The Forgotten Zodiac

Loyd just glared at him, apparently chewing on something. Then he spat that something out; a mouthful of blood. And his own tongue. If he wasn't talking before, he definitely wouldn't be talking now as he spat out more blood. Belethor, on the other hand, shrieked in a panic and struggled to get away. Werr grabbed him by the back of his collar and pulled him back. It was pretty obvious who would be giving the answers.

Cynyr leaned in close to Loyd's face and whispered "You'll pay for that later. I don't care if you can't talk; I don't need information to torture someone." Then he pulled back and moved over to Belethor, his torture-giddy air gone. "Talk," he snarled, flicking the knife up near Belethor's nose. "Or I start chopping. And I swear if you bite off your tongue, your eyes are going to follow. While you're alive."

"Talk! I'm talking! I don't know what you want me to talk about, but I'm talking!" Belethor wailed, obviously terrified. The sight of blood obviously was a bit unsettling for him. A bit.

"Where are the artifacts?" Werr snapped his question out.

"H-how am I supposed to know? I-I remember a meeting about it, but I don't re-remember who got them..."

"You're going to have to do better than that," Cynyr said, sharpening his knife against his claws. He suddenly raked his claws down the knife, sending sparks flying, then moved forward and touched the tip to Belethor's nose, the started pushing. Belethor's skin broke easily and the knife slowly continued its course, while Cynyr said "There has to be something."

Belethor screeched with pain, but couldn't back up any more thanks to Werr standing behind him. "I-I don't know, I don't know!" He jerked his head away, only starting the flow of blood. "P-please, I...I know where they're located!" He whimpered, then yelped when he was kicked in the side by Loyd. Werr kicked Loyd in the gut, sending him rolling onto his side.

"Speak up. Maybe we'll let you go." Werr frowned.

"Th-there's one in Storaph, right in the Capital city. A-and one in the desert. no idea where. The other two are here in Alastor; one in the Capital city and the other in the underground city of Raften. P-please, that's all I know!"

Cynyr pulled back with a disgruntled growl, saying "You didn't hold out for nearly long enough. But you gave us what we wanted, so I won't hurt you anymore. As for your friend..." He turned a sharp-eyed gaze onto Loyd, already grinning. "You're mine," he said, grabbing him by his hair and pulling up up to eye-level. He glanced darkly over to Belethor, then said "If you breathe a word of this situation to anyone, anywhere...I'll find you. And you'll wish you had kept your mouth closed."

Belethor shook his head quickly, trembling terribly. Werr reached down and untied him, watching as he ran off, holding his nose. He wasn't going towards the town or towards the base. It was obvious that he would be in a lot of trouble for telling. He was wanted dead one way or another at this point.

Loyd looked furious now, but behind his anger, there was a bit of fear. There wasn't much he could do to get out of this. Even the king looked a little uncomfortable as he watched Cynyr.

"What's wrong, friend?" Cynyr said, an evil grin spreading across his face. "Scared? Upset? Maybe a bit angry? That's good." He grabbed him by his collar and dragged him up, slamming him back against a tree. "Me and you, we're not too different. You have a perfect face right now; when I'm done, it'll be in ruins. You'll be like me. I was perfect once, but then someone like me came along and ruined my life." He snorted, curling his lips back into a savage grin. A strange bloodlust had entered his eyes, giving them a terrible, feral gleam.

"Cynyr..." Werr bit his lip, backing up a step. "Cynyr, don't. He's not worth it..." He said quietly, forcing himself to step forward again. He placed a hand on Cynyr's shoulder, his grasp firm as he started to pull Cynyr away from Loyd. "We have to get a move on, now that we know where to go."

Ophile watched from the shadows, ready to move in and help Werr in the case that Cynyr turned on the weak human king.

At Werr's touch, Cynyr blinked sharply, the look leaving his eyes. He shook his head ever so slightly, then carefully let go of Loyd and looked away, not saying anything. His ears were pressed back tightly against his head, his tail still and unmoving between his legs. He glanced down at Werr's hand on his shoulder, then shrugged him off and just headed to a tree nearby, where he sat down and pulled his knees to his chest, watching everything around him with a glare in his eyes.

Werr knew that the panther had really, really wanted to kill Loyd.

Werr frowned, looking at Loyd then over to Cynyr. What to do with him...Ophile moved forward, slipping his head under Werr's hand. "I'll dispose of him, if you wish." He said quietly. Werr nodded a bit, watching as Ophile moved forward. Werr turned away, moving to sit next to Cynyr.

"You okay?" He asked quietly, frowning a bit.

Cynyr was quiet for a moment, then he said "I wanted to kill him. I wanted to do everything those men had done to me. I wanted to make him scream and cry and break until he couldn't break anymore. Until there was nothing left to break." His words were flat and a bit angry. Werr could see that his shoulders were quivering slightly, but not with sorrow or tears. With excitement. "I knew it was wrong and I knew that I shouldn't, but I wanted to feel his neck under my hands," he said. "I wanted to just strangle the life out of him after I had cut him to pieces." He looked away, sighing. "You know they're still out there, right?" he said after a moment. "The organization that hurt me. Still doing their dirty deeds and ruining peoples lives..." He rubbed his shoulder, thinking about the word 'worthless' torn into his skin. He then lowered his head down and rested it on his knees, folding his arms over his legs and just looking small.

"If you want...I can track them down. After all this is over. I can hunt down the people who hurt you. You could...get revenge on your own." Werr said quietly, not sure if he should actually say these things or not. Revenge in itself was wrong. But...Cynyr was important to him. If Cynyr wasn't happy while they were still around, then they would have to be taken care of.

"Done," Ophile said, shaking himself off. "I absorbed a few memories about the interior of the base and a couple other things. These people worship Yemara."

"Oh no..." Werr groaned. "Well...that explains why Diana was taken..."

Speaking of, the young girl was finally stirring. She and Jag had been put in cells across from each other. Hers had an actual bed and food set on a dresser; his had neither. Diana whimpered, looking around. What on earth had happened? One moment she had been going after a butterfly, the next...nothing. Black. "Luen?" She whimpered, looking around.

Jag slowly woke up at her voice. His blinked open his sky-blue eyes and was up in an instant, in a defensive crouch with his wings spread to the sides. He glared around him, then finally laid eyes on Diana. He stood up and trotted forward, putting his hands on his bars and letting out a soft whistle to get her attention. "Diana," he said softly, glancing around. "Are you okay? You aren't hurt, are you?" He sounded truly concerned, and it was obvious that he liked children.

"N-no..." Diana mumbled, still scared out of her wits. Luen wasn't here. Forin wasn't here. In her weak-willed mind, she was alone and that in itself scared her. But Jag was reaching out to her, which made it a little better. A little. "I'm okay..."

"You won't be for very long." A voice came from down the hall. A figure wearing a long, hooded white cloak stepped into their line of sight. "You have been chosen, miss Diana. You will be one of few to have the honor of meeting Yemara, our goddess. The goddess of youth and victory."

"Wha...what does she want?" Diana whimpered.

"Your soul, young one."

Jag's eyes flashed angrily and he shook his bars, saying "You can't do that to her! I won't let you!" He flicked his tail wildly, then backed up and tried to form his trusty bow and arrows. Nothing happened. He glanced down when something around his ankle jangled; there was a magic-blocking cuff fastened tightly to his leg, preventing him from using his powers. He took gryphon form and lunged at the bars, slamming into them with such force that they shook mightly. He reached a paw through and swiped at the person, hissing through his beak.

The man snorted at him. "I can do it. And we will. You yourself will be giving a blood sacrifice before you are allowed to leave, Jagat."

"My...soul...? What does that mean? But..." Diana spluttered, clueless.

"It is rather early in the morning now. This evening, at the strike of dusk, you will be prepared and then taken to the altar of Yemara. It is there that we will cut out your heart and offer your soul to the great goddess. The preparation involves making death your only wish, which is when we shall fufill that wish and send you to Yemara. It's really not all bad...you get to spend an eternity with the goddess herself."

Diana said nothing, shrinking back in her cave. She understood enough. They were going to torture her, then kill her. For what? A sick worship ritual, that's what. Tears ran down Diana's face as she found a comfortable corner of her cell to curl up in while she sobbed. The man smiled, looking over at Jag. "You...perhaps you know of more we can sacrifice. We can rummage through your memory and find who all you know. Young children are best..."

"No!" Jag shouted in horror, spitting a few very foul words out as well. "You can't do that! I'll tear you to pieces if you come near me!" He screeched a terrible note, slamming against the bars again and popping one of the smaller rungs. He took immediate advantage of this and stuck his head through the bars, grabbing the edge of the man's cloak and trying to pull him closer.

"I'm sure you will," The man tore his robe out of Jag's grip, frowning as the fabric itself tore, leaving a piece in Jag's hand. "Hmph. Here, take this, too. Perhaps you can use it to beg for forgiveness. You're not in here for no reason, after all. You were chosen to be here. Perhaps you did something wrong." He took his necklace off and tossed it into Jag's cell. It was a wooden charm necklace, some sort of star shape, with seven points and a single ruby in the center.

Jag growled and fell on the necklace, tearing it to pieces in his beak. He pinned it to the ground with one paw and ripped it to shreds, throwing the pieces everywhere. He hissed at the man again, his sky-blue eyes narrowed and glaring. He moved over to the cell bars and took a prong in his beak, pulling as hard as he could as he tried to pull it loose. It didn't work, of course, but nobody could blame him for trying.