Triumph of Golgonath

Elysium, the city of the Light.
Elysium, the jewel in the ocean.
Elysium, the home of Justice.
Elysium, the smoking ruin.

Elysium fell in a fortnight. Assailed by the armies of Golgonath and its villages. They broke the walls, walls that stood firm for centuries, and poured in.
Prisoners were not in the initial plan, wholesale slaughter was the primary objective. Earlier that year Elysium and Ysallyra had nearly broke Golgonath's gates and almost began a potentially unending occupation.
But that was not to be, Ysallyra was nothing but ash and charcoal. But some escaped, and the Circle intended to find out.

Prisoners captured from the Ysallyran held villages were brought before the Forsaken Kitara, and the Matriarch Zinerva for interrogation.
Anyone who resisted would either suffer unimaginable pain, either mentally by way of psionic attack, or physically as their flesh was slowly cut into
by razor sharp talons. Those who knew something about the location of the remaining Ysallyrans were locked into another room, those who knew nothing, or resisted completely had their blood drained.
They were down to their last handful of prisoners, when Zinerva finally dragged it out of one prisoner that an old traitor knew of the location of Ysallyra's survivors.
'Tell me, and I will spare you.' she hissed in his ear, a long talon rested on his rapidly pulsing neck.
'P-Pyrok, Matriarch, I mean think about-t it... The man knows things he shouldn't half th-'
Zinerva lazily dragged her talon across the frightened prisoner's neck, ending his stammering and his life.
'I ...dislike it... when people speak of that scum. Kitara, bring in Pyrok, then leave.'
Kitara inclined her head and departed the blood stained torture room.
Knows things he shouldn't... That may be.


Pyrok was dangling from the stone ceiling, his wrists rubbed raw from the manacles. Earlier he'd tried escaping using his shadow, but it refused to move.
The little black crystal in the oak door likely had something to do with it, the pulsing light mocking his attempts to escape.
'So they built a better mouse trap...' laughed Pyrok, the sound echoing off the walls.
The screams from the torture chamber chilled him to the core for a while, but his foul humour prevented any fearful thoughts.
Shunting the fact he was way in over his head again aside, Pyrok discovered one niggling detail. He was bored.
Before he could contemplate the depths of his boredom, a key grated in the lock and light poured into his dim cell.
Kitara stood framed in the doorway, her hands on her hips and a quiet snarl on her face.
'A word of warning, the Mother is not pleased to have you in her mansion again, you know what that means.'
'That I've been a bad boy and I'm in time out.' sniggered Pyrok, lazily swinging from his manacles
Kitara stepped forward and sunk her talons into Pyrok's chest, and brought her face to his.
'It means you will cooperate, and Mother will make the discipline quick and painless.'

Pyrok was flung into the torture chamber, his chest bloody from Kitara's talons and his arms lacerated from her dragging him there.
Instantly the hairs on Pyrok's neck stood on end as he felt his mind invaded, and heard thoughts that were not his own.
Sit in the chair, then tie the restraints.
Wordlessly, Pyrok sat in the chair, and tied his arms. Then he shook his head, bodily breaking the psionic attack off.
'Reading my mind are we, Zinerva. Never thought you'd want to take a peek in there.'
Zinerva stepped out of the shadows, a slim blade in her hand. No talons.
'I have better means of retrieving information from you, I know your mind will already be forgetting the location of the survivors.'
Pyrok eyed the blade, his face paling slightly.
'Blood has excellent memory, and I'm well suited to... getting those memories.'
Zinerva stepped closer to Pyrok, and then stopped suddenly, a look of rage laced revulsion on her face.
'You still have a symbiote!?'
Pyrok smirked darkly, as his skin turned grey, and his chest glowed red.
'Of course, once it stilled my heart was a little difficult to get rid of it.'
'You... FILTH!' Zinerva yelled, slashing his face with the slim blade.
The wound didn't bleed, and healed almost instantly. Pyrok raised his face, and smiled widely.
Zinerva flew into a rage, slashing and cutting at him, and not once did he let out a scream his mouth pressed into a grimace of pain.

Hours passed, and Pyrok's clothes were shredded and Zinerva's talons were back out.
'Believe it or not, this actually works to my advantage.'
Pyrok's condecending smirk instantly faded, his expression carefully guarded.
Zinerva smiled, her fangs glinting in the torch light
'Yes, Pyrok. 'Uh oh' is right.'
Zinerva cut her palm, and her symbiote burst out of the wound. Its cries stirred Pyrok's symbiote which writhed under his skin.
'Yours is but a mere servant to mine, and will tell me what you refuse to speak.'
Zinerva pressed her palm to a wound on Pyrok's chest and her symbiote rushed in.
Pyrok didn't hold back any screams.
The symbiote stopped searching for the other, and Zinerva looked at him.
'Feel like telling me now?'
'Yes, but first...'
'Hmm?'
'I've got an itch--'
The symbiote dug deeper into his flesh, and another scream of pain drained Pyrok's lungs.
'Alright! Alright! Just stop!'
'No, Pyrok, you've worn out my patience. You will not die, however.'
Pyrok's look of confusion spoke volumes, and an underlying fear showed in his eyes.
Symbiont melded with symbiont, and Zinerva removed her hand from Pyrok.
'You, will be my servant. My blade to cut down the remaining survivors.'
'Never, I'm not cutting down anyone.'
Zinerva arched an eyebrow, and Pyrok's breathing suddenly stopped.
'Interesting isn't it?'
Pyrok gasped for air, his arms straining against the restraints to grab at his throat.
'I now control your symbiote, and you. You'll find that I can do more than stop your breathing.'
Pyrok's lungs were suddenly working, heaving great lungfuls of air Pyrok looked at Zinerva, her eyes blazing with bloodthirst.
'I can see you don't believe me, perhaps I'll demonstrate on a servant.'
A knock on the door preluded Kitara dragging in a new slave, her iron collar still bright.
'Kill the girl.'
'No.'
'You don't understand do you.'
Pyrok was suddenly filled with bloodlust, and he could see the slave's pulsing jugular. Hungrily he strained against his bonds, growling ferally.
'Kitara, release the mutt.'
The bonds on Pyrok were cut and he lunged forward sinking his fangs into the shrieking slave.
Pyrok's screams of revulsion were heard over the slave, but he could not stop.
The slave drained dry, Pyrok turned and looked at Zinerva.
'We'll have to do something about your ability to speak, but your sentence Pyrok is thus: You are to kill your friends, and watch them die.'

The Black Legion had established a new garrison in Dassa, the blighted ruin of Elysium framing the building as if to say 'We stand on their grave and laugh.'
Aaridan's office was set up in what was once the mayor's chambers, the windows looking out at Elysium. Aaridan was contemplating the ruins, having heard
disturbing rumors that some Elysians, and some Ysallyrans as well, had survived their attack.
This cannot be allowed to continue, I must swiftly eradicate any resistance by any means. Doing so will assure my coronation as Emperor Supreme.
'Sire, I have news from the inquisitors, several Elysians have escaped and are hiding in the villages.'
Aaridan turned from the window, affixing the messenger with one glaring eye.
'What are you wasting my time for with that information! Find them and kill them, before someone else does!'
'S-sire, it will prove difficult, as they've effectively erm- ah that is to say... vanished?' the messenger stammered as blood poured from his eyes.
'Did I stutter? FIND THEM! Burn the villages in question to the ground, kill all those involved, we must show that harbouring surviving Elysians will not be tolerated.'
The messenger gulped loudly and saluted hurriedly before turning and bumping into the door.
Aaridan ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it back into place.
Turning to his obsidian trimmed desk, he considered the reports of resisting villagers, and what had been done with them.
Most had been enslaved, the Circle opting for a slightly benign route in the aftermath of the War Finale. Repairs were made to destroyed villages,
jobs restored and trade was apparently on the rise. But there were still problems obviously.
Seating himself in his seat, Aaridan picked up a particular report, detailing the actions of other Circle members, Guild Leaders and other notable citizens of
the Empire.
Zinerva was the most recent event, her tortures had become increasingly effective since the conversion of Pyrok. He was a sterling example of the abilities the Forsaken had, but Aaridan reserved his doubts. Pyrok had repeatedly escaped certain doom before, through his own design or with the aid of those who were friends of his. Zinerva likely thought him snared in her claws, and had plans for him.
Planning to steal my throne, you wench? I think not.
Aaridan made a note to keep her inundated in prisoners, interrogating for the remaining Elysians now as well.
Malic was next, and his research into the seal of the Underworld was becoming increasingly promising. What he had planned was not clear, but Aaridan did
not want surprises so he was watching the improvements closely.
The reports went on detailing Eitak, scouring the countryside searching for something, lately his escapades had taken him into the ruins of
Elysium. Aaridan did not need to watch him as closely, but kept tabs on him just in case.

Abeloec was an interesting case, apparently he was the force behind the rebuilding efforts and the rising trade. Money was needed in the Empire, that was
always a given, but with Abeloec being the only one controlling it gave Aaridan cause to worry.
With the return of his sister, who knows what he will do... Tenshi's just as unpredictable as Pyrok. Though she may just vanish again.
Aaridan poured himself a goblet of a Dassan spirit called bourbon, of late he'd developed a taste for it, and continued well into the night reading the reports
and plotting as he did.

Long drawn out speeches of bloodshed, peppered with warcries and punctuated with the clash of sword on steel. Background wailing,
sobbing and echoing screams of torture, and a persistant, omnipresent sense of black dread.

A feeling of something writhing deep inside, devouring any hints of resistance. With a gasp, Pyrok woke up in chains at the Executioner's Square,
with Ivan and several others just outside the ring of torchlight. Briefly the world took on a red tinge and revealed people in masks, each with vicious talons standing along side Zinerva.
"Pyrok, you will immerse. Find the Ysallyran remnants and bring them all here." ordered Ivan, an imperious note in his voice.
"If you come across any others of the Forsaken, evict them from the shadows only. The have sided with Aaridan."
Zinerva rose from her palaquin, a focused look in her eyes.
Fail, and you shall be consumed from within.
Pyrok rose slowly, his limbs stiff and numb from the chains, looking at his arms the chains were gone as was Zinerva's all consuming focus.
A nudge in his mind was all his broken resistance would need, and immediately faded into the Shadows.
"Do you expect him to succeed?" asked one of the masked members.
"On his own? No, but he has his fool's luck."

Twisting paths, and again the sense of dread. Out of sight of his demonic oppressors, Pyrok's submissive appearance
vanished, and now a disgusted scowl twisted his mouth.
"Murdoch, tell me you've removed it from you."
Not entirely.... I've loosened its hold on us however. If she concentrates she can affect us.
Pyrok sighed, then stiffened as a dart flitted narrowly missed his nose.
Tucking into a crouch, the world took a red tinge and the smell of human flesh filled his nostrils.
"Leave this place filthy demon!"
"Roran, stay your hand. I want to hear what he has to say for himself."
It is Filch and Roran. There are others as well but I do not recognise their blood.
Pyrok raised his hands, retracting his talons.
I have asked Filch to release an orb of light. Hopefully he listens.
An orb of light began to hover over them, revealing four Assassins each garbed in their blacked out leathers.
"So, start talking. Traitor."
Pyrok winced inwardly, and took a deep breath.
Suddenly his insides felt like they were dipped in acid, and he was filled with a craven bloodlust
"....kill me." gasped Pyrok, with the last bit of clarity he had.
"What?"
"KILL ME!" roared Pyrok, his talons growing as he lunged for Roran's throat.
Three darts punctured his skin as his fangs tore open his throat, as the toxins begun pumping through his system,
Filch buried his dagger into his spine, as did several other daggers.
A foul stench filled the air, as did a black mist. Every one then began succumbing to various toxins.
With obvious physical effort, Pyrok leapt away from everyone gnashing his teeth.

Pulling a stiletto from his ribs Pyrok pointed at Roran, feebly clutching at his torn throat.
"Now listen to me. I don't have much time. The Golgonians have sent me to kill all of you. Either get out of here or I will."
"You've already killed Roran." spat Filch, "Though that's just one person you've murdered."
Pyrok grimaced, clutching his chest and fell to his knees.
"Listen to me Filch, I am speaking as plainly - argh! - as I can. Kill me, before I kill all of you. They did something to me,
I'm stronger than any before me... Kill me now. Or there will be no stopping me."
Pyrok's hand flung out, and Roran's body began to fade.
"Sedate him, then restrain him completely. I have questions that he needs to answer."