Grim Views

((I intended to write this as a response to Syreena's post about the red shard MONTHS ago. I'm very late. And it's way longer than I intended. And it's not much about the original topic. So here's a separate post. I apologize for the length. I'm not even sure I should post it, but...eh. What the heck, why not. Enjoy! I hope!))

She was coming for him.

The light of a nearby torch was reflected upon the surface of the knife, glinting in the darkness for but a moment as it reached the apex of it's flight before being brought back down again. The knife spun in it's descent, with one moment the sharpened point facing the ceiling and another toward the floor. Before it had fallen very far, Veltor's hand snapped around the blade, grasping the hilt.

Veltor grinned at his little victory. It was a game, in a way. Something he enjoyed. Many years ago, perhaps, it had started as a nervous habit. Tossing a knife to himself. It was symbolic really. Matched his life.

He gave the blade another toss through the air, not even bothering to watch it's ascent. He knew where it would be, how it would fall. He had done this enough times to know precisely how much force to put into his toss and at what angle. And at the precise moment with which he should catch the blade. Though there was never any guarantee of which side he would catch. That was the fun part, he supposed.

Again the knife fell, and again he caught it by the hilt, tossing the knife back up almost in the same moment of it's catch.

Up and down, up and down.

Again and again he tossed the knife to himself. A fun little exercise that had little in the way of real meaning or pracitcality. It soothed him when he had the slightest twinge of doubt. Not that he didn't believe that everything would proceed as had been planned. The orc was here just as he had expected. Even now, she was racing through his lair, slicing through his minions and drawing ever closer to him. Once in a while, he even thought he could hear the sound of steel being drawn from a sheathe, the delightful gasp of mixed surprise and pain as a wound is inflicted, and then the soft thump of a body hitting the floor.

Of course, he could be imagining things. It was difficult to tell sometimes. His mind did run away from him on occasion. Life was more fun that way.

Another noise, more discernable this time. A heavy thud, and the scrape of metal. From the sound of things, one of his minions had just been dispatched. The heavy one wearing all the armor. She was getting close now.

Pain shot through his hand as it closed around the knife. Looking down, he could just make out the blood as it stained the sharpened edge of the blade, dripping down to the floor.

A miscalculation. In his distraction, his throw must have been off. He had caught the knife by the wrong end, and now he had cut himself. And such was life. He had been doing this work for so long now, it came as almost a second nature. Torture, pain, and murder had been his tools for decades now. He knew who to target, how to catch them in his web, how to bring them screaming to the end of their life, and then do the whole thing over again without ever getting caught.

But one mistake, one slip of the knife. One wrong move. Underestimating one of his patients, perhaps leading to an escape. Threatening the wrong person, getting in the way of a powerful family or clan.

Despite the increased measure of pain, Veltor's grip tightened around the blade. He could feel the cold steel slicing through his flesh, ripping apart sinew and muscle, digging into the bone that lay underneath. The sheer agony pulsing through his hand was enough to distract his thoughts for a moment. The pain almost overwhelmed him. It took an incredible amount of focus and concentration for Veltor to reorganize his thoughts, all the while never easing the pressure of the knife against the growing wound in his hand.

It might not even have to be his fault, he mused, reabsorbing himeslf in his own thoughts. A passerby could stumble into his lair by accident and report it to a guard. Or perhaps an extra vigilant soldier might find him while he was busy with his work.

That was the trouble with his line of work, his life. While he served a master that granted him abilities that no mere mortal could ever hope to comprehend in a lifetime, that did not mean complete protection. His work could be interrupted, he could be overwhelmed by idiotic do-gooders wanting to end his fun. Or perhaps loved ones seeking vengeance. It didn't matter. In the end, it was only a matter of time. It had happened before. It would happen again.

But not this time.

There was an audible snap. Looking down, Veltor noticed that the knife had lodged into his hand. He hadn't quite sliced through, but it was close. He had made a diagonal cut from one corner of his hand to the other. It appeared to be hopelessly ruined, four of his fingers practically dangling, held in place only by a few sinews of flesh.

Such sweet agony. Such incredible sensation. It was all Veltor could do to keep from screaming. But he wasn't finished yet. With one deft movement, he removed the knife from where it was lodged before jabbing it into his wrist.

And this was what he had been waiting for. The pain reached it's crescendo, a high note that could no longer be ignored. Veltor gave into the sensation, loosing his emotions with his voice, screaming and laughing all at once. He had achieved perfection.

None too soon, either. Another noise from the darkness, a high pitched shriek followed by a heavy thump and a whimper. It sounded as though flesh had struck stone. Likely Piptip, the useless imp, which reminded him of another small green worthless minion that had failed him. That idiot, Pizzel, would have nothing more to do with Veltor's scheme. Though whether that was out of a new misguided sense of morality or loyalty or simply because of his already tenuous grasp on reality had shattered, Veltor couldn't say.

It did not matter. There was always a Plan B.

Kogrona was there. Just out of his sight. More than likely, she was wondering why he was screaming. Though he still couldn't see her, he knew she was there. And she wouldn't move in, not yet.

“Look at what I've done to myself!” Veltor lifted his now ruined hand into the air, staring at it, half admiring his own handiwork. Even on himself, he could achieve such wonders. His hand looked as though it were about to fall apart. The fingers dangled uselessly, curled toward Veltor's face. He must have severed a few nerves, because he couldn't even move them. “At least I'm no hypocrite, eh? I do do unto others what I do to myself. And I'm no good on my own! Where, oh where, can I find good help at this hour?!”

The orc had shifted in her position, Veltor could sense it. She was uncomfortable. She wasn't sure what he was playing at. And now she knew that he had been expecting her.

He gave her a few moments, waiting for a response. There was none. Just silence. Aside from the steady trickle of blood dripping to the floor from his hand, and the intense pain that was now coursing through his arm. Beautiful, that's what it was.

“Oh, don't be shy, Kogrona.” Veltor extended his mangled hand in the direction of the orc woman. He might have beckoned her over with his fingers, were they still working. They were not. Even so, he was reasonably certain that she'd get that idea. While her intelligence left much to be desired, she wasn't quite THAT stupid. “Come! Join me! We haven't had a nice conversation in...” Veltor paused, lowering his head in thought. “How long has it been now?”

Still no answer. Veltor brought his head back up, waiting for her move. Nothing.

Veltor shifted his weight from one foot to the other before speaking again. “I have to admit, you're getting better. I'm a bit nervous now, you're unnerving me.” Veltor lifted up his good hand above his head, leaving it suspended in the air for a moment before bringing it down with force against the ruined hand. A resounding clap echoed through the chamber, the force of the impact shooting a fresh wave of pain through his hand.

He had thought Kogrona would have said something by this point. Some ridiculous insult or a pointless threat. Perhaps even some semi-heroic monologue, though that didn't seem much like her. Instead, she was silent. As he waited, he resumed his slow and steady clap, each connection sending pain shooting through his arm.

As far as Veltor could tell, she had remained right where she was when he had first detected her. It was true that he still couldn't see her, but Veltor's senses on the whole were unusually sharp. He trusted them absolutely. They had saved him on more than one occasion.

“Kogrona, my dear, speak up!” Veltor encouraged her. “There's no reason to be afraid. We have a history together! Why, I'd sooner hurt you than I would....”

A sudden sharp blow to the back of his head cut him off in mid sentence. Staggering forward, Veltor tried to come to grips with what had happened. Had she somehow gotten behind him? He had never detected any movement, and he didn't think it were possible for her to circumvent him without his knowledge.

After he had sufficiently recovered his wits, Veltor turned to face whatever had struck him. He was just about to open his mouth to say something when a leather clad boot slammed into his face with such force that he was propelled through the air, sailing back into the corridor from which he had assumed she was waiting for him. He landed on the hand that he had just mutilated, shrieking as he continued to roll down the corridor.

Before he had even stopped rolling, he felt something heavy slam into his chest, pinning him to the ground. Veltor didn't even bother to struggle.

Veltor's position, as well as the position of the attacker and the lighting of the room, allowed him to get a better look at the one who had assaulted him. He was now staring up at a very unamused orc woman with her boot lodged in his middle. Looking up into the face of his now visible attacker, his lips curled into a smile before he burst into a loud cackle. The pressure on his chest increased, indicating that Kogrona didn't much care for the humor that he found in the situation. As she pressed down harder against him with his boot, he only was able to manage a gasping wheezing laugh, which he supposed had much less of the desired effect. Still, Kogrona's eyes narrowed, and her frown widened.

Perhaps it was working after all.

For the first time since she'd arrived, she spoke. “I've got you.” She moved her hands down to the twin daggers hanging by her side, drawing them out of their sheathes, all the while keeping Veltor immobile on the floor. Veltor did not give her a response. He merely grinned at her. It came as a small surprise to him when Kogrona grinned back. It then seemed less of a surprise when she ground her boot as hard as she could into his chest, emitting an audible snap as his ribs were crushed.

He wasn't laughing anymore. Now it was all he could do just to cough. It was still sort of a laugh, but he doubted that Kogrona would recognize it as one. This was a little different than he had anticipated. He had expected her to be more curious, or to draw it out a little longer. The way things were going, she really was going to kill him, and all without ever allowing him to speak.

This was most unfortunate. Veltor prided himself in his ability to read people, to predict what they were going to do. It was how he had survived for so long. He knew exactly what people were going to do, how they were going to do it, and the reason why, all far in advance of it actually happening. He was usually right about these sorts of things. And he had been certain that Kogrona would have allowed a conversation between them. Was he losing his touch?

“I'm ending this.” Veltor blinked in surprise as Kogrona spoke. He was glad she was talking again, that meant he might survive for a few moments longer, but there was something in her voice, something that he had not expected. He couldn't quite identify what it was.

“You're a monster, Veltor,” she continued, not even making the slightest attempt to conceal her loathing of him. “I should have killed you a long time ago.”

Veltor knew he had to speak, and fast. Grunting and lifting up his hands in surrender, he gasped for breath. She'd really hurt him. He had to struggle to get any words out. She allowed him to move, her eyes tracking everything carefully. He finally managed to get some words out. “I don't want to harm you, Kogrona. You're too...”

“It's not about me!” She snarled, bringing her foot against his chest in another forceful kick, knocking the wind out of him. “I know what you're doing! I'm not stupid! I've been looking around, doing my own investigating.” She pressed down against him with her foot. “I know that you're planning on doing something to the Grim.”

“Let me explain...” Veltor gasped.

Snarling, Kogrona released Veltor from under her foot. Before Veltor could rise up, Kogrona had dropped to one knee, grabbing hold of the collar of Veltor's robe with one hand and jerking him forward. In the same motion, she brought her other fist against his face. Veltor both felt and heard the crack as they collided, and at almost the same moment felt the back of his head slam into the cold stone floor beneath him.

The pain was incredible. He felt woozy. It had been ages since he had felt woozy. His vision had begun to blur. He was no longer so certain as to whether he would survive this encounter or not.

“I'm done letting you explain things.” Kogrona grabbed hold of his shoulders and shook him back and forth. He didn't even bother trying to resist. “If I let you explain, you'd just twist things around, manipulate me like you did before. You'd make my head hurt and I wouldn't know what to do.” She eased up on him for a moment, and he looked up into her face.

“Mercy,” He managed to choke out, “I just want...mercy...” He started coughing, spitting up blood.

At last, he managed to make Kogrona hesitate. She stared down at him, unmoving, still gripping the collar of his robe. He writhed beneath her, gasping occasionally, his breath rattling as it escaped from his broken body. With great reluctance, Kogrona finally let him go, slowly rising to her feet, then offering him her hand.

Wincing, Veltor raised his mangled hand, extending it toward Kogrona. Without batting an eye, Kogrona grabbed hold of his hand and wrenched him forward. He had not even fully gotten to his feet when he felt something sharp against his chest. Gasping, he looked down, his eyes widening as he saw the blade that Kogrona had held, buried to the hilt in Veltor's chest. Slowly, he raised his head to look at Kogrona's face. She was smiling at him. She let go of his hand, and within a moment later, he felt another pain in his back. She had stuck both of her daggers in him.

“It's over, Veltor.” Kogrona shook her head. “I should have done this a long time ago.”

Veltor opened and closed his mouth, emitting a choked gasp. He was mouthing something to her.

“Trying to speak, huh?” Kogrona's smile widened. “You do this to so many people, and you can't take it for yourself. It's about time.” She leaned closer to him. Her smile was that of triumph. She knew she had won. That he was a dead man. “What are you trying to say? Maybe I can remember your last words.”

And for that single moment, she lowered her guard. This is what he had been waiting for. “Got you.” He whispered.

Kogrona looked confused, but only for a moment. There wasn't time for anything else. She hadn't noticed him reaching into his robes with his one good hand. And she never saw the little red crystal until it was already touching her face. Her eyes widened, and she immediately yanked out the daggers that she had pierced Veltor with, twisting her body away from him and planting a firm kick right into his face, forcing him away from her. She stumbled backwards, her eyes fixed on him, smoldering with hatred.

But then she froze. Her expression changed. Her face became filled with fear, rather than anger. Her hands dropped to her sides, the twin daggers dropping to the floor with a clang. She stared wordlessly at Veltor, her mouth wide open in shock.

Of course, Veltor knew she wasn't really looking at him. She wasn't looking at anything anymore, not anything part of this world.

She brought her hands up in a panic, screaming, then fell backwards. Tears began to stream down her face. “Please!” She begged. “No! Don't hurt me! I won't...get away from me! You can't...someone, help me!” Shrieking and wailing at the top of her lungs, she fell to the floor and curled up into a ball, rocking herself back and forth. Loud and frantic screams pierced the air every few moments.

Veltor didn't know exactly what memories she was reliving. Nor did he care. It had immobilized her for the time being, and that would give him time to work. Though he did have some inkling of what she was going through. In all likelihood, the very memories she had begged him to remove all those years ago, the very reason that she had so willingly given him a piece of her soul. The reason she had worked with him for so long, despite the nature of the jobs that he'd have her do. The reason why she allowed so many to die at his hands without ever lifting a finger.

So which memories of the ones he had removed from her then? Who could say? It was quite a chunk of memories that she'd wanted taken away from her. Though he suspected he knew the nature of what she was suffering, at the very least.

“You're so fortunate, girl.” He waggled his finger at her, then clucked his tongue. “So fortunate that I have such use for you. But now I've got to go through all this trouble, see!” He started counting off with his fingers all the things that he would have to do. “I've got to move your body, find a new home for myself, take account of all the minions you dropped.” He sighed. “Then I've got to reorganize your memories ever so slightly.”

Veltor dropped to one knee beside the orc. It wouldn't much matter what he did at this point. He couldn't pull her out of her little dream world if he wanted to. She'd be trapped there for quite some time. He ran one of his hands through her hair. That caused a fresh wave of screams, and she began to thrash and writhe frantically. Veltor shook his head. “After everything I've done for you too. I made the bad memories go away, didn't I? I took you in, gave you work. A pity you didn't stay.” He sighed. “And look at how you repay me!”

Veltor shook his head. “I'll have to send you back to the Grim sooner or later. And you'll tell them what you remember.” Grinning, he pulled the small red gem out of his robes once again. “And since you gave me a piece of your soul quite willingly all those years ago, it's not so hard to alter some of these memories, now, is it? We're connected, you and I. Isn't that just lovely?” Veltor cackled, then tossed the gem to himself, catching it with his other hand.

“Ah!” He exclaimed, admiring the hand that he had caught the soul-gem with. It was in perfect condition, without a single scratch on it. He had full feeling once again and could run the gem through his fingers with ease. And to think that only moments ago, it had been mangled beyond belief! He didn't even need to bother checking the other wounds that Kogrona had given him. There would not be a trace of them remaining. There never was.

Oh, how he loved what he was.

Glancing back down at Kogrona, he smiled as he noticed her shuddering on the ground. She wasn't screaming anymore. Just crying, sobbing, and gasping. Pathetic really. But he supposed he couldn't blame her. After all, he hadn't merely given the memories back to her. He'd done that years ago, back when she'd left his employ the first time. No, no, no, he had instead forced her to completely relive them. It would be as though she were there all over again, re-experiencing each horror for the first time.

And you never forget your first time. Just that thought made Veltor chuckle for a while, his laughter mixing in with the orc woman's screams of anguish.

It was beautiful. Fascinating. Veltor wanted to just watch her for a while, observe the terror and pain as it overcame her. The true beauty was that Veltor could watch all the symptoms that his work normally inflicted upon his patients, only this time without even having to lift a finger.

In a few moments, he'd have to get busy. Kogrona would need to be dragged to a safe location, he could use one of his minions for that. He had to relocate, his current lair was no longer safe. After all, even he made mistakes. There was no telling what would slip through Kogrona's mind, and he had to make himself scarce, just in case. Besides, his current location was feeling a bit stale at this point. He hadn't moved on in months, which was unusual. A change in scenery would do him good.

And he had to prepare for the inevitability of Lilliana's arrival. After all, that was the point of the whole operation. Kogrona didn't know it, and wouldn't for some time, but she was about to become instrumental in bringing Lilliana to Veltor. With any luck, it would be without any other member of the Grim having any idea of what had happened. Failing that, he would be quite satisfied if she bore the brunt of the blame. Might be fun to watch.

It all depended on that little red shard. So long as no one meddled with the thing, all would be well with them. But as Kogrona's memories would overwhelm and consume her, they would detect that there was a problem. Of course, once this little spell was over and she returned to the Grim, she might seem normal enough for a while, though perhaps a little confused. But with time, it would grow worse. More and more fits, screaming in the night, waking nightmares, the slow plunge into insanity. Her mind would torment her. Sooner or later, one of them would remember that little red shard that he had given as a gift some time ago. Someone would try to use it, maybe to help her, or maybe just to keep her in line. It wouldn't matter the reason, so long as they used it. Or touched it. Or even breathed on the thing. Now that everything was in place, the slightest touch would trigger the effect, what he had made the shard for in the first place.

And that's all he would need.

((I love it! And poor Kogrona! And poor Lilly, for that matter! What a troublesome undead fellow!!!)