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Merci d'Rue · Babbling Loony Joined: 18 Jan 2006 Posts: 2810

Within a name lies freedom or hell. Mikhaeils was freedom. Merci's was hell. Yet it was her way to sacrifice herself for any kin.

And so Here she was..

Here was nothing, and nothing was here. In her dark moments she closed her eyes, refusing still to speak his name. In her suffering, between her pain, captivitation of the captive.

The daemons claws snaked about her wrist.. his nails bit into her flesh. He devoured her with his eyes and searched for her soul.

So the scenes played within her mind.

She walked the roads of umbra....

She shed blood upon the pit of the sepulcher...

She climbed the cold moutainside and reveled in its embrace...

She saw Myrddin crowned king...

She gave him the stone.

Fire danced around her, mocking her...

It was in these moments... she saw her life behind her. She saw her battle before her.
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May destiny guide you...

Apollyon · Visitor Joined: 11 Mar 2011 Posts: 2 Location: Hell

Masked. The succubus would be masked. Of course she would. Lying, cowardly wench!

Apollyon paced the cavernous expanse of infernal flames that quaked with his ominous footfalls. Chained to the wall, his new prize. A dismal replacement for what he had sought, and left without. But a replacement, nonetheless. The female was quiet, her eyes calculating as they watched his every move. Her midnight blue hair, gone violet in the crimson of firelight, hung in damp locks over her shoulders. He approached and stood before her as she pointedly ignored his gaze.

“So brave, so beautiful,” he cooed, lifting her chin delicately with a talon to look into her eyes. Then, through clenched teeth, “and so very stupid.” He released her chin roughly and continued pacing. “You are their oracle. You have a kingdom to protect, and yet you endanger yourself to protect thieves and snakes.”

The oracle remained silent, and the archdaemon’s accusations, unanswered. Her gaze averted, he found his new pet as masked as the vile serpent who had stolen what was his.

“Very well,” he hissed. “You take his place willingly, then.”

Shrieks and hisses from the corridor alerted both to the stealthy approach of a young succubus in chains carrying a deep purple satin pillow, upon which was nestled a garland of roses.

“It’s about time, ignorant wench,” he spat at the succubus as he lifted the wreath from its resting place carefully, then carried it with an air of reverence to the place where the Oracle’s confines held her shackled.

“A fitting crown for our new guest.” He smiled sardonically as he thrust the garland of roses upon her brow. The thorns tore at her flesh and blood trickled down from the lavish blooms, but only a gasp escaped the lips of the oracle.

Apollyon turned to the chained succubus behind him, grabbing her by the hair and shoving her face-down into the dust. “Show your new queen a little respect, harlot. Henceforth, you will crawl upon your belly when you enter this chamber. Now leave us. I have a thing or two to….discuss….with my new queen.”
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RAGE & fornication in the streets.
Show me your god & I'll show you mine.

Merci d'Rue · Babbling Loony Joined: 18 Jan 2006 Posts: 2810

Fire...

Heat....

Blood...so much blood.

The hand extended to her. Merci, Merci get up.

Your mine Merci. Now take my hand. She blinked. How was this possible.

Come ragdoll rise for me. You know you can not deny my command. I am your creator.

She took his hand, she could feel the corruptive energies of blackrock flowing thru her once more. He grasped her necklace and yanked her close. Strangling her with it, but only just...

She gasped... Toren?

Her eyes darkened. Her body shuddered. The stitches on her neck, arms, and legs seemed as if they would burst once more.

Who she was, quickly began to change. What she was, had become a mystery to even her. His breath was hot upon her neck and she felt the crown upon her head.

Daemon you trick me...

Apollyon laughed, the image of her creator melting away. The daemons claws still grasping her about the neck. Give in Merci, let go...

He stepped back and with a flourish of his hand pulled away a rough covering revealing a platform. Upon it, lay the corpse of Myrddin, dead. His hand still gripping his blade as if to hit his unknown foe one last time.

Its over Merci, your King is dead. All who attempt to take you will meet such.

Those words echoed in her head and anger pulsed thru her uncontrollaby. For once the Daemons domain felt a tinge of cold as she began to twist inside.

He stroked her hair and carelessly released her letting her fall endlessly....faces laughing at her and her sanity a thread left.

She twisted. A crack appeared in the Stone..

He smiled in the darkness.

Good, very good.

Yet somewhere in the distance, Merci could hear a flute playing... a gift given so long ago... pulsing thru the veils now. Perhaps all was not lost.
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May destiny guide you...

Apollyon · Visitor Joined: 11 Mar 2011 Posts: 2 Location: Hell

(Warning PG-13)

“Vile serpent!” The daemon threw the blue-haired oracle face down onto the ground, pressing his knee into her back as her chains reached their end. “Think you this is a game?” He laughed and pulled an ornate blade across the bare flesh of her back, carving an arcane symbol, then paused to admire his handiwork as the design oozed blood. If the woman screamed, he wouldn’t have noticed. His thoughts – and his senses – were focused upon Stonegate Valley.

“You should know that your precious clan gathers even as we speak, to come and retrieve their oracle. Tsk…so unnecessary. If they would but give parting word to the one I seek, they could have you. Or what’s left.” He backhanded her with a chuckle, a nonchalant action that slammed the oracle against the cavern wall like a ragdoll. “They who come willingly will join our…festivities.” Apollyon sneered and turned to the entrance at the sound of scraping on the cavern floor.

The chained succubus slave entered the room, crawling slowly through the dust. Blood trickled from her mouth and both eyes. Apollyon tilted his head and cooed softly to her. “Very good. You’re learning your place at last. Do you have something for me?”

“Aye, Sire,” the succubus said softly, her voice hoarse and trembling as she fumbled frantically to take an item from a pouch on her belt. “Aye, here…Please.”

Apollyon reached down as the succubus lifted a shaky hand above her head. He took a long silver spike with a jewel-encrusted pommel for a handle from the succubus and lifted it, admiring the craftsmanship by the light of the flames that enshrouded the room. “Excellent, my pet. You shall be well rewarded. What prize would you ask for such a treasure?”

The succubus looked up at Apollyon from her prostrate position, her pale eyes fearful and bewildered. “Wha--?”

“Yes, yes…out with it, wretch.”

The succubus tilted her head, attempting to look toward the oracle chained to the wall, and then lifted her gaze, careful to avoid eye contact with the daemon. “If you p-please, not to crawl anymore.”

“Oh, what a splendid idea, slave. Never shall you crawl again.” Without fanfare, he lifted a great cloven foot and stomped down heavily, crushing the the skull of the succubus. He lifted it again, shaking blood, bone, and brains from his hoof as the succubus tremored and convulsed in the dust. The woman chained to the wall screamed, and Apollyon turned.

“Do not fret, Queen. When I take Mikhaeil and his sword back into my possession, I have little doubt this wench’s replacement will wander into my lair of her own accord.” He looked back at the form of the succubus, her head crushed, her twitching slowed. “But that one will only wish for such an easy death."

Apollyon smirked as he opened his hand and examined the spike lying across his palm. "Now tell me, Queen. Is it true what they say about silver and your kind?"
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RAGE & fornication in the streets.
Show me your god & I'll show you mine.

Merci d'Rue · Babbling Loony Joined: 18 Jan 2006 Posts: 2810

As the silver weapon came softly towards her, she uttered softly into the darkness...

Only the Strong Survive...

The Stone pulsed.
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May destiny guide you...

Mikhaeil · Adventurer Joined: 01 Jan 2011 Posts: 57 Location: Fallen

Mikhaeil pressed his head to the wall, his wings folded close and bloodied. An anguished cry threatened escape before finding strength toward muted silence as the daemon's blade carved its arcane mark into his flesh. Every violation Apollyon played upon the oracle found its way to his true target of intent.

Mikhaeil · Adventurer Joined: 01 Jan 2011 Posts: 57 Location: Fallen

You dare send another with your sword in hand?

Though the words were unspoken, they blazed through the angel's soul white hot and scorching.

Die with your savior then as you wish, Fallen! Far be it from me to keep you from martyrdom.

Mikhaeil writhed in agony, the chains binding him to the ludus cell wall his only saving grace from collapse to the floor.