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 (don't throw a fit, it's all open license and Tao's a great guy!) and is set into the timeline at around about chapter 3 -

Green Fields - but is to be considered non-canonical, being purely a fanwork. If you enjoyed this then go check out Cold Blood which as of the writing of this is up to it's 13th chapter, I guarantee you won't be disappointed.

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Darkness, warmth, the faint odor of melted wax, Tathal swam insensate besides those three stimuli, he was blind, he was deaf, he could move but knew not into what he moved so he just resolved to lay still. It was comfortable, a restful place far from the nightmare the past few days had become, he could almost bring himself to hope that maybe it...just...hadn't...happened...

Brightness intruded into his slumber, shattering that hope as his blurry vision focused on the familiar profile of the minotaur Mallear, enthroned upon an armchair as he looked down on him. There was something out of place with the image and Tathal couldn't quite place it until his vision adjusted fully and the source of his perturbation became clear, Mallears mask was gone, the eyes that bored imperiously into him were not hidden behind lenses of crystal and the false perfection of the face the mask had borne was replaced with an all-too-real perfection. "Such kind eyes..." he thought in a post-waking stupor before the absurdity of that thought poked itself pugnaciously into his forebrain.

"What happened?" he said before his breath caught in his throat, suddenly remembering the consequences for speaking out of turn.

Mallear rested his head on one hand and chuckled to himself "Fear not, my pet, you may speak as you choose for now." he said, as though he could read Tathals mind.

"I can read your mind, not clearly but well enough to catch the summation of your thoughts." he said, Tathal recoiled at that, scrabbling away from the minotaur mage on the fur bed, beneath the fur cover he was naked besides the harness of leather belts.

"Stop it!" he yelled in a response that was almost animal, too horrified by the admission of mental invasion to think of anything else to say.

"May as well now," said Mallear resignedly "unlike the wolven I never much appreciated unadulterated fear, I always preferred a little more nuance. Still, you have wonderful dreams, very restful."

The hazel-furred minotaur picked up a wine glass on the floor next to him and took a sip before offering it to Tathal.

"Here, drink." he said, dangling the glass in front of him, Tathal couldn't quite make out what was in the glass in the low light but took it anyway, his mouth and throat felt like parchment.

Reason made him stop before the rim of the glass touched his lips "What is it?" he asked, just remembering to add "Master" at the last moment.

"You may refer to me by my name for now if you choose, or by no appellative at all, until I say otherwise. And it's..." he paused for a moment to pick up a tapered bottle of frosted white glass on his other side and peruse the label "...Hrothguard '78 peach schnapps, apparently, I can't say I pay much attention these days." Mallear swished the bottle back and forth a few times, revealing that it was almost empty "But I suppose the real meat of your question is 'Is it poison or a potion or the regent for some ghastly spell', am I correct? Well no, it is merely a suitable vector for drunkenness." with that the Minotaur settled back in his chair and laughed ebulliently.

"Gods, he's drunk blind." thought Tathal, skewed by the weirdness of the thought that the furious, wrathful, sadistic monster that had imprisoned him was a happy drunk!

He stared into the glass of dark orange liquid and raised it to his lips, sweetness assailed his taste buds along with a pleasing taste of fruit that almost drowned out the powerful richness of the alcohol that seared his throat even as it soothed and warmed him. He'd never tasted anything even remotely as fine, even the best honey-mead was like a pale shadow compared to the rich, sweet drink, he was hard-pressed to believe that there was no magic at all at work in it.

"What happened, you ask?" said Mallear "Your first session of augmentation was a complete success, thanks to the Codex, I anticipate that your body should be capable of withstanding fifteen percent more strain from the use of Furore' than before, a quite remarkable increase, usually an Echidnans aptitude only increases by around five percent per modification session."

"What's an Echidnan?" inquired Tathal, setting the empty glass down.

"You are, First is..." Mallear said, groping for the right turn of phrase "An Echidnan is a modified human, specifically one which carries a creator-gift. Puzzle pieces, all of you."

"I don't feel any different."

Mallear smiled faintly and did something that suddenly made the candles flare with a bright white phosphorescence and while Tathal had to wince from the sudden brightness he was afforded clearer sight, what he saw shook him to the core. The hair on the back of his arms was gone, replaced by a speckling of fine green scales like fish-mail, his fingernails were thick, pointed as a wolvens claws and the joints of his hands had become more pronounced, the fingers slightly longer and a spider-web of black veins showed clear against his pale skin, in all his arms bore only a passing resemblance to those of a human. He stared at his shaking hands for some time, wondering what atavistic monster they belonged to.

"Wh-what...h-ha-have youuu-?" he stuttered, somewhere between shock and rage.

Mallear slid off the chair and kneeled on the fur bed next to Tathal, gripping the shaking once-human by the shoulders until Tathal looked into his eyes "I have made you one step closer to perfection, my pet," he whispered excitedly "don't you see? As a human you could never be anything but a slave without denying your basic nature, but I have made you something more, something the world cannot ignore!" he said.

Mallear caressed Tathals cheek thoughtfully with one hand "I have undone the Creators work, and in doing so I shall surpass them." he said to himself, staring into space "This world - all our worlds - you don't see, it's broken, all of it. A piece of clockwork where the parts destroy each other because their gears just don't mesh. It has to change, if the absentee-parents that wrought this mess won't put right their work then I shall. When I have the right tools...yes, then all shall be right, my pet." said the mage, rambling drunkenly.

Tathal grit his teeth and drew back to punch Mallear square in the face, rage at the violation of his body and it's

incoherent justification burning bright, even in his inebriated state Mallear easily caught his wrist - then the other when that too was brought round - and pinned Tathal against the furs with the weight of his body.

"Let go of me you bastard!" he cried, struggling vainly against the powerful form of the Mage who held him prone.

"Don't you see!?" roared Mallear, so loudly that it shocked Tathal into stillness "I can make you more than you could ever be on your own, and in return the lore held within your body will make ME all the stronger, you can have the privilege of standing at my right hand in a new golden age!"

"Gods of hell, I don't even understand what any of this is about!" Cried Tathal, desperately.

Mallears weight lessened slightly and he shook his head "Yes, yes...of course you don't. Do you remember the story I told you about the ancient race of great power?"

"Aye...what of it?" said Tathal, warily.

"I suppose you've probably guessed that the 'children' in the story were the humans, the minotaurs, the wolven and the others. And that the 'treasures' were creator gifts like your Furore'. The creators, the ones your people refer to as the wych, at least I think the legend refers to them, left behind very little of themselves but what they did leave was clues, little pieces of a greater puzzle."

Tathal was about to speak out in exasperation but a furred finger stopped his lips.

"Every creator-gift is a tiny fragment of what their power was capable of, if I can piece them all together and fill in the gaps I can possess the power of the Creators for myself," said Mallear, his tone now somber and serious if not sober "Life, death, matter, energy, reality itself...all will become clay in my hands, to build a better world, one that works."

Mallear caught the look of perplexity and fear on Tathals face and sighed, removing the rest of his weight and sitting back on his haunches, he rubbed one temple and laughed "I really should try to explain these things when sober, but then you'd probably annoy me so much I'd just end up flinging you around the room anyway." with that he threw his head back and went into paroxysms of hysterical laughter that eventually faded away "I just want you to know that there's a good reason behind all this, that it will all benefit the greater good in the end." he said, wiping tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better about this?" shot Tathal, holding up his arms.

Mallear winced for a second, as though in pain "It...it's all I can offer. And you really are better than before, stronger, healthier, but I know it must be a...difficult adjustment." his former effervescence gone, the mage held his massive head in both hands and shook slightly, almost imperceptibly "First...my poor First, the things I did to him to understand the gift buried in him...unspeakable things. My sole companion through all this time and I..." the minotaur mage took a deep shuddering breath, as one does when trying to hold back tears "...he hates what I've made him, you know...loathes the flesh he lives in, but he still loves me, faithful little fool." the last part was said fondly, not with the biting edge of barely-contained hatred Mallear usually said fool.

After a second Mallear seemed to regain his lost composure "But it's all for the greater good. I'll make up for it all when I have the power of the creators, I'll set the worlds straight, I have to. Any suffering is justified to make that future a reality." said the mage, his voice carrying an edge of conviction harder than iron.

A long silence followed in which Mallears eyes burrowed into Tathals own, there was burning intensity within those eyes, Tathal didn't quite understand what this 'greater good' was but from that gaze he knew that the mage would put the whole universe to the sword if it meant attaining it, it was the kind of conviction that you occasionally saw in the eyes of the battle-mad; there was nothing in them to argue with, nothing to reason with, come hell or high water Mallear would have what he sought, and woe betide anyone who stood in his way. It shook Tathal even more than the mortification of his flesh.

There was something else in those eyes too; Age, primordial ancientness emanated from them, pressing down on Tathals soul like the stones of a tomb.

"So what do you want me to say?" he said at last, icily "That I feel just fine about being imprisoned by you and being changed into...whatever it is I've become? Because I'm not, if I had the power I'd kill you here."

Mallear shook his head "You will come to understand in time, for now just trust that your suffering is not in vain."

"Trust? Trust?" spat Tathal, incredulously "You think I trust a single thing you say!"

"You trusted me that the drink wasn't poison didn't you? Could have gone badly..."

"That was different." said Tathal, faltering slightly.

"Only in your own mind, after being exposed to so much of my magic it's unlikely you'd be able to tell truth from falsehood if it came from my lips anyway, only your fear and hatred is masking how powerful my influence has likely become." said Mallear, wearily, before pausing for a moment in thought.

"But perhaps there are ways around that." he said at last in some inscrutable tone that set the hairs on Tathals neck on end.

"What do you mean?" he said, warily.

"Alas, at this point words fail, only experience will provide adequate explanation."

With that the minotaur reached out with one hand and placed a single finger in the center of his brow, the gesture being so unexpected that Tathal didn't react until the digit was already upon him. He had only a moment to gasp as his vision closed in to a pinpoint and then vanished, he floundered, his sense of direction shattered, adrift in an endless black abyss.

Then he was alone in the cave tunnel, walking across the bare stone and listening to the drip of condensation water and breathing in the mildew-scent, he paused before the circle of bars inset into the stone and wrenched hem open with a wave of his hand, it was a simple spell and one he had practiced often.

But...Tathal was no mage, he knew no spells...

He bent slightly to pass through the arch of bars and a sense of excited anticipation passed through him as he gazed down on...himself, Tathal, bound and chained to the rocky cavern wall, glancing up at him with dread and anger, helpless but refusing to admit it. The sight was amusing, it looked like this one had some spirit.

What? This one? It was him! Tathal felt strange, it was like he had two sets of emotions, his own and someone else's, both playing through him at the same time.

Mallear, he realised suddenly, he was seeing, feeling, what Mallear did on that first night the wolven had brought him to this place. A question leaped to the forefront of his mind; why would Mallear want to show him this?

"Well, what have they brought me now?" he said, vocalising his - Mallears - curiosity as he held out his hand to cast the spell that would tell him the humans - his - genealogy, and the possibility of them carrying a unique creator-gift.

"Don't you fucking touch me, whoreson!" the human - he - cried, jerking away from his - Mallears - touch, the part of him that was Mallear laughed at the display, the part that was Tathal cringed with embarrassment. The whole scene played out before him from Mallears perspective, followed by every encounter he'd ever had with the minotaur mage, he felt as amusement gradually faded into frustration and then annoyance as the human, which he had to keep reminding himself was him, continued to defy Mallear (which he had to keep reminding himself wasn't him), kept searching for some way to fight him, continually failed to see how ridiculous he looked pretending to be a warrior. That's all he was, playing at being a warrior, as if a human ever truly could be one, the thought was ridiculous. The creators had other intentions for humans and all they could ever hope to do is pretend to be anything other than what they truly were; slaves.

Tathal shriveled up from shame, in his mind he was proudly defending his Enech by maintaining a warriors hatred for his captor but to Mallear...he just looked silly, a petulant child that just needed to be disciplined so he could be made to see that it was all for his own good. The shame was crippling, he wanted to die just to escape the image of how ridiculous he looked through Mallears eyes. But there was something else, something from Mallears side, a vision of what he could be, of what Mallear wanted to make him.

He stood at his masters side surveying the aftermath of a battlefield where the mages foes lay dead or dying, his muscles rippled with the barely contained power of Furore', ready at any moment to strike down any foe who dared to oppose his master, now he was a true warrior, no longer contained in the frail human form of his birth but a mighty war-machine of flesh, bone, blood and scale. His strength was beyond peer, the earth shook at his war-cry and no enemy, man, wolven or minotaur could oppose him, he was brother to dragons, servant of one. The thought of a human warrior was laughable, but he was far from human.

A wave of gratitude passed through him, Mallear wanted to help him, help him surpass his own limits. He didn't have to be human any more, he could be more than just a slave, he could be a demigod...

Then he was back in the candlelight of Mallears chamber, the minotaurs finger still pressed against his brow and his eyes wide from the shock, a single tear marred one cheek but he wasn't quite sure why it was there.

"Well?" said Mallear, withdrawing the finger from the humans brow "What do you have to say now?"

"I...I'm sorry, I didn't..." stuttered Tathal "I mean...thank you."

"Hmmm, so you understand now, it seems." said Mallear as he lowered himself onto one elbow with a sigh "Good, so let's have no more silliness over your enhancements."

"So, that vision...you're really going to make me-?"

"A beautiful monster. The perfect instrument of my will, does the idea please you?" said Mallear.

"Yes, Master. Thank you." said Tathal, not sure what else to say.

"Oh? Well if you really want to thank me there are much more satisfying ways of doing so." said the minotaur with a hint of wry humor, placing his free hand under Tathals chin and tilting his head up "You are certainly attractive enough, especially with such beautiful augmentations, my finest work I think."

Tathal was confused for a moment until recognition of the tone on the edge of the minotaurs voice sank in, it was lust, and of a very specific kind.

"What? But I'm a man-" he protested weakly.

"I've been called mad often enough, but imperceptive? I know most human males look a little less than fully masculine by minotaur standards but one tends to pick up the signs." replied Mallear amusedly, prodding Tathal in the chest to illustrate his lack of breasts before slowly trailing a slow, snaking course down his chest toward his groin.

"W-well, what I mean is-" started Tathal, his eyes glued to the furry finger deftly trailing down his torso, strangely arousing.

"I know precisely what you mean, it's not an issue for me and it won't be for you for much longer, there are still psychological barriers that need to be broken down, this is one of the easiest ways of accomplishing that. Plus there are other benefits not to be ignored, hmmm?" said Mallear, his finger pausing just above Tathals groin before running it along his half-hard shaft and looping the tip of his finger through the silver ring at it's tip.

"But-" gasped Tathal, caught unawares by the sudden pulse of pleasure the minotaurs gesture brought and oddly reluctant to resist it.

"Enough talk." said Mallear with an air of finality, undoing the knots on the front of his robe and allowing it to fall open, beneath the voluminous folds the full extent of his impressive musculature was revealed, Tathal dimly noticed the massive scar that marred his hide, running from it's lowest point just above his pelvis on the left of his torso all the way to it's thickest part at his right pectoral and up his neck, stopping abruptly just below the jawline.

There was a blur of minotaur speed and in an instant Mallear was towering above the quivering human and a hungry growl escaped the depths of his chest as he ran his eyes over Tathals body like a meal laid out before him, the fingers of one massive furred hand lightly caressed the full length of his torso, tracing the outlines of leather and skin and settling at Tathals hip for purchase, his other hand taking it's place on the opposite side.

"Nervous, pet? I take it this is a new experience for you?" Mallear whispered in Tathals ear.

Tathal swallowed hard "Yes...for both." he said in a small voice.

Mallear laughed quietly at his answer "It will be easier for you if you relax, probably a little difficult under the circumstances but that's alright..." he said as he maneuvered Tathal into position "...I don't mind if you scream."

The suddenness of penetration made Tathal gasp and bite his lip, straining to hold back a cry as the minotaurs massive member seemed to threaten at any moment to tear him in two. He balled his fists up in the fur blankets beneath him to prevent his fingernails from biting his palms while Mallear forced himself deeper into his innards, he could feel his guts stretching to accommodate the minotaurs ample length, eventually coming to a halt when it hit something inside him that sent waves of surprising pleasure coursing through him, drowning out the pain with it's intensity.

He whimpered pathetically as the minotaur took him, at one point he even tried to summon up Furore' to escape the savage embrace but when he reached for it it retreated from him like a spider scuttling out of reach. It wasn't until he finally stopped resisting that he realised that there was more than just aching pain in the experience, Mallear was not being deliberately rough with him and though he was slightly crushed beneath the minotaur his massive weight could easily have suffocated him were it otherwise.

In the murky recesses of his mind Tathal was mortally terrified that he might actually start to enjoy it, to be fucked like a tavern wench and used for this creatures pleasure. The thrill that thought brought sent pangs of guilt through his heart until the image he saw in the mage-vision surfaced again. Mallear was giving him so much, he realised, the chance to be powerful in a way he had never dreamed, to begrudge such a little thing in return seemed almost petty, and it wasn't that bad really...

Mallear had settled into a slow rhythm and Tathal cracked one eye to see the hazel minotaur smile down at him with satisfaction and toss his head as Tathal consciously forced his body to slacken and move along with Mallears own, he untightened his hands from the clumps of fur and rested them on Mallears shoulders.

Mallear took his right wrist in one hand and lovingly ran an almost obscenely long rasping tongue along his scaled forearm, seeming to take simple delight in the fact that it was his creation "That's right, never forget that this body belongs to me now. You are mine, my pet." he growled huskily, punctuating his statement with a sudden jerk of his hips that took Tathals breath away with the rapturous wave of ecstasy it sent running up from the depths of his body "And good pets get rewarded."

Tathal felt that same creeping sensation that he felt whenever the minotaur did magic but only for an instant before it was drowned out by a new, much stronger sensation. He felt like he had suddenly been wrapped from head to toe in silk of the finest weave, so wonderfully, euphorically comfortable, every nerve alight with pleasure that was in every way the equal and opposite of Mallears spells of pain. He might have said something, but it was hard to think through the blanket of mage-bestowed elation, all there was was spine-tingling bliss and an undeniable joy at being used for the minotaurs pleasure, as if the knowing that he was bringing enjoyment to his master fed his own felicitous trance.

He cried something out, it might have been a simple exclamation, a moan of passion, or a frenzied, begging plea to be taken more, it was hard to tell and he barely cared anyway. He heard Mallears rich booming laugh like the chiming of golden bells in the distance, not scornful but just exultant, an expression of hedonistic gusto, and found the sound so immensely gratifying that it brought him to joyous tears.

When Mallear climaxed the sudden tension that ran through the minotaurs body was such that he very nearly threatened to dislocate Tathals hips in his grip but he was too enraptured by the spell to more than dimly notice the discomfort. Tathal blinked groggily and looked up, noticing that his chest and stomach was marred by thick globs of his own seed, still leaking from his erect member. Mallear Withdrew his semen-slicked shaft and settled back on his haunches, filling Tathal with an immense, crushing sense of loss that made him involuntarily whimper like a dog.

"Oh? You still want more, pet?" said the minotaur and Tathal could just frantically nod Yes in response, so divorced from higher thought as he was.

"Very well then, you may clean me." said Mallear, rationally Tathal knew he should have been repulsed by the thought, far more so even than being fucked, but the frantic need he felt to have the minotaur inside him overtook all of that and his heart leaped as he scrabbled to his hands and knees and dropped before Mallear like a worshiper, hooking his hands around behind his furred thighs and experimentally tasting the head of the minotaurs shaft with a lick before Mallear placed a hand behind his head and guided him down, insistent but not really forcing him as he took more of the minotaurs maleness into his mouth. Tathal sighed contentedly as he nursed the fleshy length, rolling his tongue around it, outlining the throbbing veins with its tip, suckling and working as deep as he could, occasionally withdrawing to lap at the part of the length he couldn't fit into his mouth, all the while coaxed on by the strong fingers that traced lazy circles on the back of his neck, so calming.

Mallear exhaled a small breath and shot a load of thick, musk-pine seed into Tathals mouth which he drank happily, relishing the salty fluid as though it was sweeter than the schnapps had ever been, it was a holy sacrament, physical proof of his masters pleasure. He lay there for several minutes, rolling the softening shaft around in his mouth until Mallears hand softly detached him and tilted his tear-lined face up to lock eyes with the minotaurs own.

"See how much easier things can be when you are properly acquiescent?" he said, Tathal didn't know what 'acquiescent' meant but nodded anyway.

"Good, remember this lesson when the spell effects wear off. I have ten thousand ways by which I can make you obey me, few as gentle or enjoyable as this." said Mallear, not quite as a threat but definitely as a warning.

With that he reclined against the pillow, or at least the place where the piled furs were thickest, and raised one arm, gesturing with his hand for Tathal to lie next to him. He crept up beside the minotaur as instructed and the furry arm wrapped around him, tucking him tight against the taught-muscled body.

"I should have known you wouldn't react well to direct correction but it's been a long time since I trained a feral, I wrote a book about it once, you know? An age ago, so...so long...ago..." said Mallear in a dreamy, far-away tone as he slowly drifted off to sleep, Tathal wasn't tired but he found himself reluctant to pull away from the minotaurs side, after the horrors of the past few days this safety he felt was blissful and he just wanted to bask in the warmth of the minotaurs body and breathe in his scent and forget for a while. So he lay there, scarcely able to believe that the creature he was huddled against had been the same one that had inflicted such pain on him, and listened to the hypnotic rhythm of the minotaurs breathing, bellow-like lungs drawing in huge gulps of air and expelling it with a soft growl from the back of Mallears throat.

It must have been hours like that, Tathal drifting in and out between sleeping and wake while held like the stuffed toy of some giant child against Mallear, nothing to disturb him but the minotaurs occasional shifting. The candles had long since burned out when soft footsteps roused Tathal to full wakefulness and a human-shaped silhouette filled the entranceway, too dark to make out until a bright ball of light sprung into existance beside the shape - no, hovering over it's palm, it was the black-robed human with the silver hair he had seen before, Silk.

"Master, are you lucid?" he said, raising the orb of light a little higher and taking a few steps inside, casting a glance at Tathal that might have been suprised or distainful.

"Mmmm, more 'clear' than lucid but that's good enough, what is it Apprentice?" groaned Mallear, putting a hand over his eyes to block out the light.

"I thought you'd want to know that the assassin Echidnans have been dispatched, as you ordered." said Silk, the glowing sphere dimming slightly in reaction to Mallears discomfort.

"Which ones?"

"A Cruor and a Somnus, my own hand-picked janissaries, the best." replied Silk.

"Unusual choices, apprentice, any particular reason for that combination?" inquired Mallear with a yawn.

"The Cruor to deal with the bureaucrat and the Somnus for the mage, a perfect complement and should be quite efficient, Master."

Mallear was silent for a moment "Yes," he said at last "wise choices, though be a little less conservative in future, Chant didn't get to that age by being easy to kill, I certainly didn't."

Mallear shrugged Tathal off and sat up, stretching before rising to his hooves and striding over to the paper screen that dominated one side of the chamber, scooping up his discarded robe as he did. Tathal felt desperately forlorn after being tossed aside so easily, he wanted to be back at Mallears side but the minotaur seemed to have forgotten about him.

There was the click of metal-on-metal from behind the screen and Mallear strode out from behind the screen with the familliar impassive expression of his steel mask in place. Tathal felt a burst of joy when that mask tilted to look at him through the crystal lenses.

"So, Ravager, are you ready for your next augmentation?" he intoned, his voice again resonating from the mask.

"Yes, Master." Tathal croaked, rising to his knees.

"Good, but you'll have to wait, I have a few matters to deal with first." said Mallear before turning to Silk "Get him fed and clean, I want him healthy and strong through the procedure, second stage augmentation is always tricky at the best of times."

"Yes, Master. Will there be anything else?"

Mallear paused seemingly in thought before answering "Yes, I want the captive made into a sleeper."

Silk flinched at that "Master, while I do not doubt your wisdom there are...complications when a human uses such magics on a minotaur, certain species resonances that are inimical to eachother when interacting in such a way..."

"And I do not doubt your expertise in air magic, which is precisely why I want you to perform the procedure, Kathar should have them prepared for you anyway." said Mallear in response.

"I may need some time to convalesce afterwards while the meme-shard synchronizes, significantly more than with a human sleeper." voiced Silk in a concerned tone.

"Take as long as is needed, but I want them made a sleeper, and I want everything that has happened here erased from their memory, utterly erased without trace or remnant. Do not fail me, Silk."

"As you command, Master." said Silk with a slight bow as Mallear brushed past him off about whatever business the mage had.

When Tathal looked up Silk was staring down at him with an unreadable expression, he was an unhealthy looking man with sunken cheeks and grayish skin stretched tight over his skull that almost made him look like an old man though Tathal could tell he wasn't much older than he was, the way the folds of his shimmery black robe fell over his shoulders revealed just how thin he was beneath it, giving the impression of someone on the verge of death by starvation. The gorgeous luster of his silvery hair looked quite out of place, as though added as an afterthought.

"Tsk, come then, Ravager or whatever you're called." he said with naked irritation, beckoning Tathal after him with a flick of his wrist.

Tathal followed him through the tunnels, Silk eventually extinguishing the ball of light with a clap of his hands when they got to better illuminated parts of the labyrinth. They eventually ended up at a wide, low-ceilinged chamber filled with the scent of cooking and Silk paused to hiss some orders in a language Tathal didn't recognize at some of the rag-swathed servants who shuffled about carrying boxes and strangely-shaped packages from place to place. Silk took a brass basin from a stack of miscellany and set it down on one of the tables that filled the chamber, he held his hands above it and Tathal watched in amazement as a globe of water formed between them and slowly trickled into the bowl until it was full.

"There, clean yourself, there's a sponge in the bowl." he said with a sigh and walked off toward where the cooking-smell was strongest.

"Um, should I-?" called Tathal after him, tugging at a strap of the leather harness that still encased his upper body.

"No! Don't take it off, whatever you do!" Silk yelled upon turning around, his eyes going wide and raising one hand in warning.

"Why?"

"Just don't, not until the augmentations are complete. It would be pointless trying to explain why to an un-gifted barbarian so just take my word for it."

"Barbarian? The Imperials liked to throw around that word, especially when they were burning down villages." quipped Tathal, taking the ragged piece of sponge from the bowl and squeezing the moisture from it before washing down his front with it.

"I apply it to them also, 'feral' is too kind a word, it implies you're actually capable of being civilized in the first place." replied Silk, stalking off with a flourish of his robe. Tathal glared at his retreating back, he was already feeling irritable from having been separated from Mallear - gods, how did that happen so quickly? - being talked down to by some uppity coat-rack in a dress was bordering on the last straw, mage or not.

By the time he had finished washing silk had returned with a bowl filled with stew and set it down on he table before him before dispersing the dirty water into mist with a wave of his hand.

"There, eat. It's repulsive but it's all there is." he said.

It wasn't the worst thing Tathal had ever eaten but it was far from the best, he recognized the meat as mutton and some of the vegetables as wild roots and herbs, he'd survived on much the same fare before when alone in the wild and surviving by forage, a skill that had probably saved his life when better warriors had been crippled by hunger when the supplies ran out but he was capable of keeping himself fed.

"I have work to take care of, do try not to cause any trouble until the master calls for you." said Silk, turning to leave.

"Hey, wait, what am supposed to until then?"

Silk cracked a scowl of annoyance and sharply kicked what Tathal had thought was a pile of rags until it yelped and started moving, brushing off the hood of sackcloth to reveal the familiar face of First, who looked about in witless confusion.

"There, now you have company." he said before striding off.

"Oy, wha' was tha' fer!" First cried after him, when there was no response he rose and shuffled over to Tathal, muttering irritably.

"Git, 'finks he's great just cos' he's magic." he mumbled bitterly as he slumped down next to Tathal and rested his head on folded arms "'Course, tha' is pretty special, I s'pose."

He was quiet for a moment before without warning he sprung up and leaned in close to Tathal, sniffing at the air.

"Hey, what is it?" said Tathal, trying to lean away from First.

He didn't answer initially but settled back on the bench and grinned widely, displaying a mouth full of needle-sharp teeth that would not have looked amiss in the mouth of a cat.

"So tha's why he's so cranky, yer smell like th'master." he said, gleefully.

"How did you-?"

"I'm like a dog, m'nose is anyway. I can smell better than th'wolven." he said.

"Oh, is that your creator-gift?"

"Naw, s'just somethin th'master did..." First replied, casting a wary, sidelong glance at Tathal "y'not gonna say somethin bad 'bout th'master are yer?"

"Hm? Er, no. No, I...I don't think so." Said Tathal in a quiet voice after swallowing a mouthful of stew. He knew how he had felt about Mallear and he knew that he should still be horrified by what had been done to the strange, mad creature beside him, nevermind what had been done to him, but he just couldn't find that hatred within him anymore, it simply wasn't there.

First smiled happily "Tha's good. He's not bad, th'master, he really ain't. It's jus' one o' his fancies, tha's all."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, ev'ry couple o' decades he 'as some notion and goes chasin' off aft'r it. Reg'lar as clockwork. I dun understan' most of it, I'm not clever like Silk." said First with a dismissive wave, an odd gesture to be made with the rubbery tentacles of his right hand.

"Every couple of decades? Gods, how long have you been with Mallear?" asked Tathal in amazement.

"Since I was old enough ter Talk, tha' was...Um..." First paused to run the math through his head.

"Three-" he said, holding up three clawed fingers before Tathal cut him off.

"Three decades, thirty years!?" he cried "But you don't look thirty."

"Thirty? Naw, three Thousand." replied first, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.