The finest specimen. Yes she was. Her eyes closed softly, as if in prayer, her body still, as if dead. Blood had dried around her wrists where she had struggled, and the spikes from the choker on her neck had crimson mattered fur around the tips. Yet she was beautiful, youth in her body and vitality within her soul. He reached out a hand to caress her face, feeling the contours of her skull and noticing the specification of furrikin she had become, some sort of fox creature with hints of a wolf, if he was to guess.

 

He had stripped her down, adding to the humiliation, but he had stopped now before she was bare. In the days of old, he'd strip them naked, hang them in display, and do things to them. When his nephew, a keen practitioner of Lady Nifilhema's skill, visited, he gave Marcus such deranged, yet fascinating, ideas. None of those sort, for rape of any sort was forbidden. We weren't savages. But pain through pleasure, abusing the body for our own ends, that was different.

 

Maybe he'd kiss them, touch them, but no that had stopped. He was married now, and oh wasn't that rich. He, a husband, suffering all his life, hating all but his brother. She had not objected much to his practices, but put her foot down where touching was concerned in regards to personal or sensitive areas.

 

Fine by him. His sex drive was non-existent ever since he had castrated myself, getting rid of carnal desires to fornicate and spread his seed. Rape, and certain sexual endeavours left a sour note in anyone's mouth. Still, he could caress, and feel. The muscles in her arms, the taut lean legs. Healthy, and fit, which was important to him. No, really, it was. So bereft of beauty himself, he admired those with it in honour of his Lady Drocilla. He was about to start cutting when he realised she was speaking, and brought himself out of his reverie.

 

"Where am I…" she murmured groggily, flickering her eyes open and looking around. He debated it, then removed his mask, and let her see what was behind it. She recoiled, crying out in fear at his scarred face, the white trails that were the remains of his melted eyeballs, and the tainted veins that gave it his skin an eldritch look. He leaned back, enjoying her terror, and put the mask back on.

 

"It will come to you in time" explained Marcus, patting her on the head. He looked at her eyes, waiting for the moment, and licked his lips as it came. The realisation, the stark terror, and the acceptance. Faces were such an orchestra, perhaps he could remove them, add some magic and make them sing? Must discuss it with a Cacophonist. "Feeling a bit sore?"

 

The furrikin struggled a little, then winced as she felt painfully rough around her form. "What… a prison… I'm in a prison, it hurts… what's this…?" she added, looking at the white substance spattered over her stomach and legs.

 

"Oh, well, I brought in two orclach and they, well, let us say they did things you don't want to know. I told them not to get to into it so they instead… finished, shall we say, over your body instead."

 

Katrina gasped, recoiling in disgust at the thought of her nice fur, kept so clean, covered in a sticky mass of-she couldn't even think of it. "You… why?! You monster!"

 

Marcus paused, and then burst out laughing. Katrina became infuriated despite her situation, and screamed, and bit, and struggled, wanting to murder this man who had damaged her body. "Oh that is classic. So good! Don't worry, it was just a little joke. It's regeneration on your fur, not… ahahaha! Your face, oh that was good!"

 

The furrikin gaped, noticing the consistency and seeing he spoke truth. "You asshole, why would you-"

 

He silenced her with a slap that stung like a cold wind. "Manners, or I shall cut out your tongue!" He waved a scalpel around, and it slipped from his fingers to impale her palm. She yelped in pain, and he tsked as if admonishing a small child. "See what you made me do?" he giggled, and took it out. She whimpered, seeing him for what he really was. Not sick, or demented but truly insane.

 

Believe it or not, torture could get boring if you didn't bring imagination into it once in a while. "Of course I would not do that. What sort of savage do you think I am? Aside from the fact rape is an abominable practice, I would be slaughtered by the women I hold dear to my heart. I guess it surprises you to see someone like me have standards, huh? Still, just because I torture people, kill people and destroy their minds does not mean I advocate such things. Oh, where are my manners." He gestured to the blood stained room. Magic sizzled gently around the heavy stone blocks sealed with tainted cement.

 

"Welcome to d'Lardick prison! I am your warden, interrogator, jailer, torture technician, basically I do everything here. I even sweep the floors, let me tell you. Well, I have to, novices vomit whenever they get told to clean the rooms when I'm done with them. Then they have to clean it again, which just goes to show you that karma works! Where was I. Oh yes" rattled on Marcus, using the tip of the scalpel to pluck holes in Katrina's skin. She winced, her cries of pain exhausted from her. "Forgive the talking, i've just spent three weeks in exile, again, you understand, so I need to make up for lost time!"

 

"Making a good start of it then with a voice like that" retorted Katrina, then closed her mouth tightly, whimpering at what she had just said. But it was just in her nature. She hated grandstanders, hated the arrogant, but she would have to be smarter. Marcus tilted his head, and removed his mask. The nightmarish visage returned, and she struggled, something poking at her mind and bringing up her worst fears.

 

Marcus put the golden artefact aside, and Katrina whined softly at the thought of seeing it again. She shut her eyes, hoping perhaps she'd be allowed that small mercy. But no, he had gripped her face and put a gag across it. Breathing only through her nose now, and a bit confused, she took in deep breaths. "Open your eyes" ordered the deep voice, laden with madness and entropy. She shook her head defiantly, and there was silence. Then he pinched her nose.

 

She bucked. Katrina couldn't help it, she needed air, just a moment of it, just a quick breath. Her hands instinctively reached up but they were tied down of course, fur dirtied and unkempt as her body exploded in movement. Her focus slipped so she opened her eyes, seeing nothing in the empty orbs. Katrina tried to do something, anything, but she began to fade from lack of oxygen, memories of her parents and sister floating to her mind. She didn't want to die here, not in this smelly place, not in front of this horrific torturer, please, any God, just help her, please, anything.

 

Then he removed the gag and she took in such a deep breath she coughed a little. A moment later he removed the hand, and she retched into a coughing fit. It took her a moment to remember how to breathe. In and in, or out and out, wasn't it? Eventually she got it down, and lay back, exhausted. "Disobey me again, and see what I do next."

 

"I see spirit in you. A spirit reminiscent of the Twelve as they faced the joke of a court, those false judges, and stood proudly in what they did. For that, you may have a minute to speak frankly. I will not punish you for anything you say during it."

 

He sat down on a chair, and put his mask back on, giving her such a huge sense of relief it was almost euphoric. "You disgust me. I hate you, and I hope your death is slow and painful. You are a sick, twisted thing, deserving of nothing but ridicule and spite" spat Katrina defiantly, and waited. "What would you know of art, of beauty, huh? All you do is destroy like the rest of your kind!" Marcus said nothing still, and held up a hand to signify the minute was up.

 

"Quite a tirade. An unoriginal one at that. Allow me to show you what my 'kind' can create." A shimmer appeared in the air, and the Enginseer reached into it to withdraw a long smooth object. Thinking it a bludgeon, she braced herself, and then blinked in perplexity. It was a golden flute, crafted with such care she was in awe. "More than just this however. Listen, and learn."

 

A moment's pause, and a deep breathe, and Marcus put the flute to his mouth, sliding it gently through the mouth hole in his mask, fingers moving deftly across the metal. His breath sang through the instrument, and she wept. It was beautiful, it was heartfelt. Katrina had only heard something like that before in a Hallifaxian opera, or an angelic choir.

 

He had played with, fucked with her mind, tortured her. But she could not help but marvel at how he handled the instrument, how his mechanical hands moved across it with such skill. When he stopped, she was mesmerised. He nodded slowly, and she thought he was smiling beneath the mask.

 

"You… you could be revered by so many, not just the morbid associates around you. You have a skill, and yet… why? Why torture me, why do these things?" whispered the furrikin, the enormity of her situation crashing down upon her.

 

"Are you trying to appeal to my better nature? Are you of the mind that you can change me, that your heartfelt words will make me repent? Perhaps you are no different from the others, and I should just perform a cacophony with your body. I hear the popping of an arm can create quite an introduction." In a fell swoop he grabbed it and began to twist.

 

"PLEASE DON'T!" shouted Katrina, and he looked at her with a sadistic grin. "You have the mind of a human, untethered, and yet you torture, destroy, and limit yourself. Why? You don't NEED the taint" enquired the furrikin urgently, looking up into the eyes that weren't there, only metallic lenses.

 

"You're trying to appeal to my better nature?" he laughed, intrigued despite himself and tore off a strip of skin. Her scream was held back, eyes focused on his damaged face.

 

"No. I stand by my statement earlier. When you played your flute however… I saw it was not as simple as that. Did someone hurt you?" she asked, and then quailed in fear, his hands beginning to shake. Quickly she tried to save herself. "I've always respected humans, never seeking glory, never trying to make a place in history. Some would say that was weak, but I know better. You just want to survive, and let your race survive by remaining neutral. Brave, not weak!" gabbled Katrina, trailing off with a whimper at the sight of Marcus looming over her. The Enginseer punched his hapless victim in the head, sending her banging down hard against the metal table. She sobbed, feeling her brain rattle, and saw a metallic hand reach out.

 

A moment later it shot forwards and gripped her stomach. It pulled away, dragging out hairs and tearing the skin, causing Katrina to screech and quiver. He pulled another hunk of fur out, and twisted gently the next time, causing even more pain.

 

"IGNORANT! You know NOTHING!" roared Marcus, rats scurrying for cover and those above going back to their work, having trembled in fear at the noise. He slammed a palm into her gut and punched out several teeth, rampaging over her body before his hands came around and snapped her neck. In a moment there was excruciating pain than nothing. A moment later her body reformed itself under the shackles, leaving only a confused Katrina present. "Need to wait to feed you more vitae. Great isn't it? I can kill you again if you make another mistake! Tell me, what mistake did you make?!"

 

"Erm, ah, erm, I used a bad tone?"

 

"NO! Pity, and sadness. Obviously I am of the Taint because someone fucking hurt me, it's not because of by choice, no. It's not because of suffering, of necessity, of acceptance. Gods pity me, Marcus d'Lardick, oh how I suffer within the Taint. Waah waah please rescue me I don't know how to do it" spat and raged Marcus, spitting in her face. The skin sizzled from the taint within and then Marcus twisted an arm. "Such arrogance, such ignorance. That is what you did, that is what all your people do. Act like WE need YOU!"

 

Katrina was dazed, from being killed then being shouted at and with an arm broken. The pain came now, but she did her best to hide it. "I..."

 

"WE were FINE before Cosmic Hope. We had a shitty little Empire inbreeding but hey, we were fine. We were good. Then your lot poked Kethuru and ran. You brought this here, now you must accept the consequences of your actions like adults, and not try to pass it off as a mistake like a child, do you UNDERSTAND or do I need to take an eye."

 

"Yes, yes! I understand! Please don't take my eyes!!!"

 

"No, you don't. You are blinded by the sweet tender feelings of a lie. You think unpleasantness is false, that everything is naturally inclined to do good, but you are wrong. The truth is always unpleasant, that is what separates it from a lie. To know suffering is to know the truth, the truth of the world and the truth of existence. I know my way is the truth because it is unpleasant, because I do not enjoy it, or even find pleasure in it. That taste in our mouths like bile that has been gathered for millennia, a sensation that turns all food sour and all drink as dust. Accept this suffering, accept this! Deep in your soul it wishes to be freed!"

 

He looks at her with pity, and she looks perplexed in return, not knowing what he wants from her. "Is that sadness I see? Do you lament my history, what has happened? How dare you! You have no RIGHT to feel bad. Why can't you people understand!"

 

He slices an artery quicker than she can see, and it bleeds out onto the table. Katrina whimpers and struggles, yelping in distress as the pain gets worse. "Explain to me what is happening!"

 

"Please, stop, I can't… I'm feeling woozy…" murmured Katrina, and saw the knife come up again. "It… I'm bleeding out. You did something, I'm going to bleed to death. I'm going to die here, in this place, at your hand, that's what is happening you MONSTER!" yelled Katrina with the last ounce of her strength. Her consciousness flickered, then returned as he rubbed healing potion over her skin. Her face was pale, slowly regaining colour, and she sighed with relief.

 

"You are now feeling good, pleasant. You feel like everything will be OK, that you will be free. That is a lie! The pain you felt, that is truth!" crowed Marcus triumphantly, laughing to himself and spinning around. "That is our existence. What do you think?"

 

"Here is my truth. That I would rather accept a comfortable lie than an unpleasant truth. I do not seek the truth, I seek knowledge, I seek enjoyment, pleasure. So your words mean nothing, except to show me how insane you really are" cursed Katrina, looking down at the dried blood on her fur which stuck up in wet spikes. She hated him for that, for ruining her fur. It was the only thing she had inherited from her mother. It reminded Katrina of her true heritage, instead of the one belonging to her dreaded step-mother. How cliche that sounded, even to her.

 

"That is why you are weak. That is why you run from the Taint, afraid it will destroy you. Your kind view me as an abomination, an evil creature along with the rest of my brethren. Even the animals that are touched by the Taint are regarded differently. But no, the Taint did not make them that way. The Taint does not create. How can it? A force of pure destruction, rife with the energies of the excorable. Those animals it turned? The walrus with the tentacles, the gigantic snake? Nature made them that way, not the taint! It's in the nature of things to evolve and improve, to survive. When it is removed, the body compensates, and the cycle continues. Morgites speak of something similar."

 

"The taint destroys!" he exclaimed, and twisted her arm violently. It snapped, a piece of random bone sticking out of her skin, and she cried out in horror. "It eradicates, and if our mortal bodies are so easily to fail and destroy, they should not exist in the first place. The splintered Divine failed!"

 

He set her arm right again, and that hurt even more, her arm now need of serious repair. She turned her head to avoid a blast of corrosive fumes from his outburst, holding her breath. When she thought it was safer to breathe, she did, and answered. "Or maybe they expected better. Perhaps they could not understand the horror which the Taint brought."

 

"Then they were naive! You think Amberle and her lot were brave, strong, admirable for what they did? No! They were weak, and afraid of the Soulless. They died for nothing! Pointless principles which the Divine forgot in the end! That fear born of naivety resulted in them expelling the Twelve who worked the hardest in helping them survive! This is where you and your ilk come in, the same naive weaklings, the fear-stricken cowards, to think anything beautiful must be due to the Light, and anything else blasphemy. But no!"

 

He twisted her arm in another direction, destroying the connecting bones, and she cried out in pain, surprised. "Please… it hurts…"

 

"I am my own man. All of this you see before you is MY idea. MINE! I created all this prison, these walls. I designed and planned, I built and worked hard. The sweat of my brow, but Celest would claim it is because of the Light, of harmony, that it was possible. Such arrogance sickens me! You see, little ant, I can do this because o the Taint, instead of in spite of it. Boo hoo, it hurts, so what?!" he shouted, and she whimpered. "Perhaps I should do to you what I did to Ezekiel…"

 

She paled, and struggled harder as fresh tears formed. "No! Please, don't, don't do that. I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" cried the furrikin, blood welling up from where her ankle and wrists moved roughly against the shackles. Just as she had gotten used to the pain in her arm he slammed a fist down on it, shattering the remaining bones. Katrina cried now, tears flowing from her eyes. She wouldn't even be able to see the eyes of her killer, not with them hidden behind curtains of violet cloth. He said nothing, and she trembled, begging with all her breath for some mercy. She had nothing to lose, it-

 

"Say he deserved it."

 

"What?"

 

"Say 'Ezekiel deserved what happened to him.'"

 

She hesitated, closing her mouth tightly and shaking her head. She wouldn't mean it, but to even say it, or think about it.

 

"Fine then. I hope you enjoy diapers, because you'll need one, just like he did. You'll suffer for the rest of your life!" he yelled fanatically and with glee. A gigantic machete was raised, runes on the blade glowing faintly in the dim light.

 

"He deserved it! OK, OK, he deserved it! Ezekiel deserved what happened to him!" sobbed Katrina, and fell back, tired, and a bit relieved.

 

"I don't think you meant it. Oh well!"

 

He watched her scream in fear, and then laughed. She suddenly coughed, now just whimpering in defeat as blood and spittle was spat up. "Hmm, it appears you have torn your vocal cords with that scream" ruminated Marcus, and poured healing down her throat. "You are such an entertaining specimen" added the torturer as she drunk it desperately. "Here, I shall offer you a slight reprieve, because I know you did not intentionally insult me."

 

She whimpered as an attendant came over and used a bowl of water to wash down her fur around the shackles and apply healing to the wounds. Marcus had his back to her, rummaging in his toolbox. It was an actual toolbox, she noticed with horror, dirtied and bloodstained. "Ever seen a tanner at work?" asked the human as he picked out two instruments.

 

The attendant worked silently, and when the viscanti girl was done was done, she left without a word. Marcus turned at the sound of the door closing, smiling genially. Katrina shivered, and he sat back down, laying the machete on the table. He put a jar next to it and dipped a finger into the contents, lifting it. It looked like a type of… pasty substance? "Do you know what this is?"

 

Katrina shook her head, thankful he had decided to focus on something else and not completely ruin her life.

 

"It is called Kunaka paste. I got it from a bazar in the Czigany Wayfaire. From Jojoba, you know. When a tanner is dealing with cowhide, he must remove the hair, but sometimes it can be stubborn. Specialists use this instead. You apply the paste to any shaved area, and it stops any hair from growing. See where I'm going with this?"

 

The furrikingenuinely pondered this new information, then all colour drained from her face. "No…" she whispered, and struggled again. "You can't. That's… no! Please, don't make me hairless! That's barbaric!"

 

"Oh don't worry, once I've rearranged your insides, baldness will be the least of your problems."

 

"HOW COULD YOU?! What did I ever do to you?!"

 

"You are here for a reason."

 

"For the Nine's sake, I was playing about in Shallach, exploring the history when I got accosted and accused of killing ur'Dead, then thrown in here!"

 

"Now we're down to the bargaining. Whether it's true or not, you have treated me like a misguided monster and I do not feel an ounce of pity."

 

She would have curled into a ball if she could, and the fumes from his tanks were increasing. Katrina whimpered, finally trying one more plea. "Please, I have money! I can give you lots of money, and my family can! Don't do this to me. Please!" sniffled the furrikin, but all she got in response was Marcus' silence. He lifted the mask as smog and taint filled the room, her last image being the human with the machete raised, an expression of ecstasy on his ruined face. She blacked out, the last thing she experienced being fear.

 

-

 

He released her the next day, and she trudged back to Celest, shivering as the cold wind blew against her bare skin. Tears fell, splotching the road, and the blurred image of Celest came into view. The road was bare, and she was too weak to use a teleport. She had seen what had happened with Ezekiel, even contributed to it. Guess that was karma, then.

 

People were overjoyed to see her, and sympathetic. So much sympathy, followed by light interrogations. No, she didn't want to talk about it, no she didn't know where the prison was, no she didn't want to even think about it she just wanted to be left alone.

 

After everyone had finished, and she seemed to have passed from the current news, she went to visit her oldest friend, an associate of her late mother's. He actually listened, and served her the tea she always loved. "And I am so scared, I don't want to have to leave Celest" whimpered Katrina, tears falling as the enormity of her situation fell on her.

 

He looked at her sympathetically and brought her head to his chest, stroking her bald head. "Ever since poor Ezekiel was tortured by Magnagora, we could never really heal him. Marcus does something dark inside the body, ruining it forever. I told him, he should seek exile, or a covenant, and do the supernals work until a cure is found. I guess none of us really saw what had really been torn inside him. "I do not want you to share the same fate, nor would i wish it on anyone else. Thus, I will try something I have been working on."

 

"Thank you."

 

-

 

A day later, and nothing was different. Her bodily functions returned to normal, she felt nothing damaged within her womanhood, and went back to her friend. He was overseeing a healing potion within the city's alembic being made, the alchemist chanting spells and amalgamating different herbs together. "Has it started yet?" he asked, concerned and distracted.

 

"No. Everything is… normal, I feel no different. I'm actually more concerned with that, because maybe it hasn't happened yet? Can you just do a check to make sure nothing is wrong?"

 

He nodded and touched a hand to her forehead, closing his eyes and breathing in slowly. The Divinus energy of her soul spoke to him, and told him all about her body. A few minutes passed, and he let go. "It appears nothing is wrong."

 

"What?"

 

"Your insides are fine. Your stomach, is fine, you are a perfectly fit furrikin. Organs, blood, tissue, bones, everything seems to be in order. You're clean. That scar appears to be more a tattoo than a wound."

 

"But… what…? He said he would…"

 

-

 

In the Halls of the Void, Marcus dipped his quill into an ink pot and wrote in the book, carefully creating his manuscript for the city. He spent most of his time in the library now, but the atmosphere had its benefits. A voice spoke into his mind, and he smiled at what it told him. The Geomancer closed the book and left. He passed it to one of his many servants, who spent her time checking it over as he left the library. Walking out of the city into the road south of Magnagora, he took a deep breath in. He needed to get out more, and see more people. Speaking of…

 

Katrina stared at him, disguised in the environment from where to watch him. It had to be the right moment, one single slip up and she'd be killed. His back suddenly turned to her position and she leapt like a crazed animal, landing on his back. The dagger was raised, and she was twisted off, spun around and landed on the floor. Something enclosed her neck, and she reached up to take it off. Spikes grazed along her palms, and she stopped, shivering in fear. Katrina saw something attached to the collar, a long black rope that led to Marcus' wrist, the hand holding onto the leash.

 

"You know, I was going to let you go" chatted the Geomancer nonchalantly as he dragged her effortlessly across the road. "You have a spirit I admire, and a sharp tongue at that. I told myself, "Marcus, she will want the truth, but if she does not seek it, then leave her." He yanked hard on it, sending her further into the death. She whined, pulling at the rope and trying to slip the collar off.

 

"You will find truth, and you will find enjoyment, just as I do. You will find knowledge, and even a sense of justice. It won't be pleasant, but you already know that!"

 

Katrina lunged at the dagger, picked it up and stabbed it into his back. Nothing happened except for a trickle of thin black liquid. He swung her around like a sack, swinging her into the ground, and she just let herself be dragged in a daze. She missed his next words, but heard the last as the prison came into view.

 

"Welcome to the family, sister. Don't worry, you'll look just like me soon enough!"

She screamed.