As I'm sure you're all eager to learn how Zaan's test went, I'm putting this up sooner than I would normally have done, mostly because I'd already written it when I put chapter 2 up, which isn't how it normally happens for me.
Also, for any of you who care, due to a point made by Rahvin Dashiva, I've changed the 'Mark of Slaanesh' branding into simply a 'Slaaneshi symbol'; the true mark being normally reserved for those whom Slanesh has directly blessed.
The threat of death is perhaps the most effective way to focus a man's mind. He had no particular desire to surrender his identity, and he wasn't too fond of the one Liasha wanted him to have, but it had significance, which meant it was worth something. If he could find out what it was, he might be able to find away to escape his captivity.
He ran toward Slaa'Khar, ignoring his lack of weapons, armour, or even decency. He swung his fist wildly, and though he was certain it was on a direct collision course, the man suddenly wasn't there anymore. A finger tapped his shoulder, and he turned round, to a fist crashing into his cheek, metal encased, and strong, stronger even than the unnatural strength Liasha had shown.
As he lay on the floor, he lashed out behind him with his leg, trying to scythe his opponent's legs out from under him, but he was rewarded with a foot slamming down, sending a shock of pain up his leg. It wasn't the pain Liasha inflicted, which was so extreme that it became almost pleasurable. This was Pain. Inflicted with malice and anger. It was pain that told you your leg was being crushed by a being who wanted nothing more than to her it snap.
Gritting his teeth, he rolled onto his side, and shot out his other foot at Slaa'Khar's knee. Somehow, it too moved just in time. The Slaaneshi Champion leaping back away from his target, a mad glee playing in his eyes. Running back in, he planted one foot firmly in the earth, and slammed the other hard into Zaan's stomach, catching him up and flinging him into the air.
As Zaan hit the ground some feet away, he wondered when he'd started thinking of himself by that name. He shook his head, and staggered to his feet again.
Slaa'Khar paused, "You are resilient, Vicious; but are you fast enough to survive?" He charged again, his mouth opening slightly, an image which suddenly reminded Zaan of the Wolf-beast he had fought. It's defences had seemed impenetrable as well, but he had managed to dispatch it. All he needed to do here, was hit the man.
He saw the Slaaneshi raise his fist to strike down, and grabbed it, pulling it across him, and spinning round, to crash his leg into the Champion's back. Both men staggered, but neither fell. The leg he'd used had been the same one almost broken by the Champion's stomp. He tried not to put too much weight on it, and couldn't move enough when Slaa'Khar rounded on him, both fury and desire burning in his eyes, and grasped his shoulders, lifting him so they were face to face. A jerking pull, and their chests were pressed together. The Warrior's arms wrapping around him in an embrace. His multi-layered voice whispering in his ear. "Looks like my Glorious was right about you." His tongue, as snake-like as his fangs, flicked out, and licked up Zaan's cheek. He chuckled. "You really are Delicious, Zaan."
Slaa'Khar placed him down, and strode over to Liasha's immobile form, and scooped her up delicately, Zaan noticing for the first time, just how much the man towered over the petite female. The warrior's face was softer when he turned back around, gazing down at the slumbering woman. "She's truly beautiful when she's asleep." He switched his appraisal to Zaan, to whom it was again clear that all through the sparring, and the preceding conversation, he had been utterly without clothing. He just thanked his good fortune that he'd been too preoccupied to realise that Liasha had been too.
He desperately tried to think about anything but her; and failed. This, predictably caused a reaction, which did not go unnoticed. Slaa'Khar looked brazenly down at Zaan's undeniable agreement, and smirked, "You think so too. That's good. A slave should appreciate his master, or mistress." He turned away, saying "Mistress is a fantastic word isn't it? Every usage praises the Prince of Desire in some way or another." He returned to his tent as he spoke, and Zaan realised that he was expected to follow.
Falling into step behind the confusing Slaaneshi, he noticed that the man walked with a distinct sway. It was different from the swing of a woman's hips, and yet, his masculinity found it equally hypnotic. He was so confused by everything that had happened in such a short length of time. Barely twelve hours before, he was the heir of Parravon, renowned for his fervour in battle, and his skill with both lance and sword. Now, it seemed abundantly clear by the brand on his face, that he was the possession of some chaos pleasure witch, and her insane snake-man lover. He was being dragged along by these events, and reasoned that his only course of action was to try and stay afloat in his sea of confusion.
Slaa'Khar was waiting outside the flap of his tent, and for a moment, Zaan stood there too, wondering what was happening; until it hit him. A slave did practically everything for his master.
He gripped the edge of the material, and stood aside to allow entry. Slaa'Khar smiled at the woman he cradled, still unconscious, in his arms; "A fast learner as well. You really did know what you were doing, my magnificent."
Zaan heard a whimper from inside, and after his mistress… No. After Liasha had been carried in, he entered, letting the material fall over the opening. The instant he entered, he was stunned by the thick scent in the air. It was similar to that in Liasha's, but harsher, and it hit his lungs like a heavy blow.
The whimpering he'd heard before entering became louder now he was within, and it came from somewhere to his right. Hardly daring to look, he turned his head slowly. His breath, already difficult, caught in his throat.
The being was human, that much was obvious, as was her gender. Each of her limbs was chained to a single thick ring embedded in the ground. These chains were held on her by means of an extensive network of leather straps criss-crossing all over her, including one over her eyes, and inside her mouth. The hair that was visible on her head was cut randomly, as though by barely aimed sword strokes. The skin which showed seemed to have suffered similar treatment, the pale raised lines of scar tissue a testament to the brutality her master inflicted.
"I found her after we raided her village three days ago. Her screams were so delightful as I violated and murdered her parents that I just had to keep her."
Slaa'Khar's voice was so calm, it was as though he had described a normal courtship, rather than a brutal scene that made Zaan want to throw up. He glanced at her again, and as she squirmed, somehow seeming to feel his gaze, asked with a dry throat, "Three days?"
He felt gloved hands slide across his chest, and the multi-tiered voice which sounded so beguiling, even when threatening murder, and made the poor girl wriggle in pleasure, spoke in his ear; "Two actually, I didn't have much time to spare for her yesterday." His voice betrayed little pride in turning a Brettonian girl into little more than a whimpering slave, whose body reacted so vividly to simply hearing her master's voice.
While trying to discretely move Slaa'Khar's hands, which had begun to rub in disturbing patterns across his chest, Zaan continued; "But, the scars?"
"Shallow cuts, She shuddered so entrancingly when all I did was slap her, I had to see what happened. Her reaction was so enjoyable I couldn't stop." He released Zaan, much to his relief, and moved to kneel next to his own slave. "Shall we take it further?" His head flicked round to Zaan, and his long forked tongue wrapped around a fang as he grinned openly. Zaan was unable to respond, having barely processed what had been done to the girl.
Slaa'Khar gripped the back of his slave-girl's head with one hand, and pulled it up, away from a relatively unscarred section of skin on the side of her neck. He forced her onto the floor with the weight of his body as he lay atop her slight frame; sinking his venomous bite into her flesh. Zaan found her scream anything but pleasant, though the sight of her body squirming had an odd appeal. A realisation which disturbed him. Maybe there was only a short path from normal carnal desire to the worship of a sexual Deity, whether one realised it's true daemonic nature or not.
Hypnotised by the spectacle, Zaan barely noticed the first sound from outside, but Slaa'Khar immediately pulled back from the girl, her blood glistening on his fangs. He rushed past Zaan, and grabbed two blades from a rack in the middle of the floor. Near the place he had so recently lain Liasha. Zaan's martial instincts kicked in and he took in the details of each weapon. The first seemed to be suited perfectly suited to a follower of the Pleasure God. It's blade was curved smoothly, while it's hilt was wrapped in Golden threads and inlayed with subtle patterns.
It was the other which drew Zaan's attention however. Unlike it's partner, there was nothing about it which suggested pleasure. Not even the blacksmith's pride in it's completion. It was nothing more than a tool for killing. No, it was more than that. This was a tool designed for slaughter.
Without a second glance at anything else in the tent, Slaa'Khar ran through the door flap, the manic fury back on his face, and murder in his eyes. Zaan followed as far as the entrance, and watched in horror and fascination as the beastmen who'd interrupted him; apparently by choosing that moment to launch an attack on this camp against those loyal to Slaa'Khar, were hit by whirlwind of destruction centred around the Slaaneshi Champion.
As he gazed out on the spectacle created by the clearly insane, but undeniably powerful warrior, a familiar tingling sensation rushed through him, as Liasha's hands wrapped around him.
"He never could stay out of a fight. His indecision will probably be his downfall in time, but here and now… well, I think you can see."
Zaan tore his eyes away from the bloodbath to question her, feeling an unstoppable thrill as his skin rubbed against hers, almost making him lose his concentration. "Indecision?"
"He was even named for two Gods."
Zaan's confusion showed on his face, and she laughed at his ignorance. "His name is in the Dark Tongue. It means 'Ecstasy in Rage' He has dedicated himself equally to Slaanesh, and the brutal Khorne."
What d'you think, anyone see it coming? Any of you who checked it up in the Army Book, or know it by heart... well, you're a tad wierd, but I think I probably would have, so join the club. If you're intersted; apart from Zaan, Liasha, and at least one other, most of the names will probably be made out of the Dark Tongue page in the back of the Horde of Chaos army book, but Slaa'Khar's will be the only one I'll tranlate for you.
Reviews are appreciated.
