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In the end, he blamed himself for his loss.It took him some time withdrawn into his own rage to get to this point of self-reflection, yes, but he eventually got there. Which was, to be frank, a sort of dark miracle in its own right.It took about a week of said rage, however. Nursing his terrible wounds-they would have killed a normal man who had not possessed the diabolic powers he and his former partner did-the tall, red-haired man had finally managed to compose himself enough to consider his next actions.Isaac swung his legs over from the makeshift bed in the massive, stone tower he had claimed for his own; his wounds were about healed. His dark powers sped things along rather nicely, though it still took longer than he’d have liked. The tower smelled fairly dank, though it was clean and maintained. The wind howled outside; he reckoned it was early evening, though the clouds were often so thick over the land it was difficult to tell. He and Hector had fought. That... traitor. He was their lord’s favorite-much to Isaac’s chagrin-and yet he had still betrayed him? And for what? Because he sent them after a Belmont ? Was he that much of a coward? Surely if he were the... better one of the two he would have nothing to fear.Shaking his head to interrupt his train of thought for a second, he looked out the window; it seemed to be going onto evening. Cloudy-the sun did not often shine in Wallachia-and seemingly ready to rain at a moments notice. It wasn’t like Isaac cared. He preferred the gloom.It washed away the blood quickly enough when it was shed...though it wasn’t like being covered in it bothered him, either. He actually liked it.When his lord was actually somehow killed by the Belmont-Trevor, he had heard-he had lost his mind. He supposed this led him to fight sloppily. They were typically even, he and Hector-both physically and in their forgemaster powers-yet somehow Count Dracula had seemingly slightly favored the other man. His patience, perhaps-Isaac was not known for his patience, and this could lead to the occasional mistake.This is what cost him in the fight, he figured. The two had sparred many times, with sword, spear, axe, or even the fist, with or without their diabolical familiars. Sometimes one would pull out over the other, but often they ended even, the two of them spitting blood and nursing sometimes nasty looking wounds.But in the time that it truly mattered, Hector had bested him. It had been fast; Isaac had started to go into a haze of rage, his powerful attacks turning reckless; both had taken injuries, and some of them had grown serious. Blades and limbs clashed, blood spattered, their devils fighting one another as they tried to help their respective masters; neither survived as each man had brutally killed the others'.Isaac had thought the strike he had landed on Hector’s torso would put him out, but the other man had come up with one last attack that Isaac had not predicted in his rage, and this had cost him. He had barely even felt the hit, and only fell over when he noticed the copious amounts of blood running from his side to the grass below.He wondered if Hector had actually lived through his wounds, as when he woke up, there was a trail of blood leading away. He figured he did…if he could heal these, surely Hector could have healed his as well.Which meant he had a bit of searching to do.Listening to the thunder rolling in-also fairly common these days-he should have known that something was going on when he had noticed Hector had grown a bit...distant in his duties. While he never reveled in bloodshed like Isaac, he never shirked from what was asked of him...until near the end. He started to question their lord-something Isaac found absurd -and on top of this, he had started to...slip up. People would be left to escape. Prisoners would go unguarded. It was like he cared nothing for what their lord had given him.Snarling under his breath, Isaac shook his head, pushing back some of his unruly red hair before examining his hand a moment. He finally stood, the pain mostly gone-not that it bothered him, as pain was something that Isaac could not only take, but actively enjoy. Examining himself-the blade had bit deep, and had he leaned the wrong way, he could have been sliced in twain-he knew he could get back to not only his... former duties, but his new goal, as well.He had no trouble with basic fighting-after a day of lying by a tree in the woods, allowing his dark powers to somewhat knit his wounds-he had left, walking slowly through the countryside to try to find a place to regroup...and begin his hunt.A day had passed uneventfully, when he had arrived at this tower and had been accosted by two guards; even wounded, without an Innocent Devil nor a weapon they died rather easily. But challenging foes-the supernatural beasts and the like that roamed the countryside in particular could be a problem in this state, he knew. These two, while they could sort out bandits, brigands, and common cultists with little trouble, had no chance versus the vicious Devil Forgemaster. Isaac was rather tall, and while he looked slim at a glance, he was corded with muscle and far stronger than he let on...the men realized a bit too late.Their skulls-jawless, broken in several places rather severely and caked in dried blood-stared blankly down from the mantlepiece of the fireplace of the first floor-perhaps cursing him, though if they did, Isaac was not too concerned. Their mangled corpses had been flung to the woods for the animals. He had torn into them with a fury that he barely remembered; full of rage and hate from his battle with Hector, everything he had felt toward him at that moment-his loss, the betrayal, everything-he had taken out on these two it seemed as he proceeded to viciously beat them to bloody pulp. The frightening war-cry he uttered after could leave nightmares behind anyone who may have heard it.He supposed they would get to stand vigil over this place permanently.The tower had been used perhaps as some sort of waycastle, though perusing the high floors showed him a library with several books dealing with magic and the occult which told him that it was perhaps used by scholars in the area...no doubt to arm themselves with knowledge against his dark lord.He almost hoped a few would show up so he could...make their acquaintance.Isaac hadn’t had a chance to fully check out the contents of them, though; mostly he had slept. Now, he grew restless and impatient again, as was his habit; he first wanted to begin to reassemble his familiars again, to rearm himself, and to then begin tracking Hector down. Days of rain had washed away any blood trails, and he would have to start from scratch; the traitor had a week’s start on him and he had no idea where to start.Pulling on his coat-the long, high-necked black cloth jacket that he had worn as a general of Count Dracula had a rather regal appearance-he went to go assess the situation outside. It had a slice in the side from Hector’s sword, but he paid it no mind.He was in Wallachia still; he was not sure exactly where, but he supposed that he could just start walking and he could come across a settlement of sorts. He knew the area, of course, but not every square foot of it. He also expected less than a ideal welcome; both Isaac and Hector were feared around the countryside, the two of them and their diabolical familiars taking many, many lives. When Count Dracula needed things sorted out now, he would send Isaac and Hector. While they weren’t necessarily close friends, they were cordial and worked well together, and Isaac even had a hefty respect for his skills. Hector had...mixed feelings about him, he knew. While Isaac’s skill impressed him as well, his...heavier-handed methods would make him shiver sometimes. He would not hesitate to maim, kill, or torture. While Hector could certainly be ruthless, he would often at least try a bit more reconnaissance before moving onto the killing; often within minutes Isaac would have someone ran completely through on his blade as he was crushing one’s neck under his heel, and that was just the start of the bloodshed. The un-nerving laughter was something else that Hector found chilling.His other tastes-while the tattoos he had inked onto his body-by hand, and not by magical means-weren’t too weird, his body piercing-and the way he would seemingly get off on the feel of it-was something Hector didn’t understand at all.Yet they had worked together until his betrayal. Isaac had questions...so many. Why? What made him do this? It cost his lord his life, though being who he was he imagined he would find a way back....and he planned on helping.He would get his answers...one way or another.Alas, he would have some investigating to do. That was yet another thing he cursed Hector for, as if there weren’t enough things already. Not only did the traitor actually manage to win , but he was now forcing Isaac to bide his time and be patient.Things that the red-haired man did not appreciate.Glancing back up at the grim decor over the small fireplace, Isaac knew he had to rearm himself. While he was well trained with or without weapons-and most ordinary guards and conscripts were of little challenge even without-there were larger, much worse things out there that being armed would be much more ideal for, and he wished to find a spot to conduct his forgemaster work again. Once created, Innocent Devils could be summoned forth from their otherworldly rift from anywhere, but creating them required more than a common room at an inn. Between them and his own fighting prowess he would be more than suited to face any giant, ravenous beast.His former master’s-no, he was still his master, he would be back-castle would be sufficient, but at this moment, he was not terribly close to it. It held all he would need, though...plus, he quite missed the place. He had come to think of it as home. It's vast size-it was bigger than any castle had a right to be-gloomy halls and decor suited Isaac quite nicely. He wanted to get re-acquainted with it again soon. He wanted a lot of things, but he would have to get things in order first. Pushing open the door-leaving the remains behind for someone else to perhaps find-he inhaled, looking around at the grim landscape and mentally trying to plan his attack. He would do a bit of searching, come back to examine what the books above held-he doubted anything of use-and then figure where to go from there.As he began to walk, his mind began replaying the events over and over. At first, he tried to stop it...but he allowed them to continue, as he felt almost better when he was being driven by the anger.
You will suffer, Hector. I will find you and you will suffer before I crush you, oh yes...