Buns in the Oven [Kor]

When you found him, he aspired to be like me: he took glory in pain and though it the finest sensation. He took souls and made them his, in hopes of becoming as the gods he betrayed. You did not steal his conscience, little hunter, only curbed his lust for killing.

Kormok gladly kept her from her fears; unlike Korvus, he did not feed off of fear and terror. No, it was the strength of a soul that made him strong in turn, and the frail had no place in his sight.

And he will teach you strength in turn. You fear birthing so, but it will come to you easily. He tells you of your strength because he preyed upon the weak, little hunter. He knows women that would truly split in two from his progeny, and you are not one of those. Have some faith in yourself, little hunter, or else you will become just like the Sorceror was.

Kormok had seen her children. Not directly, perhaps, but there were those among the Pantheon with such sight and those who could clear Kormok's own blurry vision of what was to be in the lives of his true followers. She would survive the birthing, or he would not weave words in her mind of such things.

Each will be as their father in some way or another. I can tell you that they will be far from the same, but no more.

His tone betrayed with teasing clarity that he knew much more than he was telling.

Enjoy him, for he will remain yours. You have given purpose to a soul where there was none...

Another chuckle reverberated through the room.

Hate it though you sometimes may, he shall stay with you.

His form wavered. Korvus' hasty application of blood made the flames sputter, and in his haste was not as careful to make sure they would create a lasting blaze for a Great One to occupy. Kormok did not seem troubled, but spoke as he did before, like a Greatfather and not a god:

I will have to leave you soon, little hunter. My bond to this world grows weak.

Kormok's power was limited in the mortal world, of course, his allowance limited by how much one was willing to give of their life's blood to keep him there. With what remained of it, he cast a burning hand out toward the pile of furs. As he faded away, there appeared a small, round table of iron sat upon a tall, thin pedestal. The top of the table was etched into an eight-by-eight grid, and many tiny, ugly-looking figurines were sat on the top.

Give this to your sorceror mate, little hunter, with my regards.

And with that, the fire died and Kormok's presence faded into nothingness.

Korvus wasn't far, still partly in view of the den and half-looking for the apparently displaced Crow with little interest. Though he liked the beast and found its presence comforting, he was not terribly attached to it and wouldn't have found it too large a loss if it had decided to leave him then. However, he seemed to have all but disappeared, which Korvus found strange. Usually the beast was far too timid not to remain somewhere nearby. He sighed in defeat, nearing the den. He didn't sense Kormok, but was hesitant about returning, not knowing what the great horror which Bishop had the gall to call "Greatfather" might have done to calm her or not. He glanced furtively over, running his pale hands over his stubble as he considered giving it a bit more time or not.

Korvus smiled broadly to see Bishop, embracing her loosely and meeting her kiss with affection. Crow could wait. "You mean Kormok," Korvus said, not taking any particular offense to 'Greatfather' any longer. It was a losing battle to fight, and so long as Kormok didn't harm her he saw no reason to keep her from him. "Let me see it," he said, following her. He looked at the little table with interest when he entered, "Ah. I used to play this game back in Karmor," he said, looking at the iron pieces carefully. "Each sort of piece moves differently; it's a game of strategy, the lords used to play it to entertain themselves. I could teach it to you, if you liked." He looked at her again, and then slid his strong arms about her, "But later." He rubbed the side of her belly with his hand, "How is this feeling? I could rub it down for you, if your skin is hurting again." He kissed her on the forehead, "Or, if there's anything else you'd ask of me..."

Walking over to grab the ointment, Korvus flashed her a grin. "Insatiable? Don't give me all the credit," he teased, walking over with the ointment and lying down beside her. He snuggled up close to her, rubbing the ointment on his hands and then massaging her dome of a stomach gently. "I cannot be called 'insatiable' when you are so very irresistible." The widening of her fur bed, making it their fur bed was a pleasing event in Korvus' memory. They had slept together before, yes, numerous times, but something about this made it feel a little more permanent. Like it was expected to last much longer than a few enjoyable fucks. And indeed it did, lasting them many more than that. "It's a game of lords, Bishop, I should be glad to show you the basics." And reacquaint himself with the pieces. He hadn't played it in ages, but had a mind for it and found it an endlessly entertaining pastime for however long he did play it. "I set the traps whilst you were speaking with your 'Greatfather,' so all that's left for the evening is dinner." He moved in to kiss the tip of her nose, "And then the night is ours."

Korvus smiled, "Greatfather Kormok is pissy that I didn't become a Bloodbeast," he murmured, "And no games are going to lure me back to Karmor to be perverted to his liking." He didn't seem terribly unhappy, nor terribly disturbed. He got as close as he could to her when she apologized, entwining his legs with hers, "Bishop, you're pregnant. These things happen, and I'm not about to get angry with you about them." His voice was a very different sort of reassuring than Kormok's; there was caring in it, and a very strange tenderness, but gone was any fatherly qualities or visible shreds of condescension. He spoke as her mate, and nothing more. "I know you don't hate me, Bishop. I know that quite well, by now." He offered her another kiss, patting her stomach gently before continuing to rub.

The morning was an odd one. Korvus awoke early to check the traps, and on the way back had found Crow. Crow, unfortunately, was not quite the creature he had been upon leaving. One bout of Kormok's presence too many had changed him, indeed, and by the time Bishop woke up he was neatly swaddled in a dark blue shawl, his beak sticking out from under his hood but his beady black eyes remaining hidden. Having finished cooking breakfast, the smell of food filled the air, and presently Korvus occupied Crow in teaching him the strange game that Kormok had given him. "And the Skull-reaver, this one that sits next to the Lord, can move in almost any direction, except for how the Bloodbeasts can," he explained, moving about one of the taller pieces to demonstrate. "It is- errak!- strongest, then?" rasped another, less-human voice, which squawked and cawed amid its sentences. Kovus nodded in response, but the Crow-thing seemed puzzles, "Why is... Lord not strongest, if it is most... important?" he queried. Korvus shrugged, "I didn't make the game, Crow."

"It's Crow," Korvus said after Bishop had come back from her pee, Crow examining the pawns as Korvus explained. The pawns were runty, ugly, gargoyle-like demons that Korvus had explained to be imps; the lowest and most basic form of demon, formed of the latent power of Great Ones. "Kormok's presence twisted him, among other factors. He's not a man, nor is he a bird, but he's... well, something in the middle." Its simple, clawed fingers reached out to clumsily pet Dog, chittering its approval of the creature. "As long as he can move about and such, I suppose he can help around the house." He turned away from the board, walking over to get some stew for Bishop, cuddling up next to her as he offered it. "Experiment with the pieces and memorize their movements, Crow. We'll play a round when I don't have more important things concerning me," he said, stroking Bishop's hair as he mentioned 'important things.'

Korvus laughed, "I make servants better than I make friends," he said. Crow chittered as he moved the pieces experimentally about; that he could speak was odd enough for him, and he still wasn't entirely used to the idea, but stranger still were these claws that sat at the end of what were once his wings. Now he could manipulate things like his master and his maneating mate could, and his second experience with it was in some great game of the mind that he was certain he wasn't ready for, especially with his first being to grope about on the forest floor for a walking-stick. "Crow, take that over by the fire, mm? Somewhere out of the way," Korvus suggested, to which Crow obeyed by unsteadily shoving the board as he limped along until both it and he were out of sight.

"Magical? That could mean quite a lot of things, you know..." he murmured, tracing circles upon her belly with his finger, "One of our children may end up like the Unbeliever, being yours." He chuckled at the idea, pleased at how relaxed Bishop seemed with the whole situation. It would do her no good to be so concerned about it all, especially when the time for birthing came around, and so he supposed that her talks with her 'Greatfather' did some good. "The Unbeliever was a warrior, so the legend goes, who simply did not believe in magic. No matter how many conjurers he came across or wizards he dueled, he simply wasn't convinced. The legend says that magic stopped having any effect on him, after a time, and that even the mightiest of sorcerors had great difficulty using it in his presence, if they could at all. That sounds like magic in itself, to me: forcibly imposing your wishes on reality."

He could sense Serkathi's androgynous features breaking into a spiteful grin when Bishop asked him of his experience as a midwife. There was much about the god(dess') methods he was not wont to discuss. "I have some. I've never truly helped a woman give birth, but I understand how to do so."

Korvus was more than content to speak of their children. In truth, it relaxed him as well, and more than that made him happy. It affirmed many things to him, things he sorely needed to be reminded of when times became trying. He remained affectionate, squeezing her hand and curling up protectively against her. "If the other is to become a conduit for the darker powers, as I, then I will teach them as my master taught me. To use such power is to imply things of yourself that some will fear, and others will see as a challenge... I will teach them to use it to effect, as you might teach our Unbeliever in the ways of bloodier killing. It will be as their blade, but it is wisdom that I will truly teach them." He nuzzled affectionately at her neck, "Names... hm." He considered much, particularly his dreams. "What should we name a girl?" Rhadamanthus would not fit well, he considered. The name of the Warped Prince of Tesserak was, well, just that; one of a prince, not a princess. Of course, the Warped Prince was probably just as much a princess as not, being sexless to begin with, but it still did not fit. "Rhada, perhaps.."

Rhada kicked in her mother's stomach angrily and Bishop cried out, lurching away from Korvus to curl up around her stomach, rubbing the spot where Rhada's heel had struck so viciously. "...o-one of them does not... like that" she said. It was odd that her children were so sentient at this point. That their awareness was so acute bothered her. Did they know when she and Korvus were intimate? What they talked of at all times? When they slept... did they dream? Of what? "One we are... naming Eliphas. He told me this would be his name" she said as she uncurled, pressing back into Korvus's arm.

FATHER! FATHER YOU WILL NAME ME RHADAMANTHUS. YOU WILL NOT STEAL THE GLORY I AM TO HAVE.

"They speak to you, now," Korvus observed, unsurprised. He was even less surprised to hear the demand from the girl, the same who had said it would be her name some months ago. He knew there were no such thing as happenstance, especially not with something as queer (for Korvus) as a dream, and so relented. "Rhadamanthus it is. I suppose they will be St. Claires as you are, Bishop, with my name lost to me. And the other... Eliphas? As I was named?" he smiled, "I hope that one is a boy, then. Perhaps he will become as I am, then..." He recalled his dream again; the male wore armor, the feminine voice wore robes. "But perhaps not."

"They speak in dark tongues," Korvus observed, reaching out to rub her belly once more, "Eliphas and Rhadamanthus... they sound quite a pair. We are certain they're brother and sister, then..." he smiled at this, finding it a rather interesting turn of events. Warrior and warlock, boy and girl... what could they be but utter opposites? "And Eliphas... if he is anything like his father, he will do what he can to be nothing like him. He will seek out the wisdom of another, perhaps, but he could not learn from me. What can you tell me of the girl, Bishop?" he asked. Eliphas St. Claire... it had a menacing ring to it, a noble-sounding name of power and composure that Korvus liked. Rhadamanthus St. Claire perhaps less so, but Rhadamanthus alone was an evil-sounding name. Those who knew of Karmor and not would recognize the power in its harsh syllables.

"How confused they must be, when we make love," Korvus teased, drawing closer to her again. He moved in to plant a kiss upon her cheek, "Our children will bring glory to your name and death to the weak and unworthy, whatever their path," he declared, albeit in an oddly soft and affectionate voice. "Between their mother and father, they couldn't help to do any less, mm?" He hadn't made any plans to do anything in particular today, as with many days of late; besides setting the traps back up, he was without obligation. So, the only thing on his mind was Bishop.

Crow halfheartedly pet Dog, still messing about with the pieces. He considered asking Dog to play a round with him, but dismissed the idea; he didn't want to have to teach Dog how to play, after all, and not when his own grasp of the game was so poor.