Zacharias awoke to an all-encompassing sense of pain. His limbs felt as though they were burning, his toes and fingers felt numb. But it was his chest that ached the most. There was an emptiness inside that tore at him, seeming to pull his very life force from his flesh as it tried to fuel itself.

Thankfully, the gut-wrenching pain only lasted a few minutes before sweet unconsciousness reclaimed him.

When he next awoke, the pain in his limbs had thankfully receded, but his chest still felt barren. Or rather, he weakly thought to himself, it was his Core that was running on empty.

He hadn’t felt so drained in…ever. The most that he’d ever drained his Core was the time his father had come home after one-too-many down at the pub and had been in a shitty mood after losing at some stupid card game. Zach had almost drained his Core trying to enhance his own body to at least stand a chance against the drunken rage. Of course, it had backfired. It had just made the mean old bastard try harder, beating him down in both body and spirit.

But this…this was a hundred times worse in comparison. Even back then he’d managed to keep a little slither of his Mana inside but now it felt truly empty, a hungering cavernous hole inside of him threatening to spill out.

Worse was the sensation of being carried, tossed over some creature’s rock hard shoulder, something sharp digging into his stomach. He tried to rouse himself but with even the smallest movement he managed, jerking his injured body with every step, he felt his mind stumbling back towards unconsciousness.

The Halfling decided to bide his time and let himself be carried. It gave him the opportunity to listen and to recenter himself. It took a while for him to parse his thoughts through the pain, but he eventually started to place what had happened to him.

Sykes had been right in front of him. He, Zach, had decided to make a quip. What better way than to send the Elven prick off than with a laugh?

Still, he hadn’t expected Sykes to have such a devastating spell in his arsenal. That final blast of ice had nearly ripped him to pieces, and from the sharp pain pervading his body, it had left him in quite the state.

Of course, now that he was awake, he had a chance. From the muted, yet still irritating sounds around him, Zach could tell he was back in the city proper.

A lesser man would no doubt panic at the thought of being captured by a crazed crime lord with a grudge to settle. But he was Zacharias. He had more important shit to think about.

Mainly, why?

Sykes wasn’t one to let a defeated foe off lightly so why keep him alive?

The Dungeon.

The prick didn’t know what had gone on inside. Clearly he was hedging his bets, keeping him alive to question him. Oh, he was heading for the torture chamber alright…

To be honest, Zach would do the same. Magic was a fickle bitch. Who knows how it works sometimes? Sykes had no clue what the Dungeon had given his companions or done to his companions. So the trick would be to figure out a way to keep himself useful to Sykes so that he would be kept alive.

That was, of course, if they even made it back to Sykes’ hideout. If he could escape before then, he’d be home free. At least in the meantime. And Zach only ever really concerned himself with the now. What was the point of worrying about what came after? If only he wasn’t in so much bloody pain. Whatever the hell was carrying him was walking slowly, almost painfully so, but every step still struck his body like a bolt of lightning.

If he was being transported on a wagon then it would be child’s play. His movements wouldn’t be so easily noticed and he’d be able to get away scot-free. Still, he supposed, he could get away with the occasional jerky movement. No doubt it would be chalked up to unconscious twitches.

Wriggling his fingers, he managed to get the sense that his hands were bound. Rope, from the coarseness of it. It was thick and well tied but it was a mistake. The rope wouldn’t hold him for long, obviously. He was Zacharias! Hells, he could probably escape chains given the opportunity. He subtly shuffled his weight from side to side, testing the strength of the knot, and realized that it felt like stone underneath him.

Something made of stone that walked? Ok, so that was obviously the idiot Goblin’s Golem then. But why? Sykes preferred living minions. They were much easier to execute for failure. And if it was the Golem, why was it now working for him? Zach wouldn’t be surprised if the Goblin had been dispatched with pretty quickly. Yeah, it knew some slick magic with that medallion but that was nothing against the Elven mage’s magical might. There was no doubt that Sykes would be good enough to magically manipulate the dumb hunk of rock.

A sudden shift in his weight caused a particularly painful lance of pain to shoot through his body. He’d finally been released. To the ground? No…a chair of some sort. So they were most likely at the hideout, Zach reasoned. He could faintly hear movement behind him, the sound of heavy footsteps passing back and forth three times.

It was probably the Golem depositing the others. There was no screaming, no yells of protest so he had to assume that they were either out of it or too shit-your-pants scared to say anything. Three meant that the Goblin was still alive, or they’d already brought the corpse along. The little freak had probably pissed its pants already. No danger of it speaking up.

There was a low shuffling sound from his left that grabbed his attention. A click of boot heels and the rasp of material as it swished by him. His nostrils were assaulted with the scent of Madajora. Sykes. The Elf couldn’t get enough of smoking the stuff. Zach plastered a smile on his face just in time for the bag covering his head to be ripped off, the sudden brightness momentarily overpowering him.

When the light faded and he could open his eyes, at last, Zach was treated to the sight of Sykes grinning down at him. To the Elf’s left was a tray full of vicious-looking tools. A quick glance around and he could see the room was rather plain, outside of the blood-soaked tiles covering the floor and the drain in the middle of the room. They were in the famous torture room alright.

Obviously, it was Sykes’ intention to interrogate him or perhaps punish him further for the Rodyr thing. He’d heard talk of the Elven Mage’s torture techniques, his particular penchant for bloodletting. Hopefully, Sykes was in a more…forgiving mood.

Smiling with a cheer that he absolutely, certainly, didn’t feel, Zach was quick to speak up as soon as he’d regained his senses.

“Sykes, me old mate! Clearly, there’s been a mistake of sorts. How about we take a second and talk this through eh?”

Grabbing one of the implements on the table, Sykes smiled down at his captor wolfishly.

“I knew you’d be awake for this Zacharias,” He said, holding up the implement, a particularly nasty looking metal stick with a circular serrated blade on the end of it, and admired it for a moment. “You’re a tough one to keep down aren’t you? And therein lies your problem. You always bounce back…never learning the consequences of a bad break…”

Sykes toyed with the tool in his hands as though he was considering whether or not to use it. His face remained neutral as he continued to speak.

“But you and me? We’re going to figure it out together. I think that’s the best way, don’t you? We’re going to find out exactly what kind of man you are Zacharias. But first, we’re going to need to peel back some layers…really get to know each other.”

Infusing the tool with some of his Mana, Sykes watched as the serrated blade started to spin before holding it less than a millimeter away from Zach’s right cheek.

“But don’t you worry. You’ll have your chance to speak. Plenty of chances in fact. We’ve got nothing but time…”