Into The Inferno

[Forsaken]

The Inferno. It was a nest carved beneath The Stage of Retribution for the Forsaken brood, and themed with dark irony. The walls, ceiling, and floor danced with red, gold, and orange light that so closely resembled flame it could be nerve-wracking for newer Forsaken. Filling the interior was a loose tangle of faux black granite vines, as thick around as the delicate glass tree fountains found in the cavern, but sharing no other resemblance. These wielded sharp barbs up to four feet long and were no more serene than a nest of writhing black serpents. Where the barbed vines touched the ground, they widened and were scooped out to provide seating. Where they crossed and looped through the the rest of the room they formed a barbed obstacle course.

The design was not entirely frivolous or cruel. It was meant to hone the agility of the Forsaken and prevent them from fighting amongst themselves when they chose to wait out the hours here.

Tonight, as Asila slunk, injured, into the hidden entrance, she found the theme of the place as appropriate as she often did. As over the top as the design was, at least it was honest. It felt worse to be in the main room of the Cavyrn, where everything was beautiful and boasted a veneer of peace.

Yes, she much preferred the presence of the thorns, the fire, and the twisted Forsaken that dwelled here. Even when she was wounded, and open for attack in their eyes.

But that was what she wanted, wasn't it? A chance to fight back, to lash out. Because in the company of the Guardian's, she was robbed of that freedom, and it was a luxury she badly needed now.

She limped, ducked, and vaulted into the center of the room, aware that every Forsaken had turned it's gaze on her. She smelled of blood, her body broad-casting weakness. She was a target.

"Well," She said softly, her gaze darting amongst the monsters who lay in wait for her. Her pupils dilated till her eyes were a solid black just barely rimmed with green, her body fell into a slight crouch, and her hands tensed, claws at the ready. "if you want to start something with me, step forward now. I can promise you that you'll regret it." Baring her canines, she waited for the first in line to step forward.

((These events took place three weeks before events in the other threads. I chose this time frame because I want to reference events that wouldn't seem very probably otherwise. Other Forsaken are welcome! This thread is a one-shot of sorts. Everyone who wants to visit the club posts in this thread. After my scenario, the time-frame for the club will match that of the other threads.))

[Forsaken]

There would have been a small handful of takers, but just as the first was about to launch her attack Rathkenar began to laugh. A terribly deep sound that seemed to rattle in a hollow chest, it was almost mechanical, definitely not human, and it seemed to roll on forever in the surprised silence of the Forsaken.

Abruptly he stops laughing, the sound cut off so cleanly it would not be hard to imagine that he had suddenly been decapitated. The powerful Forsaken rises to his feet and moves towards the feline member of their Nightwatch, though what his purpose is in doing so even he can not be sure. Yet he knows her announcement was greatly humorous to him, and that the idea of making her regret that challenge brought him great pleasure. It was his job to maintain a semblance of order here, by whatever means he saw fit. And he took his responsibility very seriously.

He travels at a leisurely pace until he stands in front of the defiant Forsaken and stares at her with an unblinking, unfathomable gaze. Defiance. What a distasteful emotion. It was not meant to be held by one of their kind, and this made it wrong. A crime. She would be punished in the way he knew hurt her most.

"You dare try to bring disorder into our fold?" The words are pitched low and calm, but he stands too close and radiates menace while he awaits her response.

[Forsaken]

Asila, face flushed with anger and humiliation, is taken aback by her patrol leader's reaction. Rathkenar rarely interfered with skirmishes between other Forsaken, unless he was indirectly struck during a fight. Why was he singling her out like this? She wondered what it was she had done to set him off. Then again, considering how unbalanced the scorpion Forsaken was there was no real way to tell. Whatever his reasons, he was heading toward her now and his approach seemed anything but friendly. Her stomach dropped. She had not expected to wind up fighting the one Forsaken she was most ill-equipped to damage.

He is before her now, the flickering light reflecting unpleasantly off of his six black eyes. His face is so brittle. There is no give, no expression, just the flesh-colored insect shell of a mask turned in her direction. She steels herself for his reaction, but is nonetheless startled by his words. Disorder?! She had upset him because she had brought disorder to The Inferno? There was rarely anything else to be found here. She scoffed at him. "There is no reason to maintain order here. Why should I?" Courage melds with her ever present feeling of intense desperation and she steps into him, staring into his gleaming black eyes. "My existence and that of every other being in here is suffering. Do you really expect me to behave myself?!" The last word is an angry hiss.

The space around them has become hushed, expectant. It is not every day that a Forsaken is foolish enough to challenge what some consider to be the most faultless killing machine in their midst. Surely this would result in a show to be relished.

[Forsaken]

Still. He is always still. Perfectly motionless as he assesses the psychological flaws of a less able Forsaken. She is inferior. They are always inferior. There is no other who understands how he understands. Who knows the way he always knows. He sees the world as it must be. She doesn't. She foolishly tries to meld it to her desires even now, long after she must have realized that such efforts are an extravagant waste of energy.

He makes his first calculated move. With one claw he reaches for her. His movements are so slow, so fluid. There is no violence in the gesture. She will not expect what must seem to be a fatherly gesture from him. The strong supportive hand upon her shoulder.

The gesture is only an empty parody. She can not know this. She will not run.

[Seven]

Reece had been contentedly asleep, in the highest available corner he had found--which seemed odd given that he was surrounded by so many other vicious Forsaken, but really it never bothered him. The darkness of the place, the black veins twisting around tree-like pillars, and the threat of danger from a predator at every corner...oddly called to him in the depths of his twisted mind. He was no longer a man, and so this parody of a forest--rain forest--was good enough for this parody of an animal.

He snorted in his sleep, twisting till his ear twitched, and reluctantly he opened an orange eye. It was night, and he was oversleeping. He woke up quickly, mirth overtaking sleepiness as he sat up, no hint of grogginess on his face as he looked down at the sight. Without a thought, he threw himself off the ledge onto another, lesser peak, until his hands grasped the vine, avoiding the spikes, and began to climb. He hung from his arms, and grabbed the next with his feet, making his way across the crowd overhead until he hung over the interesting pair. He dropped down, landing behind Asila, then popped up, the wide grin on his face as his hands both landed on her other, free, shoulder.

"Ooo!" He grinned, and knowing that the cat Forsaken wouldn't take well to his touch, he fell back down and popped up on the side of the Rathkenar. "What game is this? Reece wants to play! No one ever invites Reece!" He twisted his head and looked to Rathnekar, pouting. He was very stupid, in thinking and speaking to the powerful Forsaken as though a friend he could behave ridiculously with. But then, he didn't really think that--that was just how he behaved with everyone--forgetting so often he couldn't think better of it. "Rathnekar..." he whined.

[Forsaken]

Rathkenar was right in his assessment. She does not run. Instead she stares at his claw as it gradually draws nearer, feeling fear trilling it's warning through her nervous system but bound by something else. A strange sort of longing. She does not understand why, but Rathkenar's reach seems so familiar. It reminds her of something warm and friendly. Something she must have known once but had forgotten now.

How Rathkenar senses what she has forgotten she does not know, but he has. And if it wasn't for Reece's revolting hand creeping suddenly upon her shoulder, she would have been as paralyzed by those ghostly echos he had inspired in her as he had intended.

Instead, she twists violently to the side, yowling in disgust and dropping into a crouch. She bares her teeth and shudders visibly. It only takes a few moments for her to shake the paralyzing effect of her phobia concerning long, spidery limbs. Then she leaps for the aye-aye Forsaken.

She had come here for a fight, after all. Better Reece be her opponent than Rathkenar.


Rathkenar lowers his arm as his target slips beyond his grasp. A strange clicking resonates from behind blank facial plates. He is...irritated. He turns his head and stares at Reece from only three of his six eyes, his head only being turned halfway. "You are not wise." He states in a hollow voice. Impossible to tell, though, whether that was a mere statement or a prologue to a threat.

When Asila leaps, he does not immediately respond. Like an impatient parent who makes one last attempt at humoring a child, he waits.

[Seven]

Reece blinked, and his expression was almost innocent. Then he started to grin again, affectionately tilting his head against Rathkenar's arm. He looked extremely diminuative against the tall, imposing Forsaken.

"Aww, did Reece do something bad again? Reece didn't mean to! Reece just wants to know what's going on!" It was the truth really. Reece had only spied a group gathering around the two, and had seen Rathkenar with his hand on Asila's shoulder. There was never an indication to him that this was a fight, since, being a poor fighter, he might have been wise enough to keep away from that. Or not. No one really knew when it came to Reece, mind mostly gone.

He looked between Rethkenar and the cat, smiling even more oddly at Asila than he had at Rathkenar. "So..." he said, twisting his head up back to the one who rightfully called him unwise. "...What are we doing again?"

[Forsaken]

It seems that fate is reluctant to grant even the most petty of Asila's desires, for the door to The Inferno swings open just as her feet leave the ground, emitting the Forsaken from the previous watch.

Their entry triggers an immediate switch in Rathkenar, who is now geared for the night's assignment with a flawless and remarkably fast transition. Order and Unity among the Nightwatch members are his primary objectives now. He snatches the cat Forsaken out of the air and throws her to the ground at his feet before answering Reece's last query. "We are beginning our patrol. You know your assigned route. Take care of it." He looks down at Asila, and though he is very difficult to read there is something reminiscent of disgust in the low, harsh tone of his voice when he speaks to her. "Get up. We are moving out." And, with his black coat rustling like bat wings as he turns sharply toward the door he crosses the room and moves out into the frozen night.

Asila does not immediately pick herself up. Her frustration is so potent it burns in her chest cavity like something toxic. She had come here looking for release tonight, betting on her chance to prove she was neither weak nor vulnerable to any will save her own. That her master's twisted lesson concerning why she was so dependent on him was wrong.

Blood streams warmly from the new cuts on her bare arms, given to her by Rathkenar when he tore her from the air. She pushes herself up from the ground with an angry snarl and stalks out of The Inferno, after their patrol leader. If she was lucky, tonight would be the night that a Sentinel or Rebel group would compromise him, and she wanted to make sure that she was there to make him fall.

And though such a treacherous thought caused her vision to go white with piercing agony, she did not waver in her furious steps.

((Either we are at the end of this segment, or we can move out on patrol with our Forsaken. We still have to introduce our werewolf characters. Maybe it would be fun to do so through a passing skirmish with the Forsaken?))