World of Warcraft®

Fel...everything hurt even his hair. Can hair hurt? Well...if not it was news to him right about now. The plan had been simple if anything ever could be that when dealing with Modas. They would go in and find Thelinna where the meeting with the elf was destined to take place only instead of the elf the Modasai would find herself meeting daggers. Well...that was the plan at least, what took place was vastly different.

-

Shifting nervously Kord glanced up at every little sound checking for Harmarth's location. The worgen was prowling around uneasily and perhaps a little too eagerly at the prospect of a Modas hunt. A voice breaking the silence nearly caused the rogue to jump out of his skin before he realized it was Harm whispering to him. Aziel was here as well...

That didn't bode well for the successful outcome at all.

Turning to the worgen beside him Kord mumbled softly "Where?"

The reply came a bit uneasily but still with the hint of eagerness "Saw them walk past with each other, not sure where they went"

Nodding softly Kord moved down the alleyway heading for the inn "I'll check inside...?"

Harmarth nodded and moved to check the opposite direction halting and returning to the inn at Kord's hissed whisper over the stone "Fel, Found her...I don't see him?"

The two rogues sat watching her for what seemed forever, Kord with a look of distrust and discomfort and Harmarth with one bordering on almost feral intensity. Finally the silence was broken as the young human murmured into his stone "I don't like it...we should go." After a pause though he added almost reluctantly "but I don't know if we would ever get this chance again."

The worgen simply growled softly before moving closer and finally murmuring "It'll show the Modas they aren’t safe...not even here. I'm going for it."

Grimacing Kord nodded and pulled his daggers "Fine...I will back you up."

In retrospect backing up the bloodthirsty Modas hating worgen wasn't his brightest move. What followed next happened almost faster then he could follow, the usual guards alerted by their presence swarmed in. Those he could deal with...it was the elf he could not, Aziel had been upstairs then down them came an Elvin warlock flinging felfire and curses. Kord lasted a bit longer then the worgen but the effect was the same, using the last vestiges of consciousness he attempted to lunge only to be caught from behind by a guard and sent to the blackness of unconsciousness.

Unfortunately...or perhaps thankfully...it didn't last long. Slowly the world flickered back into focus enough for him to notice Jon being drug towards a portal, where he didn't get to see as he was being drug off by guards to light only knows what. Thinking back he wasn't quite sure why they just didn't kill him but he supposed best to just count his blessings and be done with it.

You always hear how opulent the elves lives are down to the finest detail, Kord was amused to note this even extended to their jails. Like any sane rogue he had managed to conceal a lock pick away in the seam of his pants to where it would not be found even after they confiscated his gear leaving him in nothing but a shirt and pants. The old dragon had since taken off to warn the others of what was happening leaving him to his own devices, which was fine except for one small detail, moving -HURT-. After a few minutes and much hem-hawing he finally stood up and moved to the bars to attempt to see if there were any guards and then if not to see where the catch was.

Magic...it's always magic. Picking himself up the rogue regarded the bars now glowing from the magic that had just thrown him across the room. Gathering a small stone he tossed it and immediately ducked as it was thrown back at him with more force then initially applied...interesting! Sitting down again in the center of the room he spared an absent glance at an elf walking by pausing only to sneer at the human before returning to his patrols.

Turning to a more immediate predicament Kord regarded the manacles encircling his wrists and gritted his teeth, first things first. By the time his wrist was free he was trembling from the pain and had sweat beading on his brow. but at least he was free. Turning back to the gate he started gathering various bits and pieces of anything and everything at hand. It was a long shot but if he could overload the barrier he might be able to pick the lock and escape before the guards realized what was happening.

For once that night something went according to plan, a few more minutes saw him out the door and heading for freedom hindered only by the sneering guard and an unfortunate meeting with a mace to the ribs. As he exited the city and made for the rendezvous point a few points gnawed at his mind, first and foremost being...how do they get Harm back?

((Well written, and an interesting twist! Looking forward to seeing where this goes.))

Jonathan stalked the darkened Murder Row impatiently. The only thought that could pierce his mind at this moment was an assertion that Thelinna had better not be late. Wait; there! There she was, and walking with her was...

Jonathan's heart quickened. Aziel himself... he was here. They could take them both out... Jonathan quickly muttered into the stone to inform Kord, wherever he was. "He's here... Aziel is here..." Kord's question of where came with some surprise. Had he dozed off or something? "Saw them walk past with each other... not sure which direction they turned, though."

They agreed to check different directions, though Kord quickly reported that he'd found her inside. Making his way inside silently, he looked around. Aziel was likely upstairs, while Thelinna had taken a seat at the extravagant table.

The longer she sat, apparently ever more impatiently waiting for the elf she was to meet, the more impatient Jonathan got. "What are we even waiting for...?" He murmured. Kord apparently didn't know either.

"I don't like it... we should go." Came Kord's voice. Jonathan stared in disbelief at the stone. Then came the afterthought, "but I don't know if we would ever get this chance again."

Jonathan nodded to himself, growling softly before moving closer and finally murmuring "It'll show the Modas they aren’t safe...not even here. I'm going for it."

The rest became a blur, noise, combat, pain... and finally unconsciousness.

*****

Jonathan stirred slowly, vaguely aware that something was prodding him. He was exhausted... in pain... a weak growl escaped his throat as his eyes opened and he became aware of his surroundings.

He'd been here before... the cell... the chains... he was muzzled as well. The piercing voice confirmed it all. "It has been some time since you've been here, hasn't it, pup?"

Jon looked up at Thelinna. "Not... long enough..." he managed.

Thelinna smiled thinly. "Mmmm. Now, are you going to be a good pup and tell me who sent you and the spy, or are you going to let me play?"

Jonathan snarled, weak as he was. "Come a little closer, and I'll be happy to play with you..."

"Muzzles and chains, pup. I do not think you will break free. But if you're not going to be a good pup, well, I will have to find out by other means..." Thelinna pulled out a small object and looked it over. Jonathan identified it as a dart. "And this will allow me to try out my new poison. Thank you for volunteering!"

Jonathan found himself not afraid, but furious that he was so helpless in front of this woman for the second time now. "I'll find a way out... this time i'm not so feral I can't string two words together..."

Thelinna ignored him, looking between him and the dart. "Hmh. If I miss, I will just do it the old fashioned way..." With a sudden movement, she threw the dart. Jonathan tried to shift away, but the combination of the chains and his own condition restricted him, and the dart connected with his arm, drawing a sharp whine from the Worgen.

Thelinna gave another sickening smile. ""Mmm, now to wait just a bit to let this spread. You see, this will spread through your blood stream, seep through your body and cause your pain receptors to intensify... essentially, even the slightest touch will be painful. But since I have not tested this much, the effects may be a little strong."

Jonathan growled and grabbed at the dart, throwing it weakly at her. The dart technically hit her, but not in the way he'd hoped. He watched as the dart fell to the floor by her feet. She ignored the effort entirely, reaching forward to prod him lightly with her staff. Jonathan winced, already such a slight touch feeling as though she'd stabbed him.

Thelinna was delighted. "Ooooh, wonderful, pup!" She cried, bringing the staff down harder, again... and again...

And again...

(( /cackle

Will totally be continued later. ;) ))

Donovan made his way through the Modas Sanctuary eagerly. He had heard of Jonathan's capture previously, and his "companion" had performed his task well enough (though Donovan had needed to put particular emphasis on the need to repair the front bloody door). His research, he believed, had paid off, and he now had a mixture that would, hopefully, serve his intentions.

Jonathan lifted his head weakly upon hearing the door open, and let out a soft growl as Donovan stepped into view, using his scythe as a walking stick. "Doing well, I hope, son?"

"Go to hell." Jon managed through the muzzle, slumping back down as much as the chains and restraits would allow. "Come for attempt number two to 'remove the stain'?" He asked, no longer even bothering to attempt to look at the Forsaken.

"No, actually. A brief test is all. Drink up, pup." Donovan produced a grin, and a vial of red liquid, the sickly sweet scent of which caused Jonathan to cringe.

"I'd rather drink the blight they dropped on the Wrath Gate." he spat. Undaunted, Donovan approached, and roughly removed the muzzle from his worgen son. Jonathan winced, evoking a raised eyebrow from the Forsaken, but he dismissed it for now.

"You really must stop interpretting these things as requests, my boy... now, drink." Donovan did not play around - grabbing the exhausted Worgen by the jaw, he pried the jaws open and poured the mixture down his throat, Jonathan nearly choking on it but too worn out to actively resist.

Donovan stepped back. "Oh, calm down. it's not that bad. I'm not going to kill you, at least not yet. Like I said, this is merely a test." Jonathan looked back up, weakly. "You might even recognise the main component of the little mixture. After all, you made it."

Jonathan's expression became one of confusion and concern. Donovan merely laughed. "Your rage potion, my boy, is quite potent. I merely made it moreso." Jonathan's eyes narrowed, and the warlock's grin widened.

"I'm going to rip out what's left of your throat!" Donovan would have blinked, if he could, at the sudden energy in Jonathan's voice. Curiously, the Forsaken extended the butt of his scythe slowly toward Jonathan.

Jonathan took the end of the scythe between snapping jaws, and pulled. Donovan, however, pulled harder, and recovered it, his grin growing ever wider. "Well well, feeling a bit more vicious than usual? You never bite."

Jonathan squeezed his eyes shut and growled. Donovan watch with amusement, knowing that the growl was not directed at him, but rather Jonathan was growling at himself. He recognised that he was being affected by his own modified potion.

Jonathan began to twitch and fidget, the primal rage granting him a new reserve of energy to struggle against his bonds, growling and snarling at his "father". "I'm going to tear you apart!" he yelled. "You'll pay! I'll show you what real fear is!"

Donovan shook his head. Fast-acting, potent, a near-feral level of fury and yet he was still human enough to yell and shout and rant at him. A complete success. The warlock looked back to Jonathan, who had stopped his yelling again, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to rebel against his own fury - or rather, the fury that Donovan had granted him.

That Jonathan was so consciously rebelling against the rage and fury came from the concentrated dose, and the active knowledge of what he was going through. More subtle doses, properly distributed, to unknowing crowds... that's where things would really get interesting, especially once certain other events got underway. Donovan raised his scythe and brought it down in a swift strike with the haft, quieting the Worgen, who slumped into unconsciousness once again.

Donovan slipped the muzzle back on, and turned to leave. His research in Hyjal had paid off. Now it was all a matter of how he used it.