The Prisoner of War

[Viktor Delacro]

First Tiamat had failed him. Promised him treaures beyond counting and power beyond his wildest dreams. Promises of anything his cruel heart desired, promises only a goddess could make of a man. Demands, as well, that only the most beautiful of goddesses could make. Such was Tiamat in her earthly form, beautiful. Hair the colors of the serpents she ruled and a body strong and deceptive, for it looked pale and soft. Dark eyes and black lips that whispered glory into Viktor Delacro's ear. "Destroy Avaren," she commanded and he obeyed.

Avaren resisted.

Cast off into beggardom, Viktor traveled poverous for years until he found himself living in the very land that he had attempted to conquer. His citadel was a ruined hulk, a blight on the landscape. Another divine power wished to have this soul to call his own. Hextor, the brute of war and patron of those that have tasted the light and chosen the darkness, called to him. Not whispered promises like the Dragon Whore, but battlecries. The call to war fired his blood, but it was over before it began. The heroes of Avaren tearing him down before war was joined. Hextor, like Viktor's war, faded into oblivion.

So here, on the edge of the kingdom, Viktor waits. Chained to a stone wall in the bottom of a nameless tower. No glory, not even an execution to end his miserable failure of a life. Just chains and darkness.

So this is what Azrael had arranged for him? Rotting in a cell? What greater plans were there, if not death?

[Azzy]

Unacceptable. Two watchtowers had fallen within the past twelve hours to raiding parties, all while Azrael had been sleeping. They attacked swiftly and efficiently, very different from the previous raids he had experienced. Yet, there was still no true sign of overall leadership or coordination among the attackers, thus there was no nation or empire to campaign against in retaliation.

The current realization was that, with the numbers they presently had, and incursion could be halted before it got anywhere close to the city of Avaren. Yet, Azrael was highly displeased with the recent rising casualty rate resulting from stretching the armed forces he commanded so thinly along such a broad border. Furthermore, without tangible signs of conflict effecting the daily lives of the people of Avaren, requests for raising a larger army and sending more troops were largely ignored.

As such, Azrael had instituted a new policy. Though almost to a man the raiders would fight viciously to the death, they were not the only ones the Vigil dealt with. Bandits, thieves and other miscreants were often captured trying to sneak into or out of the kingdom, attempting to skirt the law. Thus did Azrael fill his dungeons with the dregs of society. Yet, in time of need, they were given an option: sit in their cell and rot or enlist and live a rough life of military service. Not surprisingly, many chose the option of dying in the field over dying in a dirty hole.

Yet, there was one prisoner who was different from the common criminals. Why this was, Azrael did not know, as the records were rather poorly kept concerning this individual. As Azrael had spent most f his life in Aesir, he knew few details of any troubles he caused. Thus, here Azrael was, standing outside the cell of Viktor Delacro, somewhat uncertain precisely how to deal with his situation.

"You." He said sharply, "What are your crimes?"

[Viktor Delacro]

"Only one crime, Azrael. Failure. Failure to destroy this wretched city on my first victory. Perhaps underestimation is my crime, for the troops and heroes of Avaren actually bested my army. Or faith is my true crime, as the malignant tumors that call themselves gods and goddesses keep to their word as well as a common footpad."

Viktor stayed slumped in his chains, he could not tell if the Azrael he saw was real or simply a figment of his delirium. Ultimately, it did not matter and ranting his grievances felt good. Very good. He continued to rave to himself.

[Orca]

An orange-and-white head poked itself out from behind Azrael's leg, watching the prisoner with wide green eyes. Purring, the little cat entwined itself briefly about the man's legs, then went over to the bars to look inside. He didn't think this man posed much of a threat, not chained up like this, but one never knew. He was here as back-up, just in case.

He might not look like much, not in this form, but he could easily switch to a bigger, stronger one if needs be. A kitty cat could land scratches, if he was fast, but a full-sized mountain wolf could tear out a man's throat in the blink of an eye -- he'd seen it happen. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that.

He wasn't sure what the man spoke of -- the shapeshifter could understand the words, but even so, they made little sense to him. Faith? Tumors? He shook his tiny head, sending a questioning look up at his boss. Wasn't really his business anyway. He just followed Azrael around everywhere -- it was was his job, after all. More or less.

The cat meowed once, tail whisking from side to side, then sat back on his haunches to wait.

[Azzy]

"Right..." He said, in the tone of one who didn't actually care too much about the answer. So, in summary, he clearly wasn't the regular bum who ran around harassing caravans. He was evidently so much more.

"So, what do you think about him?" He said, looking down to where Orca sat, having followed him around. Azrael wanted to think he was different than the other, which could always pose the potential trouble of clouding his judgment. He doubted this, but it couldn't hurt to hear the boy's opinion.

"Though I guess what you did or tried to do is ultimately irrelevant. The only truly relevant question is: what would you do if I set you free right now? For you are lucky enough to be our guest during a period of open recruitment within the army. Provided you won't cause more damage than good in the circumstance of your release, today might be your lucky day."

[Viktor Delacro]

Viktor kept his eyes on the ground. Thoughts of freedom only brought awareness to the soreness of his wrists.

"What would I do? Probably rot all the same, my citadel is a ruined. The gods themselves have thrown me away. Die, maybe. Maybe that's what I'll do."

[Azzy]

Azrael wanted Avaren to prosper. He wanted what was best for Avaren, for her to be safe and secure, her citizens well guarded and given the greatest chance to thrive that was possible. On the other hand, he was also realistic in his endeavors. The people could be too carefree, things could be too peaceful. If they grew too content and complacent, then they would be destroyed that much more swiftly when the time came for war.

With a gesture, he waved away the few guards nearby, though ignoring Orca. Orca was dedicated to Azrael, not Avaren, and would likely side with his plans. If Azrael wanted more troops to secure the borders, he would have to create fear within the hearts of the citizens of Avaren. Only then would he have their full support.

"What if I were to give you supplies and some backing? What if I allowed you the freedom to rebuild your strength to once again make war with the people of Avaren?"

[Viktor Delacro]

Viktor glared up at Azrael. He couldn't possibly be real.

"So... you want to use my tendency for failure to train your men? I'm actually without words. Fine, let me free. Show me the reality of freedom."

[Azzy]

"No, you misunderstand. I don't want you near my men, hell, I don't even want my men to know you exist. I want you to have enough supplies to go off on your own, to give you another shot at bringing hardship to Avaren. If you do manage to build up your strength enough to lash out at Avaren, the people will give me whatever power I ask for to deal with the threat."

"In other words, I am releasing you so that I can win. Either you try once more for your mad schemes to destroy Avaren, or you die alone in the woods during the attempt. I will either gain more power or lose a potential threat." Azrael was completely confident that, seeing as he had been brought down before, it shouldn't be too hard to bring him down again.

"Either way, I win. You, on the other hand, get the choice between dying in this hole or dying in a place of your choosing. I trust you will not reject this option." With that being said, Azrael opened the door to his cell. "Orca, unchain him."

[Orca]

The cat's head tilted upwards as Azrael spoke to him, though he didn't respond right away. What did he think? Hey, he hardly knew the guy. Why ask him? He was happy, though, that Az thought enough of him to ask his opinion. Before he could manage to shift forms and respond, however, the two were speaking again.

While he couldn't completely wrap his head around the concept Az was basing all this on, it still made sense to him. Honestly, he'd trust anything Azrael did or said, whether it seemed sane or not. His triangular ears swiveled back and forth as his boss outlined his plans and the prisoner accepted. Good, right? Then the door was opened and he was commanded to release the prisoner.

What. Him? Well, whatever.

The cat was quite suddenly a shaggy-haired, plainly-clothed boy, who snagged the keyring from Azrael's belt and trotted forward. He paused only briefly, to glance somewhat anxiously Az's way and mutter, in a late response to the man's earlier question, "Dunno, sir. I trust you, though." A lame answer, but he couldn't do much better. Quickly, before the temporary courage lingering from his shapeshifting could desert him, he padded all the way into the cell and unlocked the man's chains, then backed away, eying the ex-prisoner warily. His move, now.

[Viktor Delacro]

Viktor stood for the first time in the aeon he'd been chained to that wall. His wrists still bled from the manacles, curiously they did not hurt. Azrael stood in the open cell door, still in the way of true freedom. He felt fury leak back into his limbs and he was not afraid. It supplanted hunger and thirst, feeding him strength as well as any meal.

"Then I shall require arms, armament and provisions."

[Azzy]

"And so they shall be provided. I shall have the armory notified that you shall be arriving. Few records were kept of you, so few new recruits should recognize you. As no others were witness to our conversation, they will likely think you just another bandit that has been drafted. I trust you will do nothing to get yourself dragged right back down here."

Gesturing out of the cell and toward the staircase, Azrael continued speaking. "Now, if you do accomplish your mission of rousing the people in my favor, I will be willing to have you 'captured' and escorted beyond the borders of Avaren, where you can go cause problems for another nation. If at that time you are uncooperative, I will have you killed."

[Orca]

Since nothing had been said that concerned Orca, he just kinda stood around and tried to look helpful.

[Viktor Delacro]

If anything like brotherhood passed between these mortal enemies in their twinned lust for power, it passed quickly with no trace. Similar enough they were, but power-lust is a brotherless life. Viktor walked, with purpose, from his cell. Identity returned to him with each footfall.

"I find your terms acceptable. After selecting what I need," he looked at Azrael. He was smiling.

"I'll be back."

[Azzy]

Azrael stepped aside to allow him to pass. "Good. I shall be expecting you."

Turning to Orca, he addressed the boy once again. "I don't honestly care if you trust me or not. Give me your input, I want to hear your honest opinion. You are allowed to disagree with me. Doing so is not likely to change the course of events, but I still want to know what you think."