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PostPosted: Jun 14th, '10, 03:20 
Twilight Council
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Joined: Nov 13th, '06, 13:41
Posts: 1249
Location: In ur base killin ur doods.
Chained there in spell retardant embraces, the archmage Mortanis was dragged through the hells, emitting sparks as his mind will spells into effect which are torn asunder and thrown harmlessly to the wind, burning holes in his robes and skin as the negative sparks land upon him. The four that had took him were relentless in their taunting, their pace constant until the vissage of the second hell reached their eyes, flesh rending rape evidently causing a spark of imagination to rise in their minds. The stronger willed of the four urged them forth to a fortress wherein a portal awaited. A portal to Dis itself.

The tower stood strong before him as he was dragged through the streets; its presence an untimely reminder of what had come and passed. The gates opened with their usual grind, a sound that he had done his best to forget. Within, licks of lava spat high into the air, the threat of devils lurched around every corner, and simple poles stood with prisoners strapped, beaten by the lesser creatures. It would seem it was not his to attend to such things. instead, through the cobblestone tower he was lugged, through the prisons and cells to the throne, upon which a familiar face sat and watched as the mage was strapped to a pillar of stone most gargantuan in its size.

The four wenches left, and the duke did stand. From the side of his chair pulling a whip crafted of fire and little more. The tongue snaked across the ground as he approached, and with his presence no more than a few feet behind the mortal, he stopped, preaching his dominion to him as time and time again, the whip lashed over flesh, seering skin and muscle alike, the blood of the tainted one spilling over his shoulders towards the ground, a ritual so proudly boasted to improve his potency seemed useless.

"I'll t-teach you to disobey! No one c-can escape these walls!"
The fiends voice and whip alike brought the mage to tence and grip at the wall, a pain in his form that any mere man would cave to. His voice in turn retorting to the tone of the fiend. "Left.. Left a bit, i've an itch, just there, on the shoulder." His taunts met the ears of the fiend, and again did he continue to strike, the relentless tone further weakening the mage, who's legs gave out before him, chest pressing heavily into the rock pillar and yet, a laughter bellowed from his lips "Yes!! Yes!! Now everyone will know that you died scratching my itch!!"

A fiendish hand reached for the lengthy hair and pulled it back that he might address the mage in a more personal manner. "-I- died?" he spoke through gritted teeth. "You didn't think I'd come here without a plan, did you?" The mage spoke in return, his chest heaving with the signs of fatigue, and with one moment passing the archduke released him, bantering as he did in his retreat about how nothing could penetrate the walls of the tower. The pain of grevious wound brought a dillusion to the mages mind; that of iron which had never faltered, that unwavering, inpenetrable fortress finally crushed. A voice. Her voice... His arm did span to the side as he heard her call his name, speaking through the gargle of blood in his throat. "Hark... the angels sing..."

"There is only one angel for you, Keldrin Mortanis." One? Perhaps.. but even still a figure of feathered wings appeared before him, speaking to him. "Salvation is offered to all who ask..." It said, the dillusional mages finger tips sweeping as best they could to rest upon the angels cheek. "Loooook... So beautiful...." The chorus sounds again, as a vision of her is shown to the mage, something which catches his eye, causing a beaten mind to tilt. "Hell is what you make of it. Only the pain is real, If you succome to him you will be nothing." These words floated in his mind and with them he found the courage, the strength to rise up the pillar and stand presented, the wounds, oddly, gone.

Bellowing above the voice of the chattering duke Keldrin called the next. "Again. The spiked chains this time. Assuming you are not without spiked chains, so called Duke of Hell." Dispater sneared and returned, pausing on the spot as he regarded the lack of wounds. "Wh-What the?!... I will return..." And with his words he did leave, gone for the time, though not without being chased by keldrins voice. "Nnnh... I cannot say that I am accepting of this hospitality!!" His thoughts plagued him; what had that winged thing been? What did it mean? It mattered not; he knew an angel did come, and that alone yearned him to continue, his fortitude restored.

A second voice filled the air, a male who spoke of many things but did not show his face until beckoned by the mage. The archmage of the realm; his form projected through astral reasoning to stand along side the pole to which he was tied. They spoke; banter at first but soon it turned to a more dire. He spoke of his father and his mother, asked him of what he know, and he did tell of his fathers cruelty and his mothers death. He asked of why the devils sought so hard to keep the man in hell. He did not know. He asked of his blood. It could not be of draconic nature. He bore no scales. It could not be devilish; he cast no flame. He left the others be, alone without mention. He asked a final question. What was it that they bore; those fateful nine, that he did not. "Faith?"

Both the apparition of the winged creature and the archmage spoke in unison, though neither knew of the others presence "Faith." "Faith? Yes! that is all you need! It will be given to you, if you ask for it!" His mind spun with the curious riddles, his human mind far from wise, though he seemed to understand. The two dissapeared, his questions further voiced but not answered. Something huge approached from behind, its hulking form casting a devilish shadow. It spoke a name, a taunt, and pulled a weapon from its belt built perfectly for torture.

".. do me one favour, fiend." The mage spoke, resting his forehead against the pillar." "I heard you like it roug-- A favour?" "... Keep your putrid breath away from me whilst you work. It could gag a maggot." The fiend swept its ugly face before Keldrin, grinning, white maggots squirming through his teeth. "that it could... But these ones seem to like it."


The massive fiend brought its weapon down upon his back, severing, cleaving to the bone and further, its massive weapon knocking him from his feet. The strength of his arms clung to the binds, and his will alone pulled him back into position, another vissage appearing to his clear mind. It spoke of his mother, of angels and of him, and his righteous bloodline; the path he had taken being wrong, and the chance of redemption. Words that barely skimmed the pain stricken mage. "You have chosen a perfect time to tell me this information..."

As the devil prepared for a second strike the strange angel replied. "You were undeserving of the information then. Your persistence has brought you to be what you are now. What are you waiting for? Break the chains and slaughter it!" The creatures weapon once again tore to the bone as it struck across his back, the spinal chord on show as he once more falls to his knees, hanging in the chains that held him. Once more did he push up from the ground, slumped against the pillar, speaking to this apparition that had approached him. "Who are you?"

The creature gave his name, a title and a place which all floated over his head, but he mentioned her.. Her, who suffered for him before. A wave of his hands showed an image of the one angel for him; there, where she stood. His eyes shimmered with a light sense of curiosity as he watched the image swirling before him, the words the angel repeated sinking into his mind one last time. "All you have to do is ask..."

And then he was gone, the devil bored of the lack of fortitude in a mortal man, cast the weapon aside and took to his claw instead. "Pathetic creature... Perhaps i'll break your neck and start afresh tomorrow." A moment of contemplation followed, and with it gone the claw rose up, and swept for his neck. The mans life flashed before his eyes in the infinite moments before it landed upon his fragile form. Images of Galiae and Anni, images of him and Galiae, his past, perhaps even his long dead mother...

"...I don't know why ya bother weet hem Gally. He's a palemaster!"
"... I believe in him, Anni."

Careful consideration took to his mind in his last few moments, and through a hushed voice did he whisper to the world.

"She suffers for my sins..."
"... Take them... Take them!"


**To be refined and continued! Only so much could be said without spoiling next week**

_________________
Never under estimate the power that language imparts. Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words can break hearts.

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