[center][color=7bcdc8][h3][i]Jehenne Alcroft[/i][/h3][/color][/center]
[color=7bcdc8][hr][/color]

Jehenne turned and stared at the brand, dread written across her face. Louise Ester Von Hammerwhirl. Daughter of Steven Hammerwhirl. Poor girl, the slave thought. She wore that insanity on her face. The staff that spoke, and the flames she wielded. Jehenne was confident she was being purchased by someone unstable. Speaking on unstable, the boy spoke of conspiracy, fraud, and lies. Jehenne had little to say. It hardly mattered at this point. Maximillion did this. If some shadowy figure was gave a word this way or that...good for them. Karl Maximillion. The Reich. This religious boy perhaps believed that some extraordinary wrong was being done, and Jehenne didn't think he was lying, but rather she believed that it did not matter. Old Gods...men in black hoods. It didn't matter! Not unless they got in her way. She looked sadly over at that oncoming burning iron that promised more pain.

Brand me? Brand me! Someday, Jehenne thought, I will seek this Auction Master down and melt his lips together so he may never speak again. Someday. But until then...Jehenne leaned into the magic-restricting iron. Let's get this over with.

[color=7bcdc8]"GrmmmmmmmMAA[i]AAIIIG[/i]H!"[/color] Attempting to stifle her scream was futile. She cried out, voice cracking, as the brand seared and scarred her flesh. It was pulled away, and Jehenne was a trembling, sweaty wreck. Like cracks forming in a mask, the heat of the iron was no comparison to the fury in Jehenne's heart. Her brother was gone, and everything was taken from her. Her family, her wordly possessions, her dignity, her freedom, and now, her magic. There was nothing left to dedicate her life too except revenge.

Inhaling greatly, she glared over at Louise.[color=7bcdc8] "Very well. Shall we begin?"[/color]