The words echoed in the stone chamber there in lower reaches of the twisted manor of Wraithspire. Come to your servant, my Lord. The request begged in hissing tones from a figure crouched upon the cold concrete floor.
A thin layer of the purest white was the only protection between raw ebony flesh and the rough-grain surface of the chilling stone. Stretched out in complete supplication the priestess had been praying for the better part of two hours. A strange metal device was wrapped around a dark thigh with moist markings of blood along its steel grooves. The runes would heal the wound once the priestess had experienced enough pain to be considered appropriate in her act of self cleansing, but for the moment the razor-edged blades would be allowed to remain in the flesh of her leg.
It had been three days since Sairin last slept or eaten. The priestess refused to show any signs of exhaustion or speak of her current state. Nails groped along the rough grain of the concrete and head bowed one final time before the young drowess rose from her place upon the floor. Hands gripped the metal latch of the torture-device around her right leg and the darkness opened to accept her scream as it was yanked along with a bit of flesh from her thigh. The blood began to flow freely again and strange moonstone chain was fastened around her ankle. Sairin's beaten body shook a moment with anguish.
The servant assigned to her by the dark Lord Veighn came to assist the priestess in her dressing. A tough garment of brown leather and mithril grommeting was fastened securely around her torso and boots of similar making laced tightly. The priestess rose and moved to the adjoining room to fetch the expertly fashioned spear she would use on hunting ventures. The lady at her side made mention that Mal'aile, the ferocious winged-beast who served as Sairin's mount, had been saddled and awaited the drowess's bidding outside the east wing.
Today the drowess would fight and, once the chosen victims had fallen and their entrails had been consumed by the savage dragon, Sairin would return to find the peace of sleep and the comfort of nourishment.
"Lord, let my ears be filled with the sweet screams of my victims. May I pierce their hearts with the full of my blade and be blessed with the bulk of their blood upon my sleeve. Let them cower in the mention of your name and be hastened to the realm where they might know the pleasure of serving you."
A thin layer of the purest white was the only protection between raw ebony flesh and the rough-grain surface of the chilling stone. Stretched out in complete supplication the priestess had been praying for the better part of two hours. A strange metal device was wrapped around a dark thigh with moist markings of blood along its steel grooves. The runes would heal the wound once the priestess had experienced enough pain to be considered appropriate in her act of self cleansing, but for the moment the razor-edged blades would be allowed to remain in the flesh of her leg.
It had been three days since Sairin last slept or eaten. The priestess refused to show any signs of exhaustion or speak of her current state. Nails groped along the rough grain of the concrete and head bowed one final time before the young drowess rose from her place upon the floor. Hands gripped the metal latch of the torture-device around her right leg and the darkness opened to accept her scream as it was yanked along with a bit of flesh from her thigh. The blood began to flow freely again and strange moonstone chain was fastened around her ankle. Sairin's beaten body shook a moment with anguish.
The servant assigned to her by the dark Lord Veighn came to assist the priestess in her dressing. A tough garment of brown leather and mithril grommeting was fastened securely around her torso and boots of similar making laced tightly. The priestess rose and moved to the adjoining room to fetch the expertly fashioned spear she would use on hunting ventures. The lady at her side made mention that Mal'aile, the ferocious winged-beast who served as Sairin's mount, had been saddled and awaited the drowess's bidding outside the east wing.
Today the drowess would fight and, once the chosen victims had fallen and their entrails had been consumed by the savage dragon, Sairin would return to find the peace of sleep and the comfort of nourishment.
"Lord, let my ears be filled with the sweet screams of my victims. May I pierce their hearts with the full of my blade and be blessed with the bulk of their blood upon my sleeve. Let them cower in the mention of your name and be hastened to the realm where they might know the pleasure of serving you."