Beyond Saving

[Pots]

A cacophony of loosely scattering rocks broke the deadly stillness of the waning sundown. The sun sat precariously low on the horizon; tauntingly, basking the well-rooted forests and deep-seated lakes with what little excess energy it had to spare. The waters shifted beneath the mottled, greying sky and treetops rusted gently in a few brief moments before deafening silence fell upon the world, fading rays winking across the heavens, slashed with indigo, red and yellow…

She had descended, spurred on by reliable sources, telltale fables of wide-reaching moors and marshes, where the loamy meadow-bottom sprawl with the short, fat stems and tufted leaves of the mandrake in lush abundance. She navigated the restlessness in the winding, serpent-like side paths with a tinge of nervousness gnawing at the back of her head, a flaming curtain of red swirling gently in the evening breeze; a flickering abyss.

The forest had a choking denseness in the air and the soft susurration of branches felt somehow heavy in the ears. At first glance, it was dark and foreboding, but there was an eerie peace in its sullen ambiance unlike even more tenebrous places. There was a sickness in the ancient pitted cobbles of the old road, or so certain ragged indigents would have you believe.

Elisa recalled vividly, many moons past, this raving creature of a man. This filthy, toothless miscreant had barrelled into town and boasted an uncanny knowledge of mankind’s ruin and prognosticated publicly that left unchecked, incomprehensible forces would soon unleash doom upon the world. Any sane person would have shrugged it off as a drunkard’s alcoholic fever dream, but to her bafflement, doing so proved maddeningly impossible.

A vast clearing soon stretched out in front of her, the celestial body of the moon greeting her with its plentiful light, hanging ripely like a great luminous pearl on the radiant breast of heaven. Slackening waters of river spun about the plain, overflowing in sluggish, reed-clogged channels and sedge-hidden pools. Among osiers and alders on a low, mound-shaped elevation, the dull glow of Mandragora readily apparent in the descending darkness, a great oak looming over their bed.

A hop and a skip later, she began the delicate process of extracting its roots. Methodically, she drizzled salt around her chosen specimen in question, three tidy rings circling its centre. Earplugs in place, she began the elusive uprooting with a light tug and tender twists until the fleshly, bifurcated roots of the plant loosened its grip on the clay.

The earthling nary quipped for a moment before it fell silent between her dainty fingers, and she was better off for it. The knot seemed of greater size than elsewhere throughout the sorcery-ridden province and as Elisa turned to advance to the nearest village, she couldn’t help but wonder why.

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The delightful and flamboyant atmosphere of the town sat well with Elisa as always, the soft melody of babbling voices like a soothing mountain river to her ears. With its ceramic tile rooftops, Redstone walls and flowing swarms of busy people, the place had an almost otherworldly feel to it. She drank in the colours, the aromas and the ambiance like an irresistible elixir.

She thrived on interacting with the stall holders, each one a rare, untouched caricature of bubbly friendliness. They knew her by name and often kept special deliveries tugged away in the back for her; rare and pricey ingredients that she had no chance of recovering herself. “Oh, you wouldn’t happen to have any cascarilla, would you?” she Elisa quipped, leaning over with leering eyes. “Of course, dear”, the man boomed, burly fingers wrapping her wares. She mused in response, then slid onwards “Thank you as always!” She was gracious for their kindness, always.

She weaved through the crowds, edging through the dense flood of people with her bags getting fuller by the minute. The air was perfumed with produce, the grounds gritty stone, the air a perfect pre-winter chill with gentle gusts begging the interconnected web of crimson-weaved locks to flutter in a brilliant flit.

It was then that a most obscure sight caught her attention, never before seen to her knowledge. A puppeteering lady was beckoning her little figurines with a lopsided smile of her bewitching face. A small crowd of children and adult alike gathered around her makeshift theatre, obviously deeply absorbed by the display at hand. Against her better judgement, curiosity got the better of her. She scooted over to join the flourishing demonstration with a puzzling glint in the dark of her eyes.

 

[Lady Bloody Ava]

The crowd was abuzz! So many people! So many voices to meld with those in her adorable head! Long crimson locks were tied back in a high ponytail just aching to be tugged. Dark eyes adorned with thick lashes and smeared black coal-like substance staining around both eyes. Dry thick lips painted an eerie red with a silver piercing through the lower one. Despite such appearances, she held a smile that lured many bystanders. A tattered cream colored corset hugged the luscious frame of her body. Ripped fishnet stockings adorned shapely legs. With her lower tidbits barely covered with remnants of ripped pants. Nails were long enough to be filed into claws from petite fingertips. Her left arm dawned a fingerless white and stained arm length fingerless glove. Healed claw marks could be seen on the curve of one breast, an exposed arm, and here and there on her legs. The thickness seemed to vary, suggesting different causes and separate occasions.

Right now, children were in awe at the sight of a possessed doll that jumped from his owner's shoulder to retrieve a few coins tossed upon the ground for the display. "Dolly, don't greedy. Put the coins away and play with the children!" The oddly dressed woman scolded the eerie looking faceless doll. "Whatis that? Oh no..." She laughed openly while speaking to herself. " No... hmm... I see no one like that. Perhaps you're mistaken. Oh, that's not nice..." A wicked smile danced upon her lips. The voices were so mean sometimes and so pushy! Oh well, it was a simple request and she enjoyed things to do.

"Who is the bloody hell are you talkin too?" A thick pot-bellied man asked as he marveled at the girl with a body that he could have fun with. "This one is a mad one, she is..." In that instance, a high pitched laughter pierced the air. "I'm not mad, my dear, merely gifted. That's what they say." Upon tips of her toes, she closed the gap between her at the filthy male. "They say you're bad... oh yes. Two dead wives?! Oh my.... such a naughty man. And you call me mad..." Laughter rang through the air as she danced around the man. Now almost everyone knew everyone in this town and there was no way that anyone could not notice the odd being that was this 'Dolly' so how could she know that two of his wives died. Even more, why did she speak as though he had done it? "He killed his wife, the love of his Life, and did it again to savor the sin...the first with a knife in the midst of a strife, the next was drowned after he was found fooling around...." This she sang twice while dancing around the man. The man was so shocked he could not make a word past the lump in his fat throat. Someone in the crowd shouted, "I knew he did it! Filthy pig killed Elena and Meredith!! You heard the woman!"

The ragdoll performed cartwheels on the ground and climbed from one child to another like parkour. The scantily clad woman danced her way back to the center and jumped upon some stacked crates and bowed before the stirring crowd. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls. I hope you enjoyed that little reveal. Mind your demons, my dears and have a lovely day." With one more glorious bow she walked off. Another entertained crowd and a nice satchel of coins. This would tide her over until their next destination. "What do you mean that wasn't nice? The girls told the tale and I merely sang it. That was him, right? Then what the matter, silly?" The woman smiled and openly spoke to herself with a humored laugh and a constant smile. She tossed a coin to a merchant who tossed her an apple. Fingers and an impressive set of canines sunk into the juicy fruit and casually walked with the doll perched upon her creamy shoulders.

 

[xavierrol]

A lone rider crested the hill just west of the town, he paused as the town came into view, shifting in his stirrups slightly as if to stretch his legs. It wasn't a major town, too small for a brothel as he recalled which was unfortunate. Also the kind of place where most people knew each other and though Xavier had passed through many times, he was still an outsider. Still the symbol on his armor would command a certain amount of tolerance and respect, of course it would also burden him with the needs and fears of the townsfolk. The Order of the Silver Flame and its knights and priests spread law and order throughout the realm, especially in such backwaters as this. Regardless of his duties, it would be good to have someone to talk to even if just for a few days. He looked forward to the diversion and hoped he could relax and resupply, the thought of some fresh food that he didn't have to kill himself was appealing as well.

He should have checked in with the local constabulary but once he had his horse watered and stabled, he couldn't resist taking a tour of the market. Spending so much time alone on the road, he loved the sounds and smells of the market. He watched the faces, especially of the ladies, though they were for the most part rather plain. Wasn't that however the kind of girl he was supposed to meet, marry and settle down with to raise a family? 'Good stock' was what his father would have called them. But then he saw a beauty who stood out among the crowd as if she were the only color in an otherwise monochromatic world. He followed along, not wanting to be too obvious but gradually gaining on her. As he closed the distance between them, he watched her easy banter with the merchants, and the flow of her red hair. She was something special, he knew that without even speaking to her. As he got nearer he struggled with what he could possibly say to her, he mechanically nodded or waved to those that noticed him, ignoring the fresh fruits and other delicacies he had so looked forward to.

He had just missed the puppet show but there was still some commotion about, especially the protestations of a certain portly man who seemed much aggrieved. Xavier was just about to reach the red haired beauty when the man noticed him and called urgently. One would think his house was a fire by the way he acted. "She's a witch I tell you, luring our children to some unholy purpose." He scattered accusations as if it were seed corn. Xavier had little choice but to stop and listen, watching furtively as the beauty continued on, it took him a few moments to even look at the man so in need of the Flame's justice. "Who is a witch?" He asked, his voice dripping with enough displeasure to give the man pause, but sadly not dissuade him from continuing to talk. "Come, I'll show you." He led Xavier through the crowd until they caught up with the sexy little puppeteer. She was dressed like a whore who had seen better days, though her body appeared top shelf, at least that was Xavier's thought at first glance. Not at all the kind of girl a knight of the Order would associate with outside of his official duties, but damn she looked like she could be fun. Xavier's long legs quickly closed the distance between them, he had no difficulty looking too direct or knowing what to say. "You there." He said as a firm hand gripped her shoulder, the one without the doll, and turned her towards him. But as his eyes met hers, he couldn't find the words that should have come very easy to him, instead he stood there dumbfounded for a moment as he felt she was looking into his soul.

 

[Plague Raven]

The Black Willow Forest was a place most grim in appearance, where the leaves were few and of a darker tone, and the setting sun was the only glimpse of physical, tangible hope is this miasmic land.

Which is precisely why it was the perfect place to insert a graveyard, a graveyard for humanity and the sapient races of the land to place their dead loved ones so that their bones could be left undisturbed and their loved ones could be memorialised.

The dominant species within these lands were the predatory wolves and the scavenging ravens. They were united by a single leader - the Valravn.

This beast, with the frontal body of a raven and the hind of a wolf, with a chimerical body arrangement akin to a gryphon, was a monster that ruled over its brethren. The result of a raven that had eaten the corpse of a fallen, valiant warrior in battle, it was more intelligent than most monsters, and was more benevolent as well, despite what word might say.

That was not much, persay, for we all know that most monsters were the very opposite of this trait.

The Valravn watches over a petite girl who was eating fresh from a gazelle, unfortunate to be hunted by her. Its blood splattered over her nude figure as her fangs sank into it. The frontal fringes of her dirty blonde hair were starting to turn red as well. The girl looks at the Valravn in the eyes and howls.

In response, the monster sank its beak into the prey and began to pick at its flesh, eating alongside the wild girl as a large, beating night-hued wing covered the girl like a blanket.

Who knows how many of such moments they were going to have together again?

~~~

"Bravo! Bravo!"

Beside Elisa, the sound of clapping was heard as the puppet and puppeteer did the performances. This man, the one who stood beside her, was described to be blonde in hair, emerald in eyes and fair in skin. He wore a hood, uncloaked to reveal his entire face. He wholeheartedly enjoyed the marvel, based on his smile, and he even smiled throughout the puppet exposing the fat man's trysts and crimes, as if he saw them as part of the greater act.

"It has been a long time since I have been to such a show," the man converses with Elisa, "I never remembered them being this real, but it's good to see something I thought was gone so long ago. I assume that you are here to relive some old times as well, young miss?"

The man then saw the sight - a knight walking up to the puppeteer. He crossed his arms and looked at the sight, awaiting its development.

 

[Lady Bloody Ava]

Dolly was in the midst of a heated conversation with the demons in her head, looking just as daft, as always. "You see who?... Oh come now, it's been how long? What are the odds of..." The whorish looking woman turned on the spot to full face the owner of the firm grip upon her shoulder. "Oooooh... don't you look delicious enough to eat and you..." Warm eyes gazed upon the wife killer with the smile of a black widow. "Looking to repent for murders of your wives? They're not happy. Quite restless." Any word anyone else wished to say after that was met with her left index finger held up to their face, signaling that they hold their tongue for a moment. "Oh! This is him? Xavier... RIverborne.... why yes he is indeed handsome." Again, the woman was off her rocker! Who in hell was she talking to that she would blatantly ignore the imposing figure before her? A little chuckle and that wicked smile danced upon her lips. "I wouldn't harm a hair on his handsome head. Xavier Riverborne, Knight of the Order of the Silver Flame.... oh a healer? I rather like my scars....tells some very interesting stories." Bold eyes looked him from head to toe with no remorse while speaking to someone that neither could see nor hear before finally speaking to the well-dressed meal before her. " Poor dear, you nearly met the same fate as your parents, nearly the same manner, no less." The tone she spoke was saddening and laced with pity, but it switched a full one-eighty to the most cheerful and bubbly woman she was in the circle of people. "Oh! Where are my manners... Isis Dolly de Beaumont. Call me Dolly. If your mother would stop crying long enough for me to hear my own thoughts...she says 'hello' and as cliche as this sounds, your father is impressed with you... as am I. Care to be friends? Is there anything wrong?" The ragdoll upon her shoulder stood up and appeared to be whispering in her ear. Whatever was said could clearly be heard only by her and it had to have been funny. "A witch? You think he thinks I'm a witch. Oh dolly, that's truly hilarious...clearly, he clearly comes to ask me if this man truly did kill his last two wives. The voices say yes. Both women scream maddeningly in my mind. Oh yes... He killed his wife, the love of his Life, and did it again to savor the sin...the first with a knife in the midst of a strife, the next was drowned after he was found fooling around...." The song was sung once more with a low and eerie melody and a look that could not have the guilty one questioning the truth. "Ask him, dear Knight... even your parents agree that what he did justifies that he be hung by his balls in a dungeon and stabbed in non-lethal areas so that he slowly bleeds to death. Especially since Meredith was pregnant with his child when he drowned her. Strikes a cord with you, doesn't it Xavier?" This matter of fact tone sent chills to dance across every inch of the sweating murderer's face. Only he knew that Meredith was possibly pregnant, so how on God's green earth did this stranger from out of nowhere find out? The swine of a man clutched his chest from a physical pain that dropped him to a floor. "This is where I think you should run and never return. Your fate is sealed. The blood you have spilled cannot be washed away. And people call me mad... are we done here?" The last question was spoken as though she were an impatient toddler with a tilted head and observant look at the Knight, as though she were still reading him.

 

[Pots]

Spiral bound book in hand, she scrawled away, illegible loops and convoluted handwriting sprawling vividly across the crisp pages, crazy symbols drawn hastily in the margins. Robotically, her hand led the pen in elaborate patterns, a seemingly dull sketch bearing no intrinsic merit spawning upon the obscurity of the pages, though, soon, the weightless dance bore fruit, a detailed depiction of the gawking woman and the company that followed in her wake, readily apparent now. She performed an elaborate pantomime of keeping quiet, focused solely on the task at hand.

In art and creativity, spirits rise, in stories we are enthralled and elevated. So enthralled, in fact, that it took her several lengthy moments and a personal wakeup call to snap her back into attention. Luscious lashes fluttered over the deep pools of her eyes and the distinct creaking of leather tore through the air as the tome in her hand cracked shut with an azurite shower of gleaming runes and signs to show for the effort.

It was only just now that she realised the show had ended and furthermore, that someone was having an unfairly maligned one-sided conversation with themselves. She whipped her head around to the inquisitive attention, a large serpent-eye jewel stone adorning her forehead with its mere presence. It glittered like the sun-kissed ocean lapping the sands; the brilliant blue hue; radiant and shining, reigning supreme amongst most jewels and gems, its perfect features scorning those of others.

Her soft, ivory shoulders shifted under the a brownish-grey wrapping made of flexible leather. Underneath it consisted creamy sheets of silk, soft, satiny fabric, peppering her body with soft, sensual kisses. A semi-circular, high collar clung to her slender neck and a heavy, roped cloak clutched her shoulders with a frightening precision. It bottomed out in a frizzled jungle of lacy straps.

Cherry-red curls framed her accommodating face as a beatific smile, mouth small and rosy. Tinkle, pop, a voice like a thousand tiny bells, sweeter than birdsong, a voice as softly whispered as the swaying grass, the buzz of tiny wings beating. “I apologise profusely for my absent-mindedness, Sir,” hand over heart, she bobbed her head in apologetic fashion, eyes travelling the full length of the man before her, up and down, like a farmer would a fetching horse.

Their eyes met briefly, though, her interest was clearly elsewhere. The exchange was small and fleeting, a leering smile and an attentive stare seeing right through him to the transaction in the background. Her emotions were not easily hidden on her innocent face. Her curiosity was evident in the crease of her lovely brow and the down-curve of her full lips.

Though, she did manage to eventually pry herself from the inspection with a cheerful, “Yes… Yes! That was quite the display. Never seen anything quite like it, in fact.” She tucked her precious knowledge into her voluminous rope, then continued, “You’re quite the spectacle to look at as well, Sir.” Every now and again, her vision would shift, something puzzling in the woman’s gait. “Old times, you ask? No. No. Definitely not. I’m afraid it’s much more mundane. I’m simply grocery shopping, see!” She displayed the full bag with a theatrical body movement and a matching cheerful expression.

 

[Black_Out]

The swirling chatter and conversation that had erupted around Dolly's theatrical display of blunt musings, sing song accusations, and devilish puppetry had finally begun to simmer now that the porcelain would be witch had moved along on her merry way. Business as usual began to resume around the various merchant stalls in the small township as the voices of salesmen and women filled the air. They pointed fingers, beckoned to strangers, waved for their attentions all in effort to draw them in for a sale.

Smelling opportunity the traveling merchant leaned forward to cast his greedy gaze around the crowded market. The snub nosed somewhat plump merchant in a loose tan cotton shirt and heavy worn brown pants caught sight of the pair nearby. To him they looked like a noble couple, surely they had plenty of wealth to share. "M'lord!" He exclaimed towards the red haired creamy skinned vixen and the nearby young gentleman that stood at her side. "M'lady!" Workman like clean hands, full of callouses and dirty nails waved for their attention. "I do hope your having a splendid day, name's Travis, and.." He paused for dramatic effect as he gestured towards his covered wagon where a dulled once fanciful sign hung that read Travis's Trinkets. "..this is Travis's Trinkets."

Before the pair could even get a word in edge wise the exuberant merchant pushed forward with his sales pitch. "You look like a discerning couple, of refined tastes and exceptional palettes." His hands were already pushing a wide and stocky silver goblet forward along with a dark hand blown glass bottle decorated with flowing elven script. "I have this fine rare elven vintage of wine to offer, a rich and deep merlot, sparkling with an effervescent tone of floral and oaken notes. The goblet is included, crafted by the very hands of the recluse wizard Edward Hallengast himself." His smile beamed infectiously as his eager eyes bounced between the pair. "It might be magic, it might not, he threw it in for free and I'm willing to pass the savings on down the line to you, all for, oh, twenty gold crowns." His right brow rose and perched as he adjusted the fit of his shirt around his tanned neckline. "If that doesn't interest you, have a look around, please. I have plenty of other things for sale."

Disiyir sat there, looking rather like a finely crafted silver goblet, though deep within molded silver his restless spirit stirred. The passing attraction and chaos that consumed the area about Dolly had risen him from his stupor. Now though his little beady eyes looked outwards towards the duo that the merchant was working to pawn him off too. They wouldn't notice his puckered lips, or the way he stared at the breasts of Elisa before he guzzled down a bottle of wine. No, he was just simply one of the many figures molded into the silver goblets decorative body. It was a jovial scene, full of revelry, of nude men, women, and fairy folk, all taking part in a party that was excessive in every degree.

 

[xavierrol]

The girl's behavior was so bizarre it caused Xavier to wonder if she wasn't simply mad but not necessarily dangerous. Though it was hard to deny the raw sexual appeal of her and he had the rather unusual experience of fearing for his own virtue for a brief moment. He almost smiled at the thought of this small creature harming him. Almost reflexively his hand went from her shoulder to her upper arm, gripping it tight enough to keep her from breaking away on him. He had learned early on it was easier to keep someone close than to have to chase them. She had clearly gotten under the fat man's skin but there were plenty of so called seers who claimed to speak to the dead, a clever act but as long as she wasn't extorting the fat bastard it wasn't exactly against the law. But then she spoke his name, his full name which few in these parts would know. It took him a few moments to realize she was having a conversation with herself, or at least so it seemed though the more he listened the more it seemed there was more than one voice coming out of her pretty little mouth. Her words and tone were most unsettling but when she mentioned his parents, his grip tightened around her arm. He didn't mean to cause her pain, though from the look of her it was likely she had felt worse, or at least it would be painful for a normal person of her size and stature, but she was far from normal.

"How dare you speak of my parents?" He hissed low under his breath so few besides her would hear unless they were listening quite closely. Xavier was not the most intellectual of men in the best of circumstances but his mind struggled to keep up with Dolly's rapid fire talk. As she introduced herself he almost let her go to bow and reciprocate but instead he grabbed her other arm forcefully. "Stop speaking of my mother!" He could feel his anger rising, she was getting under his skin as well, but he was supposed to be in charge of situations like this. As she asked him if anything was wrong he looked like his head might well explode right there. His jaw was clenched and a vein was rising along one temple. He thought his mind was playing tricks on him as her doll moved on its own to whisper in her ear. He puzzled over her accusations, they were serious indeed but he knew not the details of this man's widowing and unless he was much more dangerous than he looked, it would be a matter for the constables. Xavier ignored the fat man but shook Dolly with more force than he intended, nearly knocking the doll off her shoulder when she again mentioned his parents. She knew too much she shouldn't, that no one knew other than he and his adoptive father.

The first time Xavier noticed the fat man since the conversation started was when he fell to the ground clutching his chest. His mind finally took a moment to try to process what she was saying and what he was supposed to be doing here. He didn't really think she was a witch, at least not until one of the bystanders went to the fallen man and said "He's dead." The words hung there for a moment before the crowd began to murmur. A woman screamed "She really is a witch." Xavier's eyes focused on Dolly as if he were looking at her for the first time. He had a million questions to ask her, but suddenly he knew what he had to do. "No Miss Beaumont, we are not done here, not by a long shot." He looked to the three constables who had gathered around the commotion. "Bind her hands and best to gag her so she doesn't cast a spell upon you." He told them, feeling himself foolish for not realizing her true nature earlier. He held her until the bound her tightly, he even inspected their work. "I'll be by within the hour to question her." He felt himself trembling slightly once he released her, he had never felt like this before. Something deep within him said he needed to talk to this woman, not about the death of two wives, but two other deaths, long ago.

 

[TheCorsair]

“Roll up, roll up,” called the blind peddler, tapping around with his stick to make sure he had a clear space before laying out his pack. “I’ve potions to soothe your head and balms to soothe your aches, lucky charms and wise words. Roll up, roll up!”

He was middling tall, the blind man, with a clean-shaven face that might be called handsome by someone with the right tasted and shaggy brown hair held back by the strip of black cloth that covered his eyes. He worked quickly and carefully, unpacking his wares by feel and setting them out by size and shape of bottle. From the surety of his motions, it was clear he’d been blind long enough to have learned to live with his disability.

“Roll up, roll up,” he called. “Blind Tom’s the name! And Blind Tom’s patent potions are the cure for your troubles!” He jabbed out with his stick, managing to point out a rotund merchant passing by. “Aides for the digestion. Philtres to keep the ladies happy! And...”. The stick lashed down, cracking the knuckles of a sticky-fingered young man who was trying to lift a bottle. “Nine if that now, my lad! It’s Blind Tom, not Blind and Deaf Tom!”

“And it’s lass, not lad!” the youth snapped back, sucking bruised knuckles.

“Then that’s the wrong potion, young lass!” Blind Tom laughed, nudging the bottle with his stick. “If your man’s not lasting, you want this one.”

“Phaugh,” the girl spat. “I’ve got no man.”

Blind Tom hunkered down, fingers drifting until he found a small round bottle. “This one, then,” he said with a conspiratorial whisper. “Dab it behind your ears and between your breasts, and the boys - and, more importantly, the men - will be vying for your favor.” He held it up, almost in front of her eyes. “Three shillings.”

“One,” she countered.

-*-

In truth Blind Tom - or Rob Isley, to use his real name - could see perfectly well. The black gauze bound about his eyes darkened his vision slightly, but he could see well enough to watch the girl’s reaction. She was pretty enough, he decided. Not a great beauty, but charming beneath her scowl. He let himself be talked down to a shilling sixpence, because it was just perfume cut with cheap wine that he’d murmured a few words over. But from the exaggerated sway in her hips as she walked off, and the interests looks a few village boys cast her way, the magic was clearly working.

“Roll up, roll up!” he called. “Charms and medicines, and rare books.” Rare for this village, at least. Common enough in the city he’d fled, though. “Roll...”

Nobody was paying attention. Everyone was watching the puppeteer, who some goodwife was loudly proclaiming a witch. A bravo of some sort he’d her right, assisting the constabkes in bonding her, and...

Oh. Oh shit. He knew that bravo. Well, more accurately, he recognized that bravo. Hell, he’d fucked that bravo one night a month and a half back, when he’d had a belly full of cheap wine and an itch that needed scratching. It had seemed a good idea, drunk in the dark, but not so much so the next morning.

Not that Xavier had been a bad lay. He just wasn’t Rob’s type. Far too sour, for one thing.

But the puppeteer, now. She looked like a wild type. Perhaps a little too wild? Perhaps. But, well, she certainly looked like she’d be worth the risk to find out. Assuming they didn’t stretch her fair neck a few inches on the leafless tree for witchcraft, anyway. But that was none of his business.

It is your business.

Shit.

Umbra stood at his left hand and Halo at his right, the black and silver hunting cats of the Four-Faced Moon. Invisible to everyone else, they were there to harass him into some daft errand of the daft Changing God. “Go away,” he hissed.

She is not our Master’s, but she is touched by the Moon, Umbra declared.

“That’s nice,” Rob hissed. “So it’s nothing to do with..,”

It is the desire of Teldir that she receive aid, added Halo.

“...me, and why in the hells do I bother?” he sighed. “Piss off. I’m busy.” Busy not getting hanged for helping an accused witch, he added.

The cats vanished without a word. He didn’t relax. They would, he knew from long experience, be back.

 

[Lady Bloody Ava]

"Oh.. well, look at that! Guilt killed the man in the end! Oh, that is hilarious!" Dolly was caught laughing when Xavier answer her previous question before the man died. SHe even nudged the man with her foot just to make sure he was stone cold dead. Karma was such a bitch and Dolly enjoyed being best friends with her. "Wanting to take this somewhere a little more private, eh?", the woman teased with a wicked smile, "Bound and gagged? No need to threaten me with a good time Xavier Riverborne." There was no struggle on her part. Scarred wrists were bound together behind her back and the position and pushed her breasts forward. The ragdoll went limp and fell to the floor as his master was hauled off and escorted to a stone building with a fence of spiked posts around the perimeter. Torches lined a wide hall with smaller halls branching off of it. For now, the woman was tossed in a cell and locked in. "Fuckin witch'", one of the guardsman spat out before the cell door closed with a clan and was locked in place.

The easily entertained woman did a split on the spot and there she sat for a moment with her head tilting from side to side. Don't worry he will return. Even you as his mother should understand that curiosity eating within the pit of his stomach, besides!! I get a new friend! The voices of demons and lost souls bickered within her head and it comforted Dolly. To not hear them AND be along with drive her to true madness and probably death. Even with a gag, she hummed a tune while rocking back and forth within her split position. Her flexibility was something to be admired and it was a nice bonus to some friends.

The ragdoll sat upon the dirty ground, walked and trampled on by the time his master was long gone. Out of nowhere, the thing stood up on its two feet. Stealth was the game and it had to find its owner. Feet, feet everywhere. His owner was directionally impaired to the max, so there was no way he could use her judgment to find her whereabouts. This woman had escaped death by the skin of her teeth numerous times. More often than not she was bruised and bloodied up, but alive, none the less.

 

[Pots]

Elisa crooned her neck as the perfunctory display of concern moved on, apparently arrested? No matter, the stockade wasn’t far away, she had time to focus on the conversation with the prismatic and sultry stranger. However, curiosity, interest, and obsession, mile markers on her road to damnation, they tore at her insides and branded her mind with a compulsive need to investigate, as...

Fresh, overlapping impressions soon appeared in the soft soil beside them, and her eyes cracked open in the moment, slender brows rising high on her subtle forehead. A scowl grew pronounced under tenting brows and a caustic ribble settled in the back of her throat then. “Ahem... if you will excuse me for a mome-...” halfway through her excuse, she lept in the direction of the anomaly that was occurring before her, a deliberately heavy boot-imprint on the ground signaling a rising surge of power.

Her bright, intense eyes glinted, like lanterns reflecting the moonlight on a shimmering pool. Her unmoving gaze was accompanied by deliberate slow breathing, mellow, soothing eyes narrowing into viper slit-like pupils for a moment. Then they expanded; so solid, so bright, the exact lustrous color of a polished shard of sapphire, with swirls of glittering onyx black and tinges of blue rounding the edges. She kept her judgement in them, always, a burning animosity developed through a lifetime of evaluation.

White-knuckled, she extended an exquisite hand towards the eerie figurine. A violent gust of air spiralled her figure, sending crimson locks skyward, fingertips pulsing with a barely felt, searing impression. A swirling, disorganized parchment of see-through, arcane origin erupted from her palm, paper-thin, shimmering runes shrouding the main bulk of the beam. It wrapped the damnable little thing with an artificial cage-like construction of pure crystalline energy.

Her pupils dulled down as she spun the makeshift prison between her eager fingers and eyed the creature within with immense intrigue and wonderment. Her lips pursed and her vision went cross-eyed for a second, mind deeply entangled in conflicting thoughts. “Do you speak, little creature?”, she cooed with a captivated undertone, “or perhaps… Hmm.” She turned on the spot and meandered back towards the stranger with an effortless saunter, enthralled face halfway smeared across the panel of the box she was conversing with. “Why did they take your master away? I would like to exchange some words with her if at all possible.”

Trouble always lingered nearby with public use of magic, but things were a tad different here. She was a respected schooler and herbalist, that had assisted countless lives throughout the years. She was known to use it sparingly, and it had granted her a permit that allowed minimal usage in crowded places. Rather than another ruckus, nothing but a handful of sideways glances occurred.

Mere moments later, another bewilderment hit her ears, the words heavy, like a relentless jackhammering pounding away at her eardrums. Instinctively, she stowed the box away, hiding its existence in a momentary cape-wrapped stowaway. Befuddled, she took one half-assed glance at the supposedly “magical” goblet and lopped a heavy, overflowing pouch onto the counter with a metallic clang. She swiftly flipped the coin between her dexterous fingers, spun them in the direction of the blaring retailer, snatched the possible artefact off the table and then promptly, she returned to the crudely interrupted conversation with her visitor.

 

[Lady Bloody Ava]

The damned doll was running and when he was snagged, his only thought was, "Oh fuck." He was the latest soul to be summoned into the doll. In his last life, his name was Petrov and was a sneaky thief with a fetish for untouched flesh. Messed with the wrong woman and then he died. Fucked up, yes, but it happened. His soul was extracted from the endless black stream of an abyss where they floated and he found himself in a new body! It was a damned doll. Even worse... Dolly was frightening. Mind you the man had been six foot eight, beefy, and very strong. This woman would revel in pain and had a dexterity and flexibility to shock all. The things he'd seen her do would shake a man to his core they have him mesmerized and curious to see what she could do with him. He had to find Dolly. He'd rather inhabit the doll than float around for the rest of his days in the abyss of the damned.

What kind of witchcraft was this? He was trapped! Now, this was a fuckin' witch if he'd ever seen one. Albeit a damn sexy one, but a witch none the less. "Do you want me to talk?" He finally responded after being tossed about like a... well, a ragdoll, and stashed away. "You're the only one that can hear me so don't go actin' like my damn master. Dolly's got some new guests in that head of hers. The guy's mother and the dead man's ex-wives. A set of naggin bitches they were. I'd iv killed em' myself if they wouldn't shut up. Either way, her mind is fucked up with demons and lost souls. She was just tryin' to help. What she said is true, he did kill em and that unborn baby too..." Petrov had a tendency to never shut up well, which was fine with Dolly. Simply white noise. "Ey! What the hell, we're not here for shoppin' ya gonna help me free Dolly or not?" Not that there was much that could be done if he was stuck with the woman. If he stuck with the woman long enough and didn't see Dolly after the full moon then his soul would be kicked out of the doll.

 

[Black_Out]

The exasperated voice of the peddling salesman called Travis faded, the enthusiasm sinking away as his waiting fingers swept the coins back into his possession. Lips twitched as the coins were deposited in his personal pouch upon his belt and a hand moved to shove the bottle of wine along towards the lady. They clenched instead though, and as the obvious sorceress turned her back towards him they silently drew the bottle away. Brows twitched while fingers pinched a single coin as his inquisitive eyes inspected it. Satisfied, Travis was about turned away when he caught sight of the imprisoned doll out of the corner of his eyes. He stared with a slack jaw for a moment, and then swore to himself that the hideous looking doll just looked at him. Leaving the bottle of faux elven merlot on the table he swiftly went to search out his next customer from the far end of his stall.

Dizzy through mead and wine, Disiyir peered out from his silver goblet imprisonment. Blood shot eyes watched in disjointed amusement as the hand of Elisa swept him off the table. The landscape around him swung and blurred with the sudden movement before he found himself deposited in the abundant contents of her shopping bag. The tawny horned fey creature went to try to stand up, but found his wobbling legs failing him. With a splash of his ass, he dropped back onto his haunches.

His gaze settled on one, no two, now three, then back to one misshapen doll enclosed in the glow of runes. "Oh, that looks familiar." His beleaguered slurred tongue belched out. "Now, where the blimey, fuck did I put that.." Hazed over eyes drew his gaze around himself as his body swayed to and fro while shifting about on his hind. "..Oh, there ya are, ya sweet nectar of the gods you are!" He fell over onto his side then as his hands tangled with a clay pitcher that he sank the spout of against his lips. The wine spilled and flowed down his open mouth, splashing out what wasn't swallowed and soaking the roots of his thick ever long beard with the royal purple color of wine.

He barely paid mind to where he was off to now as he let out a loud belch. His hard ebony hooves crossed while he stared upwards at the swirling skies that the yawning opening of the bag afforded view of. Hairy hands slid to his side and retrieved a set of pan pipes which he brought up to his purple stained lips. The pleasant sound of a a little rambling discordant drunken ditty was woven into the air. No one would hear it though, they never did hear anything, until they drank from the goblet. Perhaps the doll could, but he hadn't considered that possibility, hell he didn't even know it was possessed.

 

[xavierrol]

Xavier stood as he watched the constables lead the crazy witch away, he felt as if he had just been in a brawl, not physically but emotionally. His heart pounded in his chest, a burst of adrenaline preparing his body for a physical fight that wasn't going to happen, it was his soul that was in peril. He needed a drink, much of his training involved keeping his emotions in check, a calm dispensation of justice was required to maintain order in the realm. The way he had shaken the poor pitifully mad creature made him feel ashamed, he had nearly lost control. Part of him wanted to strangle her, to silence the words that reached so deep into him, violating him in a way he had never felt before. The other part of him wanted to take her body for his own pleasure, the flesh of a woman outside of marriage was a sin he had hazarded more than he should, but to take a woman by force that was something else entirely. He had never crossed such a line, but for a moment he had been ready to do so, craved it like nothing he had craved before. It was as if all the passion he had bottled up inside of him was desperate to escape.

Once Dolly was no longer in sight, Xavier blinked his eyes as if awaking from some kind of trance. He turned to head back into the town proper, there was a tavern near where he stabled his horse, he would mull things over then head to mad girl's cell. He passed a familiar face, a thief and swindler he had run out of more than one town. Normally he would have stopped and searched his wares, roughed him up a little, make him feel like it might be best to move along. Today though, with everything that was swirling inside of him, he had to make do with a stern glance, just enough to let Shorty know he knew he was there and would be keeping an eye on him.

Walking into the tavern the general merriment of the town was on full display. Oh how he had craved such company just a short hour or so ago, but now he wanted to be alone. He ordered a shot and a chaser at the bar, but took it to a table to sit alone. His adoptive father had always told him his parents were poor but pious peasants, drowned in a tragic flood. He was found miraculously floating in a basket, an almost biblical beginning for a child. Raised to value the discipline of the Order as the salvation of society above the chaos of the beasts both around and within humans. He thought on Mad Dolly's words, had she been right about the fat man and his wives? Was it guilt or witchcraft that killed him? If she was right about the fat man, could she be right about his parents? Would he really throw away a lifetime of dedication for something so mad? He tossed back his shot but mulled over the chaser as he thought. He was tempted to have more but the last thing he needed was to be fogged with alcohol as he questioned Dolly and her demons, as well as his own.

 

[TheCorsair]

Rob tensed as Xavier walked past, expecting the worst. But the big man kept moving, not even looking in his direction. Good. He hadn’t recognized him. Still, it might be best if he made himself scarce. So he sold a few more potions, and a couple of salves and a charm, and then went through the theatre of pretending to pack his wares by touch. Then he sling his pack, and tapped around with his stick.

“Oh, pardon me!” he said, seconds after ‘accidentally’ brushing his hand against the breast of a comely peasant lass. “I didn’t see you there!” She giggled at that. “I was wondering if you might direct me towards the jail.”

“The jail?” She sounded perplexed by that. “Why?”

“Well, I heard they’ve arrested a witch,” he replied. “And I’ve never seen a witch, so I thought I’d have a look.”

“Ah,” she replied, amusement in her expression. “Well, go straight ahead about five hundred yards, then turn left and follow the trail about a quarter mile.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

-*-

He could have made the walk in less than half the time, if he wasn’t playing at being a blind peddler. Not that he minded, really, because it gave him time to think. And most of his thoughts went like this: What in the Thirteen Brazen Hells of Torment am I doing? Because he was getting involved. Teldir had wanted him to get involved, and he’d made the right decision in telling the damn moon cats to piss up a rope, and now he was getting involved anyway.

It is the desire of the Four-Faced Moon, Umbra said, padding slowly along on his left hand.

It is the will of Teldir, Halo added from his right.

“Sod off, the both of you,” he muttered, ignoring the strange looks passers-by gave him. Blind Tom wouldn’t have seen them anyway. “I’m just going to look.”

She has been touched by the Moon, and has claim on Teldir for aid, Umbra insisted.

She has claim on your aid, for you are the Champion, Halo continued.

“Yeah? Well, that and three pence gets me a small ale and missing balls, so don’t count on anything,” he grumbled. “Why wasn’t one of the damn Moonies the Champion?” He glared at Umbra through his gauze. “Because I’m not.”

As usual, neither cat responded. Both just melted away, leaving him an unobstructed view of the jail. A minute of conversation with a constable and a gift of a cream for warts, gained him access to the cells. After all, a blind, curious peddler couldn’t be any real concern, right? So he made his way back.

“Well,” he said after a long look. “You’re not what I expected.”

He’d met enough witches in his time to know that they weren’t all withered hags and they weren’t all frauds. This one certainly wasn’t. Up close, she practically crackled with a raw animal sexuality that made it hard to breathe. Frankly, he was surprised one of the constables wasn’t raping her right now - it was the sort of thing that they tended to see as a perk of the job. Maybe they were waiting until nightfall, to preserve the illusion of the law? Or maybe they could feel the dark power on her? He was barely trained, and he could feel it like heat lightning in his skin.

Hunkering down and leaning on his stick, he looked her in the eyes. “So. Would you like to get out?” he heard himself ask.

 

[Lady Bloody Ava]

Dolly remained in her split and rocked back and forth with her hands bound behind her and humming an unknown toon. It seemed as though the guards were avoiding her. How sad. No company. Well, she still had her voices. 'You've done it now Dolly." "She freaked out my son!' Cackling rang through the seemingly endless abyss of her mind as the voices spoke on. 'If she dies, it's back to the bowels of hell for us' 'Awww!' 'Maybe she'll be raped again' 'Dumbass... you can't rape the willing, and this freak is always willing.' This made the gagged woman laugh, for it was true.

Footsteps sounded against the floor signaling a guest! Oh yes! FInally! The person who stood on the other side of the bars was not what she expected. Then again she wasn't entirely sure of what she had been expecting in the first place. His hair was as dark as her soul and she found it nice. From the split, she sat cross-legged upon the cold stone floor and managed a smile with her gag in place with a tilt of her head as though she were observing him. 'This one is not what he appears to be' 'I know.'

Left and right, her head did wag at his question until it stopped to merely shrug her shoulders. The woman was silently jovial with a somber background. Forward, the bound woman with dark and mysterious aura about her did lean and nod her head casually. Friends and company were all she desired. Physical ones. The ones inside of her head were nice, but they couldn't get drunk with her, joke with her, or make regrettable decisions with her. The more the merrier in fact. Too bad she didn't see Xavier. She had tons to tell the man who escaped death twice before he could even crawl.

New friends, were the best. Oh, how Dolly enjoyed peeling back the layers, like an onion, to find what made them tick. What made them squirm. Reactions were embedded into her memory. Memories that would never go away for as long as the cursed woman lived.

 

[Pots]

Interrupted again? “Oh, oh! So, you do speak!” she quipped loudly as the jittery tone of a tiny voice resonated from her stuffed bag. “Sir, if you will excuse me, I have important matters to tend to! We shall meet again, I assure you,” she dictated as she waltzed away with hasty steps.

Fishing forth the cage, she watched, unblinking, as the thing spoke aloud. She glanced sideward towards the deadly still, chubby-cheeked man and scoffed, “Hmm… Don’t bore me with mundane sensibilities. What happened between a clunky culprit and his deceased wives is of little value to me now that the deed is done. Tragic, of course, but irrelevant. I need to talk to your master, it’s an urgent matter. Am I to assume that the city guards locked her behind bars?” In any case, that’s the only clue she had to go on. Didn’t seem like the sock puppet had much useful information on the topic.

“New guests?” she pondered under furrowed brows, languish eyes flickering with a concentrated effort. “What; she’s like a lightning rod for vengeful and distressed spirits?” As unlikely as it was, the interaction with the gibbering man, some moons past, had taught her to subvert her own expectations. She paused briefly in her tracks to consider. “What immoral and depraved magic spawned you? What’s your origin, and what sort of occult practices does your master hone to give off such a uniquely unpleasant aura? I’ve had a few first-hand experiences with spirits and soul infusions, but none with this uncomfortable vibe.”

It took a second or two for the new information to sink it, even though it was right there, eyes shimmering, larger than life. The soft lines of her face folded into a warm smile, rosy lips spread wide, pearly whites on display. She eyed the blabbering little effigy with pointed intensity as they drifted down the moss-cobbled road, one hand clambering at the goblet in an attempt to stow it away into her bag, while the other provided the enclosure with a solid pedestal, held out analytically in front of her alluring face. The untold diabolism that lingered within the acute form fascinated her utterly. She could feel her horizon expand, her current knowledge but an insignificant droplet of water in a brimming ocean, the learned mind willing.

Awe-struck faces occasionally popped up as they passed unwitting townsfolk on their hop and skip towards the local prison; a title much too formal for a decrepit dungeon. The streets wind through the town like carelessly discarded belts, grey and cracked with age, yet, somehow, the town remained a lonesome beacon of hope in a time of degeneracy, its denizens reasonably happy despite the hardships they too had endured. Here, you could enjoy the wide avenues, the bustling markets, the leafy green trees and the relative safety of security guard patrols.

Elisa slipped past the guard of the outer perimeter with the elegant ease of a dancer, a simple exchange of curtsey allowing her uninterrupted entrance, creature out of sight. She had contributed to numerous arrests over the years, some executed, some still rotting behind the very bars she was peering through, as the inmate’s hostile eyes tore at her. She painted them unimportant.

The prison cell was small, tightly constructed. The walls were the same thick grey stone as the dwellings of the region, sturdy. In the summer the fresh air was a relief, helping to alleviate the stench of festering sewage, but in the cold seasons, it let in a wicked, freezing draft with plummeting temperatures to bear. It was no brighter inside than the gathering gloom of dusk, even at midday. The beds were planks of wood on legs, no mattress, no cushioning and no blankets. It was usually a one-way ticket. If disease didn’t get you, the elements and foul vapours would.

She stopped abruptly beside a man unbeknownst to her. He too was here to visit the gawking woman? Either way, she paid him little attention, as she knelt down in front of the inhabited cell. With a singular glance towards the unsightly scene, the cage tumbled out from her cloak and swiftly deteriorated, chipping away in hefty chunks. “Go. Reunite with your – whatever she is,” she half commanded, punctuated by a dismissive hand gesture.

 

[Lady Bloody Ava]

Dolly's mesmerizing and calculating eyes looked at the newcomer. Yes! A new friend! The icy chill of the cell commingling with the excitement brimming with and caused goosebumps to dance along every inch of her pale colored skin. The red hair was just as stunning as the woman herself. The doll barely caught his master's attention over the female that had just released it. She looks good enough to eat. A demon uttered in her head while gazing at the woman through their host's eyes.

The ragdoll walked through the cold hard bars with ease, upon the scantily clad leg of its ower, up the shoulder, and upon her crimson curly hair topped head. It appeared as though the thing was laying upon its stomach and fiddling with the fastening of the gag until it succeeded. The brown-eyed beastly beauty spat out the gag then sight. "I've tasted dicks better than that and you..." Dolly looked to the stuff possessed toy that jumped from her head and stood before her. Plush arms waved in the air without a sound to be heard.

"A likely story. So you hitch a ride with a beauty like that... that's your excuse?"..... "I can't say that she has a nice ass if I haven't seen it Dolly, now don't be rude to our guests." Those very same eyes that felt as though they could see to the very depths of one's soul looked at the two beings across from her on the other side of the cell. First, the woman. "Thank you for bringing my dolly back. My hands are a little.... tied, so I can't make another. I have so many souls, so many voices, but only two hands. Sucks."

Now for the man. "Hello, Champion." Then she suddenly laughed and looked off to the side at the wall. "What a silly name. What would I call him that?" With a shrug of her shoulders, she looked at her guests once more.

"May I help you?" The damned fool would ask such a question when she was clearly the one that needed aid. Again the mad woman laughed.

"Oh, and the voices ask if you could help me. They seem to think that I need help." A silly smile sat upon her lips with her head tilted in an innocent little look. "I don't bite... unless you ask me to." She jested with a little laugh.

 

[Pots]

Staggered, but not entirely surprised at the vulgarity she woman spat, Elisa eyed her body, the grotesque, yet undisputedly effective appearance, an unconscionable alienage to her. At first glance, face resolutely unimpressed, she observed the reunion. She herself had no idea what she had reasonably expected from the exchange, but the result was wearily anticlimactic.

Her heartbeat was steady like a drummer, keeping rhythm, keeping beat. It was no fancier than the ticking of a clock or the inevitable falling of an acorn from its perch upon a mighty oak. The puppeteer did however, somehow through a superficial comment manage to put a dent into its pattern; the merest hint of a coy smile playing about her lip and the faint imprint of a blooming red upon her cheeks. She had issues deciding whether she should be flattered or offended, but the lady’s unconventional personage made it all the more difficult.

Curiosity, interest, and obsession - mile markers on Elisa’s road to damnation. She met the oncoming stare with equally mesmerising pools, deep ocean blue, sedated by their surroundings, flecks of silvery light performing ballets throughout. A sharp contrast shone through the looking-glass and a tingle trickled through her, like electrical sparks on the way to the ground, gathering in her toes.

She countered the thankful appreciation in an elaborate fashion, hand flourishing outwards in a dignified courtesy and her head lowering in a supplementary manner - more than a nod, though less than a bow. “Your companion, he seemed distressed. I would have hated to leave him wandering aimlessly. Had to take some precautions though, I hope you understand.”

“Now, the thing is,” she continued, “I need you to answer some questions to the best of your ability. If you cooperate I will help you relieve the bonds that hold you. That way we help each other. Surely, those should be agreeable terms.” Manicured hands reached out, slender fingers swirling the bars in a gentle hold, face skewered still with a fading blush.

 

[TheCorsair]

Why the hell was he doing this? Getting involved? Because Teldir was demanding it? Because the witch - the maybe witch - was hot? Or because he was plain stupid?

Stupid, he decided as he glanced around and then examined the lock on the cell. “Right. This won’t be too hard,” he decided, sneering at the mechanism. “We’ll need to move quickly, though.” Nimble fingers withdrew a leather-wrapped packet from his pouch, one that opened to reveal a number of curiously-designed small bars and levers. “One I open this, I mean.”

And then a woman entered, causing him to quickly tuck the packet away. Great. Witnesses. Compounding jailbreak with murder would be messy and dangerous, and inelegant as well. But even as he weighed his options and let his hand drift towards the stiletto in his boot, the redhead let a doll drop to the ground.

Then the hairs in his neck stood on end as the rag doll climbed to its feet and scurried into the cell. All right, he decided as the rag hominculus ungagged the prisoner. A real witch, “So,” he murmured to the redhead, trying to ignore the uncanny piping voice of the doll and the witch’s unsettling remarks about souls. “Friend of yours?”

Suddenly, the witch was talking to him. “Hello, Champion. What a silly name. What would I call him that?"

“Name’s Tom,” he replied, maintaining the facade of being a blind peddler and trying to ignore the idea that she knew the title Teldir had foisted on him. “Dunno what you mean by ‘Champion’.”

She looked around the cell, and then her fevered, eagle-sharp gaze was back on him. "May I help you?" she asked, before laughing wildly. "Oh, and the voices ask if you could help me. They seem to think that I need help. I don't bite... unless you ask me to.”

“We can figure the biting part out later,” Rob decided, then shifted back from the door as the redhead reached through the bars and made a request for help. “For now, come to an agreement with milady here,” he offered a small salute with one finger as he rose, “and I’ll open the door.” Or put four inches of steel in her brain, as needed, he decided, eying the gentle curve of the redhead’s neck. Be a shame to kill her, mind. But you never knew.

 

[Lady Bloody Ava]

The otherworldly woman eyed her guests and listened to the sexy woman speaking. Once or twice she nodded her head and when the male questioned her words and caused the bound woman to giggle. "Don't look at me Tom, that's what they call you." 'They' being the voices of various people locked within her endless abyss of a mind. "Oh, Tom such a tease." That cat at the canary grin spread from ear to ear at his words before those eyes looked over to the lovely lady that requested to have the questions answered.

"Well, I don't have much else to do at the moment, so why not?" The ragdoll sat upon his master's shoulder what the voices whispered in her mind. One whispered over the man and many verbally raped the gorgeous woman offering to free their host from the cell. Xavier's parent's lingered in her mind opting that she stay so that they could speak to their son through her. "Don't worry, I'll find him or he will find me, besides, it's not like you have anywhere to be so calm down." With a sigh, Dolly shook her head and looked up from the floor to woman after visibly rolling those haunting eyes of her. "Sorry, they can be so rude. Continue with your questions."

 

[Pots]

Elisa disregarded the onlooking man with a simple, “I’m afraid not… but you never know these days. Unforeseen things occur left and right.” Briefly, her head shifted to gaze upon the blindfolded figure. Smiling would do no good here.

She had read countless volumes on magical arts from a wide spectrum of sources, and she even had her own theories on the nature of death and the perplexity of the ever-expanding cosmos, but there was no clear-cut answer to be found. She had noted the walls between the sane world and that unplumbed dimension of delirium to be tenuously thin certain places, and it had spawned an insistent gnawing in the back of her mind, yearning, a thirst for discovery that could be neither numbed, nor sated.

Elisa wore a puzzled expression, taken aback slightly by the odd circumstances she found herself in, then, she began in earnest.

“I met a man, some months ago...”

“From the shadows he had appeared, a hunched over figure, clouded beneath a cloak as black as the night. From the inky folds a withered hand extended, crooked and claw-like in nature. The ghoulish man was fighting a stubborn rear-guard action against baldness, an indeterminate mousy grey-brown scalp wobbling with jarring action. With his gaunt visage on display in the gloomy sunset, erratic and disastrous, hollow cheeks and sunken eyes… fleshless lips, he claimed that the end of an era was imminent. He roused the townsfolk with his wild speculations and prophecies and it was then that the guards decided to enthusiastically deliver their weapons into the deranged outsider’s back.”

A tingle washed over her, bone-deep, and as irresistible as a strong current, a chill ravaging her spine.

“Sensibly, I chose to leave at that instance, however, allegations would have you believe, that the filth returned weeks later, still boasting his detailed knowledge of otherworldly corruptions taking form beneath the surrounding acres. Sometime later, on his fourth visit, the townsfolk had watched triumphantly, as he tore his eyes from their sockets, and ran shrieking into the rumour-shadowed forest from whence he came - wailing maniacally that the end was upon us all…”

“The once proud village is barren and abandoned now, as if swept away by time itself, despite its recent upbringing. Supposedly, houses stand like hollow cages, mossy stone and battered wood the only remnants of former life. And though the prospect frightens me terribly, I can’t remain idle during a crisis of this magnitude. I must inspect the ruins, but entering all by my lonesome without the sufferable knowledge seems like a gamble that I’m unwilling to take.”

On occasions, after the incident, horrid daydreams crept through her resolve and left her in an inescapable maze, a prison without walls, cascading out of control, luring her further and further from the self she once knew. When she merged with existence again, slumped shoulders, wild eyes, stumbling gait, she always found herself sweating profusely, the process somewhat gruesomely poetic, like a brief insight into an unknown world. She widely ridiculed the hallucinations as simple lapses of concentration, but the pictures they painted were beyond comprehension.

“Now, my questions go.” He slender frame nestled against the barrier between them, fingertips tracing the rust of the steely bars. “Do have any information, whatsoever, that could prove me useful? You seem well-versed in your own little occult fever dream, you must know something. What was the man blabbering about and what happened to the town afterwards? I can offer you a wide array of services if you’re willing to assist me… if you can. Otherwise, I shall leave you two to your trifling.”

 

[Lady Bloody Ava]

Dolly smiled, sat, and listened. The gorgeous woman before her looked as though she could take a lot, but to watch that chill ghost through her, she similar chills to dance across Dolly's exposed flesh for entirely different reasons: excitement. Despite the voices throwing in their two cents as the story was being told, Dolly hung on every word spoken. Visibly the prisoner feigned an appalled look.

""Occult fever dream"? Dear lady, I am my own unique being, though I hear that there are other's like me." A wicked smile suddenly emerged along with a wicked little laugh as she rocked in place with her bindings. "You've every right to be cautious. Your enemy may even be hard to see with the naked eye." With a serious tone of voice, she continued on. "I can not offer you answers, but I can offer you aide. We can offer you aide and believe me.... you will need it. Were there even bodies found?" A shiver of excitement visibly ghosted through her being as mad Dolly spoke.

"Your man is like me. Take me there and I'll hear what he hears. Whatever we are, most can't stand it. It drives them mad to the brink of death. But not I! It's a blessing and a curse. Though we are all still different, I can take a beating, but not like him." Her tone of voice saddened near the end. It reminded her of her mother who was frightened of her, but oh how her mother would be so happy to see her making friends! "Free me and I can at least talk to the souls that are dead.... if they are even dead to begin with." It was an interesting thought. There were beings that could swallow a soul without being seen, but a whole village? This was fun and she would have company.

"I wish that I could see the man though. An hour with me and he will spill a lot." The smile creeping upon her face spoke of some very mischevious thoughts as she waited to see if her words earned her freedom. "Tom? Did you have a reason for stopping by or did you just come here to see me? Given your blindness, you might want to keep really close to me when I'm freed. The more the merrier, right?"

 

[TheCorsair]

Despite himself, Rob shivered as the redhead described her encounter. Shivered, and then shuddered as memory returned unbidden. “I’ve... seen that man,” he murmured, likin the admission even less as the mad woman in the cell began explaining.

His words seemed to attract her attention. “Tom? Did you have a reason for stopping by or did you just come here to see me? Given your blindness, you might want to keep really close to me when I'm freed. The more the merrier, right?"

No, he didn’t fucking want to stick close. He didn’t want to be involved at all. “No specific reason,” he lied, trying to ignore Umbra and Halo watching impassively in the hallway. “Just never seen a witch up close before, is all.” Also a lie, given the number he’d spoken with over the past few years. “But, yeah. That man. I saw him, or someone who looked a lot like him, in a town I passed through a few months back. Crazy bastard, and creepy as hell. I don’t know that he deserved to be burnt at the stake, though.” A snort. “Mayor disagreed, though.”

He shivered again as he remembered the obscene prophecies the man had shrieked as the flames clawed at his flesh. “So,” he said, looking at the redhead as he tried to change the subject. “You want me to let her out now, or what?”

 

[Pots]

During the pale lady’s response, Elisa had found momentary comfort in a beloved book, fine fingertips leading the erratic movements of the pen across the wrinkled papers. Notes, notes, notes. She even found time to draw another rough sketch of the intriguing woman, the distinct features apparent and though it lacked the finer details, the art remained true to its purpose.

Eyes peaked the edge of the leather-binding that encased her book, analytic pupils attempting to read the lady’s expressions and unusual thought process. “I’m afraid that I don’t know the nitty-gritty details, but that’s all the more reason to investigate for me.” She nodded her head in contempt, “However, you have agreed to aid me, and for that, I am forever grateful. Now, give me a moment.”

She turned on the spot to direct her attention to the figure beside her. “This is not a journey fit for a blind and feeble peddler, Sir. I apologise for my brash use of words, but you would get yourself killed. Terror can find cracks in the sturdiest of armour, the most resolute of minds and judging by your current state, you possess neither.” Her body folded in an apologetic bow, “I greatly appreciate your input, but I can take it from here. I can’t allow you to venture anywhere as things stand, Sir.”

That being said, her fingers snapped around the book and it closed with a dry wheeze. She took a step back, dexterous frame lean and wiry, every deliberate sinew in her tensed, on high alert.

Visible thoughts on her breathless face erupted in an inverse explosion, crazy, chaotic, turning and twisting all the light coming together, forming just one thing, one purpose. They spun in a design-less and logic-devoid fashion, yet the end result was exactly as desired. Eyes flared to life with a potent concoction of determination and finesse, a blinding teal light emanating from the sockets, as well as the jewel that rested gently on her supple forehead.

With the simple twitch of a suspended muscle, she braced and paused to briefly gesticulate towards the barred door, a smooth signaling of the hand casting a bright seal of light. It burst into sporadic gusts of wind that cascaded through the narrow corridors and sprawling grid of the prison facility. The shower of crystalline glass that followed the ear-rending sound flickered off in wild tornados of glimmer. The door flung open, its hinges creaking absurdly under the applied pressure, the lock thoroughly battered.

She waltzed over the threshold then and kneeled beside the bound hostage, fingers undoing the restrictive binds. Elisa was warm, fragranced, soft, but also wary, daunted and lightly frightened. “You can stand by yourself, right?” She took a definite step into the woman’s low-cast vision as she loomed before her, sack-like wrapping encapsulating her frame, a helpful hand extended as a sign of gratitude.