[center][hider=Content warnings.] What I consider the most graphic part of a violent scene is in a hider. But it's also referred to elsewhere.[/hider][/center]
[center] [h2] [color=008B8B] Ineraz Evrenarth [/color] [/h2] [sub] [b]Husband of:[/b] Sera [@Pupperr] and Zeldria [@Saltwater Thief]
[b]Interacting with:[/b] His brides, mostly Sera[/sub] [/center]
[color=008B8B]“Exactly,”[/color] Ineraz answered, feeling incredibly smug that he had brought such a delectably vengeful side out of his little one. Now he simply had to make use of it…

Just then another Drakkan guard came wandering into the sparsely furnished corridor they were occupying. The male’s eyes lit up, evidence that he found whom he was looking for, and he jogged up to Ineraz, offering him a sealed scroll.

“I was told to give this to you directly,” the male commented as he transferred the correspondence over to Ineraz, who accepted but didn’t yet glance at the scroll.

[color=008B8B]“Thank you,”[/color] Ineraz murmured. Then, before the guard could leave, he continued. [color=008B8B]“Senn,”[/color] he addressed the green-eyed Drakkan with cropped white hair [color=008B8B]“I will need you to watch over my brides instead of Thinil. [i]He[/i] is required [i]elsewhere[/i],”[/color] he stated meaningfully and rather darkly.

Ineraz finally perused the scroll, and recognized the seal immediately. He grinned maniacally, a perturbing obsessive glint appearing in his eyes. Sera, who was closest to him, might notice that his expression was somehow similar to when he had been conversing with her, though his desire this time was less so tied to thoughts of carnal pleasure – not that he’d exclude that entirely, but it wasn’t a priority in this case. Ineraz quickly recovered, assuming a neutral demeanour as he stashed the missive on the inside of his leather vest.

He put his arm around Sera and once again murmured to her shortly. [color=008B8B]“We can play with [i]him[/i] in the dungeons. It will be slightly dark and damp, but I hope you won’t have as much a problem with it as you did with the cellar. Wouldn’t want something like that to detract from the fun,”[/color] he leaned down a bit more and offered a short reassuring peck to her neck. Expecting her to follow, he strolled purposefully toward Thinil. The dark-haired guard had his light hazel eyes averted, though any guilt that one might presume from his posture alone was belied by his flaring nostrils and lips pressed tightly into a line. Ineraz put a warning hand around the nape of his neck, keeping his grip firm, and turned towards Zeldria and Senn.

[color=008B8B]“I have a matter requiring my attention,”[/color] Ineraz asserted coolly. He didn’t much care whether Zeldria and the new guard knew he was about to punish the other Drakkan or not. [color=008B8B]“Wait for me in the nearest sitting room. I shall return soon and then we are going to the market,”[/color] he directed this to Zeldria, then looked at the other guard. [color=008B8B]“Senn, find a replacement for guarding the front doors. I hope you will not be as remiss in your Gem-watching as Thinil here has been,”[/color] Ineraz delivered the last sentence very dryly, obviously still quite unhappy with the guard who had dared make an attempt at punishing Sera in his stead.

He let his gaze fall on Sera once again and beckoned her to follow him. They silently maneuvered through several corridors until they reached a medium-sized but unassuming iron doorway which opened into a long and winding staircase; a different one than Sera and Ineraz had taken the previous night to reach the cellar. This one was slightly wider and led deeper underground, and although it was somewhat better lit, the visibility still wasn’t impressive. The dungeon itself, however, was. The walls here were also made of grey stone, but the material was a darker, sturdier, and rougher one. The entirety of the floor was packed dirt which added to the distinctly earthy scent of the dungeons.

The staircase deposited them directly inside a rectangular room occupied by a single Drakkan guard, an older but vicious and wild looking individual with long white tangled hair and a somewhat better kept beard, who was sitting at a wooden table to the left. He appeared rather bored and was polishing a sword lazily. He barely looked at the arrivals, and only grunted when he saw Ineraz, not even giving a second glance to the Gem or the Drakkan guard who were with him, and returned to his task. This room was practically littered with torture implements, some hanging from thick rusty nails set into the walls, while others were simply placed on the floor or on display inside sturdy wooden cabinets. The equipment was thoroughly cleaned, though frequent use had left some obviously a bit worse for wear. But the implements were all perfectly well usable, not the least because replacing them was a simple matter. The dirt floor which was harder to take care of had several visible blood stains of various ages splattered around it and the iron scent meshed quite nicely with the natural dampness and earthy terrain that were predominant here.
 
Ineraz picked up a single whip and took one of the cell keys, never releasing Thinil who was apparently just slightly nervous now, then opened another iron door into a long spanning corridor lined with cells. There were several intersections opening to other similar corridors and the path Ineraz led them down would seem labyrinthine to a stranger such as Sera.

It was but a few minutes until they arrived at a cell just like any other and Ineraz unlocked it, roughly pushed Thinil in by increasing the pressure on his neck, waited until Sera stepped inside, then locked it back up. Once locked, the cells would be soundproof, though each door had a small lockable window any guard could use to check in on the prisoners. The cell was small and barren and could either be left entirely dark or very poorly lit. The fact that it was lit now was simply for Ineraz’s and Sera’s sake. Ominously, the only items in the cell were sturdy iron chains and shackles nailed into the walls.

[hider=The torture]
Ineraz handed the leather whip to Sera to hold it while he led the Drakkan guard to a wall and first restrained his ankles, then stripped him of his armour top – a crimson and light grey piece – and deposited it on the floor, locked a shackle around each of his wrists as well as collared him so that he had his cheek pressed into the wall. The chain lengths made it possible for the Drakkan guard to struggle, but his mobility was severely limited and escape was unlikely. As a small consideration, Ineraz took off Thinil’s leather belt, wound it twice around the male’s head, pushed the front between his teeth and tied it tightly behind his head.

[color=008B8B]“Do you know why you are to be punished?”[/color] he asked the gagged male icily. The other Drakkan shrugged sullenly. Ineraz pursued his lips, displeased. [color=008B8B]“You should have stopped my bride from crossing the boundary [i]without[/i] harming her. She is [i]mine[/i] to do with as I please. It was [i]not[/i] your place to correct her behaviour,”[/color] he explained this quietly but precisely.

Finally, Ineraz took the whip back from Sera. [color=008B8B]“Watch,”[/color] he instructed, then swung it expertly at the other Drakkan’s naked back. Each time Ineraz did so, a long red lash mark appeared on the male’s pale skin, decorating his back prettily in an almost random pattern of lines. The first set of hits Thinil took with barely a grunt. The next had him whimpering pitifully and moaning pathetically on occasion. As Ineraz continued the session, the Drakkan began screaming into his make-shift gag. Eventually, he sagged dejectedly into his restraints, though this brought a different kind of strain to his protesting muscles, and his exhaustion was obvious from his profuse sweating, shaking body, and the tears he had long stopped holding back. If the guard could plead, Ineraz imagined he would do so now. 

He flicked his wrist in several additional light swings to the muffled protests of Thinil, then neatly coiled the whip, holding it in his left hand as he observed the guard with quiet scrutiny. Not entirely satisfied, especially since Sera had not yet had the opportunity to cooperate, he drew out his dagger out of its belted sheath with his right and approached Thinil. The male Drakkan looked at him fearfully and wailed shortly. Ineraz met his eyes calmly then proceeded to cut into his back shallowly, tracing some of the lash marks with the blade. He picked several to peel the skin from slowly and painfully, revealing the abused meat underneath and getting the trembling and squealing Drakkan to bleed some more. He dropped the skin strips to the floor carelessly and confidently walked back to Sera, now satisfied.

[color=008B8B]“Be a dear and cauterize those for me?”[/color] he asked with a sweet, sweet smile, tone dripping almost cheerful contentment and apparent gratification. [color=008B8B]“But no nerve damage,”[/color] he murmured in warning. [/hider]

After that little detour, Ineraz led Sera back to the first dungeon room, where the elder Drakkan and the other torture implements were. He returned the whip and the key, ensured that someone would look after Thinil’s wounds properly and release him from the cell. With that done, he walked back to the first floor leisurely with Sera at his side. He searched for the room Zeldria was in and left Sera with her, Senn now in charge of watching them both.

[color=008B8B]“As soon as I return we shall head to the market,”[/color] he informed his brides. Then, he turned on his heel, and strode with purpose towards his study, where he knew he would have some privacy.

The study was small and plain, containing only a desk, a chair behind it, two bookcases, and a dark coloured settee which had seen better days. There was a single landscape painting hanging on the wall behind his desk, and several hunting trophies were mounted on the walls. Three smaller trophies were on his desk; one was an intricately carved black hoof serving as a paper-weight, another was a capped-off curled and hollowed horn sitting upright which had been designed as a rather fancy ink-holder, and the last was a somewhat more innocuous set of a wooden case lined with very fine fur on the inside, which held a high-quality quill pen the colour of steel grey and flecked with shimmering greens, fashioned from the feather of a noble but dangerous bird of prey.

Ineraz sat behind the ebony desk, and carefully took out the scroll he had received, taking his time to just observe the seal of Kereg-Kor. He opened the missive carefully and couldn’t help breaking out in a pleased laugh. Not only was Keregar the best Drakkan hunter and arguably the most vicious Warlord, he was also one of the oldest and most well-known members of their society. And for such person to express an interest in him…Ineraz traced the signature reverently, letting himself enjoy the moment of simple pleasure and excitement at being recognized for a short while.

Then, Ineraz composed himself with a sigh. There were [i]political[/i] implications to this as well. Keregar was an individual who obviously favoured the elder prince, while Ineraz’s father was, as far as he knew, closer to the younger one and likely intended for the whole Evrenarth family to swear allegiance to him when the time was right. It wouldn’t do for his father to perceive any meeting with Keregar or future arrangements Ineraz might have as a betrayal. No, if Ineraz were to have any sort of contact with the Warlord of Kereg-Kor (perhaps even accompany the elder Drakkan to his estate as one of the chosen few, Ineraz dared hope), it would have to be entirely non-political. With a silent sigh, Ineraz wrote a letter of his own, choosing his wording carefully. He wanted his father to know the state of things. And as much as Ineraz sometimes genuinely loathed the man, he still respected him. And truthfully, he was intrigued by the younger prince’s ideas as well if not particularly charmed by what he knew of his demeanour. Meeting Keregar and perhaps even going to Kereg-Kor would not change that.

And if Ineraz had memorized the scent carried by the scroll, that was only for him to know. He did ensure to destroy Keregar’s missive as he wouldn’t want to leave such a thing lying around, and he most certainly couldn’t afford to keep it on his person at all times. He was well aware that the Warlord of Kereg-Kor wouldn’t be impressed by any kind of worship. Ineraz did not believe that acting with his usual professionalism would be any hardship; he did not [i]like[/i] the man or even agree with him, he simply held a great deal of respect for him, or rather, for his hunting pursuits.

He stashed the letter he had written for his father on his person just as he had Keregar’s scroll, unlocked the room’s door, and went from the second to the third floor, where his father’s study was. There was a guard standing outside – there always was at least one, regardless of whether his father was inside or even in Železna Kri at all. Ineraz handed the letter which was sealed with the Evrenarth coat-of-arms to the guard. 

[color=008B8B]“For my Lord father,”[/color] Ineraz commented. The male guard took it without even glancing at the message and knocked swiftly on the door. Ineraz barely concealed the sharp intake of breath he took, his blood freezing cold for the brief second where his heart stuttered twice, then returned to its usual beat, though he was still wildly surprised at the fact that his father was apparently at the estate, and he hadn’t even known since when that had been the case.

“My Lord wishes to see you,” the soot-skinned dark-eyed and dark-haired male Drakkan guard informed him.

Ineraz composed himself with a breath and entered one of the manor’s most opulent rooms. It was done in the same rustic style as the rest of the rooms, only much richer and despite the obvious decadence it was very tastefully composed. There was a wide, beautifully carved and elegant desk standing opposite the entrance, eight bookshelves arranged around the desk, an alcohol cabinet worthy of jealousy not far from where Na’ir was perusing several documents at his work-space, a seemingly new royal blue settee to the left of the doorway which was decorated with a variety of shimmering silken fabrics and comfortable pillows, and was partially hidden behind a delicately placed golden-coloured partition. There were four chairs in the room, one occupied by Ineraz’s father and three empty ones in front Na’ir’s desk. Barely visible between two bookshelves was a seemingly nondescript wooden door. The walls and floor were a light grey stonework but were mostly covered by an eclectic array of paintings, tapestries, rugs, and even a few potted plants here and there. All of the wooden furniture was a matching dark mahogany.

Na’ir himself managed to appear professional despite practically being sprawled in his chair, smoking his thin pipe elegantly. His clothing was a combination of black and teal with golden trimmings fitting nicely with the healthy tan of his skin-tone (a contrast to Ineraz’s own snowy pallor) and the dark brown of his upward curling horns, his hair a shade lighter and hanging almost to his waist in a mix of dreadlocks and braids. This was a man who obviously appreciated his creature comforts, but if anyone were fool enough to assume he was not a threat, they would not live long enough to be even able to consider otherwise, much less regret their mistake. Perhaps it was simply because Ineraz knew him well enough, but to him the intelligent and coolly assessing gleam in his father’s eyes conveyed everything. This was a Drakkan more than deserving of his title as a Warlord, and someone who could and would rip just about anyone to shreds whether with words or actions – if he had cause to. Currently, Na’ir was tapping lightly at a missive, one that Ineraz recognized as his own, and the older Drakkan’s usual amused smile, cultured demeanour, and knowing gaze were fully present.

[color=008B8B]“Father,”[/color] Ineraz greeted carefully, perhaps a bit stiffly. His gaze landed uncomfortably on the message which he had written to inform Na’ir of his future meeting with the Warlord of Kereg-Kor.

[color=CD5C5C]“This is not entirely unexpected,”[/color] Na’ir went straight to the business. [color=CD5C5C]“I wish you had discussed it with me, but I dare say you are now truly independent,”[/color] his tone was as light and non-threatening as ever, however Ineraz couldn’t help but feel that there was a hint of mockery and condescension in it.

Before he could say anything whatsoever in his defence or as an explanation, his father continued. [color=CD5C5C]“You should know that if you ever find yourself on the opposite side of the battle-field I will not hesitate to cut you down. Neither will any of your brothers,”[/color] this time, he was cuttingly firm. His smile however had not yet slipped and Ineraz wondered if he ever felt the strain in his cheek muscles from keeping up the unnecessarily pleasant façade.
 
[color=CD5C5C]“Now.”[/color] Ineraz thought he might be dismissed, but there was just the hint of someth- [color=CD5C5C]“I have heard how you punished one of my guards,”[/color] Na’ir stated dryly, raising an amused eyebrow. Ineraz inhaled sharply and his eyes widened just a fraction, but it was more than enough for his father to catch and understand his surprise.

His sire chuckled richly and Ineraz shivered minutely. [color=CD5C5C]“Yes, I have found out already. This [i]is[/i] my manor,”[/color] he stated. Ineraz refrained from sighing even though he was beginning to see where this was going. [color=CD5C5C]“If I truly hadn’t been here, as you so obviously believed, you would have got away with your [i]mistake[/i],”[/color] Na’ir said with what passed fairly well for regret, but his subtle emphasis on that last word belied his tone. 

[color=CD5C5C]“Your misconception, not to mention hypocrisy,”[/color] he drawled, disappointment now clear, [color=CD5C5C]“requires you to be punished,”[/color] he stated, pausing for a moment as he apparently considered how he would do so. [color=CD5C5C]“The same methods you have had the guard undergo, I believe.”[/color] Na’ir’s honeyed smile could have misled the most feral of killer bees. Ineraz however had to work rather hard to contain a wince or a scowl. Instead, he squared his shoulders and looked his father straight in the eyes.

[color=008B8B]“I understand,”[/color] he assured as calmly as he managed. Considering what was to come, he thought it was a very respectable attempt. And it was probably only due to one of his deeply hidden desires that made Ineraz think he saw a hint of pride in Na’ir’s stormy grey eyes for the span of a single second.

Na’ir smoothly stood up, not ruffling a single document out of its place, and walked with very efficient movements toward the other door, the one positioned between two bookshelves, and opened it, revealing what Ineraz already knew to be the Drakkan’s private torture chamber. Because of course he had to keep such a thing up here. Compared to the dungeons, this room was much cleaner, better lit, and had less implements for causing torment, but it served its purpose. Na’ir considered it the punishing room, which he mostly used to correct his sons’ behaviour when they truly crossed a line. After Ineraz followed his father inside, the door closed behind them with a soft click.

[center][b]~[/b][/center]
When Na’ir was done, Ineraz was [i]glad[/i] for the chains. And though the gag muffled his cries (and prevented him from accidentally biting off his tongue), there was no such thing as stopping the damnable tears once his father went well past his pain tolerance. Na’ir was nothing if not fair – Ineraz had made a guard of his cry, and his father followed exactly the same procedure; he had had him bound, whipped, cut, and burned just a bit. Now, he was applying a soothing herbal mixture by rubbing it into his back, and as helpful as it would be for his wounds, it didn’t make Ineraz scream any less. Soon after, he was bandaged and unbound. Ineraz felt rather faint and trembled with the effort it took to stay standing up.

[color=CD5C5C]“I suggest you hurry up and go to your meeting place. The Warlord of Kereg-Kor isn’t one to be left idly waiting,”[/color] Na’ir’s tone was the picture of neutrality, and having said that he simply made his exit. Ineraz was grateful his father hadn’t made more of a fuss or used the opportunity to humiliate him any further.

Shakily, he put on his cloth shirt and the upper part of his leather armour, took several moments to regain his breathing, and used his water elemental control to rid himself of sweat and tears. Then he hastily left, going past his father in his study room without a word, and made his way to the nearest empty guest room to make use of a mirror. The thought that his eyes might be puffy almost made him laugh hysterically. Thankfully, his appearance was easily enough corrected, though his posture was now more rigid and his gait just a hint slower. It would have to do.

Pushing the burning and throbbing pain of his back muscles to a corner of his mind, Ineraz proceeded with the day’s plans and went to fetch his brides. They were ensconced with Senn in a quaint sitting room on the ground floor. Ineraz barely glanced at any of them as he entered and simply said [color=008B8B]“We’re going.”[/color] Then he turned, guiding them to the backyard.

From nearby the outside training grounds Ineraz picked up some of the weapons he had left there, taking his sword and bow alongside the dagger and hunting knife he rarely went without. As much as it added to his pain to carry the bow and quiver full of arrows strapped over his back, that was simply not something he could go without for meeting with the greatest hunter of Drakka.

Finally, he led them to the stables on the other side of the backyard, where he arranged for a wagon and four of his hounds to go along. The Gems could ride inside the wagon if they so wished, and doing so would certainly give them some privacy, but the scent of animals lingered heavily because the vehicle had often been used to transport captured beasts, slain prey, and his hounds’ pups. He let the hounds, who were large and bulky enough to easily reach the Gems’ knees and top their mass get briefly acquainted with his brides, but was unusually quiet for what would otherwise be an intriguing occasion to him. An hour or so before his scheduled meeting their little group made it to the market, where he would let his brides choose whichever clothing they desired, as long as they picked at least some that would be practical. Either way, he had final say on any piece they might pick out, though he didn’t intend to object too much. He had to conserve what little energy he had right now and prepare mentally for the meeting with Warlord Keregar of Kereg-Kor.

[hider=Summary] A guard comes with the scrolls from Keregar and he also gets to watch the brides instead of the previous guard, who's taken to the dungeons and tortured. Sera's taken there to watch and can cooperate if she wants to. Then Ineraz takes Sera to a random sitting room, where Zel and the new guard are while he goes to hype about Keregar's letter in his private study. Has a slightly creepy fanboyish moment, but never you mind that. Decides to write a letter for his father. Gets to unexpectedly meet the man. Who knows when he arrived in Železna Kri? Has some meaningful father-son bonding moments. Then he [i]finally[/i] takes his brides to the market. Have fun with the shopping spree, darlings.[/hider]
[hider=Reference pic]
Na'ir Evrenarth, Ineraz's father. 
[center][IMG]http://i65.tinypic.com/kdali9.png[/IMG][/center]
He probably actually wears just a bit less jewelry. 
[/hider]