Flashback
Time: Midnight, ??? Days before Ball
Location: Somewhere in Varian
Strong, violent winds whipped through the trees that shrouded the old, worn cabin that sounded like the wailing of a banshee as it pierced the dilapidated structure. It was only the thunderous downpour of rain that managed to muffle them from inside the cabin where it dripped from cracks in the roof and ceiling. The forest outside had always had numerous rumours of wandering spirits that drifted through the dense fog that so often covered the ground. They would lure people further in with soft whispers and sweet promises only to never return. Those who found themselves lost in the forest often reported unnatural screams and howls of either laughter or pain further in. Tonight, however, there was a very clear cause of such noise.
Owens was a young and promising witch-hunter plying his trade in the kingdom of Varian. He had a rugged appearance from growing up on his family’s farm, but no one would hardly call him a handsome fellow. It depended on the person whether his accumulated scars would improve or lower that fact. Owens more than made up for the fact by his pure size, an ogre of a man some would say. That worked more in his favor than the simple intimidation factor. Too many would underestimate him and believe him to be an ignorant buffoon who would only know how to hit things hard.
He was deceptively clever and could pick up skills and knowledge quickly if taught. It was this more than his brawn that brought him into the profession he found himself in. Magic was evil and needed to be purged. There was nothing more absolute than this in Owens’ mind. He had been witness to what horrible acts the wielders of such profane power could do right before he crushed their spine. It haunted him nearly every other night. Owens had done some light mercenary work until he could find himself a mentor. He worked and studied diligently under his master until it was time for him to set off on his own.
That brought him here to this godforsaken place in the middle of this cursed forest. Heavy iron cuffs on his feet and wrists, his arms and legs bound tightly to a bulky chair in the middle of the main living space. He had been celebrating with some new friends at one of the many pubs in the city after three successful hunts without injury. It felt like he was just hitting his stride and was on his way to becoming a master of his craft. Things had been going well for him. It was this arrogance that blinded him to the wiles of the gorgeous woman that led him upstairs to his room. All he could recall was her climbing onto his lap and there was blackness.
”Oh, yay! I was worried that the mixture was far too potent! You are such a big guy, aren’t ya? What a relief!” An airy, far too energetic voice came just in front of him but the blindfold stopped him from seeing them. It didn’t matter. He knew that voice and he growled into the coarse rag that was used as a gag. Owens did his best to pull against his bindings but found something shard biting into the flesh of his arms.
”I hope that pretty little brain of yours isn’t fried!” The woman’s voice exclaimed in mocking concern and he felt the tip of a slender finger curl from his jugular to the back of his neck as she whispered into his ear with eagerness.
”Because rabid dogs need to be put down.” A tinkling laughter got farther away with her footsteps, but it did little to stop the shiver down his spine.
His anxiety only surged when he heard the clear sound of metal clinking against each other as the woman began to hum some kind of children’s song on repeat. What had he done to deserve this? Who had sent this psychotic freak after him? What he was doing was for the good of the nation, no, the whole world! Why?
Owens did not get a further chance to question his terrible misfortune when he heard and then felt her footsteps get closer. He winced in pain, closing his eyes as a sharp blade sliced from his nose to between his brows. The tension of his blindfold fell as blood trickled down the angles of his face, but he could see now. It was indeed the same woman as before. Now she wore a full black leather suit of armor. There was a feminine mask that covered her face. It was divided black and white with the eyes and lips opposing colors.
”Oops!” She spoke with a joyful tone as she straddled his lap bringing the blade of the curved dagger to his cheek and dragged it slowly along the skin causing Owens to grit his teeth.
”It seems like the numbing effect is starting to wear off…” The woman's body expressed a pout that would have been cute in any other circumstance. She was toying with him. He had never done anything in his life to this girl! Once more he tried to use his strength to shift his binding, but again they found no leverage and the sharp pain cut further into his arms.
Out of nowhere she leaned close enough he could smell the floral scent of her hair and lifted the mask enough to lick the cut on his cheek. She fell back with a satisfied hum and shivered on his lap, the mask covering her full face again.
”Oooh, there is still a bit left it seems.” The woman giggled again as she crawled slowly off him giving a gaze of hunger, and not of the kind he had hoped for. He couldn’t even be sure she had actually felt something when she tasted his blood or was just messing with him further.
She brought her hands together in a clap that echoed in the cabin.
”It is time to get started, I think. I cannot be out all night after all.” The woman spoke as if he had been stupid enough to disagree with her on that. His eyes desperately flicked from wall to wall of the cabin desperate for anything that might get him out of this…but there was nothing. Owens had not kept his eyes on the woman in his panic upon realizing the helplessness of his situation.
”Oh my, would you look at those nails! You have to take better care of your appearance.” Owens had just turned his head back to look at her in time to express his confusion when terrible agony shot up from his right hand. His cry was muffled into his gag as he thrashed his head back and forth at the now missing pointer finger.
”Looks like you are going to have a hard time giving directions. Aw, but now it's all uneven…let's fix that!”His body shook with the pain as he struggled to keep awake. Bloody stubs were all that were left on the right hand. Owens had a faint hope that maybe it would cause him to bleed out before she could do whatever else she had planned, but just as she finished she put some kind of powder on it that stemmed the bleeding. The tight bindings meant all he could do besides wail into the cloth gag was squirm in place.
”You poor thing, you’re shivering! Let me get the fireplace started for you.” The woman cooed softly brushed his short-cut brown hair to the side yet all it did was set the pit of despair further in his stomach. Yellow and orange embers gave life to the old fireplace at the heart of the cabin as the woman seemed to work it with some familiarity.
She walked back to him after sliding something deeper into the firepit with some kind of iron rod. Did she want something from him? Information? Gods above he hoped that was it and he could somehow get his freedom, but she didn’t seem keen on letting him speak just yet. Her leather-gloved hand gripped his chin firmly and she seemed to examine him closely, looming over him with a menace that was replacing her previously bouncy energy.
”Now…something needs to be done with this disgusting mug of yours… The razor sharp edge of her blade cleanly sliced through the soft flesh of his ear, taking her time. Owens tried to thrash and pulled his head away, but all it resulted in was a rougher cut and nicks all over his neck and side of head. Tears fell from his eyes as he let out pained sobs. A bitter mixture of the agony from the disfigurement and the loss of hope he would be leaving this wretched place alive.
She stood back up and crossed her arms, the dagger twirling in her left hand.
”Hmm, I do not think that is quite enough. There is so much to correct. Ah, I think I know! You witchhunters adore your fire!” The woman skipped back over to the fireplace and Owens gave one last, desperate attempt to free his arms from the bindings. Whatever sharp object that had been cutting his arms sliced deep as he pushed. The more he tried to forced it to give, the more his arms became immobilized.
A chiding tsking came from the woman as walked with a sway to her hips back in front of him. Metal tongs held a white-hot metal mask far away from her, her hand covered in a thicker glove.
”I had this made just for your Owens Fairfield. It is time that the vile darkness in your heart matches the rest of you.” There was not more playfulness in her tone as she gripped a full hand of his hair and tore it back and brought the burning mask down on his face, uncaring it was properly seated.
Owens screamed until the heat burned his throat and lungs. The last sight of the woman he had before his eyes popped like overdone eggs was crimson hair and crimson lips that smiled at him. The one mercy he had was falling unconscious before he inevitably passed out from the scorching pain and her wicked blade as it carved him up further.
The woman wiped her forehead as she interred the remains of her latest offering next to the only marked grave on the property. She lowered herself onto the wet, muddy ground with legs crossed, reaching out and placing a tender hand on the rough stone.
”I hope you enjoyed this one, grandfather. I am going to be gone for sometime and I wanted to make sure you had something to lift your spirit.” Drops of tears mixed with the pouring rain as she let out a small laugh at her terrible joke.
She stood up once more and didn’t bother wiping the mud that clung to her legs and back.
”Do not worry. I will not forget your last wish while I am away. They will suffer. I will make every last one of them beg before I send them your way. Take care….grandfather.” Her somber voice was the last note that broke the storm’s chorus as she vanished into the haunted woods.
RPM
princess
Oso
Fetzen
CitrusArms
The Otter
SilverSpring
Not a Sayan
