Leo had tasted power before. One might say, in a kindly way, that his bloodline was predisposed to it. Some lesser creatures might have been consumed by its abrupt unleashing. Others might have cried out and then rose up in a release unprecedented by what manifested in Leo's hands. Time stood still and as Leo let his faith wrap around something that wasn't truly there. But his belief manifested will, which was indeed the way of Gods, and within his grasp the dagger formed even as he was midthrust with her neck the intended target.
Gluttons rarely look up from their unholy feasting to see such things coming, but then again why would they? Leo was disarmed, beaten, and there was barely a need to chain him. Freedom of movement was his in a limited way. Her arrogance cost her, both in Murdocks ability to get free and in Leo's range of motion. Murdoch was harmless as well, alive only really to give her an audience when she destroyed Leo Zaital.
Leo thrust, twisting his arms up and fully intending to drive the incredible lack of anything in his hands deep in her neck. And as his arms arched upwards, twisting, he felt the dagger come into being. It was smoldering hot, molten, etched with flames intertwined like lovers over Sylir's ancient symbol - two clasped hands. It drove smoothly into her flesh, not really even giving her time to recognize the fact that she had been hit. Eyes widened in shock as she ignited into a white hot orange flame that was overwhelmed by the blue traditionally associated with Sylir. She screamed, stepped back, and before the entire residents of the room, her flesh began to melt off her bones. It superheated, boiled, and vanished revealing jet black bones which crumpled to the ground in a singular pile of gleaming ebony.
The feeling for Leo was incredible. He handled power, true power, and it burned through him not exhausting him but instead leaving him feeling invigorated and almost drunk with the pleasure of it. An Alvina would have been able to grab onto the power, preserve it, utilize it. In a way, it was a pity Glav Navik was not present, for the Black Hand's death would have been another stepping stone towards his rise. In Leo's case, blood diluted by mortality caused the release to flow through him, mostly unobstructed, though outstanding pockets of power remained behind like muddy puddles in the street after the onslaught of a flood.
He felt as if he were something more, just for a time, as if her death and the power the dagger called up from elsewhere transformed him to a new state. It had, in a way, though not being something he could withstand or contain. But it was a taste, a tiny nibble, of what was to come.
This was like a single drop of rain in what would be a deluge if Leo managed to free Ivak and the power containing him was released.
The steam that came off the burning melting flesh rolled black with filth and corruption, as if every tainted thing the Druvin had done, thought, or consumed was released. For the most part, Leo was protected being so close to the actual fire. But the hands that gripped the dagger blackened, tinting a deep dark color like the darkest of Akalaks. There was no pain, but the flesh itself on his palms took on a coloring that seemed to writhe and flow as if the pigmentation itself was alive. The coloring did not extend past where gloves would conceal it predominantly marked the palm and downsides of the fingers. Color crept though, like a living thing, never quite settling in as if he had just freshly dipped his palms in paint and the paint wanted to run off his fingers. It was as if Raven had left her name on him, marked him, for hers had been The Black Hand.
There was no question, however, that she was dead.
Murdoch's feet carried him free, though truthfully both hands were now useless. Maybe his fingers had a bit of use in them, but the arches of agonizing waves coming from his thumbs meant that without immediate attention from a healer, someone marked not toting bandages, there'd be no redemption from it until time or the energy of Rak'keli set him free of it. In a way, it was like trading one set of manacles for another. But, his feet worked fine and carried him onwards, towards his destination.
Across the room, Murdoch and the stranger were not so lucky. In fact, three others chained in the hexagonal shaped room fared even worse. The inky black corruption rolled off the burning Druvin and filled the room, hitting the unsuspecting and unprotected like a rebirth into darkness. One stranger, a man hanging so still from manicles that he was first thought to be dead arched his back and screamed. Flesh darkened, twisted, and his eyes bulged, darkened, and began to gleam with hunger. He lurched forward on his chains, defiant, as the transformation continued. His whole body started to reform into something else, something heinous as muscles ripped and flesh reformed strong and sturdy over the man's skeleton.
But it didn't stop there... it kept going, kept corrupting as if there was nothing in the man's blood to check it. And anyone watching could have seen the breaking point, the place where it was too much too fast. The man died, but not quickly and not easily. One a half wall next to him was far luckier. The one a half wall further was not. He wound up on his hands and knees no longer human and no longer recognizable. One could tall it a wardog stripped naked with leathery flesh, but they would not be so accurate. Scales graced the creature, but not like the delicate shimmery beauty gracing snakes. These were the big bulky armor plating of armadillos, impossibly heavy and impossibly awkward. The creature remained down though, panting, surviving the transformation but not coming out on the other side the same way he went into it.
Sometimes death was better.
Murdoch should have been hit full force by the death of the Druvin. Instead, the man he'd crossed the room to join grabbed him, wrapped him in his chained arms, and turned his back on the explosion of fiery power. Murdoch could feel something in the man, something lash out and all but shield them both from the force of the powerwash. He felt the impossibly frail body shudder under the blow of corruption. The length of time the man held Murdoch felt impossibly long and he could tell the man weakened. He gasped, shuddered, and then screamed right in Murdoch's face. The sound was agony personified as black wings sprouted bat-like and hideous from his back as his own defenses crumbled. Skin darkened, tainted, and the man screamed again and thrust Murdoch from him. He went to his knees shuddering even as Murdoch felt the full force of the power in its last instances of containment within the room.
Pain poured through him and he felt he himself altering. Though he could not see it, his blood ran black, tinting his bones the same shade Raven's had been beneath the envelope of his flesh. Fingernails darkened and turned black along with his teeth. There would have been more, far more, but the man took the brunt of the power, saving him from its effects.
Servants scattered, terrified, most looking at Leo as if he'd grown Rhysol as a second head, but equally avoiding the still living creature that was now more dog than beast and the man on his hands and knees with the enormous wingspan.
Eyes so incredibly like Leo's met Murdoch's. He started to say something, then shook his head, something odd hanging within his hair more than evident now. "Don't... I can't face him like this. Not now. Not after so much failure. I'll find him, soon, when I know how to deal with this..." And with that he took a lock of his long hair that hung with beads and systematically crushed four of them at once. Light flared, mingled with power, and the man was gone leaving Murdoch staring at an empty space.
If Murdoch rose, he'd notice one thing immediately. He was stronger. His thumbs did not hurt. Nothing hurt really, which was an odd feeling for someone who'd spent his life bar crawling and brawling. He felt surprisingly good, in a way that almost whispered of deception.
Leo, on the other hand, didn't. He looked weak, as if power washing through him wasn't something his body was designed to do. There was no one left alive and human in the room besides Leo and Murdoch. The only other living creature was the armor plated dog-sized monster that had once been human and a pile of black druvin bones.
Everyone else was gone or dead, everyone but the soft voice Leo had heard once before. "By God you have a set of balls on you. I didn't think you'd do it." The voice said, echoing softly in Leo's ears. He could feel the warmth of breath on his skin and the echo of laughter in the form it resonated from.
A mask was brushed back, a sleek one, and a dark haired woman grinned impishly. "I came for the blade. I could smell it on you a mile away and have been feeling it out in the world the moment it put in a reappearance. I had always wondered if a mortal could wield the thing, but now it seems its possible. He was, however, utterly careless in not telling you not to stick it in the first Druvin you found. Nasty things, those whores." The woman said, and looked around frowning after giving herself a little shake. She was dressed like a thief in a tight cat suit of silk.
"Unfortunately, he gave it to his kid. I can't believe it. I can't steal from his kid. Well, I could, but hes been known to be a bit testy about people messing with his family in the past." The woman sighed. "It was bad enough I couldn't get my hands on The Kalivant and some undead sack of white piss is walking around with it. Now you've got that one and he'd kill me if I parted its way from yours." The woman swore a full minute before glancing around and noting the creature chained on the far wall. "Interesting? That came of a Druvin eating Ivlir's power?" The woman snickered, glanced around and seemed to notice Murdock. "You stink of Tyveth. Too bad too, you were always so much fun Murdock." At that she wrinkled her nose, sauntered over to the growling thing, and looked speculatively at it. "Can I keep it?" She asked, a mixture of curious and disgusted crossing her face."
Glancing back at Leo, the woman grinned again. "Seriously didn't think you were going to do it. No one has any faith any more these days. It works to my advantage all the time, but almost always sucks for anyone else." She added, looking somehow entertained. |
