Witchfinder's Tale (BG & RM)

[ryanmcallister80]

It was a blustery spring afternoon when a bedraggled Jean-Alexandre Dumont and his pack mule trudged into the small village in the wilds between the Empire and Brettonia. His long overcoat and wide brimmed hat were gaudily decorated with a plethora of brightly coloured scarves and his poor mule was weighed down with a number of wooden chests and saddlebags. His dark brown hair, despite his best attempts to keep it under his hat, was wild and windswept as was his general appearance. He had several days of growth on his chin and his round spectacles were cracked and hung crookedly from his nose. His stooped shoulders and crooked walking stick gave the impression of someone having endured a hard life. He walked slowly to the inn by the main square, looking like one in need of a long soak and a good night’s sleep.

He huffed and puffed up to the stable lad, pressing a coin into the young boy’s hand “Make sure Dobbin is well watered lad, there’s more where that came from if she tells me you’ve taken good care of her.” He whispered hoarsely in the lad’s ear.

He hobbled over the courtyard and into the taproom, his stick tapping loudly on the stone floor. He smiled at the barman and loudly ordered a ‘tankard of your finest and a hot meal’ before finding a table by the fire and settling down. To anyone that enquired he was a travelling herbalist, specialising in potions and tinctures to treat all ills, as well as making more outlandish claims about his wares – love potions and the like – and telling all and sundry that he’d fended off two attempts to strip him of his goods while he travelled the roads alone.

He was silent only to eat and drink, regaling anyone who’d listen to his tales of who he’d sold potions too and the dangers he’d faced searching for rare and valuable herbs and plants. Nobody believed his exaggerated tales, but he seemed harmless and friendly enough. He intended to set up a stall in the market over the next few days before moving on to the next town. Once he’d eaten his fill, he paid for a room and hot bath before buying a bottle of spirits.

 

[Biting Girl]

She sat in the back corner booth of the tavern, her long blonde curls covered by her long red velvet cloak. She watched as the stranger hobbled slowly into the bar and sat down at a table a few yards away from her. She remained silent as he spoke to the locals. She was is if a ghost there, seated in the dark.

She sat there for 3 long hours, watching the people in the tavern converse and drink. Her eyes followed the new stranger as he stood, paid for a room, and left the bar area. As she stood from her table and made her way to the door, one of the local drunkards approached her, slurring and stumbling. "Hey baby... you gonna let me see what you're hiding under that cloak?"

With a quick look into his eyes, she locked onto him before leaning in and whispering into his ear. She watched with a grin as the hand that held his full tankard of mead lifted and poured the libation all over his head. She could hear the rest of the people in the bar laugh at him as she quickly exited the building and headed to her home. She had heard the new stranger say that he was an herbalist and was setting up at the market in the morning. She was glad to hear this, as she had been out of Wolfsbane for a while and needed it desperately. But she was a bit suspicious of this man. Something about him didn't sit right with her. She would tread with caution.

 

[ryanmcallister80]

Well, his presence had certainly attracted plenty of attention as he'd intended. There would be plenty people talking about him and most likely too him, once he'd set up his stall in the morning. He'd travelled the area over the last few weeks, staying in towns and villages whenever he'd heard any rumours of witchcraft, the last few villages all suggested he head here, that there was some sign of witchery at work, though none could give him any firm information, just heresay and rumour.

There was only one way to find out of course and that's why he'd come this far south. He'd have to tread carefully though, take his time and not ask and direct questions as he didn't want to expose himself to any undue danger. Some places, especially backwater towns such as this, actually were quite protective of magic users if they provided useful services such as healing and potion making… He didn't want to have to involve anyone else, though if they were blatant in their support for any unregistered wizard or witch then he'd have no choice. But for now he'd just wait and see what happened tomorrow, see who showed their face.

He took his bottle and went up to his room, checking the place out thoroughly before he went down to the stables and had the stable boy help him up the stairs with his chests - he was a poor, crippled traveller after all. He paid the boy a few coins for his trouble and asked that his bath be drawn so he could have an early night.

After a short while there was a knock at his door and a serving maid came in with the first of several buckets of hot water. He waited until the steaming water filled the tub and thanked the young girl, detecting a hint of disappointment in her voice as she bid him goodnight - Was she expecting the stranger to ask for other services? How common, filthy little slut. - and he locked the door behind her before disrobing and taking a long, relaxing soak in the surprisingly deep and comfortable tub.

After his bath he laid out his clothing for the morning, careful to keep his disguise dry and by his bedside should anyone feel the need to call upon him during the night. Fortunately he was able to enjoy a comfortable and uninterrupted sleep, waking shortly before sunrise. He lit the lamps in his room and took his time donning his disquise and the clothing of Jean-Alexandre Dumont before he hobbled out of his room and slowly made his way down to the taproom to request breakfast.

He ate quickly, swallowing down the thin gruel and chewy bread that passed for morning repast and returned to his room, carefully concealing a few items inside his long overcoat before he hauled his wares down the stairs and ventured out into the chill morning air, looking for a place to set up by the market square.

 

[Biting Girl]

The sun broke the sky slowly as she rose from her bed. Stretching her short, curvy body she walked over to the tall mirror that rested against the opposite wall of her bed. She ran her fingers through her long curly hair and then pulled it up into a large, messy bun on the top of her head. Taking her night gown off, she reached into the tall wooden closet to the right of the mirror and drew out a beautiful red corseted dress.

Dressing quickly she grabbed her woven basket and her gold and left her home. The walk to the market was about 2 miles from her home. She had built her house far out in the woods so that she could live in peace and work with her herbs and spells without nosy villagers poking their heads in every 5 minutes. The last village she'd lived in drove her out because they feared she'd use her magic for evil. Some even went so far as to say she worshiped the Devil. Although she had used her powers for good, she decided to leave before she was burned at the stake. She had hoped this village would be better than the last. And so far it was. So long as she only practiced her magic when no one was around.

She'd had a few customers come to ask for certain spells and potions. And because of this, she needed a few more herbs. Some of which she couldn't find in the fields and forest that surrounded her. She had heard the new stranger say that he had herbs and the like to sell. She could tell there was something about him that didn't ring true. But she desperately needed these things. So, she shoved those feelings into the back of her mind and pressed on.

Soon, she had reached the market. A long main lane that sat in the middle of the village. Each side was lined with wooden booths where the village merchants sold their wares. There were fruits and vegetables. Textiles and beads. Wood for burning and tapestries. Everything the people could ever want. She wandered along the lane, picking up some apples and beans along the way. When she finally made her way to the man, she smiled up at him.

"Excuse me sir, but..." she stopped and leaned in a bit, whispering low. "Do you happen to have any Wolfsbane or Jasmine?" She looked around her to make sure no one had heard her request. She awaited patiently the mans response.

 

[ryanmcallister80]

The village was quite busy this morning, the market obviously attracted people from outlying areas as well as the locals. Fresh produce from local farms, vegetables, fruits, even wines from the few vineyards able to grow decent grapes on the slopes of the Grey Mountains. There were woven fabrics, the odd tapestry, rustic looking necklaces and charms made from beads, twine and wood. Everything one would expect from a backward village in the middle of nowhere.

The people were exactly what he’d expected too. Rustic, backward looking farmers, uneducated peasants, simpletons and the occasional borderline mutant. In all honesty the whole village could be raised to the ground and it would be no loss to the Empire. He would consider it a days work well done and not look back with an ounce of sympathy, but then his real target would likely escape and go on practicing her vile hedge magics unhindered and more places would be corrupted by her taint. No. Unfortunately he’d have to wait a little longer before he could serve the Emperor’s justice, suffer this place a little longer and root out the vile she-devil himself before bringing her back for a public trial and execution so the great unwashed masses of the Empire could see what a real witch looked like and how she would burn for her sins.

He'd set his stall out, mainly common herbs with some of the salves and ointments he'd made from them. Some were foul smelling concoctions for treating cuts and burns, while others were to clear the airways and aid breathing when one was afflicted by a heavy cold. Others still were the type of plant that were used by magic users for more complex spells or rituals, the type that would be unrecognised by charlatans or regular folk, only those that practiced the forbidden arts. These herbs would draw in his quarry, either by the simple fact they would recognise them or that they would attempt to take them from him in some way - openly or by thievery. One way or the other he would find his prey today - so long as they were still here of course.

A few people came to his stall, but they gave no sign of being his target, though one was so ugly they could have been considered a mutant… He'd just been bent over one of his chests when there was a swish of red cloth and as he stood, he was greeted by a petite young woman smiling up at him. She had long, curly blonde hair piled on the top of her head, fair, unblemished skin and white teeth - quite remarkably beautiful for this village. She carried a basket full of apples in one hand as she loitered by his stall. Her appearance was striking, but it was her words that captured his attention.

"It is a little early for those herbs dear girl, even one such as myself - a herbwarden of some repute in my homeland - would be hard pressed to obtain them in this season." He replied quietly, but with a friendly smile on his face. He watched her face intently as he spoke, noting the sparkle of her eyes, though strangely unable to determine their colour.

He dropped his own voice to a whisper, "I may, however, be able to accommodate your needs. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Jean-Alexandre Dumont. Before we discuss this any further, we should make sure we are far from potentially unfriendly eyes and ears.. There are those that would look badly upon us if we were caught trading in such items." His voice is conspirational and slightly admonishing as if she would get them both tried as wtiches.

"What say we discuss this in more detail later after the market has ended… I have a room at the inn, we will have some privacy, away from prying eyes and ears?" His suggestion was business-like, delivered with no undertones, no hidden meaning.

 

[Biting Girl]

When he leaned in and whispered, she couldn't tell if it was a trap. There was still something about him that she didn't quite trust. She nodded in agreement. Making a mental note to take one of her flour eggs with her, in case she needed to make a clean get-away. She curtsied to him as she picked her basket back up and headed back down the lane towards her home in the woods.

As she entered, she took to preparing her bath. Taking some lavender sprigs from her basket, that she had picked in the fields on her way home, she took the fragrant flowers off the stems and rolled them in her hands, placing them into the copper tub that sat behind a sheer curtain at the back of her small hut. Not everyone had the luxury of having a bath in house. Her spells and potions that she'd sold to the many different villagers along the way had afforded it. She filled the bath with two buckets of water, and lit the small fire underneath.

As she waited the water to warm, she went to her small cupboard next to her bed and brought out her flour egg. Were he to try anything nefarious, she could throw the egg on the ground in front of him, sending the flour billowing into the air, creating a "smoke screen" in order for her to quickly escape. She wrapped it up in a small square of fabric and placed it into her bag.

When the water had started to steam a bit, she smothered the fire, and waited for the water to cool off just a bit. While she waited, she stood in the mirror and undressed, revealing pale skin that looked almost like porcelain. Until she turned to her back, and rubbed her hand up her side. There, along her left side, was a long nasty looking scar. She frowned at it, and shook her head. Although that past was long gone, she couldn't help but think about it every time she had to bathe or dress. Turning to the tub, she pulled the long wooden sticks out of her hair that was holding it atop her head, allowing the long curls to flow down her back, and almost touching the cheeks of her ass.

Sliding slowly into the hot, fragrant water, she sighed and ran a wet rag over her body. Closing her eyes tight, she dipped her head under the water, allowing her hair to get nice and saturated. She could feel it flowing around her body as she ran her fingers through it to allow the water and lavender to clean and fragrance her hair. After she soaked and used her lye bar to clean her body, she got out of the tub and dried off.

By now, the sun had set almost fully. She dried her hair as much as she could with her fabric towel, and then brushed it. It would be dry by the time she met with Jean-Alexandre. She grabbed a quick dinner of bread and butter, and water. Grabbing her cloak, she put it on over her simple blue dress she'd put on after her bath. She then put her bag on her wrist, and exited her home again. It was now night, but the moon was full and shone brightly, lighting the way through the forest to the village. Her long blonde curls flowed freely down her back, and were nearly dry.

As she entered the Inn, she saw Jean-Alexandre seated at a table. "Hello again, Sir", she said, curtsying again.

 

[ryanmcallister80]

The rest of the day crawled by for him. People milled around the market, passing his stall with curious glances here and there, but only a few stopped to share a few words with the stranger. He spoke happily with anyone who took the time and shared a few witty stories of his recent travels. The sun climbed higher in the sky and more people passed through the village square. One of the other stallholders, an older woman, with a wrinkled face, whispy grey hair and a missing finger, offered him some warming tea and some bread which he gatefully (well, Jean-Alexandre was grateful) accepted and consumed as if it was the first meal he'd had in days, thanking the crone from the bottom of his heart.

The afternoon wore on and he looked closer at the old woman, Olga, who had offered him his lunch. She fit the look of a witch and she had looked over his herbs several times. He was sure her eyes had lingered on some of the more exotic leaves in his collection, maybe with a view to acquiring some later? For some nefarious ritual or spell? It certainly bore thinking about. Maybe he should follow her later and 'question' her about it? Or maybe the young girl? After all she was the only one so far to directly ask him. She may be pretty but sometimes the outer beauty can detract from the vile core of a deeply corrupted soul. His meeting with her later was certainly worth preparing for.

Nobody else of note visited his stall, though he did actually make a few silver from a couple of villagers wantig a remedy for a cold and some red itchy rash, so he'd not have to use his own money for a meal later that evening. He packed up his wares and once again thanked Olga for her kindness, slipping into their parting conversation where he was staying in the hope that, should she be the one he was looking for, she would reveal herself to him later.

He limped back to his room at the inn, making a show of his slow progress up the stairs. Once in his room he checked his supplies in the false bottom of his chests. A half dozen glass bottles of blessed water, a sleeping potion, a slingshot and several silver bullets, a flintlock pistol and a couple of knives. Several thin lengths of leather bands were taken and placed in his deep pockets. The blades he secreted on his person - one in each boot and one at the base of his back under his shirt. The pistol he kept in the chest, under the herbs just in case. He couldn't see the girl being his real target, but maybe she was under the thrall of someone else, her slave or servant? Either way he intended to draw her out and get as much information from her as he could. He would find out as much as he could with the aid of alcohol, then if he thought it warranted further investigation he could drug and restrain her then use some of his considerable skill to 'persuade' her to divulge exactly what she knew. Once he was happy everything was in order he returned to the bar and waited for her arrival.

He hadn't been waiting long when he caught sight of her red cloak and long blonde curls again. He made a show of standing to greet her, a grimace of pain on his face as he sat back down after she'd curtsied. "Now my dear girl," He began, "There is no need for such formailty with me. I am but a simple herbalist and not above your station in any way. Please sit and take a drink with me." He smiled, showing a few blackened teeth and the lines of a man well into his middle age. The hardness of one of his blades pressed reassuringly awkwardly at his lower back, making it easy to look uncomfortable on the hard wooden chair.

"Before we go any further, you have me at a disadvantage - and I don't mean my age or my gammy leg… I don't even know your name." He laughed sloftly, gesturing to the barkeep for another glass and a fresh bottle of wine.

 

[Biting Girl]

"Oh, I do apologize sir. I hadn't realized that I'd forgotten to mention it." She said, as she sat down across the table from him. "My name is Amelia VanderVeer. I was the newest in town before you, being here just 6 months now." She said with a smile. A barmaid stopped by their table and asked the young woman what she wanted to drink.

"I'd like just a simple water, please" she asked polite as ever.

"No no," Jean-Alexandre interrupted her. "She'll have a glass of wine, on me." He said to the Barmaid, who curtsied, turned, and left.

Amelia blushed brightly. She wasn't used to being treated so nicely by people. Particularly strangers, such as the man before her. "Thank you, Sir." Amelia truly was grateful. She hadn't had wine in months. She didn't normally drink. She tended to let too much of herself go when she had too many. She smiled again at the Barmaid when she brought the glass of wine. Which was more like a tankard.

"Oh my! That is much too much!" Amelia said as she looked at the glass. Lifting it to her lips, she took a sip of the alcoholic beverage before leaning in a bit closer to her new found friend.

"So, my Dear Sir, I have a list of Herbs that I am in desperate need of. Would you be able to accommodate me?" She asked, reaching into her bag next to her, and pulling a small piece of parchment. She handed the list over to the man, and watched as he looked it over.

"I do realize a lot of these items may not be in season. And some you may not even sell. Such as the frogs legs. But I had hoped you'd know someone who does?" She whispered to him, taking another large gulp of the drink. The list consisted of:

:Wolfsbane
:Wormwood
:Frogs Legs
:Larkspur
:Boehmeria nivea
:Tumeric
enny Wort
:Cloves
:Bats Blood

When he asked her to accompany him to his room so they could discuss things further, she nodded quickly. The effects of the wine already working on her.

 

[ryanmcallister80]

When she gave her name he smiled warmly, but shook his head as she requested only water. "No no," Jean-Alexandre interrupted her. "She'll have a glass of wine, on me." He said to the Barmaid, who curtsied, turned, and left. He was happy that she didn't refuse, knowing that alcohol often loosened tongues and inhibitions. Something that often helped when dealing with people who were used to keeping secrets.

He was loathe to admit, this young woman was rather attractive. He usually refrained from such base desires as sexual attraction, but there was something about this girl, Amelia that almost stirred long denied emotions in his cold heart. She was pretty and when she leaned forward conspirationally he caught a hint of lavender in the air.

He was quite surprised that she was literate, as she produced a small handwritten list of herbs she wanted. He smiled as he took the list from her and read through the contents. He looked at her over the top of the parchment as he appeared to mentally tick off the items. "You do realise we could both get into serious trouble if we are caught even discussing this by the wrong person." He whispered, his tone that of a parent telling off their wayward child.

"I think it would be best if we took this somewhere private, away from curious eyes and ears.." He suggested, rolling up the parchment and putting it in one of his many pockets, smiling at her as if they'd just decided to get a room for another reason entirely. He offered his hand, helping her to her feet while he picked up their wine with the other and directed her to the back stairs up to the private bedrooms.

He limped to the door to his room, holding it open for her as she entered. "Make yourself at home Amelia" He said, pouring more wine into a tankard by the bed and handing it to her.

"There are some exotic items on your list my dear, some are rather expensive…" he cocked his head, appraising her. "How do you propose to pay for them?"

 

[Biting Girl]

As he held the door open for her she thanked him and entered. There wasn't much in the room but a bed and a small table. She took the tankard from him and started to sip at the wine. She tasted the hint of something, but thought that it could have been just the vessel she was drinking from.

As he spoke to her, she nodded. Amelia took a nice gulp of the Wine. She was starting to feel warm and fuzzy. "I've got some gold." She answered as she put a hand to her head. She was starting to get dizzy now. She tried to shake it off but couldn't.

Could it be the wine? Or something else... she thought to herself as she looked around for a seat. The only thing she saw was the bed. Before she could gracefully sit, she fell to the floor, her eyes blurring, and she passed out.

 

[ryanmcallister80]

He smiled as Amelia told him she had gold - though the real reason for his smile was more to do with the fact he could tell that the drug he'd slipped into the bottle on their way up the stairs was having an effect on the slightly built girl.

He nodded as if he was agreeing with her, standing as she appeared to look for somewhere to sit down, the tankard slipping from from her hand as she succumbed to the fast acting drug. His stick was forgotten and his limp gone as he caught her in one strong arm before she hit the floor, the tankard taken from her limp grasp and placed on the table.

Checking her breathing, he smiled clinically - the drug had worked well, she was breathing but slowly and shallowly, she would be asleep long enough for him to do what he needed to secure her.

He took off her plush red cloak and put it at the foot of his bed, her short stature leaving plenty room as he placed her head on the pillow and laid her out on the plump matress. He worked quickly, taking the leather straps from his pocket and bound her wrists to the bed posts, but found he couldn't do the same with her legs as she was too short, so he had to make do with simply binding her ankles together for the moment.

He took a measured look at her petite form on the bed, her thick blonde tresses spilled out over the white pillow and over her shoulders. He estimated she was under five feet tall and less than He took off her shoes and put them neatly at the foot of the bed and took another strip of cloth from his pocket and blindfolded her.

He quickly searched her clothing for any concealed weapons or other items though the only thing of note was a small package in her bag that he assumed must be some kind of powder bomb. He ran his hands over her body, firstly from her shoulders down her sides, noting the ribbing of a boned corset that ended just above her slim waist, then back up her stomach, over her well rounded boosm - he refrained from lingering there with an effort of will - and round under her body, finding no concealed weapons there. He pulled up her skirt and was more than a little shocked to find she had no underclothes on besides the white corset she wore to conceal her breasts - the join of her shapely thighs was bare, exposing her modesty to him, much to his discomfort... He felt a stirring in his loins and he quickly dropped the hem of her dress and looked away, busying his mind with thoughts of how he would likely get a confession from her... Although that - for some reason - was not entirely successful at removing the image of her smooth, porecelain skin from his mind's eye. He turned his attention to the small package he had discovered in her bag.

His examination of the package was interrupted by a small moan that escaped from the girls lips. He stood by the bed and watched as she slowly recovered from the effects of his drug, content to let her wake naturally.

"Well, well, well... it would appear the rumours were true, there is a witch in this backwater after all. Who else would be trying to buy such herbs?" His voice was stern but low, not wanting it to carry beyond the walls of his room, lest he be incorrect in his accusation and his cover be blown.

 

[Biting Girl]

Amelia tried to open her eyes, but found that she was blinded by some sort of cloth. Moving her hands, she could feel they were bound at the bed posts, and her ankles were bound together as well. A panic set in as she realized that he'd gotten the better of her.

"Well, well, well... it would appear the rumours were true, there is a witch in this backwater after all. Who else would be trying to buy such herbs?" She could hear the man say as he stood next to the bed.

"But... I.... Please! You don't understand! I'm not that kind of witch..." she stopped quickly at the end of her pleading, realizing she'd just confessed to the man. "Please! Please let me go and you can have all of my gold and I won't ever bother you again! Please Sir!" She struggled against the leather straps some more, as she begged. Tears started to soak the cloth that had blinded her. All she ever wanted to do was help people. And now it was her who felt helpless.

When she didn't get a response, she cried out softly, "Hello? Please. Please don't do this to me Sir."

 

[ryanmcallister80]

For some reason he took pleasure in her panic, seeing the expression on her face as she woke to find herself bound and helpless brought a smile to his face, though it didn't extend to his cold eyes. No matter, she could not see him yet and he intended it to stay that way, disguised or not.

In her panic, the young witch immediately incriminated herself, causing him to laugh "Ha.. how naïve of you… I was hoping to have to work for a confession, I am almost disappointed little girl." He said, a subtle hint of his intent in his voice.

"Gold?" He snorted. "I do not want your gold little Amelia. I am not some thief, some lowly cut-purse." He replied, his pride insulted by such an implication. "By your own tongue, you are a witch and you shall burn as a witch but not before you confess all your sins and name all in your coven so as I can find them and purge the land of their taint also." His voice rose as he spoke, his distain for her kind obvious in the way he virtually spat out the word witch.

"Pray tell, why I should spare you from the flame of justice?" He asked, bending down so his face was close to hers as she lay sobbing on the bed. He turned his head and found he could see her chest rise and fall with each intake of breath, each sob that wracked her body as she struggled agains ther bonds. He noted again the swell of her full boosom and how it was barely kept in check by the white boned corset she wore… it was unusually distracting, something he would usually take no notice of, but this girl, this young slip of a woman…

 

[Biting Girl]

"Please Sir, I beg of you. I am not a witch as you have so quickly named me. I am more of a healer. I help those that need help. I do not prey on innocent people, and I certainly do not do harm. Please, give me the chance to prove that to you."

The cloth that covered her eyes was soaked with her tears. She struggled against the bonds as she spoke, realizing that one of the ropes around her hands was loose.

"Please, look in my bag Sir. You will not find wicked potions or hex books of any kind. Simple herbs is all I seek. PLEASE!"

She shouted loudly, hoping that someone would hear her shouts and come to investigate. And she was lucky enough to find that it worked. Shortly after a loud banging came to the door. She continued to struggle against the bonds, as she heard the man walk to the door and open it.

Managing to wiggle her hands free as the man spoke to whomever had come to see, she lifted the fabric from her eyes, and quickly untied herself. Leaving her bag behind, she lept from the room window to a stack of hay that lay beneath it. She heard the man shouting out of the window behind her as she struggled to gain her footing. Somehow, she'd managed to twist her ankle, and she tried to run.