No Pain No Gain

GAME: Telamon rolls perception: (18)+23: 41

After the initial attack, Telamon is not in fact in his best wits for his trip. In fact it's a few moments until he gets his bearings at all. By the time he has, it's only in time for the world to do that shifting, uncomfortable thing that it does when cross-planar travel happens.

That's when he'll notice the cloth stuffed into his mouth, the chains binding him. That the presence of Cor'lana is gone from his mind.

He hasn't been blindfolded at all, but there's not much to be seen through the bodies of the group of men around him. The rough estimate is at least ten. Probably not more. There's a pop and the relief of reconnection to Cor'lana after the passage of a few moments. Then they're carrying him roughly through a camp. It's not as large as he's expecting, at least it doesn't _feel_ as large, again it's hard to be sure, but he gets the impression that this is a smaller camp than the army he's seen before.

This thought is stalled a moment later when he is unceremoniously dumped into a rather large tent that is very clearly something that someone has been sleeping in. There's a bundle of furs on the ground that look like a nest, a desk with various papers on it that look like a map with marks on it - mostly not visible from Telamon's vantage on the floor, but he gets a glance while being tossed. The floor is covered in furs at least, and the men take their time stripping Telamon of all his gear. Where necessary a blade is employed to remove straps or seems. A shirt is then very sadly destroyed beyond recognition. They even take his shoes. They don't further rough him up, but instead leave him alone at the moment with the rooms sole remaining occupant. A man who has been harassing Cor'lana for months.

His silver eyes have been watching the whole show from beginning to end. They are dark and mirthless. No trace of satisfaction or pleasure in seeing Telamon brought low. No anger which might have been expected. Just dead silver eyes. The men leave and he rises from the chair in front of the desk, and walks over to the prone Telamon, crouching down to the other man's level. Reaches out and grabs Telamon by his hair.

Telamon feels like he's been put through the proverbial barrel-ride. The removal of his gear doesn't surprise him, not really -- they'd have to be rock stupid to leave him in possession of it. But lying there on the tent floor, battered and dazed, Tel's only comfort is the mental contact with Lana.

When he's grabbed by the hair, his starry eyes meet Zalgiman's without flinching. This close, Zalgiman can probably see the shifting night sky reflected in Tel's gaze. Still, being gagged, it's not like Tel can speak.

"I suppose you'd have a few choice words for me at this point." Zalgiman looks at Telamon's steady gaze and offers a half-smile that is completely devoid of humor. "I'll warn you, if you start saying something I don't understand I won't resist the temptation to bruise that pretty face of yours. Catch my drift?"

He waits a moment, then pulls the cloth out of Telamon's mouth.

Tel's already soaked up a few bruises, and isn't particularly keen on collecting more. Still... when the gag is pulled out, he makes a 'bleah' sound, as if trying to clear the taste from his mouth. "So I guess I won't be showing off my linguistics skills tonight," he growls. "Congratulations -- for now, I suppose. This sort of thing never ends well."

He doesn't try and dart his eyes around, instead keeping focused on Zalgiman. "So, Zalgiman, did the attempted dalliance with my wife not quite go to your liking? You've been sniffing around her for days, even weeks."

"Funny of you to say that it won't end well. I could kill you right now. I wouldn't even break a sweat." Zalgiman flashes his teeth in a small violent movement. "Maybe your raven would come to save you, but when she finds nothing more than a pyre what then?"

Telamon has the man's full attention, and his fierce teeth fall away to lines of nothingness. "She didn't tell you?"

GAME: Telamon rolls sense motive+3: (18)+15+3: 36

Telamon gives Zalgiman a look. "And then what, Zalgiman? Going to get more of your pack killed because you made an absolutely implacable foe? What a brilliant plan. And that assumes Lana settles for 'kill' and not some horrid, fey-driven punishment that I can't talk her out of."

He shifts around a little bit. "Look, do you mind if I sit up? You've got me chained up, it's not like I can wiggle my fingers or anything..."

Telamon keeps his starry eyes on Zalgiman's. "She said you'd approached her in a shared dream and it didn't go well at all." There's a hint of compassion there, but -why-?

Zalgiman snorts. "You don't care about my pack. Hell I don't care about them." His eyes say he doesn't care, doesn't have an ounce of fear over what Cor'lana does to him or any other in her path. He releases Telamon's head forcefully enough to jerk it a little and grabs the smaller man by the shoulders, 'helping' him to his knees. Where he can sit a little more comfortably.

"Didn't go well. She said that." He looks... defeated. A man that knows Vardama is coming for him. "Your little raven tried to kill me, but the gods do not reckon as mortals do. We don't always get what we want. You or me."

Telamon smiles, and it's a slightly frightening expression. No one in the position he's in should smile like that. "By my own oaths I am a guardian of travelers at night. You might be surprised." Once he's upright, he rolls his neck and works his jaw, wincing a bit.

"I'm understating. I know what happened. That she tried to turn you from this path and you refused. That you don't care about yourself, and that was what drove her to try and strike you." He shakes his head. "That... was not how I would have handled it."

There's a slight frown on Zalgiman's face. "She wanted me to turn to Eluna. Eluna." He huffs and suddenly stands up. He paces away from Telamon, and opens a drawer. A silver blade slips out of it and the werewolf twirls it in his hand. The movement is practiced and easy. He gives it a flip and there's an almost immediate scent of burning flesh. Smoke rises from his hand and without warning he throws the dagger at Telamon's face.

The blade flies with unerring accuracy, burying itself in the tent beside Telamon's head. He shows the slowly-healing burn on his palm to Telamon and stalks slowly toward the sorcerer. "A goddess that loathes me. A goddess who would never forgive what I am." He ends up in front of Telamon, crouching down and the scent of his burned flesh is sickening. "What would you have done in her place Telamon? It seems you know everything. You must know that I threatened your life. Her happiness. What would you have done if not to try and end this miserable existence?"

"I can see why you might think that, Zalgiman." Telamon winces slightly at the sizzling sound, the scent of burning flesh, and he can't help but twitch away as the dagger slices past his head. "But then... who -does- care for you? Who will? You think 'Eluna cannot love me', and I say you have not asked her to."

He glances over at where the dagger went, and pointedly moves -away- from it. Then he turns to look at Zalgiman again. "Once again, I am confronted with someone who believes themselves trapped in an unwinnable game, not realizing there is another move to play."

"Tell me, Zalgiman Joaki. Do you remember a werewolf by the name of Gustov?"

"You're wrong Telamon. I prayed to the gods for years. I begged them to give me a sign. They gave me Marsward. Marsward and his promises; his lies." Zalgiman doesn't pay attention to the knife his eyes on Telamon. There's a trace of hatred there, but it's not for Telamon alone. His self-loathing is an ocean deep and wide. "I'm in charge of recruitment; didn't you know?"

Oh yes, the loathing there is _deep_. "I remember them all Telamon. Every boy, girl, woman, man. It's a litany of the damned. Marsward sent him to die." No hate there, no anger, just empty resignation.

Telamon shifts a little, chains clinking. "The gods do not always answer in ways we understand, Zalgiman. I never became devoted to one until fairly recently, and that was only because I came face to face with Eluna herself." His lips quirk up faintly. "Perhaps I was not listening very well."

"But I digress. Yes, Marsward sent him to die. Unfortunately, Marsward is not near as competent as he thinks he is. He lives, Zalgiman." Telamon's eyes glimmer with starshine. "Despite being compelled to drink a filthy concoction of belladonna and silver, we kept him from death. He was healed, and taken to an Elunite monastery to find his path."

There's something like a dark flicker in Zalgiman's eyes. Something very nasty that rises to the surface and the werewolf pulls his dagger out of the tent. There's a tiny hole left in the wake, but Zalgiman seems much more dangerous with the blade than without it. The hilt doesn't burn him being made out of leather, but the silver blade glints in the light in the tent. "Is that why she likes you so well? Your pretty words? You talk so well Telamon, wooing women must be easy for you. Trying your best to soothe the savage beast. I wonder if she'd like you half so much without your tongue in your head."

Telamon stares back at Zalgiman. "I can't stop you from cutting out my tongue, but then, I can't stop you from chasing your own death, either." He smiles, bitterly. "Some diplomat I am, I suppose. But what about them?" He tilts his head in the direction of the camp. "Don't they deserve to live? You say you don't care about them, but then you say you remember them all. If you didn't care, would you remember?"

Tel shakes his head. "You can believe me or not. I can't -force- you to believe, and I wouldn't want to. But cutting out a man's tongue won't disprove what he says; it just tells the world you're afraid of what he has to say."

"We all die Telamon. They'll die, I'll die. It doesn't remember if I remember them or not. But I want you to live. I want you to know what it feels like, to love her and not have her." He talks and there's bitterness there, unshed, unacknowledged tears. "Torturing you won't give me that. Cutting you to ribbons won't change it. But I can do something worse."

With that he rises to his feet again, pacing over to his desk and opening it a second time. He pulls out a bottle and shoves the knife forcibly back inside the drawer. Considering its location, he must sleep next it every night. He brings the bottle close to Telamon and waggles it. "Open up pretty boy. I've got a nice concoction for you."

Telamon just looks at Zalgiman in exasperation -- as if he's a teacher confronted with a particularly dim student, not the prisoner in a werewolf's clutches. But before he can launch a rejoinder, Zalgiman has thrown the knife back in the drawer and pulled out a bottle. "If you'd wanted to trade booze recipes, why not just ask? I've got a marvelously magical plum wine I make now and then."

Zalgiman flashes his teeth at Telamon and crouches down. "You think I want to get you drunk? We're not pals." He snorts and pulls the tiny cork out with his teeth. Then shoves the little bottle toward Telamon. "We can do this the hard way, or the easy way, but either way down it goes."

Telamon just looks at Zalgiman, and firmly clamps his mouth shut. His eyes and expression pretty much say it all: screw you. Which, sadly, is not enough. After initially trying to close Telamon's nostrils (which doesn't seem to do anything), the larger man opts to simply grab Tel's cheeks, squeeze roughly to force his mouth open, and pours the concoction into his mouth.

GAME: Telamon rolls craft/alchemy: (1)+16: 17 (EPIC FAIL)
GAME: Telamon rolls craft/alchemy: (18)+16: 34

When this is done, Zalgiman seems immensly satisfied with himself, pulling away from Telamon and sitting in his chair, tossing the bottle in his free hand almost idly. "Now we wait. You and me." He smiles, and again, there's no humor in it. "Wait for your raven to fly to your side."

The bottle is snapped out of the air once again. "We might have been friends you know. Not you and I. We're two very different people, but her? I could have..." Those silver eyes look at the bottle in his hands. "If I had met her then, in the snow. I would have saved her, and she could have saved me."

He looks at Telamon. "But that was a lifetime ago, and there's no hope now."

-End