Cirilia looked up from the piece of paper. "So you want me to read this to the **** that's downstairs and then... I get to this?" she asked, jabbing the paper with her index finger repeatedly.
Alira smiled, but didn't offer a word in confirmation.
Cirilia squealed in delight, "Sweeeeeet!" She looked at Adonias and stuck her tongue at him with a wrinkled up nose. His eyes narrowed as he returned the expression before smirking. "Let's go ruin someone's life, McCraberson!" she cheered as she headed downstairs with a spring in her step.
She opened the door to the room suddenly and shouted abruptly, "MARCEL! Time to get the **** up, buddy!" She strode confidently into the room, the hard soles of her steel-toed boots clunking across the floor. The mage shot sat up in bed with a wide-eyed expression and an exclamation. The large black wolf that had been watching their unexpected guest, got up and stretched lazily. Cirilia grinned at it before it quietly padded out of the room. Adonias came up and stood beside Cirilia, smirking.
Marcel watched the wolf leave and then looked to the two standing before him, "I demand you release me at once! You can't hold me against my will!" Cirilia leaned over and pulled a dagger out of the inside of one of her boots. The dagger's edge was oily in the flicking light from the nearby forge. Cirilia took out a cloth and began carefully cleaning the poison off the vorpal edge, smirking as the mage stammered at the sight of the blade.
"You aren't in any position to demand anything, you little ****, " she stated as she wagged the dagger at him disapprovingly. "You are gonna listen to this message and then I get to have some fun and if you..." she wagged the dagger to emphasis every syllabel as she spoke, "... do. not. ****. this. up. you. might. get. to. live. " Marcel opened his mouth to speak, but then shut it quickly and stared at her. "See, Adonias? They *can* be taught." Adonias held out his palm and Cirilia deposited the soiled cloth and the dagger flatly upon it. Adonias tossed the cloth into the forge and grabbed some tongs. Cirilia sat down next to the bed, grinning at the shocked mage, "Don't looks so surprised at your situation. You sort of brought this whole mess on yourself, ya know. You should never... *ever*... lie to Her. She hates lying... like ****... like hate hates it... like loathes it... "
"I didn't lie to her!" he blurted out.
"Hey! Listen up ****-for-brains! I wasn't done! ... like loathes it... like she'd probably be less upset if you stabbed her in the back and tried to *kill* her... rather than lie to her. So considering the depth of Her hatred... trust me... you are getting off with a slap on the proverbial wrist."
Adonias chuckled quietly as he held the dagger by the tongs and held it over the coals. "Seriously. You have no idea how light of a sentence this is for Her."
"Sentence? What sentence? WAIT! What's going to happen?!" he began to panic.
Cirilia tsked and wagged her finger at him. "All in good time. Let me read what she wants said and then we can answer that question. " She pulled out the folded up piece of paper and began to unfold it. "Now here's my rule in all this..." she said as she looked at him. There was no kindness in that gaze as her eyes locked on him, only a predatory darkness that hoped he would **** this up. "... every time you interrupt me is a second longer I'll make that upcoming punishment last. You might not think that a second is a long time... I promise you... it will seem much longer...." She smiled slightly at him watching his eyes intently. His eyes darted to the door and then back to her. Her smile broadened as she watched him and a light shiver danced over her skin, "Oh please. Please. *Do* try to run." The mage studied that predatory look in her eyes, "If you run... you die. Promise."
The mage settled his back against the wall and waited for whatever was on that horrible little paper. Cirilia cleared her throat dramatically and gave the paper a little shake. She raised her voice a bit higher, a distinctly more feminine sound as she started, "You have desecrated the virtue of honesty and lied personally to me. You sought to take advantage of my kindness and generosity under the banner of deceit and have put the good, honest citizens at risk with your behavior. You are no longer welcome on Verity Isle and you have twelve hours to gather any belongings and vacate. If you are found visiting, living or working in the future here, there will be ramifications that will make your final Death a mercy killing."
Adonias tested the heat of the blade against his finger, grinning as Cirilia continued, "For the act of lying to the me and endangering the lives of the citizens of our noble city, you will have your tongue permanently removed."
Marcel opened his mouth and blurted out, "... but this is all wrong!!!"
Cirilia held out a single finger as if to keep count as she continued, "Not only can you *not* be trusted to speak the truth, but someone who has such careless and reckless behavior should not have the ability to practice magic. Magic is a gift and you are no longer worthy of using it. If your tongue is found to be restored, it will be removed again with much less consideration for your health or comfort. If anyone have been foolish enough to employ your ineptitude, may this serve as a message to stay the **** off this island and to avoid annoying me." Cirilia began folding the paper neatly signifying she was finished.
Immediately the protests began as the mage pleaded for the fate of his lying tongue, "You can't do this to me! Please!! I'll do anything. Tell you whatever you want to know! The truth this time!"
"Too late. Now take your medicine like a man so you can learn from your mistakes. " she stood and turned towards him. Adonias tossed her a pair of thick heavy leather gloves which she put on. The protests had turned to sobbing, muttered complaints about how unfair all of this was.
Adonias strode over and dropped the pommel of the scalding hot dagger in her outstretched palm. He clicked the spiked end of the smithing tongs together, "Open up..."
Marcel's lips clamped shut at the command, hiding his precious tongue. Cirilia tsked, "You won't get asked a second time." His lips stayed sealed as if the act of defiance would thwart his destiny. Cirilia quickly darted out a hand and pressed the flat of the blade against his upper arm. The mage screamed in agony, opening his mouth to do so. Adonias used that moment to quickly grab hold of the man's tongue. He pulled hard on the doomed prisoner, stretching it painfully out of Marcel's mouth. The spike drew blood as it tested its hold against the thrashing man. Cirilia placed the sharp edge against the base of the outstretched tongue. The guttural wail intensified as she began to cut into the flesh. Blood spurted and flowed, splashing out of his mouth and onto his pants. The noxious and acrid smell of cooked meat filled the room as the hot steel burned the horrific wound closed as she cut. She looked down at his eyes as she continued to slide the blade up and down in a slow sawing motion. She said softly, elongating the word with a smile, "O...n....e....." He choked out a renewed yell and she pulled the blade quickly to her, cleaning severing the remainder. The stump was still leaching blood, but the hot metal had closed a majority of the wound.
As they both took a step back and watched him covered his mouth with both hands, sobbing. Cirilia spoke finally, "Now... Marcel. Now you can run. " He looked up at her with a look of hatred and pain. "Run Marcel. The clock is ticking and in twelve hours you better not still be here..." His eyes widened and immediately ran, half-stumbling towards the door and freedom.
Alira smiled, but didn't offer a word in confirmation.
Cirilia squealed in delight, "Sweeeeeet!" She looked at Adonias and stuck her tongue at him with a wrinkled up nose. His eyes narrowed as he returned the expression before smirking. "Let's go ruin someone's life, McCraberson!" she cheered as she headed downstairs with a spring in her step.
She opened the door to the room suddenly and shouted abruptly, "MARCEL! Time to get the **** up, buddy!" She strode confidently into the room, the hard soles of her steel-toed boots clunking across the floor. The mage shot sat up in bed with a wide-eyed expression and an exclamation. The large black wolf that had been watching their unexpected guest, got up and stretched lazily. Cirilia grinned at it before it quietly padded out of the room. Adonias came up and stood beside Cirilia, smirking.
Marcel watched the wolf leave and then looked to the two standing before him, "I demand you release me at once! You can't hold me against my will!" Cirilia leaned over and pulled a dagger out of the inside of one of her boots. The dagger's edge was oily in the flicking light from the nearby forge. Cirilia took out a cloth and began carefully cleaning the poison off the vorpal edge, smirking as the mage stammered at the sight of the blade.
"You aren't in any position to demand anything, you little ****, " she stated as she wagged the dagger at him disapprovingly. "You are gonna listen to this message and then I get to have some fun and if you..." she wagged the dagger to emphasis every syllabel as she spoke, "... do. not. ****. this. up. you. might. get. to. live. " Marcel opened his mouth to speak, but then shut it quickly and stared at her. "See, Adonias? They *can* be taught." Adonias held out his palm and Cirilia deposited the soiled cloth and the dagger flatly upon it. Adonias tossed the cloth into the forge and grabbed some tongs. Cirilia sat down next to the bed, grinning at the shocked mage, "Don't looks so surprised at your situation. You sort of brought this whole mess on yourself, ya know. You should never... *ever*... lie to Her. She hates lying... like ****... like hate hates it... like loathes it... "
"I didn't lie to her!" he blurted out.
"Hey! Listen up ****-for-brains! I wasn't done! ... like loathes it... like she'd probably be less upset if you stabbed her in the back and tried to *kill* her... rather than lie to her. So considering the depth of Her hatred... trust me... you are getting off with a slap on the proverbial wrist."
Adonias chuckled quietly as he held the dagger by the tongs and held it over the coals. "Seriously. You have no idea how light of a sentence this is for Her."
"Sentence? What sentence? WAIT! What's going to happen?!" he began to panic.
Cirilia tsked and wagged her finger at him. "All in good time. Let me read what she wants said and then we can answer that question. " She pulled out the folded up piece of paper and began to unfold it. "Now here's my rule in all this..." she said as she looked at him. There was no kindness in that gaze as her eyes locked on him, only a predatory darkness that hoped he would **** this up. "... every time you interrupt me is a second longer I'll make that upcoming punishment last. You might not think that a second is a long time... I promise you... it will seem much longer...." She smiled slightly at him watching his eyes intently. His eyes darted to the door and then back to her. Her smile broadened as she watched him and a light shiver danced over her skin, "Oh please. Please. *Do* try to run." The mage studied that predatory look in her eyes, "If you run... you die. Promise."
The mage settled his back against the wall and waited for whatever was on that horrible little paper. Cirilia cleared her throat dramatically and gave the paper a little shake. She raised her voice a bit higher, a distinctly more feminine sound as she started, "You have desecrated the virtue of honesty and lied personally to me. You sought to take advantage of my kindness and generosity under the banner of deceit and have put the good, honest citizens at risk with your behavior. You are no longer welcome on Verity Isle and you have twelve hours to gather any belongings and vacate. If you are found visiting, living or working in the future here, there will be ramifications that will make your final Death a mercy killing."
Adonias tested the heat of the blade against his finger, grinning as Cirilia continued, "For the act of lying to the me and endangering the lives of the citizens of our noble city, you will have your tongue permanently removed."
Marcel opened his mouth and blurted out, "... but this is all wrong!!!"
Cirilia held out a single finger as if to keep count as she continued, "Not only can you *not* be trusted to speak the truth, but someone who has such careless and reckless behavior should not have the ability to practice magic. Magic is a gift and you are no longer worthy of using it. If your tongue is found to be restored, it will be removed again with much less consideration for your health or comfort. If anyone have been foolish enough to employ your ineptitude, may this serve as a message to stay the **** off this island and to avoid annoying me." Cirilia began folding the paper neatly signifying she was finished.
Immediately the protests began as the mage pleaded for the fate of his lying tongue, "You can't do this to me! Please!! I'll do anything. Tell you whatever you want to know! The truth this time!"
"Too late. Now take your medicine like a man so you can learn from your mistakes. " she stood and turned towards him. Adonias tossed her a pair of thick heavy leather gloves which she put on. The protests had turned to sobbing, muttered complaints about how unfair all of this was.
Adonias strode over and dropped the pommel of the scalding hot dagger in her outstretched palm. He clicked the spiked end of the smithing tongs together, "Open up..."
Marcel's lips clamped shut at the command, hiding his precious tongue. Cirilia tsked, "You won't get asked a second time." His lips stayed sealed as if the act of defiance would thwart his destiny. Cirilia quickly darted out a hand and pressed the flat of the blade against his upper arm. The mage screamed in agony, opening his mouth to do so. Adonias used that moment to quickly grab hold of the man's tongue. He pulled hard on the doomed prisoner, stretching it painfully out of Marcel's mouth. The spike drew blood as it tested its hold against the thrashing man. Cirilia placed the sharp edge against the base of the outstretched tongue. The guttural wail intensified as she began to cut into the flesh. Blood spurted and flowed, splashing out of his mouth and onto his pants. The noxious and acrid smell of cooked meat filled the room as the hot steel burned the horrific wound closed as she cut. She looked down at his eyes as she continued to slide the blade up and down in a slow sawing motion. She said softly, elongating the word with a smile, "O...n....e....." He choked out a renewed yell and she pulled the blade quickly to her, cleaning severing the remainder. The stump was still leaching blood, but the hot metal had closed a majority of the wound.
As they both took a step back and watched him covered his mouth with both hands, sobbing. Cirilia spoke finally, "Now... Marcel. Now you can run. " He looked up at her with a look of hatred and pain. "Run Marcel. The clock is ticking and in twelve hours you better not still be here..." His eyes widened and immediately ran, half-stumbling towards the door and freedom.