111th of Vhalar 721
As the Shadowhound's jaws closed in around his left arm, tightening and piercing the dermis of his tentacle appendage, Rakvald reflected that perhaps chasing wolves halfway across Etzori territory for the better part of Vhalar hadn't been the best idea. He thought maybe, self-doubt creeping into his processes for the first time, that he could've thought of better ways to spend his time in this new landscape.
Nevertheless, his arm was firmly entrenched in the creature's bite, and he was sure he'd lose his arm into the bargain, so best to make the most of it.
He snarled at the beast, showing a mix of defiance and ferocity toward the creature, and punching it in the muzzle with his one good arm. Turns out, this wasn't the best thing to do while still held firmly in its grip, as it bite down deeper into his arm. Rakvald screeched as the hound shook his tentacle, as if trying to break a small creature's neck.
The thing was huge, bigger than any wolf had a right to be. Bigger than the Dubaebo certainly, even, although they shared a certain similar shadowy appearance.
He would've loved normally to admire the beast, but having his arm stuck firmly in its jaw made that difficult.
"Get offer me!" Rakvald screeched at the beast.
Suddenly, the shadowhound's jaw went slack, and Rakvald's eyes widened in surprise. Then, he put on an air of self-assurance. "Uh, yeah, of course you'd obey my command. Now roll over, that's a good trick!"
"He's a Shadowhound, not a small pet dog, for performing parlor tricks to amuse guests." A voice came from behind Rakvald. The mage took down his cowl, and turned around to see the man standing there. A man flanked on both sides by shadowhounds every bit as imposing as the one that had accosted Rakvald. "And they only obey my commands, anyway." He said with wry amusement.
Rakvald sniffed, and cradled his poor tentacle arm, willing the flesh to knit while he recovered his wits about this situation. Obviously, he was outclassed here, both as a master of beasts and in the manner this situation that had befallen him. "Uh, I had him right where I wanted him! You were about to witness a fucking awesome comeback!"
"No doubt. Now, as I've little time to waste on banter, you'll fall in line behind me, and follow. Rakvald."
How did this guy know his name? Rakvald stood to his feet, shakily somewhat, and then began following sullenly behind him. The shadowhound that had wrestled with him kept a close watch on him, growling whenever he lagged in his pace. Rakvald tried to talk to the guy on the way to wherever they were headed, but all his questions and comments appeared to fall on deaf ears.
Until they came to an area with a waterfall, and a cavern beneath it. A hidden fortress of sorts. Kinda cool. Rakvald always wanted a hidden lair or stronghold. He wondered who called this place their own. "Where is this place? And who runs this show?"
"Lord Vuda formerly, but we haven't heard from him in some time. For now, you'll be dealing with Shieldarm Bassett."
So saying, the shadowhound growled, urging Rakvald onward into the carved out fortress. What choice had he but to enter or be chewed up and spat out by an overlarge hound?
The bits that followed his apprehension by the Houndmaster, his wounds continued to knit carefully shut. Canine bites were difficult to heal under normal circumstances, and arcane healing was no exception. Too much ether channeled into the wound too fast could cause the wound to heal in gnarly ways, crossing veins or nerve endings, and generally making the problem worse. Worse yet was the threat of overstepping, and the fact that Rakvald had to deal with the Thirst.
So he took his time, and paid no heed to the droplets of blood that followed in his wake as he passed under the waterfall leading into the carved out fortress. He was greeted at the other end but an officious-looking military type. He introduced himself straightaway, and appeared to have been expecting Rakvald. "Good morning, I'm Shieldarm Bassett. You'll follow me now..."
So saying, they were led into the office of the Shieldarm, which was conveniently close to the entrance of the place. Once there, he gestured for Rakvald to stand before his desk, as he rifled through some files. He turned over the parchment, and furrowed his brow as he looked at it, then to Rakvald, and back again. "So, it's interesting that we should meet this way. We were commissioned to find a rogue becomer in the wilderness some time ago. Something about a double axe murder in Lowgarden. And a string of disappearances into the bargain. Although we can't pin the latter on you, the Modus Operandi seems similar to something a man of your talents might employ. Bodies fed to alligators, meticulous cleanups of gruesome crime scenes... Yes."
"I didn't do nothing." Rakvald insisted, crossing his arms and wincing as his wound chaffed against his one good arm. "Anyway, you can't pin that on me. I'm innocent!"
"This is serious." Bassett said, not amused in the least by Rakvald's protests. "It's important that we have good information. Such a commodity is in low supply these days. You did kill that couple in Lowgarden, but we don't believe you're responsible for the other disappearances... I can just as easily send you back to Etzos for execution, if you'd like?"
There was no answer from Rakvald, who was shocked that he'd even suggest a thing as parting his pretty head from his magnificent body.
"As I thought. So, now that you're here, we have many uses for men of your talents. As a mage, you'll be in the remit of Batttlemage Morgue. He'll figure out the best way to deal with you. Don't make us regret this mercy..."
Rakvald huffed, and sighed. "So what, I'm a prisoner?"
"How you view your new 'service' is your own prerogative. If you want to be miserable, feel free to think of yourself as such. Or you can see this as the golden opportunity to continue living, all while pursuing your obvious interest in arcane phenomenon."
This part had piqued Rakvald's interest. He quirked a brow, "Arcane phenomenon. What do you mean?"
Bassett shook his head, and shuffled the files on Rakvald. "I don't have time to discuss this. Fall in line, and meet with Battlemage Morgue directly. He will bring you up to speed. Do you agree, or shall I have the Houndmaster remand you to Blackguard custody?"
Rakvald's scowl darkened, and for a moment he pondered his chances against the warrior. However, something, perhaps cowardice or caution, stayed his hand. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad here. He'd give it a shot. "Alright. Maybe I'll learn a thing or two eh?"
Bassett nodded, and waved a soldier in to escort Rakvald. "Escort this mage to Morgue, soldier. That is all."
On the way to... wherever this 'Battlemage' was holed up, Rakvald thought several times he could take the soldier escorting him. He could probably make it as far as a few miles outside of the fortress, and then sprint for freedom. But then, he didn't like his chances of evading capture by those Shadowhounds. So the idea of getting brought back in disgrace and possibly sent on to Etzos for execution wasn't appealing.
In short time, anyway, Rakvald was escorted to another office, this one decked out with all manner of arcane paraphernalia, tomes and trinkets. The soldier left him there, and Rakvald had to wonder only a few moments if he was alone before 'Morgue' emerged from seemingly thin air. The man wore a cowl that obscured his face, and he seemed to stare out from beneath the cowl into Rakvald's eyes. Rakvald blinked a few times, somewhat uncomfortable with the silence.
After a bit or so, the battlemage finally spoke, "You'll do well enough. It's rare we find mages as powerful as you simply blundering into our midst. You may be a benefit, you may be a asset. But more than that, you'll benefit arcanically from your time here." Morgue assured him. Rakvald found this one a bit more encouraging than the others so far. As the last of his wounds were knitted up in the bits following, Rakvald was instructed to report to the smith to get himself armed and armored. "Brock will set you up. Any questions?"
Rakvald thought on it for a few seconds, "Yeah, how do you plan on using me here? What good am I to you?"
Morgue shrugged, and with a humorless tone, "We'll be driving you into minor fractures, to retrieve wells. Should you become powerful enough as a transmuter, you'll be expected to contribute even further to well production."
Rakvald gulped. Fractures? He'd never been in one of those before!
