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Part 10: Obsession


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#1 Guest_C'est Nedra_*

Posted 20 May 2004 - 03:15 AM

Man in the Iron Mask Part 10: Obsession

“It seems every day as if I am living in a parallel plane...that which seems beautiful holds a poisoned blade, and that which seems malevolent is a shadowed friend...”

-Diary of Sarevok of the Iron Throne




Sarevok froze in his steps, his feet seemingly stuck to the floor and his body paralyzed. He jerked his head around and saw a dark figure gathering in the shadow of the dimly lit hallway, seeping from the dark stone walls and floors into a pool of inky blackness. Two dark eyes peered out from snow white skin stretched over protruding cheekbones, and a pair of thick lips slipped over wide, bright teeth.

“I truly had expected you to never return to this place, this standing reminder of your failures and unfortunate death,” the mage said impassively, his unnerving grin widening into a insidious smile.

Sarevok flinched, his fists clenching and his brow furrowing deeply. “Circumstances beyond my control brought me here, otherwise I would have never neared this city, nevertheless this tower,” he retorted, breathing deeply and involuntarily checking to see if his mask still covered his face. The wizard’s keen eyes followed his hand and then returned to his face, seemingly able to pierce through the metal, skin, and bone, boring into his very mind.

“Were you thoroughly convinced that such a paltry peice of scrap metal would serve sufficiently as a disguise? Possibly to hide you from the fools that gallivant around this city spouting their laws and such, but not for your teacher, the one who taught you how to properly hold that sword you reach for,” he said, snorting as Sarevok ripped his hand away from the great sword strapped on his back.

“Has death roughened your edges to such a great extent? I had thought you would be the proverbial phoenix, rising from the ashes even more powerful than prior to your untimely demise,” the mage sneered, scanning critically over Sarevok. “By the way, how was the Abyss? Were there complimentary drinks on the warmer days? Were the demons as friendly as you had presumed? I am sure they were quite eager to do your bidding,” The man’s smile lingered on his lips, his dark eyes almost dancing with mocking laughter. Sarevok felt anger well within his breast, the same rage than had flowed through his veins as he stabbed the simulacrum in the gut, only to find it to be a hollow image.


He looked down at the man, the black robed mage clutching his metal staff with strong fingers. “My illusions of grandeur were deceptive, as I quickly discovered in the Abyss,” Sarevok replied, I only wish you could have joined me there... “I have returned from the fires of hell, and I am the stronger for it, I would not have it any other way.” His jaw clenched and his fists tightened, he would not have this fool test his strength, this coward that had hidden from the public’s eye within the towering morgue of the Iron Throne!


“Yes, always the fighter, I was confident in your pernicious disposition if nothing else...I imagine the Abyss spat you out after the first taste,” the mage agreed, glancing over Sarevok approvingly. “I should thank you for your ‘illusions of grandeur’, as you say, if you had not been so painfully over-confident I might not be alive at this moment. Simulacrum is a glorious spell, don’t you agree?” Winski’s smile grew sharper, his eyes more dark and sinister. His pale skin sunk into the cavities beneath his cheekbones, his thick eyebrows arching lightly.

“I do not blame you for preserving your life, I would have done the same,” Sarevok replied shortly, “I have changed much since my previous life on this plane, I have...matured.” He saw one of Winski’s brows arch sharply, and he reached his hands up to remove him helm. The mage’s eyes widened momentarily as the metal peice fell to the ground, then returned to their usual narrow slit.

“So I see that infernal wrath of yours has been subdued, your eyes...they are different...interesting, although I care not,” he murmured, seemingly to himself, then drew his staff sharply to his side, lifting it and pointing the blunt end towards Sarevok’s sweating face. “I knew you would betray me, it was only a matter of time...I had my doubts about your father all along, but as time passed you became a greater object of concern, the avarice within your mind reacted quite explosively with the chaos within your breast.” The wizard’s eyes trailed along Sarevok’s armor-clad body, then scanned over his sweating face and stubbled forehead.

Sarevok was not sure whether he could defeat the mage, who had presumably been occupying his time with spells and tomes...he would need to find a weakness, and soon. “I was born a Bhaalspawn and bred to become a monster, the result was predictable even for the most half-witted fool,” he remarked dryly, his amber eyes fixing on Winski’s. His thick brows were knitted, his thick lips pursed together into a tight line, he could feel beads of sweat dripping down the back of his neck.


“Yes, you were a Bhaalspawn, I see the removal of the taint affected you somewhat differently than would have been expected,” Winski said, stepping towards Sarevok with confident strides. He stopped before the giant man, raising his head and staring up with coal-black eyes.


“You have been ‘redeemed’ as the religious fanatics would call it, the road was difficult and the path twisted, but you have succeeded...I truly did not believe it possible.” Sarevok felt his jaw drop open with shock, how would Winski know...

“Did you think those tattoos on your head were for decorative purposes? Foolish boy, you were always so incredibly gullible, did I not tell you to think about things instead of just flying by the seat of your trousers?!” the mage said, sighing and shaking his head. “I swear....one would think you learned nothing from me...” Sarevok rubbed a coarse hand over his stubbled head, of course, but he had thought they were to strengthen him...

“Strengthen yes, but also to create a link between you and I, as I did with all of my students...it is a necessity when raising depraved ‘monsters’ as you would say, betrayal is always as near as a dagger and an arrow, I know your purpose for coming as I have always known...it is an odd coincidence, your father was quite set on arranging your marriage to the girl before she escaped Angelo’s iron grasp,” the wizard said, waving a hand towards a desk and pair of chairs. “Let us sit, we have much to discuss.”

Sarevok felt dazed, he scanned around the room warily for any traps, how could one he had attempted to murder now treat him with any shred of kindness. It was suspicious, he knew Winski never entered an agreement without some form of payment, he would always be the one benefitting from a transaction...Sarevok was wary, quite wary indeed.

“You see, I could only harbor resentment against you if I had not anticipated the attack, I knew your reasons and they were valid, and you were rather out of your mind after the unfortunate incident with Tamoko,” Winski said, lowering himself into a chair directly across from Sarevok’s. He leaned forward and set his elbows on the dark wood, propping his bony shoulders up so he could rest his chin within his spindly fingers.

Sarevok sat down, sighing audibly as his armor clanked against the delicately carved arms. “Tamoko is at peace, I have reconciled myself with that fact,” he said, his thick hands clutching the knobs adorning the end of the wooden arms. Winski nodded and leaned back, folding his thin arms in his lap and looking intently at the fighter before him. “Semaj has the woman, I have kept some contact with the man after our little ‘agreement’, mainly to collect my payments. He was quite obsessed with the girl,” he remarked, a half-smile creeping at the corner of his mouth as Sarevok’s fists clenched. “It is as I said, simulacrum is quite the useful spell.”

Sarevok leaned forward, his veins protruding from his skin and the blood pounding in his ears. “So Semaj was not killed by the Bhaalspawn, he escaped.” Winski grinned, and nodded his head, “now he has everything he could wish for, life, wealth, and the obedient yet beautiful wife.”

“Wife?!” Sarevok choked, “the gods couldn’t force that woman into marriage!”

Winski wagged his long finger at the fighter, clucking lightly with his tongue. “Tut tut, my boy, there you go again with your hasty logic. You forget one minor influence on her thought processes.”



Sarevok sat for moment, then an image of the symbol burned into her chest flashed in his mind. “Your curse,” he replied shortly. The mage nodded and opened a drawer before him, pulling out a thick book bound in clean black leather. He flipped through the pages gently, then stopped and turned the book around, pushing it before Sarevok to see.

“You see,” he said, motioning towards the crisp page, “she has no other choice.” Sarevok glanced up at the mage then back down at the book before him, he immediately recognized the design, the dancing lines radiating out from a oddly woven circle.

“I had much time to spend deep in study, even while teaching my students, and I quickly learned the basic skills of runecasting and tattooing. Some of the dwarves and Red Wizards were not so keen on my gleaning my knowledge from them, but could always find ways to convince them that it was the better choice,” Winski said, his lips curving into a cruel grin.

Ever ambitious... Sarevok thought to himself, then glanced at the writing beside the illustration.



Rune of Greater Devotion



A spell to ensure complete obedience and utter devotion. To be used only in cases of subjects who are extremely resistant to magic or have been unaffected by lesser spells of the same type. The spell is complete and irreversible, and will have effect on the subject when the rune is triggered by a certain object. The nearer the subject is to the trigger, the stronger the effect of the enchantment. Destruction of the said object will result in the permanent death of the subject. The spell will remain in a latent period able to be triggered by the object until a certain procedure is performed, such as a ceremony, or even a passage of time, after which it will become fully effective, permanently.



Procedure: Help is recommended for the etching of the rune, as the pain is often excruciating and the subject will thrash and protest. The subject must be under the effect of no other enchantments, and must be awake throughout the entire procedure...






Sarevok shoved the book back towards Winski in disgust, then leaned back to fold his arms over his chest tightly. “So it is pointless to even pursue her, she is marked as Semaj’s and there is no way to alter that fact...destroying his ‘trigger’ will only further complicate the matter...” he said, sighing and clutching his strong chin in his hand as he frowned darkly. Winski looked at him with a half-smile on his lips, then leaned forward, his face twitching with amusement.

“There is always a way, my pupil, have you not learned this after ‘scratching and crawling your way back into the land of the living’?” he asked, his black eyes glittering mischievously. “Although, I do not see why you are so keen on gallantly rescuing this woman...she hardly seems to fit with the type you so commonly chose from among the local whores,” he said disinterestedly, snapping the leather book shut and replacing it in the drawer before him.

“She is a valuable comrade, ferocious in battle...I would regret losing her...” Sarevok began, then felt a warmth growing at the base of his cheeks. “Sword,” he finished, scowling darkly as one of the mage’s eyebrows arched sharply.

“Her sword, is it? My how death, or the prospect of it, changes a man,” Winski said. Sarevok glanced at him curiously, then gently rubbed a thick thumb across his stubbled chin.

“If we are to find a solution then I suggest we begin immediately, it is not as if I have all of the time in the world,” Winski said, a wide grin crossing his pale face.




 




Semaj glanced over at the door nervously, it was ripping his very heart from his aching chest to be so far from her. She had to prepare, but he could barely stand it...it had been so long. One more day...one more night... he thought to himself, a half-grin pulling at the corner of his thin mouth, one more night alone, one more night without her. Then should would be his, his and noone else’s. It amused him that her ‘companions’ had so easily taken the ruse, taken her share of the money and left town, his spies had not caught sight of the armored man since he received the letter...the gnome was with family. Such a shame, my love, to be deserted so easily, he thought, his knobby hands tightly gripping the arms of his wooden chair, I will never leave you.

Winski had done an impeccable job with the runecasting, her escape had not been anticipated, the guards were not prepared for one so well trained as her. It was that youth, Sarevok, he had poisoned her mind just like everyone else’s...it mattered not, he was long dead now. Rage boiled within him as he remembered the handsome boy’s arms encircling her thin waist, whisking her across the dance floor, charming her with all the power of his tainted blood. His mouth brushing against her perfect ears...his fingers gently resting on her smooth back...her eyes as they danced, so bright...they were never that bright for him. No, when with him her eyes were a deep blue, nearly black, even now in this state they burned in his mind...he could see the hatred within them. Hate, always hate, never love, never concern, never interest...hate...pure hate. His thin fingers wrapped around the arms of the chair, he could feel the wood splintering away from the back of the seat. I will make her love me...so much pain my love, so much pain...

He gently pulled his dark gray robes away from his chest, revealing a strange pattern of lines woven around a delicate circle, the mark of the pain he had suffered for her...the mark that kept her tied to him. His bony fingertips slipped across the scars, tracing the outline on his smooth skin. You are mine. I will never let you go. He knew what would happen if she protested, if somehow the spell did not work...this was his final effort, the minor spells he had attempted had no effect, he had suspected that her mother was protecting her...so he killed her. She looked so much like her daughter, it was a shame to hear her scream, but she had to learn not to interfere. Shar’s screams filled the one side of the house, her mother’s the other...he had to guarantee she was under the effect of no other enchantments. She would have to comply, for her own sake.


I love you, I will kill you.


But I’ll love you forever.




 



Shar stood in her room, gazing blankly at the reflection in the mirror. Women bustled around her, measuring parts and pinching others, tucking this and pinning that, but she could barely see them. She barely heard them whisper things about some ceremony, a marriage, how splendid...it had been such a long time since she had been to a wedding. It would be so pretty, with flowers and lots of people all crying and laughing, a beautiful dress and a handsome groom. She looked before her and saw a thin girl dressed in a stunning white lace gown that flowed over her thin arms and long legs, she looked so innocent, so young. She must be the one getting married, how marvelous.... she thought to herself, then felt a smile tug at the corners of her lips. Strangely, the girl began to smile too, then broke out into a fit of laughter. Shar looked down and saw her chest heaving with peals of laughter...the girl looked so familiar...

It is you fool! Look into the mirror, look into the eyes! she heard a loud voice growl within her mind, a foreign voice that still managed to sound so familiar.

She glanced at the mirror more closely, paying attention to the dark hue of the girl’s eyes standing before her. They seemed rather angry, as if another person were trapped within the body...but she looked so beautiful...


“Here darling,” a voice called, “try on this ring, to be sure the size is correct.” Shar grabbed the gold band and slipped it over her ring finger, noting that it fit perfectly. “What is this for?” she asked, looking up into a servants light brown eyes.

“Your wedding love, tomorrow. Musn’t have a misfit ring, that would be a terrible thing,” the woman answered.

Wedding?! I’m the bride?! she thought to herself, her mind screaming in protest.


“Oh how wonderful, I get to have my own wedding...”




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