It was a monster; a thing devoid of all feeling. Neutral, uncaring - not evil, but not good either. Bones ground across slabs of sickly, black muscle. Fangs longer than a longbow's arrow jutted from a skeletal face of unnerving intensity. Were Mundhir not fighting an epic battle within the confines of his mind for the last scraps of his resolve, he'd of noted that the creature was smiling. 

"So, mortal, you think yourself able to interfere with [i]Her[/i] will?" it spoke, though its fleshless face did not stir. Its voice was deep and guttural, sending slight vibrations through the Prince's innards.

"W..who?" was all that Mundhir could muster. 

"Who I am does not concern you, mortal, but what I can give does," it said. There was no emotion to its sunken words, and Mundhir became aware that the more it spoke, the bigger the monster seemed to appear. 

Straining his neck to look the creature in the eye, he shrugged, "enough riddles. If you are my doom, then take me, I'm beginning to care less and less with each passing second." He was banking on appearing courageous, but his trembling body betrayed him. 

"Tempting, mortal," the creature said. "Though you do not fit my ... criteria." 

"What is it you want then?" Mundhir shot back; he brought his sabre up in a futile gesture of defiance.

"To help," it said. "To help you forge your destiny, free from the hands that have guided it this far." 

"And," Mundhir chuckled madly. "what price do I have to pay for such a pleasantry?" 

"Your flesh."

"My flesh?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

The creature shuddered suddenly, and growled. "I grow impatient. Do you accept or not?"

Mundhir shook his head, "no, I do not. I'll keep my flesh, thanks." 

"Then everything you know, everything you love will burn; Eblistan with its high walls, Nillanor with its sad cemeteries, and the lands beyond. All scorched by [i]Her[/i] will... made possible by you," the creature rattled. 

The Prince was unmoved by such words; he stepped forwards. "I have learnt much since I came here, demon, namely that Gods cannot be trusted, and that their words are poisonous lies. Away from me, before I add you to the list of things to burn at my hands." 

"Such hubris. She has willed for this to happen, and I have done what I can. You stupid, stupid mortal, you have no idea of what horror are you to unleash," the creature's voice took on a rasping tone. "Return then, to your precious world, and embrace your purchased doom."

"I accept your offer," Mundhir said suddenly. "Take my flesh."

The monster's terrible grin widened, and it chattered its teeth. "Why change your mind?" 

"Because I have lost all reason to live; your promises seem finer than any other, and... I see an honesty in that gruesome appearance of yours," Mundhir said, and paused to throw down his sabre. "I don't supposed you care to give me your name, now that you have my flesh?" 

The monster lowered itself, so that its eyes were level with the Prince's. 

"Death." 

[center]***[/center]

Mundhir awoke in the war room; the din of battle muffled in his ears as if he were submerged in water. He raised his hand over his face, when he realised his eye lids would not respond to him, and recoiled as he saw yellowed bones instead of fingers. 

[i]"You are dead, Mundhir."[/i] the monster's voice had followed him to the waking world. 

"You sai-"

[i]"I said your flesh, and I have taken it; you will walk the world without feeling, without weariness, without conscience."[/i] 

Mundhir mulled these words, and noticed that the pang of dread that had hung over him of late had subsided; the haunting image of an Elf child being ridden down by his rampaging horse nothing more than a grim observation, rather than a soul crushing memory. 

"Am I... like you?" He asked, picking himself up from the floor. The world around him was a whirl of violence and bloodshed.

[i]"You are without flesh, without blood and without organs; though others will not see you as such."[/i] 

Mundhir had heard all he needed; suddenly, he had little care for subtlety. He had come to Baalor a poisoned corpse, and now he was going to leave the ruins a carefully disguised skeleton. Oh, how fun life could be! 

Humans fought humans within the war room- but no, they were not all humans. Mundhir's mind recalled the masks the assassins hid behind, and knew them from the night he was infected by the Ice Venom. There was something unnatural about them; something divine and evil. He looked around for his sabre, and noted a woman stood nearby him; a small pile of discarded black clothes around her feet. 

[i]"Go Prince. I have removed Her controls over your body, for you are nothing but marrow and gristle. Go and cause Her a mischief, and tell Her that I am waiting."[/i]

Sounded like a fine plan to Mundhir; a fine plan indeed. A quest worthy of his uses. 

"You there," he said to the feminine warrior, with her scantily clad legs and flowing blonde hair. "My sabre, where is it? We have knife work to do!" 

Something shunted him from his blind side, and he crumpled to the floor with the force; he saw the bones of his wrist scrape across the stone floor - though he felt no pain. He chuckled to himself; this was all just hilarious. He looked up to see who had caused such a fun thing to happen, and noted the metal mask frowning at him.

"Welcome to my humble city," Mundhir said, stifling laughter. "Please, stay a while, and let me show you the sights!" 

Within an instant, he was on his feet; his fleshless, albeit disguised form was weightless and he felt he was able to move much faster than his former self. The assassin backed up, surprised by Mundhir's vertical recovery. 

"Yes, I have much to show you," Mundhir said, and then shoved his bony fingers into the slits in the assassin's mask with a lightning-fast jab. The assassin squealed for a few seconds, and then vanished. "Oh? Where did he get to?" 

[i]"They are the Dark Kin, and they serve Her. Men once. Men no longer. They escape my power, and are affront to everything I stand for."[/i]

"Is that so?" Mundhir muttered. "Well, let us put them back where they rightfully belong." he cranked his head to the heroine. No doubt she'd stood her ground, defending him for a time whilst he spoke with Ebli and Thrandel. "Woman! My sabre!?"