(PG-13 for language and mention of blood. There might be a few mistakes because although I've edited it twice, it is easy for me to miss something, especially in grammer)
Reaver
Chapter One
Conversation Wastes Time
The conversation wore on within the dark chamber. Time wasn't an issue but if it was anyone's guess, the arguments and planning must have been going on for roughly two days now. Not once did someone stop to sleep; everything just kept on going. But sleep to them was like land to fish: not necessary. They didn't have to eat, drink, and pause for rest or even breathe for a certain amount of time. Such things have been labeled 'unnecessary' by their standards. As for us, we hung back in the shadows of each corner. The room was set up like a hexagon, a single guard standing in each corner. Every one of them was different, but at first glance they all seemed alike as they stood in the shadows robed in jet black. Each guard came with its own Lord, its own
Master as we have come to word it. I was one of the guards, slaves or even puppets depending on their word of choice; the conversation-taking place in the middle of the room was none of my business so I concentrated on the other figures. A normal being would have great difficulty looking at the other robed men in the dim candlelight and windowless room but we weren't normal.
A few of them shifted around nervously and I made eye contact with one of them. And as soon as that happened, their head whipped downwards to face the floor and my senses caught the faintest whiff of fear and nervousness. I tried hard to suppress a grin of satisfaction.
I held a high rank among the servants, but compared to those things that we served, we were nothing. The blades of which they wielded gripped a higher sense of rank compared to us. I was forbidden to kill without permission, I was forbidden to speak without permission, I was forbidden to grin, smile, laugh, cry or anything similar to that. Emotions would only get in the way and weren't required of them. We have been told what would happen to us if we were to go against and break one of these rules. But I, on the other hand, have seen what could happen. I don't like going into detail, takes to long. So let me simplify in a manner the simplest of beings could understand: it took exactly three hours to find every piece that was left of him after his insides erupted and caused him to scatter like confetti.
Vearakai.
That is what they're called, that is half of what we are. I glanced over at the group of Masters to make sure that they weren't finished with there long conversation. I did not want to get caught looking around at the other guards, not a good thing to be doing. Considering the brutal punishment that would come, and many have been killed or killed themselves during the punishments. I think I've experienced at least three. And let me tell you, they get worse and worse as time goes on. The reason is that to them, we should of known better as experience teaches us these valuable little lessons. My arms are practically wrapped in scars.
Although the experimentations can alter the appearance of oneself, I believe that I retained the same appearance with little change. But I have neither image nor recollection of what I looked like before I became a "Half-Breed". My hair is short, just barely hanging above my shoulders. It is of a dark sand color, brownish "blonde" if I'm using the correct human term. The tips of my banes were dark brown, nearly black and usually went unnoticed. The only marking on my face was a black needle going from my bottom right eye to just above the jaw line. Now, back to the Vearakai.
Vearakai look human with just a few out-of-the-ordinary features. Each one had a single ice blue eye while the other was a made of a pitch-black iris. The really powerful ones had a single violet eye and the other black. They were all decked out in black robes that swept and twirled around their ankles, although a few glided in shredded tatters at the end.
Their symbol was of a single eye that varied color. It was made of two lines; one started from the top left corner, sloped down and came back up on the other side. The other line started from the bottom left, made an arch at the top and came back down on the other side. Inside the huge gab between the two lines was a circle with a dash coming out of it. Each Master wore the symbol on the hood of their capes but it varied between colors. The Master whom I served was of red lines with a blue center. I?ve seen other colors: neon blue, neon orange, pure white, blood red and more. The only rule to the color was that it must be light enough to see against the black fabric and not already taken. But I was told that the overall High Master wore a multi-colored eye on his robes. Of course only a few of the highest-ranking Masters have ever met him.
There have been rare occurrences when the Eye of the Vearakai showed up on their foreheads, made entirely out of power. This only happened with the highly powerful and deadly Vearakai, and it almost never happens with a Half-Breed.
That brings us why you should not mess with any Vearakai: mind powers. The Vearakai specialized in the powers of the mind to such a level that it is completely absurd. Like, oh say you could grab someones heart mentally and squeeze it so that it explodes from the inside out. That is why it took three days to find every single piece of that one guy when he burst outward. Moving on, because the mind powers cannot always be used, physical strength comes into play. A Vearakai can be deadly strong, I've seen many creatures get punched right in the forehead and their skulls get bashed in. No they are not so strong that they could punch a towering building and it suddenly crumbles into dust, no such power is in existence. At least I hope not, I shudder at the thought of a Vearakai having that sort of ability.
But why are we serving them if they are so strong? Before, we were merely experiments for their own amusement. We were captured randomly and tested on, lab rats to them. I can scarcely remember the torture from back then, the loss of blood and confusion had drained my memory drastically. They drain a good deal of blood from you and replace it with their own from fallen or sacrificed comrades. Many died during this, as they were expected to. But the few that did survive drew a lot of attention. Picked out as if we were dogs in a pound by the Masters.
Of course, we couldn't tell with the thick blindfold that was over our eyes. The reason was because of a chemical that was injected into us, it went straight up to our eyes and burned them severely. When the blindfolds were removed, I'm guessing about a week or two after a Master chose one of us; our eyes had changed colors. Depending on the color of the eye that's how powerful that being could become. I mentioned earlier that the really powerful full-breed Vearakai had a single purple iris. Both of my eyes were a hard shade of violet.
We were now half-Vearakai, gifted with the same powers as them but not to their full extent. But even though we had these powers some things took a lot of getting used to. Like eating, we no longer needed to eat except a small meal every two weeks, in other words every single one of us was pretty much skin and bones. I glanced down at one of my hands, although hidden beneath by the black leather glove I knew that it looked more like a skeletal hand then anything else; the skin pale in contract to the dark clothing. We weren't albino if that's what you're thinking; it's just that everything below the elbow was chalk white, or close to it with a few black veins here and there. Anything above was a semi-normal tone, whatever normal might be.
And as for water, damn was I thirsty. We still need water but not a lot, we could go for a week without it, no problem. But I haven't had anything to drink for at least three weeks and my throat felt like sand.
There was suddenly a sharp crack and every guard looked up, the discussion had ended and each of our Masters approached us. Master Jean, whom I served, looked like he was using a great deal of concentration to keep himself from destroying everything in sight. He made a motion with his hand as he passed me and I followed expectedly. He was taller then me by at least a good three to four inches; even though I stood at least 5'8". We headed out of a door that suddenly appeared and continued down a damp hallway to Jean's part of the kingdom.
Everything was underground and each Master had their own large set of underground chambers. Because Jean was a very high-ranking Master, his was one of the largest. Water dripped from the ceiling as we descended down a large staircase. Luckily as chilly as it was, no ice formed on the ground or walls. A very good reason as to why we wore thick loose pants, thick long-sleeved shirts, leather boots, leather gloves and a robe over everything. For once we were glad that we were half-Vearakai; the clothing alone was at least a hundred pounds. If you add the belts, buckles and weapons your looking around two hundred pounds or more.
"Those fools couldn't solve their own problems so they had to ask us. Ask us to do it for them, three whole blasted bloody days standing there while we repeat the same things over and over again." Jean said loudly, his voice blunt. He glanced back to look at me out of the corner of his eye. "Tell me Reaver, what did you think of the other guards though? I?ll permit you to use names."
"Most of them were pathetic; corpses could serve better purposes then them. In my opinion Lord Jean, only Lushkraar, Makinor's guard; could have slain something in under a minute. Although things aren't what they always appear to be, so it is not my place to say which of the few would make a formidable slayer." I kept my head slightly bowed and voice lower then Jean's. I could feel him smirk.
I had been sent out on dangerous missions in the past to retrieve either information or forbidden items that they sought so dearly but failed to get. I would return with exactly what Jean wanted in less then a day, something that would have been suicidal for anyone else besides Jean and the other high and mighty Masters.
"I received the same impression, although Makinor was getting on my nerves for he wanted to challenge Lushkraar against you in a fight to the death. I found that pointless." He paused before continuing. "And good job, you did not address Makinor as Lord or Master like you have in the past." He chuckled in a way that made my nerves shake. Because I was not working for anyone else besides Jean, I was not allowed to address anyone else as Lord. That was Jean's main rule, and I recently discovered that he was the only one who used it. I also had the high privilege of just saying 'Lord Jean' rather then having to say 'My Lord and Master.'
"Reaver, I have a job for you in a few hours. You are not to tell anyone about it. You are not to say where you're going, what you're doing and why you have to do it. That information does not need to escape these walls, understood?" He said sharply.
"Of course Lord Jean, nothing more and nothing less." I responded and he nodded in satisfaction. When we reached the end of the staircase we were met by a four-way passage. Jean went down the far right passage and I turned to the second left hallway, knowing that the portal to the surface was at the far end. When my time to depart would come, Jean would mentally tell me what I needed to do. It was only a matter of time now.
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