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And because it was a nerve affecting chemical, it would take a different nerve affecting chemical to remove the paralysis. At least, the paralysis of consciousness that is, because his motor functions were inhibited by something else.

The neurotoxins of course, were used to shut down and alter the brains ability to think and do, which results in loss of consciousness, but thats not important at the moment. And antidote, which was made specifically to counteract the toxin, would be injected into the back of the man's head via a syringe.

And when he would regain consciousness, there would be abright light shining into his face. Actually, no, there wasnt. The room was just as generally dark as all the other rooms and chambers underground.

"So what makes you so special?" the voice which belonged to a man in the back would ask as he snapped on some black rubber gloves.

He'd recieve a nice hard slap to the face with the rubber gloved hand as the man would finish putting them on and walk over without giving him a chance to say more. His body may still be paralyzed, but from the neck up, everything was still fair game. Not to mention that it was a good thing he couldnt feel anything below the shoulders, since his intestines were tied in a knot and all since it was something retarded funny and pointless.

"So what makes you so special?" the man repeated, this time, he would be quite visible. One could say he looked like the typical mad scientist; dirty coat, black apron, large rubber gloves, wrinkled face, crooked teeth.

The slap has for his face to turn towards the right, his eyes staying open as he gathers the surroundings. Joran knew that this isn't a good place to be. And feeling incapable of movement, he'll have to abide for now... or would he?

"Depends on the element." His head turns slowly back towards the man starring daggers into the man's eyes.

They always had to do things the hard way. Like Siat before, this man did not want to cooperate. Of course, they performed more or less the identical procedure as before, hence why the interogator was wearing gloves.

It was very simple for him to just reach over and pick up one of the scalpels on the side table. If Joran was interested in what else there were available, he'd see something like that of a mix between a chemistry set and a doctor's operating equipment: glass vials, cutting tools, and various other utensils would be available.

And the quickest and simplest method was to procure a blood sample. And so, he would cut the man's neck, on the right side where the jugular was located. A rather shallow cut of course, he just wanted a sample, not to kill the man. As for the wound, well, stitching it up would take too long. He'd just grab a blowtorch and cauterize it.

And so, after draining some blood into a vial and corking it, the procedure taking ten seconds of so, he'd go on. More than enough time for the man to display anything if he so wished it if he was in a position to do so.

If not, then the man would go on.

"The liver is a very essential part of the body. It cleans the blood, recycling dead cells. The blood of an individual of course, is a powerful tool in the dark arts." he spoke with a cold clinical tone, as if he was describing a procedure, talking to himself as he worked, "By examining this and its functions in an individual, one can unlock the mysteries the body holds."

And well, he'd simply start cutting the man's gut open. Unlike the examiner before, he was a very clean person. Clean gloves, clean utensils, though his own personal hygene and his clothes were lacking.


One does not enter Sorrow's Keep without a reason. And if those who trespass had thought that with just a lack of sunlight in the winter was cold, then they would be unpleasantly surprised with the properties of a desecrated land. The land itself was essentially barren of life; no plant, no animal. Trees were nothing but dead grey withered hands reaching up to the grey lifeless sky. And there was no warmth in the land, not even when the sun was out. Additionally, there was always a friggid breeze blowing unnaturally about the landscape, a chill which bit down to the bone.

But before the man would be hitting anything, while he was screaming up at the sky, he'd be surrounded by shadowy figures.

"State your business."

It was very simple. Those who were not conducting any important business would be asked to leave, failure to do so would be considered a declaration of war and grounds for immediate termination.

"There is no Victor here." the voices whispered in unison, each voice only off from one another slightly like a twisted echo. "Leave."

Leo was waiting for something, he wasn't ready to leave just yet, and the insects were telling him to stay.

Leonard remained ready to pull out his cleaver.

Because of the cold, relatively few insects were gathering around, but there were a few. Roaches began crawling out from under Leonard's pants and runing around his feet, crawling out of his hair down his face, and up his neck from his robes. It seemed a number roaches were coming from every direction. some had followed Leonard, other's came from the keep itself.

Roaches thrived in the worst environments, and loved dank foul places where experiments on flesh were performed, foul dungeons with rotting flesh, labyrinthine passages kept dark. They didn't need life and prosperity to thrive, they could thrive just about anywhere. They moved quickly when they had to, and squeezed through every crack and crevice as they scavenged for the decay they needed to live. They came despite the cold, suffering a slight reduction in metabolism if they weren't on Leo's skin.

They weren't there to attack though. Leo could see through them, feel them, hear them, he was connected.

"No," Leo said.

No insects. The ones that followed him here from the plains were either dead or dying. His connections being cut multiple times, in the air above they could survive a little longer away from this emanating darkness, only to be bought down by the cold.

The roaches stopped, refusing to leave his flesh as the power of death was so all encompassing that even creatures which could thrive after a nuclear holocaust would have the life sucked out of them. His insects wouldn't be much use here. This wasn't poison either, it was pure negative energy, he could sense it. He didn't like this place, he hated it, it was killing his friends every day.



Leo pulled his cleaver from its holder with his right hand, the blade facing outward, allowing it to slice through the flesh of his left arm superficially, enough to make him bleed and send the scent of blood through the air.

They had him encircled, so he turned and ran at the shadow behind him, swinging his cleaver so as to behead it as he ran outside the encirclement. Running and swinging so that his cleaver would slice the dark shadow to his left if it tried to attack him from behind.

He didn't know ho fast these things were, but there were eyes on the back of his head, helping him keep track of what was behind him.

But Joran wasn't being sarcastic, it was the truth, but it's not like the doctor would know this. After all, Joran's paralyzed from the neck downwards, so he couldn't make any gestures to point towards his right arm. The next best thing, however, was the movement of his eyes, "Well, if you give me a chance to notify you what I mean. Just follow my eyes... apparently, you do know... I can't move."

And with that said, Joran's eyes shift from being on the doctor's eyes back to his right shoulder then back to the doctor's eyes, "Like I said before, it depends on the element." Even though, the man would surely be in pain, if it weren't for his high tolerance for it, and plus the factor that his body was a mere avatar.

"Mysteries? Well, do tell... I'd like to know of this..." But he mumbled afterwards, "Where's that damn Toccata..."