Completed (Flashback) Gut Instinct

[Kuvarakh]

They descended the stairs, Kuvarakh's nerves lit with anxiety. he did not know whether he wanted them to be right or wrong. Right, for Trask's sake, he supposed. Wrong, for his own, regardless of the scandal and dismissal that would surely ensue. He felt sure Trask would mentor him in either event.

They found his master deep in the ritual. Kuvarakh went to his coat, hanging on the tree and rifled through his pockets until he found the keys, one in particular the new style key for the new style lock. His master roused slightly and weakly protested, groaning threats and warning them off their course of action.

Trask crouched in front of the old master, holding him by the throat and growling threats of his own. It had been intended for Trask to open the ice cellar and look at the bodies, since his son's was the primary body they sought, but Kuvarakh stepped out of the room, determined now to face his doubts.

He went to the cellar door and inserted the key. It opened easily. He stared at the gap into the darkness and cold and shuddered. He lit an oil lamp, grabbed his notes on descriptions and tell-tale markings and stepped inside.

The icy condition of the bodies made it difficult at first to be sure of anything. Some of the special features involved teeth and all the bodies had their mouths closed. Some described birthmarks, and some of the bodies were stripped, but others not. He was starting to get frustrated and concerned when he noticed something.

One of the bodies still had a stocking on one foot, but there was something odd about it. He checked his notes and found it. One of the missing students was missing the little toe on the right foot. This was one of the students that had been sent from far away to the prestigious institution and had no other family in town. A perfect body for his master! It suddenly occurred to him that this would be the method to narrow it down.

The more he checked, the more certain it became. The more certain it became, the more his rage grew. Every body that still retained clothes only had such attire as to cover some identifying mark. A tattoo here, a birthmark there, a scar, a minor aesthetic defect. And ALL of them students...CHILDREN! Starry-eyed young hopeful men, eager to learn, eager to build a new world. All stricken down by this selfish, clutching old villain. And all sent by parents far away, wishing the best education for their children in these troubled times. Sent to their deaths.

But then, the final straw, a birthmark on a neck. It looked like a 'hickey'. He had teased his daughter about it the one time she had brought her new boyfriend to meet him. He had liked the boy, and so had she. She had liked him very much. She had not yet used the word 'love', but he had sensed it just around the corner.

And now, here he was. the date of his disappearance only three days before he had seen her the last time. And that last time, he had reason to believe, she had already been taken. He shook with loathing and hatred. Had they been on an afternoon date and been jumped. Had the one that took his daughter been a previous partner? Apprentice?

He turned away in fury, to find Trask, white-faced and trembling, standing behind him, staring at one of the frozen young cadavers, and all doubt was shed.

[Kuvarakh]

As Trask lost composure and embraced the frozen cadaver of his son, Kuvarakh fell into a red pit of rage. Everything else ceased to exist but the bodies, the perpetrator and the punishment.

All sound became a low, humming, background drone punctuated by indistinct screams, thick chopping, thumping impacts, gurgling shrieks, and unrecognized pleadings for mercy. There was a montage of gleaming blades, splattering gore and flailing arms, making futile attempts to stem the retaliation. The room where his master had been finishing the ritual was a blur of spinning, hacking dismemberment.

Kuvarakh found himself screaming. Not in horror, not in revulsion, not even in anger. It was a scream of satisfaction. An orgy of pure retribution. The screams of every parent that ever cried in anguish over the bitter suffering of their children echoed a thousandfold in the bellow of unforgiving vengeance. Every stroke of the blade was a celebration, every slammed body part an opus of glory. Choirs sang with every stomp of his boot. His muscles strained in time with a symphony. Trumpets blaring and cymbals crashing with every hammering crush of vindication.

He fell to his knees and gasped in exhaustion as the red mist cleared and the ringing in his ears began to wane. He stood slowly a moment later, his face, a mask of calm as he went to a corner and retrieved a bucket. he started working the severed parts to drain the ichor into the bucket.

Trask came in and stopped in shock. Then he took a deep breath and walked over to Kuvarakh, holding him by the shoulders and telling him that he would see to the cleaning up.

"No, I will do this...I was supposed to let you do it...I don't even really remember it...just images...I want the ichor for alchemy purposes. This bastard will make a positive contribution...if...if" he started to laugh, a broken, semi-hysterical laugh. "...if it KILLS him!" his laugh surged beyond his control and he fell in a wailing heap, his body shaking with sobs of horror at what he'd done.

Trask stayed with him during his purge, not saying anything. He took over the task Kuvarakh had begun and then placed the drained parts in a barrel he'd brought just for that purpose and lugged it, step by step, back upstairs. He told Kuvarakh that, as the dead man had planned to use his son's body, so then, would he use his.

They took the two bodies to Trask's house. The son for burial, the dead master for malediction. Trask worked subtle hypnosis on him to relieve his guilt little by little as they rode and by the time they reported the remaining bodies to the Board of Regents (it being only proper, as they were all University students), Kuvarakh had accepted his actions as an execution well deserved. And also, that knowledge of his capacity for rage, while disturbing, was still important to know.

Kuvarakh's intent to use the master's ichor for alchemy experimentation was stymied however, as the master's home and lab were found burned to the ground. It was assumed that the old Nuit had some sort of glyphed incinerating device to prevent anyone from benefiting from his death. The heat from the fire did serve to partially thaw the bodies and a quick series of burials ensued as the other ten bodies were identified and their families, where possible, were informed.

Kuvarakh spent two years under the tutelage of Trask, and with his help, he learned both the basics of hypnosis and how to live with what he'd done.

OOC - continued Here.

[Arcane]

Rewards and Treasure! Experience Points +1 Singing +1 Wrestling +3 Rhetoric +2 Philosophy +2 Interrogation +2 Embalming +3 Observation +1 Larceny +1 Investigation +1 Subterfuge +1 Persuasion Lores Aldren Trask the Vigilante Strangling to Death with a Scarf Trask's Utilitarian Justification for Homicide Embalming with Malediction Tools Trask's Search for His Son Trask's Suffering: Ten Years of Not Knowing Ecstatic Revenge Miscellaneous n/a Comments Eloquent writing as always; I have always enjoyed reading your solos and this is no different. Excellent characterization made it believable and enjoyable. Now I suppose I should stop praising you or your ego will swell Good job!