The Aftermath of Consequences
Drayden winced as he sank down to his mattress, his back a torn up mess from Owyn's lashes. Despite only giving twenty, Owyn seemed more than eager to relish every stroke he landed across Drayden's exposed flesh. Each and every one stung profusely, the pain only increasing the longer Owyn delayed completing each lash. And to top off Owny's "dessert", so he said, salt was applied to Drayden's wounds. Drayden couldn't remember the last time he had cried out so loud in pain. Owyn's eyes flashed maliciously as he personally tossed on handfuls.
Drayden knew that salt actually healed wounds the quickest – besides spells – drying out any blood trying to escape, and cleansing the wound of disease. He didn't even want to try and reach around to cast any spells to seal over the wounds. He was just too sore, and perhaps a little lazy as of right now. But Drayden frowned, remembering the thought of Owyn enjoying his punishment.
Perhaps this was some wicked retribution cast on him for the things he done, he thought. He dismissed the idea. No, this was simply a punishment for the here and now, not for the past. Though, he was sure Owyn might have thought it was justice for his choice of becoming an assassin.
Drayden sighed, easing down all the way onto his stomach, breathing in sharply as his wounds pulsated in protest to any movement. He knew he would never have lasted the full one-hundred lashes. Surely, Owyn couldn't have meant it. That would have been a cruel and unusual punishment, though he couldn't be sure such laws would prohibit the act.
Again, his mind raced over the punishment he'd given to individuals – justly or unjustly, they were…
"Wrong," Synderius said, grinning. He held his hands behind his back. Drayden turned his head in their direction, still lying belly-down on his mattress, too sore to move. What were they doing, he thought with a mild headache.
Agronak growled in frustration. "Then your right," he said.
"Wrong again," Synderius giggled, enjoying his game of teasing Agronak.
"Then if it's not in your right or left, you must be cheating," Agronak said, annoyed.
Synderius shrugged with a wide grin. "Well…"
"He's using telekinesis," Drayden said, still lying down.
Synderius looked over to Drayden with a frown.
"Aha!" exclaimed Agronak. "You were cheating."
"Technically," admitted Synderius. "But remember the whole "Hey Synderius, let's start thinking outside of the box" thing?" he said, creating a decent impression of Agronak's voice.
That shut Agronak up. He threw his hands in the air, obviously surrendering to whatever deal they had made.
They turned to Drayden, both with frowns, and walked over to see their friend.
"How you doing, buddy?" asked Synderius. Drayden groaned.
"I can't believe Owyn actually whipped you for that," said Agronak. "I've never known him to be this hostile to any Arena combatant… ever."
Drayden dismally laughed. He knew why Owyn was so hostile to him. Owyn was placed, more or less, as Drayden's babysitter. "Assassin," he said, pointing to himself, but wincing and taking in a sharp breath as he did. "Remember?"
Agronak shrugged. "Maybe." Agronak swung his sword in a tight arch around himself, a mannerism Drayden had noticed Agronak displayed when in thought.
Drayden focused his attention on a weapons rack behind Agronak and Synderius. If he was going to survive any future matches against anything other than an unarmed opponent, he would need a weapon. And, truth be told, he hadn't practiced his swordsmanship in quite some time. With his assignment given by Lucien, he distanced himself from most of the brotherhood, suspicious of all. While he knew he hadn't lost any of the more precious fundamentals of swordplay, he wanted some good practice. The swords and hammers on the rack were in no condition, anyways, to be used as combative weapons. Drayden wondered how long it had been since any of them had last received a decent oiling.
An idea came to mind, although he doubted Boss would ever agree. But he had to try. He also wanted more outside time. Drayden reached around, ignoring his aching muscles and stripped flesh, and cast a restoration spell on his back. Immediately the pain subsided, although he realized how famished he was. Drayden's stomach growled.
Synderius looked at him in surprise, and slapped his forehead. "How about we get you some nourishment?"
"That would be much appreciated," Drayden said, sitting up with a groan. He stretched his muscles and yawned.
"Why did you do it?" Agronak asked.
Drayden looked at the Irc in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"Why did you become an assassin? I am not one for mindless killers, but you seem a decent guy. I just want to know why you decided to become a killer. You know, you don't really strike me as the kind who actually enjoys killing others because someone else commanded you to."
What was he saying? Didn't he do the exact same thing? He felt his face heat, and his neck tingled. "And what would you call what you do?" Drayden snapped. "How do you think you became the Grand Champion? By picking daisies?"
"Those men and women chose to become combatants," Agronak said coolly. "They knew that they stood a chance of dying. They put their life on the line to become something great. And, while I don't entirely agree with the ways of the Arena, I forced myself to become someone great."
Drayden tried to mask his anger, but it evidently came out in his words. "You said you don't even like the fame."
Agronak turned his head so he could look at Drayden. He furrowed his thick, black eyebrows until they met in the middle. He looked at Drayden a long moment. "It is true. I don't care for the fame, but it gained me something precious. Something I would never trade in for the world."
"And what's that?" Drayden barked.
Agronak sighed and looked away. "A name," he said with a smile.
At Agronak's words, Drayden immediately felt his anger recede. While he still felt a little confused – he simply didn't know what Agronak meant by that – he regretted his harshness towards Agronak.
"I'd rather not share why I decided to join the Dark Brotherhood," he said. "But, suffice it to say, it was also to gain me something. Though…"
"You wanted revenge," Agronak said. It was not a question. He could see it in Drayden's eyes. "But now you're not so sure if revenge is quite the way to go."
"I never said that," Drayden retorted, though not angrily. "But…"
"Dinner's up," Synderius shouted before coming in with three large bowls of soup, one in each hand, and one miraculously balanced on his head.
Drayden laughed at the sight and thanked Synderius for the soup. As he took a bite he looked at Synderius in amazement. "What kind of soup is this?" Drayden asked. "It's the best I've ever had."
"I'm not all brawn, you know," Synderius said, chuckling and flexing his incredible muscles.
"You made this?" Drayden was even more surprised. "T-thank you."
Synderius and Agronak exchanged a look. Agronak turned and asked, "You know, assassin, we've known you now for a little while and still we have not once learned your name."
Drayden set down his spoon and looked around. "I'm trying to hide it from Adamus. But…" He wasn't sure he could trust them to keep it a secret, though he wasn't so sure why anymore it mattered.
"You can trust us," Syderius said. "We're the best secret-keepers around. Plus, the Bloodworks is completely empty now, besides us three."
Drayden took a deep breath. He was really going to disclose his name now. The Arch Mage was the only other person outside of the brotherhood that knew his name, though he was still unsure how. But he now willingly was about to give up his name.
And it felt good to do so. "My name…" he said pausing, "is Drayden."
Agronak extended a hand. "Well, then, you are officially welcome to the Arena, friend."
Drayden shook the Orc's large hand, and winced.
"Sorry," Agronak said, "It's the…"
"Whole strength thing," Drayden said, completing Agronak's saying. "Don't worry about it."
