When his lord and master - his father - had seen fit to reveal the longstanding debt that Bane owed him, the Dark Urge hadn't yet contemplated what payment could look like. No stranger to the conniving nature of gods, not least Bhaal, that it should be Bane's Chosen who would give value to the currency of this debt payment had been surprisingly satisfying. Aside from the beautifully sharp realisation that this was the perfect opportunity to pin down the cult of Bane, keeping it a fledgling as Bhaal's might grew, he's also due to profit from this arrangement. A gift, from father to son.
His father, Lord of Murder, was clear on how he planned to punish Bane. Keeping his Chosen very much alive and inhibiting the god of Tyranny from selecting another while that remained true. The Dark Urge would have been the only choice, the only one capable of controlling his urges enough to stay his hand almost indefinitely. Skilled enough to cut and slice and maim without inflicting a final fatal blow.
Bhaal's son would have a plaything and Bane would rage in hate at this maddening position he's to be held in.
The meetings with Bane's Chosen - Enver Gortash - had followed the same pattern right up to the last. Business was always at the forefront of their communication, though the Dark Urge had allowed the heat of his desire to slip through to his expression more than once. Imagination taking him to dark places as he patiently looked forward to all the things he planned to do to the man once the deal had been struck. And the dark-haired human was delightful to look at, to imagine upon his face all the expressions he'd be unable to keep hemmed in once his new master took over.
So it had been irritating when he'd slipped free from right under their noses, something that the Dark Urge would punish those around him for later. Though his primary concern is catching up with the human who has, on some level, impressed him getting as far as he has. Outrunning an assassin like Bhaal's own flesh, however, was always going to be unlikely. And so when he holds the man against a wall, one hand at his throat, the other pinning his dagger-laden hand somewhere above his shoulder, he smiles.
"You are exciting prey," he eventually says, the hunger in his eyes a shadowy mix of arousal and hot-blooded designs on murder. It isn't a wonder that Enver believes his time to be ending now. The bhaalspawn takes his time to get that urge under control, allowing it to throb in his blood before compacting it down from the very surface of his thoughts.
"And lethal, at that. I counted three. You will be a fine addition."
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His father, Lord of Murder, was clear on how he planned to punish Bane. Keeping his Chosen very much alive and inhibiting the god of Tyranny from selecting another while that remained true. The Dark Urge would have been the only choice, the only one capable of controlling his urges enough to stay his hand almost indefinitely. Skilled enough to cut and slice and maim without inflicting a final fatal blow.
Bhaal's son would have a plaything and Bane would rage in hate at this maddening position he's to be held in.
The meetings with Bane's Chosen - Enver Gortash - had followed the same pattern right up to the last. Business was always at the forefront of their communication, though the Dark Urge had allowed the heat of his desire to slip through to his expression more than once. Imagination taking him to dark places as he patiently looked forward to all the things he planned to do to the man once the deal had been struck. And the dark-haired human was delightful to look at, to imagine upon his face all the expressions he'd be unable to keep hemmed in once his new master took over.
So it had been irritating when he'd slipped free from right under their noses, something that the Dark Urge would punish those around him for later. Though his primary concern is catching up with the human who has, on some level, impressed him getting as far as he has. Outrunning an assassin like Bhaal's own flesh, however, was always going to be unlikely. And so when he holds the man against a wall, one hand at his throat, the other pinning his dagger-laden hand somewhere above his shoulder, he smiles.
"You are exciting prey," he eventually says, the hunger in his eyes a shadowy mix of arousal and hot-blooded designs on murder. It isn't a wonder that Enver believes his time to be ending now. The bhaalspawn takes his time to get that urge under control, allowing it to throb in his blood before compacting it down from the very surface of his thoughts.
"And lethal, at that. I counted three. You will be a fine addition."