Draigkyn Manor,

Dungeon - Subterranean Hidden Chamber

A fine black boot with silver fittings steps on a groaning figure curled up on itself. The boot pushes against the back insistently. A hoarse whisper sounds, "Get up, Roderik."

Getting no reaction, the owner of the boots drops a vial with a red liquid in front of Roderik's face, "Drink"

Struggling to move, Roderik managed to chew open the seal and gulp down the contents of the vial. He felt it work almost immediately healing the damage he had suffered. He felt his broken ribs snap into place, his torn tendons and muscles reknit themselves; last to return was his hearing. And all he could hear were his screams, the pain suffered in the healing of such damage in a short amount of time was immense. It continued for a full minute, Roderik was reduced to tears and snot by the end of it. His injuries were healed but the mental trauma would scar him forever. But he had no choice in the matter for he knew who had given it to him in the first place. And Roderik had learnt early that one does not refuse Lord Silas, not without consequences.

The pressure on his back returned, but this time he was able to make out the words, "Get up, I need the Fangs to pursue Beorn. The Orb must be retrieved, without it, our lives are forfeit."

This alarmed Roderik, Silas sounded scared. It terrified him to think something was able to frighten a Beth ranked Blood-Mage.

Roderik shot up and said while bowing, not daring to look the Bloody Mage in the eye, "Thank you for saving my worthless life once again Lord Silas."

"Enough," Silas' voice was like gravel, "You still have uses that is why I gave you the potion. Go wake up the surviving Fangs.," He tossed a pouch to Roderik.

"Yes, my Lord," Roderik looked up to catch the pouch and immediately wished he hadn't. The sight of Silas was straight out of a nightmare. The right side of his face was burnt with the barest layer of flesh surrounding an empty eye socket. His other eye seemed to have survived but the eyelids were seared shut. The whole left side of his body seemed like it had had the skin peeled from it. it was a wonder he was still able to speak through his jaw.

His right arm and chest had borne the brunt of the blast. It was shredded, exposing the muscles which looked like grisly, burnt meat. The damage continued towards the centre of his chest. It took all of Roderik's willpower not to empty the contents of his stomach onto the floor.

Silas sat down cross-legged and downed a potion himself, as Roderik went around waking up the Fangs who had managed to survive. When the cacophony of screams had ended, only fifteen of the twenty that had accompanied him had survived. All of them were standing around Roderik with a hollow look from the trauma of consuming the potion. It pained Roderik to see their numbers reduced. The Northern Fangs were his life's work and he was watching it get destroyed before his eyes. He cursed Beorn and Silas. He wished he'd never accepted Silas' offer. Treasure was good but you couldn't spend it if you were dead. The last to get up was the giant, Grom, his second in command.

Seeing the Fangs gather around him, Roderik spoke, "Lord Silas has ordered us to track and hunt down Beorn. Grom go get the…"

"No," growled Grom, "We're done taking orders. Aren't we lads?," Roderik saw some of the group agree with him. Grom spread his arms, "Look at all the treasure lying around you, I say we gather as much as we can and then come back for more and empty this place out. Let the snake get his own hands dirty for once.," more of the Fangs were getting convinced. This worried Roderik, he knew what Silas was capable of. Trying to dissuade them, "Grom listen to me, Beorn couldn't have gotten far, we just need to…"

Grom shoved Roderik aside, "It is time for a change in leadership." and turned towards Silas.

It seemed like Silas was unable to hear the commotion, "What is taking so long, Roderik? It is a simple instruction. Gather your men and find the Ranger."

Grom picked up his axe and strode towards Silas. He shouted, "There's been a change of leadership in the Fangs. I am leader now and I say you can go and find Beorn, your fucking self. We're done taking orders from you," He continued mockingly, "Lord Silas."

"Oh, is that how it is?"Hissed Silas. "Does he speak for all of you?"

Roderik tried to defuse the situation, "No Lord Silas. Please…"

Enraged at being ignored by Silas, Grom raised his axe and looked back disappointed at Roderik before shouting, "You dog. Why are you still afraid of this cripple?," with a cruel smile he swung downwards, "I've never killed a Blessed before, let's see if you look the same as us on the inside."

Roderik scrambled to stop Grom but froze. Faster than the blink of an eye, Silas had stood up and clutched the Giant's neck in his left hand. Eyes bulging, Grom dropped the axe and grabbed onto Silas' arm but it refused to budge. Silas effortlessly lifted him higher. The sight would almost be comical if it wasn't so terrifying.

Silas plunged his injured arm into the giant's chest and spoke in a low whisper, "A good dog does not bite the hand that feeds it. I do not need bad dogs."

Silas clenched his fist around Grom's heart. A terrible scream arose from the giant. A crimson light shone from Silas' upper armband as tendrils of blood wrapped around his injuries. Grom continued to scream his throat raw yet he was unable to find reprieve in death, Silas made sure of that. The other Fangs are shocked into stillness watching the macabre scene. They were transfixed as the once muscular body shrunk visibly. A couple of the Fangs were unable to bear the horrifying display and vomited. One of them even pissed himself. Grom remained screaming until the very end when the last drop of his blood had been drained leaving a shrunken husk. As one they lowered their gaze unable to look the monster in his eyes. Roderik felt sick to his stomach but managed to hold it in. This was not the time to show weakness.

Silas threw the corpse away, "Ahhh, that felt so much better."

Smiling wickedly, he asked, "Now you are afraid? I shield you ungrateful bastards and this is the thanks I get?"

"Look up," he screamed, "LOOK AT ME!"

All the Fangs slowly raised their gaze. The change was shocking, the blood covering his body had disappeared. His exposed body bore no evidence of the horrendous damage it had suffered. The wiry muscle and pale skin looked unmarred. The only remaining injury was the empty socket of his right eye.

Silas walked closer, "I drain myself to shield you, I give you potions to recover yet this is the thanks I receive?," The Fangs flinched.

Silas was delighted at the expressions, he grinned, "Track Beorn, find him. Don't try and capture him. Even scum like you can manage this much, yes?"

Roderick responded, "Yes, Lord Silas. We can also interrogate the townspeople. They are known to be close to Beorn."

"No! No one must know we are searching for him. Besides, I know his type, he would rather die than put others in harm's way." muttering something under his breath, the upper band around Silas' arm flashed. "He is heading northwest."

Silas handed a marble over to Roderik, "Break this when you locate him, Now leave me." He sat down cross-legged once more, "I will catch up to you once I finish recovering" Ribbons of crimson light intertwined across his body.

Roderick gave one last look at the body of Grom. Turning to face the rest of the Fangs he spoke, "You heard Lord Silas." He pointed at two of them, "Get the gyrfalcons and the horses". Pointing to a particularly short and skinny man, Roderik wrinkled his nose at the puddle surrounding him, "Leif, bring your hounds, it is time to start hunting."