atonementlogs | event 003: the potions

Entry tags:

!event

event 003: the potions

Characters: All.

When: April 1st - 30th

Where: Various locations.

Warnings: None. Please put any warnings in the comment subject if it progresses that way!

The weather will continue to be Spring-like for the rest of this month, with the occasional storm or shower here and there. Once again, all citizen's will be alerted to go to the center of Penance to see about their punishment for the month of April!

As usual, a tent has been set up with plenty of food and drink set up on tables, with another one off to the corner containing letters addressed to each citizen, along with bottles of potion for each. Each person is invited to take a bottle and either drink it now, slip it to someone else, or saved it for later.

The effects are described as being random. The person who consumes the liquid may see the ghost of someone they've harmed in the past that will follow them around, screaming their sins to all around. It mayse severe, nearly deadly pain. It may take away one of the taker's senses, whether it's sight, hearing, touch, smell, or taste, or even all of them.

If citizens would rather go another route, they are free to make use of the Sin Lounge and deliver torture or pain to each other.

For those eager for more, citizens may take as many punishments as they want during the month!

With their new letter collected, it is time for all to decide their new punishment and face it bravely!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hm, I'm not sure.

[He tests it again, now that he knows what to expect, and his eyes alight at the burst of light and charge that comes from it. Electricity existed by the time he died, true, but not like this, not in devices like the one now sitting in his hand.

One more time, he pushes it, holding it down and watching a longer surge stream in between the prongs of metal.]

It seems to be able to create an electrical charge. Just a small burst, but given that it's in here, that's all it needs to be able to produce a significant amount of pain.

[As he says it, he turns towards Ianchus, kneeling in front of him, the rod of metal in hand.]

Electrical...electricity, like lightning?

[He's only seen it in its untamed, wild variant, massive bolts thrown off by clouds over the ocean. To think that the same could be called at will by something that small is hard to fathom to him.

Instinctively, he pulls back a little, though his eyes are half-closed and focused on the prongs--such an innocuous tool. There's both trepidation and fascination there.]

Essentially, yes.

[He shifts closer to Ianchus with the prod still in hand, heavy in one hand while he places himself directly in front of Ianchus' bound position. The more he speaks, the more serene and calm his voice grows, the preparation easing his tone.]

In my time, we mostly use it for power -- for lights and transport and communications. But it's also used to execute prisoners in other parts of the world. The condemned is strapped to a wooden chair and wires placed on his temples. Then they surge an electrical charge through their bodies, destroying them from the inside in only a few brief seconds.

[Ianchus' chest is bare, which works well for their purposes. Lightly, he presses the metal tabs to his chest, just under the dip of his collarbone, and he lets them rest there for a moment or so.]

I've never seen it myself, you understand. But I've heard it is rather brutal to witness.

[And with that, he presses the button.]

[Ianchus is already opening his mouth to say something, but his teeth snap together with a loud click and clench as the current flows through him. His entire body stiffens, and though the prongs are only set against one small part of his chest, it feels like he's being jabbed all over. He can't move, he can only stare straight ahead as the burning, stinging feeling courses through his entire body.

It's like nothing he's ever felt before.]

[Jezebel watches, curious as Ianchus tenses and spasms at the touch. He only holds the charge for a second or so -- in truth, he's not sure if even a small amount of charge would kill him on the spot -- and then pulls it away, looking over Ianchus as he tenses and quiets.

It's strange, knowing there's no blood, no noise, no immediately visible damage, and yet he knows that it has to be a sort of pain he can't even fathom. What a beautifully clean way to hurt someone.

After he's given Ianchus a moment or so to recover himself, he asks:]

How is it?

[Ianchus sags forward, the bound position he's in threatening to tip him over--but he manages to catch himself, pushing himself back and rolling his head back, feeling limp after the rigidity of the electricity running through him. He gathers enough of him to check where Jezebel had jabbed the apparatus into him, and is surprised to only see the flesh there is just slightly pink.]

It...hurt. It hurt everywhere.

[He looks up at Jezebel, then at the prongs again.]

I couldn't move.

[Jezebel nods slightly at that, his hand still holding the prongs lightly against Ianchus' chest while he glances him over.]

Electricity runs as a current -- I imagine it can reach every inch of your body in less than a second or so. It's like water, very easily flowing through everything.

[He looks over Ianchus' eyes, his jaw, his neck, looking to see if there was any signs of visible damage. As far as he could tell, there was nothing, no wounds nor medical issue to attend to. It was as if the pain had never happened, even though he knows that Ianchus' body must still be thrumming from the pain of it.]

[It is, but it's abating now, considering how short the shock was.]

I've seen lighting destroy a tree, and I've heard of people dying when struck by it. You say that it's been used for execution in your world?

[He tries to imagine that same shock that was given to his chest at his temples instead and gives an involuntary shudder. There's something about the unfocused, ubiquitous pain that unnerves him.]

It is. They say it's quicker than hanging, but I imagine they use a much higher dose than what I just gave you.

[He doesn't really know if it's more or less painful than the noose. But then, he supposes the only people who would really know are too dead to ask.]

Mmm. In my country they would execute with the headsman's axe. Much faster than both, I'd imagine. It felt like burning.

[Another, harsher shudder, and Ianchus throws a furtive glance back at the door--still locked. Nothing to do but regain his composure.]

Let me see it. [He can't help his curiosity, after all.]

Mm, faster if done right, it's true, but too gruesome for some sensibilities, I imagine.

[At Ianchus' request, he nods, pulling away the rod. He lays it out across both his palms, fingers off of the button. Since Ianchus' hands are still bound, Jezebel holds it up for him, flat and horizontal over his hands.]

Making a clean business of death is a morbid pursuit, either way.

[Ianchus stares at it with both nervousness and fascination both, eyes taking in the buttons, the two prongs (dull! you couldn't even skewer a man with them!), the grip.]

It looks so inconspicuous.

It does, doesn't it? I had assumed it was simply for flogging at first.

[Turning it over in his hands, he keeps it laying flat on his palms, but presses the button to show off the burst of electricity igniting its prongs.]

I suppose even in the future, people will always devise newer and better ways to inflict pain.

[He jerks a little at the electricity and then leans in a little, unable to hide his interest, a little half smile on his face.]

Ah, yes. The twistedness of humanity is the only constant. I'm sure that man, Marcus, can tell us so many things about what the great minds of the future have come up with.

[Ianchus sits back, eyeing Jezebel.]

I don't suppose you have any interest in trying it on yourself, Doctor?

Not in the slightest.

[His voice is good-humored enough when he says it, but no, there is not a shot in hell that that's happening.]

I'll take my punishments when they're forced on me, but for right now, I believe it's my chance to, as you said, 'pick my pleasure'.

[Holding out the rod towards Ianchus again, he says with a slight smile:] If you hate the burn of the current that much, I may be persuaded to pick something more familiar to you, but I have no intentions of tormenting myself.

Ah! A man who keeps his principle. That's a good thing, I suppose.

[Of course it was a joke, and Ianchus hadn't actually expected Jezebel to oblige. At the offer, he draws himself up as best as he can, lifting his chin up.]

You wound me, Doctor! I have my pride as a sinner. Have at me!

[Jezebel lets out a small laugh, at both the comment and the way Ianchus draws himself up proudly.]

All right. If you insist.

[He presses the tabs against Ianchus' sternum this time, the prongs lightly pushed against his skin. When he pushes down on the button, he holds it for a second longer than last time, letting the electricity pulse of our the rod and into Ianchus' skin.]

[Again, there's the rigidness, the burning through his body, the complete loss of control. He hardly realize he's making little noises.
And again, he manages to keep his balance, just barely, once the current ends. He licks his lips, his mouth tasting like metal, but spitting shows that there's no blood there.]

...T-Terrible.

[For all the agony it must be putting him through, it's still strange to watch due to how little there is as evidence of his torture. No bruises, no blood, no collapse, just the strung out, rigid pose he takes when the electricity flows through him. Even the noises are relatively small, all considered.

He moves the prod away once it's done, looking him over.]

You're handling it well, all told, especially given how you're still upright in those knots.

[Though his back is arched from the bondage, Ianchus' knees are free to spread, which is how he's managed to do it that second time. Widening his base gives him a better balance, and allows him some leeway once his muscles are released from the thrall of the electricity.]

I don't think I will be for much longer.

[His voice is soft, and he confirms his suspicions for himself when he manages to look at the prod in Jezebel's hands. There's no excitement in that black casing and metal prongs--he just feels a runner of fear.]

I...I can't do this with the ropes. Can you untie me?

[The pathway back to the bar hasn't opened yet, which means they'll still need to continue this if they want to be let out. And if Ianchus likely will topple from another shock, right onto the not-particularly-soft surface of the floor.

He nods his agreement, shifting so that he can move behind Ianchus. Jezebel puts the prod down on the floor next to him so he can unwind the knots, deftly loosening them and drawing them open -- first his hands, then his feet.]

[His wrists and ankles give some indication of the severity of the torture--the electricity has caused him to strain against the ropes, and they're already rubbed raw, dots of blood coming up where the skin has particularly worn thin. He seems to sag as Jezebel frees him, and when he tries to lift one arm it's shaking--though whether from the shock or the ropes, he can't quite tell.]

Edited 2018-04-10 02:46 (UTC)

[Jezebel does look over the marks crossing his wrists and his ankles, beads of blood rising up now that the pressure on them has lifted. They swell even more as blood flows back through once the pressure on his limbs is eased, letting it circulate through him properly.

He shifts back around to face him, still holding the prod, but letting Ianchus recover himself.]

The room let you out after three lashes the last time. Perhaps three this time will be enough that you can be allowed to leave.

Let's hope so.

[He takes a deep breath and puts shaky hands over his face. It's odd, to so be dreading something in this kind of environment. It's different from the previous time in the back room, where his body feared the sensation of the lash but his mind anticipated it with excitement.

Even in dire situations, he's been able to channel adrenaline and determination to push through pain, use it as a force.

But all he feels for the prod is a cold fear in his gut.

He swallows hard, and takes a breath--though he's never been one to worry too much about how he looks to others, he isn't used to this kind of fearful weakness.]

One more kiss from our new toy, then.

[He can hear the weakness in his voice, but he tried, at least.]

[For all his calm, he does empathize, really. Not enough to switch places, mind, but he understands the feeling of resignation, of trying to hide weakness even when overwhelmed with dread. Jezebel had not understood Ianchus' fascination with the lash because, in truth, this had been closer to how that particular treatment made him feel.

His expression remains impassive as he kneels in front to press the rod lightly against Ianchus' stomach, lightly pushing into the skin above his navel.]

Here's to 'third time's the charm'.

[And he presses the button down, hearing the searing noise hit Ianchus' flesh.]

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