The Queen had just told Reaver with great certainty of what horrific events were about to befall Albion. She sought his help, but time was growing short and the Crawler was closing in, along with his shadowy minions. He could not be here for this.
The industrial tycoon sat at his desk, drafting a letter to vaguely explain his absence, and he paused. Suddenly, a disturbing memory surfaced, chilling him to his core...
The Reaver had crashed ashore on a curious little cove. His crew had all perished when he'd thrown them overboard for one reason or another. He could not quite remember. He'd enjoyed quite a few brandies the night before. After making his annual tribute to the Shadow Court, Reaver always found himself in want of a warm, sunny place with plenty of exotic fruit, foods, and scantily clad people.
Exhausted from his journey and rather distraught over the death of his mighty vessel, Reaver disembarked. The moment his heavy boots sunk into the sand, he began removing all unnecessary articles of clothing. There had been no one around to see him, much to his disappointment.
"Ahh..." Reaver groaned as he dipped into the cooler sea water. The blazing sun was relentlessly beating down upon him, and dehydrated from the alcohol he'd consumed the evening before, he had known that the wise choice would be to seek shelter.
Wearing only the shredded remains of what used to be rather flattering pants, he made his way inland as he pulled his Dragonstomper from the pile of discarded clothes. He inspected his prized pistol, thanking the gods that it had not been one of the shipwreck's casualties. "Thank goodness you are unharmed, mon tresor," He kissed the barrel, a soft sigh of contentment escaping him.
It didn't take keen eyes such as his to notice the rather large cave entrance set into a rocky, impossibly tall cliffside.
The place was drenched in darkness, and Reaver cursed softly. His thoughts drifted to The Shadow Judges in Wraithmarsh, and how this place reeked of their presence. He'd just sailed for two weeks to escape their shadowy grasp, yet here he was, amidst darkness once more.
"Oh, bother," He sighed, squinting into the pitch black depths of the cave. He wished that he would have spared one of his crew to carry a lantern for him, but what was done could not be undone. He took a few steps forward, trying to acclimate himself in the cave's dark recesses.
"You, too, are a creature of Darkness," said a booming, ominous voice.
Reaver rolled his eyes, placing his hands on his hips. Leaning against a nearby cave wall he scoffed, "I've had quite enough of you figments of shadow and darkness. Be gone!"
"You and I are not so unalike, Reaver. Your soul is tainted with the very corruption that fuels my existence. Your presence...is intoxicating," the Crawler responded.
"Speaking of intoxicated," Reaver began. "Something to drink would be very much appreciated. Or do you have nothing to offer a guest in your lovely...er...abode?" He tried to be accommodating, for he was not sure of his surroundings. This other person, or creature could be dangerous, and the fact that it knew his name without him having given it, made him uneasy. He could feel eyes on him, and the exhibitionist in him nearly wanted to flash a dazzling smile. He stayed his flirtatiousness to hear his host's reply.
The Crawler's voice moved closer, rumbling the very wall that Reaver posted himself against. "Be wary of your thoughts, for they cannot hide from me. I have penetrated the minds of many an adventurer, and you are not the first to come inside my lair seeking that which only I can give."
"Hmmm, I do find I am rather fond of penetration," Reaver quipped with a crooked grin. "As well as coming inside, though, we hardly know each other. Perhaps a drink would whet my appetite for such conversation." He ran his hand across the disheveled curls of his ebony hair. As the creature grew closer, he could feel its cool breath against his bare skin. It felt divine in contrast to the sweltering heat he'd sought shelter from. A soft sigh of satisfaction left his lips, and his eyes fluttered shut.
"Your use of innuendo may fool the pitiful, weak minds of a lesser being. You possess a level of darkness that I have never before seen. I can see through you. So alone. So old... So soulless."
"Old? I beg your pardon," He snapped, his eyes opening, peering into the darkness to seek out The Crawler, who dared to insult his vanity. He blindly groped at the creature to push it away, but he found that its flesh was cool and refreshing just as its breath had been. He was half-tempted to wrap his arms and legs around the thing and revel in its icy embrace.
"As old as you are, I am older. As strong as you are, I am stronger... Drink of my fountain. Accept the gifts which only I can offer. Do not be an ungracious guest," The Crawler raised a clawed arm as dark, inky liquid trickled from his fingers.
In the darkness, Reaver could feel the liquid dripping down his well-defined torso. It felt rather nice, but at the same time, he couldn't be entirely sure what this liquid was. "So...I drink this, yes?" His hesitation melted away when he realized how very thirsty he really was. No matter what this drink may be, he'd probably had worse. He moved to let the liquid dribble between his lips, and it was surprisingly potent. Almost immediately, his legs swayed beneath him, and a light, dizzy feeling took over his head. He slid down the wall, giggling gently. "My goodness, what ever was that? I must take some home with me."
"Yes. Drink deeply, soulless one," the abomination caught the pirate with one arm as he held the other up to feed the man a constant stream of his essence. "Drink of me so that I may tap into your darkness. There is nothing you desire more than for someone to touch your tainted-"
"My taint, you say? Oh, my new friend, you have quite the devious mind," He chuckled. "Or perhaps word of my appetite truly has traveled to all corners of the globe." His voice felt disconnected. Whatever he was drinking from the creature had remarkable hallucinogenic effects. The floor seemed to vibrate beneath his feet, and his skin ached to be touched. "Hmmm I really must find a way to replicate the effects of this substance."
"You are mine now," the Crawler lay the weakened man on the cold, stone floor, tearing away the shreds of his only remaining garments. "You tire of your travels, your burdens, the cries of those who die for you-"
"I tire of your constant jabbering of darkness and shadow and quite frankly, your knowledge of my insides is disturbing, to say the least...not to mention, that I am now rather naked, and slightly aroused." He lifted the stiff evidence of his excitement, and gripped it momentarily before letting it fall against his body, a soft 'smack' ringing against the cavernous walls.
"Stay, so that I can drink of you as you have me. I crave the darkness inside you." The Crawler paused, peering through the darkness to inspect Reaver's throbbing appendage. "Impressive, but I am going to insist that you turn over now, so that I may begin the extraction."
"Aren't we pushy?" Reaver noted, but he did as he was instructed, thrusting his rear into the air to display its perfection proudly. "This is hardly fair, you must realize. You can obviously see my perfect form, but I have yet to see a shred of you. There is no need to be shy, mon ami. I have had lovers of all shapes and sizes. I do not discriminate...much."
The Crawler loomed over a now-subdued Reaver, his long, claw-like fingers reaching down to hold his captive in place.
"My, what big hands you have! I can only imagine-"
Before Reaver could finish his rambling, the dark entity tapped into his vulnerability to begin the carnal process of siphoning that which would sustain him.
Reaver, feeling particularly spent and rather sore, rolled onto his back. He hissed from the discomfort he felt in his rear. The hallucinogenic effects of whatever his host had given him were wearing off quickly. "That was interesting, to say the least, but I really think I should be on my way."
Now that Reaver's darkness swirled inside him, melding with his own, the Crawler felt stronger than ever before. He felt a strange, but deep connection to the man who had just provided him immeasurable pleasure and fulfillment. "I cannot allow you to leave now. You must understand that I have a need to keep you."
Reaver scoffed at the proposition, and he pushed himself to his feet. "And that is why I must go. Reaver is not simply kept. I am a free and libidinous man. I cannot possibly be satisfied with you, mysterious as you are." A sudden flash of brilliance came upon him, and he bent to search for his discarded trousers. He found the fine silver lighter after only a few moments, then his Dragonstomper, and he sparked a flame.
What he saw both shocked and horrified him. The creature that had just had its way with him was a wretched-looking thing with disgusting tendrils of flesh covering its mouth, and too many black eyes. A scream that was a few pitches higher than even the most mouthy trollop he'd been with escaped him, and he nearly dropped his lighter. "What in the bloody void are you?"
The Crawler cast a thick, inky substance onto Reaver in an attempt to keep his lover from leaving. "ARE YOU BLIND? ARE YOU BLIND YET?"
"Thankfully so!" Reaver sighed, but then he realized that blindness was not quite the blessing he thought it would have been. He needed to escape, and luck was not on his side. He was now blind, nude and stranded in an unfamiliar land. "Now, I must bid you farewell, and a fine fuck you. I have no intention of ever returning." He groped the wall, seeking an exit, and he found a breeze to follow.
In a panic, the Crawler attempted to penetrate his captive's mind again. "It doesn't matter if you leave. I am inside you. Your heart, your lungs, your thoughts will all be blackened now."
"There are laws against this sort of thing in more civilized cultures," Reaver spat. "I will give you one last chance to let me go in peace, or you shall sorely regret ever getting inside of me." He brandished his dragonstomper wildly. "And you obviously do not know me as well as you think you do. My thoughts and heart were black before you even thought about touching me."
Now nearing his breaking point, the Crawler made one last attempt to keep his lover inside his lair. If he could not keep him, no one should be able to have him. The thought was unbearable. "You have done such hurtful things to me. The people you know shall rejoice in your death, and I can bring that about swiftly. Do not let it come to that. Stay here with me, and together we will command the shadows."
"Death does not have a hold on me," Reaver spat. "You, however..." He pointed in the direction of The Crawler's voice, and he let off a few rounds before making his way toward the breeze and freedom.
The Crawler was both shocked and hurt by this act of betrayal. "How could you?! Have you not fallen in love with me as I have you? Does the melding of our dark souls mean nothing to you?" He felt an unfamiliar liquid trickling from his many eyes and he could not bring himself to end Reaver.
"Next to nothing," he returned, continuing down the corridor. He could hear the ocean beating against the shore, and he knew he was close to his destination. "It was fun while it lasted, but nothing more. You could never have a hold on me. No one has yet, and no one ever will."
As the Crawler retreated back into the deep, dark cavern, he cried out in desperation, "I will come for you! Wherever you go, I will seek you out...and I will not be alone next time!"
Reaver had experienced his share of disgruntled, dejected lovers, but this creature was by far the worst, and most unfortunate-looking. An involuntary shudder worked its way down his spine, and he continued sprinting toward the sound of the sea.
He dipped his pen into the inkpot, and he sighed. The letter was complete, but he'd left out some of the more lurid details of his reasons for avoiding dark creature. He couldn't have anyone know of The Crawler's true reasons for invading Albion. It surely wanted to make him its bride? Groom? The very thought made his stomach churn unpleasantly.
He had other issues to think of. Not only did he have The Shadow Court to appease-and this posed the perfect opportunity to flee his scorned...lover-he had to be sure to avoid any contact with The Crawler and its forces. It would certainly be keeping a keen eye out for him. The pathetic creature had actually wept, if he remembered correctly.
What if the thing did find him? The violated hole involuntarily seized up with fear at the memory of his horrifying experience in Aurora, and he tried to shake the dread away. "You are Reaver. Of course the thing wants you, but it cannot have you. You are above it, and you are over this issue." He chewed on his lip slightly as the feeling of violation crept across him once more.
He sighed, pouring the deep red wax on the paper, and he stamped it with his seal. "There. That should be sufficient. I am sure that my dear Queen will be able to handle The Crawler without me." She'd certainly amassed enough funds to outfit her soldiers by following his lead, and that pleased him to no end. When all of this was over, maybe he would finally be able to sleep on his stomach again without fear of The Darkness creeping up on him.
A/N: Bet you never would have guessed when Reaver took off shortly before the arrival of The Crawler, that perhaps something a bit more disturbing was behind his compulsion to flee. Well, we did at least...and as you should know by now, we enjoy bringing you some of the most unlikely scenarios from this lovely fandom.
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