Flashback In The Deep Darkness

[Razkar]

Fuel...

Whatever fear Razkar's felt at that word and the whispered vow that went with it was swiftly overridden by frustrated indignation. He was already tired of these Dhani shadow games, taunts and mind warfare that he had no truck with and no time for. The male snarled like a rabid dog and took a step forward, uncaring if h was breaking formation, eyes locking on the nearest dark hole of barely-moving scales and deciding to slice them-

The glass orb shattered at his feet, and everything turned green.

"Goddess-!"

Razkar never got to take another step towards his foes. With a chorus of smashing glass and hissing chemical reaction, a green cloud oozed and grew from the ground and enveloped their fang. Instantly order went to Tskanna shit, eight separate souls cursing and choking and coughing and shouting and stumbling, all to the faint, madden laughter of that one commanding voice.

Razkar was sure he would die. He felt his throat tightening and no matter how hard he coughed, the pain and itching would not abate... but when he tried to stop, he felt like he would choke. He went down to his knees, eyes pouring with tears that tasted of iron, not salt. He felt his lids growing heavy, along with his arm, his legs... felt his vision swim and his hearing blur in his ear...

He saw Tinnok reach towards him, and he was aware that he swung his arm up to take her hand. But he never saw their limbs meet, and darkness claimed him.

----------

Some furry part of his mind did not want to wake. It knew no good could come of it, coming back to consciousness in a nest of cold-blooded monsters.

Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on your opinion), Razkar was not fated to slip from life to death in an oblivion. A dark, endless dreamscape slowly eroded around him, like a coma, something... unnatural. Sounds started to worm their way into his mind. Gasping and grunting. The tightening of rope and the grind of flesh on wet rock. The distant scraping of metal on stone...

And behind it all like the laws of the universe, and endless, sinister chanting.

"Razkar? Razkar!"

The urgent whisper bought his eyes jerking open, and he gasped, jerking his body upwards-

Only to find his hands bound behind his back and his leg tied at ankle and knee. They were in a narrow, low-roofed chamber with far less fungi than elsewhere. The shadows here were deep and seemed and heavy as the thick vines that shackled him. His fang was around him, lined against the wall, some struggling, some watching, some...

Gone.

"Wh... Where are the others...?"

Erama's face was turgid with anger and despair, the latter an emotion he had never seen before. Ioxera and Rehkuna were beyind her, conversing in barely-audible words, both still somehow... sane. Razkar as not sure he was. Tinnok was there, too, but now Razkar saw more fear there than with any of them. With a sudden shock of horror, he understood why.

Traitor, he thought, remembering what he'd told himself in the Arena when they had sparred. That's how they'll see her. They'll... Goddess...

"They... took them... I don't know how long ago, but ever since-"

A wail of unbelievable agony ripped through the humid air like a daemon's death knell. It was so turgid and raw Razkar could not tell it it was Myrian or Dhani, male or female. The chanting did not lessen for a moment, nor heighten. It just droned on, from a dozen throats, maybe more, every syllable hissed...

Erama shook and Razkar saw her chest heave. Even a warrior of her strength had limits, and she was reaching them right now. Her eyes grew wider and she looked at him.

"I've... I think they're..."

"Fuel." Razkar said, as if from a long way away, wriggling himself up to a sitting position. "That's what... what we are. Fuel to some fire. Sacrifice."

"Very percccccccceptive, pig."

All eyes turned to the figure that appeared in the low doorway... or filled it, more accurately. Utterly naked and devoid of all hair, the Dhani grinned and showed gleaming fangs, slithering forwards on its serpentine bottom half, hands folding across its waist. Once it was before them, she... yes, Razkar knew it was a she... swept her eyes over them, a deep and abiding cruelty dancing joyfully in them.

"Sssssso long without real morssssssels," she said, almost airily, tapping her chin with one long, pale claw, "Animalsssss are ssssssso little fun. No real mind to ssssssstrip and sssssssear with pain. No knowledge that what happenssssssss is our will. Our Lady Sssssssssiku needs far better ssssssustenance..."

The hand dropped and that same claw pointed towards Rehkuna.

"Sssssssuch as you. Take her."

At once there was chaos, but only on their side. The Myrians squired and cursed and tried to intervene, but Rehkuna was strangely still. A smaller male Dhani moved forwards, equally pale as their mistress, and gripped Rehkuna in muscular arms.

"Mistress-!"

"Calm yourselves," Rehkuna rasped, and Razkar tried to find some fear in her eyes. But there was none. Just a stoic resignation that Razkar just... "There is more yet for you to do."

Razkar had known Rehkuna since before his time with the army. She had been there after his mother was killed, when Razkar's grief had led him to raging nihilism that only his fathers diligence had broke him of. She saw his pain. She understood it. She had offered him her bloody palm, an oath to join the army of Taloba, and when his training was done, it had been her fang he joined. For three years he had fought and bled by her side. And now, to do like this...

Razkar lunged and the Dhani female laughed as he fell forwards onto his face.

"Mistress, please, take me!"

"Silence!"

Razkar ignored Rehkuna, bore aloft by the male Dhani, eyes pleading at the female who was drinking in his despair like wine. "Please!"

"Oh, no, little pig," the female said as Rehkuna was taken, "Your pain will be ssssssso much the sssssweeter after your sssssssssoul marinatesssssss in thissssss agony. Lisssssssten close, little pig... you sssssssshall hear her ssssssoon..."

The Dhani towered over them all and as the male carried Rehkuna out, Razkar saw her eyes snap sharply onto Tinnok. She had been avoiding her the whole time, perhaps tricking the halfbreed into thinking she had gone unnoticed... and now she gaze full at her, and grinned.

"Ssssssson will come for you.... ssssssister," she spat the final word and slithered her way out of the chamber. Razkar bowed his head, eyes scrunched shut, trying to shut out this nightmare-

"May Myri guide your hand..."

His head moved up slowly, as he heard the words, almost-shouted but coming to his ears as a whisper through the sickly-lit shadows. Rehkuna's voice, one last oath that he would hear.

Each word was ground out as if through metal choking his throat... but they came nonetheless.

"... and Dira your blades..."

Behind them all, face like thunder even wreathed in shadows, Ioxera's hands started to flex against her bonds...

OOCOh, Non-Player Characters, how whimsical it is to make you dance...

[Tinnok]

She had woken first. Part of her bitterly wondered if it was because of her blood, some natural immunity to the poison they had concocted. She didn't take long before shoving these fears from her mind: Someone always had to be the first to wake, this time it was simply her. She noticed that they were stipped of every weapon and most of their clothing...why they stopped at under garments she wasn't sure, certinly not because of any respect of decency surely. Her mind was racing as hands strained from behind her back. She had no knife, only nails a bit sharper than most. The way she had to torque her fingers to get at the plants that so tightly bound her, however, was a trial indeed. She nudged Ioxera with bound feet, and tried to make out the other shapes in the darkness. Nearly Half their numbers already gone.

Barely two chimes and she had to rest her wrists, something upon the vines burned the skin when it began to get agitated...another clever trick of their captives. Such practice and expertise sent new shivers through Tinnok's body... nearly half their numbers already gone.

The female, so solid and strong from before seemed nearly beside herself. Truth be told Tinnok was as well, thinking of her brethren torturing...her brethren. It was nearly too much for her to take...and what of her, then? If Myrians saw her as monster, what did the monsters think of her diluted blood? Surely they would relish cutting he up and feeding upon her...or whatever it was that they were doing. She realized her body was frozen then, and forced her fingers to move, nails biting into the thick vine, face scrunched in pain. She hissed long and low when the rough material broke through her skin and she got a true taste of whatever chemical had been rubbed onto the vines got into her blood. She saw Ioxera struggling as well, a similar look of pain written on her features.

Then came the waking of Razkar. Then came the female...so pale and unhealthy looking, so cruel and strong. Tinnoks chest heaved and hurt as the tigress got dragged away. How would she prove herself to a charred corpse? Rekhuna proved Tinnok's title then, her final words resolute, her face like stone. Then those yellow eyes, mirrors of her own looked at the half breed. Snake and snake assessed each other, pierced one another with venomous stares. Tinnok lost, her cheek flushed and the wisp of a smile crawled across the female's features before sliding out of the cavern. Tinnok growled in frustration. SHe wished she had known how long it took for the others. Had the half-breed Isur held his honor during whatever trials the snakes had made him endure? Part of her hoped not...part of her hope so, the larger part of her, something calculating, knew that it truly did not matter. What mattered were the ones alive.

Her nails bit deeper into the vine, trickles of warm blood dripping onto the rocks, and she moaned in pain, stifling it by biting her lip. It would do no good to allow her captives knowledge....and she hoped Rekhuna would give them enough time..from the sounds of it...she was next.

[Razkar]

He squirmed and twisted and all he did was chafe his wrists until they bled. Finally Erama had he brainwave that he should have had, and let herself topple behind him, back to back.

"You do me, I'll do you."

Normally that would have raised a rack from Razkar but terror and necessity were powerful motivators and even more powerful humor-suppressants. He felt groping, strong fingers twist and pick at his vines, and he did the same. The knots were simple... the Dhani clearly didn't keep many prisoners, and they relied more on the strength of the vines than of their knots.

Chimes passed like bells, days, even... and they were not free before the screaming started.

Cinra. Hiteo. Grist. They were lying around the altar. Their eyes were open. Friends and kin would be hard-pressed to recognize them... and with a rasping gurgle, Rehkuna saw that they were not yet dead.

"I think you won't sssssscream, pig," the female Dhani said, looming over her bound form as she was strapped to the ageless stone altar, short, cutting knife in her hand, "But you will ssssssssee. We have had cccccccenturies to perfect thisssssssss sssssport..."

She raised her knife and the chanting reached a crescendo, a half-dozen hands rising into the air. Each of the six Dhani held bloody blades, used and sullied and sated on the blood of the Myrians around their feet, winking crimson in the... daylight... a single, vertical shaft that went straight down from the surface to this chamber hundreds of feet beneath the ground.

Rehkuna started panting, panic rising in her... even as she knew what the symbolism of the shaft was. Hope. The vain, doomed, tempting promise of hope... that would never be redeemed.

"For Lady Sssssssssiku..." The High Priest intoned, grin splitting wider across her face in sadistic ecstacy. "We bring thee blood... and pain... and ssssssacrifice..."

The blade slashed down.

Razkar grunted and kept down another spasm of pain as he felt another fingernail break. That was three, and he'd still only got halfway through the vine. He could see and hear the rest of them doing similar, in their own ways, though Ioxera's face was going paler for some reason and Tinnok was growing more frenzied at her capacity with every passing second.

Another scream, ending in a wet gurgle. He choked on his rage and sorrow and forced it away, digging and slicing with his stubby fingers-

-then saw Tinnok's hand come from around her back.

[Tinnok]

She tried to assess precisely what she felt at that moment. Tinnok was a creature of calculating thought, and when her mind strayed, started fraying, there was an incessant need to put it back together again, to figure it all out.

Yessss, good, we need ssstrong onesss like you to feed our motherssss wisshesss.

She was scared for her own life, but what about the others? She felt a twinge for the tigress…but Chinra? Goddess she could almost smile at the cruel irony of…no wait…that wasn’t right…and Gaest, she remembered vividly the half Isur walking up to her and pinning her against a tree, holding her against the branches of it and smiling. She knew that smile for it was one filled with suffering that mirrored her own…but it was brimming with satisfaction too, knowing she could now be the scape goat instead of he. Well look at where that had gotten him.

No this was wrong…shouldn’t there be pity and sympathy beneath the fear? Remorse for those that had gone before? She searched for it, ploughed beneath the disbelief and nearly dream like trance she was in to find the emotions that belonged…but all she found was emptiness, a condition bred and beaten into her after living a quarter of a century with those that despised the very earth she stood upon. Tinnok raised her head and laughed then, a cold chuckle that rose in her throat and spilled forth in a maddening fervor. It was filled with pain, her wrists were bloody and raw from moving her fingers back and forth, her throat dry and scratchy from the remnants of whatever the gas had been. It was then she felt the vine snap beneath her fingers, and bloody hands slowly emerged from behind her back.

She glanced at her comrades, all three of whom were focused intently on her with a wide array of expressions.

Go fetch the next one.

Tinnok shifted towards the door, ears straining. Part of her, deep down inside that grasped at the bitter core of her being told her to vacate the cave, to leave and never look back. Yellow eyes glanced backwards and found Razkar’s dark and tortured gaze, Ioxera still struggling against her binds, and Erama whose eyes held the expectations of just that. No. A shadow passed over the barely lit hallway and Tinnok leapt backward, falling into the position she had been in before. Ioxera looked frantically at her and Tinnok placed her hands back behind her, making sure the broken vine ends were hidden.

The pale male Dhani had bloodshot eyes, and they looked hungrily around the room, settling on the half breed whose eyes were downcast. It was right of her to be ashamed, he thought to himself, for she had forsaken her true mother to live with the barbarians of the jungle. He bent close, tongue flicking between thin lips.

“You are to be next sssissster. Come quietly and perhapsss we will make it sshort out of pity.”

Tinnok tilted her head up and spat into his face, the snake hissing in rage. He grabbed for the thin cloth covering her chest and ripped it as he pulled the half-Dhani upwards. Two pairs of snake eyes bore into each other, but this time Tinnok refused to back down. His piss yellow eyes glanced away first, and that was when her hand snuck to the strange belt around his waist, sliding out the ceremonial dagger….and throwing it across the rocks toward Erama and Razkar, her other fist punching his throat.

His eyes widened in surprise and alarm, her singular advantage, and Tinnok realized she had less than a tick before he screamed for help. She liked to think she was a creature of finesse that could work a blade like a seamstress would a needle…how little this grace mattered when one was in true danger. She only had one go at this, so both hands came at his throat, the nails of her thumbs stabbing with great force into the soft tissue of the neck, punching down upon the hole in the throat just above the breast bone. She felt the sting of his blood flowing down and over her own bleeding wrists, but as his body struggled, she continued pressing. Even as powerful hands grabbed her own throat with intent to suffocate, her nails kept pressing. She smiled with crazed glee to feel a spurt of warm blood pop out of the hole as his mouth open in pain, only a burble coming out of his throat.

Again her vision blurred, but this much more painful, quicker and immediate. She wondered if this would be the end, and if Razkar would tell great stories to his children of the day the half-Dhani saved him from…well the Dhani. Then she saw two rabid dogs that may have been formerly Myrian warriors, lunge atop the snake. Her saviors.

What issss taking him ssso long?

[Razkar]

Efverything happened fast, but not nearly fast enough. Razkar would know later that it took a mere moment for that dagger to slide across the rock floor of the chamber, but when Tinnok tossed it, that time seemed endless. The straight, black blade seemed to roll slowly across the ground, Razkar's hands still bound, time enough for nations to rise and fall while Tinnok and the Dhani tussled...

Erama's hands snapped free with a rip of tearing vines and she lunged for the dagger. Tinnok's finger vanished into soft, translucent flesh and the Dhani gurgled blood-

-just as Erama hurled herself onto his back, slamming the dagger between his shoulder blades like a climber hammering a piton into a rock face.

Another attempt to scream, but all that came forward was a froth of blood. Surprise was wearing off, though. Distracted and stunned he'd been, but now the Dhani's immense serpentine form was thrashing and twisting around, trying to bear its vast tail to bear against them. The Myrians looked like children hanging off a towering parent, even as Erama grimly held on and ripped a hole deeper-

-Razkar felt the vines snap and vanish, movement returned-

-braced his shaky feet on the ground and felt the cramp sting and scream at him-

Felt nothing but rage. Saw nothing but his Fang Leader taken away to pain beyond words... and a means to sate his anger.

With a feral snarl he threw himself towards, body almost horizontal, spearing himself into the Dhani male's side in a half-leaping, half-running tackle. Against a being so large, though, all he did was stagger the male, and he felt his chest swell as the Dhani filled his lungs for one final, desperate scream-

-until Erama's knife thudded into the side of his throat, and ripped forwards, spraying Tinnok with crimson.

"Why ressssssissssst, pig? Why keep that defianccccccce in your eyesssss? You are food for Ssssssssiku. Nothing more..."

She could not and would not listen. Her eyes fixed on the shaft over her head, bathing her face in light. It was her rock, her beacon... and then, it was blocked and expunged by her tormentor, looming over her. A forked, moist tongue darted out and flickered against her cheek.

"Ssssssssuch ressssssolve..." The High Priestess spoke as if describing a rare vintage and Rehkuna grunted wetly as that questing knife began to search her flesh again... inside her. "A fine offering for our Lady, pig. Fight harder, I asssssssk you. Resssssisssst all you can. Your every moment of will... only ssssssustains our Lady more..."

The Myrian blacked out, waves of darkness smothering her consciousness, and the last thing she heard was so jarringly... prosaic, that it clashed with the overriding evil of what was happening. The Priestess had turned to one side and snapped.

"Where in the hells is that worthless male?!"

"We need to move!"

Ioxera grunted as Razkar cut her bonds free, keeping his gladius in hand. The Dhani obviously didn't get many prisoners: their weapons were just down the hallway, piled up along with spears, daggers, bows... some of them very old.

Razkar had suppressed a shudder. How long had they been here? How many Myrians had vanished out in these wilds, their clan thinking them slain by tigers? But in reality...

"We can't kill this many by ourselves!" Ioxera finally said, gesturing to the slightly-twitching corpse on the floor. "That one took three of you! There's at least half a dozen more! We need to escape, come back in force!"

Razkar and Erama, both at the doorway watching the hall, snapped their heads to him in fury. "They have Rehkuna!"

Ioxera didn't soften or thaw even an iota, and Razkar felt his rage grow inch by inch. But when the Fang Leader spoke again, there was an edge of desperation in her voice, as if talking down a robber with a blade to her throat.

"And would she want her fang to throw themselves into Dira's embrace with her? Or would she want them to raise the call and return with an army to destroy this place?" She pointed outward to the sound of a weakening scream, wrists red-raw and dripping blood. "She had held on more than any mortal could, and you both know it! Why? To buy us time! We can't waste it!"

Razkar knew she was right, and hated her all the more for it. The warrior that he was yearned, craved, howled for vengeance, wishing nothing more than to hurl himself into death just to take one, maybe two of these sadistic monsters with him. But the soldier... the soldier knew better.

Because there is a difference. Soldiers may not be the more glamorous of the two... but they know how to get the job done and stay alive, because once you're dead, you're of use to no-one.

"Then you go. Both of you."

Tinnok and Ioxera turned to him, knowing the words were directed their way. Erama flicked a glance at him as he stood in the stone doorway, ax and gladius in his hands... then nodded, very slightly, as if in accord. He turned to the two surviving members of Ioxera's fang: the leader and the halfbreed.

"Doesn't take four to deliver a message. One is enough. Two doubles your chances. We have unfinished business here. That big bitch is the key here. She's the head. We take the head, the body dies."

Erama and he moved as one, flexing sore muscles and limbering up ligaments after bells in bondage. The tattooed female checked the short sword in her hand and the dagger she still carried, wet and shining with Dhani blood.

"Go."

[Tinnok]

She felt sore, as if she hadn’t slept in days. She tried to calculate how long they had been gone…it couldn’t have been more than a day...maximum, probably 8 bells minimum. Her scimitar was slid over her back, daggers at her side and she had to say she felt more whole, as if a part of her had been missing and it wasn’t the lack of clothes. Erama gave her the ceremonial dagger, fairly useless objects save for that one razor sharp inner curve of the blade: The jet black, though…some sort of glassy material that was certainly eye catching. She hoped that her heart lessened its furious pace a bit as she admired fine craftsmanship. And then she heard those words.

"Then you go. Both of you."

Her head snapped up like dry tinder going into a fire. Split up? Split up? She opened her mouth. Ioxera had her reasoning, but Tinnok didn’t agree with that either. She was hell bent on stopping this problem here and now, not leave, not split up. It was high time these snakes met Dira in the…well flesh was the wrong word. So when the two warriors turned away, she turned to Ioxera. Her fang leader had a similar incredulous look on her face, but it changed to something akin to curiosity as her eyes met Tinnok’s.

“Would you do that for me?”

Tinnok could nearly laugh, but she had the decency to remain stoic. “I believe there’s an old saying…If one needs to ask a quest-“

“Shut up, abomination.”

“That’s better, Mistress.”

Two smiles appeared on two haggard faces, concluding what was to be the most intimate moment Ioxera and her half breed fang mate would ever share. Then it was back to the moment. Tinnok saw two muscled backs, crouched and headed back down the tunnel, she hissed and charged forward, two hands grabbing two shoulders and sinking into their flesh.

“Will you stop thinking like Myrians, and just stop?”

She felt the rage in the muscles, the hate in their gazes.

“You have to be petching kidding me if you think I’m leaving you here to die on a suicide mission. A suicide mission in which we get to kill my kin.” She said ‘my kin’ with a morbid kind of pride, eyes glistening with adrenaline and pain. She heard Ioxera give a helpless sigh, and Tinnok put a hand on her shoulder, and then whispered in her ear. The fang leader’s eyes widened in shock and indignation. Tinnok held up her hands. “I am not saying I am right…I am just saying…prepare for the possibility.”

Ioxera’s brows furrowed in thought, but she nodded. Fang leader gave a nod to her recruit, recruit put her chest to her heart. “Go well, Ioxera.”

“Go well, Snake.”

Ioxera set off through the caves at a fast clip, Tinnok turned around and closed her eyes. Her heart was on an explosively rapid level again, but adrenaline, fear, hate…something centered her in that moment.

She walked up to Razkar and Erama.

“You start thinking like a Dhani here and now, or you die. Lucky for you, I’ve been doing it most my life.” She wished the confidence in her words were reflected even half so in her hammering chest. They were all going to die and she signed up to die with them…

Erama opened her mouth to talk, and Tinnok leaned forward hissed. “Grab a bow and be ready to back us up, Full Blood”

She looked at Razkar and smiled with glee, something crazed and cold in her eyes that he had gotten mere tastes of. “Eagle, I hope you trust me as much as I trust you.”

Without giving him time to linger on any implications of that statement, she put the sharp blade of the ceremonial dagger to his neck and shoved him forward, edge hovering inches from his skin, lips brushing against his ear. “Walk, and look pissed…” she paused, thinking that statement through fully. “Or just walk…”

A slender ashen female with eyes the color of dying weeds was about to slither down the hall when the snakes in the room heard the call. “Don’t worry the pathetic male is coming!”

They froze, the priestess’s tail quivering with curiosity. Tinnok was no actor, and the sight of the bloody mess scattered upon the floor shook her to her very core. And there she was in the middle of them, Razkar against her chest, the Dhani’s knife to his throat, Tinnok pleased and petrified in equal measure. The room was large…cavernous. She looked at the blood soaked carcass of the tigress and her body shook when she saw that her chest moved…

“I have done as you asked priestess.”

“Where is Lissithilisss?”

“Being reborn as the garter snake he truly is.”

“Am I supposed to believe that you single handedly killed him, tainted blood?”

“You are required to do nothing, priestess, least of all…believe.”

The Dhani smiled a wide smile. “It isss too bad you were not born into Sssikusss embrace child, sssshe would have accepted you like one of her own.”

Tinnok’s smile faded. Long had she learned that acceptance was not something she would be given…not by either side. Time to take stock...and hope to Myri that this wasn't all for naught.

[Razkar]

[color=#40BFFF][/color]

Trust did not come easily to Myrians. It was given solely to the Goddess-Queen. Everyone else, from clan members to other Myrians, earned it the hard way. And as for everyone outside the Myrian race, well...

"I hope you know what you're doing," Razkar muttered through clenched teeth as he and Tinnok walked towrds the cavern, blade brushing his throat, "Because I petching don't..."

His weapons were gone, with Erama. The full-blood had stayed back, watching from the shadows with her bow drawn. She shook her head within them was she saw the cavern entrance yawn (no, scream, remember?) closer, leading to...

"Goddess..."

Her eyes stung with tears as she saw what was left of her Fang Leader, blooded and violated, shoved from the altar like a side of meat with nothing but gristle left to offer. After four Myrian bodies to feed on, the altar was now coated with blood and viscera, right down to its foundations. Six Dhani in their half-and-half form, including the paused female, were ringing it, towering and hissing and armed.

The Priestess was at the center of the circle, by the altar, blade bloody but almost indistinguishable from the gore plastered on her from fingertips to shoulders. Her head cocked to one side and as she and Tinnok spoke, he found her eyes slide to him...

Razkar gritted his teeth and bore a glare that was so very, very old. Older than Mayla, by far. He didn't know how old a Dhani could live to, but this one... centuries. Decades and decades of torture and death and pain and sacrifice and rinse and repeat. She slithered closer and Tinnok gripped the blade tighter, as if afraid... but hid it behind her words.

If the Dhani discovered the deception now, they would be dead in moments. They needed more time...

"Fucking abomination," Razkar snarled from behind the blade, trying to twist his head round and hawking a hateful glob onto Tinnok's arm. "Should have fucking know-"

The blow felt like it caved in the back of his head but he knew it would be only a bruise come the morning. It had the desired effect, though, knocking him to his knees, almost in the arms of the Priestess. Tinnok said something, voice spitting and gloating, but Razkar's ears seemed incapable of hearing-

But he felt two strong arms pick him up as if he were a child, carrying him to the altar.

"Ssssssssuch passion. Sssssssuch hatred." The Priestess spoke with almost a glow in her words, as if appraising art. Two of her acolytles stood on either side of Razkar, each hand grasping a shoulder or thigh, holding him tight with their unnatural strength. "We ssssssshould have ssssstarted with you. No... No... You are mucccccch more like a main coursssssse for The Lady..."

The blade danced in front of him, though he could only make it out in sweeps, blinded as he was by the light from the shaft above him. He gritted his teeth again and fought vainly to stop the panic overtaking his soul-

You're going to die here. Slowly. Painfully. And as much as you fight, as much as you struggle and much as you simply can't believe it can happen to you... your life will still end.

Without a weapon.

Without glory.

Without honor.

"Fuck you." He snarled, desperation tinging his voice and growing with every fresh syllable. "Fuck you and fuck you and fuck the rest of you! Do your worst, I won't-"

"Give ussssss the sssssatisfaction?" The Priestess rolled her pale eyes and chuckled. "Oh, that one never getssssssss old. Alwaysssss a fresssssssh challenge. Hmmm... now... where to begin...?"

The blade hovered and pranced, the Dhani relishing every moment that Razkar's eyes followed the weapon-

-until it stopped, and the blade was flipped over in those taloned hands, offered to a stunned Tinnok.

"Perhapsssssss... yesssssss... you would like firssssst slice, sssssssisssssster..."

Even in his terror, Razkar saw the danger here. The test that the Priestess was making the halfbreed undergo, canny as she was. If Tinnok could not do it, the facade would crumble and then he truly was doomed. Erama would react, and accurate as she was with her bow, against seven Dhani?

It would be a short, brave and utterly futile stand. And they would all still die.

We need more time. Time for Ioxera to to get to the surface and rally the Dark Water. Godsdamnit...!

"Do it." He spat, looking Tinnok in the eyes and hoping the Priestess would see mindless bravado and not the desperate plea from one friend to another. "C'mon. Petching do it, you fucking insult to your race!"

[Tinnok]

”Males, never the sharpest dagger in the pile, am I wrong?”

The priestess’s face drew close to Tinnok’s as the half breed shoved Razkar to the ground and she was sure that her acting was already up, their time dispensed, her actions wasted, but the Dhani only chortled and pulled back a little, amusement and surprise hanging in her features.

“Thissss isss true for our kind asss well.”

There were a couple indignant hisses that were silenced with an impatient flick of her tail. Tinnok could barely contain the sigh of relief that drifted from between her lips. She smiled, masking her amusement at Razkar’s acting with a look of torturous glee upon her expression at his spunk. “I can see why you saved this one for near last.”

The priestess only nodded as Razkar was taken from her grasp. A moment of panic seized her then, as they suspended him in the air like a doll, and she saw her own fears mirrored in dark eyes. This was a dangerous game they played, perhaps more so than most. The priestess gestured to the eagle and Tinnok closed her mind, forcing herself to remain calm and plastering a tight smile upon her features that turned into a sly, cat like expression. She only had to imagine him as…any other Myrian she knew. Of course they had asked for him next, the one individual that had seen her actions before her blood. She forced herself to loosen her grip on the knife, to relax as if this was any day of training, and she let a glimmer of her white teeth show in response to Razkar’s words.

“It would be my pleasure.”

She stepped forward slowly. She had to inflict pain, could not show mercy…yet if she was to inflict the first blow…it meant that it was all she would be doing. They needed time…more time. Stalling would get her nowhere, however, only show her for what she really was, a traitor playing one side over the other.

So she stepped forward with the confidence that she simply didn’t feel, eyes filled with hate and dread, and took the tip, hooking it up over Razkar’s upper left pectoral and dragging it down diagonally in one long shallow cut. It was a good first action, it wouldn’t bleed excessively, yet would cause enough pain to seem legitimate, after all, torture required incremental steps, did it not? She had merely taken the first….she nearly crumbled. He was used to pain, and this was nothing…or would have been if not for the fact that they were already exhausted, bodies drained too fast too hard, sore from the restraints and pushed to near breaking paranoia and fear. Her hand twitched and she took a step back, looking to the lead Dhani for approval. She gave a slight inclination of her head and approached Tinnok, hand outstretched for the knife, a bit of Myrian falling off onto the ground. Tinnok did not return the dagger.

“I hope I am not being too forward…but I have waited a long time for this day, Mistress.”

She hoped her eyes said everything else, and she saw cold hard eyes calculating the legitimacy of the half breeds claim. It was like playing cards with Dira herself. After a long moment the priestess gave…nearly a shrug.

“It matterssss not to me who tearsss hisss flesh, perhapsss from hisss comrade it issss, more treacherousss?”

Tinnok smiled, but her resolve was faltering, and with it her expression. She changed it swiftly into a somber look of determination, but she saw the Dhani around them twitching. Not good. She drew another cut along the inside of his elbow, again, shallow, but to add to the effect she leaned in and lapped up the blood.

“Just as I thought…”

The priestess gave her an inquisitive look, and Tinnok let the pause draw on just long enough that each and every snake was curious, then shrugged. “Tastes horrible.”

Several throaty chuckles echoed around the cavern and half breed knew she had the floor…if just for a little bit longer.

[Razkar]

It wasn't betrayal, and Razkar had to scream that mantra inside his own head over and over. It was an act; a facade. A deception of an enemy well-versed in such methods. Did you need to be a fine actor to "decieve" children? No, because they are simple creatures with honest minds. But for a conclave of Dhani, especially one as cunning as the Priestess undulating before them...

More extreme methods were needed.

Razkar wet his lips and let out a harsh bark of enraged pain as the first slice seared into his chest. First the shock of it, then the dull, aching pain as he bled. The chanting began when the blood flowed, but lower, reverent, so he could hear all that transpired.

The whispering hissing of Tinnok and the Priestess. His own labored breathing. And then, from beneath him...

"Traitor... Petching... Traitor..."

The words seemed to rise from Rehkuna without her mouth or lips or tongue even being used. Razkar glanced down and saw his mutilated Fang Leader's chest heaving faster now, effort of simply breathing taxing her beyond words. Her eyes weren't on him, though; they were fixed with unbridled hatred on Tinnok.

"Knew... you... would... turn..."

He saw the anguish and the rage congeal on Tinnok's face. The self-hate warring with the knowledge that it had to be this way... and the cold outrage that even now, she was still maligned. Even after all she was being forced to do...

"Had to... betray... in your... blood..." Rehkuna tried to spit but the dark blood came out as vomit instead "Fuck... ing... scum..."

A rasping chuckle issued from the Priestess and she circled the dying Myrian with slow, patient relish. Her voice was sharp with scorn and sarcasm, clearly enjoying every moment and wishing to prolong them.

"Ah, sssssssuch bitternesssss... 'tisssss beautiful, issssss it not? Thisssssss one hopessssss for a quick death..." The priestess chuckled again and drew close to Rehkuna, smiling with all her fangs and wagging a finger like a teacher to a disobedient child. "But ssssssuch is not the way of Lady Sssssssssiku. You will ssssssuffer for her, pig. Sssssssssuffer like the resssssst..."

Razkar dragged his eyes from the sight and back to Tinnok, still warring in her own eyes. He stared madly until they locked glares, trying through some nameless means to impress on her she had to continue. No matter what the pain, more time was needed. Even at a full sprint Ioxera would take time to reach the surface and they did not have long left.

I can take it. So can you. Now strike!

The dagger slashed forwards again, and Tinnok whimpered just slightly. The Priestess turned her head and Razkar screamed louder than he should have, marring and masking Tinnok's hushed cry. The blade dug into his shoulder, another "safe" wound... but this time she dug it round, light of madness and pain shining in her own eyes.

The sensation, it... assaulted him. It battered him down from the inside and only years of living in the harshest environment in Mizahar stopped him blacking out. Razkar bored into her with his eyes, hate and anger and sheer, stubborn determination keeping him going even as his body spasmed under him...

"That isssssss good, ssssssisssssster," the Priestess said judiciously, long, pale arm snaking out from behind Tinnok, where she had slithered, gently enclosing her hand around the one holding the dagger, hissing in the halfbreed's ear, "But your cutssssss... they are sssssshallow. You musssssst reach bone and organ, to caussssssse true pain. Here... I will sssssssshow you..."

Razkar braced himself, panting and grunting as the dagger was pressed home harder, fraction by fraction, and the pounding in his ears deafened him to everything that followed.

He let his head roll back and his eyes were bathed in the light of false hope. His lips moved in a wordless, soundless prayer for deliverance, in any shape. In Ixoera, or the Dark Water, Myri herself... or Dira. As long as it came, and in his weakness he felt shame wrack his body sure as agony.

They are coming, his mind growled at him, so you must endure. You must survive... if only for a little longer...

The dagger twisted in his flesh, and Razkar screamed.

Feet speeding along slimy stone and watery rock, untouched by any light other than those from the glowing fungal spores. First one set... then another... and another... and another. A dozen figure and more, moving in the silence demanded by stealth of approach and the fear of the Deep Darkness.

Moving deeper, weapons held tight, ready to do their duty to clan and Goddess-Queen.

Led by Ioxera, exhausted, ashen, eyes wanting so much to close and sleep, but honor and pride demanding she continue.

They plunged onward into the darkness, drawn to the screaming and hissing below.

[Tinnok]

It was strange to know that in this moment she felt least like a Dhani and most Myrian, with snakes surrounding her and her own breaths coming out in words closer to hisses than true utterances. She felt so raw and so exposed there, but a strange sense of….belonging hung there too, not to torture, Goddess no. But this role, the role that everyone would hate her, no matter which side she chose, yet knowing it was the right thing.

When Rekhuna spoke her heart nearly stopped. She should have expected it, but the venom, the sounds of her prideful last utterances said with bloody raw mouth and throat, it was nearly too much to bear. And then there were the eagle’s eyes: Strange that she could tell there was still a sliver of his damned pride in there when she looked. Pain, exhaustion, fear, and…forgiveness too, telling her to continue, giving her all the permission she needed with every cursed utterance and insult.

She nodded, making sure she did not flinch when scaled hands wrapped around her own clammy ones clutching the blade and dug it into his flesh. She noticed it hadn’t hit any organs…yet, but she could not smile when the hands were released and the priestess looked eager for her to continue.

She brought the tip close to a section of body no man could afford to lose, and saw the crowd of watching Dhani tense with anticipation. Along the inner thigh she dragged the blade, but the farther she went the deeper the blade rent flesh, until with a shudder and twitch of her whole body she felt the blade hit bone just above his knee. She took a shaky step back, keeping contact with his eyes, wondering how she would be able to apologize enough if they made it out alive…

Then that scaled hand grabbed her arm, squeezing her wrist so hard that the dagger fell out of her grasp and clattered to the floor as two golden orbs drew close to her own. “Enough gamessss traitor, thisss wasss certainly fun for all, but we all can ssssee which ssside you have chosssen, even if the dying pig cannot.” One hand grabbed at Tinnok’s throat and slammed her against a stalagmite pinning her against the roughhewn surface. “Where are the other two of your numbersss?”

Tinnok stammered and spluttered, unable to answer with her vocal chords being crushed by such a strong grasp. The priestess relaxed, albeit slightly, and Tinnok looked up into those eyes with a genuine smile. “I cut off their hands and feet and made them crawl for help.”

She knew a harsher slap then the one that burned the skin from her face with the friction of those scales might just snap her neck. “You’re right, you’re right, that was stupid. I…just removed their eyes and tongues and ate them as a mid afternoon snack.”

The dagger was lifted from the floor with a tail and shoved into and through her shoulder. Tinnok screamed in pain, the cry echoing across the halls. The priestess began to twist and Tinnok moaned. “Alright! Alright!”

There was a pause and Tinnok heaved shallow breaths, eyes still focused on Razkars, a beacon in the otherwise insurmountable darkness. She heard nothing from Rekhuna, and wondered if the fang leader had perished, knowing the half breed was a traitor. It mattered little now, surely it was over and all was done, but at least Erama and Ioxera had a chance, and this little…party of Dhani would be eradicated from the earth, never to return. She licked dry and cracked lips, looking up into the eyes of her executioner, but there was no smile to be had now when she spoke. “They are actually right here in this cavern, but invisible, waiting for the precise moment to-”

Two clawed fingers were shoved down her throat. Tinnok balked and gagged, trying to release them, and the contents of her stomach heaved up and out, filling up her throat but unable to escape. Suffocating on her own bile Tinnok’s eyes widened and the priestess chuckled, her chuckle growing into a laugh that filled the entirety of the chamber. Just as Tinnok felt her vision begin to blur, her body convulsing, the fingers were removed and the bird from the previous evening along with a few other tidbits spilled forth and out, onto her, the rocks, and even the priestess, who didn’t seem to mind. She beckoned with two fingers and two other Dhani strung her up like Razkar, sliding her over next to him.

“Fetch the bladed whip.”

Oh that sounded fun. She managed a weak smile at Razkar, part of her relieved that there were no more games to play, despite the physical pain that meant.