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| No title. |
| (2013-04-06 - 2013-04-09) |
| No description. |
| Ophelia | The sound of several armored boots fills the stone-wrought corridors as the small group makes their way down into the darkness. The narrow halls and winding stairwells amplify the sound, echoing it through the empty spaces until it their passage is almost indistinguishable to that of a small army. They number only six, however, arranged in single-file formation by necessity of the cramped design. Dungeons were never meant to be pleasant places, nor was this one. Stale air mixed with the pungent aroma of blood, sweat, and even more foul bodily fluids assails their nostrils as they step past the first of many sealed and barred gates, flooding outwards in a tide that causes the man in the middle of the group to choke and gag. Bound in heavy iron manacles and with his head covered in a dark shroud, Father Bouhr finds himself the newest visitor to the depths of the dark places below the main cathedral. Such secrecy was necessary for the work done here. Few had the stomach to understand the need for the methods of the Inquisition but none could deny their effectiveness. Most broken down simply upon learning where it was they were being taken, such is the power of rumor and fear that their order engenders and no one has seen fit to correct such wanton gossip. Fear had its uses even among the faithful. Among the faceless metal helms of the silent Templar, Ophelia stands out rather starkly. Her exotic oriental features marked her as the descendant of the eastern lands, a place where civilized faiths were shunned in favor of shamanism and spirit worship. That one of their kind was now leading a man down to be questioned for his beliefs was an irony that is not missed and more than a few sidelong glances are shared behind her back as they work slowly but inexorably towards the chambers alotted for questioning the heretic and the unfaithful. |
| Count Valos | The priest was, and may yet still be enabled to reclaim the title of being a man of the cloth, but for now, the only cloth he had were his clothes, as well as a veil preventing him from being able to see the environs. He could smell the rancid odors quite well as anyone else, for the shroud didn't impede his ability to smell, and he already knew where he was located, from rumor alone. Upon reaching the chamber where he was to be questioned, they didn't bother to remove the fabric blocking his sight, or the chains, because that was for Ophelia to do, being the highest on the totem pole within their little band. One of the lesser ranked chaperones grabs Father Bouhr by the arm and tugs him forward, which indicates to him that he's to be confined to the quarters while Ophelia does her 'dirty' work. After entering, the minion leads him to the far wall, and lifts the priest's hands upwards, where they can be attached to a mounted metal panel above his head, so that his ability to provide resistance is minimal- being connected by shackles to the wall assures he won't try to run, during the course of the interrogation; it also negates the need for a set of leg-irons by which to prevent him from eluding Ophelia, if she sees fit to administer dastardly abuses on his body, which would definitely encourage the normal being to try and maneuver out of harm's way to avoid incoming accosts. So far, he's tried to remain quiet in spite of what's occurring, but the guard could tell their prisoner was nervous from the mild shaking felt while affixing his wrists to the wall. He exits the room, and allows Ophelia to trek hither, after which she may elect to invite the others to observe, or merely insist they stand guard outside the room, in case Father Bouhr tries any stunts that, miraculously allow him to subdue Ophelia in some capacity; given the inquisitor's legendary skills, as well as her unusually superhuman strength, this was a dubious contingency, but Glabados is taking no chances. |
| Ophelia | The guards go about their work in silence, saying not a word to either the prisoner or each other even as the heavy iron door grinds noisly on its hinges and slams shut with a resounding crash, leaving only the Inquisitor and her guest for the evening in the room. Though he cannot see what the evening has in store for him, the cell to which he has been assigned is fairly sizable in order to accomodate the various implements of torture that fills its dank interior. Crafted of both wood and metal, each of the devices assembled is design both in form and function to be terrifying. Long racks line the far wall, alongside shelves and cabinets filled with deadly instruments. Dozens of blades, curved and serrated lie amidst thumb screws, claw hammers, and hand-cranked drills. Most of them are coated with a faint patina of dried blood, clearly laid out in the open to be seen by the occupant. An iron maiden sits noticably open at the other end of the chamber, it's dozens of wicked spikes shining dully in the faint blaze of the torches that line the wall in sconces amid the various shackles and chains. Everything here serves a purpose, adding to the atmosphere of threat and severity, as did the silence that accompanied them on the way down. Let him sweat, let his imagination do all of the work for them, and when the time comes he will beg to tell them everything. Atleast, that was the gist of it. Ophelia, however, was not the sort to lean on such subtle methods. Given the chance, she would make use of every single tool down here. She wanted to see this man suffer, wanted to hear his screams as his body writhed under the unrelenting touch of metal. But she knew also that this was one of her main failings as a human being, the tip of the boot wedged into the doorway that held the slumber beast at bay in her soul. The presence of her master was noticably heavy in the air and she took a moment to calm herself now that the time was upon her to act. This was a test, both of her skill at manipulating the information she sought out of this man and maintaining her cover as a skilled interrogator and at keeping her bloody urges in check. Alexander was not here in person but she could feel him poking at the corners of her mind through the bond they shared. He would be watching, judging. Ophelia frowns at the thought of being under such scrutiny but there is little to be done. Turning to the prisoner, she exhales and with a single motion, rips the cloth away from his face. She says nothing at first, giving his eyes time to adjust so that they may take in the surroundings and her neutral but condemning gaze. |
| Count Valos | When the cloth is torn away from Father Bouhr's face, he stands testament to all the wicked contraptions that are contained within the room where he's found himself. A minor convenience, the priest is actually physically standing, as well, because of his position, so that he can't curl up into a more defensive, balled-up position to -try- and avoid any sort of bombardments on his person. Every body-part is accessible from head to toe, barring the clothing that covers him, a meagerly thin barrier serving to protect him from the weather, and yet.... not from being able to weather what is to come, most likely! He shivers a bit more when he gazes at the instruments within this orchestra of torment, waiting to come to life, and then looks back at Ophelia, who says nothing. Bouhr is experiencing a high degree of anxiety as he lightly yanks at the chains confining him to the wall, unconsciously giving them a tug of defiance propagated from fear, for his muscles tighten naturally, and this creates enough tension that he feels compelled to try and liberate himself; all to no avail, of course! Some of the tools have been sanitized, and some have not- the reason being that blood was composed of liquid, and ultimately water.... water could rust iron, over time. The crimson stains that are left behind are more often than not for intimidation purposes, so that prospective victims don't try to fool themselves into thinking that a dire future does not await them, for these mechanisms of evil have been used, at certain times, and will continue to be utilized as is deemed necessary by the inquisitor, who is feeling a bit unsettled on her own behalf, given that she's having to combat the compulsions to let free whatever devils exist in her mind, hoping to manifest themselves in a physical way, by guiding Ophelia's hands to inflict grievous injury on Father Bouhr. "I.... I don't know what you all want from me. When they arrested me, I had no clue why, and....and.... I don't want any trouble." Stammering a little bit, he hopes the vampiric(unbeknownst to him) retainer will take his word for it, for his inflection epitomizes a man telling what he believes to be, the truth, combined with fright brought on by concerns of what lies in store for him, should he test the patience of Ophelia; if he isn't convincing, he might be forced to traverse a worse road than what he walks at the very moment where he tries to petition verbally. The question may end up being whether Father Bouhr speaks truly, or if Gidarch Valos speaks truly, if it turns out that their two confessions conflict. |
| Ophelia | Ophelia calmly turns away from the cowering man as he begins to throw out his denials almost immediately. Though this is the first time she is officially interrogating someone on behalf of the Church, her own sadistic proclivities have been honed over many years. When one has enough money at their disposal, people can be persuaded not to ask questions. The dark cloth that covered Father Bouhr's head is set atop one of the small tables, fitting it in a small gap that seems to have been left just for it. The illusion of meticulous care given to every small detail projects an aura of psychopathic obsession, indicating to her prisoner that every little piece of the puzzle that looms before them will fit properly before she is finished. Nothing will be out of place before he is allowed to leave. "Father Bouhr," she says without preamble. "It has come to our attention that you may have been party to certain plots and dealings of a treasonous nature." Her hands glide amongst the instruments and tools, adjusting them and tilting them minutely so that they all line up nice and proper on their trays. Her tone is casual, as if this were a leisurely chat they were having on a warm sunny afternoon and not an interrogation within the depths of a dungeon that many do not know exists. She gives him only that barest hint of information as to the reasons for his incarceration, allowing his mind to process what that means. The obvious reaction will be to deny such involvements. It will be up to her to determine the truth of these claims. |
| Count Valos | Father Bouhr can see that they're keeping a close eye on what they're doing, though it strikes him as strange that they'd go to such lengths as to bother with placing the hood he wore into a compartment, while leaving some of the mechanisms of pain uncleaned- seemingly deliberately selective. On the other hand, his mind is racing awfully fast as he tries to make sense out of what's transpired, so he doesn't have enough focus to deduce that this isn't just a room full of weapons, but that he's getting a song and dance to set the mood.... he figures this is the genuine article, for the time being. All the same, he listens to Ophelia disclose some of the details behind the mandate for his presence in the torture chamber, and he strains against the chains once more, his motions emphasizing the severity of his heartfelt pleas, since he can't wave his arms around like a panicked person might do, if they were able to articulate the validity of his claims through physical gesture, "I don't even know what kinds of things I've been accused of! I can't admit to anything if I don't know what that stuff is, but all I've done is propose reform, nothing illegal....." He frowns, feeling that an injustice has been done, but in spite of this, he has few options but to explain his side of the story. Ophelia's lack of immediate questioning has him further wondering why they haven't gone all-out in their effort to find out what he knows, instead of these time-consuming preliminaries- he wants to be absolved as soon as possible, so that they can find out who the true culprit is, behind this evil ruse! |
| Ophelia | "Mmm, yes. Your suggestions have raised many questions but that is not why you are here this evening." Ophelia turns away from the array of cutting tools and clasps her hands behind her back in military fashion, stalking over to the bound man to stare at him with a carefully neutral and business-like expression . Despite her best attempts, however, the faint hint of dark menace leaks into her eyes and her voice. Unlike the templar whom all dress alike in their subservience to the greater good, the crimson of her ornate armor glistens coldly like the surface of wet blood. An undercoat of diamond-shaped black scales clings tightly to her chest and arms, emulating the skin of some great reptile and combined with the leering faces wrought in golden gild-work punctuated with viscious curved horns that jut out as blade-like protrusions from her shoulders, she gives off a subtle but noticably demonic appearance. "The reason, Father Bouhr, that you find yourself at my mercy, or lack thereof, is because a man was brought before us recently. This man was a heretic, clearly insane or irrevocably foolish in his beliefs. However, before we finished with him, he made certain claims in reference to incidents which have occured recently. Incidents which allowed the escape of very high profile targets relevant to the Church's interests. An escape, he claimed, that was facilitated by you - or, to be more specific, by your interference." |
| Count Valos | Father Bouhr blinks, confusedly, as Ophelia gives her recounting of the situation at hand, in some detail; there is still much that's left unspoken, because there haven't been specifics attributed to certain elements of the story, such as his accuser's name, but nonetheless, he barks, "How outrageous! Who is this person who has slandered my name? They must be part of the plot, and they're trying to shift the blame by implicating me!" He shakes his head, "Oh.... I know who you mean!" He growls, "That dark elf.... you all would give his words more credit than mine?" The priest elaborates, "I heard that some kind of dark-skinned looney was taken into custody, and that he was fairly high-statured.... there aren't too many of those running around here. I can't believe you actually would take him seriously!?" He pulls against the chains angrily, for the moment, less scared, despite the fact that Ophelia's outward appearance is on the creepy side, as far as human standards were concerned; a demon might find familiarity in her insidious visage to be comforting, on an unconscious level, but for Father Bouhr, it's unsettling, even if, at the present instant, his fear has given way to indignation. His ability to 'guess' the identity of his accuser could either be incriminating, or carry with it a potential for acquittal, since it's up to Ophelia to determine the nature of his intuitiveness; either Father Bouhr -did- do what he was accused of, which has given rise to his uncanny power of conjuring up the individual who is involved, /or/, he's extrapolating as best as he can in his relentless attempt to clear his name, in the hopes that he can dismantle the opposing assertions tarnishing his reputation, and has enough of an intuition to've done the math on his own. There's also the matter of Ophelia's personal desires coming into play despite how truthful she finds his counter-claim to be, with the believability she might normally afford the minister to plausibly end up being suspended temporarily if she's too bloodthirsty to deny her cravings, that could factor into the equation. It's now become obvious that Count Valos' credibility has been thrown into question, in any case, with Father Bouhr's argument that he believes a 'dark elf' to be responsible for his predicament..... but is this something Ophelia would bother to confirm, or is this something that's besides the point? |
| Ophelia | Ophelia's gaze remains implacable as the priest barks his cries of outrage. She knew this was coming. Innocent or not, any attempt to escape blame would be explored in an attempt to slither out from under the thumb of justice and the looming threat of hideous torture. Her hand lifts into the air and a sharp crack rings out as she drives the boney protrustions of her knuckles into the man's mouth and nose. Cartlidge and teeth buckle beneath her astoundingly powerful strike and a gout of dark arterial blood explodes from his nostrils as she pulls away her fist with a scowl. "Your lack of humility in this situation is most distressing, /Father/ Bouhr. Credit shall be given where it is due. Even heretics are capable of telling the truth and until I am satisfied that truth is what you speak, then your word shall be given no greater weight than that of your accuser." The vampire glances down at her hand, taking note of the bright red fluid that stains her fingers. The assault had not even managed to break her skin which meant that every last drop of blood belonged to the man before her. She fights down an urge to bring the sweet fluid to her lips, to lick away every last drop and savor the sharp tang of the coppery taste, sliding the hand behind her back once more with some effort. "Now then. Let us review the facts, which you may or may not be aware of. Our holy order had the chance to apprehend the heinous heretic and criminal Ramza Beoulve. However, upon attempting to do just that we learned that he had been given warning of these plans; plans that had been known to only a select few, among which, your name resides." Ophelia begins to pace back and forth before the man, walking a short but steady oval over and over as she articulates her information with the occasional gesture of her hand or nod of her head. "The individual who delivered this warning was apprehended and, as has been mentioned, claimed that this warning was delivered at your behest." |
| Count Valos | Father Bouhr sees the punch coming, but is unable to do very much to soften the blow- he does jostle his face to angle slightly away from the strike, but it still only has so much impetus, and as Ophelia plants her fist into his face, he yelps, spitting up red fluids as he tries to maintain some dignity. Unable to nurse his battered face, he groans while his body shudders, mayhap not as of yet on the brink of tears flowing, but if the mistreatment persists, there may be some loftier expressions of anguish to be uttered by the immobilized priest. "W....what.... do you want me to say?" He spits up a little more blood, "....I don't know of this plot." He grunts, head drooping down as he loses some of the robustness and determination he had seconds before, in the wake of the suffering that he feels as a result of the inquisitor's clobbering. "I-If.... you hurt me enough, you already know I'll eventually agree that I did...did it,... regardless of the reality...." He snorts a little bit, trying to stop the bleeding with his nasal muscles, since he can't manually stop the flow with his hand, by way of a handkerchief. "I can't.... tell you anything more, other than that I.... I... don't.... know why I'm being blamed." Again, his words seem genuine, but right now, it's his word against Valos', and with Ophelia having not been present for the interrogation Faruja held over the drow, only her imagination, combined with her reviewal of the facts given, will empower her to make a decision on who speaks truly. "If.... my word won't be given any more value than Count Valos', then why isn't he being subjected to this kind of treatment?" He queries- after all, one from the order of the priesthood being regarded so harshly might have one wondering why a 'heretic' would be shown more mercy. Then again, is it possible that the nobleman is receiving the same treatment at this very minute? Probably not, since it would be useless, in his case, but anything was possible. |
| Ophelia | "Perhaps you should be more worried about your own welfare, Father Bouhr. The methods used to extract this information from your accuser are irrelevant as are your attempts to misdirect the purpose of these questions." Ophelia completes another of her circuits and continues to walk, again moving over to the table containing the only clean instruments in the room to fiddle with them idly. "I am fully aware that pain can create truth were none exists, likely even more so than yourself, I'd wager. However, if a confession is all that interested me, I would not have bothered wasting my breath with this pleasant conversation." "There are so many ways to inflict harm upon a man," Ophelia continues, her hand lingering over each wicked tool as she allows her gaze to drift from the shining metal to the bloodied face of the priest, clearly making a show of which one to select. "Some tools are subtle, leaving very few traces for those who do not know where to look. Some leave nothing but ruined masses of pulped flesh, shredded tendons, and shattered bones." She walks down the length of the table, lingering only long enough to let the man sweat as she considers each impliment of torture and pain, before she moves on to the next. However, it is not one of these viscious tools that she finally snatches up, but a plain envelope with a broken seal sitting at the far end of the table. Ophelia smiles with something akin to amusement at her own little mind game, holding the small folded piece of parchment up for him to see. "And some simply damn a man with their very existence." |
| Count Valos | The priest watches as Ophelia strolls back and forth, until she adjourns to the table that lodges just some of the available media through which the inquisitor might be able to 'force' the truth out of Father Bouhr. Spying her movements closely, he observes as she plucks an envelope into the air, which, even from his location, can be seen to bear some manner of a seal on it- a seal originating from the clergy, most likely. Astonished at this, his mouth opened up somewhat, trying to theorize as to what might be inscribed on the parchment, and defensively, he blurts out almost immediately, "If that has my seal on it..... someone could've duplicated it!" Which is unlikely, given how much effort it takes to reproduce the stamp, but then he exclaims yet another possibility, "....Or stolen it, temporarily..... What does that letter say on it? Who does it belong to?" He leans forward as much as he can, in futility- hoping to try and get a better glimpse of the letter's contents, which is an impossible feat from where he's located, "There are people in our midst who aren't above framing others, in every orchard there's a bad apple! There are people who've already vetoed some of my past proposals, it could've been one of them!" He declares, as though he already counted on the piece of paper being an 'exhibit' which undoubtedly condemned him as the instigator of the foiled ambush. |
| Ophelia | The sudden surge of panic and denial only deepens Ophelia's smile, giving her exotic features a truly wicked cast, however she ensures that her lips remain firmly pressed together to avoid revealing her own secret - for the time being. Much rests on her ability to extract the truth from this man, guilt or innocence. Any common thug could simply beat a confession out of him and in all likelyhood handing him over in such a state would cast doubt on the validity of any such 'truth'. No, she needs him to confess his guilt, if it exists. There was one fool-proof manner in which she could go about this but the method ran afoul of the risk of revealing her own cursed nature. Truth, it seems, resides in the blood. A man could lie to his friends, to his family, and even to himself, but within his veins resided the memories and experiences of a lifetime; experiences that one such as herself could tap into. This is her last resort, however. The markings of her feeding would be difficult to explain and even more difficult to hide but she was fairly confident it could be done if it came down to that. Sweating the answers out of him is more fun and less conspicuous for the time being. "Yes, these are both possibilities that have been considered, which is yet another reason why you are answering to me and not the Lord." She sets the letter back down on the table without explaining its contents to him. "But as you say, there are bad apples in every orchard." Ophelia leans in close and inhales dramatically, letting the sharp scent of his sweat invade her senses. "You smell of fear, Father." She hisses at him in a low menacing tone, her dark crimson eyes boring holes into his own. "Do you not have faith in the judgement of the servants of our Lord? Do you doubt that divine justice shall be carried out here... or is it that you fear that is exactly what will happen?" |
| Count Valos | Father Bouhr keeps his eyes trained on the letter, for a few moments, but has no knowledge of her ability to siphon memories from his mind, if they even exist- the chances are, this priest doesn't have as strong a resistance to mental tampering as some individuals, even though the holy order are supposed to be equipped to deal with the unholiest of undead..... but in truth, few men of the cloth, and even numerous paladins have scarcely crossed paths with a full-fledged vampire; wights, zombies.... and dhampirs were the worst that many ever encountered. Yes, some received 'training' on how to counter the effects of the mental trespasses that the grander pedigrees of undead have appropriated into their skill-set, but their acquisition of the aforementioned powers were artificial, and therefore, weak, when contrasted against the masteries of vampires, in regards to mind bending, or piercing. Real-life experience in ejecting invasive probations by true vampires was exceedingly rare, and thus.... not many could defend against these kinds of assaults. But what if Ophelia were to scan his memories- only to find that he was innocent, albeit, without finding out who was responsible, even so? What would her recourse be? "I smell of fear.... because you socked me in the face! If there is justice, and undeniably so, then I wouldn't be in this putrid prison, being roughed up like some common street urchin!" He sneers, ".....Then again, maybe this is just a test of my faith, though, and upon being proven innocent, I'll see the likes of those who've wronged me to face tenfold what I've endured thus far!" Which insinuates that Ophelia herself may be amongst those who are to be punished- but since he didn't name anyone in particular, it's unknown who Father Bouhr feels is rightfully deserving of some old-fashioned abuse, not dissimilar from what he's had to put up with, even if he's just touched upon the tip of the iceberg of what could be in store for him, if he's unfortunate. |
| Ophelia | The sneer is met with a wry smirk from the young woman. Her hand goes to his face again but this time she cups his cheek with a gentle caress. "I would like nothing more than to see your innocence proven, Father. The thought that one our beloved flock has strayed from the path of righteousness is a thorn in my heart, a wound that will ooze with a foul ichor until it is plucked free and the taint washed away with the light of truth." She wipes some of the blood away from his nose, taking great pains to gentle but at the same time, making sure to disturb the broken bridge in such as way as to send pain shooting through the damaged and likely still sensitive nerves. "Alas, my feelings in this matter are irrelevant. It is my sworn duty as a seeker of evil and a hunter of lies to root out the truth and drag it screaming into the light, no matter how hideous it may be." She gives him a faint sigh and turns away, once more resuming her cold military demeanor. "So, if we are to consider every possibility, no matter how disturbing, there must be some motive that guided you. So reason for you to cast aside vow and honor, to betray your fellow men of the cloth and put lives needlessly into harm's way." She moves back over to the table, this time hopping up onto it and taking a seat. Her legs cross slowly and deliberately, drawing attention to the rustle of ornate silk that is all that stands between him and a view of her shapely hips. If fear is not his weakness then perhaps temptation can draw out the sin lurking within. "You mentioned that your proposals have been vetoed in the past. Perhaps you felt that by drawing doubt upon those who currently lead the Lord's flock upon this earthly plane, you could create an opportunity to promote your own views." |
| Count Valos | Father Bouhr blinks as Ophelia offers a soft touch to his face, then assures him that she's interested in his welfare, despite the fact that a minute or so earlier, she'd just pummeled his face, and said he was to be given no credit transcending that which Valos received. Ophelia had to be the strangest interrogator he'd ever met, and at this point, he couldn't even figure out what her game was- perhaps she was doing double-duty by playing both good cop and bad cop despite being a singular person? He did imagine she had some kind of scheme up her sleeve, but her bag-of-tricks' contents were beyond his scope, by a great deal. "To prove my innocence, we just need to find out what that drow is up to!" Since it's his theory that the dark one was responsible for all of this, somehow. If Ophelia truly was concerned with the priest's welfare, then wouldn't she be eager to investigate the dark elf, more than she does Father Bouhr himself? He winces when she touches his nose, which stings when it receives stimulus, since he wasn't in a state of pure rage, enough to generate the adrenaline needed to dull pain, he's been confined to the wall, so he's been subject to more fear than anger; though fear can also cause a cushioning of agonizing sensations, the inquisitor's push and pull strategy has managed to keep him from reaching a point where he could experience the kind of emotional extreme needed to bypass the suffering that he's currently experiencing. Father Bouhr is puzzled, when she asks him what his motives are, but he says nothing, since he believes himself to be innocent, and has no understanding of how he could give her a satisfactory answer unless he actually 'invented' something to appease her line of hypothesizing. On the other hand, the preacher was far from immune to fear, which was precisely why he informed Ophelia that if she tormented him enough, that she would get a confession, true or false- it was his hope that she wouldn't actually go to these lengths to expose him to such anguish, by trying to appeal to her reason. No matter what she wanted, she'd either get a confession, or lack of one.... but if she was convinced that a confession was the only real way for Father Bouhr to escape the predicament he was in, then it would probably come down to what he didn't want to have to endure. Ophelia's physique is an alluring one in many respects, and yet..... because minister Bouhr was still in a frightful frame of mind, he wasn't exactly able to appreciate her ravishing appearance in a way that it truly deserved. "It could've been that..... it could've been munny..... it could've been because some temptress seduced me...... it could've been a thousand things that normally provoke a propensity towards treasonous actions, but what would make any one of these possibilities more likely than the other? I've been loyal for all my years, and as far as I know, this has never changed. Now suddenly I'm being persecuted, despite my track record! It sounds like the verdict is already decided, so the only thing left to do is for you to threaten me with unbearable pain in order to get me to come up with a blueprint that resembles a digestible confession, and there's no real sense in discussing this, since I'm ignorant to the truth behind all of this....." He frowns, "You tell me what you want me to say, and I'll repeat it back to you, and you'll have your confession. Will that make you happy?" |
| Ophelia | "Your insinuation that I am interested in anything but the truth is quite disrespectful, Father Bouhr." Ophelia's legs uncross and recross in the opposite direction, again drawing attention to the motion with the obvious care that she takes about what most might consider restless fidgetting. She continues to smile at him but his stubborn attempts to prove innocence through circumstantial hypothesis is becoming rather frustrating. "Not to mention any such obviously fake confession would be brought to light upon the true culprit's discovery, should you truly be innocent. I've no desire to stain myself with such obvious lies." She shrugs at him. "Alas, it seems we have come to an impasse. You insist upon your innocence and I simply cannot take your word for it while so many sources of evidence implicate your guilt." The woman gets to her feet again and takes up one of the metal blades from the tray without bothering to look and see which one slides into her lithe fingers. It doesn't matter to her, all she needs is one final push to try and scare something out of him, some hint of his guilt. Failing that, it will be time to fall back on her own unique form of questioning. Ophelia strides over to the chained up man and lifts the slender knife up where he can see it, twirling it deftly between her fingers like some sort of circus performer. Her smile remains fixed on him, a predatory gleam in her eyes as she speaks in low threatening tones. "Unfortunately for you, Father Bouhr, we will not be leaving this room until I am satisfied." |
| Count Valos | Father Bouhr looks nervously at Ophelia, "If you're only interested in the truth, but you don't like what I have to say, then what you're interested in is something that you'll never get, because you can't see the truth when it's right in front of you!" he barks, until she picks up the metal blade, "....You know what I think? I think you're just looking for an excuse to torture me. You don't really care about the truth, because no matter what I say, you won't like it, and that'll give you the reason you need to inflict grievous harm on me, until I'm able to come up with something that makes you happy, for my lack of ability to read your mind to give you what you want. That's all you care about.... hearing what you want, not what's true!" he scowls, and shakes his head, "This is a farce. You planned to torture me from the start, with no regard for the truth, so here's my confession." He nods, "You're right! I wanted to undermine the integrity of my commanders so that they'd look stupid, and so that my wishes to have harsher policies of transparency implemented to prevent similar tragedies from happening again, to the whole failure to apprehend Ramza!" He yanks against his chains, "I am guilty! I am evil! I was only looking out for myself the entire time, and everything that has happened is totally my fault, and I've just been lying to everybody." He turns his head away from Ophelia, "Now start torturing me mercilessly, and make me scream, you sadistic, bloodthirsty monster- that's why you're in this line of work, because this gives you an opportunity to subject people to intolerable pain, to make you feel powerful! Because, the only way you'll leave this room satisfied is if you feel like you're tougher than me, and that you can make me dance to your tune...." He wrinkles his nose, which still feels a sting from the original injury induced from Ophelia's punch, "Although it's impossible for me to actually do any dancing, because I'm chained up like this, for that very same reason.... my immobility makes you tougher than I am, since you have a full range of motion at your disposal. You are a sick, weak-willed fiend who is using the trust Glabados has put into you as a conduit to make yourself feel special..... that's all you are." The priest shoots his gaze back at her, "Now that I've insulted you, you have every reason to inflict egregious harm on me to get what you truly want out of me. It's personal now, so you have no reason to hold back, not that you have any regard for the lives of anyone besides yourself, anyway, you self-centered heathen!" |
| Ophelia | Ophelia stares quietly at the prisoner as he vents his fear and frustration at her, taking every insult to her character and accusation of evil and twisted motivations without the slightest hint of anger or indignation. It seems quite strange to her that the man somehow believes that by confessing his situation will grow less dire. Admission to being a heretic who has broken his oaths to the church and Lord is quite damning and, worse yet, she now has all the reasons she needs to get whatever sadistic joy he suspects she might from his torture. The Inquisitor leans forward, once more putting her face in close proxmity to his. "Well, I certainly should thank you for giving me such freedom in your treatment. Certainly the guards outside have heard your rather loud admission of guilt. However..." She smiles darkly. "I do not believe you. Now that you have chosen to play the role that I wished for you, however, I need but one more thing from you. A scream, if you please." The woman's hand moves in a flash and the blade bites into Father Bouhr's shoulder near the neck. Blood gushes forth from the gash as she drives it completely through a small chunk of flesh but Ophelia takes great care not to hit the vital vein that lies in his neck. She doesn't need or infact want him dead. All she needed was an excuse for the wound that will marr his flesh. |
| Count Valos | Father Bouhr does let out a yell that conveys incredible pain, and it's nothing less than he expected. After she finishes her initial slash, the priest cries out, spouting random gibberish to try to convince her that something he says is true, even though he has no expectation that anything he says, no matter how realistic or fallacious, will give her what she wants, "GRAHHH!! You vile coward! You child-minded miscreant!" He cranes his neck awkwardly to the side, trying to nurse the wound as best he can, with a lack of mobile limbs to do a more efficient job, "The reason I betrayed the church was to get them to all think I was a hero for exposing the incompetence of the upper ranks! I wanted to look important, and special, and insightful!" He doesn't expect that this will please her, but he feels nothing he says will find purchase, in any case, even so, a sliver of hope remains that causes him to relay a testimony that sounds close to what Ophelia craves, in that maybe it'll dissuade her from continuing with her assault. However, soon enough, he'll probably lose that, along with his sanity, and begin engaging in free-association, which will result in all manner of inconceivable gibberish; when that occurs, Ophelia will never get anything true out of him, since he probably won't even be able to think rationally enough to give her an accurate retelling of his side of things- it's possible he already has, but it's dubious that it makes any difference at all what he says or does..... Ophelia's mind was probably already made up before she even entered the room, as far as what she was going to do, and Father Bouhr had prayed for otherwise, but as the situation develops, it could become rapidly clear in the mind of a more experienced onlooker, that his torturer has an superiority-complex. Just perhaps.... one that requires ego-gratification to help her attain the kind of stimulation that she needs to reach a state of euphoria; she would not settle for anything short of the need to feel in control, to assuage her own fear that maybe, perhaps, deep inside, she was not as powerful as she wanted to believe she was- for those who have no weaknesses, have no predators, whether age, bacterial infection, or their own kind, and those who have no predators, have no fear.... those who have no fear, have no reason to despise anything, for nothing can cause them pain or death; but has an entity of such magnificent power even existed, at any point in time? Most in the church would assert that type of capability is reserved only for Faram. On the other hand, Father Bouhr is no psychologist versed in studies of humankind, and has /no/ idea what schadenfreude is, let alone what insecurities cause it, or its principal roots in one's potential life-experiences..... All he has is a very primitive understanding behind why Ophelia likes to hurt others, and that is probably the extent of his knowledge. The priest is far from a wise-man, and because of this.... he won't be able to do much to lessen the physical pain he experiences, or the negative feelings that amplify the mortifying elements of the ordeal. Obviously, if the inquisitor employs other means of data-extraction, he likely won't be able to resist that, either! Right now.... it's clear that Ophelia is doing a good job causing him both pain and fear, because his body tremors due to both anxiety over what could be in his future, and what he already feels at the present moment. |
| Ophelia | Ophelia soaks up the pain and fear that explodes from her victim with sadistic glee, seeming to confirm all of his suspicions about her cruel and evil nature. Her pupils narrow as she giggles darkly, twisting the knife back and forth in the flesh with subtle motions designed to cause the most agony without leaving lasting injury. Torture was an art form and those who have mastered it know that care must be taken to prevent their subjects from being pushed too hard or too far. "Thank you, Father Bouhr. That should prove quite adequate. " The blade is pulled free and tossed aside carelessly, clattering on the stone floor and leaving tiny droplets of blood spattered in a chaotic pattern. Even as she moves to continue her plan, Ophelia feels the cold disapproval of her master's emotion flooding through her mind, questioning the necessity of this. But it does not take but a moment for her to quell his doubts. He knows as well as she does that this is the only way to deal with the stubborn priest. "Do not worry," she whispers seemingly to herself, "I will take care not to be caught." Ophelia grabs the man's head between both of her hands and jerks it up so that she is face to face with him. Her grip is like steel, brooking no resistance from Father Bouhr as she opens her slanted eyes wide and locks their gaze with is own. A wave of intense pressure radiates out from her mind as she opens up the gates to her unholy powers, invading the mortal's thoughts with overwhelming authority. Her irises begin to glow with an unearthly light and she smiles at him devilishly. "Be at ease. Heed my voice! Everything from this moment forward shall be gone from your mind. Sleep and forget. This I command!" Her voice is enchanting and forceful at the same time, digging into his mind like writhing tendrils and implanting the suggestion into the deepest core of his consciousness. Resistance from such a weak willed individual is all but impossible but Ophelia concentrates, keeping her power focused on him until he succumbs to her compulsion. |
| Count Valos | Father Bouhr feels nothing but extreme relief the moment Ophelia finally casts her blade to the wayside, and he grimaces.... The mental anguish is not gone, though, not by a long shot- and there's still residue from the intense fear and pain that coursed through his body and his two upper brain hemispheres, with the brainstem being perfectly content, due to the fact that the involuntary functions, such as breathing, are still intact! So, don't worry, Ophelia, Father Bouhr doesn't hate you with all his soul, only the parts that are able to actually think! Groaning, he hangs his head, trying to cope with the pain- some teardrops did become liberated during the process of the knife being twisted, and have formed a thin trail that's crawled down the surface of his cheeks, past his zygomatic bone all the way to the mandible. But he doesn't even have time to curse, for she then decrees that she'll get away with her vile deeds without penalization, which causes a flicker of utter confusion in the preacher's eyes, temporarily washing away some of the anger that was dominating his mind. His eyes widen with shock as she grabs his cranium, wondering what foulness is about to befall him, only to suddenly feel somnolence when her magical aura pervades his wholeness, causing his muscles to tire, and his brain's typical wavelengths to graduate to alpha, and slowly to the more deep ones like theta, and whatnot. Drifting off, his body slumps as the chains become his only support, with both legs bending as they lose the heavy blood-flow needed to exert manual force, and they make metallic clattering sounds against one another when Father Bouhr is no longer conscious. No..... he was never a match for her- not physically or mentally- that didn't stop him from calling her craven in recognition of the manacles that held him, but had he been devoid of them, she might've held him down and inflicted atrocities nary in difference to the very ones that he did endure. The chances are, he will not remember most of this, and just retain fragments of the memory, and even those might be distorted..... But anything was possible in the future, but Ophelia, being able to foresee, with some accuracy, a couple seconds of what may be to come, probably grew in her confidence.... for as she was reciting her incantation to rob him of his memory, the inquisitor most certainly foresaw him slouching into a state of slumber, which meant that her spell was completely successful, in denying him his conscious wits. |
| Ophelia | Ophelia doesn't need her short precognition to know the outcome of her domination of this pathetic man's mind. He had reeked of fear from the moment she had first gotten a whiff of his scent as he was dragged out of his bed in the middle of the night, robbed of sight and reason until the horrible truth was presented. And he had danced to the tune of her music, darting between various emotions and confused attempts to discern her purpose, when all she was after was that one moment of joy when he finally broke down. Alas, she was not allowed to truly break his spirit. Such a thing took time and she knew that her master would never approve. This torture was allowed because it served a purpose, both to maintain their cover as faithful members of the Church and to test her ability to maintain control. She has no intention of failing Alexander again, nor the desire to fall to her base temptations, no matter how alluring they might be. And now would be the most difficult test of all. As Father Bouhr slips into peaceful unconsciousness Ophelia steps foward and wraps her arms about him as if in a passionate embrace. Her cheek touches his and she feels the sticky wetness of the blood from his battered nose drying on his face. Gently, she tilts his head aside to reveal the viscious gash at his neck. The wound is angry and jagged, tattered bits of flayed skin and muscle bunched up in an unrecognizable mass; it will conceal what she does next. Opening her mouth, Ophelia allows a soft gasp to escape as she sinks her long fangs into the wet flesh. Instantly she is overcome by a wave of euphoria as fresh blood hits her tongue, coating it thickly with the tinny taste of copper. She struggles to keep it from enveloping her completely, pushing down the sudden desire to drain the man until he was little more than a dessicated husk. It has been some time since she fed from a live source and the temptation is great but she manages to maintain control, clearing her mind for the task ahead. Ophelia closes her eyes and slowly begins to feed, allowing the memories and emotions of Father Bouhr to trickle into her mind. Dozens of jumbled images and memories assail her but she blocks them out with practiced ease, focusing on the information she seeks. Key concepts such as the dark elf, the heretic Ramza, and the letter they found are used as guides and she sifts through the detrius of an entire lifetime, trying to find the handful of pertinent facts. It is not unlike hunting for a needle in the proverbial haystack but her senses are keen and she has never failed to get what she wants in the end. The only question will be whether or not he survives the process. |