Path of Torment

[Dezera Blackwell]

This was a thread originally posted on the ARPC boards between March 5, 2012 and April 17, 2012. It is also relevant because it has links to Dead World and the Shadows of Change story lines.


So young, so innocent, so naive… Dezera almost felt bad about taking advantage of him. For several nights now she had listened to him ramble on about his family and friends, soaking up the information all while wearing her mask perfectly. With each visit, she bent him to her will further.

At last the mask paid off as she stole a kiss… a taste, sweeter than any wine and the boy remained unaware of the path he was about to be led down. A path that Dezera would use to torment him, test him. This would be his test and it would either make him more than he was now, stronger, or leave him in a crumpled heap.

As they bid each other farewell, she watched him stumble out the door hiding a small laugh. Once out of sight, she grabbed her cloak and wrapped it around herself tightly, pulling the hood up over her head. Quickly looking through a small book of notes, thoughts ran through her head, the girl, Celestia… that’s where I’ll start… her family made things easy. Closing the book, she placed it in her pack and set off for the moongate. Stepping through, she spoke the words of her destination before being whisked away. Dezera stepped out and looked around, pulling her cloak tighter and watched as the shadows surrounded her, bending to her will as easily as the boy. A crooked little smile crossed her lips as she started moving quietly in search of her first stone in the path.

[Dezera Blackwell]

Dezera watched the small home from the shadows, waiting for the right moment. Finally the man exited, headed off to his nightly duties, which meant the girl would be home alone. She knew exactly where the girl would be too. Dezera had been watching the family for several nights now and they proved to be creatures of habit. Moving to the back of the house Dezera paused with her hand on the door, tilting her head she listened for others. Satisfied, she quietly opened the door and slipped through, still clinging to the shadows around her.


There was her target... Dezera stood in the doorway of the bedroom, watching the girl, Celestia, as she read and practiced some spells. A small smirk appeared on Dezera's face as a memory crossed her mind, one fairly similar to the scene before her. As she snapped back to reality, Dezera let the shadows slowly fall from around her. Celestia was so focused on her spell work that it took a few moments before she noticed the hooded figure in the doorway that was watching her. The girl startled a little, "Who are you? What are you doing here?"


Celestia saw a crooked little smile and then a piercing ice blue gaze as Dezera pulled her hood back. Dezera put a finger to her lips as she held the girls gaze with her own, "Shhh." She moved to sit down on the small bed next to the girl and began to probe her for information, Celestia nodding or shaking her head in response obediently. Satisfied with the information acquired, Dezera lightly traced a finger along the girls' face. Leaning in she lightly brushed her lips against Celestia's... smiling as she felt the girl tense up. Turning the girls head to the side, she whispered softly, "You've done very well Celestia. I only want one more thing from you."


Dezera looked down at the scene and nodded in approval. Celestia's lifeless body laid sprawled out on the bed, clothing and blankets torn and scattered around the room. Passed out and heavily drugged, partially on top of the girl, was a half naked man that Dezera had found in an alleyway. She had given him enough of the potion to knock him out cold until about the time the girl's dad would arrive back home. She surveyed the room one last time before wrapping herself back up in her cloak and pulling the hood up. Whispering a few small words, she touched the runebook and was whisked away.


As she walked through the front doors of their home, there was Averi relaxing by the fire. Dezera slipped the cloak off, resting it on a nearby chair as he turned to look at her. A dark, mischievous grin appeared as he noticed the blood splattered clothing and hair, "Tesoro, what trouble have you been up to?"

[Everett Whitethorn]

Everett Whitethorn sat upon his rented bed at the Scholar's Inn of Moonglow, and eagerly unwrapped the scroll. He had been advised of the letter's arrival as he set off for breakfast with a Lycaeum scholar he had befriended. Courtesy before curiosity, he reminded himself, and patiently sat through a course of scrambled eggs and sausage links and a side plate of toast, as well as a lengthy diatribe regarding the evolution of the runic alphabet. Once his manners were fully minded, however, the young man from Britain dashed back to his inn room to read the message. He instantly recognized the handwriting, it belonged to Bartholomew Dragonbane III, often and cruelly called "Bottoms" by others. But Everett only ever referred to his close personal friend by his given name, to do otherwise would be unkind and beneath them both.

"Dearest Everett,

It is with deepest regret and sadness that I inform you that tragedy has come to Serpent's Hold..."

After finishing Bartholomew's letter for the fifth and final time, Everett let it slip from his grasp. As sadness filled his blue, blue eyes, he could not find a name for what it was he was feeling. The only thing he could do before the flood of tears came was quietly speak her name, "Celestia..."

[Everett Whitethorn]

Everett Whitethorn's return to Serpent's Hold had been both sad and brief. Most of it was spent consoling poor Celestia's father, pushing aside his own feelings and staying strong for those that needed him. As expected, Bartholomew and Mooky the Talking Mongbat Minstrel also attended the funeral, but this reunion seemed bitter sweet. With Celestia no longer among them, Everett had come to see his boyhood adventures in a different light. While they remained grand stories indeed, and nothing would ever change what had been, there was also the realization that they were never again to be repeated. They were of times past now. The next day, Bartholomew suggested they interrogate the villain responsible to better understand why this senseless tragedy had occurred. But Everett politely declined. No good could come of it.

During the return trip to Moonglow, the young man from Britain's thoughts were not of his boyhood companions or of the experiences they had shared, but of the Lady Dezera Blackwell. While in Serpent's Hold, he had greatly noticed her absence, and longed to be in her presence once more. He felt guilty for departing Moonglow without a word, especially after they had kissed. This was not the way a man of virtue should behave, and he knew he had no choice but to rectify his unkindness towards her.

********

The young man from Britain finally returned to the Scholar's Inn of Moonglow, after spending much of the previous day at Dezera's home. The two of them had shared so much in that short period of time. Everett had told her that he loved her, and wished for her to be his Lady Love forever at his side. In return, she said she loved him too. And then they had --

"I am now a man," he spoke aloud, finally putting voice to the feelings that stirred within.

[Dezera Blackwell]

Dezera was pleased with how her little game was going and the results that it was producing. While during the first night of Everett’s return she could tell there were moments that he was close to breaking down, but he stayed strong. Courage was the word of the evening and it pleased her that this, along with his growing desire to please her, was distracting him away from the sorrow.

By the second night, Everett showed little to no signs that he was focused on the girl. Instead, his thoughts, words, and actions were devoted to Dezera, his Lady Love. She couldn’t help the twisted thoughts that came to her mind as he used the phrase, “I would do anything,” several times. The young man was molding well into the place she wanted him and her deceitfulness was almost too easy, as he believed every word that came from her lips.

While she would need to placate him a little bit for things to continue, there was no doubt in her mind that this would pay off in the end. Dezera would just need to update Averi of the new events so he wouldn’t worry. Besides… it was just a trip, for now, one that had great potential as long as she remained undetected.

[Dezera Blackwell]

Dezera had actually enjoyed the trip to Britain, but then the water was always a source of calm energy for her. Everett however, could hardly contain himself at the thought of seeing his family and them meeting his love. Finally they made dock as the night grew late and gathered their bags. Walking through the streets, Everett pointed out things of interest along the way until they arrived at the Wayfarer’s Inn. She watched as he spoke to the inn keeper, pleased with the growing assertiveness that he was showing. Reaching their room, Everett ran his plans for the next day by Dezera as they settled in for the evening.

The first impression seemed to be going well, but then Dezera knew all too well the role that needed to be played. She found Everett’s family to be about as normal as one could ever imagine and could find little to no signs of any discontent within the household. Dinner however was painful for her. She forced down as little food as possible to maintain appearances, and as the room was distracted by Everett’s stories, quietly excused herself. She played off the small bout of sickness as being the result from the trip and then proceeded to be doted on by Everett for the rest of the night.

As they returned to the Inn, Dezera reassured Everett that she was feeling better and to not worry. Eventually he drifted off to sleep, and as she watched the content smile still on his face she started going through her plan in her head. I hope his meeting is soon so there aren’t too many more nights like this.

[Dezera Blackwell]

Dezera stood in the shadows and watched the house and streets. Satisfied that all was clear, she crept across the street and slipped in the side entrance of the house. She made her way upstairs, reveling in the sound of the three heartbeats. Upon entering the first room, she quietly shut the door before letting the shadows fall from around her. Dezera watched the girl sleep for a few moments before pulling the dagger out and moving closer. The girl was dead before she could make a sound and underneath the blood on Dezera’s face was a crooked smile as she looked over the body.

Quietly, Dezera moved down the hallway to the next room and slipped inside, setting up the next stage of her plan. Alfred was tied to a chair in the middle of the room, his eyes glazed over as if in a trance. Dezera was sitting on the edge of the bed with his wife’s now lifeless body lying next to her. She pushed off the bed and spoke quietly and intently as she moved closer. Seating herself across his lap, she held his gaze with hers, “Now Alfred, listen closely… and when you’re asked about what happened here, these are the details that you’ll give.” She watched for recognition as he nodded slowly, then leaned in and began to whisper in his ear. Alfred repeated everything to her that she requested. Happy with the response Dezera smirked as she leaned back in and whispered in his ear, “Now to make this believable it needs to look like you actually put up a fight.”

Wiping the blood from her lips and face, she looked over Alfred once more. He was slumped over in the chair, weak… barely conscious, broken bones visible, and his right eye damaged beyond repair. Dezera now moved through each room in the house, taking anything that may be marked as valuable. Her work complete, she called for the shadows to wrap around her before slipping into the cool night air.

[Everett Whitethorn]

After weeks of Moonglow, Everett Whitethorn, boy hero of Britain, had finally received the summons to return to his city of birth. He had quickly departed Verity Isle in response to Countess Isabella de Mor's letter, eagerly awaiting the opportunity to fulfill his pledge of assistance to the noblewoman and her people. Everett had always been patient by nature. Except as of late, he found himself desiring an end to this obligation, so that he might embrace the future adventures that awaited him. No mere continuation of his boyhood tales, but the deeds of a man. Although he still carried the grief of Celestia's tragic murder with him, he had remained steadfast in his dedication to the virtues. From this belief he gained his strength, and also from presence of his lady love, Dezera Blackwell, who had accompanied him on his journey home. The nervous anticipation of introducing Dezera to his parents had been for naught; they had loved her just as he did.

But that was before. Now his mother and younger sister were dead. His father grievously injured. The victims of an intruder motivated by a dark heart and a lust for material things. Everett could scarcely remember his reaction, or what had transpired between learning the news and arriving at his present location. Inside Britain's Chamber of Virtue, his sad blue eyes angrily scrutinized the eight symbols that suddenly seemed so meaningless and hollow, and all he could wonder was ...

...why?

[Everett Whitethorn]

Everett Whitethorn always tried to uphold the virtues the best that he could. Honesty. Compassion. Valor. Justice. Sacrifice. Honor. Spirituality. Humility. These were more than just words to the boy from Britian, they were a sacred compact between a king, his lands, and his subjects. Although the throne of Lord British was now empty, the kingdom slowly falling apart, and the people suffering from discontent, the virtues remained a force to inspire all of Sosaria. During the many boyhood adventures he shared with Bartholomew Dragonbane III (also known as Bottoms), Celestia the Sorceress-In-Training, and Mooky the Talking Mongbat Minstrel, it was their adherence to these beliefs that won the day. No matter how dangerous the threat or how deep the mystery, light would triumph over the darkness. Even as he suffered his most recent trials -- Celestia's random murder in Serpent's Hold, or the brutal incident that left his mother and sister dead, and his father seriously wounded -- Everett never strayed from his virtues.

Until Dezera had approached him with the whereabouts of the perpetrator responsible for the attack against his family. At first, Everett thought to alert the authorities, but his lady love convinced him it was best to handle it themselves. It felt wrong to so casually disobey the law, but she was correct, this was their only choice. Otherwise, the miscarriage of justice was a possibility, and the boy from Britain could never allow for such a thing. Upon confrontation, the villain did not even attempt to hide his crimes. Instead, he mocked and laughed and provoked at every turn. He bragged openly about his acts, insulted his accuser's manhood, and even made inappropriate advances towards Dezera. In hindsight, it was unsurprising that the confrontation had escalated to violence, but this was not what Everett had intended.

No, that was a lie. The younger Whitethorn had looked forward to laying his hands upon the monster, and calling him out for the filthy wretch that he was.

When the man pushed him, Everett enjoyed knocking him down and kicking him breathless.

When the man pulled out his dagger, Everett relished the chance to pummel him further.

When the man struck at Dezera, Everett was thrilled to run him through with a blade.

And when the man lay dying, Everett gladly stomped his f*cking skull to paste.

Everything that followed was a blur. His lady love had the presence of mind to help dispose of the evidence, including the corpse and all of the blood tainted clothing. Then they were safely back in the inn, and Dezera was consoling and kissing him. And that was story of the first time Everett Whitethorn ever failed his virtues.

[Everett Whitethorn]

As Britain suffered, Everett Whitethorn did nothing. From the safety of the Wayfarer's Inn, he heard the screams. Through the window of his inn room, he smelled the destruction. When he stepped outside, he saw the fires that threatened to consume and those responsible for igniting them. Yet he was not compelled to intervene. Instead, the boy adventurer simply retreated back inside to await the outcome. Either the city of his birth would fall, or it would survive. Everett was almost puzzled by how easily he surrendered himself to inaction. It was not that his courage had failed him, he simply no longer cared. Even concern for his father, who was recuperating across the river at the healers, or for his lady love, who was off somewhere else, failed to motivate him. If they did not die tonight, it was inevitable that they would eventually leave him. Just like Celestia and his mother and his sister had.

Ignoring the surrounding chaos, Everett slipped beneath his blankets and closed his eyes. The sounds of rioting gave way to the memory of boot upon shattered skull, and he slept well.

********

The two guardsmen came for Everett shortly after dawn, awaking him from his slumber. Their armor was marred and dented, and one wore his arm in a sling, while the other had a bandage wrapped around his head. After he had dressed, they escorted him outside of the Wayfarer's Inn and headed west. As they passed the Chamber of Virtue, the sight of a burnt body clawing at the building's wall brought him strange amusement. The three men quickly crossed the bridge and entered the western part of Britain, eventually stopping at the Healer of Britain. Once inside, the guardsman without the sling offered some consoling words, before asking Everett to identify the corpse, which lay broken and blood on the floor, a clear victim of the rioters.

"Yes," The younger Whitethorn nodded. "This is my father."

[Everett Whitethorn]

Everett Whitethorn had not left the Ironwood Inn for nearly a week. Not since their flight from Britain to Vesper during the aftermath of the riots. Each day came and went the as the one before it. While Dezera would attempt to comfort, the former boy adventurer refused both food and words, his attention focused only on the mundane and irrelevant -- the details of the ceiling cracks, the length of time for a candle to die, counting the deer that passed by the window. The mind was capable of conjuring much to distract from realization. All those grand adventures he had shared with Bartholomew and Celestia and Mooky the Talking Mongbat Minstrel were meaningless now. His faith in the virtues had failed him, and Celestia and his family were gone. Finally, his lady love reached her limit, and pushed Everett towards expression. He initially struggled to ignore her efforts, but they slowly caught his interest, and the malaise began to fade. She hinted at the promise of purpose, an escape from this mockery his life had become.

The first surprise came when they arrived at the place Dezera referred to as her "true home." This was not the small Moonglow cottage where they had exchanged hours of conversation and intimacy. She had never mentioned the existence of this much larger house, and he briefly wondered if she had kept other secrets from him.

The second surprise came when she revealed to him her dungeon. A horrid place filled with mechanisms of pain and torture, and Everett was struck speechless. This was not his lady love.

The third surprise came when her fangs pierced his neck, and she began to feed ...

[Dezera Blackwell]

Dezera reveled in her deception as she began to drain the very essence of life from Everett. Struggling against her, crying out in protest only fueled the animal within and she tightened her grip on him. As she continued to drink, his body finally gave in to her and started to go limp. Gently she laid him on the floor, listening to his heart beat and breath slow before stopping the flow. She looked him over as she knelt beside him, “Are you sure?”

Everett let out a small groan in her direction, barely hanging on to life. She bit into her wrist and placed it above his lips, allowing her blood to trickle against them. A crooked smile crossed Dezera’s lips as she watched the instincts take over and he began to swallow. Pressing her wrist against his lips, she encouraged him to take more. After a few moments she went to pull her wrist away but Everett’s eyes fluttered open and he grabbed her arm, trying to pull it back to him. Allowing him to continue a while longer, she then forcefully pulled her wrist away, “Enough.” Healing her wound, she watched as he closed his eyes as he licked the remaining blood from his lips.

Smirking, Dezera scooped him up in her arms and carried Everett over to one of the cells, laying him on the floor inside. He groaned as he looked up at her, still not coherent. Looking him over again, she spoke quietly… peacefully, “Rest. The next few days are going to be… painful. But your new life is beginning.” Everett groaned as she walked out of the cell, looking back at him once more and locking the door.

[Everett Whitethorn]

Everett Whitethorn was enjoying the taste of human blood. It was not as pleasurable if he had hunted up supper himself, but still, he did not appreciate the interruption.

"Everett, enough," Dezera told him as she grabbed the back of his head.

"Why? I'm hungry!"

"You must stop before her heart," she tried to reason with him. "If you drink her dry, it will kill you. We will get more."

Everett laughed, and then casually snapped the young woman's neck. He then relaxed his grip, and watched as she fell dead to the floor of the dungeon cell. All of Dezera's rules were beginning to irritate him. "Oh look, I killed her." The boy-adventurer-turned-vampire then fixed his deep blue eyes upon his sire. "This is a problem between us?"

"Nope."

Despite the temporary annoyance, Everett was still largely pleased by his new circumstances. With the change had come a freedom his old self was incapable of imagining. Of course, what most interested him was this ability called glamour. Before she ended up a corpse on the floor, the young woman had been completely under Dezera's power. She never flinched when he yanked her hair or grabbed her breast or placed his hand between her legs. Even the shattering of her nose yielded no reaction. Yet once she was released from the spell, the pain and fear suddenly appeared. He had never witnessed anything so inspirational.

Life had vastly improved for Everett Whitethorn, and he looked forward to his first hunt ...