Avernus

CONTENT:

Rating: Mature

Flavor: Action/Adventure/Drama

Language: yes

Violence: yes

Nudity: yes (m, f)

Sex: no

Other: torture/experimentation

Author's Notes:

Okay, I give up any and all pretenses of being a professional writer. I couldn't just sit down and hash this out. But it is done now, whether it is "done" or not, and we can move on. I just can't afford to waste any more time on this opus tryannosaurus rex, if I want to complete it within my own lifetime.

Special thanks to ShebasDawn and Ventisquear for pokes and some brainstorming help. Special thanks to eatenbydragons for what to do with the trapped door schtick.

Synopsis:

Brother Genitivi's trail didn't lead anywhere, except back to the man who lied about it in the first place: Genitivi's 'assistant' in Denerim. Once the elves shook the impostor down for the real information, it was back across the country for our band of heroes, this time taking a slight detour to see what was at Soldier's Peak.

Undead, and a Grey Warden Commander Abomination bent on escaping from the Peak was the answer. Our heroes narrowly escaped through the midden chute...! Then espied a light in the tower.

Avernus

===#===

The companions returned to the lower courtyard, where Levi's brother and Bodhan had set the wagons up in a makeshift camp. Bannon expected to have to fend off an undead sortie while the merchants hastily packed up and retreated. He could understand the undead Wardens not wanting to follow them down the midden chute, but why didn't they just come out the front door?

"Maybe they don't care what we do, as long as we don't disturb their final resting place," Alistair hazarded.

"Perhaps they are trapped inside," Zevran guessed.

"The assassin may be right," Morrigan added, giving the keep a thoughtful look. "Those spectres we saw, echoes of memories... There is energy here, perhaps a mixture of magical and demonic."

"We didn't see any barriers on the way in," Bannon said.

"Perhaps it does not affect the living," Morrigan answered.

"Then we can go back in," Alistair said. The others looked at him. "Well we can't give up now!"

"We're not going back in the front door," Bannon said.

Levi came up and distributed some rags for them to wipe themselves down. "Should we be packing up?" he asked anxiously. "Getting ready to flee?"

"Not to flee, no," Bannon told him.

"But to stay? It's just that the womenfolk are looking to get a bath as soon as possible. And I don't blame them."

Bannon rubbed his face and looked over to where Leliana and Wynne were talking with Mikhael. Now didn't seem like a good time for stopping to have a soak. On the other hand, his companions were not fit company. "Zevran, do you think you can climb that tower?"

"Hm, to be sure. But what will I do up there by myself?"

"You're not afraid, are you?" Alistair taunted.

"Of course not, but unless you want someone assassinated up there..."

Bannon said, "You can take a rope, so the rest of us can follow. How long will it take you?"

Zevran shrugged. "Some time. Depending on how old the stones are, how weak the mortar is."

Bannon pursed his lips. "Morrigan, can you fly the rope up there?"

She folded her arms and wrinkled her nose. Though the latter might not have been solely due to her mood. "You just expect me to fly around at your beck and call? Shall I turn into a messenger pigeon?"

"No," Bannon tried to soothe her. "I was just asking. Besides, you could get clean a lot faster. Just... you know? Preen?"

"Eeuw," said Alistair.

Morrigan glared at him. "If you were a dog, you wouldn't even lick yourself."

"Nope, definitely not."

"Hence no change in your attitude towards bathing."

"If you can't do it...," Bannon started wearily, tired of their bickering.

Zevran said, "It is too heavy for a bird, anyway. Or a crow, at least."

"Raven!"

Bannon was ready to tear his hair out. Couldn't those two stop teasing the witch long enough to get anything done? He smacked Zevran on the arm.

"Hey! What was that for?"

"Get the rope, you volunteered to take it up there."

"Me?"

Morrigan cut in. "I can do it," she said impatiently. "Just not as a bird."

"All right, then," said Bannon, ignoring the assassin's evil glare.

===#===

Bannon told Wynne to stay with the merchants to clean up, while Sten kept guard. He offered to let Leliana stay with them, but she opted to go up to the tower. They followed the others to its base.

"Just hold that out," Morrigan told Alistair, handing him a coil of rope. This wasn't going to end well.

Alistair braced himself while the others stepped back. Morrigan cast out her arms to summon power, then wrapped a yellow-green glow around herself. The magic flared briefly, and a cart-sized spider settled on its multi-jointed legs where the witch had been standing.

Bannon stifled an exclamation and hopped back. Alistair held his ground, but he couldn't keep a worried expression from creeping across his face as the spider opened its hook-fanged maw and slowly enveloped his hand.

Morrigan bit gingerly on the rope coil and slid it from Alistair's grasp. Then she turned and started up the side of the tower.

Bannon edged closer to the Templar as the group watched. "That's seriously creepy," the elf mentioned, his voice low.

"No more than usual," Alistair replied, deadpan.

===#===

There was a walkway connecting the upper storeys of the tower and the keep. Morrigan had no trouble securing the rope around a crenellation, and soon the others joined her at the tower door.

"Should we knock?" Alistair wondered.

"No," said Zevran, "but we should check this door for traps before trying to use it."

"What kind of traps would there be on a door?"

"All kinds, my friend. From the very subtle tiny needles that inject you with fast-acting concentrated poison the moment you grip the knob the wrong way, leaving you frothing from the lips and twitching painfully on the floor, to the quite blatant ones that explode, reducing you to a charred corpse."

Alistair eyed the door and edged away warily. Bannon rolled his eyes. "That would only stop the first guy trying to get through."

Zevran turned to him. "Hmm?"

"Once the door exploded, the next guy could just walk through the smoking hole."

"Oh. A fair point."

Bannon shook his head as the assassin bent to work on the lock. How gullible was Alistair, anyway?

After a minute or two, there came a decisive click from the door mechanisms. Zevran straightened. "And there you have it, my dear Wardens. Disarmed trap, and unlocked door. Am I not ridiculously awesome?" He flashed them a grin.

"Yes," Bannon said, elbowing him aside, "you are indeed not ridiculously awesome."

"Hmph!"

They walked through the door then past a few musty storerooms. "Is it just me," Leliana said, "or is it somehow colder in here?"

Bannon looked towards Morrigan, and noticed Zevran looking in her direction as well. He kicked the assassin before he got his hair incinerated. "I feel it, too."

Alistair said, "I feel something, but... it's not cold. It's the Taint. I think."

At the end of the hall, they pushed through a pair of doors. Bannon drew his weapons, and Alistair had his shield at the ready before they realized they weren't being attacked. There were people in the room, standing immobile. They reeked of the Taint, but were clearly not alive, and yet... neither were they statues.

There was a woman, nude, her skin greyed and leathery. Her eyes were closed, the lids sunken into dried-out sockets. Her hair was colourless and shorn; her mouth was sewn shut. She and a man in similar condition stood stiffly on pallets, their arms straight, held out from their sides.

The Wardens' group spread out near the door, staring. "Now that," Morrigan said, "is truly macabre."

"What are they?" Bannon asked. He slowly sheathed his blades, not taking his eyes off the creatures.

"They're...," Leliana said in awe, one hand to her chest. "They've been stuffed."

"Stuffed?"

"It is taxidermy," the bard explained, still staring. "Like hunting trophies, yes?"

Oh yes, that was definitely macabre.

"What for?" Alistair asked incredulously. A moue of disgust turned his lip.

Morrigan walked closer to examine the male. "Experiments," the witch reported. Bannon came up beside her to see the notes she had found on the exhibit. "This seems to be a diary documenting the advancement of the Taint within this specimen."

Alistair stared at the drooping grey dugs on the other human. "That's... repulsive," he said, swallowing thickly.

Zevran made a face. "As broad as my tastes are, I have to agree."

"I didn't mean... that. I meant... the whole... thing." Alistair shuddered. "Watching the Taint corrupt someone, taking notes, then... displaying them like this." He shook his head. "Who would do something like that?"

Bannon pressed his lips into a thin line and wandered down the aisle as the others spread out, looking at the different 'exhibits.' He stopped at a table displaying a pair of skulls with the tops sawn off. In murky jars behind them floated the brains, the eyeballs still attached by thin stalks. One brain was swollen, diseased, discoloured black and purple. The eyes stared blindly, the irises gone silver. It was the Taint. Even dead as it was, Bannon could still feel the evil stain.

The other brain had mottled dark patches, but seemed more intact. The eyes had large irises, dull green. "He was an elf," Bannon realized. He glanced at the notes on the table. "Pain threshold tolerance," he read. "Maker." He couldn't suppress a shudder.

He backed away, and bumped into Alistair. The two Wardens shared an uneasy glance.

"Who would do something like this," Bannon echoed the Templar's earlier sentiment.

"A mage," Alistair said darkly.

"Someone interested in learning," Morrigan countered. She stalked along a table where a dwarf was laid out, or at least his skeleton and various jars containing all his internal organs.

"Someone evil," Leliana said, clutching herself with her arms. She moved to another stuffed specimen, a young male human tied foursquare to a sort of vertical rack. His head drooped, his lank black hair hanging like a curtain. He did not seem as far gone as the others. She dipped down to get a look at his face.

His head lolled and his eyes snapped open, though they were ink black. "Master?"

Leliana jumped back. "Merciful Maker!"

"Guess he's not as dead as he looks," Bannon quipped nervously.

"Leliana, get away from him," Alistair said. "He's Tainted."

"Master...?" the thing hanging there grated. "Again?" Its blind eyes searched in vain. "Have I not... suffered enough?"

Alistair put a hand on Leliana's arm, drew her closer so he could half shield her from the... whatever it was; it was no longer human.

The bard tore her eyes away. "Zevran," she said shakily.

Bannon looked to the assassin and gave him a nod. Zevran pulled out one of his daggers and walked up to the limp form. He pulled the head back by the hair and jammed the dagger up under the chin, deep into the skull.

The man gave a brief gasp, then black ichor poured out of his mouth. More of the thick substance followed Zevran's blade as he withdrew it. "Ugh," the assassin commented. He looked for something to wipe the dagger.

"He's... bleeding black," Alistair said in disbelief.

Leliana shuddered against his arm. "We have to get to he bottom of this. Whatever this is."

Bannon glanced back at the other remains, hoping... that was the only one still alive. He shuddered again. "This way," he said, collecting himself and heading through the far door. It led to another workroom. This one held long tables, some empty and stained deep rust brown, and some filled with glass bottles, jars, and an assortment of tiny, baroque blades.

The group turned a corner and found another door. A cramped flight of stairs curved up the side of the tower. At the top, they found a large room with a railed balcony along the far wall. The sickening feeling of the Taint was less here, but the chill that permeated the tower was more noticeable. A lamp cast a golden glow on the upper level, reflected by the tall side windows. The panes were grimy with age, and some were cracked.

"I know you are here," a dry voice spoke, making the companions jump. "You must wait a moment."

Bannon glanced at Alistair. The Templar looked even more confused than the elf felt. Bannon turned his gaze towards Zevran, then flicked his eyes towards the wall. The assassin nodded and melted towards the bookshelves, circling stealthily around the room.

Bannon moved forward slowly, looking for the source of the voice. He was distracted by a pair of square pits built into the floor, about four feet wide. In the center of each stood a stout post fitted with a chain. Dirty bits of straw lay in the bottom, but they were otherwise empty. Bannon felt another chill, and it didn't have anything to do with the drafts coming in the broken windows.

He walked along the narrow strip between the pits, then caught sight of movement up on the balcony. A bald human hunched over a desk, carefully selecting different bottles and vials scattered over its surface. Bannon signaled the others to remain quiet.

The man finished scribing something, then straightened and turned. He was a decrepit old man, scarred by age with sunken eyes and hollow cheeks. Thick robes swaddled his frame, and these were so patched and stained that it was impossible to tell their original colour. His hands were large, but also whittled down by time, to sinew and bone and blue veins.

As he straightened his spine, he seemed to gain strength and height. Something flashed in his eyes - greed, cunning, a strong spirit - it was hard to tell. He leaned on the balcony rail and looked the companions over. "Grey Wardens," he mused after a moment. He didn't seem surprised. Bannon cursed inwardly. How did he know?

Leliana stepped to the fore, unwilling to wait for anyone else to handle the situation. "Who are you?" she demanded. "And what evil are you perpetrating here?" And Bannon thought bards were supposed to be diplomatic.

"I am Avernus. And by 'evil,' I presume you man my experiments. They are my life's work."

"Avernus?" Leliana repeated, her brow creased in thought. "The Grey Warden mage? But we saw your ghost."

He waved that off. "Those are not ghosts, but young, unformed spirits, mimicking things they have seen."

"Then the question," Morrigan said, "is how are you still alive, after all this time?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Bannon added.

Alistair said, "Never mind alive, how is it you haven't succumbed to the Taint?"

"Ah." Avernus' lips twitched and his eyes lightened. "At last, someone with the wits to grasp what is truly important."

Bannon and Morrigan both looked at Alistair. This guy had no idea. Alistair shot a glare at Morrigan, then offered a self-deprecating shrug to Bannon. Bannon shrugged back, but Alistair deserved this victory. Without the Taint growing stronger and eventually overwhelming the Grey Wardens... they wouldn't face an early death.

Bannon didn't take his eyes off Avernus as he spoke, but he surreptitiously spread the fingers of his left hand, signaling the assassin to hold back and stay his hand. "So you've cured the Taint?"

"Cure it? Why would I do that?"

"But then how-?" Alistair started.

Avernus moved to the stairway and descended towards them. "For centuries, the Wardens have used the Taint within themselves merely to sense darkspawn. They have never sought to tap its other strengths, it's true power."

"And you have?" Bannon asked.

"I have unlocked a few of the secrets for controlling the Taint." Avernus waved a hand back towards the balcony. "It is all documented in my research notes."

Bannon eyed the stack of parchment where Avernus had been working. And next to that, another stack, thick as a log, bound in heavy, leather-covered board. And two more beside it as well, over a century of knowledge.

Leliana narrowed her eyes at the mage. "What of those people you tortured and killed?"

"Not 'torture.' Experimentation."

"They were living people!"

"They were Tainted," Avernus said, sounding nothing more than bored with the entire debate. "They would have died anyway. Now their deaths have led to more understanding. They were not in vain."

Leliana looked ready to spit fire. Bannon placed a hand on her shoulder.

"What people?" Alistair asked. "Where did they come from? How have you been living here?"

Avernus sighed. "If you must know, they are vagabonds - drifters, thieves, criminals on the run. Every so often, a small band of them finds their way up here, braves the 'haunted' fortress. I take them in, and they do service for me. Trading, gardening, repairs..."

Morrigan said, "Because they are your thralls?"

Alistair frowned. "You are a Blood Mage. At least according to what those 'unformed spirits' saw. You used Blood Magic to summon those demons."

"I am not a Blood Mage," Avernus growled. "The Wardens insisted I learn to summon demons - Sophia herself ordered it."

"You still haven't answered my question," Morrigan pointed out.

"Irrelevant," Avernus snapped. "Now if Weisshaupt wants the benefits of my decades of study, you'll rid the keep of those demons and let me seal the Veil."

"You're trapped here?" Alistair asked.

"The demons are trapped," Avernus corrected. "I am not a fool, I would not allow demons to roam free."

"But you tore the Veil," Bannon said, trying to sound at least as smart as Alistair.

This peeved the ancient wizard even more. "The blame for that lies with Sophia. She ordered more demons. I merely did what as I was told."

Leliana said, "Then you abandoned your comrades when you lost control. You left them to die." The crease between her brows deepened.

"Or worse," Alistair muttered.

"I had to erect the barrier to keep the demons contained," Avernus said stiffly. "Else it would have been 'or worse' for Ferelden. If I leave, the barrier will eventually weaken. But now that you're here at last, you can help me destroy the demons and seal the tear in the Veil. Then we can return to Weisshaupt, where I can finish my studies with the proper equipment and specimens."

Bannon and Alistair looked at each other. Bannon said, "You were expecting us?"

And Alistair added, "We're not from Weisshaupt."

"What?" Avernus frowned. "But you're Grey Wardens. Who sent you?"

"No one sent us," Bannon told him. "We're the Fereldan Grey Wardens. We came here looking for something to help us against the Blight."

"There's a Blight?" The mage's frown turned into a scowl. "Bother!"

Alistair muttered, "I guess he doesn't get out much."

"You are not authorized by the First Warden to sanction my work?" Avernus ran a hand back over his bald skull. "Who is the Fereldan commander?"

Again, the two Wardens shared a look. Alistair widened his eyes in a frightened look and Bannon shrugged. "I am," he said. It was as good a truth as any.

Avernus sighed and turned around, coming face to face with the armed assassin behind him. "And what are you doing?" he snapped.

"Keeping things honest," Zevran replied smoothly. He glanced to Bannon, who motioned for him to put his daggers away.

"I suppose it will have to do," the mage grumbled as the climbed back up the steps, "to continue my work here."

"You could help with the Blight," Alistair said pointedly.

"Nonsense! My work is much more important." He puttered around at his desk.

"What are you doing?" Bannon asked, moving forward to try to see. Damned mage might just incinerate them all.

"Before we face the demons, I must administer this potion to my latest subject." He retrieved a vial and turned back. "The timing is critical."

"He's dead," Leliana told him, her face a mask of cold fury.

"What?"

"We put that poor creature out of his misery."

"You had no right!"

"You had no right to do such a thing to those people!"

Bannon jumped in. "All right, calm down." He looked at Avernus and said contritely, "We didn't know."

Leliana shot him a look that could decapitate. "You are not seriously considering helping this-!"

He grabbed her arm to cut her off. "Can you excuse us a moment?" he said to the mage as he steered the fuming bard away. "Conference," he told his cohorts.

They gathered by the door. Before Leliana could start another diatribe, Bannon snapped, "We need his help to clear out the demons and close the Veil."

She folded her arms. "And then?"

"I'll handle it," Bannon assured her. She took a breath and calmed down considerably.

"We do have our own mage," Morrigan pointed out.

Bannon turned to her. "You're not agreeing with something, are you? The Chantry Sister?" he goaded. Morrigan looked affronted. "Do you want to fight demons at the same time you try to seal the Veil?"

She bit her lip. "'Twould be difficult."

"Well, it doesn't have to be. Alistair?" He looked at the knight.

The other Warden gnawed thoughtfully at his lip. He narrowed his eyes slightly. "I'm following you. I trust you."

"All right, it's settled then."

"You didn't ask my opinion," Zevran said.

"Which is?"

The assassin shrugged. "It doesn't make any difference to me."

"That's why I didn't ask you." Bannon rolled his eyes. "All of you, go down and wait outside the door. I'll bring Avernus."

===#===

Bannon turned back. Avernus met him halfway to the door, the vial in his hands. "Where have your compatriots gone?"

"I sent them on ahead."

"Including your assassin?"

There was no sense denying it. "Yes."

"Am I to understand then, that we have an accord?" He gave Bannon a canny look. "Your troops seem opposed to the idea."

"You leave them to me." Bannon gave the aged human a canny look of his own. Avernus might not be interested in curing the Taint, but controlling it might be even better. "Here's how it's going to work. We have some merchants with us, the Drydens. They-"

"Drydens?" the mage interrupted. "As in, Sophia Dryden?"

"Yes, they're her descendants." Bannon continued over the mage's grumbling. "They just want to set up a trading post here. They'll handle the upkeep of the fortress, including any supplies you'll need. Oh, and they want to know about their great-great grandmother."

"I am not going to make up fanciful tales of glory about that woman," Avernus griped.

"I'm not asking you to," Bannon insisted. "You tell them what they want to know - the truth," he stressed. "You'll leave them alone - no experimenting. No mind control." He gave the mage a hard look. "Don't think I don't know what a blood thrall looks like."

Avernus wrinkled his lips. "Then what am I supposed to use for my experiments?"

"Give it a rest," Bannon said, trying to figure something out. Didn't the man want a vacation after how many years? "If bandits attack the merchants, well..." He shrugged. "There's no sense calling for a magistrate at Highever or Amaranthine to judge them, since the Grey Wardens are being hunted by the crown, anyway. So take care of them as you see fit. But no Blood Magic."

Avernus snorted. "Grey Wardens being hunted during at Blight? What have you been doing since Sophia's rebellion?"

"It's a long story. Do we have a deal?"

"If you can promise me darkspawn blood, or even a live darkspawn to work with. And send another message to Weisshaupt, for sanction of my studies."

"I'll see what we can do."

"Then yes, we have a deal."

"Good. Let's kill this demon so we can get out of here." Bannon started to turn towards the door, but Avernus stopped him.

"There is one other matter."

Bannon narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Which is?"

Avernus lifted the vial, rolled it slightly between his long fingers, so the inky liquid surged within the confines. "I no longer have a Tainted subject to administer this to. But there is a Grey Warden - which is even better. Someone who has already mastered the Taint."

"Me?" Bannon felt his neck prickle. "Why don't you try it?"

"I have been living here quite comfortably on my own regimen of a weaker infusion. But this..."

"It's dangerous?"

"No more so than the Joining."

Bannon eyed the vial. "What would it do?"

"Kill you outright, if you are weak." Avernus tipped his head. "Or it will make you stronger."

Bannon licked his lips.

"Stronger than any man. Impervious to pain, to disease. Quick to heal the most grievous wounds." Avernus held out the vial.

Bannon slowly reached for it.

===#===

(A big demon and undead battle goes here. Very exciting. Ooh.)

===#===

After the Veil was sealed, the others went out of the fortress to see how much hot water the Drydens had for washing up. Avernus, Bannon, and Alistair made one last sweep for 'ghosts' and any stray demons still lurking about. Afterwards, Avernus retired to his tower once again while Bannon and Alistair rejoined their group.

"I have dibs on the next bath," Alistair claimed. "Since I smell worse than you do."

"I can't argue with that." Bannon turned to the Drydens, and explained their place as resident merchants to the Grey Warden stronghold. "Avernus is the Grey Warden in residence. He'll oversee the operations of the Peak. Or, more likely, he'll delegate everything to you, to handle how you see fit."

"Wait, what?" Alistair said from where he was hauling a pot of steaming water.

Leliana rose from the group sitting around the fire and came over. "Am I to understand that you put Avernus in charge?"

"Yes, that's right," Bannon said.

"You said you would handle him!"

"And I have. His research is too important to stop now."

Leliana's eyes flashed like a storm at sea. "You're going to let him continue these atrocities?"

"Of course not!" Bannon took a breath and straightened up until he was nearly as tall as the woman. "He can cure the Taint, Leliana! If the Blight sweeps over Ferelden like in your dream, we are going to sorely need that. Avernus will not harm any more innocents. I've told him to continue his research by more humane means."

If this calmed her ire, it didn't do so by much. She huffed in anger and returned to her seat next to Wynne. The old mage gave Bannon a pinched-mouth look. He got the feeling he was going to hear about this again.

He turned away, and helped Alistair with the pot before he burned himself on it.

"But I thought," the Templar said, "you were just going to do that thing... You know, where you tell them one thing and then turn around and..." A frown crossed his face. "You're seriously going to let him carry on?"

They wrestled the pot over to the tub and dumped the water in. "Do you want to die of the Taint?" Bannon asked him.

"Uhhh... N-No."

"Well, right now, aside from getting killed before it becomes too strong to resist, he's our only hope for not doing that."

"I... suppose."

"He's so close," Bannon mused, staring off into the distance.

Alistair frowned, pausing in the unbuckling of his stained armor. "Did he say something to you? After the rest of us left?"

Bannon brought his gaze back to the earth down at his feet. He nodded. "He offered me that potion he mixed for that... that man."

"As a cure?"

"No... to make the Taint stronger."

Alistair looked at him in horror. "You didn't take it!"

He reached hesitantly for the vial. Strength, power, the ability to survive. Everything a street rat ever wanted. As his fingers closed over the vial, he could feel it, the twist of nausea, the whiff of rot. The Taint.

He could see his fingers turning into long, sickle claws, his skin blackening. He recalled that man's eyes: empty, soulless; the black blood running from his veins.

Bannon jerked back. "No. No, I can't."

Avernus closed his teeth in the ghost of a sneer.

"The Wardens in Ferelden are too few," Bannon explained. "The risk is not worth it.

"No," he told the Templar, his comrade in arms. "No, of course not."

Alistair still watched him a moment, as if looking for... what? Some hint of deception? Then, hesitantly, he said, "It's only that... during the battle with the demons... you seemed different."

Bannon shrugged, not meeting his eyes. "Maybe I just realized what the Taint in me means. Besides having nightmares and eating like a pig."

"You mean like healing faster?"

"Yeah. Why worry about getting wounded in battle when it will just heal in a few days?"

Alistair still looked concerned. "Well, you could still worry about losing a limb or something. The Taint won't grow back an arm or, say, your head."

Bannon grinned wryly. "Yes... I guess that's true, too." He shook off his dark mood. "Come on and finish your bath, I want a crack at one before dawn." He gathered up the pot and made his way to the well to refill it.

He stared down into the dark depths. It was one thing to be cautious, but he couldn't let his life be ruled by fear. That's how the shems controlled elves. It was time for Bannon to take control of his own life.

As for death... there were worse things.

===X===

End Notes:

"Have I not... suffered enough?"

- "No inner peace; no afterlife?"

5000 Bloodsong points if you recognize the Iced Earth reference.

"The blame for that lies with Sophia. She ordered more demons. I merely did what as I was told."

-"I just heard you offer the apology for all the monsters of our time."

1000 Bloodsong points if you know the Anthrax reference.