End Game: Witch Hunt.

[Lucette]

Lucette dreamed of a voice urging her ever forward, through snow-powdered brush and past dark trees. Longingly and wistfully, the Kelvic mind answered, “I come… I come to you…” For someone who knew what she was, the pathways of obedience in her mind were easy to find. Having known nothing else, she was only too willing to let go, and follow without complaint. After all, it was only natural to listen, and it was better to be taken care of… Gradually the Kelvic awoke to the foul taste of decayed rabbit in her mouth. Her tongue worked frantically to rid itself of the taint. But the distaste was suddenly forgotten - a collar wrapped her neck. A collar wrapped her neck… A collar! Lucette knew its caress without lifting her now human hand to touch it. She knew without seeing it, what it was. Lucette blinked, and blinked once more, and the room came into view. She did not know where she lay, or what had happened that she might again be collared. Fear filled her. Her first thought was that she was in trouble – for she had not listened to Zagary’s call... and now for her willfulness, the Cheetah was denied to her! With a pathetic cry, her fingers clung to the collar. Shaking her head, soft curls of brown danced upon her shoulders and she whispered, “But… no harm was done…” Something though felt strange upon her head and tangled within her hair. Instinctually she tried to reach up to wrench it free – but her hand would not follow through with the action. Trying again, her body trembled from head to toe from the exertion. Lucette didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, and her mind yelled FLEE! FLEE! Though her body still did not respond, no matter how her limbs strained. Skittish, her body twisted in annoyance, sleek in places, yet the telltale blossoming of her stomach was apparent in her nakedness. Pregnancy in the human form was difficult to hide. Yowling miserably, her flashing eyes searched for… someone, or something to blame. The Cheetah within felt cornered. Conflicting urges warred inside; to lash out or slink away from the unknown, though Lucette could do neither. Strangely, at the man’s simple hello, the fight washed pure from her muscles and her mind. His voice left her calmer, more complacent than seemed appropriate in this instance. His voice soothed her, and Lucette's breath slowed. It was the voice from the dream… his voice - was the voice of an Owner, for did he not control her actions more than anyone ever had? He had called her… over great distances... and she had heard, she thought. Lucette’s head lifted to him, slowly alert… as if recognizing the voice of a Bondmate. Hadn't she waited for him? Confusion swirled in her mind. But it couldn't last with the device upon her head, and she was relieved to let it go. Pride filled her instead to wear his collar and his crown, and tears filled her eyes to gaze upon his true beauty, “Please,” Lucette begged, looking up to him from her pallet, “Who are you? Why did you wait so long to call me?”

[Cryos Bladebane]

Defenses, thought Cryos as he watched Zagary carefully as he was explaining about the magic that this man wielded. So, he uses Hypnotism and Animations? thought Cryos. I have absolutely no clue what either of those are. And truthfully, he didn't given the fact that he wasn't very knowledgeable in the magics of the world and self. He was a simple blacksmith, and this all seemed to be a bit above him at the moment, but perhaps he'd be able to be of some use when it came to a combat situation, his battle axe held tightly in his strong left arm, the mark of Izurdin flowing down his shoulder, and his arm a brightly hued crimson color. Emerald eyes flashed as Zagary called for them to move out, and he immediately was moving with the group, so as to not lose track of where they were.

The swift jogging was good exercise, but this wasn't anytime to be thinking about that. Cryos had to keep his mind focused on their current objective. Finding this wizard. As they approached the doorway, Cryos was a bit confused, it seemed to be in the mountainside, with a woman disappearing within the doorway. Now I wonder where she was going? he thought, but then looked up towards Zagary for his next set of instructions. Whatever they were, he'd follow them to the T, so as to be able to obey him when needed, and hopefully not get himself killed during this venture. That was the last thing he needed in his life, was to be dead, and it was very likely given the fact he wasn't exactly proficient with weapons, certainly not as much as he was with creating them...

[Caelum]

The vision took his breath, but his body followed suit. Urged by a gentle jostle, the distant but cracking command from a Denvali officer, he hustled with the team through the blanketed woods. Around them the trees were falling silent, candles blown out behind them into an eerie silence only old and mangled forests such as these could boast. Birds huddled beneath their wings, foxes stilled in the underbrush and the growl of their bellies rumbled like thunder in breakable bones. Nature watched the wonder of this collection of dedicates, defenders of a long forgotten outpost trapped now somewhere between revelation and abomination. The flight of a gull fleeing for the waters that were still life source rippled a shadows across the mountains. "Lieutenant," Caelum gasped, winter still stinging his lungs as the cave came into view. The whip of dark hair disappearing into the mountain grimmed a war banner and his vision blurred, overlapping recent memory where the sun had sprung within him unseen. Faces had blurred through his mind, violence breaking out in the presence of a Priest of Rak'keli, a chunk of amber stamped with the sigils of Leth and Syna erupting -- "Lieutenant Zagary," he repeated, sliding through bodies, shouldering up. "That was the acolyte, Nikali's acolyte. Into the cave there. The.. Listen," the what? The stone? What stone? His god haunted memory confounded. He exhaled frustration and looked, first to Sondra, then to others, for aid in translation.

[Sondra]

Her words were instinct as Lysander fell against her, a phrase in Kontinese fonder than she had a right to speak and he had right to hear. Something she would have said to her little cousin, Avari when she stumbled. Mercifully, only Sondra could understand the words. The Ethaefal could only wonder at the tone: quick and familiar. They jogged through the wood and Sondra measured her breaths. Cold, brittle air splintered in her lungs, where she labored to make it warm again. The plumes of her breath were the only distraction from the grim spirit of the party. As a child, she pretended the white gusts were smoke and fire. The idea made her smirk, now. A talent for another life. They skidded across the snowy ground bracing themselves against a defense of stones. Sondra watched with inexplicable envy and anger as the banner of dark hair slipped effortlessly into the fort they aimed to take. Her limited understanding of the situation turned her hands to fist and her features into ledges. "What good are you Lanzara?" she murmured, "How bout a useful memory?" Caelum's voice spiralled from her right, naming the woman with dark hair. "Nikali? Maybe she feel my gods-damned need to get her and the old man out here." But the Ethaefal had not completed his thought. He was stretched in the cadence between words and looking at Sondra to tell his mind. She was a mark short of that talent and could only look concerned as his confusion clouded the space between them. Her hand haltingly whipped the air toward her, trying to provoke the rest out of him. The Konti wasn't trained for artfully coaxing information, she had been accustomed to tearing it loose from its host at will.

[Tabarnac]

"Ah, my dear," said the old man, his voice and every fiber of his being thrumming with power. "I am the Master, and you are my kitten. My girl. I could not call you over such vast distances, but now... but now you will always be mine." His voice slithered through her psyche, creating new pathways that would not soon be erased. But then, why should she want that? That voice hollowed out a place within her to fill her with his love. Even after he died, if he died, it would remain, their little secret. "And this," he said, his veined hand resting lightly on her bare belly. "This is mine too." There was no question in his voice; she needn't affirm what he knew to be true -- what they knew to be true. She found herself nodding, and certainly the ability to offer him such a gift, the fruit of her body, brought a welling up of joy. The Master's reach was long, and Roland and Justus were forever away now. Here was safety, and the faint scents of prey outside. Surely he would let her hunt when she grew hungry. Siwa burst in, long, dark hair twisted with wind, pale cheeks flushed with cold and the running. Her dark eyes went gloriously wide, and then the fear was so very apparent. "Father, you-- Oh. Lucette. Oh no. Oh no, no, no." "Siwa, be silent." Her father's voice snapped with authority, but none of the cloying charm as when he spoke to Lucette. There was no need to tie her up with marionette strings. Her goddess had provided him a handy one herself. "She no longer needs a name. She's mine, and that's all that matters." Siwa nodded, though she looked suddenly green. Ah, the curse of Denval upon all those marked by deity. "Aren't you?" he asked, leaning down to kiss Lucette's brow with cool, chapped lips. Outside, Zagary was ordering the assault on Suwor's hole. "Cryos, Sondra. Break the door down." He had his Isur arm, she had her warhammer. He could not decide which was the more intimidating, but thought perhaps Sondra because a dwarf with an indestructible arm could do some serious damage, but a beautiful woman with a hammer could charm a man into letting her brain him, or smash his rocks. The female of the species was more deadly than the male. But Caelum alerted him to Siwa's arrival, though too late for him to actually see her. But the door would not be locked now, nor barred. She had breached the defenses for them. "Follow my lead, then," he said. "We want to disable him, if possible. But if that proves untenable, he dies. Same goes for Siwa." That said, he led the charge, some left behind to guard against flanking actions by Zith or one of Suwor's ghastly creations. The door was indeed unlocked, and he flung it open, charging in, the others spilling around him too, hugging the walls, the better to surround Suwor. The interior was rustic, cluttered, smelling of pungent herbal concoctions and the faint, but very distinct possibility that some sort of chamberpot needed emptying somewhere. There was nothing incriminating yet, but a door opposite their entrance stood open too, leading into the rock of the foothill. They filed quickly through that too, and then there was Suwor, Siwa, and... "Lucette!"

[Lucette]

With adoration, Lucette listened to the old Suwor speak. It was easy to open herself to his words, they were powerful in ways she could not name, for they touched the deepest places of her mind. With each word he spoke, the Kelvic felt safer, more cherished and so in turn, she became more his. With each thought he placed in her mind, Lucette forgot a piece of what she had been. How was she, a simple slave to know it was not right for the man to replace her loyalties? Laying a smooth hand on top of Suwor’s wrinkled one she entwined her fingers in his. Both rested upon her swelling belly, and Lucette smiled to consider her offspring as his, “There is no one better to have it… than you…” That there were others who would lay claim to the baby never crossed her mind. The girl was too enthralled by Suwor’s magicks; her lashes lowered; “If only I could give you more.” Lucette said huskily, leaning in to feel the weight and warmth of his skin against hers. It was the most pleasing moment in the Kelvic’s short life. But it was interrupted too quickly as the door burst open and a woman rushed in. Lucette startled and hissed angrily at the newcomer. The woman spoke and it seemed her words displeased Suwor, though Lucette did not understand why. She could hear the ire in his voice… and her head swiveled to look at him, full of concern. The man kissed her brow and she settled once more, reassured by the touch of his lips. Again, Lucette regarded the woman with the cunning and satisfied smile of one who knew her own worth… the smile of a new favorite. With lifted chin, Lucette nodded to Siwa, “I am his…” she said proudly, haughty from his attentions. She would be his everything now! Her tongue ran over plump lips as if she were hungry and contemplated a meal. Lounging against him, Lucette’s pale skin looked striking against the weave of the couch; she lay in claim of it now, proud to be at Suwor’s side. As she studied Siwa further, her gaze was not the same as when she gazed upon her new Master, subservience had been replaced with a predatory protectiveness. The woman had riled Suwor… Lucette did not like her. One shapely foot twitched in annoyance over the edge of the couch. A man entered the room, and Lucette’s head cocked to see him, as if trying to remember a distant memory… a memory of great import. Slowly she shook her head back and forth, to clear it… The confusion refused to dislodge, but Lucette remembered this man and his companions… and their mission. He wished to capture the new Master, her true Master! She barred her teeth in warning, the crown upon her head glinting in the little light. “Zagary…” she purred, “Zagary…” seductive yet cautionary. A finger circled the cold collar around her neck. “You can not take him…he is too powerful for the likes of you!” Lucette had never spoken so forcefully to the Captain, the edge to her voice at once dark and silky. And she pushed herself to sitting, with her legs beneath her, ready… but for the collar about her neck. Threat lay in her words and in her posture. The compliant Kelvic was gone…

[Talen Stirling]

Talen sent the Vantha boy a spiteful, angry glance overhearing his comment. Who was that boy to speak so rudely? Perhaps they were somewhat close in age and mentality, but he saw no comparison between someone like that and himself. A whimpering boy who still thought himself better than she. Suddenly, an arm grabbed his shoulder and pulled him backwards. In a flash Talen's hand strayed to his sword-hilt at the nervous sound of Zagary's command. Two more Zith. Where were they headed...? His eyes widened, and he followed them with a desperate glance as he saw them fly past and towards the city. Why would they go there...? He stared after them blindly, worrying. "Move-out!" He was given direction, and moved immediately. He scanned the path ahead, only to be shocked by the sight of the Cheetah sprinting after something disappearing into the woods. A curse sounded next to him, followed by the order he started acting upon even as it sounded. He sunk heavily in the snow which each leaping jump, the weight of leather armour and weapons making the run a heavy task. He was thankful he practiced in it as they came to a skidding halt at the treeline, only faint traces of the cheetah claws left of the feline. Zagary cursed, his usual mirth missing. That meant things were as bad as they seemed. He followed the conversation with silent concentration, taking a moment to look at the Ethaefal they were supposed to protect. "Sunsinger". God-send. Looking like he was somewhere else, staring into the void. What could he do to save them? Listening to Zagary's report, he prayed he would have to deal with Zith and animations, rather than hypnotized friends. Talen started into movement, falling back two steps to run behind the civilians, urging them on with his constant presence behind anyone faltering. His arms and legs ached, and his lungs started burning with the cold air. Suddenly they burst into a meadow, trees dispersing in favour of rocks and cliffs. A door? The Sunsinger spoke, and Talen looked at him with momentary disbelief. "Siwa..?" He murmurred. What could she possibly be doing here? He swept past the others and up just behind Zagary as they entered the building, stepping left immediately upon entry of both doors with his shield raised and his blade partially free of it's scabbard. "Lucette!" Zagary cried in a tone that Talen had rarely heard, and he eyed the three before them with confused anger. His eyes danced to the Sunsinger, their supposed saviour. Would he show his worth now? OOCI am sorry about my sudden disappearance. I had a new home and schedule to get used to, but I want to start writing again.

[Caelum]

There had been another cat in another time, years behind him but the ghost still trailed him, dogging his footsteps, waiting to pounce. Cora too had been a kelvic and as they stormed the wizard's lair, Caelum could hear the tinkle of a tiny, tin bell strung from the collar of a dead woman. Memory laid its hands upon him, pressing against his throat, trying to cut off the air supply to his heart. Talen Stirling's gaze was a tether. It threatened to cow him, to raise up his hands, helpless and unsure. He had never known why Syna had summoned him here, what reason She had in giving Denval his name. Failure tightened his muscles, but Talen's gaze remained a tether, one of hope and need. It jerked him back to the present while the Denvali spread in patterns of offense only to freeze in all but their thundering hearts. Their pulses could be felt in the pit of stomach, a sting and a rustle that snaked Nikali's chain low about his hip, hidden by his clothing. For the first time since he had disembarked in Denval and the goddess Herself had knelt before him he felt Her demand in full. The divine fog was dissipated and a moment later the rest of him caught up. "They don't have the Stone, Lieutenant," he spoke with words like bloody dawn, low and spreading. They were impossible to ignore. "The magic was in the Stone. Lanzara put it there and Siwa took the Stone to it's mother." There were more words, but time constraints and the circumstance of Ranuri gulped them down. Conflicting needs rose with grasping whispers through the floor of his soul, phantasmal and ill established due to his lack of physical connection with any of them. The words Justus spoke overlapped those of Nikali in recollection, fusing into a dissonance that was kinder than the hungry symphony. As the din died within him, all this in the space between a pair of heart beats, he found himself looking at Lucette. The bedrock of Denval -- that which he was in contact with, his feet braced against the earth and Nikali's binding holding him fast -- screamed above the rest. Later, he would speak of tiny tin bells, of that worst sin Sondra herself had seen in him. Now he disconnected his soul from his flesh. It began at the right shoulder, an inward focus popping astral body loose from joints of tissue and bone. Thee were others moving, talking, things he could not afford to give heed while prying bit by bit himself out of him. Already, it hurt. As slow as he went, he was still moving too fast. He had so little practiced the power Alander Jin had left for him due to all the corpses of memory he was forced to crawl across to utilize it. At last his astral arm was free, his physical one hanging limp at his side. The astral arm flung, lunging across the pair of yards to where Lucette bared her teeth. The tips of fingers caught the edge of her slave crown, the bone from which it was wrought searing his senses. It was animal bone, no. Kelvic bone. Grasped at, it rose and was flung with what small force he was capable of to clatter and skid across the ground. The bedrock of Denval made a murmur in him of relief.

[Sondra]

Good and malleable as any soldier, Sondra was ready to beat the door to powder and anything else on the other side. There might have been a twinge of disappointment upon finding it unlocked and without bar. Her moment of usefulness quickly dissipating. Within her densely scaled heart, she was still a Konti longing for use. Small doses of purpose mollified the overarching ache. They poured into the tiny room, it felt muggy and musky with cloistered living. And gods what was that petching odor. Lady-Lis, it smelled like the third morning of a bender. In quick rows they pressed through to the other door, pulling the sharp scents of winter and stone through the warm room. Familiarity and instinct put Sondra near Caelum and she made a quick guiding motion to keep Lysander within range. She didn't know entirely why, but it satisfied her gut. Disarm or they die. Simple. Her eyes roved the new scene collecting Siwa with her tears and the crazed mage crooked over Lucette. Lacking the authority to issue an order, she whipped her eyes to Zagary, but that keen line of direction was quickly broken. Caelum struggled in her periphery and words of the stone struck her violently. It knocked the Konti into subservience as Lanzara's memory stepped over her body. Her stone. Mother? It had no mother, only a father that raised it in flame and let it sup on his own djed. The old life was pulsing, burning her chest and creeping along her Azenth mark with the only fire she could still feel with pain. She began to sweat and grind her teeth, as if Zaital was between them. "What did you do with the stone!" She demanded it from the mage in a voice that was too enflamed for her white throat.

[Tabarnac]

Siwa looked horrified, of course, but as she struggled to move, she began to realize that she was her father's creature as surely as was Lucette, though her bonds were gossamer thin and invisible. They would have to be to fly under Justus' nose, who only saw in her regular trips outside the town a dutiful girl with a need to see to her troubled father. She stood rooted there under Lucette's haughty glare, not quite believing the sudden transformation from the whimpering slave to this proud, cruel thing, though she knew better than anyone that of which her father was capable. "Kill, hm..." Suwor said in a thoughtful, sing-song voice, "is that young Talen all grown up? Yes, kill him." But even as he said it, his distraction was neutralized by the damnable ethaefal. Suwor did not recognize him, but he hated Caelum with a sudden surety that was all but palpable. The Kelvic-bone crown fell from her head and skittered across the floor to bump into Siwa's foot, but still she could not move. Her crown was an invisible wheel of energy atop her head, her soul opening up to her father after years of careful work. Love was a useful tool. So was the needle suddenly pressed to Lucette's neck, a needle that twined out of a ring on his finger. His arm wrapped around her midsection, and his muscles quivered with a borrowed energy. "STOP!" he commanded, but now he was commanding all of them, a wave of hypnotic power sweeping out across their auras, inspiring a sickening, shuddering fear. Zagary whimpered, but held his ground. Another Denvali soldier flattened her back against the wall, struggling with emotions that weren't her own. "I hold at your neck a needle with a drop of poison at its tip. Move and you will feel that poison. The stone, whorefish, yes, the stone..." Siwa spoke mechanically, "I took it to Cian to--" and her lips snapped shut, her teeth clicking behind them, another marionette on Suwor's strings. And out of Suwor's hands, its fell magic was slowly dissipating, the vague sense of dis-ease melting. In Siwa, the Azenth could sense shame and guilt and love and hatred feeding on themselves, twisting her insides so tight she might die before her father had any other use for her. In Caelum, he felt that chain moving within him. Suwor needed control, but the deeper reasons eluded the ethaefal. The moving chain caught on something, and Caelum felt the gravity of deity though it was absent to all others. In his mind, that familiar voice, "He has no control. Show him." And his eyes fell upon the crown he had knocked from Lucette's brow to Siwa's feet.