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<<set $begging = 0>>You are Lady Dazran, Painkiller of the Order of Desolation, General of Dispater's hellish forces in the great city of Corner. You have ruled over your forces mercilessly, gloriously, ferociously.
And now you find yourself [[on your knees.]] <<if $begging == 0>>Suzerain Myah, //your subordinate//, stands before you, stands //over// you, looking down at you. It looks down at most people, given how it stands at seven foot ten, but with you here, like this, knee-bent and bloodied, that downwards looking is <<linkappend "finally felt.">>
(That is a lie. You have always felt the difference, always bristled when it entered, so impossibly large, swaggering in, impossible not to pay attention to, impossible to dismiss. Someone that size, that build, the very sight of them screamed threat. You refused to respond to that warning, fearing others would deem you intimidated.
You should have slain it when you had the chance.)
Your troops have abandoned you. Your patron has left you at Myah's discretion (at its mercy). All because this lying, arrogant bastard has been pulling strings and undermining you behind your back this whole fucking time.
It doesn't bother to hold its sword to your throat. Instead it lounges, one hand on the hilt, point resting on the floor, showing off the size and power of that sword, the one where you haven't a fucking clue where it found that thing but it just proves you right: bastard has been accruing power to cut you down this whole time. As if just to make a point, it's a good five or so inches bigger than yours (or, the sword that was yours, that you watched Myah give to a nobody, someone who could never wield it like you).
"Well then?" Myah asks, rhetorically, smirking, voice a coy drawl that makes you want to ignore all sense of self-preservation so that you might reach up and rip its damn throat out. "[[Beg.|on your knees.][$begging += 1]]"<</linkappend>><<elseif $begging == "1">>You want to live. You want to live so you can stab it in the back in return.
So. You <<linkappend "beg.">>
"[[I have done nothing to wrong you. Every choice I made was for the good of the order. I was a good leader.|on your knees.][$begging = 2]]"
"[[You don't want to start your command of this Order with the blood of one of your own on your hands. Even our kind have rules, a sense of ethics.|on your knees.][$begging = 3]]"
"[[Let me go. I will leave the Order if you wish it. I will leave the city if I must. Just let me live. I'm the one who made you. You owe me that much.|on your knees.][$begging = 4]]"
<</linkappend>>
<<elseif $begging == 2>>Myah snorts. There's barely even venom in it. It is a mockery so worn out it doesn't even bother to accord you hate. "Every choice you made was to satisfy your own sadism, //my lady//. Besides." Myah leans down, close enough that you have to fight the urge to launch upwards and latch your teeth to its throat, bite down and tear; the blood on your tongue would be satisfaction enough even as it killed you in return. It lowers its voice so that only the two of you may be privy to its next statement. "You think I care so much for //the good of the Order//? I'm not doing this for the Order, or for Hell. <<linkappend "I'm doing this because you're a bitch I've long wanted to put down.">>"
For the first time, fear, real fear licks down your back. You can feel, on the edges of your awareness, a dawning consciousness of-- what? Something you did not think you'd ever had to face: an end, without the promise of renewal or continuation. This is the wet, animal fear of prey caught in a trap.
So, again, <<linkappend "you beg.">>
"[[Listen, You don't want to start your command of this Order with the blood of one of your own on your hands. Even our kind have rules, a sense of ethics.|on your knees.][$begging = 5]]"
"[[Let me go. I will leave the Order if you wish it. I will leave the city if I must. Just let me live. I'm the one who made you. You owe me that much.|on your knees.][$begging = 6]]"
<</linkappend>><</linkappend>>
<<elseif $begging == 3>>Myah actually rolls its eyes at that. "Oh, please, do you have nothing better than that? Our kind has rules, sure. Like make sure when you stab someone in the back, you stab them so they won't come back to bite. We are an Order ruthless by oath."
Myah gives you a smile. It is cold. "No one taught me that better than you. How many years have I served you? And how often have you treated me as anything more than a bad dog? Or are you only so callous to those you think too stupid to make you pay for it?"
<<linkappend "You did think it stupid.">> You used to relish in the sense that this one, this giant bastard, you could push, nudge, prod, poke, bend to the limit and still run circles round it because, well, <<linkappend "mentally it's little better than a child, isn't it?">> You still believe this. You're still certain that the second it assumes control, things will fall to ruin because <<linkappend "how can something like it do even half of what you had to do?">>
(You swallow back the bile that rises when you think of all the planning it must have taken to unravel you so completely, how much manipulation, deceit, and strategy was required for your undoing. Could you have misjudged it so completely? No, the bitch can't even //read//. A fluke then.
A fluke that wears a smile like it knows that even now, you're making the mistake of underestimating it.)
"C'mon, //m'lady.// Convince me. <<linkappend "Beg, and this time, do it better.">>"
"[[I have done nothing to wrong you. Every choice I made was for the good of the order. I was a //good// leader.|on your knees.][$begging = 7]]"
"[[Let me go. I will leave the Order if you wish it. I will leave the city if I must. Just let me live. I'm the one who made you. You owe me that much.|on your knees.][$begging = 8]]"
<</linkappend>><</linkappend>><</linkappend>><</linkappend>>
<<elseif $begging == 4>>Myah outright laughs at that, throws its head back; you watch those sharp teeth, and fantasise fleetingly about how they would feel tearing into your flesh, ripping at your stomach. That's what's happened, isn't it? Your own dog is eating you.
"No, my good lady. We have, both of us, got too strong a taste for blood. I send you away, I know, that dog shall come back to bite. If I let you live, I would do it here, where I might keep you broken. But I have yet to see any reason why I should permit such a thing. Perhaps it is time you try again. <<linkappend "Beg, little doggy.">>"
"[[I have done nothing to wrong you. Every choice I made was for the good of the order. I was a //good// leader.|on your knees.][$begging = 9]]"
"[[You don't want to start your command of this Order with the blood of one of your own on your hands. Even our kind have rules, a sense of ethics.|on your knees.][$begging = 10]]"<</linkappend>><<elseif $begging == 5>>Myah actually rolls its eyes at that. "Oh, please, do you have nothing better than that? Our kind has rules, sure. Like make sure when you stab someone in the back, you stab them so they won't come back to bite. We are an Order ruthless by oath."
Myah gives you a smile. It is cold. "No one taught me that better than you. How many years have I served you? And how often have you treated me as anything more than a bad dog? Or are you only so callous to those you think too stupid to make you pay for it?"
<<linkappend "You did think it stupid.">> You used to relish in the sense that this one, this giant bastard, you could push, nudge, prod, poke, bend to the limit and still run circles round it because, well, <<linkappend "mentally it's little better than a child, isn't it?">> You still believe this. You're still certain that the second it assumes control, things will fall to ruin because <<linkappend "how can something like it do even half of what you had to do?">>
(You swallow back the bile that rises when you think of all the planning it must have taken to unravel you so completely, how much manipulation, deceit, and strategy was required for your undoing. Could you have misjudged it so completely? No, the bitch can't even //read//. A fluke then.
A fluke that wears a smile like it knows that even now, you're making the mistake of underestimating it.)
"C'mon, //m'lady.// Convince me. <<linkappend "Beg, and this time, do it better.">>"
"[[Let me go. I will leave the Order if you wish it. I will leave the city if I must. Just let me live. I'm the one who made you. You owe me that much.|on your knees.][$begging = 11]]"
<</linkappend>><</linkappend>><</linkappend>><</linkappend>>
<<elseif $begging == 6>>Myah outright laughs at that, throws its head back; you watch those sharp teeth, and fantasise fleetingly about how they would feel tearing into your flesh, ripping at your stomach. That's what's happened, isn't it? Your own dog is eating you.
"No, my good lady. We have, both of us, got too strong a taste for blood. I send you away, I know, that dog shall come back to bite. If I let you live, I would do it here, where I might keep you broken. But I have yet to see any reason why I should permit such a thing. Perhaps it is time you try again. <<linkappend "Beg, little doggy.">>"
"[[Listen, You don't want to start your command of this Order with the blood of one of your own on your hands. Even our kind have rules, a sense of ethics.|on your knees.][$begging = 12]]"<</linkappend>>
<<elseif $begging == 7>>Myah snorts. There's barely even venom in it. It is a mockery so worn out it doesn't even bother to accord you hate. "Every choice you made was to satisfy your own sadism, //my lady//. Besides." Myah leans down, close enough that you have to fight the urge to launch upwards and latch your teeth to its throat, bite down and tear; the blood on your tongue would be satisfaction enough even as it killed you in return. It lowers its voice so that only the two of you may be privy to its next statement. "You think I care so much for //the good of the Order//? I'm not doing this for the Order, or for Hell. <<linkappend "I'm doing this because you're a bitch I've long wanted to put down.">>
For the first time, fear, real fear licks down your back. You can feel, on the edges of your awareness, a dawning consciousness of-- what? Something you did not think you'd ever had to face: an end, without the promise of renewal or continuation. This is the wet, animal fear of prey caught in a trap.
So, again, <<linkappend "you beg.">>
"[[Let me go. I will leave the Order if you wish it. I will leave the city if I must. Just let me live. I'm the one who made you. You owe me that much.|on your knees.][$begging = 13]]"<</linkappend>><</linkappend>>
<<elseif $begging == 8>>Myah outright laughs at that, throws its head back; you watch those sharp teeth, and fantasise fleetingly about how they would feel tearing into your flesh, ripping at your stomach. That's what's happened, isn't it? Your own dog is eating you.
"No, my good lady. We have, both of us, got too strong a taste for blood. I send you away, I know, that dog shall come back to bite. If I let you live, I would do it here, where I might keep you broken. But I have yet to see any reason why I should permit such a thing. Perhaps it is time you try again. <<linkappend "Beg, little doggy.">>"
"[[I have done nothing to wrong you. Every choice I made was for the good of the order. I was a //good// leader.|on your knees.][$begging = 14]]"<</linkappend>>
<<elseif $begging == 9>>Myah snorts. There's barely even venom in it. It is a mockery so worn out it doesn't even bother to accord you hate. "Every choice you made was to satisfy your own sadism, //my lady//. Besides." Myah leans down, close enough that you have to fight the urge to launch upwards and latch your teeth to its throat, bite down and tear; the blood on your tongue would be satisfaction enough even as it killed you in return. It lowers its voice so that only the two of you may be privy to its next statement. "You think I care so much for //the good of the Order//? I'm not doing this for the Order, or for Hell. <<linkappend "I'm doing this because you're a bitch I've long wanted to put down.">>"
For the first time, fear, real fear licks down your back. You can feel, on the edges of your awareness, a dawning consciousness of-- what? Something you did not think you'd ever had to face: an end, without the promise of renewal or continuation. This is the wet, animal fear of prey caught in a trap.
So, again, <<linkappend "you beg.">>
"[[You don't want to start your command of this Order with the blood of one of your own on your hands. Even our kind have rules, a sense of ethics.|on your knees.][$begging = 15]]"<</linkappend>><</linkappend>>
<<elseif $begging == 10>>Myah actually rolls its eyes at that. "Oh, please, do you have nothing better than that? Our kind has rules, sure. Like make sure when you stab someone in the back, you stab them so they won't come back to bite. We are an Order ruthless by oath."
Myah gives you a smile. It is cold. "No one taught me that better than you. How many years have I served you? And how often have you treated me as anything more than a bad dog? Or are you only so callous to those you think too stupid to make you pay for it?"
<<linkappend "You did think it stupid.">> You used to relish in the sense that this one, this giant bastard, you could push, nudge, prod, poke, bend to the limit and still run circles round it because, well, <<linkappend "mentally it's little better than a child, isn't it?">> You still believe this. You're still certain that the second it assumes control, things will fall to ruin because <<linkappend "how can something like it do even half of what you had to do?">>
(You swallow back the bile that rises when you think of all the planning it must have taken to unravel you so completely, how much manipulation, deceit, and strategy was required for your undoing. Could you have misjudged it so completely? No, the bitch can't even //read//. A fluke then.
A fluke that wears a smile like it knows that even now, you're making the mistake of underestimating it.)
"C'mon, //m'lady.// Convince me. <<linkappend "Beg, and this time, do it better.">>"
"[[I have done nothing to wrong you. Every choice I made was for the good of the order. I was a //good// leader.|on your knees.][$begging = 16]]"<</linkappend>><</linkappend>><</linkappend>><</linkappend>>
<<elseif $begging == 11 or $begging == 13>>Myah outright laughs at that, throws its head back; you watch those sharp teeth, and fantasise fleetingly about how they would feel tearing into your flesh, ripping at your stomach. That's what's happened, isn't it? Your own dog is eating you.
"No, my good lady. We have, both of us, got too strong a taste for blood. I send you away, I know, that dog shall come back to bite. If I let you live, I would do it here, where I might keep you broken. But I have yet to see any reason why I should permit such a thing. Perhaps it is time you try again. <<linkappend "Beg, little doggy.">>"
"[[You know me, you know my competence, my skills as a strategist, as a leader, as a fighter! Even if I do not hold my own command, you know that I'd be a valuable advisor, or a ground troop, or a dipolmat. You should let me live because you know, however much you might hate me, I can be useful!|on your knees.][$begging = 17]]"<</linkappend>>
<<elseif $begging == 14 or $begging == 16>>Myah snorts. There's barely even venom in it. It is a mockery so worn out it doesn't even bother to accord you hate. "Every choice you made was to satisfy your own sadism, //my lady//. Besides." Myah leans down, close enough that you have to fight the urge to launch upwards and latch your teeth to its throat, bite down and tear; the blood on your tongue would be satisfaction enough even as it killed you in return. It lowers its voice so that only the two of you may be privy to its next statement. "You think I care so much for //the good of the Order//? I'm not doing this for the Order, or for Hell. <<linkappend "I'm doing this because you're a bitch I've long wanted to put down.">>"
For the first time, fear, real fear licks down your back. You can feel, on the edges of your awareness, a dawning consciousness of-- what? Something you did not think you'd ever had to face: an end, without the promise of renewal or continuation. This is the wet, animal fear of prey caught in a trap.
So, again, <<linkappend "you beg.">>
"[[You know me, you know my competence, my skills as a strategist, as a leader, as a fighter! Even if I do not hold my own command, you know that I'd be a valuable advisor, or a ground troop, or a dipolmat. You should let me live because you know, however much you might hate me, I can be useful!|on your knees.][$begging = 17]]"<</linkappend>><</linkappend>>
<<elseif $begging == 12 or $begging == 15>>Myah actually rolls its eyes at that. "Oh, please, do you have nothing better than that? Our kind has rules, sure. Like make sure when you stab someone in the back, you stab them so they won't come back to bite. We are an Order ruthless by oath."
Myah gives you a smile. It is cold. "No one taught me that better than you. How many years have I served you? And how often have you treated me as anything more than a bad dog? Or are you only so callous to those you think too stupid to make you pay for it?"
<<linkappend "You did think it stupid.">> You used to relish in the sense that this one, this giant bastard, you could push, nudge, prod, poke, bend to the limit and still run circles round it because, well, <<linkappend "mentally it's little better than a child, isn't it?">> You still believe this. You're still certain that the second it assumes control, things will fall to ruin because <<linkappend "how can something like it do even half of what you had to do?">>
(You swallow back the bile that rises when you think of all the planning it must have taken to unravel you so completely, how much manipulation, deceit, and strategy was required for your undoing. Could you have misjudged it so completely? No, the bitch can't even //read//. A fluke then.
A fluke that wears a smile like it knows that even now, you're making the mistake of underestimating it.)
"C'mon, //m'lady.// Convince me. <<linkappend "Beg, and this time, do it better.">>"
"[[You know me, you know my competence, my skills as a strategist, as a leader, as a fighter! Even if I do not hold my own command, you know that I'd be a valuable advisor, or a ground troop, or a dipolmat. You should let me live because you know, however much you might hate me, I can be useful!|on your knees.][$begging = 17]]"
<</linkappend>><</linkappend>><</linkappend>><</linkappend>>
<<elseif $begging == 17>>
At this, Myah goes very still. Relief washes over you; it gives you the sense that, at least, you have said what Myah has been probing for. "Yes," it murmurs, purring agreement, satisfaction seeping into its expression, its posture, the way it leans in close. You allow yourself a moment of exhaustion, of joy, of hatred made sweeter for the idea that <<linkappend "one day you shall avenge this humiliation.">>
Then you see properly: you see the curl of the lips, the way it pushes its sword aside and allows the metal to crash to the ground not as a sign of peace, but of something hungry and wanting. You hear the echoes of what you have said, repeating the past, offering up retribution. You shake as Myah brings its hands to your jaw; strokes your cheek.
"Yes," it agrees once more. "You are of use, my fair Lady. You are of use; [[however much that use is limited.|snap]]"<</linkappend>>
<</if>>
Myah grips; twists, like rending a melon in two; snaps your neck, and [[you live long enough to hear the click]] (sharp, then wet as it keeps twisting and extracts muscle from bone.)
End.