08-08-2013, 07:00 AM
Michael had never had to torture anyone before, monster or otherwise. He had never even seen it done, but he had time, tucked away in a room that hadn't been used in years.
So far, he proved to be miserable at it.
The thing thrashed and screamed - until Michael tore some cloth from the thing's pants and stuffed it in it's mouth - but it was resistant, or stupid - or both.
Whatever it was, it was not talking. Michael wracked his brain while he let his weave of Spirt and Fire burn the monster's extremities.
It was the first thing that came to mind. He did not want to accidentally kill the thing by pushing too hard. He had learned the lesson of control all too well, and he would not break it now.
It was disconcerting to think of the best way to hurt someone. He could plan out the battle of Gaugamela in a way that would put Alexander to shame, but hurting... that was a different prospect.
Frustrated, he double checked that the bindings of Air were perfect and released the weave of burning. Approaching the monster which floated upside down in mid-air, it's head placed at Michael's eye level, he ripped the cloth from it's mouth.
It let out a ragged moan, but little else.
"Would you like to say anything to me?"
he asked.
"Fuck you,"
it replied.
Walked into that one, I suppose.
He was careful to remove any trace of emotion from his voice or face. "It will only get worse as you resist. Surely you would want to end the pain. A few simple words could do that."
It tried to spit in his face, but it's mouth was dry. Michael had managed to drain just enough fluid to make it thirsty. "I don't know who or what the fuck you are, but I will die before telling you anything."
It was impressive, if nothing else.
"Don't worry about that. I won't let you die so easily," he replied with a tight smile. "I have many, many games we could play. Like this -" he wove a net of Fire, Earth and Air - something he could not quite recall learning - and muffled the agonized screech of pain with a flow of Air.
He could not be sure, but his memory told him that the complex net was slowly turning the blood in it's hand into something akin to lava, molten chunks of burning blood and tissue.
He allowed the weave to continue - he could see the hand turning red, brown and black in turn - until the thing sagged into unconsciousness.
He allowed it no rest after the weave was release, pressing a sliver of Spirit and Fire against it's brain. It jolted awake with wide-terrified eyes, it almost looked human.
Best not to think of that. Focus.
"I will kill you!"
it hissed in pain and rage. "Just like the damn girl!"
With a cold anger he seized the thing with his own hands, "Tell me what happened to her! Did you kill her you bastard!?"
Despite the waves of pain Michael sent through it's body, the monster smiled at him. "She's not dead. Yet. We like to keep our food fresh."
Anger escalated to rage and Michael took a step back, weaving razor thin threads of Air which dug deep furrows into the skin.
He let it howl without restraint for a while as it's blood trickled down to the floor before halting and weaving identical threads, but of Fire this time.
It howled no less as the cuts were cauterized than it did when they were made.
"Talk. Now."
He could not say any more without releasing a torrent of frustrated fury.
It didn't smile this time, but the words were taunting. "We had a bet between us, me and my comrades. We wanted to know if someone could hear without their ears. It seems they can. She cries every time she hears one of us coming."
Enough.
Michael acted on pure instinct, he rage let loose. He seized as much of the power as he could, ecstasy mingled with white-hot needles of pain.
He could not follow what he wove, something of all Five of the powers. The thing's scream was silent, a note above hearing as the weave settled and Michael ripped free every single vein in it's left arm.
Blood poured down to the ground like raindrops, the exposed veins hanging like leaves off a tree from the thing's limp arm.
Michael took an involuntary step back, his rage extinguished, hand going to his mouth. He wanted to vomit, but he managed a semblance of control, if only for Katalina's sake.
Still alive.
He wove, numb with shock. With Fire he sliced the dead arm from the creature's body, the wounded instantly burned to a charred stump.
It took a moment for Michael to compose himself enough to speak. "Now, I will ask you once more. Where is she?"
The creature stared at it's arm on the floor in a puddle of blood, then back to Michael and croaked one word. "...Okay..."
He spent no time regretting his actions. That could come later. For now, he had to save Katalina.
Continued in: Shh.....We are Wabbits, eh Rougarou
Edited by Michael Vellas, Aug 14 2013, 03:34 AM.
So far, he proved to be miserable at it.
The thing thrashed and screamed - until Michael tore some cloth from the thing's pants and stuffed it in it's mouth - but it was resistant, or stupid - or both.
Whatever it was, it was not talking. Michael wracked his brain while he let his weave of Spirt and Fire burn the monster's extremities.
It was the first thing that came to mind. He did not want to accidentally kill the thing by pushing too hard. He had learned the lesson of control all too well, and he would not break it now.
It was disconcerting to think of the best way to hurt someone. He could plan out the battle of Gaugamela in a way that would put Alexander to shame, but hurting... that was a different prospect.
Frustrated, he double checked that the bindings of Air were perfect and released the weave of burning. Approaching the monster which floated upside down in mid-air, it's head placed at Michael's eye level, he ripped the cloth from it's mouth.
It let out a ragged moan, but little else.
"Would you like to say anything to me?"
he asked.
"Fuck you,"
it replied.
Walked into that one, I suppose.
He was careful to remove any trace of emotion from his voice or face. "It will only get worse as you resist. Surely you would want to end the pain. A few simple words could do that."
It tried to spit in his face, but it's mouth was dry. Michael had managed to drain just enough fluid to make it thirsty. "I don't know who or what the fuck you are, but I will die before telling you anything."
It was impressive, if nothing else.
"Don't worry about that. I won't let you die so easily," he replied with a tight smile. "I have many, many games we could play. Like this -" he wove a net of Fire, Earth and Air - something he could not quite recall learning - and muffled the agonized screech of pain with a flow of Air.
He could not be sure, but his memory told him that the complex net was slowly turning the blood in it's hand into something akin to lava, molten chunks of burning blood and tissue.
He allowed the weave to continue - he could see the hand turning red, brown and black in turn - until the thing sagged into unconsciousness.
He allowed it no rest after the weave was release, pressing a sliver of Spirit and Fire against it's brain. It jolted awake with wide-terrified eyes, it almost looked human.
Best not to think of that. Focus.
"I will kill you!"
it hissed in pain and rage. "Just like the damn girl!"
With a cold anger he seized the thing with his own hands, "Tell me what happened to her! Did you kill her you bastard!?"
Despite the waves of pain Michael sent through it's body, the monster smiled at him. "She's not dead. Yet. We like to keep our food fresh."
Anger escalated to rage and Michael took a step back, weaving razor thin threads of Air which dug deep furrows into the skin.
He let it howl without restraint for a while as it's blood trickled down to the floor before halting and weaving identical threads, but of Fire this time.
It howled no less as the cuts were cauterized than it did when they were made.
"Talk. Now."
He could not say any more without releasing a torrent of frustrated fury.
It didn't smile this time, but the words were taunting. "We had a bet between us, me and my comrades. We wanted to know if someone could hear without their ears. It seems they can. She cries every time she hears one of us coming."
Enough.
Michael acted on pure instinct, he rage let loose. He seized as much of the power as he could, ecstasy mingled with white-hot needles of pain.
He could not follow what he wove, something of all Five of the powers. The thing's scream was silent, a note above hearing as the weave settled and Michael ripped free every single vein in it's left arm.
Blood poured down to the ground like raindrops, the exposed veins hanging like leaves off a tree from the thing's limp arm.
Michael took an involuntary step back, his rage extinguished, hand going to his mouth. He wanted to vomit, but he managed a semblance of control, if only for Katalina's sake.
Still alive.
He wove, numb with shock. With Fire he sliced the dead arm from the creature's body, the wounded instantly burned to a charred stump.
It took a moment for Michael to compose himself enough to speak. "Now, I will ask you once more. Where is she?"
The creature stared at it's arm on the floor in a puddle of blood, then back to Michael and croaked one word. "...Okay..."
He spent no time regretting his actions. That could come later. For now, he had to save Katalina.
Continued in: Shh.....We are Wabbits, eh Rougarou
Edited by Michael Vellas, Aug 14 2013, 03:34 AM.
"She saw a flaring halo around his head, radiant in gold and blue. It shouted of glory and power to come"
"No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it."