NSFW - you have been warned!!
"This is your offering assassin. I will watch with great interest and so will He.” Indoril looked at he Executioner, grinning beneath his fabric half-mask, delight dancing in his eyes.
“This is my third offering of the day, Executioner. The elf who tried to buy my Asur in the slave markets, the owner of this business, and this ... Bitch, here,” he finished, a look of distaste obvious on his face. “This one shall pay for the crime of attacking me!” Bowing a head at the other Druchii, Indoril then turned his gaze back to the shackled woman. She started to come around, and he took away the half mask, and smiled at her indulgently, amethyst eyes sparkling merrily.
“Well, hello, my dear. Nice of you to join us,” he said jauntily, gesturing towards Kelarith. “You see, I invoked the name of Khaela Mensha Khaine and asked him to guide my hand ... As such, I owe him lives.” The female just stared at him, unblinking, and for a second he found himself almost admiring her strength. And then her eyes flashed, and he saw her fear, even if it was for but a second. He sneered, removed his right glove and ran a hand down her pale cheek, caressing her cold flesh gently. “You will feel great pain before the end, my love.” It was a whispered promise, filled with lust and desire; the desire to inflict pain and death. “You’ll be begging for sweet release.”
With a demonic glint in his eye, Indoril looked around for a sharp knife, and found one which met his expectations - long, straight bladed and razor sharp. Taking it in his hands, he grabbed the Druchii woman’s tongue and, with a single fluid movement, cut it off, savouring the tang of blood in the air. Reverently, he placed the tongue on the floor. A muffled scream emanated from her mouth, and she struggled to clear her airways, gulping down large amounts of blood. Next, he placed the blade at the base of her neck and lightly traced it down her stomach, between her full breasts and all the way down to her crotch. When he was confident of his line, Indoril repeated the line but put more pressure on the knife, sinking through skin and into muscle. Her body tautened, blood blossomed, and she tried to scream, but only a gurgle came from her mouth. “Ah, ah, ah! You’re serving a higher purpose; try not to struggle. I know it’s painful, but I have to do it.”
She continued to struggle weakly, until Indoril slapped her, and she appeared to be stunned, or unconscious, because her body relaxed. Smiling, he went back to his work, determined that this skin would be perfect; it would be a great offering to the Bloody Handed god. He sliced through the skin of her legs and feet, peeling the great, loose flaps of skin back, rolling them up. The woman tensed again, and a gurgling scream emerged, spraying the scene with specks of blood.
***
Hours later, Indoril had released as much of the skin as he could without killing her; great swathes of bleeding, agonised muscle was on show. Hoarse breaths still tore themselves raggedly from her mouth, rasping bizarrely. Truly, he was surprised that she had lasted so long, but no more. “Yes, little one, your time has come. Your final breaths ... I wonder how it feels, to feel so powerless, so exposed to both the world and the Bloody god ...” He trailed off, and brushed his lips against her own, letting out a lust-filled sigh as her the taste of her blood hit his mouth. He was still kissing her when he drew the knife along her throat, and even more blood welled from her body, and she finally rasped her last.
He continued to slice the skin around her neck, separating it from that of the rest of her body. Once done, he removed the rest of her skin and laid it down on the ground as if it were an ancient relic. Indoril then faced the remains of her body, and realised he still needed to remove her organs. “I need something to break the ribs ...” he muttered, sweeping his gaze over the room, until he found what he was looking for. Using a second knife, the elf removed the muscle to reveal bones, sheathed in gore, which he then broke with well-aimed hits of a hammer.
Once done, he had free access to the ribcage, and carefully plunged his hand into it, grasping the unbeating heart and pulling it out. With his other hand, he held his knife and cut the slippery, fleshy tubes which still connected it to the rest of her insides. Eventually, he was left with the muscle held in his hand, and smiled. He knew that the blood still contained in it was what he wanted for the next part of his devotion - squeezing the muscle slightly, he dipped a finger into the secretions and approached the flayed skin, before kneeling and muttering beneath his breath liturgies of blood, murder and death. With the blood congealing on his bared finger, Indoril traced the symbol of Khaine himself onto the skin. Finally, he was pleased with how his work had turned out. He then placed the heart on the floor between the skinned legs, and turned to Kelarith.
“Time consuming, yes, and some may find it to be ultimately pointless, with no benefit that could not be gained by offering a head or heart ... But I find it better than simply removing the head or heart. The time one invests in removing all the skin from a body, ensuring there is not a single rip or tear ...” he shivered with ecstasy, before looking down at his clothes and sighing. “The downside, of course, is the mess ... I shall have to visit an acquaintance of mine once my offering has been set down in the Temple.
“And I’m determined to discover your true purpose in joining the Cold Hearts, Executioner. Assessing our potential ...”
