[hr][hr][center][img]https://i.postimg.cc/50VBWNfh/63507c917b644ae085a53d695ad43269.png[/img]
[img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/2fa3b68ea7ccb5e241580009fa3f8dfe/tumblr_nrjjdcXvK71uq1wtvo1_500.gif[/img][/center][hr][hr][h3][b][i][center][color=8519A2]Arc I - Terreille in Trouble[/color][/center][/i][/b][/h3]
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[center][h3][color=8519A2]Location: Winton[/color][/h3]
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Faeril considered the questions carefully as she traced a finger over her hand in a random pattern. [color=SlateBlue]"Any member of the Hourglass, any Black Widow who knows how could make another a Black Widow and train them. A dangerous process and not one anyone would undertake lightly. However, I will tell you now Mikhail. I do not believe anyone would create an army of my kind. Black Widows are dangerous and hard to control, especially if the Queens wish to remain in power."[/color] If it was only a Queen behind this corruption, though Faeril did not say such. There was no need to bring more worry upon the man. [color=SlateBlue]"I have no idea, where he would be other than where you saw him last Mikhail. Gen?"[/color] The large Eyrien Warlord shrugged in agreement. For all he was trying to remain impassive, he was worried about having to find the infamous Warlord Prince. The Black was the strongest jewel and would be a terror to try and force. Shaking her head, Faeril sighed and leaned in her chair. [color=SlateBlue]"I wish I knew more of what happened when Fatima did meet him. I should have questioned her."[/color]

The sky above Winton was peaceful and from the top down it looked like a child's dream. Colorful roofs that could use a fresh layer of paint from the weathering, but that was still pleasant to the eye. The roads winding towards the market cut clear out in their well used paths as they wound into the hills or trailed along the coast. The white sand of the beaches a pleasant border to the crashing blue-green waves. Winton was the picture of the idyllic life that anyone would seek who wanted a lovely seat by the sea. No one seemed to notice the pair as Sybl walked them over the city towards the darker cliffs that held a pristine white beach protected from storms.

The sand was a fine grain, but there were not the depressions of regular use. The sandcastles from children could be seen further from the small town. A good walk, but not unreasonable. This cove to Fatima felt slightly off. Something was unclean about it. As the waves gave their gentle song against the shore, Fatima couldn't see anything out of place. But the few poles sticking out of the sea which might have secured a dock at one time. The path leading up the steep slope was well cleared and neatly paved, but a smaller path wound out from it along the edge of the beach and cliff towards a small depression that was in the base. If she looked closer she might see it was a small cave made by the pummeling waves into the weakened rock. Around it was scattered boulders and slabs of stone that looked to have fallen from the slight overhang above.

Within the cave, Saetan stiffened. He felt a familiar presence and was torn between wanting to see what had come to the beach and retreating further into the cave. As it was, he was in one of the carved stone benches that some Queen had put in the cave for entertainment. When it was in use by one of those twisted bitches, it would be cleaned beforehand and softened with cushions. As it was the stone had been dried by this Craft and his coat, now ruined, was serving as the only cushion. Raising himself up on his elbows, he glanced towards the entrance before twisting to sit up. Wracked with pain he couldn't quite hide it from his Sending to Sybl. [i][color=Gold]"Who did you bring?"[/color][/i] The Warlord Prince certainly did not bother to hide the annoyance in his tone as he crooned, [i][color=Gold]"Sybl... You know I do not care for Queens. I can smell her from in here."[/color][/i] And he did not want to be found and betrayed while his back still felt raw from the beating and whipping from Laska. A distraction he had paid well for. Yet Laska had only grown more furious as he refused to accommodate her sick wishes and increased the torment til Saetan had been unable to bear it.

His chest and back was a mess of cuts, deep and shallow, some infected some not. His hands were bruised and cut from the guards, his wrists and ankles showing the wear of restraints. Old blood stained his skin, but most of it was hardly his. He had made sure Laska's court would be remembered. Their bodies twisted and ruined, while Laska sat with terror stretched across her face as she was twisted in the agony his poison induced. He had used all his skill to prolong her suffering, and he had reveled in it.

As Dareen followed the tracks of Dunny and Thom, she soon found the 'hound' leading the boy out of a dead-end alley. Spying the Pruulish witch, Dunny wagged his tail and gleefully moved to jump on her. Then he saw Jandar and felt the rage rolling off the Warlord. Pausing the young Sceltie looked a bit puzzled. *[i]Dareen! We were following the strange 'in air' trail, did we do something wrong?[/i]* Jandar's anger was worrying the young Sceltie and Dunny was not very positive he wasn't doing something he wasn't supposed to. Thom looked between the three and remained silent, thinking better than to say something that might or might not confirm either way.