Innocence Lost

-Dalen Capital, Slave Pens, Night, 2 DSTR-

Kline scrambled to his feet, sword in hand and looking around for his attacker. “What… where…” He looked at Gularzob. “Careful, it might still be here….” He warned.

The little fey on the ground was crying out in pain, little wails that sounded like a mix between a child and a rabbit. They echoed in the halls. The thing was about a foot tall, and on the ground, it had a hand over one eye, flopping around on the ground as if it did not know how to stand without the aid of it’s wings, the legs could not help it get up as it tried and failed.

When it was explained that the eye was the solution to getting through the illusions Kline did not hesitate. The little thing was picked up and the eye stolen and eaten. It popped in his mouth and had a strange flavor and texture, like a salty jelly.

The blind fey was forgotten as he looked around, the mage-lights changed color to a dark purple and the walls all changed from the repeating pattern to one with markings. Arrows and markings indicating dangers were now seen. “This should help a lot; you friend was right.” It was a horrid solution, but it was a solution.

He started to follow the markings and directions, the traps and follies clearly mapped out now they could see past the wards. Looking around now he could see the place was simply laid out, no maze, no complexity, he could even look through the pens and see to the other side of the building. What he could not see was Kalena and Lafayette. “Do you see the others?” He asked Gularzob as they reached the base of some stairs, leading up to the second floor.

There was not time to go looking for the other two. He wanted to, and was torn, but the hounds had to be found and so did Van. The task at hand warranted his focus, but Kalena still nagged and tugged at his mind.

They climbed the stairs, he was ready for another fight. He was wounded, his chest had the claw marks and the front of his short had grown sticky and hard with the drying blood, his arm was dripping blood from a wound there, the wounds were deep, the pain had become a dull roar now rather then the stabbing fire they were earlier. He could fight, it would not be his best, and he still figured he had another half hour before he passed out from blood loss. He could still fight.

At the top of the stairs was the pens for the less then human creatures, made to fit odd sizes. Tall and wide, but in the center was the hounds. The were circled around something dead, feasting. It looked like a white horse at first as he approached the thing in the circle of ash and candles. As he got closer he noticed the tragedy of it, the horse was crowned with a one meter long pearlescent conical twisted horn. The hounds were tearing at the dead flesh and feasting on the creature of purity.

“Get the leashes, we should get them out of here.” He said, “This… we did not see this.”