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As Niles made his way down to his bedroll in the basement, thoughts ran through his head all the way. He has harboured resentment towards Cha'kaar for all these years, his inability to settle in one place for more than a few years caused no end of problems for the bird who was bound by rites so strict that it was said the gods watched over those rites themselves. It was because of his wavering in his belief of the rites and his wish to settle down that he had obtained his scar. If Cha'kaar had just stopped running from whatever was chasing him, then maybe they could have stayed friendly.

But tonight changed all of that. Tonight, that dumb wolf had done what he thought impossible, he had saved not only him, but the town itself. Even from so far under the ground, Niles could feel the wards strengthening, their caster now fully restored, they had as well, protecting the town at night from whatever would lurk in the darkness of the marshes.

His claws clacked on the stone as he pulled up the seat to the desk, placing the box delicately in front of him before holding his head in his hands, contemplating what he was about to do. It took a good few minutes of thinking, but he knew from the beginning, that Cha'kaar had earned this.

Niles slid the box towards him, the polished wood seeming to glow in the dim candlelight. He pressed his thumb against the catch, and the faintest click could be heard, the lid lifted carefully to reveal the contents of the box he'd carried with him for over a decade.

The contents of such a valuable looking box, no bigger than an actual shoebox, would prove to be a bit of a shock to any thief who would dare try to take it from him. Inside, was a small pouring jug, with a cork firmly wedged into the neck, to prevent the contents from leaking, and the other item that dominated the box, was a handcarved wooden dildo. Niles heart always skipped a beat whenever he saw it, a mixture of dread of what was to come, and of awe at the craftsmanship.

Since the rite, he had spent a lot of time and coin on getting the measurements and contours right. Their was not a single splinter, or raised mark across it's entire surface, and every inch was painstakingly sculpted to exact measurements of Cha'kaar's manhood. Despite that one night, he had spent hours studying every single inch, and knew it all off by heart to provide the most detailed drawings and instructions to the woodcutter who created it, and was told to leave it in a tree stump well out of the way of the village. A fat purse of coins was his reward for following it exactly, yet a second set of instructions went to the enchanter to obtain it from it's hiding spot and create the most realistic and strongest spells he could weave into the object, preventing it from being marred with overuse or carelessness. The result lay before him within the elegant piece before him, the craftsmanship insured it felt lifelike, and would even last longer than the owner would possibly live.

He lifted it from the velvet, the dark wood had a beautiful sheen from the finish of the wood and the spells woven into every particle of it, which made it warm to the touch. The amount of detail and care that had gone into such a magnificent piece or woodworking and enchanting was worth every coin to those that desired something that felt real. Niles didn't desire such a thing. He needed it.

Despite the obvious awe of the craftsmanship, which got to him every single time he laid eyes on it, his loins did not stir, not one tingle ran through his form. He needed it, but he did not want it.

It was with a heavy sigh that he set the item on the table, and pulled forth the specially made jug, yanking out the cork. The heady scent of the oils creeped into his lungs, exciting him, and he soon felt his shaft begin to stir in his vent. Not once had he managed to do this without help, only once did he manage such a feat, and that was a long time ago.

He twitched the robes aside, revealing his member as it slipped out with every lungful of the heady liquids, his tailhole easily visible as he slipped down the chair to expose it. A hand wrapped around his hardening shaft as he carefully pumped, teasing himself until his shaft was as hard as stone. As he brought the dildo close to the jug of oil, the liquid began to creep up the side closest to the item in his hand, and with a simple, short pour, the oil greatfully met the wood, slathering one side in the slippery stuff, spreading out over every inch of the item, from tip to knot, the base was left dry.

Niles pushed his foot against the desk, leaning the chair on two legs, his rump easily accessable now. He breathed in deep the sweet-smelling aroma as he pumped his shaft, the tip of the dildo swam with oil as it neared his ring, and a few drops even lept onto the skin, lubricating it, and helping to numb it of all pain as he pressed the tip against his enterance, and pushed in slowly.

A shuddering gasp escaped his beak as the tip slipped in, his tailhole beginning to stretch easily, the oil helping to relax the muscle somewhat. Beads of pre were forming on the tip of his shaft already and barely an inch had sunk in. He twittered a little as yet another inch pushed into his depths, spreading his tender cheeks. His head was already beginning to swim with the scent of the oil, and their were six and seven eights of inches of toy to go, including the knot. Niles had studied under Cha'kaar very well that night.

His chair rocked a little as he pumped the first few inches in and out of him, getting used to the feeling of his tender form being spread and filled, gradually working the inches into his body until he felt the knot itself press against his enterance. He twitched and twittered near constantly, feeling as if the entirety of the world no longer existed and all that mattered was the intense pleasure shooting through every fibre of his being. His shaft throbbing hard in his hand as spurts of pre marked his belly feathers and silk robes.

Time passed rapidly for him, as it always did. Despite over fourty minutes of rapid pumping of the toy, as well as his shaft, he wouldn't climax, and he knew that it would only happen the way it did that night oh so long ago, when Cha'kaar had tied with him, sharing their climax in one beautiful moment.

He would capture that beauty again tonight.

Niles began to pound his rump with the dildo, the knot pressing against his tender ring, stretching it with each thrust. He twittered madly, moaned, writhed and nearly lost his balance as the thrusts of his toy became more forced, now driven by lust and determination to finish what he started. A final, hard push caused the knot of his toy to slip inside of him finally, putting a great deal of pressure onto his prostate. He let out a shuddering gasp, calling out to the goddess as he climaxed. Sticky ropes of seed coated his belly and his robes as he shuddered in pure extacy. His supporting leg twitched hard and he lost his balance, ending up on the floor with a loud clatter, unhurt, but wonderfully happy and spent.

He spent a few blissful minutes laying against the cold flagstones before the mist finally began to release his mind, relieving him of his afterglow, wether he wanted it gone or not. It was with great reluctance, that he got to his feet and corked the jar before it's contents pushed him back into that hazy, warm place once more, and simply curled up in his bedroll, leaving the toy inside him for now. He drifted off into sleep, his head still partly in the clouds, preventing the guilt and shame he would otherwise feel from such glorious actions.

He slept a dreamless sleep that night.

~***~

Sirus was deep into the marshes before he lashed out and screamed to the heavens, using his talons to tear deep grooves into the nearest tree. The alchemist had been right there, his guard lowered and yet he did not strike! Why, was a reason his stolen thoughts were rapidly trying to piece together, like a sliding puzzle box. Glimpses of images in his minds eye, the image of headstones, the scent of crushed grass and mud underfoot, snippets of music or voices echoing through his skull. It was all just meaningless to him, a distraction from the death and carnage he longed to perform.

The wells of rage that had laid buried for years within this body had been unearthed and merely added a sheen to the already seething hatred the Sundered had brought into this world. This was amplified as he stared at his ruined hand. It was still useable, but the fur was charred and the veins, although they had sunk back down into the skin were still fairly visible. A perminant mark of his failure to kill a boy, a weak old man and and a backyard herbalist who fancied himself a warrior spell slinger.

Sirus considered adding a few more marks to the tree when the pieces slotted together and he finally understood, the images playing in his head with sound and clarity. The merchant Sirus had visited the town previously, many times in fact, but this particular visit to the graveyard had surfaced for his attention.

The four gravestones were new, and had gained little to no moss in this damp place. Sirus commented on this to Niles who simply replied: "They were the helpers of the alchemist who lives somewhere in the marshes. They each died while looking for something after their curfew. You'd think mages would have a little more sense in such a place, wouldn't you?"

The rest faded into background noise and flickers of images in the back of his mind as he focused on the birds words. Mages! Four of them, just left to rot in the sodden dirt! Sirus cracked a mad grin and sprinted through the trees and undergrowth to find his master. He'd want to know of such a find.

~***~

Cha'kaar left the boy to rest, his lust sated for tonight. Their coupling had been their first, as far as Darrius knew. The last two had been under the influence of the mists he had used on the vulpines first night. He turned to watch Darrius snoozing gently on his side, the covers barely covering his rump. Poor thing'd catch his death from cold, but the wolf wasn't going to be long. It took less than a minute to find the source of the shuffling he'd heard during their lovemaking. Ryan was lurking behind a tapestry on the balcony, watching them through the doorway. He blushed hotly as Cha'kaar pulled the heavy weave away from him, exposing his naked form, his trousers gone.

"Err... H-hey there... I-I'm realy sorry, b-but I... I heard you and him a-and... well, it's... it's been a while..." He finished lamely, staring at the floor. The lupine clapped a hand onto his shoulder and helped escort him down the stairs, chuckling to himself.

"Look Ryan, I don't blame you for listening in, not that you have a choice with those ears of yours, but still, go and find another outlet that doesn't involve watching us being intimate." With that. Cha'kaar left the bat at the bottom of the stairs before hurrying back to cuddle up to his vixen. He chuckled at that. Darrius had insisted during one of the more passionate moments of their coupling, and it seemed rather fitting. The vulpine stirred as he clambered in under the sheets, but soon settled as the wolf pulled him close, resting his muzzle between the boys ears, their warmth heating the tiny living space wonderfully as they both once again began to drift into slumber.

~***~

Sirus found it ironic that his body was aquired just above their hideout, away from greedy eyes. The towers walls submitted to his energies and formed a crude passage inside. As the ferret made his way inside, he considered how his master had made it to such an age, and was shocked to learn that he was not the master's first assistant, nor would he be the last. The tower was the tallest part of a much larger building that had succumed to the marshes terrible soil and sunk out of sight, and out of mind of every mortal alive. The master had moved in centuries ago, and had made some changes to the layout, hence Sirus entered into the great hall rather than where the tower would normally exit out to.

The gloom was illuminated by the arcane glow of rows upon rows of horrid items, some mundane, some horrific, and all seemed to perpetuate an air of dread. Sirus knew he had nothing to fear of the items on show, but even the short walk to the other end of the room left him unnerved and slightly twitchy. Why the master had collected the gaudy and awful things from ruins around the marshes was anyones guess.

The end of the room was occupied by an ornate throne, worn and a little rotten from lack of use and the marches of time, and perched on it's haunches was the imp, idily running a coin across the fingers he made himself just for the occasion. They faded and the coin clattered to the ground as he caught sight of the ferret, lucid and fresh-looking.

"You have until my patience runs out to explain how you've managed to repair that... thing you ride around in." Sirus stumbled and stuttered his way through his explination, of the pull he felt towards the town, how he drained a mage dry, and tried his best to skim over the details of his defeat. The imp, his master, was unimpressed and held up his hand, the fingers reforming as he directed some of his energies towards them.

"So... Some elderly codger pulled you away from his side, and could easily do so again if they wished, and despite the huge wells of magic you pulled from that child, you still failed to beat any of them into submission, let alone kill them..." His hand twitched and the sound drained from Sirus' world and his whole body tensed. A gentle tug and a waning of his higher senses told him all he needed to know. His master had branded him a failure and was to drain him until he no longer existed. The veins in his arms began to rise to the surface, their light blue sheen already beginning to fade, pulling away the magic he'd used to keep his body functional. His mind raced, even as it began to slow. He focused his strength and managed to move his jaw.

"W-wait!" He mumbled, his eyes focused on his fingertips, which had begun to turn black.

"They... have mages! D-Dead mages...!"

"So?" Was the reply, the drain neither slowing, nor speeding up. "Dead mages pose less of a problem than the live ones."

"You... c-could revive... revive them!" Screamed Sirus. "Natural m-magic shielding...! Never... neverending source of magic!" The ferret hadn't felt the need to breathe since he died, but he gasped all the same, taking in deep lungfuls as the magical drain was removed.

"...Explain." The imp had grown in size from the meager amount of power he'd pulled from his assistant, enough to actually lounge quite comfortably in the creaking throne.

Sirus recalled every instance of the burial rites he'd remembered from the stolen memories of Niles, all the while pumping mana back into his fingers. The aging amulets were an important feature of the plan, as it was impossible to put a Sundered in a corpse that was merely skin and bones.

"-So their's every chance we could have four mages to supply us with the excess energies, they pick it up from just existing, as far as I recall..." His master was taking a keen interest, which made him sigh with relief, having just managed to save his fingers from turning to ash. The mortals had a curious urge hardwired into the sack of dirty water they called brains that he found quite satisfying, and it was rather difficult to do such a thing without any fingers. The master leaned forward and steepled his fingers, the humanoid form he'd gained from the little magic he'd gleaned from his assistant had done wonders to improve his height and improved the digit count of each hand.

"Show me where they are buried, we gain new deciples this very night."

Sirus nodded and rapidly backed away down the aisle of grim oddities he'd recently passed, pausing as he only now noticed a gap in the collection, the pedestal standing empty. A shove against his muzzle forced him onwards.

"That does not concern you. Move!" A sharp kick followed as Sirus scrambled up the stairs, his master was clearly annoyed, but for what reason, he could not fathom. Their were hundreds of "relics" lurking in the muck of the marshes, he knew because he could feel the weight of their energies, much like several weights on a rubber sheet, so why would he be upset over the loss of one grim looking bauble when it could be replaced by an equally grim bauble from any part of the marshes? As Sirus made it to the night air, he realised that his master must simply be upset from not thinking of such a plan himself. He had, after all, drained that pretty young mage and his mind was sharper than it had ever been since then. That must be it, he thought as he lead the way to the slumbering, tiny town.

That must be it...

~***~

Cha'kaar was awoken with a small jolt by the figure of Ryan standing over him.

"I can't sleep..." The bat had the look of a child about him, the way he held himself, the way he spoke, every movement seemed to speak of how adorable he was. And was it his mind playing tricks, or was he holding his trousers up by the groin to stop them slipping? The wolf blinked sleep from his eyes and grumbled, trying not to wake Darrius.

"Why can't you sleep, child?"

"I keep hearing noises outside..." The sweet whine of his voice, as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. He sat up in bed, the vulpine shifting into a more comfortable position beside him. It took a few moments for him to shift a few mental cogs into position to ask his next question.

"...How old are you? Honestly, to ask that a full grown man of three- thirty to escort you back to bed?"

Ryan shuffled his feet, the cotton material slipping a little as he did so, having forgotten to pull on a belt. "Well... I-it's the ears..." He grumbled. "I've never had t-to listen to everything so... intensely- I mean, I can't just turn them off..." The bat visibly blushed as Cha'kaar stood up naked to escort him downstairs.

"Look, Ryan, I know it's going to take some getting use to, but you can't keep interrupting my sleep everytime you hear an owl or a mutt outside..." Ryan shook his head, his ears flapping a little with each shake.

"No no! Nothing like that. It sounds more like... digging..."

"The moles then." Once again, the ears flapped as he shook his head.

"No! It was digging proper! The sound of dirt and stones against the metal of a shovel, I swear..." Cha'kaar gently pushed the bat through the door that led back to his pew.

"Goodnight, Ryan. And I wouldn't worry about it, no one in this town would dare think of graverobbing. But I'll check the graveyard tomorrow before I leave, if it'll make you feel a little better, okay?" The slightest of nods from the worried critter was all he needed as he closed the door and returned to his lovers side.

The poor child must be finding it really difficult to sleep what with his new bodys keen hearing, he thought as he clambered into bed and pressed himself against the lovely and toasty warm Darrius. What he said did bother Cha'kaar, if only a little. If someone was out there, which was unlikely, and they were digging up the graves, most likely they would go for the fresher ones, and none were fresher than the graves of his fallen assistants.

The mere thought of someone defiling their bodies and their places of rest sent a shiver through him that nearly woke up his vixen. After helping his lover drift a little further into sleep, did he ponder how many hours he'd slept in the last few days. Quite possibly enough to count it on one hand, and yet he felt completely awake, as though he'd broken through some kind of wall, dug deep and found another well of energy to keep himself going. Sooner or later he'd burn out, but right now his mind was flying high above the clouds of sleep, but with no destination in sight.

His mind trailed uselessly for a while before turning towards the Sundered that had nearly slaughtered Darrius. Most Sundered's that he'd met in his travels tended to absorb magic hurled at them, but it always left a mark of some description, some kind of wound. But Sirus had simply absorbed every ounce of magic hurled at him, latched on for more and drained Darrius dry, all to heal himself!

Cha'kaar rolled over onto his back as the vulpine used his arm as a pillow, the planks of the small living quarters roof proving to be most interesting at this point in time. The Sundered's he'd encountered had been creatures of stone, or wood, sometimes a mixture of both. Never had he met one that lived in such a complex body as that of a sentient being before... The magic that poured out of Sirus after his light snack of Darrius' energy was immense, as though his body was unable to store any kind of magic at all...

Various niggling tidbits of information rallied for attention within his sleep-starved brain, the most prevelent and annoying being the Mage's Barrier. Everyone with a gift for magic had what is known as the Mage's Barrier. A bit like an internal cup that filled slowly over time from contact with the natural surroundings, and the said cup tended to differ in size with some, but Sirus was hemmoraging his power all over, as if he was unable to store it away like any other magic user...

The obvious answer was Sirus' body had no form of Mage's Barrier, and sooner or later, he'd run out of power to keep his body alive and well. Unless he came back for Darrius... Cha'kaar pulled the young man ever closer to himself, knowing he'd never give that demented ferret such a chance, not again.

Once again, another thought crept slowly into his mind, like a string of darkness in the light, and began to poison his mind.

The Sundered are intelligent, and they could use the recently dead as golems to do their tasks. And Sirus swore revenge upon him in any way possible. Surely... even if he did, they'd been gone for months, none of them would be viable or useable. Except...

The wolf bolted out of bed and down the stairs, leaving Darrius to his now disturbed slumber. His footfalls echoed around the building as his mind raced. As soon as the pieces began to fall, it all started to make sense! That noise that Ryan had heard wasn't moles, it was the sound he assumed it was, the sound of a shovel against dirt! The bodies could still be used as hosts due to the amulets buried with them that prevented them from rotting away, which meant that if Sirus couldn't hurt Darrius to get at the alchemist, he'd hurt him the only other way he'd know if he saw him saying the rites, by defiling the graves of his former assistants...

~***~

The journey to the town took longer than expected, due to Sirus trying to find a route that wouldn't make it too difficult to move the bodies. The less time they spent in the town, the better. Soon enough, they'd found a fairly decent route to transport their intended cargo and made for the graveyard, not wishing to waste anymore time.

"The graves are over there, master." Sirus' finger wavered a little as two emotions inside him battled for control. One was a fear of being caught by that loinclothed mage and recieving a more fatal blow from one of those bolt things. Whatever they were, they hurt right to the very core of his being, the pearl in his heart. His fingers crossed over his bare chest, shifting the fur enough to catch the faintest glimpse of a blueish glow before the thin fur fell back over the skin. The second was a furious rage at being so close to the people who defeated him, and not being allowed to attack them when they were at their most vunerable; asleep and with their guards down.

The conflicting emotions seemed to be in perfect balance, gifting Sirus with a quick mind and leaving him eager to follow his masters orders and wishes so he may be rid of this place, and the conflict within him would die down.

The Old One, as his master sometimes call himself, was busy studying the graves, commiting the names to memory. As his master memorized the graves, Sirus noticed a small shed with a few grave digging shovels left propped up against the wall. He grabbed two and returned just as his master had finished, and then offered the Old One a shovel.

He gripped the shovel in his thin fingers for a moment, before spinning the shovel and caught Sirus a blow to the side of the muzzle and dropped him to the ground, the spare tool landing in his lap as he sat up, rubbing his jaw.

"If you would believe me so weak as to need such a thing, you under-estimate your creator. Were it not for your find, I'd have ripped you out of that frame and drained you long ago." His voice was a low growl of anger, filled with bile and hate. "Stand up. You can dig out the last grave." His finger jerked to the gravestone marked Sierra Arrain.

Sirus popped his jaw back into place and hastily stood, the shovel biting deep into the damp soil as he worked furiously, the damp sods piling up at the side of the grave as the time pressed on.

~***~

Cha'kaar burst out of the side door, stumbling over his feet as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Blearily, he made his way over to the graveyard, his eyes taking time to become accustomed.

He had no idea of what he'd find. Maybe the graves were intact, or maybe he'd find graverobbers and show them the error of their ways by force-feeding them their shovels.

However he'd try to calm his mind with images of them being safe and undisturbed, several other images would lurch in front of his minds eye, of their graves empty, or their bodies defiled for some backyard necomancer's sick study of the darker arts.

As he stumbled and tripped over various sunkern headstones towards the resting place of his former assistants, his stomach lurched. Their was a deeper darkness at the foot of the gravestones, and his worst fears were made real. All four graves were empty.

An inhuman scream pierced the air, carrying through the trees, just like last time, but so much closer. Fear gripped at his very soul and clawed away at his mind. Sirus had taken them all, the waves of nausia washed over him, made him sick to his stomach as he began to experience what he did the night Sirus died, but so much worse. The people he swore to protect, that he failed, were being defiled and tortured, all at the whim of that crazed bastard of a ferret!

Anger cut through the nausia, giving him the strength to stand as the screams intensified. Every one of them was recognisable; they were his students, and they were in pain...