Friday, January 2, 2015

Page 29

Gregor Abney would never be mistaken for an attractive man. He didn’t seem to have a firm grasp on shaving, though he clearly insisted on trying. He also seemed to be hiding poor personal hygiene with fancy clothes and “exotic” perfumes which, Sithe mused as she watched him from her vigil in a dark corner of his basement, only made him as disgusting as the rest of the noble class in Moonguard.

However, this added to the other unsavory things Sithe knew about the man’s character, and the image was thoroughly ... unflattering, to put it so lightly that it might well flutter away in a stiff breeze.

Sithe had come to realize that to gain the truest measure of a man, it was necessary to catch him at his most comfortable. Not at his most vulnerable, or his most impeccable, but simply when he thought no one else was watching. Typically this meant alone at home. But for a man like Abney, home was just a single layer. This basement, with its selection of shackles and chains and observation tables, was the depth of it. The dark, dank truth.

Runes were carved into the stone walls. The same runes that Sithe drew to summon her ... pets. But permanent. And, she realized quickly, sloppy. Just looking at them was enough to send a shudder down her spine. She thought the feeling running through her must be what a practiced musician feels when a tiny child picks up a badly-tuned instrument and bangs it against the floor.

There were no books, no scrolls, no diagrams. Sithe wondered how this man possibly managed to perform the sorts of acts that Fezzik posited he did. Just looking at him, at the top of the stairs leading down into this sanctum, she could tell that he wasn’t suited to memorize anything, least of all complex incantations and chants in a language specifically designed to bring nightmares to life.

A language that was dangerous. Deadly. It skittered across the tongue like so many spiders, just waiting for a moment of weakness to bite, inject, melt, ingest. It didn’t do to deal in magic of this caliber without copious training and preparation.

This place was far too haphazard. It looked like a place to perform sick fantasies on livestock; not even rituals, but purely secular sadism.

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