Gift of Ruination (Maddoch)

by **Verena Lorak** on March 5th, 2016, 7:11 am

When the slave barely reacted, Verena’s hope shriveled. He was not going to let her go. It felt foolish now, leaving the party to come down here. She herself had made sure that there was very little chance of anyone to know where she went. But it did not cross her mind, not even for a second, that the ethaefal would hurt her. Foolish. Stupid. And now, no one would know where to find her. Not that they would look very hard. The entirety of her family knew that she was prone to disappearing from social events when things became too much to handle.

She was on her own and she was useless. And as if to prove it, Achenar threw her to the ground, bare and terrified. A part of her thought that what he wanted to take from her was just sex. That it should not matter. Yet, it did not stop her lower lips from trembling or her heart from racing. A shudder traveled down her spine as the slave towered over her. She couldn’t, couldn’t look at him. As if not looking at him would make it not real.

But this is real.

“Stop, Achenar. Just stop.” Fear and desperation coated her every word. For once, her mind knew how to let her emotions slip into the world for all to see. Just when there no one to see. “Don’t do this.”

“Why don't you want me?” he asked her as he trapped her. That question. It was a question she had asked herself over and over again. Why don’t anyone want me? She knew the emotions behind those years. Knew it better than anything. “No, no, I will show you, my lady. I’ll show you what you want... that’s the only way.”

As she fought him, the young woman felt tears streaming down her face and it came as a surprise. The realization slammed into her so hard that all her strength left her. She knew that it was no use. That she was merely delaying the inevitable. It felt sickening, to lose all control. The only thing left in her was two simple words, barely a whisper. “Not this.”

It did not take long before the ethaefal pinned her hands above her head. His lips found her flesh easily and her breath hitched as they found the rise of her chest. When the pain came, a cry escaped her as she struggled. Verena was no stranger to other’s pain, but her sheltered life had protected from experiencing it wholly. She thought she knew pain before, but she was wrong.

Verena did not know the precise moment her mind decided to shut down. Everything simply went dull. She knew precisely that it was her mind’s way of protecting her. It could have been a chime or it could have been a dozen bells, the Lorak could not tell. Not that it mattered. All her life she had insisted that it is always better to be aware of something, to recognize every single little detail. She realized that perhaps not knowing was not so bad after all.

At least, until a familiar sliced through the thick silence that filled her mind. She knew that voice. She knew. “Verena!” Caedmon.

The Lorak did the only thing she still remembered how to do. She screamed.

by **Achenar** on March 18th, 2016, 6:39 am

He knew he was causing her pain. He could feel it; the way her flesh trembled beneath his probing hand, the way she drew her breath, ragged and hitched. But though his subconscious mind struggled with pain, anger and self-hatred, the dangerous influence of liquor and magical influence had taken its toll. The ethaefal's eyes were dilated, unblinking. It was as though he was the marionette, played expertly on the string.

Her continued struggles only proved to fuel the raging wildfire. His teeth nipped along her bare chest until he found her shoulder. He left marks in his wake, marks that would incite pain; drawing blood. His fingers squeezed her wrists enough to bruise. He was the predator now. He was no longer the victim. Verena was the threshold that would propel him past the mere station as a peon in the games of the masters.

And when she screamed, he could feel his blood boil.

Achenar clamped his hand over Verena's mouth, his lips close to her ear. "I have to do this," he whispered, his words laced with an underlying growl. He'd heard the faint call. In another time, he would have withered under the threat of lashes, or even death, for an assault like this upon a dynast meant his life was forfeit. But though he was raging, primal thoughts were shrouded in chaos, he didn't falter. His hips surged between Verena's legs, and he took her, as no one had taken her before.

And as he forcibly deflowered her, the ethaefal understood he was taking from her everything that had made her innocent. This world was cruel and heartless. In the eyes of Lhex, every man, woman and child were susceptible to fate's often inequitable machinations. But even as he shoved her body further and further against the dusty floorboards, nearly crushing her under his weight, his face was pressed against her hair, and the glimmer of tears trickled down his cheeks.

I'm sorry. He wanted to scream. I'm so sorry.

But this... this was the only way.

oocI'm soorrrryy. ):

by **Verena Lorak** on March 24th, 2016, 3:26 am

She could not explain how she felt that something had been ripped away from her, stolen. Her heart felt like it was shattering into a million pieces, each little piece shredding her insides. Yet at the same time, Verena felt numb. This thing was happening to her, but also not her. Her scream was quickly cutoff by Achenar’s hand. But Caedmon must have heard her, right? He must. He have to come here. Please. She couldn’t take this much longer. Could not handle the endless spiral of helplessness that threatened to swallow her whole. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. Could not think.

“I have to do this,” Achenar had said, his breath tickling her skin.

Why. Why. Why why why whywhywhy. There was no one to answer her soundless questions. No one to prepare her for what came next.

The blinding pain tore through her and her back arched in response. She knew what the pain meant and let out a sobbing cry, muffled by the ethaefal’s hand. Every movement he made sent another wave of pain through her body. Useless as it was, the Lorak thrashed and pulled at her hands, trying to find some sort of escape. But there was none. None, she thought as her hips slammed roughly into the ground again and again.

Closing her eyes, Verena prayed to her goddess, even when her mind could barely form coherent words. Yet, instead of solace, she found the darkness intensifying her other senses. Hot, feverish skin pressed against her. His growls echoing in her ears. Her own tears drenching her face. It was too much. So instead, she fixed her stare at the small crack on the ceiling above her instead. She started chanting inside her head. It is just sex. It is just sex. It doesn’t matter. The fight was slowly seeping through every pore of her body, leaving her empty. She just wanted it to be over. Over. Over. Nothing else mattered anymore.

The young woman couldn’t hear the thundering steps that soon approached, the sound of her name being called out again and again. Couldn’t truly see the pair of gray eyes that met hers and understand what it meant. Achenar’s crushing weight suddenly disappeared and Verena gasped. The cold air greeted her and she embraced it gratefully, shivering. Was it over? Will he leave her alone now? What if he came back?

That last thought was like a blow to chest, knocking the air out of her.

Meanwhile, Caedmon had not been able contain the fear and worry and anger that had been building up the moment he heard the young woman’s painful scream. When it was cutoff, his heart nearly stopped as he imagined the worst. The Paille had ran, knowing something was awfully wrong and when he did see her, it took him a split of a moment to understand the scene that was unraveling before him. Two figures bare on the ground. Verena’s tear-drenched face looking at him with wide eyes, a hand covering half of her face.

He wasn’t thinking, not truly, when his hands ripped away the slave off the young woman. His mind wasn’t truly working either when his foot landed the first blow or the second. Caedmon had always been known for being cool-minded, but that night the rage took over him.

The young man glanced back, only to see Verena curling into a fetal position, her body whole body shaking and her face hidden behind her hair. Unsure what to do, Caedmon grabbed a blanket atop one of the cots. Something twisted inside his chest when she flinched at his approach. Kneeling down, he placed the ratty piece of fabric next to her. He feared putting it on her would set her off. For now, he could not help her. She needed to snap out of her shock before she would let him close. That is alright. He was not done with the wretched slave anyway.

Walking back towards the slave, Caedmon clenched his fists. He doubted he had ever felt so much fury bubbling in his veins. “Get up, slave. Get up,” the Paille ordered calmly, the violence and rage brewing under his voice. His hand reached for the hilt of his sword, only to find it gone – he had left it outside the estate. It did not matter. He knew how to kill with his bare hands.

by **Achenar** on March 30th, 2016, 7:35 am

Maybe it had been a blessing of the gods, or a curse for the forsaken ethaefal who had succumbed to dark machinations. The slave had heard the voice calling through the doorway and the way the footsteps echoed like a thunderclap. But he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. He kept going, more and more until the door had slammed open and a pair of hands grasped his pallid, sweaty skin and shoved him off of his broken victim. Intoxicated and heavily manipulated, it was easy for Caedmon to land his blows on the slave, and he crumpled with a groan, the air knocked out of him where his stomach had been struck.

From the corner of his eyes, he could see the man kneeling beside Verena and somewhere deep in his gut, the instincts surged like a primal force. He growled, almost like an animal, but he was sluggish, his hands grasping the walls, trying to get back on his feet. But the room spun, the floor tilted and he collapsed on his hands and knees once more, clutching his head, a painful migraine sprouting.

Loud footsteps approached him. Too loud for him to bear. More thunderclaps. Achenar glanced up with silver eyes glowing under the dark shade of his brow. He didn't need to look at him to feel the rage emanating from his very person. But he did, gazing into the eyes that promised justice for what was done to the Lorak.

Conditioning forced the ethaefal to his feet, grasping at the walls for support, and when he did, his eyes looked past the Paille, towards the young woman who lay curled up, her dress shredded and face wet with fresh tears. Something shattered in the slave.

I did that. I did that.

He was the monster. The ethaefal's hands shook, squeezed together into a tight ball. His whole body trembled from an inner hate, a hatred for himself. He hardly noticed Caedmon's stance and the way he reached for a hilt that would have been at his side. If it was up to the gods he would have lay dead. And in a way, Achenar had wished that was the case. He'd rather die knowing that he would never hurt Verena again.

"I..." The words died on his tongue. He didn't know what to say in front of the Paille. His own heart was beating against his chest. "I didn't.... I don't..." I don't know who I am anymore.

The ethaefal didn't have time to formulate a proper response, however, before the fists collided with his face sending him practically sprawling. He spat the blood as he struggled to his knees, only for the blows come landing again and again and again. There was an explosion of pain, but the ethaefal did not fight back. He couldn't. He raised his arms purely out of defensive instinct, but he did not react. In the end, he deserved this.

by **Verena Lorak** on April 7th, 2016, 12:45 am

The world came back to her in a rush of painful colors and noises. For a moment, Verena was merely wakening from a terrible dream. That she had only returned to reality and everything only happened in her own twisted mind. But then, Verena felt a sharp pounding inside her head and the soreness that was impossible to ignore.

It was real. It is still real

Her head still swimming, Verena finally sat up. Movements caught her eyes and she slowly processed the events unfolding merely a few feet from her. She recognized the bluish glow on the back of the figure’s neck, his silhouette. Caedmon, he had found me. He was the one who had thrown Achenar off her.

…Why didn’t he come sooner?

Caedmon did not hesitate as he swung his fists. It did not matter that the slave did not fight back. The Paille was relentless, throwing blow after blow with wild anger. All that crossed his mind was how the young woman behind him had break. Verena had never cried. Not once. Not even when her own father had died, but there she was completely hysterical. The slave even had the gall to growl when Caedmon had approached her – the small detail did not miss the Paille’s notice. He could sense the other man’s intent clearly and it simply fueled his burning anger.

Verena watched numbly as she recalled how unhinged she had been. She was alright. She was fine. She shouldn’t have lost control like that. The last time the Lorak had snapped was years ago. It had taken her a long time to become her composed self, but tonight all her effort had been unraveled by this one man.

Slowly, the Lorak reached for the ratty blanket and wrapped it around herself. The rub of the rough fabric against her raw skin was sharp and stinging. Everything felt more intense in her mind and she could not understand why. A part of her want to curl back into the deep recesses of her head and pretend like nothing ever happened, but that was not possible.

“Caedmon,” Verena croaked, her voice barely above a whisper and muffled by the sound of bones meeting bones. She tried again, louder, “Caedmon!” He did not hear her, too absorbed in his own thoughts. Verena had witnessed how people could be consumed by blind fury before. Jab after jab. He could go on forever.

But he had to stop. There was enough violence for one night.

On her shaky knees, the young woman walked toward the two men, gripping her blanket tightly as if it could protect her. Every small, shuffling step felt difficult, but she kept on. This had to stop – that was all she could think of. Once she was merely an arm’s length from them, Verena kept her eyes carefully trained at the dynast, avoiding looking at Achenar. His perfectly mussed hair was a mess. His forehead glimmered slightly with sweat. The veins on his knuckles straining from the effort.

Why did he want to hurt me?

“CAEDMON!”

Finally, the Paille paused and his whole body seemed to shudder with poorly restrained aggression, his fist poised for another blow. He kept his angry gaze on the defenseless slave. “Rena, are you–”

Against all her instincts, Verena stepped in front of Achenar, shielding him from the Paille. All the alarm in her head sounded, yelling at her that this was foolish. The tension between the two men was disturbingly palpable. The young woman grabbed the Paille’s shirt, forcing him to look at her. “Caedmon, stop. That is enough.” They were all standing too close to each other. The Lorak took a shuddery breath, ignoring the paranoia eating away at her mind. She could not stop seeing how the ethaefal had thrown her to the ground. But there was something else beside the fear too, something that gave her the courage. “Let him go.”

by **Achenar** on April 13th, 2016, 3:32 am

He felt the dynast's fists, over and over, like they were making an indent in his body. His body felt like it was going through spasms of pain and he could even feel a bone crunch where he'd been hit in the ribs. Breathing became more difficult, but still, the slave didn't stand, and he didn't defend himself. If he fought back, he would be implicated but it was the shock of realizing what he did to Verena that made him incapable of reacting at all.

This entire time, he thought that Zaelsen had been the monster, but he was wrong. I'm the monster, his mind echoed, over and over. I'm the monster. I did this. It was me. Me. The slave brought his hands to his head, shaking, trembling desperately as Caedmon continued to beat on him. Blood filled his mouth and trickled from his nose and he felt as though shards were skewering his temple. And then, after what felt like hours to the ethaefal, it stopped.

He heard Verena's voice through his heavy, ragged breathing. The slave didn't lower his arms from his head, nor did he move from his fetal position. He listened to the Paille man and Verena. He was confused. He didn't understand why the Lorak would ever defend filth like him. He had hurt her; broken her so badly that she had shed tears. The ethaefal could never forgive himself for that.

A shadow was cast over his form and finally, Achenar lowered his trembling arms to peer up. He saw Verena standing above him and the Paille, Caedmon, seething where he stood. He wanted to say something, but he didn't know what. He wracked his brain.

"Verena..." He choked out, blood spittle trickling down his chin.

He looked at her, with eyes wide. She couldn't possibly put herself between them. He deserved this. He deserved this punishment. His gut churned in heavy guilt, as though receiving a beating had beaten the dark passenger right out of him, and yet a remnant still remained.

"G-go... just go, please. I'm sorry... I'm so... so sorry," his words were raspy, as he sat up slowly, shaking his head.

by **Verena Lorak** on April 19th, 2016, 4:44 am

For a long while, Caedmon simply stared at the young woman standing in front of him. Her request had caught him off guard. He had seen how her gift from Rak’keli had driven her before, but this was just madness. She could not possibly defend the very man who had just assaulted her. He deserved far worse than some beatings. Dare he say that he deserved death? No, Caedmon knew he wasn’t in anyway fit to judge the situation. He would have handled this with a cooler head had it not involved the girl he had fallen for.

When he heard the depraved slave saying her name, the Paille surged forward only to meet Verena’s glassy gaze and her shaking body. “Caedmon… Please let him go.”

“Why?” Caedmon said through gritted teeth. She knew he would not have stopped had she decided not to intervene. “Why should I let this slave go?”

“For me,” Verena replied hoarsely, her throat still raw from her screams. If it was anyone else, the Lorak would have no idea what to say to save Achenar’s life. But she knew Caedmon, knew precisely what he needed to hear. “You said you will do anything for me. So stop. Stop hurting him for me.”

The Paille finally looked directly at her, the light in his eyes softening somewhat. The tension left his body as he teared his gaze away from the beaten slave. “Rena, you are not thinking straight. What he did to you. He–”

“I know what he did to me,” the Lorak snapped. She knew precisely what he did. Her calmed now began running through possibilities, trying to predict what would happen to them. “They will kill him if they know what happened. I can’t be the reason he’s getting killed, Caedmon. I just can’t.” It was not simply because of duty as a healer that she did not want to see the slave killed. There was something else too, something she had to push out of her mind.

Caedmon started shaking his head, but he took a step back and swiveled so that now he was the one standing between her and the slave. He could not understand that Verena still wanted to spare this wretched being. It made no petching sense.

Achenar must have been hurt. Verena had seen Caedmon fight before and she knew he did not hold back even a little bit tonight. But despite Rak’keli’s gift compelling her to look, to help, the healer kept her eyes firmly trained at the Paille. She couldn’t, couldn’t bring herself to look at this man who had hurt her. All her life, she had devoted her life to healing and medicine. Verena had always done what she was supposed to. But not this time. Not when the fear had sunk its claws too deeply inside her heart. Not when she still could feel the burning pain between her legs.

It was selfish, truly selfish, but she could not do it. Not now.

“Go, Achenar,” the Lorak would say abruptly, feeling the weight of her duty to heal weighing on her shoulder. She could not stand it. The guilt, the disgust, the anger, the fear. It was too much. Just too much. “GO!”

Whether or not the ethaefal made a move, Verena would kept her eyes stubbornly fixed on Caedmon’s chest. Suddenly, her legs weakened, the very last strength she had was drained by her conflicted mind. The Paille caught her with ease. Verena’s first instinct was to push him away, but then she caught a whiff of Caedmon’s scent of storm and sea. Her mind immediately flew to that day he had brought her to the beach for the first time. This was Caedmon. She knew deep in her mind that he would never hurt her. That he would protect her, just like he already did.

“Swear to me, Caedmon. Swear to me by your god’s name that you will never tell anyone.”

“Rena…”

She tightened her grip on his shirt, burying her face even further. “Just do it. Please.”

What she asked of him… to let the guilty man walk with no real consequence. He was ready to argue, ready to make her see sense, but then he looked down at her ruined hai, her torn dress, her shaking limbs. What will the Loraks do if they found that the sister of their Head was raped by a lowly slave? Verena had been barely accepted into the Kenashian high society as she was, but with this… Her family might decide she was too much of a trouble and one day she would just vanish. No, he could not let that happen. “I swear, Rena, I swear by all the gods, I will not tell one soul. For you.”

Knowing that the Paille would keep his word, the tension left the young woman’s body. Verena knew she would have to deal with her ruined dress and return to her own party. But she could not think for now. For now, all she wanted was to sink into her lover and forget everything that had happened.

Just before Achenar stepped out of hearing range, Caedmon’s voice will echo between them. “If ever see you near her again, slave. I swear, I petching swear by Wysar’s and Zulrav’s name I will kill you. You do not even have to worry about a public execution.”

by **Konrad Venger** on September 9th, 2016, 3:51 am

Nice job! Your work has pleased The Sloth! I haven't seen Verena around, nor has she posted in over two months, but she HAS deducted everything from her Ledger nice and square, so she's entitled to her plundah, too.

Verena

XP:
Socialization - 1
Observation - 2
Herbalism - 1
Brawling - 1
Endurance - 1

Lore:
Marriage is a Burden
Socializing is Draining
Brawling: Desperate Blows for Desperate Moments
Dynasty Culture: A Dynast "Spoiled" is Worthless to All

Additional:
+ Minor cuts and bruises about the neck, chest and shoulders that will need to be covered lest they be noticed, but will heal within 10-14 days

Achenar

XP:
Endurance - 1
Observation - 2

Lore:
Zaelsen Radacke: "Everything is a Game. And Everyone Lies."
The Play Room of Zaelsen's Mind-Warping
Verena Lorak: A Kind Soul, A Born Healer
Pleasure Through Pain

Additional:
+ Broken nose, fractured left cheekbone, two black eyes and multiple cuts and bruises around the face and neck. Most of that will be gone within 21-28 days, but the broken nose and fractured cheek will be noticeable (though the latter only if Achenar goes completely clean-shaven)

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Flashback Gift of Ruination (Maddoch)