Aurelianus Drak'shal
02-14-14, 05:15 PM
Closed to Lye and Philomel. 18+ only. Adult content.
"What 'appened?"
The bouncer shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, avoiding eye contact with his boss as he tried to think of a way to explain the situation without getting himself killed.. or worse - sent to the chambers everyone knew the boss kept deep in the bowels of the building for his own personal fun and games. The walls weren't thick enough to mask the screams that emerged from down there..
"Well, Russ was always a little sweet on the Akashimans and I know he'd bedded a few of them since they came in, but this little bitch saw a chance to try and make a run for it.. and she got the drop on him."
He gestured at the corpse on the floor, the broad-shouldered hulk of a Salvaran looking almost as if he were sleeping. Well, he would, if not for the knife protruding from his left eye socket. The guard swallowed thickly seeing the complete lack of emotion the bouncer's death caused their employer. As he stood there, idly twirling the titanium cane in his fingers, he might as well have been looking at a dead dog in the street. Though it was hard to tell with the boss' inhuman features. He held back a slight shudder of revulsion, still not sure what manner of devil now ruled the brothel. His gaze roamed around a little, spotting the same thoughts on the faces of the rest of the guards, as well as the whores who were permitted slightly more freedom from their chambers.
Aurelianus Drak'shal, the devil in question, glanced at the deader, stifling a sneer at the entire situation. He had only been in charge of the place for two weeks now, but already the brothel was proving to be an irritation in as many ways as it was a blessing. So many little problems cropping up that required his attention. Case in point, he thought with a grunt. Still, every night he made sure to personally.. train the girls in all manner of perversions and degenerate pleasures. The fact he would occasionally lose one or two when he got particularly in the mood didn't bother him in the slightest - his benefactor would always send more. Word was already spreading, and there were patrons both rich and poor emerging from the darkest corners of the city to come slake their most depraved thirsts under Aurelius' roof.
The House of Sin was officially open for business.
Running a hand through the crest of sharp quills running down the centre of his scalp, the tiefling turned to look at the scrawny little chit gripped in the brawny fists of a pair of bouncers. She looked scared, but only just. He slid closer to her, his movements fluid and graceful. He barely broke stride as he knelt to tug the keen-edged stiletto blade from his dead guard, his ophidian eyes never once leaving the scared chit's.
"So, you're the whore who thought she could fly my cage?" he asked, leaning in close and locking eyes with the girl. She spat in his face, but the half-demon didn't flinch. Instead, he smiled - it was every inch a predator's grin. Razor fangs glinted in the soft light coming from the iron braziers set around the foyer as his tongue slid out to clean the saliva from his alabaster cheek. The girl tried to turn away from him, but he forced the dark amethyst at the top of his cane under her chin, craning her face up to his. They were almost touching, but she never backed away. The Akashiman's almost almond-shaped eyes glared up at the tiefling, full of hate.
"Spirited, eh? I like that," he almost hissed, his voice soft and sharp-edged. "I'm goin' to enjoy breakin' you, luv."
"Go to Hell, you bastard!" she snapped, trying in vain to shake off the two men holding her.
"'Ave done," he chuckled, cocking his head to regard the whore. Pretty, but definitely shy of gorgeous; pale skin, marred by some dirt, her face almost hidden behind locks of sable hair; a slender body, leaning towards the too-skinny side after her weeks of travel from where the brothel's patron had collected her. In short, she was dime a dozen in the group Ulroké had sent in from Akashima. The word 'expendable' danced through Aurelianus' mind, and the warlock was on the verge of penning her in the dead-book then and there... when inspiration struck, and he decided she could still serve some purpose.
"Take 'er outside," he said, raising his voice so everyone could hear him clearly, "stick 'er in the stocks for a week. Any man that wants can 'ave her as many times as 'e likes. Post a pair of guards to make sure the sods don't start killin' each other over 'er arse. She can have a mouthful of water and a bite of bread for every twenty men she services."
He flicked his snake-like eyes to the girl, not even attempting to hide his delight at her obvious horrified revulsion.
"But before you go, luv, we 'ave to make sure you don't get 'urt takin' all those pikes. 'Ere, let me 'elp loosen you up a little," he smiled almost kindly.
The half-demon moved almost faster than anyone present could follow, the slender stiletto ramming up between her thighs and deep inside her. Drak'shal shuddered with lust seeing her eyes nearly bulge out of her skull, her shrieks struggling to tear free from her throat as her mind failed to function under the sheer amount of pain he could almost taste in her. He whipped the blade out and twice more it found its mark in her before he dropped it at his feet. The guards, recovering quickly from their own shock, dragged her away to carry out their orders. If they felt any pity for the Akashiman, they knew better than to show it in front of the half-breed sadist.
Running his forked tongue over his fangs and forcing his lusts down with sheer willpower, Aurelius turned to the rest of the gathering, making sure to meet the gaze of everyone present, guard and whore alike.
"Now, I 'ope no-one else is goin' to try anythin' this barmy again. I'd 'ate to really 'ave to start punishin' you. Any chit tries to escape me, she gets a week in the stocks if I'm feelin' generous. Any bloke tries to cross me, 'e gets two - we know the locals ain't fussy what they stick their pikes in. And for those of you who really piss me off.. well, I'll deal with you myself in the pain chambers, and in a way I can only describe as deeply pornographic, you'll be killed. Consider that your one and only warnin'."
Someone had once written 'respect has to be earned over time, and is a fickle beast, but fear is instant and eternal, if you want it to be.' Aurelianus nodded to himself in agreement with the sentiment, and dismissed the crowd with a lazy wave of his hand. They disappeared, wandering back to their chambers or their tasks in small groups, muttering quietly amongst themselves. Scratching one of the hydra tattoos on his head with the tip of his cane, Aurelius turned to the remaining bouncer, the poor sod picked to deliver him the bad news in the first place.
"Take the deader downstairs, dump 'im in the furnace," he snarled, his patience waning.
The bouncer hesitated for a moment, his voice croaking out from a throat that was suddenly dry.
"What did you say, cutter?" Aurelianus asked entirely too calmly for the guard's liking, like a snake about to strike. Coiled, that was the word he was looking for. The base of the plane-touched's cane tapped gently against his hobnailed boot.
"I.. I said he had a wife, boss.. maybe we sho--"
"Did I pikin' stutter? 'e's in the dead-book, an' bleedin' all over my soddin' carpet. Burn 'im."
The man nodded, avoiding eye contact like the plague as he went about his appointed task. The half-breed brothel-master turned away, making for the stairs up to his office when something darted at him from that direction.
In the firelight, the thing looked rosy and pink, but Aurelius knew the thing's flesh was as pallid as a corpse. Junior glided down the stairs, landing smoothly on its master's shoulder and bringing its lipless gash of a mouth to his ear. Flapping its black wings in agitation, the familiar chittered to the warlock, squeaking out a rapid series of syllables in the tongue of the Nine Hells, needle teeth clicking together in a stacatto rhythm.
"Is that so?"
The Cager sighed to himself, seeing he wasn't getting a break any time soon. Resigned to the remainder of his day dragging on, Aurelius took out a hand-rolled cigarette from the silver case in his pocket, clamping it between his pale lips. He made his way up the winding stairs, lighting the tip as he went. On the third floor of the building, overlooking the main foyer below, sat the half-demon's office. It wasn't his usual lair in the House of Sin - the pain chambers below had that honour - but it was still deemed necessary for the malevolent serpent to have somewhere to conduct business. He shoved the door open, and strolled in, barely acknowledging the figure already in the room.
Blowing a stream of smoke from the corner of his mouth, Aurelianus crossed the room to the dark wooden desk. He ignored the three demonic faces emerging from the coiling green mist inside the mirror above the fireplace, and dumped himself down into an already scarred and torn leather armchair behind the desk; his armour wreaked havoc on any form of furniture. Propping his heavy boots up on the desk, the tiefling malcontent finally turned his gaze to the human standing before him.
"Well, I'd say I was pleased to see you, cutter, but sod the pleasantries. I imagine you're 'ere to check up on me, make sure I've been a good boy? Well, your slave stock ain't bad for a shag - one or two problems 'ere and there - but if you want to expand your eyes and ears in this neck of the woods, I need willin' recruits."
He smirked, taking the cigarette between two fingers as he fiddled with his cane. In a few seconds, he had separated it out into several pieces on the tabletop, sitting the almost-black crystal orb aside. From its mount, he extricated a silver chalice, before tilting the cane itself, allowing a steady stream of amber liquid to pour forth and fill the vessel. The man before him quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing else, simply observing the bizarre display. Aurelius was done in a moment, and finally settled back in his chair, a chalice of brandy held casually in one hand, his smoke in the other. As far as he was concerned, he looked every part the lord and master of his domain.
"But, enough of that, chief. What is it I can do for the infamous Lichensith Ulroké today?"
"What 'appened?"
The bouncer shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, avoiding eye contact with his boss as he tried to think of a way to explain the situation without getting himself killed.. or worse - sent to the chambers everyone knew the boss kept deep in the bowels of the building for his own personal fun and games. The walls weren't thick enough to mask the screams that emerged from down there..
"Well, Russ was always a little sweet on the Akashimans and I know he'd bedded a few of them since they came in, but this little bitch saw a chance to try and make a run for it.. and she got the drop on him."
He gestured at the corpse on the floor, the broad-shouldered hulk of a Salvaran looking almost as if he were sleeping. Well, he would, if not for the knife protruding from his left eye socket. The guard swallowed thickly seeing the complete lack of emotion the bouncer's death caused their employer. As he stood there, idly twirling the titanium cane in his fingers, he might as well have been looking at a dead dog in the street. Though it was hard to tell with the boss' inhuman features. He held back a slight shudder of revulsion, still not sure what manner of devil now ruled the brothel. His gaze roamed around a little, spotting the same thoughts on the faces of the rest of the guards, as well as the whores who were permitted slightly more freedom from their chambers.
Aurelianus Drak'shal, the devil in question, glanced at the deader, stifling a sneer at the entire situation. He had only been in charge of the place for two weeks now, but already the brothel was proving to be an irritation in as many ways as it was a blessing. So many little problems cropping up that required his attention. Case in point, he thought with a grunt. Still, every night he made sure to personally.. train the girls in all manner of perversions and degenerate pleasures. The fact he would occasionally lose one or two when he got particularly in the mood didn't bother him in the slightest - his benefactor would always send more. Word was already spreading, and there were patrons both rich and poor emerging from the darkest corners of the city to come slake their most depraved thirsts under Aurelius' roof.
The House of Sin was officially open for business.
Running a hand through the crest of sharp quills running down the centre of his scalp, the tiefling turned to look at the scrawny little chit gripped in the brawny fists of a pair of bouncers. She looked scared, but only just. He slid closer to her, his movements fluid and graceful. He barely broke stride as he knelt to tug the keen-edged stiletto blade from his dead guard, his ophidian eyes never once leaving the scared chit's.
"So, you're the whore who thought she could fly my cage?" he asked, leaning in close and locking eyes with the girl. She spat in his face, but the half-demon didn't flinch. Instead, he smiled - it was every inch a predator's grin. Razor fangs glinted in the soft light coming from the iron braziers set around the foyer as his tongue slid out to clean the saliva from his alabaster cheek. The girl tried to turn away from him, but he forced the dark amethyst at the top of his cane under her chin, craning her face up to his. They were almost touching, but she never backed away. The Akashiman's almost almond-shaped eyes glared up at the tiefling, full of hate.
"Spirited, eh? I like that," he almost hissed, his voice soft and sharp-edged. "I'm goin' to enjoy breakin' you, luv."
"Go to Hell, you bastard!" she snapped, trying in vain to shake off the two men holding her.
"'Ave done," he chuckled, cocking his head to regard the whore. Pretty, but definitely shy of gorgeous; pale skin, marred by some dirt, her face almost hidden behind locks of sable hair; a slender body, leaning towards the too-skinny side after her weeks of travel from where the brothel's patron had collected her. In short, she was dime a dozen in the group Ulroké had sent in from Akashima. The word 'expendable' danced through Aurelianus' mind, and the warlock was on the verge of penning her in the dead-book then and there... when inspiration struck, and he decided she could still serve some purpose.
"Take 'er outside," he said, raising his voice so everyone could hear him clearly, "stick 'er in the stocks for a week. Any man that wants can 'ave her as many times as 'e likes. Post a pair of guards to make sure the sods don't start killin' each other over 'er arse. She can have a mouthful of water and a bite of bread for every twenty men she services."
He flicked his snake-like eyes to the girl, not even attempting to hide his delight at her obvious horrified revulsion.
"But before you go, luv, we 'ave to make sure you don't get 'urt takin' all those pikes. 'Ere, let me 'elp loosen you up a little," he smiled almost kindly.
The half-demon moved almost faster than anyone present could follow, the slender stiletto ramming up between her thighs and deep inside her. Drak'shal shuddered with lust seeing her eyes nearly bulge out of her skull, her shrieks struggling to tear free from her throat as her mind failed to function under the sheer amount of pain he could almost taste in her. He whipped the blade out and twice more it found its mark in her before he dropped it at his feet. The guards, recovering quickly from their own shock, dragged her away to carry out their orders. If they felt any pity for the Akashiman, they knew better than to show it in front of the half-breed sadist.
Running his forked tongue over his fangs and forcing his lusts down with sheer willpower, Aurelius turned to the rest of the gathering, making sure to meet the gaze of everyone present, guard and whore alike.
"Now, I 'ope no-one else is goin' to try anythin' this barmy again. I'd 'ate to really 'ave to start punishin' you. Any chit tries to escape me, she gets a week in the stocks if I'm feelin' generous. Any bloke tries to cross me, 'e gets two - we know the locals ain't fussy what they stick their pikes in. And for those of you who really piss me off.. well, I'll deal with you myself in the pain chambers, and in a way I can only describe as deeply pornographic, you'll be killed. Consider that your one and only warnin'."
Someone had once written 'respect has to be earned over time, and is a fickle beast, but fear is instant and eternal, if you want it to be.' Aurelianus nodded to himself in agreement with the sentiment, and dismissed the crowd with a lazy wave of his hand. They disappeared, wandering back to their chambers or their tasks in small groups, muttering quietly amongst themselves. Scratching one of the hydra tattoos on his head with the tip of his cane, Aurelius turned to the remaining bouncer, the poor sod picked to deliver him the bad news in the first place.
"Take the deader downstairs, dump 'im in the furnace," he snarled, his patience waning.
The bouncer hesitated for a moment, his voice croaking out from a throat that was suddenly dry.
"What did you say, cutter?" Aurelianus asked entirely too calmly for the guard's liking, like a snake about to strike. Coiled, that was the word he was looking for. The base of the plane-touched's cane tapped gently against his hobnailed boot.
"I.. I said he had a wife, boss.. maybe we sho--"
"Did I pikin' stutter? 'e's in the dead-book, an' bleedin' all over my soddin' carpet. Burn 'im."
The man nodded, avoiding eye contact like the plague as he went about his appointed task. The half-breed brothel-master turned away, making for the stairs up to his office when something darted at him from that direction.
In the firelight, the thing looked rosy and pink, but Aurelius knew the thing's flesh was as pallid as a corpse. Junior glided down the stairs, landing smoothly on its master's shoulder and bringing its lipless gash of a mouth to his ear. Flapping its black wings in agitation, the familiar chittered to the warlock, squeaking out a rapid series of syllables in the tongue of the Nine Hells, needle teeth clicking together in a stacatto rhythm.
"Is that so?"
The Cager sighed to himself, seeing he wasn't getting a break any time soon. Resigned to the remainder of his day dragging on, Aurelius took out a hand-rolled cigarette from the silver case in his pocket, clamping it between his pale lips. He made his way up the winding stairs, lighting the tip as he went. On the third floor of the building, overlooking the main foyer below, sat the half-demon's office. It wasn't his usual lair in the House of Sin - the pain chambers below had that honour - but it was still deemed necessary for the malevolent serpent to have somewhere to conduct business. He shoved the door open, and strolled in, barely acknowledging the figure already in the room.
Blowing a stream of smoke from the corner of his mouth, Aurelianus crossed the room to the dark wooden desk. He ignored the three demonic faces emerging from the coiling green mist inside the mirror above the fireplace, and dumped himself down into an already scarred and torn leather armchair behind the desk; his armour wreaked havoc on any form of furniture. Propping his heavy boots up on the desk, the tiefling malcontent finally turned his gaze to the human standing before him.
"Well, I'd say I was pleased to see you, cutter, but sod the pleasantries. I imagine you're 'ere to check up on me, make sure I've been a good boy? Well, your slave stock ain't bad for a shag - one or two problems 'ere and there - but if you want to expand your eyes and ears in this neck of the woods, I need willin' recruits."
He smirked, taking the cigarette between two fingers as he fiddled with his cane. In a few seconds, he had separated it out into several pieces on the tabletop, sitting the almost-black crystal orb aside. From its mount, he extricated a silver chalice, before tilting the cane itself, allowing a steady stream of amber liquid to pour forth and fill the vessel. The man before him quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing else, simply observing the bizarre display. Aurelius was done in a moment, and finally settled back in his chair, a chalice of brandy held casually in one hand, his smoke in the other. As far as he was concerned, he looked every part the lord and master of his domain.
"But, enough of that, chief. What is it I can do for the infamous Lichensith Ulroké today?"