Blood from Stone [AU]

[NPCs]

The laughter continues for some time. It's still dying off when his head is yanked back harshly by the hair on his head, the rope- the coarseness makes it clear it's rope- pulling painful against his throat. "Don't think he liked that, did he gents?" The laughter erupts again. "How you doing, Light zi'Kitty?"

[GamesMaster]

Light! Fuck -- this isn't the Guard, they know i'd have their heads for this. He bares his teeth in a silent snarl, the only appropriate response for a catfolk with any pride at all.

[NPCs]

As soon as his mouth opens in that snarl, something is shoved inside. By the taste and texture, it's a fish head. An old one, already spoiling.

[GamesMaster]

He hisses and spits, resisting the fingers that pry his teeth open even as he nearly gags on the smell. 

[NPCs]

Whoever is doing this has clearly planned well- the fish in question is small and the person wearing thin but tough leather gloves. Once it's in- not that Don makes it easy- the person claps his hand over the catfolk's mouth to keep it there. They must have leaned down, because the man then whispers right next to Don's ear. "Wouldn't spit that out was I you- all you're getting for today. And more than you deserve, ya thieving fuck."

[GamesMaster]

I'd rather die, thinks Adonis furiously, struggling against his bonds. 

[NPCs]

"Silk ropes, your Kittyness. No chance a little fop like yourself is going to break free of those, not as bound as we have you." With a laugh, the man pulls away, allowing Don to spit the fish out if so desired. "So sorry it's only your second favorite food."

[GamesMaster]

Don spits out the fish head, aiming as best he can for where he thinks the voice is coming from. That voice... it sounds familiar.

[NPCs]

"Ain't like we'd be giving'm newborn!" Another voice calls out to accompanying jeered agreement. 

A softer chuckle from nearby. "Defiant. Good. I was hoping you'd make this fun. People work best when they like their work better than their fun, yeah?" Strange turn of phrase that. "But we should get right to business. The guard are... moderately distracted to be sure, but no sense in taking foolish risks. So! Lets go over our agenda, shall we? First, I'm going to hurt you. Rather a lot to be honest. To soften you up, of course, for step two, but also because, well, I want to. Then after that, I'll tell you how you can make the pain stop. You won't accept it, of course, stubborn beast that you are, but I'll offer. We'll repeat that until you surrender and accept your place."

[GamesMaster]

Don stares, speechless for a moment. This is... Alright, Don. Focus. This is going to be bad. Stay calm, think of Beth, and don't do what they ask. They'll just kill you if you do.

[NPCs]

Another soft chuckle. "Cat got your tongue?" He snickers darkly. "Wouldn't be surprised if your kind stole even from each other." With no change in tone or pacing, he continues, "Thankfully, you are not the only one who can acquire a... powerful patron. And clearly, mine is the better." As he speaks, he shifts his grip from Don's fur to his ear and begins to twist.

[GamesMaster]

"You'll regret this," hisses Don. "I will never give you what you want."

[NPCs]

"Of course you will. After all, you are already giving me some of what I want." He yanks the ear to the side and back savagely. "And more to come very soon, I promise you. For instance..." Cool metal runs down Don's right arm where it's tied along his back. The head of the tool is pressed, hard, against the forearm. "Recognize what this is? Your own kind's work even."

[GamesMaster]

It takes him a moment to recognize the shape -- it isn't a simple tool, not like a sword. Then he understands, and his blood runs cold.

To lose his claws... He had seen the process done before, more than once. For all but the worst criminals, willowbark would be offered and chewed to dull the worst of the pain. After all, claws grow from bone -- this would be an amputation more than a torture.

He hisses, tail trying to whip about despite the bindings.

[NPCs]

"Mehinks he does," the man says with delight. "Delightfully delicious!" That phrase, that voice... Don knows them. But from where? Must be from either Bandanna or Light stuff, as he clearly isn't a catfolk so... "Question is... Well, let's ask the room, eh? What do you say boyos! Shall we start with his right or left paw?"

Cries of suggestions ring out along with other threats.