Nthal
Lizard folk in disguise
Nemesis - 9/6/2020
About fiends: They don’t think of us as equals. To them we are nothing more than a resource; souls to be collected, traded, used as fuel, used to create lesser fiends, and so on. They don’t share our goals, our values, or even our fears.
But the one thing we share is a fascination with each other. We see power to be leverages, and they see us as…playthings.
And to call it unhealthy is an understatement.
About fiends: They don’t think of us as equals. To them we are nothing more than a resource; souls to be collected, traded, used as fuel, used to create lesser fiends, and so on. They don’t share our goals, our values, or even our fears.
But the one thing we share is a fascination with each other. We see power to be leverages, and they see us as…playthings.
And to call it unhealthy is an understatement.
Beepu’s soft snoring continued, while Iesa lay there sprawled across the floor, with Mo nestled by his armpit. Daneath sat in the darkness, not knowing what to believe. He had seen Myrai as someone that was sure of herself. Someone in control. But the tale she told was about a person he didn’t know. Myrai’s lack of caution, her gullibility none of it seemed like. The part about being in love was the only thing that sort of made sense at all and even that didn’t sound like her.
“I’m having a very hard time following this. You talk about these races…what were they, Baatezu? They and the others, you make them sound commonplace. And why would anyone make a deal with…things…like that normally?”
Myrai turned her head to look at Daneath, “I’m sorry, but I forget what I consider common you consider extraordinary. The race of Baatezu are what you would call ‘Devils.’ And the reason why is simple; the Baatezu have power, and the ones seeking to make a bargain, don’t.
“And you can actually talk to Devils?”
Myrai sighed and then said in a rough voice “Perzackt! Nekim ninoc sek mondanach.”
“Ok…got your point. So, what does this all have to do with mirrors?” Daneath dreaded asking, feeling like it was almost too much to ask and unsure if he really wanted to know.
“I’m getting there. It…isn’t pretty. You…sure you want to hear it?”
Daneath nodded, “Yes, you’ve gone this far.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I found myself ‘entertaining’ Baatezu, Tanar’ri, what you call ‘Demons’, and ‘Yugoloths’ or ‘Daemons.’ It was…a low point. I suppose some part of me was perhaps eager for a new experience like a Sensate would be. But that faded, very quickly. All I wanted to do was help someone, and I didn’t even do that,” Myrai said while staring at the small mirror she had repaired.
“It seemed to be a never-ending parade of filthy, immortal, maggot grown fiends. I tried to keep count, but with the pain…I lost that and any sense of time very quickly. And I started to learn about the truth…about the lies in the contract.
“’Learn about the lies?’ Daneath asked, “Didn’t you cover that up front?”
“It was, but not like I had intended. When they talk about no marks, they only mean that at the very end. But before that…I was fair game for about anything.” Myrai pointed to her left forearm. “Look here, unscarred skin…now. But the first night, it was charred flesh after a Red Abashai put into a roaring fire. It just… crumbled away into ash right before my eyes. I couldn’t even scream.” Pointing down to her right leg she said “And I watched and was forced to converse with a Nalfeshnee as it…ate it… ever so slowly all while asking for recommendations on how my thigh should be seasoned. He even offered me a--”
Myrai stopped herself and stared the floor. She clutched her arms close to her as she started to recall the horrors. “It was a waking nightmare, a new fiend bringing, a new pain, a new horror. I remember being flayed. My bones broken. Acheron’s Glass being plunged into my flesh. Being cut to ribbons with greensteel knives or flechettes. I remember being disemboweled at least twice. I lost my eyes several times, in a variety of…inventive ways. Having my muscles fibers plucked like catgut on a lute. It went on…and on…and on.” She said, her eyes closed grimacing through the memory.
“That’s…just…horrible!” Daneath blanched as he heard the litany.
Myrai just nodded in agreement and continued…
Some of the fiends were just brutes, they reveled on causing indiscriminate pain. Others were far more…refined in technique and they had specific desires fulfilled. Some wanted to hear me scream as they worked me over, and others just wanted to watch my reactions. Each one was different, more intense than the last. Each one had thousands of years of experience in their…art. The difference between the Pit and their home, is they were free to do what they wanted, not just strip away the mortal coil till only evil remains.
Sometimes I would lose consciousness, only to have that Kyton rouse me. After a session, a healer would arrive and…fix me up. Occasionally, I’d be fed some gruel, roughly bathed and the process would start again. No two were ever the same. At the end of a day, I lay in a hammock of those chains…and I could only pray that my dreams would take me…anywhere else. A prayer that went unheeded. I wondered if I was being punished for not praying as often, I had before meeting Markel. That perhaps this was a twisted form of atonement.
All the while Markel’s dead eyes watched me. They left Markel’s corpse on the floor as a reminder for me and the malebranche had someone cast a spell on it, so it didn’t rot away. He said it was ‘to help keep my emotions at a ragged edge.’ His corpse stared at me blankly, as if judgment had been rendered and I had been found wanting. A constant reminder of my failure.
On the seventh day, something different happened. When I woke up in my bedding of chains, I saw some Imps bringing in some furniture. Five divans and five tables were brought in first. Then other objects; a pillory, a small table set to it, and finally something large and rectangular covered in red velvet that was set off to one side.
I lay the hammock, not clear on what was up. The chains that hung in the room were more than enough to control me, so the pillory seemed unnecessary. But the divans…I wasn’t sure what that was about. I noticed one of the imps talking to the Kyton, and soon it scampered away. Then, the chains moved, letting me down gently while keeping a pair wrapped tightly around my waist. The Kyton moved towards me and spoke.
“Several patrons have combined their time for something special. They are to take…care of you. You will comply. Stand and wait.” I stood there naked, my arms across myself shivering. Then I heard a scraping sound metal on stone. I watched as a pack of imps moved with great difficulty, a brass tub full of steaming hot water, with a small cage attached to one end, holding a mephit made of flames.
More imps appeared, Another brought in food, and another poured what appeared to be razorwine, into glasses. Then the patrons entered the room.
Not surprisingly, there were five of them. The first two were succubi, in female forms. Each with long dark tresses, and voluptuous bodies covered with only a minimal amount of leather. One of them carried a satchel with which they set on the table. Then the pair started to circle me, like wolves around their prey. They were evaluating, judging, looking me up and down.
I was afraid and confused. I had heard that succubi didn’t work together, that they would compete for souls, and even kill one another, rather than deal with a rivalry. They then touched me; poking, prodding and running their hands over me as they circled like vultures looking a fresh kill. But my dread increased when the next pair of fiends entered.
One was a glabrezu, a greater Tanar’ri. Normally they seduce with power to mortals willing to listen. Twice my height, and heavily muscled, he strode in into the room on taloned feet, giving me a only a sidelong glance. He quickly to and flopped down on the one of the divans and watched. Its two large pincer arms stretched out lazily above him, while the two smaller human arms pulled the wine to his lips. He just stared at me with those yellow eyes from the divan, saying nothing.
The next one surprised me; an erinyes. They were said to be fallen celestials, focused on twisted enforcement of punishments within Baator, and seducers of mortals. She was statuesque with skin like ivory. She wore armor, unlike the others, with a rope coiled at her waist and of course she had dark red feathery wings, not bat like ones the succubi had. I heard that they were also rarer than succubi who would typically be their rivals. And they were all beautiful in that twisted way and now I found myself standing there nervously, as the trio stood around me, and each touching me. They ran their hands along my shoulders, and down my back. They gracefully brushed my hair back to see my eyes. That they were gentle, which scared me the most, even as their wicked smiles showed malice, but they whispered to each other in Abyssal (which apparently the Erinyes could understand). And then the final of the five arrived.
And then my heart nearly stopped as stared with fear and horror.
She was the most gorgeous fiend I had ever seen but several features about her stood out. I noticed trailing behind her, was a tail split into four prehensile parts. Her dark green hair was lustrous and framed her face perfectly, as it cascaded down her back, between her wings that looked as if they were burned away from a great fall from Celestia. But it was the green halo of light above her head that told me who and what she was. I wanted to hide, to run, to be anywhere else in the multiverse. It was a Radiant Sister; one of the thirteen chosen of the Succubus Queen, Malcanthet herself.
Each Sister takes its name from its halo and based on the deep green color of here, I guessed that her name must have been Jade. I wondered what ill luck had befallen me, had I offended Kelemvor or another power altogether? Was I cursed? None of the other fiends had the presence or power that Jade had. And while I was sure the malebranche was very busy selling time to see me, I didn’t think I would attract this kind of attention.
Jade had come into the room with a drink already in hand and evaluated me with those smoldering eyes. But she never broke her slow strut to one of the divans, and then, gracefully lay upon it, her tails twisting and fanning the air around her. She leaned over and placed a kiss on the lounging glabrezu and whispered into its ear and playfully nibbled it. He gave a wicked smile and responded in deep toned growls and nodded. Then erinyes took her place on the other side of Jade, coolly watching the gambit unfold before them.
Without another word, the two succubi, each grabbed one of my arms and lifted me aloft into the air. And they slowly descended, and lowered me into the tub. At first, I thought this was an elaborate ritual that involved drowning. What they did was more unnerving; they landed, each standing in the tub with me, and began to bathe me.
“They gave you…a bath?” Daneath said disbelievingly.
Myrai nodded, “I had not yet been washed yet, it usually was a rag and a bucket of water thrown at me by a pair of imps, not a tub.”
“This sounds a bit different. What the--?”
Myrai nodded, “--And it only gets worse…please let me try to finish.”
The pair, playfully splashed the water onto me first and then they used soft cloths and soap. They took great delight in gently scrubbing me, cleaning away the blood and filth from the prior day. The divans were positioned so they could see the spectacle of my bath easily. Jade, the glabrezu and the erinyes each watched with smiles on their lips, as they watched their prey, me being prepared for something, all the while whispering to each other conspiratorially and sipping wine.
Before this, bathing before was a function of being clean, so that some fiend could make a mess however they liked. And being dirtied by something was a fairly consistent experience, blood, dirt, and other things. But this was anything but perfunctory. They were…gentle, taking their sweet time washing me. They took time to anoint me with scented oils and rubbed my muscles, and ran their hands over me, in an effort to calm and soothe me as I shivered not in the cold, but in fear. My body ached from the abuse given from pain and just from being stretched, and it responded to the kind attention they gave me.
Mentally I was guarded; I knew something was up, that this was a seduction. But my body wanted the soothing relief they granted me. That mephit below the tub was kicked a couple of times to keep the water warm, and the pair took their time cleaning off the blood and grime from the previous day. All the while grooming me by stroking and combing my hair and adding some fragranced oil into it. It felt all wrong in all the right ways. My shivers dissipated as the warmth penetrated to my bones. Mentally I was losing focus; it felt too good. It was everything the prior days weren’t.
The imps then flew in with trays, and then the succubi started feeding me fruits; some fresh, others candied and spiced. The flavors were sweet and tart at the same time and far better than the meager morsels of gruel they normally served me, most of which was barely edible. I bit and swallowed all that was given to me, eagerly. Usually it was the case I tasted my meal twice once going down, and after an intense session it coming back up again. So, my hunger was never sated, and I ate like the starved women I felt to be. As I was being doted on, the Abyssal conversation continued in whispers, with amused smiles on the lips of the Glabrezu and the Radiant Sister, while erinyes looked at me judgementally.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, none of this was making sense to me, and I noticed it didn’t make sense to my jailor either. Normally during a fiend’s session, he would sit and watch with ‘professional’…disinterest, stirring his tea. But now, he was standing on the side of the room his tea and spoon forgotten, and I could barely see furrowed brow on his shrouded face. Now if Kytons are indeed the masters of torture, then this was one was as confused as a monodrone in limbo. I could at a glance tell that he was trying to puzzle out the game being played.
As would have I; but the pair were too distracting. Being tag teamed and pampered by two was effective in keeping my mind away from questioning the circumstances. I couldn’t concentrate and discern what the game was. The positive stimulation from their caresses was a stark contrast to the pain I had suffered in the prior days. The care they gave me was a huge alarm in my head, and it was almost enough that I missed the next guest.
He, unlike the others, was a nobody. A male human wearing only a small loincloth, walked into the room flanked by a pair of imps. And silently he walked to the pillory and I then watched as he bent himself over and was fastened in by the imps. I could see that his back was covered in thick scars and it told a story. A story on how he was a regular here for the amusement of the patrons.
It confused me. Why did they pamper me, while prepare another for a session in pain? Where was my torture? Where was the pain I was going to suffer? Why were they doing this? It bothered me and my mind was no longer being rational. Was I jealous? But I’m the one getting pampered, so why would I be? Because I wasn’t the center of attention?
I seriously wondered if they slipped me a poison in the fruit.
Daneath sat there shaking his head. “I was beginning to wonder if your whole perspective was warped at this point. I don’t see how you wouldn’t have been a little scrambled.”
Myrai nodded, “I was a bit messed in the head, and that’s what they wanted. And I knew it. But after days of nothing but pain I quite frankly didn’t care. But this is where you see how it starts going barmy.”
The succubi then lifted me out of the tub and the used soft towels to dry me, and the imps slowly pushed that tub out of the room. Now the attention was on me and the man in the pillory. One of the succubi retrieved the satchel on the table and opened it. Inside were polished metal blades. Some straight, some with serrations, some with hooks. All sharp and clean.
The succubi picked a straight flechette from the set and handed it to me. I know I must have looked silly, with a confused look in my eyes as I stared at the instrument. The other one guided me to the man in the pillory. He was positioned so he was bent over at the waist, wearing only a loincloth, which was more than I had. She then traced on his back near the shoulder blade with a long-manicured nail, and then looked at me and spoke:
“Cut here,”
I was dumbfounded. My jaw dropped open, and I was grasping at straws on what to say. I never had thought about hurting someone intentionally for fun. And certainly not like this. And now a small group of fiends wanted me to hurt this man. I was shaking my head no, but she just repeated again with a slight admonishment.
But I wasn’t sure I could really refuse. This man wasn’t some prisoner, he had been here before. And certainly, I didn’t want more pain. I knew that I didn’t want to face another round of knives if I could help it. The back of my mind somewhere I was screaming no. But right now, after being well treated I was willing to do anything to keep it that way. I was being lured into trusting them.
And it was working.
I remember placing my hand on his back, and then drawing the flechette across his skin, following the ribs to his spine. My first attempt didn’t even break the skin. But the other succubus laid her hands upon mine and guided me with pressure. The flechette pierced the skin, and blood flowed everywhere. The man’s screams of pain echoed off the stone, and I almost dropped the flechette in my hand. The whole experience was unnerving, my fear returning along with more shaking. The three other fiends were talking among themselves. Pointing and nodding approvingly.
“Well done. Again,”
Encouraging me.
And so, I was being taught how to cut, slowly and painfully. The pair kept adding tools. Showing me how to draw out a scream. How to make the man howl. Each success was rewarded, with a soft touch, or soothing words.
Another scream, another complement.
The Kyton was looking at this and took the time to come closer to watch. And here I was, an aasimar being educated by fiends, and being judged by them on how to inflict pain. He watched, with curiosity at first, and then respect. I apparently had a feel for this.
But I was disgusted all the same. I didn’t want to do this, but the pair kept guiding, supporting, smiling. It didn’t matter that the man was here on his own volition. He probably voluntarily signed a contract, like I did. He probably knew the terms better that I did.
I kept cutting, poking, prodding, pulling, twisting. Small areas, and always slowly with precision. I have plenty of audible feedback when I struck the right balance, followed by a caress, a pat, even a small hug.
Complements were constant. The only criticism was for me to cut slower, to draw it out. As I was slowly shredding the man in front of me, the other fiends would each get up with their razorwine. They would put a hand on me, and my eye would meet theirs. They would complement and show me little things to improve on.
The Radiant Sister remained quiet with that knowing smile. She did walk around and would laid a comforting hand on my shoulder or a gentle caress occasionally, but otherwise said nothing to me.
This continued for I don’t know how long, and I kept listening and focusing. More cuts, more blood, more screams. I lost track of time when I heard footsteps of Jade move past me as I was working. And then I heard the movement of cloth.
I had forgotten about the velvet object in the room, and I looked up as I saw Jade, with the most innocent smile, revealed what was concealed beneath the velvet.
It was a mirror.
And within was an image I want to forget. An imagine that haunts my many nightmares today.
I saw myself in the mirror with that infinite gaze of mirrors in mirrors, standing over the man with a hooked knife in hand, ready to cut again. I was naked and covered in blood, none of it my own. It was spattered across my body, my hair and my face. As I looked myself in the mirror I shook, and the blade fell out of my hand.
I was smiling. A smile of pure bliss.
Jade then spoke in Celestial no less, “See? It’s not hard to convince a lily to dirty their halo. Especially when they are doing what they want to do anyway…”
No…what…no? My hands shook as I started to think back. When was the last time they told me to cut?
When did I start to do it on my own?
When did I start to take pride in my work?
When did I start to enjoy my work?
My hands shook violently, and I heard the knife clattering on the floor. My vision clouded as tears formed. I was shaking my head and mouthing the words ‘no’ over and over. I didn't want to do this. I didn’t enjoy it. I could have walked away. This wasn't in the contract. Why didn't I walk away? Why didn't I try? Why was I seeking approval, validation, confirmation?
What have I done?
And then I just sank to my knees in front of the mirror and screamed.
I had been screaming for six days, knowing the pain would end. This was different. It wasn’t pain that drove the scream from my lips. I felt like my soul was being torn asunder. I didn’t know who I was at that moment. It was during this primal scream my thoughts were wondering if I was tricked, if there was a spell that made me do it. But truth was in that mirror.
I did it all. And I was reveling in it. That I loved the pain I caused. That I felt empowered and strong because I was in control. I screamed at my own betrayal. I screamed in frustration on how I was manipulated here. I screamed at the ugly person I had become.
Finally, I heaved, and I vomited those tart berries on the stone, now bitter and dark as my soul felt. My screams had died down to whispers. And as I collapsed on the floor, I could hear the laughter of fiends echoing in my ears as they broke this simple mortal aasimar.
“Even lilies can be made to see the truth in themselves, they just hide it better. All it takes is some encouragement and some soap and even a foundling can fall.” Said Jade, this time in Infernal, which echoed in my ears as I surrendered to darkness.
Daneath’s eyes were wide. She had told them about the conversation in the bar where she had been playing up “cutting the gnome” with the madam. But he had no idea that she actually had done something like this. And he, like Myrai in the story was horrified at the implication that somewhere deep inside her, was a need to create and cause pain and misery.
Myrai wasn't weeping though. Her innocence was long gone, sacrificed in the Tenth Pit. She was slumped against the wall, no longer looking at Daneath, resigned to whatever judgment he had.
“When I came to, the pillory and other furnishings were being taken away by the imps. Only the mirror remained. But Jade was still there kneeling by me, looking at me with amusement.”
“All this drama,” Jade sneered, as she pulled my head up by the hair, so I could see my image in the mirror. “All this sanctimonious self-sacrifice, for a worm. A worm that betrayed her trust and sold her.” She tossed the barely remembered letter on the ground in front of me. “And pride and arrogance led you here, to find yourself. And there you lay in someone else's blood, someone else’s pain, feeling sorry for yourself. How rich. How typical. How…mortal.’ She let go of my hair, and my head sagged and touched the wet floor with my forehead.
“Your parents must be very proud of you,” and the five fiends stood and laughed. And with that, she stood and took the arm of the glabrezu, and the five of them left me to wallow in a new prison. One where I was the sole judge of its occupant.
I lay there stunned. My trembling hand reached for the letter and grabbed it. I pushed myself to a half sitting position, and I read it.
Myree,
By the time you read this, I should be dead. I didn’t realize that I had been peeled; that he was using me to get to you. It doesn’t matter now. I hope you don’t fall into the trap that has been laid for you. Don’t try to save me.
I owe you an apology; I spent time with you because you threw yourself at me. You were pretty and you just wanted to have fun. I hope you found some happiness for a while. But I didn’t have the courage to tell you I didn’t really love you. Everyone was just so impressed that I had a girl like you.
You deserved better. I guess the malebranche was right; I really did sell you to pay things off. It doesn’t matter they were going to hurt you anyway, because I couldn’t pay. I shouldn’t have been the cause.
I don’t deserve any favors, nor do deserve to ask anything from you. Not even forgiveness. I hope you walk away from this, because I don’t deserve to.
Believe well.
Markel
By the time you read this, I should be dead. I didn’t realize that I had been peeled; that he was using me to get to you. It doesn’t matter now. I hope you don’t fall into the trap that has been laid for you. Don’t try to save me.
I owe you an apology; I spent time with you because you threw yourself at me. You were pretty and you just wanted to have fun. I hope you found some happiness for a while. But I didn’t have the courage to tell you I didn’t really love you. Everyone was just so impressed that I had a girl like you.
You deserved better. I guess the malebranche was right; I really did sell you to pay things off. It doesn’t matter they were going to hurt you anyway, because I couldn’t pay. I shouldn’t have been the cause.
I don’t deserve any favors, nor do deserve to ask anything from you. Not even forgiveness. I hope you walk away from this, because I don’t deserve to.
Believe well.
Markel
I crumpled the parchment in my hand. Falling forward back onto the floor, I sobbed uncontrollably.
The love we had together was a sham; I was nothing more than an ornament on his shelf. The things we did…no I did for him meant nothing.
My unwanted sacrifice was worthless.
“I was honey peeled three times over. By Markel. By the Malebranche. By Jade. The rule of threes in action.”
While he didn't quite get the phrasing, Daneath certainly understood a con. Sure, he had done shady stuff. But he didn’t play with lives. The harlot in the brothel he tried not to hurt while saving Beepu was an example.
But this was something else. He saw why Myrai could laugh at the anyone what wasn’t afraid of punishments for their actions in life. She had perspective, from the evilest beings straight from Hell itself.
Daneath, got up and sat next to Myrai. she appeared exhausted. She flinched when Daneath touched her, and she almost recoiled when he put his arm around her shoulders. She was tense at first, but she slowly relaxed and leaned her head on his shoulder. He could smell the fragrance in her hair for the first time, and the softness of her now unblemished skin. Her breathing slowed as she relaxed.
“I can only say sorry. What happened was horrible. But…how did you pull through that?”
She sighed, “I found something unexpected in the Pit.”
“Compassion."
Story Notes:
The last part is coming soon...and then back to the mess on the island.