FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

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This story is licensed under the Creative Commons

Attribution Noncommercial Share Alike 3.0 License

© 2008 by Noisy Bob All Rights Reserved

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NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: The world this story is set in is the one of Onyx Tao's excellent story series Cold Blood. I would like to take this opportunity to thank Tao and everyone who has left comments on the series so far, cheers folks; there's a whole lot more on the way!

+++!Warning!+++

Okay folks, check your cute and fuzzies at the door because there is none here.

Tathal woke with a gasp, sitting bolt-upright on the bed of furs and shivering, more from shock than cold. He glanced hastily around the room, walls of natural stone with bunches of dripping candles set in small alcoves all around. His eyes settled on the lone visible piece of furniature - a tall wood-framed paper screen behind which he could see the sihouette of a minotaur reclining in an armchair. The shadow on the screen shifted and he heard the sound of a book snapping closed and a rattle of steel as Mallear emerged from behind the screen, buckling the straps that held his mask in place.

"Awake at last, is there any residual pain?" the minotaur said in clipped tones.

Tathal just stared at him open-mouthed for a moment, too confused to answer.

"Well? Answer, slave, or i'll make sure there's more than residual discomfort." Mallear said, beginning to sound angered.

Tathal shook himself awake and felt his limbs, grimly remembering the burning agony of snapped tendons and shredded muscle, now miraculously almost gone.

"Um, it aches a bit, I suppose."

Mallear flicked a finger in his direction and he felt a sharp jolt like an open-handed slap to the side of his head and yelped in suprise.

"Remember the honorific." commanded Mallear.

"Master! Sorry, sorry...master." Tathal cried, rubbing the side of his head.

Mallear seemed content and reached behind the screen, pulling out a tangle of belts and straps, looking from a distance like a bundle of horses bridles, which he threw to Tathal.

"Put it on." he commanded, Tathal lifted the tangled mess and found that it was a full-body harness of sorts, roughly torso-shaped and made from shiny black leather set with studs and buckles.

"What's it for?" he said warily "-Master." he hastily added.

"Must I correct you again? Stop questioning my orders, the answers will become clear soon enough, now do as you are commanded." said Mallear testily.

Tathal gulped at the prospect of Mallears magical "correction" and hastily donned the harness, finding himself naked besides for a loincloth beneath the fur blanket. The harness was a complicated affair with a metal ring over his heart connected to a leather 'Y' with straps branching off to hug his torso. There were also side straps connected to metal-studded belts that fastened around his upper thighs, bicepts and - gallingly - neck. It was confining but not unduly uncomfortable and seemed to have a strange static charge to it that made his skin tingle.

When he was done fastening all the belts in place Mallear made an approving rumble "And I shall now tell you what it's purpose is - it's a somatic limiter harness, I shall have need of you to use Furore' again for the purpose of my experiments, the harness will keep the gift you carry from activating to a level that will damage your body, a stopgap measure. As I modify your body to cope I will slowly reduce the degree to which it limits the gift." he said, impassively.

"Can...can I ask what happened last night, Master?" said Tathal, understanding about every other word of Mallears diatribe but feeling that it had something to do with whatever it was that had happened to him.

Mallears head tilted to one side and Tathal thought he could detect a slight amused noise from behind the emotionally blank steel mask.

"Tell me, are you aware of the legends of Calumnor? Perhaps Maddog or Crimthann?"

The names brought memories rushing back to Tathal, memories of childhood, sitting on his grandfathers knee at night in a fire-warmed roundhouse back in Celtia, so far away. His grandfather had told him stories about those names, those men. One thing in particular always stood out;

"The Riastradh!?" he gasped "The warping-fury? But that's just a myth..."

"I had though so too at the time, but when I learned that the Creators had hidden their gifts in humans it all started to come together." said Mallear, excitement building in his voice with a spine-tingling edge of madness running through it "Why did so many Celti tribes have the same legend? A warrior is struck down in battle and terribly wounded, in the midst of it he is suddenly gripped with a rage within which he couldn't tell friend from foe, his muscles bulging, his teeth gnashing, his hair standing on end-"

"-like a crown of spears." said Tathal, finishing Mallears sentance, he remembered the line. Rather than punishing him for speaking out of turn Mallear laughed exultantly.

"Exactly! And then, as the legend goes, he destroys the entire enemy army and spends months recovering, sometimes it even mentions his body-heat becoming so great that his fellow tribesmen have to throw buckets of water on him." he cawed.

"So...I have the Riastradh, Master?"

"Furore' is what it's called acording to the codex, and if I am correct then a number of your people possess it, it just doesn't manifest naturally, you are meant to be containers for it, not its weilders. A few may have become active after suffering enough greivous injuries to warp their somatic pathways, but even then it would be incredibly rare."

"But...how, Master? It's not possible..." Tathal whispered, hardly able to believe it.

Mallear seemed slightly less excited at the prospect of answering that "I have conjectures and hypotheses, as far as I can tell it causes your body to expend its stored energy in a very short period of time, the rage is a side-effect of the elevated metabolism." Mallear stared at the wall for a moment "Possibly related to Tempus in some fashion...Interesting."

He turned back to Tathal, reasserting his usual cold demeanour "You need to know how Furore' works but are likely too dull and ignorant to properly understand." Tathal scowled at that but held his tongue "Suffice to say that our bodies are mechanisms by which energy can be put to use, Furore' allows you to make more efficient use of this energy, I will elaborate further at a later date, now follow."

Mallear strode out the cave, sharply beconing Tathal to follow. Tathal scrabbled off the pile of furs and hustled to keep up with Mallear, the cold, damp rock of the floor bit his bare feet and he wondered idly where his sandals had gone but didn't want to risk drawing his captors ire by asking what would surely be considered superfluous questions. The caves were exactly as he remembered them but for some reason the sounds of the wolven no longer frightened him, as his terror of Mallear rose his terror of the wolven diminished, ever since last night he felt powerful. It was like there was a smouldering ember in his chest that he could fan at any time and if he did he could grind any wolven into mince, tear their arms off as easily as plucking the wings from a fly and beat them to death with the stumps, anything.

While he was thinking this Mallear looked back over his shoulder "While your thoughts are positively delicious in their violence, don't get any ideas, I unlocked your gift and I can deny you the use of it at any time." he said, seemingly reading Tathals mind "And the wolven serve me, as long as you do the same they are not your enemies. But remember; it is usefull for you to be alive for my purposes but not essential, I can learn all I need from your testicles floating in a jar, things will merely be expedited by your being intact, relatively speaking." Even with the mask Tathal knew Mallear was smirking.

From side passages misshapen figures went about some mysterious business, some of them stopped and grovelled on the floor as Mallear passed by, their faces were shrouded by ragged hoods but on one occasion Tathal saw the flash of eyes like those of a cat, mirrorlike, reflecting the torchlight, or some other mark of their otherness, he did a doubletake when he thought he saw a rat-like tail disappear beneath a sackcloth robe. More creatures like First, he supposed, once-humans that had been twisted by Mallears magic. Was the emotion he saw reflected in those eyes pity? Weary resignation that here was another who was going to join their ranks? No, Mallear had said he wouldn't end up like First, but then how far could he trust the word of a minotaur, never mind an apparently insane one?

The chamber they eventually emerged into was clearly a torture chamber of sorts, irons and implements of torment filled every surface and for a moment he braced in fear, thinking that Mallear had brought him here to better punish him for some infraction. But then he saw another figure in the room chained to an elaborate frame of steel bars with inch-thick manacles, another minotaur. He was shorter than Mallear by a good two handspans but built like a statue of the perfect warrior, his black pelt slicked with sweat, the captive Minotaur tried to bellow something at Mallear but his cries were stopped by a thick braided-leather bit in his mouth, chained about his head. He was also - Tathal noticed absently - completely naked, his impressive length hanging over balls the size of Tathals fists. It was really the last thing on his mind, tathal had always been amazed by how prudish the Imperials were with regards to their bodies, in his tribe half the men would go into battle wearing nothing but a few spirals of war-paint and a calculating expression.

A wolven, one of the largest of it's kind Tathal had ever seen, sidled up to Mallear. "He wasss mosst difficult to captuuure," it said with a breathy hiss "Very little fear or ssservile instinct to latch onto, a ssslipery mind..."

"Even with the augmentations I made to your Omegas?"

"We cannot work with what isss not there..." said the wolven, slimily, shrugging and holding it's hands wide "In many wayss we are craftsmen, but even the greatest sssculptor cannot work without the right stone."

Mallear huffed and approached the bound Minotaur who struggled against the chains, furiously rattling the frame. Mallear whipped out one hand and grabbed him by the chin, wrestling his head to eye level. For a moment they stared at eachother before Mallear spoke again.

"What of the others?"

"Killed, my Lord...Your echidnansss proved mosst ussefull..." replied the wolven.

Mallear huffed and appraised the struggling minotaur, after a while hespoke again "If you need fear to do your work, Kathar, then you shall have it."

Mallear made an overhanded gesture and the chain holding the captive minotaurs bit in place snapped open and he spat it out violently.

"Bastard! I never though i'd live to see a minotaur collaborate with the wolven!" he snarled vitriolically at Mallear, shaking and straining aginst the bindings until Tathal thought that even the ungainly manacles might be unable to hold him back.

In response, Mallear casually withdrew a branding iron from a braizier of glowing coals, it's head casting an agry red light, and drove it into the center of the massive warriors chest. Tathal stood in wide eyed amazement at the fact that the warrior didn't cry out but merely grit his teeth and endured the irons touch, though it was clear from the ripples that ran through his body that it pained him greatly.

"Ah, yes," whispered Mallear, slowly twisting the iron "Direct pain induction may be visceral and thrilling but there's nothing quite as satisfying as using ones hands, don't you agree?"

"Y-you honourless cur..." the warrior managed to get out past his tightly locked jaw, wincing from the pain "You will...hang for this, I-"

"You?" said Mallear gleefully, withdrawing the iron and plunging it back nto the coals before drawing near to the captive, pressing his chest against theirs and embracing them as if they were an old friend, further aggravating the vicious burn.

"You are a mid-ranking warlord holding a position of little appreciable significance in a clan of moderate influence, your mediocrity surely knows no bounds." he said, almost genially "Your kind are all same, ambitionless fleshwastes hiding your inadequecies behind a paper-thin shield of 'honour' while greater men dictate your life, you make me sick!"

He pushed away from the captive warrior who looked almost stunned by Mallears speech "At least the humans realise they are slaves, your kind remains willfully oblivious." he said, contemptuously glaring down at the chained minotaur "But perhaps that can be rectified..."

The impassive mask tilted to the wolven "An hours work, no more, then you shall have all you need." he said, the Wolven making a short bow.

"Your skillsss are truly worthy, My Lord..." came the Wolvens greasy reply.

Another figure entered the chamber from behind Tathal, so quietly that he hadn't heard them until they were within a foot of him, which startled Tathal who took a sudden backstep away. The figure was...human, stick-thin, almost emaciated, his coathanger body swathed in folds of some shimmery black cloth Thathal didn't recognise, contrasting with his silver-white hair which hung down as straight as a ruler. He smirked at Tathals reaction as he walked past with a strange hunched posture, not misshapen like First had been but sort of stalking.

"You called, Master?" He said, adressing Mallear and bowing low. As he did Tathal noticed that his hands were Tattooed with some abstract design in black ink resembling tongues of flame...or possibly tentacles.

"Silk, any further news from the sleepers?" inquired Mallear.

"None of note, Master. The network has been quiet of late." came the reply in a voice that put Tathal in mind of scuttling insects and cobwebs brushing along bare skin. As he spoke something moved between him and Mallear, sort of like a heat-distortion but also...not, somehow. Mallear was silent for a moment before turning back to the captive.

"Go to my chambers, we will discuss this further." he said over his shoulder, adding as an afterthought "And have a select group of echidnans on standby, ones whos gifts would be suited to assassination."

"I have sleepers within the ambassadors household, Master. I could activate them and murder both of them in their beds." said Silk, wryly.

"No, the thrice-accursed witch hunter is a presenient, suprise is not on our side, we must take more direct measures."

"As you command, Master." said Silk, bowing low and dissappearing into the shadows.

"What's all this about!" cried the chained minotaur, snapping himself back.

Mallear snarled and backhanded him in the jaw with a clenched fist, sending droplets of blood skittering accross the floor "What this is about is your fool mate and that old vulture of a mage probing into affairs they should leave well alone." he said, angrily, before addressing the large wolven "An issue caused by the incompetence of your soldiers, Kathar! Attacking the scholar on the road? On the ROAD!? What in all the machinations of the creators were they they thinking? This stands the chance of destroying the whole endeavour, an endeavour I have devoted millenia to, just as I am on the brink of success!" as he spoke, Mallear seemed to become more and more menacing, Tathal could feel his pulse quicken and swore that the shadows of the room actually got deeper and longer. The wolven, Kathar, backed away a pace, his ears flat against his head and looked up at Mallear pleadingly "Well!? What excuse do you have!?"

"My...Lord, I gave them full instructionsss to kill him at the ruinsss, out of sssight." the Wolven replied, placatingly "The fault liesss not with I but with alpha Sanjev, they are too far away for me to command them through the concordance..."

"Then Sanjev shall pay dearly, now I have to go through with the irritation of killing the Lycaili ambassador and the witch-hunter." said Mallear, as he finished the sentance the captive minotaur suddenly looked up with a start and began straining against the restraints again.

"You dog! Your bastard hands will never touch Cassius!" he roared before Mallear winded him with a blow to the sternum, forcing him into a series of convulsive, wracking coughs that left him limp in the restraints. Only Tathal noticed the wolven seizing the opportunity to get out of Mallears presence and flee the cave.

"No, indeed not, such work is beneath me." said Mallear in a drole tone "Which reminds me..." he made a series of gestures with one hand and the cuffs holding the warrior in place snapped open of their own accord. Now free, the warrior slumped to his knees and held his bruised stomach, still coughing profusely.

"Wha' ar-?" he began before Mallear cut him off.

"There are still some traditions I see the wisdom of, a warrior taken as a battle-captive has the right to win his freedom by contest, I trust you will want to excercise it."

The warrior stopped coughing and looked up at Mallear, his muscles tensing for action "You're going to let me fight you?"

Mallear let out a single derisive bark of laughter "Hardly, I could crush a maggot like you with a thought. No, i'm not going to fight you," he said before tilting his head in Tathals direction and raising a finger to point at him "He is."

Now it was the captives time to laugh, and he did so long and loud, almost hysterical "A human!? You must have lost more of your mind than is clearly obvious if you think that I couldn't beat a human even on my worst of days, Witch!"

Waves of force emanated from Mallear, pushing the accoutrements of the room back against the walls so that they formed arena-spikes of sorts. In an instant Mallear dissapeared, reappearing outside the entranceway to the chamber as familliar iron bars blocked the only exit, Leaving Tathal alone with the massive warrior.

"Then fight for your freedom safe in the knowledge that you are assured victory." he said from the other side of the bars, Tathal couldn't quite make out what emotions were in his tone.

The warrior rose to his hooves, looking mostly reccovered and looked at Tathal almost sadly "I normally consider those who beat humans to be cowards of the first order but it seems I have no choice but to go through with this foolishness, I'll try not to kill you."

Tathal, shocked at the prospect of fighting the massive beast, held his hands up and began to reply "Hey, wait a min-" was all he got out before the warrior dissapeared from his field of vision only to reappear right in front of him, a black-furred fist mashing into his chest and throwing him accross the room to skid allong the floor. Tathal took in a brief intake of breath but it was all the time he had before the warrior appeared above him, one hoof raised to crush him. Tathal desperately rolled aside and the hoof came down on the hard stone of the floor, just grazing his back.

"I'm going to die" was all he could think, repeating it over and over like a mantra. What was Mallear thinking? He could no-more fight this monster than he could fight a lightning-storm. That one time on the battlefield where he had killed a minotaur was pure coincidence; the minotaur had been unexpecting retalliation and he had been in just the right position, thousands of soldiers had lain dead at Mog Ford - he had just been statistically lucky.

He rolled to his feet and looked around the room, scanning for the black minotaur, but his opponent was nowhere in sight. A sound from behind him caught his attention and he turned quickly just in time to see the warrior grab him by the hair and drive his knee into Tathals ribs. Tathal's eyes went wide as he croaked a silent cry, he had felt his ribs give way beneath the inhuman force of the blow and he instinctively suppressed a scream only because his first breath after the event had hurt so much.

The warrior lifted him off his feet with little apparent effort by a handfull of his hair and flung his body to the other side of the room before turning to the entranceway.

"Are you yet satisfied with this charade?" he roared at Mallear "Or do you not intend to keep up your end of the deal? Perhaps you would like to pit me against another foe; A newborn pup perhaps?"

"Oh, I fully intend to free you if victorious. Beware though, your 'pup' has just grown some fangs." he pointed behind the warrior at Tathal and the black minotaur turned and recoiled at what he saw.

The jolt that the broken ribs had given him had been enough, Tathal again felt the fury welling up in him - not an all-consuming conflageration this time but a dull glow. He looked down at his bare arms and saw that his skin had flushed red, the muscles beneath becoming as taught as wire. His breathing quickened along with his pulse, the war-drum rhythm of his heart beating in his ears, but the pain in his side was gone - all the pain was gone, subsumed by a living fire that eminated from his chest. His vision focused on his abuser to the exclusion of all else, the black minotaur who was standing with an incredulous look on his face as Tathal bolted at him with the speed of a hurled javelin. Just as Tathal was about to land a blow on his bovine face the warrior vanished again. Again, Tathal scanned the room, not out of avoiding attack this time but in a predatory manner. He was almost beyond thought but he knew that his survival rested on winning and, bizzarely, he had a chance.

A gust of wind heralded the Warriors next attack, blows that fell like hailstones, too fast and in quick succession to follow, coming at him from all angles. Tathal howled in frustration but noticed that the blows did him little harm, it was like his muscles had become so hard as to act almost like armour, forcing his foe to strike hard leather rather than yielding flesh.

Abruptly, the black minotaur became solid again, it was just for a moment but Tathal siezed the opportunity and with a guttural roar drove his clenched fist into the warriors stomach. He gasped and doubled over before vanishing again and reappearing on the other side of the chamber.

"That's a...fine trick." he said between gasps "I don't know what's going on...but it is not nearly enough to defeat me!"

Tathal saw the warrior advance on him in a series of flashes of the strange, unnatural speed the minotaurs possessed as he barrelled into him shoulder-first and delivering two swift punches to the head. The warrior was right, Tathal couldn't beat him, his brief spark of hope faded into nothingness. With Furore' he was about as strong as a minotaur and might just be able to take as much punishment but he just couldn't match that terrible speed. He was all too aware of how outclassed he was. In his frustraion he didn't even notice the brief pulse of magic from Mallear...nor that the tingling on his skin that had been there ever since he had donned the harness had lessened.

The black minotaur towered above him, raising his fists clenched together above his head for a sledgehammer strike that would crush Tathals skull. A surge of memory flashed past him, of the minotaur at Mog Ford, his warclub raised.

The speed of his attack suprised even Tathal as he swung an open hand into the minotaurs Throat and felt the telltale crumple of a crushed windpipe. As the warrior staggered back, clutching his neck, his expression was identical to the one at Mog Ford - this was something that didn't happen, in a matchup between a human and a minotaur the outcome was obvious, the minotaur clearly held all the cards.

Yet, there they were.

With purposeful strides Tathal cleared the gap between them and threw punch after punch into the minotaurs body, mashing muscle, bruising innards, fracturing bones. A swift kick to the back of the knee forced the minotaur to the ground and Tathal took hold of his horns to provide leverage as he kneed the struggling warrior in the face, coaxing a bovine moan of pain that was cut short when his knee was brought in again, and again...and again.

Berserker fury welled up in him, more intensely than he would have believed possible. The minotaur had become a totem, a symbol of his entire species, the race that had spawned an obscenity like Mallear. Tathal wanted to hurt this creature however he could, in every way he could - he flexed his arms, bulging like overstuffed cushions, and the minotaur wailed as he snapped off the horns, leaving jagged stumps in their place.

Tathal roared triumphantly, standing over the prostrate form of the minotaur who had lifted his hands to the space where his horns had been, shaking fingers hovering above the stumps, too terrified to feel the truth of what was there. Tathal threw the horns aside and roughly pushed the quivering minotaur over onto his back and pinned him to the ground, it would normally have been impossible given the minotaurs vastly greater weight but Tathal used his strength to full advantage and the minotaur was too badly beaten to resist much in any case. The blood in his mouth, the stench of sweat and the rising heat in his body had stirred something new in Tathal, a predatory hunger that cried out to be sated on the broken body of his foe.

He forced appart the minotaurs furred thighs and ripped off his loincloth, which had been straining to contain the throbbing member within. The broken minotaur vainly tried to fend him off with his one undislocated arm but he simply punched it in the shoulder and the arm went limp. Grunting and snarling with more bestial savagery than the wolven ever had, Tathal rammed his full length deep into the minotaurs asshole, forcing himself in until he was fully hilted. The minotaur wailed pitifully, a strange sound coming from a creature so powerful, as Tathal roughly ravaged his body, hate-fucking him into submission, pounding relentlessly into the minotaurs tortured innards. As a final act of spite Tathal gripped the stumps of the broken horns and used them as handles to force himself deeper as he climaxed, howling at the top of his lungs, announcing his victory.

Without warning the strength and the berserker rage that accompanied it faded from his body and he fell backward, exhausted, and collapsed on the floor. The screech of twisted iron heralded Mallears entrance, clapping his hands together slowly, out of sync with the clopping of his hooves.

"That was unexpected," he announced "An additional side effect, perhaps? Quite the show. Well, in any case, this little escapade seems to have had the desired effect."

As he spoke he moved to tower over the battered form of the warrior who wailed pitifully and curled up foetal, shaking in a mixture of shame and terror. Tathal, free now of the maddening effect of Furore', felt sick.

He had...he couldn't...gods, he did.

He had...violated another being, done the most abominable thing that could be done to another person. Was that what this new power meant? If he had been back in his village a...a rapist would have been lynched and strung up. What right did he still have to judge Mallear now?

Mallear knealt down to lift the head of the broken minotaur in one hand, staring into his pleading eyes for a moment before throwing him to the ground again.

"Pathetic." he spat, straightening up to his full height and staring into space "Kathar, good news. It seems that already you shall have more than enough fear to do your craft, redeem yourself." he said aloud, despite the wolven Kathar not being in the room. He turned his gaze onto Tathal and a creeping sensation overwhelmed him, heaving, he vomited the little that his stomach still contained onto the rocky floor.

"What the hell did you make me do, you bastard?" he said in a whisper, glaring at the masked minotaur though in truth most of his ire was directed within.

Mallear sighed and extended a hand, smashing Tathal into the wall with a blast of mage-force and holding him there for a few torturous seconds, grinding him into the wall "I shall be more forgiving than usual since you are no-doubt somewhat emotional from the use of your gift but really, there's no excuse for such insolence at this point, you have had ample opportunity to learn." he said, sounding almost bored "I did nothing but permit your gifts a little additional slack on their leash, the rest was all your doing, and admirably well done, I must say." he added, giving the shaking minotaur on the ground a kick for good measure, eliciting a pained whimper that made Tathal want to die.

The force receded and dropped Tathal to the floor, allowing him to slump against the wall. He found that he couldn't easily control his body, it was like he was trying to move it through puppet-strings and he flopped uselessly trying to get to his feet.

"Still enough leash to overextend you, it seems. I must begin your modifications immediately, I am greatly intrigued by the limits of this power." said Mallear, bending down to bundle Tathal up in his arms. Tathal felt his flesh crawl to be touched by the masked minotaur and recoiled involentarily against it but Mallear held him too tightly for him to struggle. Mallear extended one hand and the broken horns flew into it.

"These can be reattached once Kathar has done his work, they are such a pain to regrow."

A number of Mallears rag-swathed servants appeared in the entranceway as he went to leave and stood, heads bowed, awaiting his orders.

"Clean this mess up, and put that waste of hide back in shackles." he commanded, gesturing at the broken body of the black minotaur, who was lying quiet and still.

They nodded obediently and silently went about their tasks, dissapearing out of his line of sight as Mallear carried him through the winding corridors of bare stone. Through Mallears moss-coloured robe he could feel the movement of muscles that felt so hard as to have been carved from wood, taught as rope, it came as a sudden shock to him that only moments earlier he had possessed even greater strength than those muscles could provide. And what had he done with it? Monstrosity. He tried to tell himself that he wasn't in control of his actions, that he had been overtaken by Furore's effects, effects which he was ill-prepared to handle, and in any case; if all minotaurs were anything like Mallear then why should he feel guilt for any ammount of pain he inflicted on one? It didn't help. This felt worse than anything Mallear's magic had ever done to him, a gnawing guilt that tore through his guts like an arrow, despite himself he began to weep without realising it, crystaline tears of grief and shame rolling down his dust-caked cheeks.

The chamber he was eventually brought to was the cavernous laboratory from the night before, he absently noticed that the steel table still bore the marks of his having broken free of it, two corners twisted like the curling corners of a piece of parchment. Mallear set his limp body down in an armchair big enough to sleep in and turned away to root around in a regent cabinet before returning with a small wooden box and a lit candle in a holder. He set them down on a table beside the chair before he lifted Tathal up and sat down on the armchair himself, setting Tathal down in his lap and resting him against the crook of one arm.

"What are-?" Tathal said, dazily.

"Anchor points for my magic must be made before biotransmutation can begin in order to allow me to bypass the laws of resonance," he said, opening the box to reveal a set of shining needles and small jars "Did you understand any of that?"

"No." said Tathal, simply, adding "Master" as a prudent afterthought.

"Then be silent, lest I decide you would be more attractive without vocal chords." said Mallear, removing one silver-steel needle from the box and holding it in the candles flame, watching it slowly discolour.

"But you said I had to understand-"

"How your gifts work, not mine. Something which would be impossible in any case." said Mallear, removing the needle from the flame and examining it "Good. Brace, human, this will hurt." he said, Tathal had only a moment to think before the minotaur pinched one of his nipples between the fingers of his off-hand and swiftly drove the needle through the reddening nub of flesh. Tathal had barely let out a gasp before the needle was withdrawn and the bead of blood wiped away with a piece of muslin cloth and a small ring of silver placed in the perforation left by it. It had come as a shock but had not been particularly painful, or perhaps he had just become too inured to pain that he didn't notice.

Mallear peformed the same ritual with his other nipple, tossing aside the used needle and muslin for a fresh pair and Tathal bore it without protest, it was practically loving by comparison to Mallears usual attentions.

"One more to go." said Mallear after finishing the second nipple ring, the statement was not directed at Tathal but he felt the need to speak anyway.

"But I don't have any...anywhere else to put one." he said, confused.

"Oh?" replied Mallear, almost chuckling as he placed another clean needle into the candles flame. Tathal felt Mallears off hand rove down the side of his body where it had been holding him in place and slide lewdly along his thigh to grab hold of his manhood and pull back his foreskin in one fluid motion. A rush of ghastly realisation coursed through him and he fought vainly against Mallears grip, struggling desperately to get free.

"Don't be foolish!" hissed Mallear and a burst of something eminated from him that robbed Tathal of the little strength he still had, paralysing him even to the point of being unable to speak.

"Honestly, struggling would only exacerbate matters. This won't kill you, in fact you may grow to appreciate it." said Mallear as he removed the needle from the flame and held it up to the crystal lenses of his mask.

"Not bloody likely!" Tathal howled internally, beating against the walls of his own mind.

Finding the instrument satisfactory, Mallear took Tathals shaft in one hand and angled the needle at the urethra, pausing only for a second before driving it in-and-through the flesh. Unlike the first two Tathal truly felt this one, the sensitive flesh of his member picking up every cadence of the searingly-hot surface of the needle. His eyes went wide but he couldn't do what he really wanted to; bite Mallears neck out to stifle a cry. It seemed that Mallear held the burning needle there just a little longer than before, though whether that was really the case or just a figment of his imagination he couldn't tell.

His head swam, dizzy from shock, but just as it was starting to become unbearable the needle was withdrawn and a third silver ring put in it's place. Blinking away the tears welling up in his eyes Tathal looked in amazement that his body had actually responded positively to the needles touch, the silver ring standing up atop his erect phallus, shining in the eerie light of the cavern.

Mallear tossed the last needle into the pile and wiped away the slowly welling blood with another piece of muslin before doing something with his magic that banished the remaining dscomfort from Tathals body. He rose, Tathal still in his arms and deposited him onto the steel table.

"No restraints this time, I don't need to activate Furore' during the procedure." he explained, taking a few jars and vessels of brightly-coloured powders from a cabinet and setting them down on the edge of the table. Mallear did that strange minotaur dissapearing trick and reemerged beside the black tablet that dominated one side of the chamber. Just as the night before (Tathal assumed he had only been out for one night) he began to pace along its length, touching sigils as he went and making them glow with a pelucid green fire. Unlike before the sigils did not dim as he left them but remained alight, when he reached he other end of the tablet he had left a trail of softly glowing runes, placed seemingly at random, in his wake. Then Mallear did something new, he took a step back from the monolithic slab of rock and began gesturing at it like a conductor, the runes changing their positions, shifting and leaping into alignment until the entire slab was bisected by a single coherent line of illuminated glyphs.

"Magnificent." said Mallear, admiring the tablet "How much simpler the process is now, what once took months of research and calculation can be conducted in a matter of minutes."

Mallear blurred again and was suddenly standing over Tathal "I have yet to fully master the codex...I will master it in time, of course, nothing shall be denied me...but for now some of it's higher mysteries remain undiscovered." he said as he uncorked a few of the jars and began pouring minute quanitites of their contents onto the table around Tathal. He then extended a hand and the powders coalesced into a pattern, strangely reminiscent of the glyphs on the tablet.

Mallear made a satisfied rumble and leaned down until his steel muzzle was almost touching Tathals face "Right now you are a nameless nothing, worthless." he whispered "But when you awaken, my pet...ah, what a wonder you shall be. Something new, neverbefore seen, beautiful. I shall make you a monster...and you shall love me for it." his tone was soft, perhaps even sultry, and made Tathal recoil internally.

With that, Mallear again straightened to his full formidable bearing and held out both hands over Tathals paralysed body and began intoning some mystic phrase, the glyph-line on the tablet behind him wavering and dancing as he spoke. The air of the room suddenly became infused with an acrid quality that burned Tathals nostrils as an itching, tickling sensation built like a thousand insects crawling long his skin, were he able to move he would have cringed from it. The senation was strongest on those places he had been pierced, like they were lodestones drawing Mallears foul magic into his body, and despite the wierdness of it it was oddly and perversely pleasurable. Tathals mind fogged, though whether it was from overstimulation, fatigue, some effect of the spell or a combination of the three he couldn't tell. This wasn't the sudden all-encompassing darkness of the sleeping spell Mallear had placed on him before but a slow descent, a gradual shadowing of the vision, of hearing sounds as though underwater. The last thing he heard, just as it was about to overtake his will to stay awake, was crystal-clear, however; it was the sharp smack of hands being clapped together followed by the toneless bellow of Mallears voice issuing a proclamation...

"I name thee Ravager."