The Lords of Blood gain power and strength from all those whose vitality they consume. There are two ways that they can partake in one's blood. The first is to drain a victim's life essence completely, thus killing him. While this leads to great amounts of power, it is short lived and constantly be replenished. The second is to bond with the blood of a living surrogate. Such a connection lasts until either the victim or the master dies, but may be renewed several times for greater benefit. While less powerful, both are enhanced by the ties that bind them. 

Compendium of Beasts by Lord Trihold

"Sub-General Nightwing has returned from Tuske."

Staring out one of the palace windows, General Kayzar listened to the report from his spy. "I thought my orders were clear?"

"They were, sir." His agent took a half step back as the general drummed his armored fingers on the chord wound hilt of his sword.

"Then why has she returned in something other than a pine box?" General Kayzar swung to glare at the man reporting to him news that he found less than acceptable. "What part of 'eliminate her now', and 'the next time I see her, she better not be breathing', was not understood?" The steel of the ram-horned helm surrounding his face amplified his cold, harsh tones.

The man reporting the news swallowed with a noticeable gulp. "I cannot speak for those assigned the task, as I was not-"

Unwilling to wait for the explanation to finish, General Kayzar's black armored first slammed into stone and the wall rattled with his might of his fury. "I will not tolerate excuses."

"No, sir." The man cowered another two steps back. "I was only stating, if I may, that those designated to carry out the task, persons other than myself and who actually have the necessary talents to fulfill your request, would have to answer that question." The spy then bowed.

As he returned his gaze back out the window, Lord Hedric's Supreme General breathed with heavy, repetitive breaths. A silence between them remained for a while before he finally spoke again. "If she is not dead within the next month, heads will no longer be attached to shoulders. Yours included. I want Brucar and Halond assigned to this task personally. They're the best I have."

"Brucar and Halond?" the spy said, his nose turning up a bit at the names. "Haven't seen them in weeks. Last report had them out west, looking for this rumored cleric with the ability to heal with only her words and her will."

"Have they found her?" the General asked.

"I have heard nothing to indicate they have."

Again there was silence. "For your sake, I hope you can find them and deliver my orders."

"Me?" The spy's words squeaked out like he was a mouse being stepped on. But a look from unseen eyes from within the black helm of the imposing figure before him told him the request was not up for debate. The spy corrected his tone and his disposition towards the request. "Of course, General. I will find them with all due haste."

General Kayzar stated the obvious. "Failure, is not an option for you."

Erick watched through eyes long deprived of needed sleep as Sub-General Nightwing paced before him. She stopped to drum her fingers on the frame of an oversized device of torture kept within the confines of the miserable dungeon. "You know, I think this is probably the longest time anyone has been able to withstand my interrogations."

"Maybe you should just kill me and get it over with." Erick's body resisted so many of his desired movements, the effects of being broken down during his continuing captivity.

"Oh no. I'm not letting you off that easy." She started to pace again. "You've got information that I want. And I will get it."

"You'll not get anything from me." Erick tested the strength of the newly reinforced shackles that bound him to the wall. Attempting to free himself was almost second nature and now a subconscious reaction to the unwelcome bindings that held him.

Cassandra grinned at his feeble efforts, but she had not an ounce of pity. "You'll find getting out of those will be significantly more difficult than the last pair. I can only imagine how painful it must have been to break your own wrist in order to slip your one hand out of the previous pair."

The Sub-General was right; it had been painful. And still was. The hand, Erick realized, would never heal right, and it hung there like a branch partially snapped in a storm. Erick would have probably been able to make his escape attempt a success when the attendant had come to force feed him his meal had Sub-General Nightwing not made an unexpected return a few moments later after a long and mysterious absence spanning several weeks. He'd only had enough time to knock the man out and was attempting to gather up the thin metal mug with his feet so he could pop the rivets of the handle and try to use it as a pry between his other wrist and the cuffs when she arrived and put a stop to his plan.

Cassandra pulled one of her swords into her right hand and tapped the flat of the Gray Steel blade on her shoulder. "So let's try this once again. I want to know how many rebels there are, who the current commanders are, and the location of their encampments. We found some indications of these in Tuske among letters the blacksmith had been keeping to track shipments of arms to your rebel friends."

"And once again, I'm not about to tell you." Erick defied her with every bit of strength he had, wondering what torture she'd have in store for him this time.

Cassandra's smile quickly turned to a scowl. "A pity. I'm beginning to think you enjoy pain." Walking up where he hung, she locked into his eyes; eyes which he tried to cast away from her. "Do you enjoy pain?" Cassandra planted the butt of her weapon into his jaw and caused his head to snap. "How much more of this are we going to have to go through?"

She grabbed his swelling jaw in her hands and moved his head this way and that, observing some of the many scars and marks he had acquired since his capture. Wounds that he seemed to wear as a badge of honor. She used to admire his resilience. Now it had grown to annoy her.

"I guess it is time for more severe measures," Cassandra said with a rising distaste for the entire situation. "I had hoped that it would not come to this. But I've been giving a lot of thought towards how to get you to talk. Pain doesn't seem to phase you. But what about the pain of others? Guard! Bring in the girl!"

At her command, the door at the top of the stairs flew open and a brawny man stomped down the steps. Under his arm he held tight to a squirming and loudly screaming girl still several years shy of ten. The fight in her caused him to struggle to contain her, but in the end she was no match for him and his superior strength.

Reaching where Cassandra stood, he lowered her feet to the ground. The child tried to bolt, although there was nowhere to go. Cassandra reached out, snatched her arm with catlike reflexes, and held her fast. The Sub-General pulled the child's hand up twisting it with no concern for her comfort and showed Erick the silver ring that she wore.

"Her father has already been killed for treason," she said. "Unless you answer me, her fate will be the same."

Erick looked away. "You would kill an innocent child?" he asked.

Her next inhaled breath came out in a blunt bit of advice. "Don't temp me. I don't make empty threats." She pulled the child to her, drew her sword to the child's throat, and the girl winced.

The child responded the only way should could. "Please! Tell her what she wants to know! Please, mister! Tell her!"

Cassandra tsked. "Aw, such a precious child. An 'innocent', you called her. And you would let her die to save traitors?"

Erick's had to turn away from the sight of the child, and his response couldn't come out at full volume. "I would let her die to save the world." Then he forced himself to put his eyes upon the child and witnessed the fearfulness in her gaze that was freezing her. "And for that, I am sorry."

As the child struggled, Cassandra kept her in place. "It will be your decision that sentences her to death!"

Erick sighed, then responded with a calm clarity. "But it will be your sword. And it will be by your hand. I will not betray the rebellion or the Greater Goddess. But will you betray your conscience? Will you betray what you know to be just and right?"

Cassandra winced at the words; words that forced her to defend herself. "What is just and right? Do not speak to me of the justness and rightness of the rebellion!"

"As Earoni's will was written, the truth must always be spoken," Erick replied. "Even in the darkness. Even when none shall listen."

"Do not quote your unholy scripture to me!" Cassandra tightened the grip on her blade and the child.

"Does it offend you that much?" Erick's rebuttal rumbled back at his captor. "Then cut out my tongue. But the words shall still ring true."

Growling at his insistence of being a hinderance to her goals, Cassandra had only one possible reply. "Then I have your answer? You will not tell me what I want to know?"

"You do." His acknowledgement rang with conviction. "And I won't."

"Then so be it." Cassandra paused, but only for the slightest of moments. She then turned, plunged her sword with a single thrust into the screaming child's chest and carried out her threat.

As the girl's cries died off faster than they should have, Erick cringed; the killing blow so clean and perfect. It seemed impossible for a life so young to end so abruptly, but it indeed had. The Sub-General discarded the lifeless body, and it crumpled to the ground as blood that was once so pure and once so full of life poured across the uneven stones.

Cassandra bent down and ripped off the silver band from the girl's still twitching hand, throwing it in front of Erick with a repeating clanging of metal on stone. She glowered as her prisoner took a hesitant look at the item and what it resting there represented. "This blood is on your hands," the Sub-General proclaimed with a note of triumph that seemed out of place and a bit forced. "As is all that comes from now on."

Erick closed his eyes, saying a silent prayer for the forfeited soul of the child that would never experience the joy of another day. "We all have to make choices." He forced out the words through clenched teeth; words that he wished were knives he could hurl at the evil woman before him. "I can live with mine. But the question is whether you can live with yours?"

His response in that instant struck at Cassandra like a punch to her gut. Filled with rage at the way he dared try to scold her and turn this around on her, she stormed up the stairs and out of the dungeon, slamming the door shut behind her.

Immediately on the other side, she let out a breath that she had been holding in and leaned against the door, brushing back the hair that fell into her eyes. The child's blood was still on her sword as she stood there, running down the blade to the tip. From there, it slowly dripped in singular red drops of rain to the floor. As though the weapon itself had sent a shock through her, her hand retreaded from the hilt, allowing the crimson-coated Gray Steel to clang on the floor. The realization that she had never directly killed a child before now stung her mind. Yes, in war, children died. Collateral damage was always present in every battle. But she had never personally ended the life of one so young.

"It was my sword." The words whispered to no one, for there was no one to hear Cassandra's thoughts that were spoken aloud. "My choice killed that girl." She closed her eyes, attempting to purge the thoughts of the child's wailing from her mind and clutched the medallion about her neck and beneath her uniform . "Father, what have I done? What have I become?"

In that moment, there was a flare of strength deep within her. It was a strength bolstered by memories of pain and suffering that all stemmed from that one day on that one road heading to the Elven Lands. Her anger at the thought of those who had killed her parents deserving mercy overrode her initial and frightful response to her actions. Vengeful green eyes burned with the same fire and resilience Cassandra had used to stay alive for all the years since that fateful day.

"I did what had to be done," she said. "And I will do it again."