WriterOfSin
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This is a sequel to my previous work, 'An Angel's Downfall', located here; http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?219086-Angel-s-Downfall-(Darksiders-M-F)
As I said on DA, anyone who is willing to venture as to who the Excruciator is, feel free to either PM me or post below.
The sky was dark now, a grey haze of ash blown by the wind as the sun set. Uriel could hear the sound of Ruin's hooves as he galloped off, the shame of how he had overcome her still hot in her heart. She reached for the boots he had left discarded, gently shrugging them on to avoid too much pressure on her now aching feet. She rolled over and grabbed a nearby length of knee-high debris to steady herself as she got up. Her wings wafted in the breeze as her other hand reached out and grasped the blade of her sword, stretching her limbs as she stood. She looked darkly in the direction that he had gone; knowing that as much as she wanted to, to strike him down after she'd agreed to break the Nex Sacrementum would be something that not even the Charred Council would stand for. And, she realised, she hadn't being able to take him before. Doing it after hours of his torture, for that was what it was to her, would be impossible, and she had no desire to let it happen again.
A howl broke the silence behind her, startling her into action. She stared into the dust, unable to see the cause of the noise. Then, the ground shook and the dust parted, like a wave breaking upon a ship's bow. She cursed softly at the thing. "A Tremor," she breathed, her sword up in an instant ready to defend herself. A pack of daemons surrounded it, a garish ensemble of different skin colours in contrast to the Tremor's tanned hide. It roared again, spittle flying from its fanged jaw, pounding the ground with its fearsome claws. Each one was half her height alone and Uriel knew from experience how easily those things had torn through the armour of even the best Hellguard in the war of the Third Kingdom.
She took a step back, the golden heel of her boot digging into the ground. This would have to be carefully done...the Tremor pounced, a swift motion for something as obscenely large as that. Just as it began to descend upon her, she leapt up, sword held before her like a spear point. The point burst through its forehead, the blade carrying on to split the daemons brain and upper skull in two as her motion combined with the creature's own to make its own demise. Her wings beat savagely to carry her over its corpse as it ploughed into the ground, furrowing the dust. Uriel dropped onto the ground, a cold smile on her lips as she gazed at the smaller daemons that remained.
They howled in reply, charging at her with one of them, an armoured brute clenching a heavy mace leading them. She ducked under one clumsy swing, her own blade cutting through its knee in a clean blow before her return sliced through its meaty neck. The stench of its blood filled the air as she turned, gutting another daemon, and then cutting another in half diagonally. The last one managed to block her sword, locking it against his crude axe as they strained for the advantage. Suddenly it lunged forward, its scaled head crashing into hers as it butted her away. As she collapsed onto the ground she kicked furiously, a blow that sent the daemon warrior up into the air before it crashed onto the ground, undoubtedly dead. Uriel panted heavily. To face such foes after what War had done to her left her amazed she'd been able to survive the brief onslaught.
Her eyes opened as she heard the unmistakable growl of a Tremor, a deep basso tone in contrast to their usual high-pitched roar, and her head snapped to her right as she stared at what had been a dead Tremor, The abomination was on all fours, its open skull leaking gore and blood as it sniffed the air. Impossible, she thought in shock. Surely nothing could survive the wounds done to it. Then it roared, foul breath hazing the air as it rushed at her. She rolled upwards into a crouch, her blade scything overhead before cleaving deeply into the flesh of its trunk-like arm. Its other hand crashed round, battering her away while the talons scored through her armour, gashing her dusky skin.
One mailed fist thumped into the Tremor's eye in response, the sheer force bursting it in a gout of ichor. Flipping over and back in the air, her boots met its head, cracking the already-mortal wound further open. It roared again, claws tearing through the air as it tried to see, its only eye blinded by the stream of crimson blood leaking from the Tremor's forehead. She gripped her blade's handle, ripping it out and plunging it into the creature's thrice-damned heart. It crashed onto its side, and the Archangel swung her sword through its neck in one titanic blow to make sure it never got up again. Her arms fell to her sides as the effort she'd put into the fight took its toll on her. Even the immortal warriors of Heaven were not immune to such minor concerns as rest. She rolled her head, wishing that the tension in it would go away before she realised that something was amiss. Along with the Tremor, there had been a pack of four daemons, the Destroyer's vaunted 'Phantom Guard', a pale mockery of the Hellguard.
There were only three lying dead on the ground, with the one she'd kicked missing. She was sure that it had killed it. It was cunning, for such a bloodthirsty beast. She swung around, her blade deflecting the daemon's axe to the side before she swung back to cleave its head in two. The blow was arrested as the thing grabbed her arm, turning and throwing her overhead like a bolas thrower that she'd seen one insignificant little tribe of humans use a few millennia past. She sailed through the air, crashing headfirst into a crumbled stone pillar. Just as her eyes closed and she drifted into the void of unconsciousness, the last thing she saw was the creature step towards her.
"Wake up, Angel..." a voice cooed. Uriel's eyes opened, her vision unclear as her head still throbbed from the pain of hitting the ruin. She looked round, trying to move her arms, but they remained upright above her, encased in spiked black iron chains. Her legs were left free, dangling in the air as she was suspended above the floor. Most of the chamber she was in lay in shadow, with only a single brazier, burning a green fire to light it. "I'm glad you're awake," the other purred in a voice like silk on skin. She could make out the speaker's silhouette in the darkness, a slight figure. He, for that voice was surely a male's, walked forwards, the sound of cloven hooves on stone echoing through the chamber. His dark purple hide was scaled, and his two muscled arms ended in short talons, flexing them as he walked. His head was crested with an obscene crown of horns. "What are you?" she spat at him.
The creature smiled, revealing sharp black teeth with a flickering forked tongue, and bowed ironically. "My name is meaningless to me and my master, though you would recognise it, Uriel." He began to circle her like a predator around its prey, one hand caressing her torso. She looked down, seeing that the gashes left by the Tremor had been bandaged, doubtless by this creature that had her in his power. No ordinary daemon would have left her alive. Her thoughts were interrupted as the daemon spoke again, "Though it does not matter, since what I do is how I am known, angel of Heaven." He was in front of her now, one clawed hand grasping her chin as he stared into her fiery eyes. "I am the Excruciator."
He let go, turning away as he strode off to a large table. Uriel could see him pluck something off it before he returned and brandished the blade. "I cause pain, Archangel. I am the essence of that word and all it conveys. And now you're here...I'll teach it to you." He growled in pleasure, before slicing it along her cheek. That was the start of the torment for Uriel.
For days, she had rested within the walls of the dungeon, her prison, it seemed, for as long as it took until the Excruciator would kill her and finally let her rest. Every delicate cut, every slight slice had set her skin on fire with waves of agony, and as much as she cried out in pain, she never once begged for mercy. Part of that was because she could expect none from such a fiendish creature, and the other was the satisfaction it gave her in seeing him frustrated. He had not let up even once, using that knife, subtle potions, spells of immense power in their capacity to cause pain, anything at his disposal, and he had failed to break her.
The brazen brass door swung open to admit her torturer. "How are we today, Uriel? I hope your wounds aren't too painful?" She cursed him in return, damning him and his master. "I see that they must be hurting then," he smiled deeply. One hand extended to her, containing a glass vial. "Within this, lies a cure to remedy your pain."
She smirked back, "I'll accept it. Means you have more time to fail in your purpose yet again, Excruciator."
The daemon snarled for a moment before his face smoothed back into a perverted smile. "Very well." He unstoppered it, lifting it to her lips and letting her drink it. The whole vial was emptied as he tilted it for her. Uriel felt the dim fire that had been with her since the start of her 'visit' here lift away. "Of course," smirked the daemon, "that potion has some...side-effects."
She laughed in his face. "Haven't you tried poisoning me already?"
"Not that kind," he carried on. "The side effects of the Abstergo Morsus are nothing compared to the agonies of my other creations. Rather, it enhances the sensitivity of the drinker."
She stared at him, before he reached into his robes, pulling a small orb out. Holding it in between them, he murmured an incantation. To Uriel, it was as if the room around them had suddenly changed from a black dungeon in the lair of the daemons to the wide open expanse of the Ashlands. "I recognise this place..." her voice trailed off as she realised what she was about to see. Two figures could be seen in the distance, near a pile of ruins. One of them was the Horseman, and she realised with a sick feeling what the Excruciator had found out. Suddenly, howls of laughter split the air and the figure besides War's crouching form tried to escape. The Excruciator, behind her now, rested his mouth next to her ear and whispered gently. "Now, the real torment begins, angel." With a crack the illusion dissipated, collapsing into a wisp of fog that evaporated into the crystal. Circling in front of her, the daemon cackled, before he slapped her, and she saw only black.
She awoke, not knowing how long she had been out for. Now she lay pinioned on a table, her wrists chained above her again while her legs were stretched out. Doubtless he had done it to avoid her struggling and escaping. He stepped out of the shadows, eyes bright as he eyed her even more vulnerable form. "Shall we...begin?" Without letting her reply, he positioned himself at the bottom of the table, the same one on which he had kept his instruments she noticed. His clawed hands reached out, grasping each of her boots before pulling them off. He stooped in closely to her feet, examining them as if to decide what he would do. She still wore the same stockings as when War had defeated her, with not a mark or stain of dirt upon them thanks to the unnatural the Creator had gifted the Angels to remain cleansed of any impurities. Gently grasping them apart from the skin of her feet, the daemon slowly, delightedly pulled them off, making sure Uriel realised her complete vulnerability.
"Would you like me to continue, or shall I accept your inevitable admission of defeat before I humble you, Angel?" he leered. She glared at him in reply, before her face cracked into a smile and she bucked her leg as he delicately traced a talon on her now bare sole. He did it again, this time with a talon on both soles, and was rewarded with a screech of laughter. He carried on, tracing them over and over, occasionally using more of his short talons. She laughed constantly, howling "Stoopppp! Pleaseeeee!"
The Excruciator only smiled in reply, sliding it between her toes one at a time.
He carried on for hours with that, a simple torment that felt worse to Uriel than any of his blades or magicks. Then he knelt, his face gazing at her in between her feet, his lecherous grin showing his enjoyment at how quickly she'd started to break. One of his hands grasped her left foot, the purple hue of his hide contrasting the dusky tone of her skin as he pulled her toes back tightly. The other hand reached out, prickling the skin of her taut toes as the daemon dug deep, eliciting the sound of hoarse laughter from the fatigued angel. "Please," she begged, desperate for him to stop.
Incredibly, she felt him withdraw the probing fingers. She tried to look to see what had happened, but her face contorted into a scream as her laugh filled the air once more. The Excruciator slowly slid his forked tongue around her toes, switching to her soles before he began to suckle each vulnerable toe. "I always take great pleasure in my work, archangel," he murmured, "and this time is no exception." He left no part untouched by the softness of his tongue, even making Uriel laugh as he slid it over the top of her foot.
Eventually he tired of this sport. "Goodnight angel," he called in a sing-song voice as the iron door swung shut behind him. Through the night she slept, surrounded by dreams so vivid she felt them real, the first time she had dreamt of anything during her imprisonment. She dreamt she was taken out of her cell, led into the depths of the Ashlands and dumped like waste by her captors. Closing her eyes wistfully, she doubted that this bastard Excruciator would ever let her go, and drifted into sleep.
She woke with a start, rubbing tired hands over her face before sitting upright. Then she remembered. Her hands were free! Impossible, surely she was still chained to the table she thought, but she looked around and realised where she was. The dusty wastes of the Ashlands was all she could see around her for leagues on end. Her boots had gone, as had the stockings that had clad her feet, leaving them bare but for a pair of obsidian rings placed on her two biggest toes. She leaned down, trying to prise them off, but they would not move. Gazing around, she noticed her sword stood blade-down in the sand, with a small orb, similar to the one the daemon had used in the chamber, lying next to it.
One hand reaching out to touch it, the orb flickered into life, the translucent face of the Excruciator appearing in the air over it. "Hello Uriel. I left this for you so that you know you're free to go. I enjoyed our time together, but I thought it's best to move on before one becomes tired of its toys," the face grinned, "If you ever find your way back to your home, give my regards to him. You'll know who it is when you see it. Oh, and I hope you like my little token..." the image blinked out of existence as she gazed down at the rings, before lifting her head high as she scorched the air with a promise of retribution.
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As I said on DA, anyone who is willing to venture as to who the Excruciator is, feel free to either PM me or post below.
The sky was dark now, a grey haze of ash blown by the wind as the sun set. Uriel could hear the sound of Ruin's hooves as he galloped off, the shame of how he had overcome her still hot in her heart. She reached for the boots he had left discarded, gently shrugging them on to avoid too much pressure on her now aching feet. She rolled over and grabbed a nearby length of knee-high debris to steady herself as she got up. Her wings wafted in the breeze as her other hand reached out and grasped the blade of her sword, stretching her limbs as she stood. She looked darkly in the direction that he had gone; knowing that as much as she wanted to, to strike him down after she'd agreed to break the Nex Sacrementum would be something that not even the Charred Council would stand for. And, she realised, she hadn't being able to take him before. Doing it after hours of his torture, for that was what it was to her, would be impossible, and she had no desire to let it happen again.
A howl broke the silence behind her, startling her into action. She stared into the dust, unable to see the cause of the noise. Then, the ground shook and the dust parted, like a wave breaking upon a ship's bow. She cursed softly at the thing. "A Tremor," she breathed, her sword up in an instant ready to defend herself. A pack of daemons surrounded it, a garish ensemble of different skin colours in contrast to the Tremor's tanned hide. It roared again, spittle flying from its fanged jaw, pounding the ground with its fearsome claws. Each one was half her height alone and Uriel knew from experience how easily those things had torn through the armour of even the best Hellguard in the war of the Third Kingdom.
She took a step back, the golden heel of her boot digging into the ground. This would have to be carefully done...the Tremor pounced, a swift motion for something as obscenely large as that. Just as it began to descend upon her, she leapt up, sword held before her like a spear point. The point burst through its forehead, the blade carrying on to split the daemons brain and upper skull in two as her motion combined with the creature's own to make its own demise. Her wings beat savagely to carry her over its corpse as it ploughed into the ground, furrowing the dust. Uriel dropped onto the ground, a cold smile on her lips as she gazed at the smaller daemons that remained.
They howled in reply, charging at her with one of them, an armoured brute clenching a heavy mace leading them. She ducked under one clumsy swing, her own blade cutting through its knee in a clean blow before her return sliced through its meaty neck. The stench of its blood filled the air as she turned, gutting another daemon, and then cutting another in half diagonally. The last one managed to block her sword, locking it against his crude axe as they strained for the advantage. Suddenly it lunged forward, its scaled head crashing into hers as it butted her away. As she collapsed onto the ground she kicked furiously, a blow that sent the daemon warrior up into the air before it crashed onto the ground, undoubtedly dead. Uriel panted heavily. To face such foes after what War had done to her left her amazed she'd been able to survive the brief onslaught.
Her eyes opened as she heard the unmistakable growl of a Tremor, a deep basso tone in contrast to their usual high-pitched roar, and her head snapped to her right as she stared at what had been a dead Tremor, The abomination was on all fours, its open skull leaking gore and blood as it sniffed the air. Impossible, she thought in shock. Surely nothing could survive the wounds done to it. Then it roared, foul breath hazing the air as it rushed at her. She rolled upwards into a crouch, her blade scything overhead before cleaving deeply into the flesh of its trunk-like arm. Its other hand crashed round, battering her away while the talons scored through her armour, gashing her dusky skin.
One mailed fist thumped into the Tremor's eye in response, the sheer force bursting it in a gout of ichor. Flipping over and back in the air, her boots met its head, cracking the already-mortal wound further open. It roared again, claws tearing through the air as it tried to see, its only eye blinded by the stream of crimson blood leaking from the Tremor's forehead. She gripped her blade's handle, ripping it out and plunging it into the creature's thrice-damned heart. It crashed onto its side, and the Archangel swung her sword through its neck in one titanic blow to make sure it never got up again. Her arms fell to her sides as the effort she'd put into the fight took its toll on her. Even the immortal warriors of Heaven were not immune to such minor concerns as rest. She rolled her head, wishing that the tension in it would go away before she realised that something was amiss. Along with the Tremor, there had been a pack of four daemons, the Destroyer's vaunted 'Phantom Guard', a pale mockery of the Hellguard.
There were only three lying dead on the ground, with the one she'd kicked missing. She was sure that it had killed it. It was cunning, for such a bloodthirsty beast. She swung around, her blade deflecting the daemon's axe to the side before she swung back to cleave its head in two. The blow was arrested as the thing grabbed her arm, turning and throwing her overhead like a bolas thrower that she'd seen one insignificant little tribe of humans use a few millennia past. She sailed through the air, crashing headfirst into a crumbled stone pillar. Just as her eyes closed and she drifted into the void of unconsciousness, the last thing she saw was the creature step towards her.
"Wake up, Angel..." a voice cooed. Uriel's eyes opened, her vision unclear as her head still throbbed from the pain of hitting the ruin. She looked round, trying to move her arms, but they remained upright above her, encased in spiked black iron chains. Her legs were left free, dangling in the air as she was suspended above the floor. Most of the chamber she was in lay in shadow, with only a single brazier, burning a green fire to light it. "I'm glad you're awake," the other purred in a voice like silk on skin. She could make out the speaker's silhouette in the darkness, a slight figure. He, for that voice was surely a male's, walked forwards, the sound of cloven hooves on stone echoing through the chamber. His dark purple hide was scaled, and his two muscled arms ended in short talons, flexing them as he walked. His head was crested with an obscene crown of horns. "What are you?" she spat at him.
The creature smiled, revealing sharp black teeth with a flickering forked tongue, and bowed ironically. "My name is meaningless to me and my master, though you would recognise it, Uriel." He began to circle her like a predator around its prey, one hand caressing her torso. She looked down, seeing that the gashes left by the Tremor had been bandaged, doubtless by this creature that had her in his power. No ordinary daemon would have left her alive. Her thoughts were interrupted as the daemon spoke again, "Though it does not matter, since what I do is how I am known, angel of Heaven." He was in front of her now, one clawed hand grasping her chin as he stared into her fiery eyes. "I am the Excruciator."
He let go, turning away as he strode off to a large table. Uriel could see him pluck something off it before he returned and brandished the blade. "I cause pain, Archangel. I am the essence of that word and all it conveys. And now you're here...I'll teach it to you." He growled in pleasure, before slicing it along her cheek. That was the start of the torment for Uriel.
For days, she had rested within the walls of the dungeon, her prison, it seemed, for as long as it took until the Excruciator would kill her and finally let her rest. Every delicate cut, every slight slice had set her skin on fire with waves of agony, and as much as she cried out in pain, she never once begged for mercy. Part of that was because she could expect none from such a fiendish creature, and the other was the satisfaction it gave her in seeing him frustrated. He had not let up even once, using that knife, subtle potions, spells of immense power in their capacity to cause pain, anything at his disposal, and he had failed to break her.
The brazen brass door swung open to admit her torturer. "How are we today, Uriel? I hope your wounds aren't too painful?" She cursed him in return, damning him and his master. "I see that they must be hurting then," he smiled deeply. One hand extended to her, containing a glass vial. "Within this, lies a cure to remedy your pain."
She smirked back, "I'll accept it. Means you have more time to fail in your purpose yet again, Excruciator."
The daemon snarled for a moment before his face smoothed back into a perverted smile. "Very well." He unstoppered it, lifting it to her lips and letting her drink it. The whole vial was emptied as he tilted it for her. Uriel felt the dim fire that had been with her since the start of her 'visit' here lift away. "Of course," smirked the daemon, "that potion has some...side-effects."
She laughed in his face. "Haven't you tried poisoning me already?"
"Not that kind," he carried on. "The side effects of the Abstergo Morsus are nothing compared to the agonies of my other creations. Rather, it enhances the sensitivity of the drinker."
She stared at him, before he reached into his robes, pulling a small orb out. Holding it in between them, he murmured an incantation. To Uriel, it was as if the room around them had suddenly changed from a black dungeon in the lair of the daemons to the wide open expanse of the Ashlands. "I recognise this place..." her voice trailed off as she realised what she was about to see. Two figures could be seen in the distance, near a pile of ruins. One of them was the Horseman, and she realised with a sick feeling what the Excruciator had found out. Suddenly, howls of laughter split the air and the figure besides War's crouching form tried to escape. The Excruciator, behind her now, rested his mouth next to her ear and whispered gently. "Now, the real torment begins, angel." With a crack the illusion dissipated, collapsing into a wisp of fog that evaporated into the crystal. Circling in front of her, the daemon cackled, before he slapped her, and she saw only black.
She awoke, not knowing how long she had been out for. Now she lay pinioned on a table, her wrists chained above her again while her legs were stretched out. Doubtless he had done it to avoid her struggling and escaping. He stepped out of the shadows, eyes bright as he eyed her even more vulnerable form. "Shall we...begin?" Without letting her reply, he positioned himself at the bottom of the table, the same one on which he had kept his instruments she noticed. His clawed hands reached out, grasping each of her boots before pulling them off. He stooped in closely to her feet, examining them as if to decide what he would do. She still wore the same stockings as when War had defeated her, with not a mark or stain of dirt upon them thanks to the unnatural the Creator had gifted the Angels to remain cleansed of any impurities. Gently grasping them apart from the skin of her feet, the daemon slowly, delightedly pulled them off, making sure Uriel realised her complete vulnerability.
"Would you like me to continue, or shall I accept your inevitable admission of defeat before I humble you, Angel?" he leered. She glared at him in reply, before her face cracked into a smile and she bucked her leg as he delicately traced a talon on her now bare sole. He did it again, this time with a talon on both soles, and was rewarded with a screech of laughter. He carried on, tracing them over and over, occasionally using more of his short talons. She laughed constantly, howling "Stoopppp! Pleaseeeee!"
The Excruciator only smiled in reply, sliding it between her toes one at a time.
He carried on for hours with that, a simple torment that felt worse to Uriel than any of his blades or magicks. Then he knelt, his face gazing at her in between her feet, his lecherous grin showing his enjoyment at how quickly she'd started to break. One of his hands grasped her left foot, the purple hue of his hide contrasting the dusky tone of her skin as he pulled her toes back tightly. The other hand reached out, prickling the skin of her taut toes as the daemon dug deep, eliciting the sound of hoarse laughter from the fatigued angel. "Please," she begged, desperate for him to stop.
Incredibly, she felt him withdraw the probing fingers. She tried to look to see what had happened, but her face contorted into a scream as her laugh filled the air once more. The Excruciator slowly slid his forked tongue around her toes, switching to her soles before he began to suckle each vulnerable toe. "I always take great pleasure in my work, archangel," he murmured, "and this time is no exception." He left no part untouched by the softness of his tongue, even making Uriel laugh as he slid it over the top of her foot.
Eventually he tired of this sport. "Goodnight angel," he called in a sing-song voice as the iron door swung shut behind him. Through the night she slept, surrounded by dreams so vivid she felt them real, the first time she had dreamt of anything during her imprisonment. She dreamt she was taken out of her cell, led into the depths of the Ashlands and dumped like waste by her captors. Closing her eyes wistfully, she doubted that this bastard Excruciator would ever let her go, and drifted into sleep.
She woke with a start, rubbing tired hands over her face before sitting upright. Then she remembered. Her hands were free! Impossible, surely she was still chained to the table she thought, but she looked around and realised where she was. The dusty wastes of the Ashlands was all she could see around her for leagues on end. Her boots had gone, as had the stockings that had clad her feet, leaving them bare but for a pair of obsidian rings placed on her two biggest toes. She leaned down, trying to prise them off, but they would not move. Gazing around, she noticed her sword stood blade-down in the sand, with a small orb, similar to the one the daemon had used in the chamber, lying next to it.
One hand reaching out to touch it, the orb flickered into life, the translucent face of the Excruciator appearing in the air over it. "Hello Uriel. I left this for you so that you know you're free to go. I enjoyed our time together, but I thought it's best to move on before one becomes tired of its toys," the face grinned, "If you ever find your way back to your home, give my regards to him. You'll know who it is when you see it. Oh, and I hope you like my little token..." the image blinked out of existence as she gazed down at the rings, before lifting her head high as she scorched the air with a promise of retribution.
__________________
