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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Ghostknight" data-source="post: 3372722" data-attributes="member: 15338">Chapter 6I posted tomorrow's update today- I'm not sure if I will be online tomorrow.  if I am- then this is a bonus and there will be another updtae tomorrow!The forest had changed when they emerged from beneath the ground.  It was silent, still.  Dead leaves crunched underfoot, brittle and sharp despite having been soaked in the rain.  Most of the trees stood stripped of their leaves, and many small animals and birds lay dead on the ground.  They found many more of these testaments to the lethal, tainted rain as they progressed. They travelled for two more days, with Gyv leading them confidently as she approached her home.  For the most part they travelled in silence, they did not have much to say, their thoughts on the massacred ant-man tribe and the devastation wrought by just one deluge of the red rain.  They all thought it, but none said it, "How many more rains before all is tainted, before life is all but impossible for those who want to remain free of the fiends?" On the last day of their trip, they descended a deep ravine.  Broken rocks were scattered across the ravine floor, with roots and vines hanging down the sides.  They made their way through the rocks, going up to what looked like a solid wall of stone.  Gyv took her medallion from around her neck and held it in one hand.  The other she placed upon the rock, chanting in a tongue taught only to those sworn to the Divine Mother.  The rock glowed, revealing a door which opened to her touch.  The three stepped within, into a well-lit, plain white room with arrow slits cut into the walls, allowing observation, and, if necessary, attack, from all angles.  A single door was on the far wall, at least fifty feet away.   "Welcome to the House of Souls.  Someone should open for us soon, we are being watched."  Gyv's voice was light, her happiness at being home apparent.  They all stood and waited, unsurprised when the door flew open and a tall, brown haired man came forward.  He was clad in a simple, open necked shirt that a farmer might wear, and pants made of homespun cotton.  His face radiated a huge smile as he approached Gyv, clasping her to him. "Welcome home, my love."  He looked down into Gyv's eyes, expecting to see his love, his desire reflected within, yet he saw dancing flames and a fiendish face instead.  "Wha..."  The sentence was never finished; Gyv's blade exited his throat, ending his life in that moment.  The blood shot out, drenching the front of her shirt.  She turned, blood drenched, her husband's body crumbling to the ground behind her. Horrified Mekior and Jeria draw their weapons, but too late.  The wall behind them crumbled and massive fiends entered the room, charging the two down and pinning them to the ground.  More fiends rushed past, heading into the complex, laughing and calling out to each other, anticipating the blood shed to come.  Gyv stood over her companions, her eyes no longer bearing any resemblance to anything human.  She stood aside as a massive devil entered.  Tall, well muscled, covered in armour designed more to impress and intimidate than to protect.  His face was almost human, handsome, the fangs but a small blemish amongst the perfection. He came forward and stroked Gyv's face.  "Many thanks, my puppet.  I have sought this place for an age!"  As he stroked her face, her features smoothed, her eyes blanked, and she fell slowly to the ground.  Only then did he look at the two held down by his minions. "What is this?"  He knelt down, his massive hand lifting Jeria's head, inspecting it.  "A rogue pup!  I wonder whose?  You bear the look of an aristocratic father.  It is a pity about the weak human blood.  Never mind, we can find out quite easily to whom you belong."  He looked at Mekior, lifting his head up by his hair.  "You are already marked.  Have you ever told the humans your little secret?"  He laughed, releasing his hair, watching as his chin bounced on the floor, split open and released a small stream of blood. "Bring them to my chambers later.  For now, immobilise them all."  He left, not looking back as his minions produced strong ropes and expertly tied up the three captives.   *** The line of slaves stretched back far.  The devils had been thorough and, behind them, thick black smoke poured out from what had once been the refuge of the House of Souls.  Above the ground devils wandered, seeking stray smoke, indications of exits they may not have yet found.    The three companions were kept separate from the rest.  They were strung up on wooden spars, carried aloft by massive, powerful devils.  They hung from above, arms burning in pain, as their arms were forced to bear the weight of the body hanging down.  From above, they had no choice but to watch as the inhabitants of the House of Souls were marched away, with whiplashes being doled out senselessly and continuously.  Gyv, still in shock, could still feel her husband's blood spurting onto her; and see her children paraded in front of her, the collar of slavery placed upon their necks.  Was it worse that her memories had been restored in the moment the devil had withdrawn his presence from her mind?  Or would ignorance and the blackness of death been better? She hung there, weeping; crying, continuously whispering to herself, begging for forgiveness, imploring the Gods to help.  Mekior and Jeria hung alongside her and listened to her prayers, her mutterings, but remained silent themselves.  Mekior was numbed by what had happened, the half-fiend proven blameless, the heroine proven to be the weapon of their demise.   "I ran for three days."  Gyv's voice had changed, the edge of madness had left it and now it sounded rational. "That was when they got me.  I ran blindly, non-stop for three whole days."  She shook her head, eyes blackened from crying, tearstains streaking both cheeks.  "They started torturing me, but then HE came.  He told them to stop, ordered them to leave me unmarked.  I didn't understand, not until he started to torture me, and he proved subtler than the others by far!  I did not know magic could be wielded in such manner; in many ways his intelligence, his inventiveness could be admired.  Eventually I lost all sense of what he had done and remembered nothing; my first memories after my flight from when I came to so close to your city."  She paused, "one of you must escape, warn them.  He must be planning to destroy it now that he knows it is there!" "Oh, indeed I am, and will!"  He stepped into the light, an intimidating figure, not just for his immense twelve foot height, but for the ease with which he moved; the authority he just assumed as he approached.  "But I have something more immediate to resolve.  He came up to Jeria, and once again cradled his head in his hand.  He withdrew a small knife, its blade razor sharp and made of cold iron, the hilt decorated with platinum inset with gems.  Quickly, deftly, he sliced down Jeria's cheek, collecting the blood into a goblet.  He drew the blade across his own hand, and added three drops of his own blood to the goblet, throwing the mix into a nearby bowl. "Show me, tell me!  Let the devil's blood call to the devil's blood!  Show me the father of this scion!"  He peered into the bowl, waiting, wandering.  When the results did show themselves, his face changed, surprise vied with amusement. "Say hello to Dad, little one, guess your mother must have been one of my whores!"A gesture, a smirk, and the fiendish lord watched as his underlings cut Jeria down. "Leave his arms trussed for the moment; I'm not ready to risk his escape."  The devil looked down at Jeria. "You will learn to call me Master, as well as father, though that is of little consequence.  All these around here bow to me.  I am General Gerion; I rule this area and report to the great lord himself, letting him know how things go within his domain.  You shall address me as Master, or Lord," he paused and then laughed, "unless you want to call me Dad!"  He walked off, leaving two devils to watch over the bewildered Jeria. For Jeria everything seemed to be going past through a fog of bewilderment.  From the moment that the devil had announced him his son, to the pain of renewed circulation within his arm and the little speech from his father, all seemed a nightmare.  He had known his father was a fiend, but this!  Stories of the General Gerion were plentiful; countless atrocities lay at his door, thousands of deaths, mutilations and depravities spoken about in hushed whispers. From above Mekior looked down and then closed his eyes. Concentrating, calling on what little magic he knew.  Hear me Jeria.  You cannot help who your father is, but you can help the city.  Get away; you are the only one who can.  Warn them, get them to flee into the under realms and seek out shelter elsewhere.  Tthe city is lost.  And kill me and Gyv if you can; don't leave us to face the wrath of your father when you get away! Jeria looked up, bewilderment on his face.  He heard Mekior within his mind, no words had been spoken, the fiend hunter had always struck him as a man comfortable only with magic that would let him hurt, rend, bring pain onto his foes, lead him to his foes, not with anything this subtle.  Stop, don't ask how I can do this just accept it.  Get away, escape when you can!  Once again the voice of Mekior rang in his mind, but even with such an exhortation, how would he escape? Jeria stood and looked at his captors, and then his companions hanging above.I will escape, I will get away!  The encampment around him was filled with devils celebrating, their human soldiers getting drunk and gouging themselves on food stolen from their latest conquest.  You will all die, so swear I! One of the devils watching him, grabbed his arm and dragged him roughly through camp.  He threw him into a tent, atop a pile of furs.  "You will sleep here.  In the morning the General will see to you."  The voice was guttural, hard to understand, though the language was the common one the devils enforced onto all.  The devil stepped out into the night, leaving Jeria alone within.   Jeria sank onto the furs, emotions overwhelming him.  The stress of being captured, seeing one of the safe houses of the House of Souls destroyed, of finding out who his father was, and the as yet unabated pain in his arms, all combined to defeat his stoic control.  He was wracked him with sobs, the likes of which he had never experienced before.  He stopped immediately the door began to open, the discipline of a life of facing bullies and those who would see him weakened, enough to allow him to hide his emotions at but a moments notice.   A woman entered; naked but for the collar of slavery she wore around her neck.  She was beautiful; dark hair flowed down her back, and her blue eyes pierced his.  Her full red lips melded to him, and her warmth was a balm against the cold of the night air.  No words were spoken, the offered physical release obvious and quickly accepted.  For Jeria, rejected and derided his entire life, the experience was new; never before had he been with a woman and this image of beauty guided and taught him, before they fell asleep, wrapped together under the thick furs that formed both mattress and blankets. They were awoken in the morning by the sun from outside lashing across their faces as the flap at the entrance was thrown aside.  The massive figure of Gerion stood there, smiling.  "As you can see, my son, there are advantages to being my offspring.  You want Sianar back tonight, or would you like another?"  The smile came across as warm and friendly, but Jeria did not trust it.  He remained silent and Gerion continued speaking in the absence of any reply.  "Not ready to say?  No matter, I shall send her and some friends over.  Have one or many, they will do as you wish.  Willingly.  You see, my son, some have accepted their place, their role, within our great society.  Some fill the ranks of my army; others serve as we desire them to, but all serve to the greater good of Jelial’s Empire.  You, too, shall find your niche, your place in society.  Already, you are above the rabble."  He turned and left. Jeria rolled over, ashamed of how he had used the woman, and had not even know her name until it was spoken by a fiend!  He stared at the walls of the tent, not hearing as she left, only knowing of her absence by the closing of the flap.  Alone once more, he wept, this time from shame and self-pity.  His thoughts were clear when he finally regained control of himself: I must get away before I am destroyed!</blockquote>

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