In the infirmary...
[A day after this...]
"You can come in and see him, but I can't promise he'll be very talkative, not while he's on the mend."
Strahan did not care though; Rabastan's ability to communicate wasn't of much importance to him today. No. He'd come here for an entirely different purpose, one he knew would be made easier with the wizard not entirely of a mind to resist whatever the Ihlini sorcerer had planned for him.
Years of practise had told Strahan that, when implanting things like trap-links, the receptivity of the mind was paramount. The less resistance there was to deal with, the easier it would be to place them into the minds of others.
Rabastan's mind was putty in Strahan's hand; there would be no resistance, not with Rabastan already distracted with the animal that now lived inside him. And that fight would have weakened him long before Strahan made his decision to elicit some loyalty out of the newly-created werewolf.
He sat down on the chair offered him, while Rabastan made various sounds of pain and distress: panting, groaning, whimpering. And he opened the book he'd brought with him. Fiction about werewolves; something he considered as a part-albeit a less important part-of his research. He needed to know everything about werewolves and what he might be able to expect from Rabastan, and he was not about to leave a page unturned, not when his plans depended on a thorough knowledge of the subject.
Odd how adversity can turn some people into experts on a subject they might otherwise not have taken intrest in.
The book mentioned something about lycanthropic will. Or, that was what the author called it. Will. Simply put, it was a mental force that could influence others in a myriad of ways. Not unlike the ability Cheysuli and Ihlini claimed. The ability to compel someone to do as the caster wished him or her to do. He had not expected that, and he frowned. This could become more difficult than he expected.
But Rabastan was in pain. If he possessed the will, it would be compromised somewhat. It could be overcome by Ihlini strength.
He focussed his mind upon the wizard, while keeping his eyes on his book. Strahan did not want to encounter any opposition to his task, and as long as he made it look like he was keeping a vigil by Rabastan's side he'd elicit less suspicion from the medics who bustled about outside the room.
Focussed. And Rabastan groaned, though not from pain.
-hear me Rabastan Lestrange-
Another groan.
-you will do exactly as I say-
A whisper. "...no..."
-whatever I say, you will do-
"...no, you can't make me..."
-you will do as asked; you have no choice-
"...no, please, stop-"
Strahan increased the strength of his mental intrusion, stripping away the layers of resistance one by one, replacing them with his influence. And though Rabastan fought back, his injuries and recent transformation had left him weakened, and any ability he had to use to fight back with melted away like butter in a flame.
-you are loyal to me-
"...loyal..."
-yes, you are, and you will do as I tell you to-
And he told Rabastan what he was to do.
The book closed softly in Strahan's hands.
The deed was done.
"You can come in and see him, but I can't promise he'll be very talkative, not while he's on the mend."
Strahan did not care though; Rabastan's ability to communicate wasn't of much importance to him today. No. He'd come here for an entirely different purpose, one he knew would be made easier with the wizard not entirely of a mind to resist whatever the Ihlini sorcerer had planned for him.
Years of practise had told Strahan that, when implanting things like trap-links, the receptivity of the mind was paramount. The less resistance there was to deal with, the easier it would be to place them into the minds of others.
Rabastan's mind was putty in Strahan's hand; there would be no resistance, not with Rabastan already distracted with the animal that now lived inside him. And that fight would have weakened him long before Strahan made his decision to elicit some loyalty out of the newly-created werewolf.
He sat down on the chair offered him, while Rabastan made various sounds of pain and distress: panting, groaning, whimpering. And he opened the book he'd brought with him. Fiction about werewolves; something he considered as a part-albeit a less important part-of his research. He needed to know everything about werewolves and what he might be able to expect from Rabastan, and he was not about to leave a page unturned, not when his plans depended on a thorough knowledge of the subject.
Odd how adversity can turn some people into experts on a subject they might otherwise not have taken intrest in.
The book mentioned something about lycanthropic will. Or, that was what the author called it. Will. Simply put, it was a mental force that could influence others in a myriad of ways. Not unlike the ability Cheysuli and Ihlini claimed. The ability to compel someone to do as the caster wished him or her to do. He had not expected that, and he frowned. This could become more difficult than he expected.
But Rabastan was in pain. If he possessed the will, it would be compromised somewhat. It could be overcome by Ihlini strength.
He focussed his mind upon the wizard, while keeping his eyes on his book. Strahan did not want to encounter any opposition to his task, and as long as he made it look like he was keeping a vigil by Rabastan's side he'd elicit less suspicion from the medics who bustled about outside the room.
Focussed. And Rabastan groaned, though not from pain.
-hear me Rabastan Lestrange-
Another groan.
-you will do exactly as I say-
A whisper. "...no..."
-whatever I say, you will do-
"...no, you can't make me..."
-you will do as asked; you have no choice-
"...no, please, stop-"
Strahan increased the strength of his mental intrusion, stripping away the layers of resistance one by one, replacing them with his influence. And though Rabastan fought back, his injuries and recent transformation had left him weakened, and any ability he had to use to fight back with melted away like butter in a flame.
-you are loyal to me-
"...loyal..."
-yes, you are, and you will do as I tell you to-
And he told Rabastan what he was to do.
The book closed softly in Strahan's hands.
The deed was done.