Aryel's fiery nature had always been a double-edged sword for the tiefling. You could knock her down over and over again, and each time she'd get back up ready to fight on. She'd face danger headlong if another's life was at stake, and had been a staunch advocator for the commonfolk of Aetus since her arrival.<br/><br/>Unfortunately, it also meant that she simply didn't know when to give up and bide her time. Restrained and contained as she may have been, Dradiro's soldiers still made it a point to stay out of fireballing distance. The god himself seemed to take a perverse glee in pressing the fallen knight's buttons, and true to her nature, she rose to the bait each and every time, straining to break free from the shadow tendrils so she could punch Dradiro's head clear off his shoulders. Only a few of Aryel's followers had ever seen her so incensed before, and for those that had, it was reminiscent of a cornered animal--mindless, snarling fury in the face of impossible odds. She was as defiant as a candle against the onset of an endless night.<br/><br/>It was only pure exhaustion that left her quieter by the time they reached the city gates. Ignoring Dradiro's jibes for the moment, she lifted her head to take in the sight of the ancient stone gateway, wrought with images of mythical creatures. Something flashed through her eyes for a moment, different from the contempt and rage she had shown thus far. Aryel had grown to love this land and its inhabitants with a passion few could match, due in part to her half-demon nature. Grandchild of Avaritia, demon of Greed, it was hardwired into her to be possessive, selfish even. Maybe she had been so early in life, but over her years, shaped by her experiences and those she met along the way, she had learned to take that drive to<i>possess</i>and turn it into the drive to<i>protect</i>. Like a dragon amassing a hoard, the fiery woman had taken all of Aetus as hers, not to own or control, but to nurture and guard.<br/><br/>Once, she had patrolled these cobbled streets as a beloved guardian. Now, she was paraded through them as a prisoner.<br/><br/>The central gardens had fallen into disrepair since Dradiro had taken over. Formerly lush and green, home to specimens from all over the kingdom, it had become overgrown and dry. The plants withered even further as he strolled onto the green, his shadows sapping the life from the ground itself. People were gathering as she and Gabiriel were pulled forward, their faces pale and despairing as they recognized the rebel knight. Aryel's jaw clenched and she raised her head defiantly. Despite being battered and bloodied, it was clear that she hadn't given up the fight quite yet. Behind her, her men did the same, and her heart swelled in pride. She dared to glance back at them for a moment, giving them a faint smile and nod. Her eyes spoke volumes, bolstering their spirits slightly. Whatever happened today, whatever victory Dradiro thought he had won, the rebellion was far from finished.<br/><br/>She looked back to the god, letting out a slow breath as he began to chant. He meant to make a spectacle of this, no doubt. Despite her certainty that this wasn't going to be at all pleasant, she rolled her eyes at his theatrics, glancing behind her as two massive black crosses pushed themselves from the soil. In ancient times, thieves and other criminals had been hung up to die on such structures. It was a slow, agonizing way to go, and she heard the poor angel beside her suppress a whimper of fear. She felt about the same, truth be told, but she sure as hell wasn't letting Dradiro see it. Aryel growled as the tendrils pulled them to the ground, but she was ready this time and braced her legs, as stubborn as a wild mare. Despite her size--she was just five feet tall or so--she had the physique of a fighter, and was a good deal stronger than she appeared at first glance. It was a fact many realized too late when her fist met their jaw. It was clear that she wished to do so to Dradiro as he prowled behind her, his words eliciting a derisive sneer from the half-demon.<b>"I'm about as much an <i>angel</i> as you are a god,"</b>she spat, flames rippling down her wingfeathers. She had always been more in tune with her human side, never bothering to pay much attention to the affairs of celestials or infernals. Even so, part of her resented being compared to those harp-playing sissies.<br/><br/>She felt his fingers trailing along the plush midnight-blue feathers of her wings before his grip suddenly turned to iron. He drove his knee into her back, knocking her forward onto her knees with a hiss of pain as her wings were roughly unfurled. The great feathered limbs, spanning almost twenty feet from one tip to the other, were different in shape than a true angel's. Gabiriel's wings had a sort of "softness" to their edges, like those of a swan. Aryel's wings, on the other hand, were built for soaring, broad and long-tipped like a hawk. Additionally, the batlike claws erupting from each "wrist" were not something one might see on a celestial being. She was as much a creature of the air as she was of land, and when she realized what he was about to do, her blood ran cold.<br/><br/>Before she could cry out, his grip shifted, one hand lifting to suddenly smash into her right wing. His chop caught her wing's humerus bone, and she couldn't stop the<i>scream</i>as it cracked loudly, causing her spine to arch and her wing to bend in a place it had no business bending. It was a gut-wrenching sight, and she was dimly aware of her men shouting as she slumped forward, breathing heavily. It was a hollow, rattling noise, the kind that a person only produced when they were fighting back the urge to scream and scream and scream. The broken limb was twitching pathetically, each movement sending a jolt of pain searing through her nerves, and her eyes were wide, staring at the ground before her. It was only Dradiro's mocking purr in her ear that allowed pain to make way for rage.<b> "You son of a <i>bitch,</i>" </b>she growled hoarsely as his soldiers hoisted her to her feet, gripping her arms roughly.<br/><br/>Her mens' protests grew as she and Gabiriel were hauled to the crosses and bound to them, their arms raised into place. The poor angel was first, and she twisted her head away, eyes squeezed shut against his howls of pain and the terrible clanging of the hammer. When the screams dwindled to broken, gibbering whimpers, she knew she was next. When Dradiro taunted her, however, he would receive no words in response, only a defiant spit in the face.<br/><br/>Had she not already had the pain of a broken wing to contend with, the first strike of the hammer might have driven her unconscious. Each agonizing centimeter through flesh and tendon felt like an eternity of suffering, punctuated by flashes of electrifying pain that sent sparks dancing in her vision. She didn't bother trying not to scream--it was either that, or clenching her jaw so hard that her teeth surely would have shattered under the pressure. She fought against the hands holding her down as Dradiro moved to her other side and repeated the agonies, until both hands were nailed in place and red ribbons of blood traced their way down the contours of her arms. As the crosses were raised, she lifted her sweat-beaded face to the sky, each breath a trial. Crucifixion was a cruel way to die, as the victim would eventually succumb to infection and asphyxiation as their wounds festered and their overstretched chests were unable to draw in air.  He had said he didn't plan to kill her, but he had said nothing about dragging her to the very precipice of death.<br/><br/>His machinations weren't at an end yet, however. The shadow-tendrils that had held them down now coiled about the hanging duo, forming into black iron bars around them. Already struggling for breath, the bars of Aryel's cage constricted her even further, wrought iron pressing against her chest as it heaved in and out. Her wings were forced to tuck awkwardly against her back, the broken one still coursing with pain. She couldn't move. She couldn't<i>breathe</i>. She couldn't even think as the cloying shadows swirled about her head, tendrils worming deep into her mind. She cried out as they sifted about, until finally, they settled on the memory they had been looking for--<br/><br/><i>"Aryel!"<br/>
<br/>
Fire. Explosions. People screaming. The scent of blood filling her nostrils and the stench of dark magic seeping into the air.<br/>
<br/>
"There's too many of them--"<br/>
"--Saw him running for the gate, then that <b>thing</b> came down and--"<br/>
"Gods, what is --"<br/>
<br/>
<b>"ARYEL!!"</b><br/>
<br/>
She snapped to her senses, wiping the dust and sweat from her eyes. Faces hovered before her, grim and frightened. Several civilians looking terrified out of their minds, and two other knights of Aetus. "The keep gates won't hold," one of them was saying, his face twisted soberly. "They've already gotten inside--the city is lost." He looked to the others. "Korsac is searching for King Fenris, but..." He shook his head, trailing off. Everybody was thinking it, but nobody wanted to say it.</i><br/><br/><i>Aryel swallowed, gripping her bloodstained scimitar with enough force to whiten her knuckles. "Evacuating the city is our main concern, now. Get these people to the west gate--spread the word to anyone else you meet on the way. I'll scout from the air, make sure nobody gets to you." There was a fierce light burning in her eyes to match the fire in her guts.<br/>
<br/>
They nodded, moving to shepherd their charges from the safety of the ruins they huddled in out into the street. Aryel could hear fighting all around them, and through the haze of dust and smoke, she caught glimpses of movement, bodies struggling against eachother, humanoid and monstrous forms alike. Reaching an open plaza, Aryel broke away from the group and began to run, wings unfurling. A few strong strokes and she was airborne, circling back to glide overhead of them and scan the streets ahead. Sometimes she'd dive to dispatch a distant monster before it could spy the group, driving her blade into them and incinerating them from the inside out.  Other times, when a fight could be avoided, she'd lead her group down a different street. They were like nothing she had ever seen before--crawling, chittering balls of teeth and eyes and tendrils and madness given form. Some almost looked human. Given the cult that seemed to have sprung up around this so-called god, she didn't want to think about that too much.<br/>
<br/>
They were so close to the west gate. If they were lucky, they'd make it to the forest road, joining the string of refugees already fleeing the city. Things just couldn't be that easy, though, and as the group rounded a corner, they were beset upon by a horde of the gibbering monsters, boxing them in from all sides. A child screamed, blades flashed, and Aryel tucked her wings and dove, swinging her legs forward to land her ironshod boots on the head of one creature with a meaty thud. She slammed a flaming, gauntleted fist into it as it squealed in pain, trying to throw her off. She finished it with a vicious downwards stab of her sword and dropped to the ground, back up to join the others standing between the citizens and the monsters threatening to tear them to shreds. More were crawling from the side streets and dropping from the rooftops. Their path to the gate was rapidly closing, and Aryel growled, prepared to fight to the death until one of her companions laid his hand on her arm. "Take them and go. We'll make sure they stay busy."</i><br/><br/><i>She looked at him as if he had grown a second head. "Talro, there's no way in hell I'm leaving you behind."<br/>
The senior knight turned to give her a sharp look. White-haired, with a scar running down his cheek, the man had been a warrior of Aetus for decades before she had come along. Although there were no formal ranks among the knighthood, Talro had always commanded respect and admiration. "That wasn't a <b>request</b>. Rukia and I will buy you enough time to reach the gate." <br/>
At a loss, she looked to the other remaining knight, a lynx-like felid with grey streaks in her tawny fur. She nodded, giving the tiefling a weary grin. "Tal and I have had our day, girl. Now you make sure these people live to see another."<br/>
<br/>
Before she could protest, the two charged their foe. The last she saw of them as she followed the fleeing civilians down an alleyway was a brief glimpse before the abominations descended on them.<br/>
<br/>
Aryel hadn't left that city as a hero, or even a soldier. She had  run like a damned <b>coward</b>, one of thousands displaced that day, while her knighthood crumbled behind her. <br/>
<br/>
The memories of that day would be forever scarred into her mind, as clear now as they had been then. She could still hear the shouts and cries of citizens as they fled into the countryside--</i>wait.<br/><br/>Writhing on her cross, she fought to claw her way through the veil of memories the shadows dredged up, eyes finally focusing once more as her mind returned to the present. Her remaining rebels were being herded towards their own set of crosses, shouting and pleading with their captors. The sound was enough to galvanize her, lending enough strength to break free of the illusion entirely. Not again. She<i> couldn't</i>let it happen again.<br/><br/>With a roar, she strained against her bindings heedless of the fresh round of pain it caused, flames licking at her skin.<b> "STOP!"</b>she screamed--not for her agony to be ended, but for theirs to be waived. She slumped forward, burning gaze leveled on Dradiro. Every ounce of rage and hatred she had given him before was still there, but now there was an air of desperation, of<i>pleading</i>, to her.<b><i>"Stop." </i></b>