Vayen works quietly on some calculations, alone in his throne room and as unreadable as ever. All told, he's rather bored...absolutely nothing of interest has happened as of late, no resistance that needed to be crushed. At least the telekinetic's provided some entertainment.

"It should not be long," Remica Vega informs the drow who is leading her about. "Thank you." The triton lifts her hand and knocks upon the door to Vayen's chamber.

"Yes, come in. Entertain me."

Vega enter the room quietly, her hood mostly obscuring her face as is common of someone in her position. She gives a slight bow of the head as she enters. 

"Lord Vayen. I need to speak to you about the priestess Rey'deyono," she softly addresses him, "I hope you aren't offended if I get to the point. Why did you not tell me that she has reformed Meir'cillus Yerosyn?"

The sorcerer doesn't bother to set aside his calculations, looking back down to the book after he sees who it is. No one interesting after. "'Reformed'? Ruined a previously perfectly capable drow. I do hope you didn't come halfway around the world without completing your task just to search for girlish gossip."

"My duty is to my order, Vayen, not to you. So my task is not something that you have the right to set, or consider finished or otherwise." Vega doesn't raise her eyes yet, and if there is irritation behind the hood, it certainly does not show in her voice. "If a servant of the Twins, especially one as devout as this Ono woman, is protecting him then she must know something that I do not. And until you tell me why you are going out of your way to eliminate him, I will not move one more step in your service."

"Then I will have you elimated and have Felara kill both of them, giving her express instructions to do so as painfully as possible." The sorcerer shrugs boredly. "That is your decision."

Vega's expression remains irritatingly unchanged, save for a slight tilt at the corner of her lips. "You fear them, don't you." It is a statement more than a question, but for her apparent courage she still readies two of her illusion weapons within her sleeves; a flash bomb, and a smoke bomb.

"Put those away, you nitwit. You seem to think that I've never dealt with any of your trade before." Vayen leans foward on his elbows, still looking extremely bored but with the slightest hint of irritation in his eyes. I have no need to fear them. But I don't take kindly to annoyances. Bear that in mind as you make your own decision in the next five seconds."

"So you aren't going to tell me, then?" Vega does not put away the bombs, however Vayen's blustering might demand. "You seem to think that I have never dealt with a posturing drow sorcerer before, you know. If you think that you can kill me, you really are the fool that Yerosyn and Ono seem to think you are." It's not a complete lie... she could probably escape without a great deal of risk, though enough to be worrisome. Of course, attacking him at this point would be pure folly on her part as well. "I asked you for information, that is all."

"Three seconds."

Vega shrugs her narrow shoulders. "It would have come to this anyway." The bombs roll from her hands, flicked into life at the last possible moment, and, covered by a bright white flash and growing cloud of acrid, choking smoke, she bolts for the door.

Vayen growls irritably, dazzled by the flash but rising slowly to his feet through the smoke. The door crashes shut of its own accord, quite fixed in place.

Vega skids to a halt, not really surprised, but still not quite prepared for the door slamming shut. More smoke rolls from within her sleeves as she ignites more bombs within her cloak, but she doesn't have enough left to keep that up for too long. Thinking as quickly as her sudden fear will allow, she pulls a long pouch with a fuse from inside her cloak, one of only two that she has, and lifts her fingers to flick the fuse into life.

Before they can get that far, a painfully cold block of ice crystallizes from nothing around her hands and forearms, a foot thick on any side.

"Tsk tsk." Vayen isn't hurrying as he walks towards her. "I would have killed you. Now you've irked me. I think I'll break you instead. Maybe you can still be useful."

Vega's eyes squeeze shut for a second. She knows that it's only her sorcerous resistance that keeps from screaming in pain right now. She lifts the blocks of ice, straining against their incredible weight, and lunges for Vayen, swinging for the fences.

The drow sorcerer jumps back quickly. There's just a little advantage in not having thirty pounds of ice attached to your arms. "Tsk tsk. Do you really think you're going to accomplish anything, girl?" In a very similar manner to the first's appearance, a block of ice tries to materialize around her legs and glue her to the floor.

Vega rolls to one side, unsure if that will even help. She's shivering all over, but worse than that, she can feel a familiar burning pain welling up in her chest. The cold must have brought it on... but she has no time for illness. She lifts her arms again and slips out of the cloak, allowing her hands to fall upon it again... if it works right, the ice will smash into the cloak and detonate the incendiary bomb inside... setting off the flashers and smokers, too. If not... well, she tries not to think about that.

One of her legs is caught by the ice, but the maneuver with the smoke and bombs works, sending the sorcerer back a step, coughing. It certainly stressed the just-forming ice on her leg, and it's lined with a few deep cracks. Whether she'll be able to break it is hard to say.

Vega lifts her ams to try and smash the ice on her leg, but it would be moot at this point. She has already begun to cough, and the smoke that normally has no effect upon her only aggravates it. She fihts it, but in the end simply rolls onto her side, eyes glazed, staring at nothing.

Vayen narrows his eyes, thoroughly irked as the smoke clears, and walks over to the hunter with what only looks like nonchalance. One of his hands curls around her throat and tightens. He's not looking to kill her, but a truer state of unconsciousness would be grand.

Vega struggles gamely, even managing to lift her good foot for a competent kick aimed for the male weak spot, but unconsciousness comes so quickly that she is out almost before the kick would connect if successful.

Vayen moves quickly. It doesn't nail him squarely...in the male weak spot...but it's close enough to hurt. He grunts irritably and, once he's positive that the triton is truly unconsciously, the ice melts away. He glares at her a moment. Irksome. Expression fades. But at least it had been mildly interesting.

---

When Vega awakens, it's with a metal ring fastened about her neck. Her clothes are gone, replaced with a rough, truly basic shirt/pants set, as are all of her toys. The area is dark, very deep in the bowels of the fortress. It's strangely open, though...no bars of any sort keeping her from just walking into the dirty stone hall, though there's a line clearly painted on the floor, roping the area off.

There's a...cell mate...dressed in identical clothing save the addition of a steel manacle on one wrist, a hideously scarred creature, a section of skin grafted over where the eyes should be, hardly recognizeable as either gender or any race. The loudest sound is a steady banging as the other boredly slams her manacle hard against the floor stones with a steady rhythm. It drowns out the occasional, distant pained screech.

Vega sets her hand against her chest, aware of only the most distant pain of her illness's attack, and wondering why it is that she's alive. 

She looks around, noticing the line, but the noise gets her attention in a hurry.

"Excuse me," she softly inquires between clangs, "what are you doing?"

"Trying to break something." Slam. Slam. "Whatever breaks first."

"But you will hurt yourself," Vega insists, getting only somewhat groggily to her feet. "Please stop before you do yourself harm."

"Bones heal." Therian turns her face dully to Vega, though not stopping the banging or breaking its rhythm. She's not adverse to company in some form, all told...she's been brooding over Xayu, missing him without admitting it, of all things. Without him to harass her, there's no one here who knows her personally to any great extent, and she's just another face and just another assassin to excercise. When they get around to that. "So. I'm bloody dying to know. Why throw flashers and smoke bombs in Vayen's own chamber instead of acting subordinate, walking out untouched, and then running like hell?"

Vega's eyes soften. "It isn't in me to lie. I doubt he would have let me out anyway. Now, please stop that, let me help you if you insist on breaking out of it."

"The band doesn't come off. I'm not trying to break the band." Slam. Slam. Slam.

Vega closes her eyes. "Fine. Just... I don't know. What are you trying to do?" She is really beside herself. It is one thing to hurt someone for her own purposes, but to watch someone do it to their self is quite another.

As though to answer the question, Therian stops suddenly at feeling a sharp crack. Her hand gropes over the ground for a moment. At the very edge of the floor stone, a thin rock has broken off. Her fingers run over it with careful, meticulous interest, memorizing every ridge.

Vega catches her breath... she'd thought that this idiot woman had managed to break her wrist. "I am sorry. I am going to look around while you... hurt yourself." She heads over to the line, not cross it just yet. A short strip of cloth is torn from her sleeve, which she rolls up and tosses into the hall, waiting for a reaction.

It just flutters to the ground and then lays still. All in all, does everything a well-behaved strip of cloth should do.

"I wouldn't recommend that," Therian observes in her croaking wheeze. She begins scraping the stone on the floor.

"I only wish to know my surroundings. I think I know who you are, assassin. If you are still here, then I'm sure that I cannot simply walk out." Vega sighs softly, and returns to Therian's side. "Is your arm hurt...?"

Therian's mildly surprised at the "know who you are" bit and the "assassin" part fairly confirming it. She shakes her head, then points down the hall. "Torture chambers, storage area for perishable crap. True dead end. " Points the other way. "Training arena and other areas, semi-exclusively for slave assassins. Weapon storage. Outlets to other parts of the fortress if you know where to look." Points forward. "Torture chambers, storage areas, main passage out."

"But you are still here," Vega observes in a soft, soothing tone. "What are you doing?"

"Grinding a rock against the floor in an insanely monotonous task that takes too long and not long enough." 'Looks' up. "The line." She taps the metal collar on her own neck. "These and and the line are connected. You can't cross it."

"Oh," now the priestess understands. She feels rather stupid, now. Of course... why else would Vayen have put a collar on her without a chain? "Forgive me. But let me help you, at least... tell me what to do."

"I'll throw this at you when I get tired. You scrape it then. Otherwise..." she grows quiet very suddenly. Ten seconds later or so, two drow guards--seasoned soldiers, no one inexperienced in this area of the fortress--walk up to the line. "You." One points at Vega, then makes a beckoning motion. "Come."

She looks up at him, face as placid as ever. There is no point in struggling now. "Yes," she softly says, doing as commanded. She has no illusions about what is probably going to happen.

"Turn around," the guard orders when Vega's right on the edge of the line.

Therian says nothing and makes no move to help. No point, would hurt more than it helped. The rock is nowhere to be seen...she's just sitting there, quite bored.

No response from the triton, save for an unfittingly sweet smile directed at the guard, just before she turns. She isn't sure why she smiled, either... possibly just a nervous defense mechanism. Either way, she stands at the edge of the line and turns as told.

If the guard is interested in the smile at all, it doesn't show...her arms are bound quite carefully behind her back, avoiding the fins in a way they'd worked out while she was still unconscious. The other reaches out and turns a key in the collar...it clicks but doesn't come off. That done, the one who had bound her jerks Vega backward roughly and then gives her a shove to start her down the hall. The other glances back to Therian. "Udos orn doer whol dos gajak."

"Alur kyorl dosst vaen ball alur," she observes without turning her head.

Vega starts at the shove, but goes quietly. She wishes now that she spoke Drow, but keeps that thought to herself. Speaking will probably just result in pain, she is sure of it as she heads down that way.

She's handled very carefully...all the guards down here are used to dealing with exceedingly dangerous prisoners. She isn't given any edge by which she could possibly break free of them, not before they're familiar with her skill levels. It's a strange sort of device they approach to strap her into...overhead shackles, adjustable in height though quite fixed once it's set, that keeps the arms spread wide apart, fixed firmly in place with a ring to hold the neck as well. There's a similar piece fixed to the floor for the ankles.

Vega feels no need to fight them. Whatever she is about to face is certainly deserved in some way, probably for her assault of a reformed Drow. She holds herself with all the poise and good bearing a priestess should.

"What sort of contraption is this," she wonders aloud, not to anyone in particular.

They don't break their caution until she's bound neatly into the thing. "This," one soldier ponders aloud as he strokes a blade he pulls from the table... "will be the stuff that makes you wish to retreat to the safety of nightmares."

"Mm... I see. Poor, ignorant Drow... you really have no idea what a nightmare is." Vega retains her placid expression, but the fear is certainly there. Her heart races, despite her best efforts, and her body shivers. She closes her eyes. "I forgive you."

It's a brave statement, really...not one that changes what happens next. A lashing and occasional cuff, amidst a good deal of calculated taunting, one day of a long process of breaking a strong-willed creature, follows for a time...Vayen had ordered something specific done, though. With a few false starts, a serrated edge, and, eventually, a hell of a lot of heat, the dangerous projections on her arms lay on the floor.

One of the soldiers leans in towards her. Smiles. "All done. See you tomorrow."

Vega's armor of impassiveness is gone. She cries openly, her sobs the quiet chitter of those who have learned to keep them silent. Her tears fall unabated for the horrible pain of this, but more importantly for the irreparable damage done. A triton without fins is landlocked... and everything she has ever known as home is now beyond her reach. They may as well have cut off her legs... though she won't supply that idea. 

Her arms are bandaged tightly and well, though the same powder that stops the bleeding and acts as an antiseptic is also laced with hot pepper. And then the shackles are removed, the guards catching her, rebinding her tightly over the injury, dragging and lifting if necessary.

Despite her suffering, Vega tries to move along with their hands... no point in inviting more roughness, and she simply wants to get away from here. Her muscles jerk from the sting of the pepper now and again, though, and her eyes still flow over with agonized tears. "I still for... forgive... you..."

"Oh, don't worry. We'll cure you of that." She's held for just a moment while the key in her collar-esque contraption is turned, and then shoved quite roughly back into the area Therian's sitting still or again. And the guards head off elsewhere.

She lands sprawled on her belly, and though the position is painful, she doesn't move to change it. Just lets the overwhelming horror of losing her fins roll over her, stinging every nerve in her body, wringing out the tears that she had saved for so many years. They spill upon the dungeon floor, and their light drip, drip pattern is just as loud as her wracking sobs, making scarcely a sound at all.

Therian doesn't move to give her false words of comfort or hope. Just scrapes at her rock until a few seconds before guards come for her. Vega is left to her own devices for quite some time...Therian has a few fresh scrapes and bruises, she returns, but nothing of serious note. She sits down again in her previous spot, ears tuned to Vega to see whether she's lucid yet.

By this time the triton's tears have dried, even though the sick emptiness within her heart has already begun to fester. She looks to Therian, wondering about her. "They tried to cripple you too, didn't they." Of course, she's referring to Therian's eyes. There is no sympathy in her words, really, but a sort of mutual respect.

"Failed an assassination. Nothing goes unpunished." She pulls out the rock again. "They're not attacking your body."

Vega nods, looking at her strangely light, heavily bandaged forearms. "I assumed as much. Taking my fins... hurt my heart much more than my body." She sighs, stifling her tears with some little effort. "I am not useless. Let me help you."

Therian finally shrugs, tosses the stone her way. Will be painful as hell. Actually, it's a risk to pass the thing around...she's not really sure why she did, but doesn't care enough to dwell on it. One edge is showing very serious signs of wear. "Hide it if guards come by. Just throw it at my head when you're done." The non-religious of the assassins lays down.

Vega doesn't answer her. She thinks that she has a good grasp of Therian's personality now, and feels that just doing this will be better to earn her tolerance, if not her trust. Wordlessly she begins to tap the stone against the ground. After a few moments, though, her priestliness reminds her to ask something.

"You aren't badly hurt, are you?"

Therian's silent a few moments. It takes about that long to process. Vega's hurt far worse, that's obvious. "Worry about yourself," she states finally.

Vega smiles a little, and taps away at the stone. "I did," she admits to Therian, "while you were out. I might be a fool... I am a fool... but I am no martyr. Please answer my question."

Vega may be figuring Therian out, but Therian's only just caring to even wonder about Vega. Not a lot, but she's definitely behind on everything but what can be expected of a new assassin-to-be's psychology. "No." She means she's not hurt, not picking up on the possible confused meaning.

"Thank you. I would have worried." Tap tap tap. "I think... you should look at this." She tosses the stone, just as Therian had said, aiming more or less for Therian's cheek.

Therian's hand snaps up and catches it, perfectly accurate. She turns it over in her fingers, trying to figure out what Vega's getting at.

The triton supplies that for her. "A crack is forming in the middle. It may splinter if I keep tapping it."

Therian frowns, just a little. Have to change a little. "So don't tap it. Scrape the worn side." Tosses it back.

Vega catches it, and goes to work. Her hand throbs under this unusual excercise, but the worn side slowly, slowly, too damned slowly, begins to come to a point.

The next several days are exceedingly long. Vega isn't given time to sleep...three hours of rest, and then a long torture session, and then back again. Food is sporadic at best...Therian's mildly irked at that since that's not targetted at her.

The triton had been right about the stone...it breaks. But unevenly...about two-thirds of the longish, thin piece of hard stone is still useable. The broken bit is hidden and the human resumes work on the remaining piece unphased, largely ignoring it when Vega's taken and brought back.

Vega hardly speaks at this point. Even her utterances of pain have gone silent, as if her voice had never been. In fact, the only time that she can be counted on to speak is after her torture sessions, when, despite her heart's true desire, she audibly pardons whoever is torturing her for the act itself. It's as if she does it now simply to spite them, instead of actually meaning it, though it is not so.

"How long," she asks of Therian at one point, the ache in her chest making the words exceedingly difficult to form.

The human shrugs, scraping away at the stone. It's looking pretty good, really...it's pretty short now, a small spike just as thin as she dare and yet not quite thin enough. "I dunno. Could break Then I start over." She blows the dust off of the stone. It is getting close.

Vega laughs then, in short, staccato bursts. She isn't sure why. "Start over," she whispers, and fair erupts in cackling laughter. 

"Well." Therian looks up. "Have all the time in the goddamned world." Goes back to scraping. Touches it. That might be... Very, very carefully slips it into one key slot of her collar. Tilts it, breath held just to keep still...it's fairly hard stone, but not enough to make her feel safe from breaking it.

Click. Collar falls open. One corner of Therian's lips twitches upward, a smile of small triumph though it lacks any real joy. Clicks the collar shut again and then...just sets the pick aside, and lays down like always.

Vega didn't notice at all. Just... laughs, but her eyes are full of tears again, and there is no joy in the tilt of her sizable lips. Her hands slam against the ground until bloody knuckle prints are left in their wake. "Drow," she murmurs between choking laughs, "drow, drow...!"

Therian turns her face roughly in the triton's directly. "Yes, bastards, the lot of them. You'll get used to it."

"Drow, drow, drow, DROW," Vega sits up abruptly, violenty even, eyes bugging quite open, her laughter ceasing in a moment. "I... have lost my robe... Therian. I am going to get it." She reaches her feet and begins a slow stumble/walk towards the exit, and that line on the ground.

"Don't do that, Fishy, I'm warning you..." the human cautions in a louder-than-normal hiss. She doesn't get up to stop her, though. The pain will be enough to snap her back to reality, hopefully. Maybe.

"No... I can't listen to you any more. You forgot my name, and... it is on my robe." She steps over the line without a further word.

Therian breathes a wheezing sigh.

The effect is immediate and dramatic...a field of some sort springs to life along with an overwhelming sense of pain that attacks every nerve ending in her body.

Vega doesn't even realize where she is until she's lying on her back, her whole body aching, but her wits at least somewhat restored. "I want to..." she whispers when she can talk, "catch our guards. I want to put collars on them and... nail them to the floor, over that line."

"Yeah..." Therian observes, rising partway to her feet to slide the day's bowl of water over to her cellmate... "they're doing a neat job of making you their next little assassination bitch."

Vega looks at the bowl for a long moment, as if doubting the sincerity of it. She takes a brief sip, cooling the hellfire in her mouth. "What do you mean?" As she asks the question, a sort of rude understanding starts in the back of her brain. "I would never... help them."

Therian shrugs. "Came in here saying you forgave them for everything. Now you want to see them suffer bitterly for it." Leans on her knees, yawns. "That's after a week. One. They're doing a damned good job. You'll be killing anyone they need to without a second's remorse before you know it."

Vega gazes at the ceiling at that, listening to the blood pounding against her eardrums. "If that happens... Therian. I know it is asking much... if I start to become their... their puppet. Kill me. Or make me useless, someway. Please..."

A pause. "Maybe." It's actually promising a lot, for her.

Vega lays back, next to the line. "I won't let them do it to me," she promises. "The next... time they take me... I'm going to escape." She blinks. "Yes."

"Feel free to try." Therian waves a hand dismissively. "Fortress is between waves of troops, but I wouldn't consider it an ideal time to try. You're just going to end up on a rack and in more pain than they've inflicted yet, for longer. For slaves, punishments for attempted escape are worse than punishments for murder."

Vega closes her eyes, sighing softly, and cries. She understands Therian, for certain. Doesn't like her, though.

Therian yawns. Leans against the wall. "Just be patient. I wasn't playing with rocks for bloody nothing, you know."

Vega covers her face, fighting her despair as hard as she can. When her hands come away, the blood from her knuckles coats much of her pallid face. "I will try," says she, "but I can not promise that I will not... break again."

"Yeah, well..." Therian runs several fingers thoughtfully over the scars on their own hand. "You've seen how beautifully sane I am."

Vega doesn't answer. If she's unconscious or asleep, is really anyone's guess.

---

Four days later, guards come for Therian, bind her arms and hobble her legs as usual, and remove her from the cell. All as per routine. Then, though, the norm breaks when they beckon Vega over as well. There are two extra guards, and it's the first time they've tried to take both slaves at the same time.

Vega, who has been silent almost exclusively for those four days, rises mechanically and goes to them. She gazes at them, her eyes unreadable, but her lips smiling.

Therian's wondering what will come of this. There are a number of possibilities. Their being told to fight to the death is one, certainly. She remains quiet, though, as Vega is appropriately bound and removed from the circle. They're both led, in somewhat separated parties, to a fairly large door...beyond is a very large room with a dirt floor, an arena. Both are led about twenty feet in, then forced to their knees while the drow remove their bindings.

Vega, as ever, goes along willingly. She wonders at what the hell is going on, of course, but the oddly open setting concerns her. "Drow, drow..." she murmurs, softly. 
Someone standing atop the high wall ringing the entire, elliptical arena tosses a number of weapons down to each of them in turn...three daggers and a shortsword each.

Therian slips one of the daggers and the shortsword through slits she'd cut in her pants for just this activity...the other two daggers she keeps in hand. "Arm yourself. Never stay down, no matter what," she murmurs to Vega as quietly as she can and still be understood.

Vega takes a sword and a dagger, each in turn, staring at the shortsword. Her first thought, made so obvious by her expression, is to take the sword and shove it into her own body. But that fades quickly. She nods to Therian, and looks around herself.

On the other side of the arena, a young drow soldier is shoved in...to be executed, Therian knows immediately from hearing him stumble in. He's only equipped with a standard shortsword, though of course only the triton can know that at this point, and looks like a semi-man doing his best to look tough.

"Human, stand aside. This is for the triton," the overseer calls.

Therian heads nearer the wall. "Mer," the overseer calls, far more sharply... "kill or be killed."

Vega looks up at him. Laughs. Coldly, painfully, hatefully, all in the same vocalization. "Drow." She walks towards the soldier, but there is no betraying her mood. Her tears are fresh.

He narrows his eyes. They glance over to the other assassin, then back to this one. This one's newer, he's sure. It's got to be her first time...she's just not acting right. He raises the sword, stance defensive.

Vega walks right up to him and swings the sword carelessly, not bothering to guard herself. The attack is expert, for certain, but it is as if she cares nothing for which one of them is killed. The drow jerks back, receiving a gash on the cheek. He's surprised by Vega's speed, but lunges forward with his own sword.

The mer hops to the right, a quick, non-commital maneuver that puts her into easy kicking range. Tears of self-loathing still streaming down her pallid cheeks, she lifts her leg and snaps it out in a side kick aimed squarely for his knee.

He'd had a kick destined for her side, but hers connects and sends him off balance. He grunts, falls...lands on a knee.

Vega doesn't hesitate. The short sword comes down, aimed for the base of his neck as a prayer for the safety of their souls rolls across her lips.

His breath is sucked in sharply...spine is severed, and eyes stunned for the barest of moments before fading. He collapses at the triton's feet.

Vega drops the sword. Her eyes still run with tears, but they aren't the upset, maniacal tears of earlier. More like... regretful. She kneels, and begins to pray over the body in Dumeni so that the other drow will not understand her words. 

"Forgive me," she says in that language, "for not dying on this field instead of you." She looks to Therian, then to the drow, and says in Common. "He is forgiven."

Therian glances down at the body. "Funny-looking form of forgiveness."

Vega's eyes close. "What would you know about forgiveness? It isn't in you. Or them." She glances up, awaiting the next challenge or punishment. "Any idiot can use a sword," she calls to them, "if you really want an assassin, you will find a way to forge new fins for me. Strap them to my arms, graft them to the stumps you left. I don't care."

"You will fight with what you're told to fight with. You are Vayen's attack bitch and nothing more." The overseer scowls, countenance definitely a warning.

"I do not care if you think you are hard. You heard what I said, and I will not say it again." Vega shrugs, washing her hands of the matter, and turns to the gate, simply waiting.