- Joined
- Nov 10, 2008
- Messages
- 16,468
- Reputation score
- 430
Mirchell: HP = 67, PP = 44, EP = 47, Status = Fine, Starvation Collar
Maebev - Arch Traitor and Loyal Lieutenant
Aleida - Succubus Torturer
Malkeinith - Captain of the Lowest Guard
Maebev - Arch Traitor and Loyal Lieutenant
Aleida - Succubus Torturer
Malkeinith - Captain of the Lowest Guard
It was difficult to measure the passage of time in Hell. The sky was ever alight in a wild mix of colors, casting the barren, ruinous landscape in a grim rainbow. There was no day or night, no seasonal weather; such things were known only via contact with Donevrion, when fools gave the ravenous horrors here a glimpse of a better, more living world. The air was near always still unless moved by magic, and the only water lay in ever-stagnant pools. The few remaining trees were skeletal fossils, the air recycled now only by toxic algae blooms that covered much of the dead world's water supply, while the only plant-like life came in the form of fungal blooms that the ground-worms that made up the diet of most demons now sustained themselves upon. The many settlements were little more than ruins fought over by malignant and petty lords. The Devourer had scoured the world of all wholesome life, and even after that wretched deity's annihilation the magics sustaining the habitation of his slaves still held... Even if it might have been better if those powers had failed, that Hell's surface be exposed to the natural forces of space and finally put fully out of its misery by the loss of is atmosphere and a bombardment of stellar power.
Mirchell might well believe that now, in some corner of her tattered psyche. She had returned to this place to slaughter her sire, against the advice of all on Donevrion who had known her there. Things had even seemingly gone well, at first... She had fought her way across Hell's surface, facing little meaningful resistance as she sought out her father's demense. When she found it, she had fought her way to its heart, even seemingly turning one of his lieutenants against him, the demoness Maebev proving invaluable in getting Mirchell close enough to her father to finally spring her assault. At long last, she had come face to face with him again, at long last she could have her vengeance! ...He had let her speak for a time, confronting him before his treacherous court, and even get a single swing off at him, before Maebev's defensive enchantments on her were suddenly withdrawn and then reversed, and he then casually took hold of her mind and humiliated her. She was made to discard her arms and armor, to strip naked, to prance like a common succubus, to demean herself on hands and knees for his perverse court, and when his higher ranking allies - including Maebev - had had their fun with her, she was tossed to his petty minions for much the same. Maebev's scorn had been the cruelest in those first few hours, the traitor lieutenant using anything and everything that Mirchell might have inadvertently revealed to her against the captured demoness to try and wear down her self worth.
It was an agonizing eternity before Mirchell's thoughts were fully her own again, though in truth he had only bothered to maintain total domination over her mind for about a month. By that point, the wretched collar had already been placed around her neck, forcing not only her obedience but denying her the ability to feed. That was the nearly the last she'd actually seen of her hated sire, barring an occasional appearance at a court function as a piece of entertainment... And that was where Aleida had come in.
Her father's professional torturer had been the architect of her destruction. She seemed to know exactly when to offer a semblance of kindness to make the ensuing pains worse, and had discovered early that she could easily cause Mirchell the most discomfort by touching her as a genuinely affectionate lover might. The succubus had engineered countless tortures for Mirchell over the ensuing centuries; She had been fed upon until starving - by gangs of succubi who teased out every iota of her essence or by Aleida herself who made their impatient torments seem quick by comparison - and then left that way for days, only to have to suck off lowly slaves who had been forcibly engineered to produce energy-restoring cum. Her womb had often been put to work as well; she had been forced to bear litters of hellhounds, nightmare foals, clutches of darkwalker or tentacled horror eggs, and even rendered a breeder for lowly goblins. Never had she been allowed to carry a trueborn demon, however; By her father's reckoning, she was unfit to truly carry on his lineage, though she knew of her half-siblings only by an occasional mention. That didn't mean she wasn't regularly used by the common rabble, however; being given to the goblins for the week was a regular threat.
Most pathetic of all was her "handler" and slavemaster; Malkeinith the Guardmaster. Little more than a lowly soldier, Malkeinith was a poor fighter, a coward, and worse than an amateur at strategy or tactics. He was older than Mirchell, had been in his current position before she'd even been born, but had not advanced in centuries. She could have beaten him in single combat, even without access to her enhancing magics, and yet he was the one who was in charge of her when, after a few years of being nothing more than a whore, she was made to serve as an expendable shock trooper for the sake of her father's continuing wars with all of his neigbors. It was thanks in some part to the man's ineptitude and cowardly behavior - retreating whenever pressed and relying on ambushes upon weaker foes to win what few victories he secured - that Mirchell was still alive, at this point, for better or worse. Good performance on her part even earned her some measure of reprieve from Aleida's torments, sometimes... Though that often came in the form of a binary choice; Do well and get something less horrible, do poorly and get the greater humiliation.
That was what she had to look forward to when she returned from their latest outing; If she performed well, she would bear another new nightmare, while if she didn't she would spend the next few weeks hosting darkwalker eggs. That day, she was to be part of an assault upon a local rival from whom her father had already taken a sizeable chunk of territory. Their gains were still dangerous contested land - in reality little more than some barren plains with some mushroom fields with a couple of crumbling towers - however, and Malkeinith had put her under the control of an even lesser lieutenant with naught but Mirchell herself and a squad of goblins. The woman had proven bolder than her commander, at least... And that foolish bravery led to her own death, and Mirchell's freedom.
They had assaulted a dense collection of stones that might have once been a building, sweeping aside what little resistance had been on offer, when an invisible assault from above unleashed a trio of fireballs into their midst. The detonations had obliterated the goblins and Malkeinith's underling, but Mirchell had been spared the brunt of the blasts and instead been knocked unconscious and buried under some debris. There she had awoken... Abandoned, Malkeinith having no doubt retreated, while their foes had left to their own strongholds as well. With the death of the lowly subcommander, her "loyalty" had been reverted back to Malkeinith and those above him on the totem pole.... Who happened not to be present. So long as she didn't fall back into their influence or encounter an artificer who could force commander over it, the collar around her neck would only seal her powers and prevent her feeding, not determine her actions for her...
