A Type of Sort
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Gazing down at his boot, K’isareth Xa, Archon of the Kabal of the Envenomed Dream, could not help but notice the clumps of mutilated flesh and clotting ichor clinging to its finely polished surface. Any other time, his dark and searing fury would have erupted out at such an affront to his lofty status, but there in and among the many torture chambers it felt fitting.
Whereas many Archons maintained quarters for members the dark covens of flesh crafters as more of a compulsory act to protect themselves and their Kabal’s interests, K’isareth took a more personal interest in the goings on within those halls. What had been once a mild curiosity had morphed into a hobby; growing then into an integral part of sating his lustful thirst for inflicting pain.
However, it had been a while since he last sojourned to the torture chambers. So when his master Haemonculus, Spydronus, sent word of a new creation, K’isareth could hardly contain his excitement to visit the ancient torturer and see what demented device he had engineered this time. Being parley to what his
Haemonculus’ musings was a thing he enjoyed; being patient was not. The Archon had come for a show not to stand around staring at his boot.
“Your insistence on dramatic build up, Haemonculus, has begun to grate on me,” K’isareth scorned. “I was unaware you intended to torture me with waiting…”
“Forgive me, my Archon,” intoned Spydronus beseechingly with a bow. “Would my Archon please follow me to the viewing platform?”
“For your sake, I hope to be entertained once there.”
“Of course, my Archon.”
The Archon’s interest piqued when the spiraled stair case seemed to become slick with gore as the pair ascended to the viewing room. After the high climb, K’isareth stood before a windowed viewing port and his attention was greeted by the full ferocity of the Haemonculus’ creation.
“I call it the ‘Tempest Method,’ my Archon…”
K’isareth could not help but think it was a fitting name for the expanse within the massive chamber on the other side of the viewing port. A high arching ceiling housed a machine at its center that created a full-fledged storm there within the room. Electrical energy crackled as synthesized lightning pierced the air. Screams were heard below as it sparked towards the floor sending off thunderous echoes of its journey. K’isareth rushed to the window to peer in. Countless prisoners ran this way and that to fight against the storms fury. The wretches left exposed to the squall by the chamber’s minimal furnishings.
Standing back, regarding the Archon’s reaction, Spydronus continued “This great chamber acts as a central hub and sorting room for numerous connected spaces. All of which house tortures made well known to those placed within the storm’s wake. The created gale punishes those that fight to stay out of those rooms. The only shelter allotted to them being those of the chambers themselves, where their torments will truly begin."
“And what storm would be complete without rain, my Archon?” Spydronus asked rhetorically; pressing a button on a small console on the wall next to viewing port. “A parting gift from the previously tortured.”
Instantly a deluge began pouring down onto the doomed folk below. Intrigued by the strange way the liquid coursed down the viewing glass and the cries of horror from the prisoners, K’isareth drew the window open. Howling winds pushed him back, sweeping torrents of fluid into the viewing area. Reaching one arm into the chamber to feel its effects, the Archon let out a sinister laugh as he withdrew his it and inspected it closely.
“You have outdone yourself this time, Haemonculus,” K’isareth praised, his low chuckle rumbling again. “What a beautiful downpour blood makes.”
Subject: A Type of Sort 
Thu Jun 13 2013, 00:18
