Topic: The Corruption Hidden Beneath the Surface...
Subject: Gratuitous
After Davena leaves the room, ghoul in tow, the odious Brother Hagan moves to Kithran's bed. As instructed, he begins to tend to the rogue's ruined feet... but any observer could plainly discern that there is likely no need for him to reposition them so as to splay Kith's legs open wide. He takes several long moments to openly leer at her exposed body, though the pain Kith is in likely makes this secondary in concern. If anything, it is the time he wastes in his leering that is most concerning to the struggling thief.
Eventually, he chants over one foot, causing that unsettling feeling of the grave to seep into Kithran's body. Mercifully, however, the healing does take place; flesh and skin are miraculously knit back together, and the pain ceases. Hagan drinks in another long look before chanting over the second foot, with similar results.
Sometime during the healing of the second foot, Kith realizes that the paralysis is wearing off and the ability to move again is returning.
The priest sighs and speaks. "It's a shame that you have to be saved for the likes of the ghouls, but it is the Dark One's will, I suppose." He then retrieves the folded gown and offers it to Kithran.
With a lascivious smirk, he offers, "If you are too weak, I can help you put it on, if you like."
Kithran doesn’t reach for the gown at first, too distracted by the horror of what her body had just gone through. It seems mad that she had just felt so much pain, so much more than she had ever dreamed was possible, and in the span of just a few minutes it is all gone. She gingerly raises herself up into a seated position, testing how her body feels, ignoring the man so giddy to touch her.
She felt the side of her stomach and flexed her feet. They felt perfect. The realization was revitalizing. Perhaps she was going mad, but she would have to think about that later.
Kith turned to the brother and smiled, “Hagan, no, I don’t think I will need you to put that on me quite yet, but I do have a question I’m hoping you can help me with?” She turns so that her legs are off the bed, one on either side of the lech, “The priestess says that I belong to the Dark Lord and to her, but are you not of the Dark Lord yourself, Brother Hagan?” She leans back on her hands, as though an offering to him, “Am I not yours as well?”
Before he can react, Kithran brings up her perfectly healed foot and jams it into his crotch, leaping up to shove him aside, and sprints for the door.
Hagan staggers back from the groin kick, doubled halfway over in pain. Heedless of her nudity, Kithran rushes for the door, reaches for the handle...
...almost makes it.
"Halt!" Hagan cries out. In unbelievable frustration, Kith realizes that once again, the priest's dark god has given him dominion over her very body, for she is frozen in mid stride, her hand agonizing inches from the door.
"You filthy little bitch!" he hisses as he moves directly in front of the rogue. His face is purple with rage. "I'll teach you some manners now," he growls.
Brother Hagan is a fairly large man. His robes do not show it, but his muscles are well defined; the man grew up as a laborer, and is rather strong. With a sneer, he rears back and drives his fist as hard as he can into Kithran's side. The force of the blow sends her flying back into a pile on the ground; the sudden sharp pain and snapping sensation give no doubt that he cracked a rib or two in the process.
Before she can react, the death priest is on top of Kith. She wriggles, twists, claws, kicks... but the larger man rains blows down upon her face, head, and body. She brings her arms up to try to block her face and ease the blows to her side, but his unrelenting attack wears her down far more quickly than it does him, and she begins to waver.
"No need to waste a hold spell on the likes of you, little vixen," he chuckles evily as Kith's strength begins to fade from the combination of his weight and the damage he has inflicted upon her. "Besides, I enjoy a little spirit in a woman," he grins as he dabs at the corner of his bleeding lip.
“Go fuck yourself!” she rages and tries to strike once more at his crotch but he is ready for her this time.
His grip changes, and the rogue realizes that he has pinned her wrists. He reaches beneath his belt, tries to work between her thighs... Kithran rolls her hips, thrashes, struggles, only to earn an elbow to her broken ribs and a punch to the face for her troubles, and there is too much pain now to threaten him with a Kazari’s maw.
"Yes," he oozes. "Fight me. Don't give up yet, it makes it so much sweeter." And she wants to fight, but his last strike to her shattered ribs and her face has rendered her unable to do much more than stop herself from choking on her own blood and bile.
His knees are between Kithran's thighs now, the smaller woman has lost the ability to keep him back. "Aw, don't cry," he taunts with a smirk and she spits in his face. "This'll give you something nice to think of while the ghouls are having their way with you." In despair, she can feel something firm and fleshy probing, seeking, almost there...
"You will stop this at once!" a voice of crystallized authority calls out from behind him.
The leering face blanches. "Mistress!" he sputters. "She was trying to escape! I... you see, I..."
Davena, flanked by a different ghoul, cuts Hagan off as the man leaps up, fumbles with trying to hide himself back inside the robes. The priestess' face is a mask of cold fury as her gaze alternates between the dark-robed man and the naked, battered woman lying on the ground.
A perfectly maintained eyebrow arches questioningly. "You prevented her escape by beating and raping the prisoner?" Davena asks acidly. She does not give him a chance to respond, and Hagan sputters for a moment before falling silent.
"Kithran," Davena speaks evenly as her gaze shifts down. "Is his claim true? Did you try to escape?" she asks.
Kithran rolls on to her side, grasping lightly at her broken rib and immediately wincing at the pain. She tries to push herself back up into a sitting position, but is only able to get about halfway with what is left of her strength and consciousness. It is enough for her to spit blood at Davena in reply, and half-heartedly smirk in pain as she slips back down to the ground.
The blonde woman's lips draw up into a tight, sorrowful frown, and her head droops slightly at Kithran's answer. "I was afraid of as much, child," she replies in a tone that passes for actual remorse. She kneels by Kithran's side, chants lowly, and the feeling of borrowing time from the grave floods the rogue's body, giving ease to the pain in her side, in her head. It is not enough to remove every ache, but Kithran finds that she feels drastically better.
"Your spirit is admirable, Kithran," Davena speaks, "but your actions are terribly misguided. I have no choice but to punish you, darling… it truly pains me to do so." Kith attempts to mutter at her to stop using that moniker, but despite how much better she feels, as well as Davena’s threats, a weariness begins to fall upon her. Then, with a subtle gesture from the priestess, the new ghoul leaps forward, rakes its claws across Kith's leg... and once again, the rogue is paralyzed.
The priestess glances at Brother Hagan; the large man appears fully cowed. "Brother Hagan," she speaks in a tone of frost, "I told you that if you sullied her in any manner, that you would beg for death."
His eyes form wide in terror. "Please, Mistress!" he implores, falling down and pressing his forehead to the ground. "I am sorry! Please, Mistress, have mercy! Slay me now!"
Davena's mouth is tight with disapproval. "Silence, worm. You know of the pain to come, and hope to avoid it... but this is not true begging." She pauses for a long moment. "That will come, unfaithful one. It will come. For the moment, stay exactly there and I might consider a lesser punishment. If you so much as flinch..." the threat is left unspoken, but palpable.
Davena returns her focus to Kithran as she draws her shiny, broad bladed knife and kneels by the naked woman's side. "Dear one," she speaks softly, her voice full of emotion, "I want the best for you, I truly do. But there are boundaries that must be respected. Trust that must be earned. And every opportunity I give you for trust, it seems, you spit upon it."
She places a hand on the rogue's belly, traces a fingertip to Kith's navel, then down and to the side. "Now darling, understand," Davena says, "this will hurt quite a bit. I pray that through this pain, you will begin to truly understand the folly of your actions. I can offer you so very much, if you will simply accept the gifts. But as long as you continue to fight against what is right and necessary, I will be forced to punish you."
With all that has happened, Kithran can hardly rage against her even in her mind anymore. She would like to fight; would like to move, to scream, but the exhaust mixed with the all-too familiar paralysis is so much that even that unknown knife Davena brandishes with such remorseful fervor does little to spark the fear she had entreated earlier.
The priestess leans forward, plants a soft kiss on Kithran's forehead, and makes a soft, sorrowful smile. After a long moment's pause where she holds deep eye contact with her prone victim, she drives the blade into the rogue's lower abdomen.
Kithran's exhaust vanishes as incredible, unthinkable, unbearable pain floods her consciousness, only to somehow be further amplified as the Mistress of Death twists the wide blade inside of the rogue's body. The knife is then withdrawn slowly, tearing and mutilating flesh further as it forges a new exit path.
Kith is barely able to register the alarming amount of blood flooding up through the hole in her belly, such is the bounding pain. Davena, on the other hand, is utterly calm... and somehow, every word that she speaks is clearly heard and understood by the bleeding woman.
"Kithran, you see," Davena speaks as if discussing the finer points of a ballroom dance, "I have a great deal of education on the inner workings of the body. I have learned, for instance, exactly where I can cut without causing immediate death. Oh, if your wound were untreated, it might well lead to your demise... but you are strong. You would fight it for some time."
With the pause, she drives the knife into Kith's abdomen on the opposite side. Not quite as deep this time, but still excruciatingly painful. She then continues speaking. "There are actually few places one can stab without nicking some organ or another, but gut stabs are still very unpleasant, wouldn't you agree?"
Kithran can’t move, can’t scream, can’t flee this life, her consciousness, or the unrelenting sound of Davena speaking into her thoughts. She cannot even beg her with all that she had and was for her to stop; though she wishes to all of the gods that had long forsaken her, and the Kazari god she graciously forsook in this moment, for just one second to plead to the priestess for mercy.
The knife is withdrawn - this time, thankfully, without the twist. Kith can feel her eyes roll back in her head, but something is denying her the solace of unconsciousness. Davena's expression is sorrowful. "No, child... you may not faint," she states. "I am so very sorry, but you need this pain to help you truly learn your lesson this time."
The knife is wiped clean, then sheathed. Davena's eyes are almost pleading. "Darling… please.”
Please stop calling me that, she cries silently to herself, as Tara grins at her in the streets of Calestra.
“Let go of your stubbornness and learn." Davena then forces two fingers into each wound, twisting and tearing the flesh inside, causing blinding waves of pain to rack Kithran's body on and on and on...
Posted on 2019-11-04 at 20:38:21.
Edited on 2019-11-05 at 09:28:17 by breebles
|
What game do you own the 
Return to Charadun - Q&A
The Morphing Game
Return to Charadun - Recr
