Fable - Ask A Killer’s Penance

[Shade]

Rythal watched his captive and pursed his lips. He tilted his head one way, and then another. Pops from his neck came from the stretches, and he settled down watching her again.

"You would make a good warrior for my ends, by your skills." He began slowly, obviously still thinking and weighing things. "I am not sure I would ever be able to trust you." After such a short time since the murder attempt, that should have been obvious, though he said it as if he had almost expected otherwise. "Whatever your culture thinks of failure, I think you will try to kill me again the moment I free you from your ensnarement. Isn't that so?"

He smirked again, as if this was all just a game he played. He didn't seem the least bit perturbed by the attempt on his life.

"I think I have another use for you." He stood and stretched a bit. "Yes, I think you will take some time to be of much direct use to me. However, you will serve quite well as a message for whatever faction hired you. In time, you may find that serving me and my goals may be better than what you find in the world. I have time."

He stretched his arms out to the sides and tilted his head up towards the sky. The sky was starting to darken as the sun just barely touched the horizon to the west, the beginning of sunset.

Flames of shadow black and eldritch purple shot from his hands and lit the ring of stones in which they stood. When his head tilted down to look at her, they flamed as they had before.

"Nin gwathren post bo cín ind. Nin gwathren dant-bo cín faer. Nin gwathren lumb cín rív." He intoned, then paused.

"Nin gwathren post bo cín ind. Nin gwathren dant-bo cín faer. Nin gwathren lumb cín rív." He intoned a second time, and the flames grew around the stone circle and Rythal floated above the spot where he had stood. His form suffused with starlight, though the sky still showed blue through gaps in the gray and white clouds above.

"Nin gwathren post bo cín ind. Nin gwathren dant-bo cín faer. Nin gwathren lumb cín rív." He intoned a third time, his flesh becoming almost pure starlight. His eyes limned in purple, and his hands came forward, an arcing trail in purple left behind as they came to rest palms forward towards the ensnared warrior.

The spell as cast would mark the warrior as belonging to Rythal. Any with arcane knowledge would know that she had been marked in such a way as had not been seen outside of Vel Anir's darkest periods of history.

 

[Diyah]

He spoke to him, and she listened. He was correct on many fronts, she could be useful to him, and no he couldn’t trust her, and yes, she would kill him at the first opportunity. But what he did next came as a surprise, she had no idea he could utilize the ring of stones in order to cast a spell. Not that she wasn’t aware that this was possible, she just didn’t anticipate that he would be able to utilize this circle of stones. But he did, and to her infinite shame, she felt fear clamp down on her heart, she was completely defenseless, which only aided her fear, and she had no idea what to expect.

Had she only experienced physical pain she wouldn’t fear him, pain was but weakness departing from her, but he had attacked and enslaved her mind, and that terrified her, and the idea that she might be mentally changed by this man and she could do nothing to stop it was utterly and completely terrifying to her.

The magic approached her, and her fear, which somehow gave her more willpower, gave her just enough strength to step back once, in a vain effort to escape her fate. The magic reached her, and right between her shoulder blades a mark appeared, and she felt unutterable, searing agony that whited out her mind and forced her to her knees a second time. It wasn’t until the ordeal was over that her screaming could stop, and by then she was breathing raggedly, and tears had forced their way to her eyes.

(What’s the mark look like?)

 

[Shade]

The mark drew a rune that looked similar to Elvish, but distinct. It was a rune of the Elvish offshoot that Sidereal Elves spoke and wrote with. A scholar of the Elvish tongue would be able to identify it as similar to an ancient rune for Shadow. Its shape was almost like the outline of an upside down onion bulb, just elongated, with a backwards 'J' in the very middle of the bulb.

The ebon and purple flames subsided, and Rythals feet touched the earth once more. He brushed his hands on his pants, then clasped them infront of himself as he watched the woman.

"I've marked you, young warrior. Wherever you go, whatever you do, you are mine." He smirked, then, a satisfied look coming over his face. His form began to fade, the edges becoming wispy shadows as his feet left the earth again. "I will make it so it is known you failed. I think the nearby village seeing a shadowy form casting my flames over their homes and fields will alert whoever hired you to this. I'm sure they will know my signature, if they sent you against me. Once I am far enough away, the spell ensnaring your mind will fade, and you will be free to leave this circle. I will find you once you are more willing to converse with me."

He chuckled softly, an altogether not evil sounding laugh, though quite possibly tinged with madness.

Rythals form became entirely shadow, and flew up into the approaching night in the direction of the nearest town. Black and purple flames trailed through the sky, an obvious show for any to see.

 

[Diyah]

She collapsed, on her knees and elbows and her head down, both in weakness and to hide her tears. She had never anticipated that this fate would befall her. It was something her people did, but she had always been numbered among the strong so she didn't worry about this.

But she failed, he was stronger than she by a great deal, and she was paying the price for it.

She didn't much care for a village's destruction, they weren't her people. What stung her was that she was now as defenceless as they were. And he disappeared, to eradicate the lives of the nearby humans, and she silently wept.

By dark her tears had dried, and she had left the ring of stones. But what had happened stayed with her, and taught her much, never, underestimate, anything. But her contemplation also brought to mind a saying from her people, the weak survive only by serving the strong.


She'd have to serve him. Eventually. It was her people's way.