"Until this moment, I never understood how hard it was to lose something you never had." - Oscar Wilde
"Show a person what could have been, and they yearn for it all the greater..." Nekusar hissed to his lieutenant."...And the worse the sting when you take it all away," he finished, inspecting a jar of marvelous craft.
"So, what are your commands, my liege?" Asked Chainer, hoping to get out of this dusty old tower and get to some real work.
"Ah yes, the plan," replied Nekusar, setting down the jar. "Go find my jailer, he has in his custody one who serves a great enemy of mine. Jostle around his mind a bit. If he can't remember the information we want, force it out."
"Yes, my liege," Chainer sighed. While he did enjoy probing through the memories of prisoners, he still wished he could be doing it elsewhere. This castle made even him unsettled.
As he left, Chainer noticed Nekusar begin eyeing his jar once again. "I wonder what that thing even does," he thought to himself. "Must be pretty powerful to occupy a king like Nekusar."
As he walked down from the top of the tower, Chainer noted the dreary scenery that surrounded his lord's tower. Mostly just putrid swamps for miles and miles. Off in the distance there stood some mountains and far to the south was an expansive sea. This was the border between Nekusar and Zedruu the Greathearted's kingdom. Zedruu had repeated refused Nekusar's demands. Throughout his entire life, all Nekusar had sought was a single flower, made entirely out of metal but of such grade no human hands could have created it, the Gilded Lotus.
Looking out at the full moon above the dank water, the landscape reflected much of his master: dark, cold, deadly. Chainer couldn't help but feel the same way himself. He descended further, below ground.
The door creaked open to the jailhouse, and Chainer poked his head in. One of Nekusar's many undead guards was watching over the prisoners.
"Be careful..." it hissed. "thissss one is much more ressisstant than the otherssss." It pointed to the various corpses chained from the ceiling, other foes that had not taken well to Chainer's intrusions. "The
Skullcage
, the Black Vise, and the
Iron Maiden
. All ssusstained without a word..."
Chainer moved up to the old man, his hair grey with age and wisdom. He had a stern look on his face. "I will never tell anything to the likes of you," the old man calmly said, an air of confidence in his voice.
"We shall see..." Chainer replied absent-mindedly. They always started out cocky enough, but he felt this one wouldn't last for long.
Chainer focused himself, and drawing up memories of places he had been- a mass grave, dubbed the "Watery Grave" at the edge of these lands where the the swamp meets the sea- he began to weave his spell and delve into the mind of the old man.
Chainer had not prepared himself for what had found him. A great well of knowledge, greater than anything he had ever seen before. A story swirling around him that spanned years, decades, aeons. After what seemed like a thousand lifetimes, Chainer got his bearings.
It was near impossible to find the information, and he knew that. What Chainer hoped to find was something much different. What this man feared the most- to find what memories could torture this poor soul into giving up the information needed to please his master.
It seems this man was a scholar of sorts, and had done lots of research into a strange land. Grease and oil covered the ground, the sky remained dim, and monstrosities comprised of metal fused with flesh walked amongst the filth.
"Bingo," thought Chainer. He had found what he needed.
Chainer found the terrain terrifically terrifying. It leered back with grease-covered eyes, glaring straight into the soul. He ended his spell with a snap of his fingers and a quick verse- "tantibus!"
Now, he worked on his next spell. He thought to a land in which he had studied before-
Urborg
. In a castle surrounded by stirring lava, Chainer had earned the art that gave him his title.
Before the old man grew and endless expanse of filthy, living land. It's eyes staring straight at him. From a pool of grease rose in the air a distorted form. It mocked the old man incessantly, demanding information under the threat of endless torture.
The old man's eyes opened wide, and he caved. "Z-Zedruu knows of where the l-lotus is located.... please, just leave me alone!"
Chainer ended the spell and the man took a sigh of relief. "Thank you so very much for telling the truth. I'll let the jailer take care of you," he informed the man as he turned to the zombie. "You know what to do."
Chainer's Edict
was always the same: Death. The zombie nodded and as Chainer closed the door another decoration was added to the dungeon.
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