out of Keltaris kept him alive, and he didn't really know exactly why he was lingering about this backwater piece of filth.

Finishing the mane, he packed the brushes and donned the leather bracer that would protect him from the talons of the bird of prey. He stuck his arm out towards the avian, a motion it well knew. It flapped its wings once and hopped over onto the bracer. Syrathan leaned in close to the bird's head. "Fly, Bastion. Hunt." At that last word, the falcon, as if anticipating it, lurched from his perch to the hunt.

Syrathan, unstrapping his bracer, sunk to a sitting position against a nearby tree. He had not yet donned his armor, and he did not feel much like it today. He would later, after Bastion returned from his hunt. Syrathan's stomach grumbled. I hope he fares better than I this morn.

[Vanyusha]

A terrible screech cut through the crisp morning air, followed by a pathetic whimper. After a few moments, it faded into silence.

Vanyusha towered over his latest specimen like a reaper, staring down at it from behind his skeletal mask. He normally preferred to operate in the shadow of night, but there was a certain pleasure in seeing his subject's desperation in the sunlight. He couldn't observe the pain on its face, as it had lost it long ago; but he could feel the agony within its body, the sorrow within its mind. The creature knew that no matter how loudly it cried, no matter how many times it attempted to scurry away, it would never escape his grasp. But even in the face of futility, it resisted his power. It was doomed from the start, and yet it fought.

"Such is the nature of mortals, mmm? Truly fascinating," the wraith spoke as he drove the ceremonial knife deep into the specimen's gooey flesh. "But we can't exactly call you mortal, now can we?"

This loophole in his curse allowed him to keep himself occupied without any access to mortals. He could not lay a hand on another being, but that rule did not apply to his minions, the minds within his body, as they were now part of him. As he sliced through the small, dark creature, it cried out and attempted to flee, but to no avail -- its master's tentacle quickly pulled it back, then slammed it against a nearby tree for its insubordination.

He lifted his minion to his eye level and drove his tentacle into the back of its head, causing it to let out another terrible scream. "I remember you quite clearly," he spoke to the abomination, running a clawed hand down its face. "Your father fought valiantly to protect you, yes... I loved watching the love in your eyes first turn to terror. But you no longer offer me the same satisfaction. I doubt you even remember who you were. Useless."

Before he could continue with his session, Vanyusha glimpsed a figure nearby. He instinctively retracted his arm-tentacle and pulled his servant under his cloak, dropping his dagger in the process, before retreating under the shade of a nearby tree. Experimenting during the day held its risks; no doubt the traveler heard his creature crying out. He remained still beneath the tree branch, hoping that the man would leave the area and go about his business.

[Syrathan]

Syrathan had heard something. He rose from his resting place, grabbing his sword from the ground. Assuring he had his knife also, he quickly donned his armor, rote after so many repetitions of the task, and headed toward the disturbance.

He was horrified, and yet interested in a macabre manner, at what he saw. No matter how he tried to fully examine the figure, he could not shake the image of the skull in front of him. Murder was his first instinct, but curiosity precluded him. He watched the sickening creature, not doing particularly anything for the moment. Syrathan was fairly sure he was out of immediate sight, but if it started looking for him, he was sure he would be seen.

[Vanyusha]

Vanyusha's eyes followed the figure as it moved through the trees, heading, as he'd expected, in his direction. As hard as he tried to avoid mortals, they often stumbled upon him and interfered his work, often when his cravings were at their strongest. Their intrusions would have been welcome when he could have captured them for research, but those days were long gone. He was starting to wonder if his enemy had cursed him with bad luck, as well.

He soon lost sight of the man, but knew that he hadn't left. Had the stranger tried to leave, the rustling of the leaves and cracking of the twigs would have betrayed his movements. But there was no sound, only the silence of the woods. Not only was the man nearby, he was remaining still. But why? Perhaps he'd frozen in fear after seeing him. Or perhaps... he was preparing an attack.

Either way, Vanyusha didn't care. He had a lot of work ahead of him, and this intruder was wasting his time. If he was afraid, he would show that he meant know harm; and if he intended to kill him, then so be it.

"I know you are here," Vanyusha said, stepping forward. "I will not harm you, as it is not in my nature. I merely wish to continue with my research." He tilted his head to the side, still scanning the area for any sign of the man. "Unless you have business with me, I request that you leave. My hunger grows."

[Syrathan]

"Ha," said Syrathan, stepping boldly from his hiding place into the clearing, sword still clutched in one hand, dagger in the other. "Your hunger grows, whilst I have not tasted human nor elven flesh for nigh on a week." Syrathan was growing angry, the hunger tearing at his already gossamer-thin sanity. "I doubt you eat of anything."

Syrathan brandished his sword, resting the last third of the blade on the shoulder of the creature. "If I was under the persuasion that you were edible, you would be a carcass this moment." At close range, Syrathan shuddered at the adrenaline his body was flooded with at the sight of this monster. However, he was fascinated with the creature.

"As for your vaunted 'research'," he continued, "I sincerely doubt they are as savory as your tone dictates, even if the only indication of such is your appearance. Furthermore, I happened to hear the wretched scream your...experiment"- he spat this word bitterly- "elicited. You are as evil as I."

[Vanyusha]

Vanyusha listened patiently as Syrathan spoke to him, remaining completely still. Once he finished, he partially opened his robe with his clawed hand, revealing the mess of black ooze beneath. His tentacle was still fused to the creature he had been torturing, and the two appeared to be connected by golden, lightly glowing veins. His ooze began to wrap itself around the creature and slowly absorbed it back into his body, finally silencing its whimpers. The tentacle reformed back into his arm, and he closed his robe again.

"I do not concern myself with mortal mortality," he answered. "Whether you consider my work 'evil' is irrelevant. My current state prevents me from studying anything other than my personal specimens. Their reactions to pain, while no longer interesting, serve my needs."

Unfazed by the blade resting on his shoulder, he stepped forward so that he and Syrathan were inches apart and looked down at him. "Your words, however, do interest me. You classify yourself as evil -- rather odd for a mortal -- and admit to consuming the flesh of your kind, which, as far as I understand, is frowned upon. You are not like the common mortals that stumble upon my work."

He leaned his head forward so that he was at Syrathan's level. "...A pointy-ear. Young. Armed. Aggressive. I would have enjoyed testing such a mind, but that is beyond my power... for now. You may be useful."

[Syrathan]

Syrathan was secretly very pleased. He was not so lacking in self-awareness to know that his naturally chaotic self was detrimental in his situation. If he could have a 'head', so to speak, someone with a similar goal, he could become much more successful.

"Useful? I can be much more than useful. What are you proposing, exactly?"

[Vanyusha]

Vanyusha straightened. "Because of an incident in the past, I am unable to physically harm any living being. This restriction has negatively impacted my research, as I'm sure you can imagine. At most, I can only inflict psychological damage on my targets. I've been forced to satisfy my urges on my own servants.

But your abilities are not limited as mine are, and I can tell that you have no objections against harming your own kind. I need someone who can act as my body, someone who can follow my instructions to the letter. You would be helping me collecting targets and torturing them in the most painful ways imaginable. Children are often the most interesting specimens, so you would be abducting them frequently.

In return for your services, you will be permitted to feast on my targets once I've finished with them. In some cases, you may be allowed to cannibalize them while they're alive. If you subdue and capture anyone that I have not designated as a specimen, you may do to them as you wish. Does this interest you?"

[Syrathan]

Syrathan grinned at the creature, pure malice in his eyes. "I'm famished."

[Vanyusha]

"I'm pleased to hear that."

Vanyusha turned away from him and walked a few feet away. He stared off into the distance, silently weighing his options. For now, he had a dangerous killer willing to kill and torture innocents for his experiments. People like this boy were hard for him to come by. He had several like him in his service during his attack on that foreign city so many years ago, and their relationship had been mutually beneficial. Still, that had been long ago, and he had been operating on his own for longer than he could remember.

But was this boy as capable as he seemed? He had the spirit, but perhaps not the ability. No doubt he was experienced in killing, but Vanyusha wondered if he would be able to bring in as many specimens as he desired.

An evaluation was in order, he decided.

The wraith looked over at his new companion. "I have been living in this forest for some time now, carefully watching its inhabitants. You are the first I've interacted with, since I've been rather wary of your kind since a bad run-in with an ignorant male and his mindless bed-warmer of a companion. Still, I've come across more than a few that would... suit our needs.

There is a family currently camping near the center of the forest. Husband and wife, three children. Two of the children are small, and one is a young woman around your age. I am interested in the wife and two children; you may do as you wish to the others. If you kill the others, I would like the children to watch, but that is not mandatory."

He paused. "But before we head on our way, we should take care of introductions. I am called Vanyusha. You are?"

[Syrathan]

"Syrathan. I shall be back momentarily."

Syrathan, overjoyed, returned to Paragon and Bastion, who were still waiting patiently where they were left. Bastion, whom he envied for his ability to find food, made a soft noise when he approached. Syrathan peered at him warily, then donned the rest of his armor, his manica last. He strung his bow and carried it after sheathing his other weapons and slinging his quiver.

The half-elf heaved himself onto Paragon, already armored, and tapped the flanks with his heels softly, prompting the horse to move. He looked behind him at the perched falcon and clicked his tongue. The well-trained Bastion swooped into the air, pulling up to circle in the air above his master.

When Syrathan passed Vanyusha, he shot the wraith a smug look, not stopping to speak to him. Or it, I suppose. Vanyusha silently pointed in the direction he was to go, though Syrathan knew where they were from what the other had said minutes before.

After a few more tedious moments, Syrathan could see the smoke from a morning fire. A half-smile crept onto his face. What to do? So many options: should he fire an arrow into a tree to incite fear? Should he creep up and kill the man first? He felt much like a good ravaging, and decided he would let Vanyusha leave the children alone. Were any of the children girls? He stopped just out of eyesight and earshot, gazing out of focus toward the unfortunate camp.

[Vanyusha]

Vanyusha removed his walking stick from his robe and headed in the camp's direction. He doubted that Syrathan would fail this assignment, but he wanted to see how the boy handled himself in a fight. Although Syrathan's armor and horse gave him the image of a skilled warrior, that didn't mean he had any innate talent. Nevertheless, he had a good feeling about him.

He stopped after a few moments and looked into the distance. Hopefully, he would arrive before Syrathan finished the job; and if not, then he would at least know the boy was quick and efficient. And then he would see how he handled himself against stronger opponents. If he hoped to expand his research to Marn, then he needed an especially gifted assistant.

"This is a rare opportunity. Do not disappoint me, Syrathan," he said to himself as he walked.

Meanwhile, a large, burly man stood over a wooden table, chopping up meat with a cleaver for his family's breakfast. He looked over at his wife, who was sewing by the fire, and gave her a smile. "Can't believe I actually managed to kill that deer, can you? Thing was damn near twice my size!"

His wife sighed. "We know, dear. We sat it. And you told us about it twice since then."

Their two youngest children, a boy and a girl no older than eight, were building castles out of dirt. Their eldest daughter was sitting near the tent, reading a book that she had brought from home. She sighed and turned a page. "I still don't see why you had to drag me along. I could have stayed with my friends for the weekend, but nooooo," she grumbled to herself.

[Syrathan]

Syrathan aimed his bow, centering on the head of the man. He released calmly with an exhalation. He saw through one eye the death of the man; his stomach grumbled slightly. The older woman tried to run; he let loose a series of tongue clicks that told Bastion two things: bring her back, and don't harm her.

He pushed Paragon into motion, sweeping past the other, younger woman and grabbing her by the hair. He did not worry about the children; they were both faint, clearly in shock. It was the woman he was interested in. He swung off of the horse, pinning her to the ground. It had been too long.

Surprisingly, the woman did not resist. She was obviously out of her right mind, but she pressed up against him with a surprising ferocity. Syrathan slid down her, kissing her now-bare stomach. His stomach grumbled slightly.

[Vanyusha]

Vanyusha stepped into the clearing from between two trees. "I can see that you've been enjoying yourself," he commented dryly, his eyes falling on the two women.

It had been nearly an hour since Syrathan had departed for the camp. Vanyusha had hoped to catch up to him sooner, but his body was hardly in a state for extensive travel, so he had accepted that he'd miss the fight this time. Besides, judging from the remains of the man, the fight hadn't lasted long at all. Syrathan killed efficiently, just as he had hoped.

He observed the women: The daughter sat near the fire, nude and in shock; the mother, who had been retrieved by the falcon, lay unconscious at her side, her clothing torn to shreds. "I'd expected that you would have devoured them, but what you do with your prey is none of my concern. I'm only interested in my targets."

The wraith glanced to the side and saw the little girl sitting near her father's corpse, staring down at it; the boy, however, was nowhere to be found. He walked over to the girl, and, in a sudden motion, opened his robe and revealed what appeared to be a gigantic, fanged maw on his chest. He morphed his arms into tentacles and pulled the screaming child into his maw, then closed it down on her, silencing her cries.

Standing up, he closed his robe again and looked to Syrathan. "She will be safe until we arrive at my lair. But I'm afraid that the set is incomplete: It seems the boy wandered off while you were having your fun. I'm anxious to see your hunting skills for myself, so I count this a pleasant development. Shall we be off, then?"

[Syrathan]

Syrathan had had a good day. He had an entire body for consumption, nice, lean meat. He had pleasured himself deliciously twice that day. He had a mentor to guide him. And he had a hunt. He was atop Paragon, with Bastion searching above. Syrathan prided himself on his animal companions. He had headed off in the direction he supposed the boy had gone around a half-hour ago, and found a scrap of clothing, which had cemented his direction and given Bastion a definite search area.

From nowhere, the boy's figure popped into vision. He hadn't moved; Syrathan's eyes had just picked him up where seconds earlier he was hidden. Dismounting as if he hadn't seen him, which was difficult given the startled jolt he received, he drew his dagger. Lightning fast, Syrathan grabbed at the boy's hiding place. He aimed for an arm, but almost missed. He had to sink his fingernails into the boy's forearm to keep his grip. Dropping the dagger, he grabbed the other boy's arm.

The boy's kicking and fighting was annoying, but no great hassle. Syrathan transfered both arms to one hand's sure grip, then picked up his dagger again and rapped the boy quickly on the back of the skull with the pommel. The kicking stopped, and the boy became dead weight.

Syrathan returned to camp, almost bored again.