Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-25828117-20191009222229/@comment-7262318-20191011034134

The creature struggled against it’s restraints, trying desperately to rip free and kill the man in front of him. The pain that the poor thing was in was almost unbearable. Every inch of it’s skin felt like it was on fire, and its methods of breathing had been entirely cut off. Burning and smothering alive, but it could not die.

“Please…. Stop!” The creature cried out, in a distorted and almost incomprehensible. “It’s… burning!… kill me!”

“Oh, hold on… you’re not even trying!” The Dark Elf folded his arms.

“Please!” It continued to shriek, the restraints rattling as the creature roared and cried out in agony. “Make it stop… Make it stop!”

The Dark Elf put his head in his palms and let out a deep sigh. “Alright… alright. Crybaby…”

He extended his hand forward, and a bolt of lighting shot forward and engulfed the suffering creature. It spasmed uncontrollably and saliva flew out of its mouth. Finally, it’s eyes rolled into the back of its head as smoke began to rise off of its reddened, scarred body, granting the creature the death it so desperately wanted.

“Well… that’s incredibly disappointing,” The Dark Elf stepped forward, analyzing what remained. “… Perhaps too many fire salts? Did say he was burning…. Ah well, trial and error… sorry about your luck my friend,” he gave the corpse a tap on the cheek.

He turned to make his way back towards his research notes, when he saw Haskill standing there. The Breton stood pale in the face and his eyes wide, with a stack of papers clutched firmly to his chest. His eyes went from the Dark Elf, back to the horrible abomination strapped to the concrete slap, and then back to the Dark Elf.

“… Do I even dare to ask, Delusul?” Haskill asked

“Oh, nothing… just working on a little pet project, trying combinations of attronachs. This one was flesh and flame,” Delusul shrugged, removing his gloves. “Flame is a tricky one… always overpowering the other elements or being snuffed out quickly.”

“… Right.”

“Anywho, you wouldn’t bother me unless you had something important to say… spill it.”

“Yes, of course… we have received news regarding your Blacklight associate, Velindil.”

“Oh, wonderful…” Delusul groaned. “Don’t tell me, I want to guess…”

“Of course,” Haskill nodded.

“He’s dead.”

“Yes, sire.”

“Torched alive.”

“Yes, sire.”

“House burnt to the ground.”

“Yes, sire”

“Shrava’s pawprints all over it.”

“Yes, sire.”

“Can you answer with anything besides ‘yes, sire’?”

“No, sire.”

“Gyah… You know in hindsight, I really should have left her in that mine,” Delusul shook his head. This was now the 12th associate that she had murdered in cold blood in the last 8 months. He would not miss them, however, as he more than likely would have used them as test subjects and unintentionally killed them once their usefulness had reached its end, but she was killing them off far too fast. These associates were his only way of collecting living bodies for experimentation, and Shrava’s quest of vengeance was severely slowing down his testing. She was becoming quite a nuisance.

“I’m not sure sire… I’d say she has been your most successful experiment.”

“… and what exactly do you mean by that?” Delusul cocked his head.

“Well… most of your subjects end up end up as a pile of corpses that our seducers must clean up… or that I must clean up,” Haskill pointed out. “Meanwhile, Shrava has outperformed even your expectations and poses a credible threat to your existence… I would say that qualifies as successful, yes?”

“I didn’t intend for her to be a ‘credible threat’,” Delusul said matter-of-factly. “In fact, she is not a credible threat. Sure, she can hunt down some overweight henchman to him home and burn him down to the bone… but that does not frighten me in the slightest.”

“Vengeance is a powerful potion, Delusul,” Haskill said. “She is determined to kill you. It would be foolish of you to underestimate her.”

“I don’t underestimate her. I can estimate her perfectly,” Delusul declared. “You’ve read my publication, haven’t you?”

“… Of course,” Haskill rolled his eyes. It seemed like Delusul could not go more than 2 minutes without bringing up his magnum opus. “The Essence of the Mind”, that’s what he called it. Personally, Haskill  never really cared about the mind or the essence of it. Neither did his master, on the grounds that the book contained no pictures.

“Chapter 5. I wrote about extremities shaping the mind. I deduced that when one is exposed to extremities early in the development process, that they will be deeply rooted into the conscious mind and be unable to grow beyond the extreme,” Delusul explained, leaning up on his desk and grinning. He did so enjoy talking about the brilliance of his scholarly work.

“And… this applies to Shrava?”

“Of course! Born a slave, her will stripped away, and her individuality crushed into itty, bitty pieces,” He laughed.

“… Sire, she has killed multiple associates of yours and shows no sign of slowing down.”

“And why do you think that is, Haskill?”

“… Because she hates you?”

“Yes! In fact, it’s all she can grasp. It’s all she can think about,” Delusul leapt off of his desk. “All of her desires, her being, her thoughts and ideas… it all goes through her rage. So, riddle me this, Haskill, what do you call something that decides everything for you? What do you call the thing that controls your every movement and controls every aspect of your mind?”

“… I don’t know, Delusul,” Haskill sighed, wishing he would just get to the point.

“A master, Haskill,” Delusul triumphantly revealed.

“I… Oh, I see… it’s because, she was a slave. I get it.”

“She cannot exist as just herself, you see? She has no freedom.” Delusul went on. “Shrava always needs to have someone or something to answer to. If it is not the boorish mine owner, then it is to me. If notto me, then briefly to that Ordinator. And if not the Ordinator, then it is to her own rage… She cannot exist beyond one defining element of her life, physical or mental. So in a manner of speaking… Once a slave, always a slave.”

He rested his chin in the palm of his hand and smiled. “Do you think I fear a slave, Haskill? Do you think I fear someone broken on the mental front that she cannot help but find something to cling to and serve?”

“… I fail to see how her “slave mentality”… which sounds like nonsense anyways, but I digress…. I fail to see how this will stop her from tearing your doors down and burning you from the inside out.”

“If I am forced to, Haskill… and I don’t plan to, because she poses no threat… but If I must, I will remove whatever fragments of her psyche are still rattling around in that empty head of hers. If she even comes close to my little abode, I will have a litany of ways to break her mind and reduce to her bawling, shattered mess of a cat writhing on the ground in euphoric insanity!”

“… Sure.”

“If I even smell her coming this way, I’ll tear the very fiber being apart, and skip rope with it!”

“… Alright.”

“Perhaps I may even send an assassin out to finish the job early, so that I may devote my time to more serious matters than a slave girl who has grown too big for her britches!”

“… Okay, sure.”

“She will stand, no chance!” Delusul stamped his foot. “I have the power to melt away the strongest of wills, and if you think Shrava’s easily manipulated mind terrifies me, then you are sorely mistaken, Haskill!”

“… I am going to go now…”

Delusul was taking deep breaths now, having worked himself up into a frenzy. He held onto the edge of his table and shook his head. “Right… thank you for news, Haskill…”

“Of course, sire…” Haskill said, heading back out the way he came in.

“… before you go, Haskill.”

The Breton stopped in his tracks. “Yes, sire?”

“… When you find time, bring Sretnuh to my lab.”

“… Sretnuh?” Haskill asked. “Why?”

“I wish to work on him. That is all.”

Haskill gave him a suspicious glare, but he proceeded onward anyways.

Though Delusul thought very little of Shrava, Haskill had a point. Her rage was beginning to burn out of control, and if left uncheck, it could pose a problem for the mad scholar. He would not be able to work efficiently if he had to worry about Shrava. No, Haskill was right. She needed to be dealt with before she even had an inkling of a chance of matching up his power.

Sretnuh would surely take care of that.