Transformation~

[Israfel Deu Ausgard]

Israfel wasn't sure what was more maddening; the lack of food and water in his system, or the fact he didn't know if it was night or day. Perhaps it was the constant pain he was in or maybe even the isolation and fear. Whatever it was, Israfel was having an extremely hard time keeping himself sane. He wasn't sure how many hours had passed, how many days had dawned and nighted already, or how much longer he was going to be kept in this hell. All he knew what was right in front of him. Luckily, a soldier had given him the luxury of being able to sit and stand on the floor. He was no longer hanging, but instead, his ankles were chained to the floor. He was still half naked and the jagged rocks sliced into his flesh each time he sat or laid upon it. His feet and ankles were red and covered in jagged cuts and gashes, but he hardly felt them anymore. His fingers and palms were raw and numb from constant attempts at breaking free from the heavy iron shackles. His hair stuck to his back and shoulders as if plastered there and his face was covered in bruises and painful cuts from beatings promoted by guards.

His right eye was swollen shut; a fist to the head from screaming obscure names at the King had given him that. A long, painful slice from the right corner of his mouth to his chin had been granted by a rather angered soldier over Israfel's lack of discretion over the leaving of the General. But the sprained ankle was all his own over the many attempts at pulling himself free. In short, Israfel was a mess. He couldn't tell if his ribs were all intact, after all, the soldier who had kicked him after Israfel bit him had iron boots on. But what he did know was that the stabbing pains in his stomach were telling him he needed to eat. It seemed to have been an eternity since the last clump of stale bread had been tossed to him. He was weak and he knew it.

All he could do was lay there. He was broken, his spirit broken. He no longer amused himself with calling the King and guards names or by remembering the many times Lourette and Laties had forced him to pay their bills. Now, the names were useless and the memories had gone sour. Now, he could only stare at the red rock ceiling above him, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in his back. He couldn't sleep; the nightmares had intensified as of late. He couldn't talk to himself; the conversations were boring. He couldn't sing; his own voice made him cringe. He couldn't cry; the salt in his tears burned the cuts on his face. He couldn't laugh; his ribs felt as if they were about to snap. Israfel could do nothing. He would do nothing. He didn't even flinch when the one man who controlled his fate walked in.

Osirus had been waiting for this day with great anticipation. Though he had managed to find things to keep him busy, he had always one thought in the back of his mind. And today was finally the day he could do it. The King had many things planned. Seeing his ex-General Laties Luhma betray him in such a way had inspired him. Not only was he planning the biggest army movement since the Day of Inson, but he was also making arrangements for one of the biggest head hunts in Alyssus' great history. Laties was a wanted man. He had a fifty thousand gold piece prize on his head. Surely, the deaths of all who lived in and around Gurella would satisfy the blood lust of the King? No. He would make Laties suffer beyond all means. Not only would he make sure Laties' home was destroyed, he would send someone after Laties himself. Of course the King wouldn't give up such a large amount to just anyone.

He had sent an invitation to many people for this event. He wanted his daughter, his wife, his adviser, and anyone else who wanted to see the true power of Nocens Atrum. Of course, his daughter was a little more...coerced to come. As he walked up to the door, smirking as the guards bowed, he swung out his hand, the door opening upon its own accord, slamming into the rock wall. The King walked into the room, his long heavy black cloak trailing the ground behind him. His eyes were drawn to the skinny man on the floor, smirking. Israfel was just in the condition Osirus had imagined. With bones showing through his bloodied and beaten skin, his face weak and begging, his ankles shackled to the floor. It was almost too much. The King slowly walked up to Israfel who turned his face towards him. Kneeling down, the King fought the putrid stench of the man as he sharply tapped Israfel's cheek.

"Ooh...look at you...You poor, pathetic creature...You look like you're on Death's door mat. Tell me Ausgard, how do you feel?"

Israfel glanced at the King, wincing as he felt Osirus' cold fingers against his face. He swallowed and opened his mouth, but he couldn't form words. Even though he had been so ready for this moment, it had come too late. He was just too weak. Turning his head away, he left the King without a reply.

Osirus smirked and stared at Israfel.
"Don't worry Ausgard...I understand it that you begged for your life and for forgiveness...lucky for you, I'm here to give it to you today...What do you say to that?" Upon hearing no reply, Osirus lifted his head for a minute, his smile fading.

"Stubborn and rude despite all this pain? You hold quite an impressive front...I, however, value manners and sincerity," Osirus said as he stood. Reaching under his cloak, he brandished a black whip. Watching Israfel wince at the mere sight of it made a smile slither back onto his pale face.

"Hmm, that's what I thought...but I think someone would be more appreciative for this opportunity..." Osirus then turned to face those who had decided to join. Holding the whip up, he smirked.

"He still has a bit of stubbornness in him. Who would like to beat it out of him?"

[Princess Naahra]

She didn't wish to come...she didnt want to see what was going to happen to the poor Grass Man...but she had no choice...

Naahra stood there, between her mother and father, her eyes focused on her feet, on the hem of the emerald green dress she chose to don. Though she was going to be all alone, with just her brother for comfort, she at least had the consolation that Laties would return to her and bring her to Gurella... At least she had that consolation...

"Look up, never down..." she mouthed to herself, repeating the words that the General spoke to her before he left, "Show them who is Princess Naahra Sephiran Valhalla of Alyssus..." With those words in her mind, she raised her head, a resolute look in her eyes. /I will wait for you, Laties, my love.../ she thought to herself. /No matter how long it takes, I will wait for you.../

Slowly, her gaze traveled back down to the pathetic man on the floor... It wasn't that she thought he was pathetic, it was that she...felt pity for him... /Lumen... Keep him safe.../ she thought, her hands slowly folding together to give her the impression of being an obedient daughter, even though her pendant had disappeared and was now being held by General Laties Luhma...or rather...just Laties Luhma, now, considering that he was probably stripped of his rank... Oh well...

Hearing her father ask who wanted to beat the stubbornness out of poor Israfel, Naahra looked back down at her feet, her head shaking slightly, and her left leg slid back involuntarily, as if she didn't dare say anything, but at the same time, screamed that she didn't want to.

[King Osirus]

Osirus' gaze was drawn to the slight movement of his daughter. He stared at her for a moment as anger swelled in him. He no longer had the control over her he once had. Instead now, Laties had the necklace in which gave him the power to influence her. He felt a muscle twitch in response to his anger. His daughter was defiant. She was free. He then walked up to her, a smile on his face. He now stood directly in front of her. She could smell is pungent cologne, his long hair falling about his shoulders freely.

"What is this? Does a Princess of Alyssus wish not to deal punishment to a man who has most defiantly neglected to do his duty? What kind of Princess would defy her father?" He growled, grabbing her fair chin roughly in his cold hands. He forced her to look at him, a cruel smile lacing his lips.

"Do you honestly think Laties will be able to reach you if you're locked away in your room with guards at every crack in the wall?" Osirus asked. His grip on her chin was painful.

"Do not defy me, Naahra. You are a Princess of Alyssus, my daughter, and you will act just as a Princess of Alyssus should, do you understand me? Or should I rend your dear brother from your hands and have him locked up as well? You have a duty, Naahra. And that is to become a successful Queen of Alyssus," Osirus growled, taking his hand from Naahra's face.

"Tch...Naahra...I pity you...to have...such a pig...as your father..." Israfel muttered. He was slowly sitting up, using his weak arms to raise himself on his knees. He coughed violently, then looked at Naahra.

"I know you...d-don't like me...but Laties...wants you to stay...the way you are...a kind...pretty...and thoughtful princess...of her own will...Don't listen to whatever...kind of nonsense your father spouts..." Israfel said, a pained smile on his face. He sat there on his legs, his hands at his side.

Osirus slowly turned to face Israfel, a bright smile on his face.

"Aww, it looks like you've got some strength in you after all...Impressive, very impressive Ausgard," Osirus said as he slowly walked up to Israfel, the whip in his hands still. He glanced down at the green haired sergeant, then chuckled.

"You're broken, beaten, and close to death and you still defy your King! What insolence..." With a quick movement, the King's whip lashed out and wrapped around Israfel's throat. The King pulled him up while the King went down on one knee so that Israfel's throat was being pressed against the King's knee. Choking, Israfel struggled to pull away the whip as Osirus chuckled.

"You will soon regret those words, Ausgard!"

[Queen Marcelle]

Queen Marcelle watched in morbid fascination as her husband verbally ridiculed and physically harassed the disgraced Israfel Deu Ausgard, painted black lips curved into a psychotic grin. Even though she had quite the penchant for torture, she wasn't particularly fond of visiting the Blood Chamber to observe any of Nikanoru's sessions; the scent and scenery alone were enough to make her gag. But this very special occasion was an exception: The fool who angered her husband so greatly by losing the Cruor Sword was finally about to receive his deserved comeuppance. Soon he would be nothing more than a puppet whose sole purpose in life was to amuse and benefit the Dark King Osirus.

Her enjoyment, almost childlike in its simplicity, was quickly replaced with flaming ire as her daughter was reprimanded by Osirus. Marcelle had failed to notice it, but Naahra was clearly showing signs of apprehension and uneasiness over assisting her parents with torturing the green-haired sergeant! The lack of subservience her daughter was showing irked her greatly; it was too much for her to tolerate. If the pendant could not be retrieved, Marcelle knew that she would have to beat a sense of submissiveness and humility back into Naahra; it would hurt her greatly, but she wouldn't object to it if it proved to be absolutely necessary.

Grabbing onto her daughter's arm after Osirus finished scolding her, Marcelle pulled her close and rested those frightening blue eyes of hers on the Princess' face. "Sweetheart," she began in the usual innocent, yet sultry tone, razor-sharp nails digging into her daughter's flesh, "please try to behave yourself and enjoy the show. It would mean so much your father. Soon you will have an opportunity to beat the daylights out of this pathetic excuse of a man, and you'll enjoy it--or else."

The Queen's attention snapped away from her daughter and over to Israfel once he began to insult her husband, the supreme ruler and God of Alyssus. Normally she would have assaulted him on the spot, but she reminded herself that it was her husband's turn to have some fun. "My love, please be sure to go easy on him; we can't have our flaming homosexual passing out before I get a chance to finish what I started at the banquet."

((OOC: Nikanoru will enter in my next post. Don't have the willpower to intro him in this one. ;_;))

[Princess Naahra]

Feeling her father jerk her face toward his, Naahra let out a tiny squeak of pain, staring into her father's eyes, a look of fear in them. "I'm...sorry, Father!" she whispered. Feeling her mother grab her away and her nails digging into her skin, her emerald eyes welled up with tears. "Mother..." she whispered, "That hurts..."

Slowly, though, the princess's eyes changed from their emotional deep green to an unemotional dull pale blue. "I am not afraid to torture the annoying little Grass Man..." she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Despite the fact that her pendant was now around Laties Luhma's neck, the magic that exuded from it still coursed through her. Though it wasn't strong enough to change her hair and skin back to the soft silver and the deathly pale shades that they were, it was able to change her eyes and her personality.

Slowly, her gaze turned from her mother to her bleeding arm; her mother's nails dug too deep into her and broke he skin. Slowly, she pressed her lips to one of the cuts, slowly allowing the blood to flow into her mouth and run down her throat, her other cuts spilling blood as well, but they simply dripped off her arm and onto the skirt of her dress and the cold stone floor.

"Whenever you wish for me to take my turn, Father..." she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper, "I will..." Slowly, she allowed her arm to drop to her side, her blood slowly dripping down her arm and onto the stones that she stood on. Her emotionless eyes turned to the Grass Man, a look in them that almost resembled anger and hatred.

[Israfel Deu Ausgard]

Israfel choked loudly as the King tightened the whip around his neck, his knee digging into his chest. At one point, after Marcelle had spoken, Osirus had loosened the whip around his neck just enough so that Israfel was able to grab the perforated edges and pull it down to glare at Marcelle.
"My love, please be sure to go easy on him; we can't have our flaming homosexual passing out before I get a chance to finish what I started at the banquet." Israfel made a noise short of a snort, then coughed.

"Don't f-flatter yourself...Marcelle...just b-because a man...thinks you look like a pig...you tag him with such...a disgusting title...Why don't you...go roll in a bed of thorns with...the Prophet Freya, cow!" Israfel yelled.

Osirus roared loudly as he suddenly pulled up on the whip, snatching Israfel painfully from the ground so that he was suspended by his neck in the air by the whip. Israfel's air was completely cut off as he gagged and thrashed about in panic. Osirus roared in anger again and violently shook Israfel until his hands fell limply by his sides.

"How dare you insult my wife! You've just made the last crude comment you'll ever utter again!" Osirus roared in anger, his voice so loud, it was surprising the walls didn't crack with the volume of it.

"L-Laties!" Was all Israfel could mutter.

Osirus snarled loudly as he remembered the whole reason for him coming in here in the first place. He is right...if I kill him...no one will be able to go after Laties...damn it...
"Oh, Ausgard, you are lucky Laties needs to die, otherwise this room would be your grave!" he yelled as he tossed Israfel to his left, slamming him into a wall. Israfel crumpled to the floor, motionless. Osirus then turned to Naahra and smirked.

"I'm glad you've changed your mind, Naahra dear...Heartlessness is a good foundation for a princess of Alyssus..." He said as he walked up to her and pressed the whip in her hands. He brought his face to her's and brought a hand up, brushing her cheek gently as he stared at her.

"Now...go teach the man who forced Laties to run a lesson...just be sure to leave some sort of life in him, as we need him to drag Laties back here..."

[Princess Naahra]

Naahra watched in complete silence as the Grass Man spoke badly of her mother, and how her father tortured him like he did. As soon as Israfel muttered 'Laties,' though, Naahra's eyes flashed back to green for a split second, and her 'free' instincts almost drove her to make a beeline for the door. However, she stood her ground, putting on a small smile as her father put the whip in her hands. "Yes... I shall not fail you, Father..." she whispered, putting a strong grip on the handle with both hands, the blood on her hand soaking into the black leather.

Slowly, Naahra walked around to the Grass Man's side, her hands tightening slightly out of the anger that was welling up inside of her.

"Now...go teach the man who forced Laties to run a lesson..."

Her father's words echoed in the young princess's mind as she raised the whip over her head, then brought it down with surprising force for such a young and frail girl, probably fueled by her rage. "How dare you make Laties run!" she screamed in a strangely high-pitched voice, almost like a screech. She continued her double-handed beating for a while; though it was slower, it was stronger. Eventually, though, she settled on using her non-injured arm, speeding up the process, but with the same surprising force. "Once we are finished, you will bring Laties back to us!" she screeched again, her dull eyes now ablaze with fury.

Her merciless beating of the Grass Man continued as she turned her head to face the King of Alyssus. "Like this, Father?" she asked, hoping silently that he would be pleased with her.

[Israfel Deu Ausgard]

For each hit, Israfel let out a shrill cry. He did not hold back his screams of pain as the whip ripped flesh, spraying blood each time Naahra hit him. The ribs. The arms. His neck. His back. His thighs. His chest. Even when he tried to curl up in a ball of protection, he could do nothing to guard himself against the onslaught of the whip. A fresh line of red appeared upon each hit, his tender flesh splitting apart and letting the air hit it like salt in a paper cut. Even when he rolled onto his back, trying to cover his face with his arms, he screamed in pain and cursed his existence. He could barely hear the King's thrilled laughter over his own screams, daring only once to look at the Princess with a grave pleading to stop. The pain was unbearable and all in the name of keeping Laties from this torture. There was no place for him to escape the pain. No place to imagine himself to bear with the beatings. No one was going to save him and he couldn't possibly imagine living with this pain for much longer.

It was only a few moments after Osirus beamed at his daughter as she asked for his approval did he walk up to her, placing his own on hers as Israfel sobbed terribly. He gently removed the whip from her and kissed her forehead, tasting the blood of the Sergeant on his lips from her face.

"Good girl, Naahra. You're beginning to realize just what your purpose in this family is...Now, go to your mother and give her a hug," he said. Glancing at Israfel, he watched the green haired Sergeant cry and whimper, his half naked body shaking. His blood seeped onto the ground, the red rocks sucking it up like hungry cats lapping at milk. He smiled and knelt down on this crimson carpet and placed a hand on the beaten boy's bloody rib cage. He could feel him shivering and shaking with each sob and at his touch, cringe.

"Poor, poor little man...now you know the pain of mocking your King and Queen...Tell me Israfel...do you wish to live or die?"

Israfel slowly opened his eyes, staring at his bloodied wrists as he lay on his side. The pain was unbearable and all he could do was sob. Tears mingled with blood as he wore his pain visibly.
Laties...Laties...God, help me...someone please help me...Naahra has lost her mind...Laties...Lourette...God, someone help me! Israfel shivered to the King's cold touch, his burning skin crawling with anticipation of the next strike. He didn't want to be in pain anymore. But he didn't want to die either. As a wall of panic ran over him, he took a shuddering breath and muttered, "I...I want...to live..."

[Princess Naahra]

Each time she felt Israfel's pained screams reach her ears, Naahra's lips slightly turned upwards in a sincere, almost cruel smirk. Feeling her father remove the whip from her hand, the smirk turned to a smile of pure joy. "Thank you, Father!" she said happily, leaning upward to kiss the king on the cheek. Turning to the Grass Man, she gave a tiny 'hmph!' of superiority, as if she were saying 'Serves you right, impudent dog, for failing my father...'

Slowly, she turned away from Israfel and walked to her mother. Like her father said, she put her arms around Queen Marcelle's neck and hugged her gently. "Are you proud of me, Mother?" she asked, her voice soft, but with a tone of pure viciousness in it. "I feel tingly inside from it..." she whispered in her mother's ear, obviously surprised at the sensation that beating the sergeant. "Is that supposed to happen?"

Frankly, though she seemed calm on the inside, she had a nest of dark feelings, including sadistic thoughts, hatred of the Grass Man, and the desire to beat him even more, even kill him. When she heard the green-haired man speak that he wanted to live, her smile curled downward into a scowl, and she crossed her arms over her chest, obviously angered by what he said. She wanted him to die...

[Queen Marcelle]

Should he have gone unpunished for insulting her, the Queen of Alyssus, she would have undoubtedly called on any nearby soldiers to beat him to a bloody pulp while she repeatedly kicked him in the groin; but her husband's swift and merciless retribution soothed her anger and captivated her. Every blow delivered to Israfel, every gash and cut staining his once perfect body, every fountain of blood that spewed from his open wounds--they both ensnared and enthralled her.

Marcelle didn't want the delicious torture to stop, but she knew that it would have to end soon enough; after all, Israfel couldn't be a proper puppet if he was nothing but a bloodied corpse.

As Naahra took the whip from her father and began delivering blow after blow to Israfel's already mangled body, Marcelle almost lost herself in excitement. Her daughter, her world--she was finally exerting her father's will. Naahra was beating the life out of the foolish sergeant, malicious rage fueling every lash she gave him! Never had the Queen been more proud of her daughter than at that moment. Her little girl was finally growing up to be a fine young woman, a young woman suited to one day inherit her father's throne.

Marcelle gave the princess a warm smile and returned the embrace, unable to contain her joy. "I've never been more proud of you than I am now, sweetheart," she whispered to her daughter, voice carrying the usual coldness, "And torturing him excited you? It made you feel tingly inside? That's perfectly normal: it means you enjoyed punishing that failure of a sergeant."

Noticing that Naahra was upset by Israfel's response, she ran a dainty hand through her daughter's hair and consoled her, "Don't worry, dear: soon you'll have the opportunity to torture many other scoundrels who displeased your father, who betrayed the God of Alyssus himself. Besides, this flaming homosexual can still prove to be useful..."

Though she didn't show it openly, Marcelle was also upset. She hadn't had the opportunity to torture Israfel, and it seemed like she would no longer have the chance to... Not only that, but the plan for his demise she contrived upon his induction into the military would be left unfulfilled. Planning elaborate deaths for her enemies was one of Marcelle's favorite hobbies. In Israfel's case, she desired to have him eaten alive by the starved, animal-like prisoners inhabiting the lowest level of the Blood Chamber.

Quite an ironic death, considering his sexual preference--or at least the preference Marcelle believed him to have. She cackled inwardly at the thought.

At that moment the doors opened, and in strode the former head of the Blood Chamber and King Osirus' personal advisor, Lord Nikanoru Magrace. The skeletal man took his place at Queen Marcelle's side, dark eyes fixed on the bloody mess that was Israfel Deu Ausgard. It seemed as if he had missed the good part; oh well, not much of a loss. He was more interested in seeing that barbarian Luhma suffering a fate far worse than Israfel's, anyway.

Why was he even bothering to be present at the Grass Man's session? Of course the King wanted him to watch it, but it didn't interest him: Nikanoru had seen an innumerable amount of tortures during his time as the Blood Chamber's director, and over time they simply ceased to interest him, which was one of the primary reasons for his resignation. He had to plan the invasion and slaughter of Gurella with his fellow advisors, and watching some twit he wasn't even interested in transform from a rebellious sergeant into an unquestioning pawn was wasting his valuable time. But if his liege desired his presence, he would have to comply.

"I apologize for my tardiness, milord. There was some business I had to attend to with the other advisors before I could stop by," he began in an apathetic, almost monotonous voice, "And I regret to inform you that Lord Remarque cannot attend for reasons unknown to me. This afternoon I discovered a note on my desk, informing me that he would be out for approximately a week."

[King Osirus]

Osirus, apparently pleased with what he had heard Israfel answer smiled and stood slowly, his hand stained with the Sergeant's blood. He slowly turned to see Nikanoru come unto his presence. He was pleased that Nikanoru had come. He knew how hard Nikanoru was working considering the large amount of orders he had recently given him. And in fact, he did not wish Nikanoru here to simply watch him. Nikanoru had seen many times his ability to hurt and mar people's souls. So why did he ask Nikanoru to come if he did not wish to show off his dark powers like he wished to present to his wife and Naahra?

"Lord Nikanoru, I'm glad you have made it. I know how terrible busy you and Lord Remarque are. But I have invited you here so that you may know and witness the ability I will be pouring into this young man. I want him to be on the front lines in our upcoming battle against Gurella you see. He will soon be a very valuable soldier used for our bidding," Osirus explained. He smirked, then brought his glance to his princess.

"Now watch as I form Israfel into the man who will one day kill Laties..." He turned to Israfel who shivered on the ground. Removing his heavy cloak, the King knelt in Israfel's blood as he gripped the man's slender arms, his nails gouging bloodied holes in his arm. Israfel's grunt of pain echoed in the room as the King lifted him from the floor and slammed him against the rocky wall. The King smiled as Israfel looked at him with weak, frightened eyes.

"Israfel Deu Ausgard...you will be come my puppet, a slave to the dark god Nocens Atrum forever. You will do my bidding as I see fit and you will obey all commands that I give you. I will place the Saevio sword in your hands and you hunt Laties down and kill him!" Osirus growled.

Israfel looked at him with pleading eyes, hardly able to hold up his head. Ragged gasps came from him sending his body into small convulsions. Or perhaps that was him sobbing for forgiveness. Either way, the King was only enjoying what he saw.

"P-please...my King...my Queen...please don't do this...I...I will do as you command...but please...let me have my mind..." Israfel begged. He was broken. He had no shame, no reputation. If now was a time to break down and cry, Israfel was going to do it.

"P-please! I beg of you..."

For a moment, the King gave him a fake look of sympathy, his eyes hiding their fake intentions.

"Oh, you poor thing...I do feel for you...to have your friends threatened, to strip away your manhood and placed into slavery...Why, I almost feel bad enough to let you go...However," his voice turned dark and sour, almost as if it were no longer his own. "I need you to be one of Nocens Atrum's arms in wielding this sword!" Osirus yelled as he slammed the green haired Sergeant against the wall again. Then he gripped his face in both hands. his nails digging into his soft flesh as he brought his face close to Israfel's. As Israfel's weak fingers struggled to pry the King's grip, Osirus opened his mouth, his pale lips parting as what appeared to be a demonic hand reached out from his mouth. It was a grotesque sight. The arm was thick with veins and sinewy tendons, its black skin glistening in the dull light. Long, cat-like claws suddenly shot forth and slammed into Israfel's head, the hand gripping Israfel's face, its hand covering his mouth. Green eyes widened in panic as Osirus' eyes glowed with an eerie red as he stared at him.

"Now, you are my slave! Take me unto you![/b]" A voice roared in the room. It was not Osirus' voice that had spoken, but a voice so dark and heavy, so cruel and malevolent it struck a chord in each person's heart who was in the room. It was Nocens Atrum's very own voice. The voice was accompanied by raspy laughter as Israfel began to thrash against his capture.

"There is no escape from this eternal hell![/b]" Then without warning, Israfel's body lurched violently as Nocens Atrum began to pour in his black magic in to the man. A thick black substance trickled down the sides of Israfel's chin from the sides of his mouth as his eyes rolled back into his head, his shrill screams of pain muffled by the hand around his face.

"You will hate Laties and Lourette. You will hate them for abandoning you here to become my slave. You will hate Laties and desire to kill him with all of your heart. You will forget every memory you have of your superiors and you will replace them with nightmares of ridicule and shame. You will adore your King and Queen. You will respect the dark princess. You will hate all Shade except those who hold your leash. You will kill every Order member in the most violent manner. You will slay each and every man, woman and child who does not support your King and Queen. And you will hate Lumen with all of your heart and reject the white magic she has control over. You are now the Possessed Knight![/i]" The voice roared. Soon, Israfel stopped flailing and his body became still. The hand slowly retracted back into the King, leaving Israfel's face covered in the black substance. The King released Israfel and watched as he feel to the floor in a heap.

Soon, dark marks slowly spread from Israfel's eyes, becoming a rich black color. Finally, the transformation was complete. The marks, a symbol of total slavery to the dark Lord were now clear and vibrant as he slowly opened his eyes. His dark emerald eyes were now replaced with a swallowing black color, coupled with crimson irises. Slowly sitting up, he looked up at Osirus.

"My liege..."

Osirus smiled and knelt in front front of Israfel, placing a hand on his cheek. Israfel didn't wince or pull away. In fact, he brought his own hand up to caress the King's hand.

"Israfel, how do you feel?" Israfel smirked darkly at the question.

"Never better, my King..." [/color][/size]

[Princess Naahra]

Naahra smiled gently as she brought one hand to her mother's, gently taking it and holding it like a little child would hold a loving mother's. "Yes, that's right, my dear mother..." she whispered, the small smile turning upward into a cruel grin as she heard the Grass Man's pained screams, a look of pure amazement in her eyes as Nocens Atrum's powers became apparent and posessed the knight. "It's...amazing!" she whispered happily, her hand tightening around her mother's slightly.

As soon as the possession was over, she took a tentative step forward, releasing her mother's hand. The clicking of her heels against the stone floor echoed in the room, her eyes fixed upon the Possessed Knight. "He's gorgeous..." she whispered, crouching down beside her father, allowing one hand to reach up to touch Israfel's shoulder. Slowly, she leaned forward, placing her arms around the sergeant's neck and resting her head on the shoulder she had touched earlier. "Absolutely gorgeous, Father..." she whispered again.

As soon as she had tenderly embraced the Grass Man, she stepped back, her ghostly eyes reflecting the torchlight in the room. Slowly, she returned to her mother's side, her arms hanging at her side, staring at the Possessed Knight with a strange emotion in her eyes...the one that would appear in her eyes if anyone mentioned Laties...

((Awwww! =3 Possessed Naahra likes Isra!))

[King Osirus]

Osirus smiled at his daughter's appreciation for his work. Taking a moment to gently wipe away the black substance from his own mouth, he stood as Naahra moved back to her mother's side. Osirus stared down at the possessed Knight, his black eyes giving him a sort of childish or doll-like look. But that's exactly what he was now. A doll. A doll to be played around with by the King. Forced to be manipulated and moved as the King wished. Chuckling lightly, he held his hand out to the bloodied Knight whom took it with great care and delicacy. He helped Israfel to his feet, the King looking at his Knight with admiring eyes.

"Now Israfel, what do you think of Laties?" Osirus asked.

Israfel's dark eyes grew to be full of hatred and spite as his lips twitched into a hateful growl.

"I hate Laties. We will pay for leaving me behind. I will rip him apart, limb by limb and bring you his head. He will not live to see the greatest Kingdom built by you, Lord Osirus. He will vanish in the Hell fire of my revenge!" Israfel growled, his voice dripping with hate.

Osirus smiled and nodded slowly.
"Good boy. That is correct. Israfel, I will give you a weapon in which to destroy Laties with. Two weapons in fact, in which I will bestow a great responsibility upon you to care for them. First..." Osirus snapped his fingers and a soldier whom had been waiting just outside the door walked in carrying Israfel's chains. He brought them up to the King, his face dripping in a fearful sweat. The King glanced at the soldier, frowned, then took the chains in his hand.

"You stay there..." He told the soldier. The panicked soldier looked at him in fear, but stood rigid. Osirus then looked down at the chains and smiled as he grasped them tightly. Without warning, he poured an electrifying amount of dark magic into them, fusing the chains with the black magic of Nocens Atrum. There was a high picthed reverberating sound as if the chains were screaming. But soon enough, it stopped and the chains began to move of their own accord. Twisting and wrapping around the King, it was as if the chains had their own being. They were in no way wrapping around him threateningly, but almost lovingly. He then beckoned Israfel forth. As the Knight stood in front of him, the King placed the chains on Israfel. The chains quickly wrapped around their new owner and Israfel smiled.

"Thank you my liege..." Osirus nodded.

"Try them out."

Israfel chuckled lightly and simply lifted his index finger. The chains immediately reacted as one end of the chain lifted itself like a snake, the poisonous black tips poised for a strike. He flicked his other wrist, the other end of the chain lifting of its own accord. Now both ends swayed and moved as if they were living snakes. Israfel's black eyes moved towards the nervous soldier. In one movement, he threw his arm forward and the chain slammed into the soldier with such speed, it tore right through the man's chest. Laughing, Israfel threw his other arm forward, the chain passing through the soldier's stomach. Both ends curled around the soldiers shoulders and gripped his arms. By spreading his own hands, Israfel had signed the soldier's death warrant. The chains ripped the man in half, holding either end of the bloody carcass high in the air as the blood splattered on Israfel's face and naked torso.

Osirus smiled at the monster he had created. Israfel was now his toy, his token to winning this war. He chuckled and nodded to Israfel, who waved his arms, the chains tossing the corpse to the other end of the room.

"Good, good. Now, take this..." Plucking a fallen scabbard that the soldier had been carrying from the ground, he handed it to Israfel who received it with open arms. Slowly taking the sword from the scabbard, Israfel's face gained a devious smile as he held the Saevio sword in his hand. Osirus nodded.

"With that sword, you will hunt down Laties and kill him..."

Israfel smiled at the King and bowed.

"Of course my King..."

[King Osirus]

"Good good...Now, clean yourself up. We have much to do before I release you unto this world," Osirus said. Another soldier walked in and Osirus turned to him.

"Be sure to have Sergeant Israfel cleaned up and present him with his armor. I will have him present at my dinner party coming up. Naahra my princess," he walked up to his daughter, taking her face in his hand gently. He smiled wickedly.

"Please have your brother ready for the dinner party tomorrow. We'll be having some rather important guests coming to dine with us." He then turned to his Queen and took her hand as he led her out. Osirus was beaming, as happy as he could be with his new toy.

::Fin::