Completed The Awakening Ball

[Gideon Varnay]

"Some would claim, "Some secrets are better left buried."
These people would be wise for their time, and more often than not... tragically ignored.
"Some evils the world simply cannot withstand!" Yet the world is still here after countless unstoppable evils.

When we finally found the tomb our thralls had a tough time of it as they levered the casket out of the tomb... Little more than a hole in the ground by the looks of it, but that casket was there, just like the master claimed. The iron resting place of an immortal, his coffin is wrapped about and secured tightly with locks and chains, likely by enemies after he had been sealed away as a warning to anyone who finds it to not release whatever lay inside.
Maybe we are fools, but if we are to survive the coming onslaught we need an edge, our kind cannot be allowed to face total destruction!

I write this now as a last testament of my final thoughts, so that others might know of the part I played in the salvation of our species... I fear once we release the immortal that we will not survive his power, but I know that he will save vampire kind so I know that my sacrifice will not be in vain... I hear his appetites are... insatiable..."
- The last writings of a vampire -

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The Awakening Ball.

An event that happens once every century when a powerful immortal has awakened from their slumber.
Normally a quiet event given the monstrous status of most immortal creatures, none would wish their enemies to learn of their return in favor of the element of surprise.
These awakening balls are events where the awakened can indulge in order to regain their strength after their long slumber.
But nothing about this ball was normal...

A few days before the ball was held, the vampire in question was awakened, and with his awakening nearly every vampire in Arethil was immediately made aware of this event as his powerful mind was opened for a brief moment to all vampire-kind, letting them know that change was imminent.
Most were too young to know what this meant or who had been awakened... Those that were old enough to know either rejoiced or despaired, but it was clear that this monster wasn't hiding himself.

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Oban was the stage where this Awakening Ball was set. An entire ballroom rented out, filled and catered to capacity with every comfort known to Arethil on full display for all to indulge.
Plenty of drink for all, the mortal guests and caterers were either Enthralled, compelled and hypnotized. Forced to enjoy themselves and allow the inhuman creatures to feed on them even unto death.
Vampires from all walks of life have come to see this awakened immortal in hopes of learning where he might stand once he's caught up with the current times.

But while the party was in full swing in the ballroom, the awakened immortal was ensconced in a private room...
Gideon lounged on a couch, most of his youth and life having returned to him after only a few feedings, but he was still a ways off of reaching his full strength.
He was not alone in this room, over twenty female thralls attended him hand and foot, elves and humans offering him parts of themselves for him to feed on while he indulged in their sweat life nectar. When one dropped the body would be removed and another fresh thrall would enter.
He sank his fangs into their wrists, throats, arms, thighs, shoulders, wherever there was flesh he drank blood from it.

He was an imposing creature, blood stained his lips and trickled from the corners of his mouth, his eyes glowed red with a core of burning gold fire in the middle surrounded by a sclera of darkest night.
His flawless porcelain skin flecked with blood, dressed only in a pair of trousers and a robe opened at the chest revealing his marbled appearance.
He looked like a king of vampires for all intents and purposes.

 

[Aletheiar Alazar]

What was life without the coppery, tantalizing scent of blood? The same blood that gave life, that took life, that swung life between delight and terror? The same blood that ran through the veins of the innocent child and foul murderer? The same blood that tasted so beautiful?

Alazar breathed in the scent of this crimson fluid that flowed so bountiful within this place. His eyes slid closed, narrowed to slits as he tasted it in the air. How sweet, thick, magical. His silver eyes opened, the gold flecks in them swirling as he took in the thrumming crowd before him. So many people, so many men and women, all in their finest attire. All of them prey dressed in silks and satin, outlined in gems and precious metals. Fascinating.

He could not resist.

He stepped into the crowd, picked out a young man who walked the floor with the same entranced, dazed looked all the mortals attending had. The man turned to him, and at a single touch from Alazar’s hand, fell limp. The vampire caught him before he touched the ground, and held him as a lover might as he tilted back the man’s youthful head. He saw the throat, the pulse fast yet steady beneath the great vein. Beautiful. Beautiful.

Alazar’s mouth opened, and his tongue slid up and over the throat. His canines extended into keen fangs, and he sank them into the tight, firm flesh of the neck. From microscopic holes at the tip of the fangs, the venom flowed, thinned the blood, and drew it deep into his bloodstream as the same flowed through to his own digestive system.

The taste thrilled Alazar’s senses as he drank, as his body regained strength and vigor and became health once more.

The man was on the edge of death when Alazar stopped, and handed him to a servant who took the man away. Only then did Alazar allow himself a smile, and wonder who it was who called on him and all his nefarious kind.

 

[Gideon Varnay]

In the back private room there was a steady stream of cattle ready to go in and a steady stream coming out.
Gideon was gorging himself on blood as his victims practically climbed over each other to throw themselves on his fangs, the host was indeed very gracious in throwing this entire soiree.

His hunger was endless, and those that left the room did so having been bled dry with blissful smiles on their faces.
Three females pushed forward past the others waiting to be fed upon, he fed on them one by one, taking sips from each. He slid his fangs into their exposed throats and took a mouthful each, the venom from his own fangs drowning out all pain and replacing it with pure euphoria and causing them to crave his bite like an instant addiction... An addiction which he happily enabled.
It took him a full three minutes to drain all three girls to empty vessels.

His mouth stained red he waited for the bodies to be removed while he lounged back on the couch. Another thrall was positioned beside him with a goblet and a knife, her arms and wrists covered in cuts as she repeatedly refilled his cup with her blood. He took the full goblet and drained that while the thralls organized themselves again.

One thing that set him apart from other vampires, besides his age, was his peculiar tastes and his insatiable appetites.
The drained husks or piled ashes of vampires also littered the floor around his couch, drained of either their own tainted blood or the blood of their victims depending on the specific strain or species.
He smiled and opened his arms to welcome a red haired human girl into his embrace, he could smell her blood even through her heavy perfume and makeup and it simply begged to be spilled.
He sank his fangs into her throat as well and drank deeply, it took a great bit of self control to not rip her throat open and let her blood squirt over him, but the host would have enough trouble dealing with the bloodless dead with only small puncture wounds on their throats. Though on the flip side it'd be easier to call them animal attacks if things were a bit messier.

Still, for all this feeding he was ready to begin seeing guests, it wasn't any fun to drink alone, even if your drinks happened to be most entertaining on their own.
He dropped the bloodless redhead on the floor and a blond elf and a brunette human were ready to take her place.
They sat on either side of him under his arms while he nodded to the doorman with a mental instruction to let in someone interesting.

 

[Aletheiar Alazar]

Much like wine, the blood that flowed so abundantly varied both in taste and quality, affected by the choices the vessels had made in life. Like any wine connoisseur, Alazar could tell what was in the drink he tasted, and even how it was prepared: dry and simple, yet pleasant – nuts and exotic berries; sweet and complex – aged blood enriched by dark oak and added dark chocolate; a sour red, a sweet white, both made by special diets of meat and fruits maintained for months.

Taking modest sips from those who brushed too close against him, Alazar savored the deep complexity and sweet flavors of those who indulged heartily in meat and rich foods, just as he savored the smooth taste of those who partook of the aforementioned special diets. Diets clearly prepared specifically for this gathering by those who anticipated the awakening of the mysterious host of this event. Alazar found his curiosity growing as he slowly made his way to the doors that he noticed opened regularly, allowing streams of all manner of guests flooding in and out. Many of which, Alazar marked, looked a great deal ill or worse.

Alazar caught the arm of a young woman. She was pale as ice, a clear complexion, a wise air that had not been fully extinguished just then, and the tapering ears of elvenkind. His teeth were deep in her when the door creaked open, allowing a sharply dressed man to slide out. A young vampire, and by the mild aura he produced, not a strong one. He looked around a moment, and met eyes with Alazar. The young vampire smiled, clicked his pointed teeth together once, and gestured for Alazar to enter the room.

About time. Alazar’s teeth receded back to their usual length, almost that of a regular human than the vicious fangs he used to frighten and feed. He cast the woman aside as he proceeded forth. Checking himself mentally as he walked to the doors – one never knew what awaited them beyond secured walls after all – he entered.

Such indulgence as he had never seen awaited him.

In his simple black garb with naught but a few piece of bone jewelry and a bone and steel gauntlet encasing the right arm, Alazar looked exactly the sort who would have been awed and cowed by the personage before him that ancient on the throne surrounded by bodies and ash, with women clinging to his arms as if in mindless desperation. But the way he smiled and rolled his eyes at the carnage proclaimed something other than awe entirely.

“I am impressed,” he still said, in a smooth, cultured voice of a light tenor that belied his appearance. “Surely my Lord has great resources.” To afford such waste.

 

[Gideon Varnay]

Burning red and black eyes met silver and gold. Gideon gave him an appraising look up and down, dark clothing and bone decorations, had he not been dressed in his party clothes (consisting of a now bloodstained white button-up opened at his chest and a belted pair of leather suede pants) he would be dressed in black garb as well, though with steel armaments.

“I am impressed,” he still said, in a smooth, cultured voice of a light tenor that belied his appearance. “Surely my Lord has great resources.” To afford such waste.

He quirked a smirking smile at the vampire.
"Indeed, it seems quite a few of my servants still remembered me after all this time. This Awakening in my honor has so far been quite enjoyable, though I think my friend may have gotten a little overexcited in providing drinks..." He didn't, "I'm not sure I could drink all of this blood myself..." There wasn't enough, "Won't you join me in a drink? These vintages are aged to perfection and prepared with a masterful touch."

With a mental command a dark haired elf broke from the writhing mass of fawning cattle and approached Aletheiar Alazar, she curtsied politely in her party dress and then offered up both her neck and wrist with a look of sadistic anticipation and madness in her eyes.
These thralls were expertly compelled, if any survived the night they would have no memory of where the time went.

Gideon took the hand of the elf on his left arm and raised her wrist to his mouth where he sank his fangs. Blood filled his mouth and in his gluttony he let it spill out over his chin and drip down his chest but he stopped well before she started feeling dizzy.
"Elven blood I find has a special flavor, their longevity gives them a unique taste, a smoother and gentler aroma and a suspenseful sweet and savory effect on your tongue!"
He licked his red stained lips with a red stained tongue.
"Ah, where are my manners. I should introduce myself shouldn't I?"
He stood up from the couch and gave a slight bow, "Lord Gideon Fiera Ayammetu Varnay, and you have my gratitude for attending on this auspicious occasion."

He sat back down and once more took the elf's wrist, licking the beading blood from the two pricks on her wrist.
"Although I admit, the effect of such a delicacy is lessoned by the intermingling of flavors... But the true delicacy is the blood of the immortal elves, those who do not simply live longer and die later, but remain youthful as long as we do and only die of violent means... Have you tasted of such a creature before, sir?"

 

[Aletheiar Alazar]

Insatiable predators such as they were, a vampire’s thirst could never truly be sated. Reduced, perhaps, but no more. Yet even so Alazar regarded the elven morsel with silent disdain and waved away the offer with a single flip of his gauntleted hand. The talons covering his fingers glittered in the low light, shining in the eyes of the two ancient beings.

“Thank you,” he said, not troubling himself to cover the contempt saturating his voice. “But I have tasted such better fare tonight that anything less is bitter.” He regarded the other vampire and smiled a cold, joyless smile that failed to reach his eyes. The shambolic gluttony with which this awakened elder fed repulsed Alazar. Used to far more refined and elegant meals, the sight nearly soured his palate.

The glutton finally granted his name. Alazar smirked at the title, but graced the elder with a waist-deep bow and a bent knee. “My Lord Gideon Fiera Ayammetu Varnay, it is my pleasure to attend your celebration. It gladdens my heart…” Dead as it is. “… to see another of my kind awakened from their torpor.”

His silver eyes shone, the gold flecks swirling wildly within their depths as he took in the rest of the prey strewn about the floor. Hands reached out to the gluttonous Lord Gideon, dazed eyes enraptured and mesmerized voices pleading for him to feast upon their blood. The act may well cost them their lowly lives, but tonight, to serve him was their sole desire. There were races of all kinds here, humans and elves, dwarves and halflings, even beastkin with fox tails or feline ears.

His gazer returned to the self-styled lord. “I have feasted on a great many beings, my Lord Varnay. And in response, to you I ask, have you ever tasted the sweet blood of a thing that has never aged, never died, and wields power the sort of which is unfathomable to all but its own kind? My Lord,” he smiled genuinely then, “there is so much more than these immortal elves you admire so much.”

He paused, then said, “Please, it is unnecessary to call me ‘sir’. I am Aletheiar Alazar, and I do prefer to hunt my food than find them lounging about my feet.”

 

[Gideon Varnay]

Ahh... Innuendo, hidden meanings, masked body language, he truly missed it.
This creature before him was undeniably old, perhaps even close to his age, otherwise he would be able to read much more than imperceptible whispers from his mind... Rather than reading full surface thoughts he could only detect the tone of his inner dialogue, Gideon could tell that his displeasure was masterfully concealed.

“Thank you,” he said, not troubling himself to cover the contempt saturating his voice. “But I have tasted such better fare tonight that anything less is bitter.” He regarded the other vampire and smiled a cold, joyless smile that failed to reach his eyes. The shambolic gluttony with which this awakened elder fed repulsed Alazar. Used to far more refined and elegant meals, the sight nearly soured his palate.

Gideon chuckled and put his hand around the elf's waist, the mirthless smile not lost on him.
"Far be it from me to impose then! Who am I to belittle a vampire and his tastes?"
He brushed the hair away from the elf girl's neck and pricked her ageless skin with a fang, licking up the beads of blood that trickled forth.

His gazer returned to the self-styled lord. “I have feasted on a great many beings, my Lord Varnay. And in response, to you I ask, have you ever tasted the sweet blood of a thing that has never aged, never died, and wields power the sort of which is unfathomable to all but its own kind? My Lord,” he smiled genuinely then, “there is so much more than these immortal elves you admire so much.”

He paused, then said, “Please, it is unnecessary to call me ‘sir’. I am Aletheiar Alazar, and I do prefer to hunt my food than find them lounging about my feet.”

He turned his attention from the elf's throat at the vampire's words.
"Well met, Aletheiar Alazar. But you toy with me, a riddle?"
He sank his fangs deep into the elf's throat and sucked her dry in seconds. He dropped her lifeless corpse to the floor, humming in pleasure as her lifeblood suffused his body. He stood up facing Alazar.
"Pardon me, they tell me I've been asleep for almost a millennia and I'm quite simply parched from all that time without a single drop of blood."
He gave a bloody smile, the mirth actually reaching his eyes as he stepped over the writhing mass of women towards the ancient.
"Either you prize the blood of sorcerer children, or you're offering me a drop of your own... I assure you I'm not averse to either suggestion."

Finally he addressed Alazar's final quip, "And good on you for it. But for me, to hunt the blood needed to restore my strength would take me years away from the dire times that has befallen our kind. I'm told swift action is required."
Almost as an afterthought he quickly switched gears to a different topic, "Oh! I do hope you'll continue to enjoy the party, I've had one of my servants arrange some entertainment soon... Apparently one of the thralls has managed to "escape" and may have alerted a local templar congregation of our little party, I do hope you'll stay to watch the bloodbath."

 

[Aletheiar Alazar]

Sorcerer children? Alazar smirked at the Lord Gideon Varnay’s lack of imagination. It was true that magical blood was quite succulent, bright with rare flavors and granting strength and verve even to the most parched of vampiric throats. Even so, the experience of dining on that particular repast did not compare to the sumptuous feast of which Alazar recalled.

Crossing arms, Alazar observed closer this Lord, and tactfully decided to let pass the ignorance. After all, as the old saying went, you could not teach an old wolf a new song.

That old wolf, however, now sang a tune that caused Alazar’s eyebrows to shift upwards in sudden interest, a stark contrast to the marked boredom that had begun to calm the golden flecks in his eyes. How long had it been since he had seen the beautiful sight of war? The thrilling sight of homicide, the exciting rush at the sight of blood on hands – most especially his? A year, a month, a day?

Too long.

“Lord Varnay,” Alazar smiled, not all that unkindly, “you must pardon me if I think you rather uncouth, expecting me to only watch a bloodbath.”

Alazar turned a shoulder to the ancient in a rather bold display of dismissal. “Ah, but templars, you say? Any number of them can prove to be annoying. Even one can be troublesome under certain circumstances. But it sounds like a full troop. A score or more, perhaps? And what aid would they bring with them?”

His eyes brightened as he tilted his head towards Varnay with a wolfish grin. “Are you sure you can handle such flies, if a simple hunt would weaken you so?” His grin grew wider, looking almost vicious, almost insane.

“You call this a party? Then it’s time to impress me, my Lord.”

 

[Gideon Varnay]

“Lord Varnay,” Alazar smiled, not all that unkindly, “you must pardon me if I think you rather uncouth, expecting me to only watch a bloodbath.”

Hmmm... Perhaps not as old as Gideon originally thought... Things still entertained this elder, things such as slaughtering the lambs still brought a gleam to his gold flecked eyes... Gideon had once been so excited by the concept of ripping people to shreds and he did so for centuries upon centuries... But over time it simply wasn't the same as the very first time he crushed bones to dust in his bare hands, over time boredom took over even that animalistic pleasure. Boredom hasn't stolen nearly enough from this vampire for him to revert to simple pleasures.
But Gideon was still intrigued by the riddle of this mystery blood that Alazar teased him with.

Still, Alazar was testing him, prodding at his patience deliberately or not. But the immortal had plenty of patience to spare so he simply humored the vampire with a light chuckle, throwing his hands up dramatically.
"A slip of the tongue, my friend! I know better than to impose any expectations on you! I plan to watch and feed, for the Templar cannot prepare enough for the party they're attending."

“Are you sure you can handle such flies, if a simple hunt would weaken you so?”

He scoffed, "Now where would you get an idea like that? 'weakened' from a hunt? Putting words in my mouth now, Alazar?
By now I've fed enough for a hundred hunts and I'm still not full, and as I said time is too short to hunt."

“You call this a party? Then it’s time to impress me, my Lord.”

Gideon had the patience of an immortal, but such cheek was the true test against an endless boredom that kept one from getting too emotionally involved in any word or action. Especially from one supposedly his peer.
But he wasn't there yet, instead he grinned with a genuine question.
"You're testing me... Tell me, in what way does earning my anger benefit you? If you don't appreciate my hospitality you are more than free to leave."
With great practice he was able to keep the irritated edge from his voice and he spoke as if they were discussing the weather.

 

[Aletheiar Alazar]

Clearly, this old wolf had grown complacent. Alazar regarded Varnay with carefully concealed contempt. What sort of vampire could only watch bloodshed without directly benefiting from the action? Only the weak, only the ones who fed on dumb animals and nothing else. Only the vegans who barely sustained themselves on dead and putrid flesh harassed by flies. Surely Varnay was not one of those weaklings, but then what was he?

What were his plans for these Templars? Alazar cocked his head to one side and chuckled lightly as his unnerving smile faded to a friendlier tone. “Forgive me, my Lord. I did not mean to provoke you.” One eyebrow lifted. “Leave your party? I wouldn’t dream of leaving so soon. After all, I was drawn here as the others of our kind were.”

Alazar stepped away from Varnay, sliding around the ancient as he wandered aimlessly around the chamber. Threading his way through the writhing bodies, he looked about, searching for the sweet scent his senses had latched upon. As his gleaming eyes scanned the room filled with flesh and bone and blood, he spoke to Varnay in businesslike manner.

“You know it too, do you not, my Lord? Dire times, as you said. Our kind, powerful or not, are waning. More and more hunt our kind and extinguish even the oldest among us. Swift action indeed is needed if we are to continue to survive in any substantial number.”

He found her, a young girl lost in the throng of people surrounding the throne. Her hazel eyes turned to him as he touched her arm; she reached out, inviting him closer. Alazar obliged, lifting her by the shoulders. His chest met her back as he turned her about, tilting her head back to expose her throat. She was the pretty daughter of a Templar, gifted with his magic if not skilled enough to use it herself. Alazar ran one of his bone claws down the side of her neck, drawing a red river through her supple skin. He breathed in the aroma of her blood, drawing it deep into his lungs and sighed with contentment, even as she moaned in ecstasy. His tongue flicked out, sliding over the crimson line, tasting her life. He did not drink from her directly – no, such vintages had to be slowly savored.

“Can I assume you, Lord Varnay, are the one to save our kind?”

 

[Gideon Varnay]

“Forgive me, my Lord. I did not mean to provoke you.” One eyebrow lifted. “Leave your party? I wouldn’t dream of leaving so soon. After all, I was drawn here as the others of our kind were.”

Varnay kept up his smile, "You haven't provoked me yet, I'm merely curious. You also haven't answered my question."

“You know it too, do you not, my Lord? Dire times, as you said. Our kind, powerful or not, are waning. More and more hunt our kind and extinguish even the oldest among us. Swift action indeed is needed if we are to continue to survive in any substantial number.”

Varnay shrugged with his mouth, conceding the point as he watched the elder wander about the room and select a tasty looking girl.
"So I'm told. A threat from a certain Duchy dedicated to destroying vampires, or rather, a certain sect of vampires formerly led by a self-proclaimed 'Vampire King' who's decided to make himself a nuisance and bring this down on all of us. I'm told he was slain and now they are leaderless."
He watched as Alazar teased the girl, her blood did indeed smell tantalizing and quite delectable. Was this the riddle blood he spoke of?

“Can I assume you, Lord Varnay, are the one to save our kind?”

Varnay chuckled as the writhing mass started moving again, needy prey pawing at him, clinging and climbing around his legs.
"I can assume that if you are asking me this then you must believe you don't need a savior. Let me ease your mind, I am not a savior. But I will do as I please, and if saving our race pleases me then that is what I'll do."
He reached out a hand and a woman rose up from the crowd to cradle her neck in his grasp, he then lifted her to her feet and turned her head to the side where he sank his fangs into her exposed throat, eliciting an ecstatic moan from her lips.
Savoring blood was far from his mind at this moment. He drank deeply to sate the centuries long hunger that had settled in and weakened him in his slumber.

 

[Aletheiar Alazar]

Just as Varnay declared to do only as he wished, so did Alazar follow a like creed… which was to answer no questions, paying little mind to Varnay’s rambling words. But even as he said nothing, his silver eyes flickered to Varnay and remained steadfast on the ancient as the awakened Lord picked another dainty from his flock. A moment of silence passed. Then,

“You mistake me, my Lord. Everyone needs a savior of some kind.” With those ambiguous words, Alazar turned to the matter at hand.

They were still far away, limited in their mortal speed. But they surely knew of the small stronghold where this macabre celebration took place, and would come here first. Their path, while slow, would be straight and sure. They were coming, in force and number, with fire and silver and magical weapons ready. Not to mention spells and protective wards. Templars tended to be a rather restive lot.

Alazar turned his chosen girl to face him. Her pretty eyes gazed lovingly into his as he murmured words in an ancient language, as indiscernible as they were esoteric. Those eyes fluttered closed as he sealed their lips in a deep kiss.

The shadows around them gathered in a single great shape, sucked in to the center. They mounted, growing from the floor into a sinuous limb that coiled around the girl, wrapping around first her legs, then her torso, and lastly her arms and chest. Small tendrils reached up around her neck to her chin, looking like pulsing veins gorged with black blood.

Alazar released her, stepping back as the girl was suddenly flung to the wall with a single gesture. The shadows, convulsing, glued her there like some abominable crucifix. Magic, dark and powerful, radiated from the heart of the display, soaking through the air and emanating well beyond the walls of the ballroom.

Through it all she never made a sound, but her lips, held formerly in a smile, twisted in agony.

“That should hurry our templars,” Alazar said, satisfied. He turned to Varnay. “I will gladly answer the question I see in your eyes, my Lord, but first… we must take care of these vampire hunters.”

 

[Gideon Varnay]

He withdrew his fangs when the girl went limp, another one dead from his ravenous hunger. He dropped her carelessly on the floor.

“You mistake me, my Lord. Everyone needs a savior of some kind.”

This took him aback slightly, "Really? Does this mortal threat against our kind actually concern you?"

He watched the display as he tormented the Templar girl, an interesting trick though it's function was unknown to him. There was still much he had to get caught up on, advances in magic and technology that had progressed while he was asleep.

“That should hurry our templars,” Alazar said, satisfied. He turned to Varnay. “I will gladly answer the question I see in your eyes, my Lord, but first… we must take care of these vampire hunters.”

He laughed aloud and picked up another girl to feed on, a blond prostitute that moaned like the whore she was at his touch.
"Ahhh so impatient my friend! How have you endured the ages being in such a hurry? I admit I'm in a small hurry myself to regain my strength, but the only thing you seem to savor is blood instead of every moment of your immortality... Is this your boredom manifesting itself?"
He brought her wrist to his mouth and drank from her veins while she groaned and gyrated against him.
He took a few deep gulps from her before pulling out his fangs.
"Ah, no matter. Entertainment is the same whether it comes sooner or later."
He returned to his feast and drank another one dry.