Completed Cozy Little Cottage

[Norris]

Art by Jack Eaves​

Alongside the edge of the Falwood is a plain and unassuming dirt road. It heads east to west until eventually curving northward towards Vel Anir on one end and southward towards Fal'Addas on the other. Sometimes the path was taken by adventurous merchants or a squadron of Anirian Rangers trying to make quick time. But most often the inhabitants of this pathway were the Forsaken and their Handlers. Being untraveled and out of the way had certain perks and, if you knew where to look, there was a clearing only around three hundred paces from the trailway.

Within that clearing sat a quaint little cabin. It housed a fireplace, a comfy foyer, several cots, and a basement with several interesting amenities. This was a safehouse used when a job around Fal'Addas or the rest of the region went south and agents needed to keep off the roads for a few days. Rangers often patrolled the surrounding area to ensure elves or other curious onlookers stayed away. Handlers would sometimes hold training sessions here with prospects. And then there were people like Norris. Norris just simply loved to get away from people. From the bureaucracy of it all.

He sat on a rugged little oak chair with a cigarette dangling from his mouth. The novel he was reading was about some poor boy lost at sea. There wasn't much else to do as his only other companion here was Silas who was competent and around the same rank as Norris. But Silas didn't really speak much. Didn't need to. The man was a hulk, a full foot taller than Norris and with legs the size of tree trunks. He didn't need magic to tear a being apart though his magic was equally as terrifying as his physical form.

The handler pulled his cigarette away and exhaled before picking up a bottle of the cognac he had kept in the cellar. He poured himself a hefty amount into two glasses before offering one to his ally, "Silas?" With a grunt and a shake of his head the larger handler declined his drinking invitation. "Suit yourself, leaves more for me." His face formed the sinister smile many of his students had come to fear as he downed one of the glasses rapidly. The smooth and warm taste of the cognac was a nice change of pace compared to the more smokey flavors he experienced from his whiskeys of choice.

Soon Genevieve would arrive with the girl in tow. He expected a progress report. He had already read over Snake-Eye's notes but he wanted to hear it from the child's own mouth. Plus it was good to get the girl away from ol' Snake-Eyes. Norris could tell that the Forsaken had taken a liking to her and well, any display of kindness tended to breed... weakness.

"Won't be long now," he reassured Silas who remained silent.

 

[Rumer]

Genevieve's healing touch had been a welcome one on her return from her travels with Nathaira. She'd been allowed to sleep for long enough, and was fed enough to nourish her. She'd been left in her room for longer than usual. She'd expected to have been woken before dawn to start her training with Kasimir, a small part of her had actually been looking forward to the prospect. Instead, Genevieve had handed her her cloak and given a weak smile at the girl's confusion.

Genevieve hadn't explained much, she'd evaded Rumer's questions and had been mostly silent on their journey. She didn't feel particularly afraid in the woman's company, she hadn't yet given her reason to. Still, her apprehension was clear and she fidgeted and chewed on her lower lip until the skin was ragged and torn, looking up at the woman every now in then in silent question, hoping she'd offer some answer.

The sun was setting by the time they were on the path to the cabin, and Rumer's brows furrowed as she noticed the flickering candlelight in the windows. She paused, and Genevieve reached wordlessly to take hold of her hand and encouraged her on, her knuckles rapping against the splintery door and opening it before pulling her inside.

Rumer's colour drained almost immediately from her rosy cheeks as her gaze settled, wide and fearful upon Norris, the smell of tobacco wrapping around her throat and threatening to choke her. She glanced to the other man, he should have been more of a frightening sight to anyone but her eyes returned to the one she considered far more of a threat. Her adrenaline surged so fast she thought she might vomit as saliva thickened in her throat, and a spasm of panic shuddering at her spine..

She kept her lips tight shut, and her eyes fell to the floor as Genevieve let go of her hand. She missed Nathaira.

 

[Norris]

Sunlight shone into the cabin briefly as Genevieve and the girl entered. The light of the sun was extinguished as soon as the door was shut leaving the dim light of a few candles as the only source of illumination. Norris smiled, retrieved the half-gone cigarette from his lips and snuffed it out in the ash tray to his left, along with the pile of other half-smoked cigarettes. He grabbed the second glass of cognac and offered it to Genevieve whom he knew would refuse it.

He let the silence linger as he held the drink in his hand. Then, after a second or two of staring at the girl he said, "what's the matter? You're not going to say hello?" He stood and gestured for Genevieve to take a seat in the corner which she promptly did. He walked to the side of the table that he had been sitting at and then leaned himself against it. Propped up against the rough wood he held the glass of liquor lower. "How about you Dollface? Want a drink?"

With the glass halfway between himself and the girl he twirled it thrice allowing the golden brown alcohol to spin and twist.

Sending Genevieve to escort the child was a stroke of genius. The junior handler was exceptionally nice for a former dreadlord. Eventually the hope she saw for these freaks would get destroyed as she witnessed so many of them break and die before her but for now her generosity was a useful tool. The girl probably thought she was going somewhere for a bit of reprieve or maybe that they'd find some brief hint of joy. Had Norris not explicitly forbidden Genevieve from warning her the senior handler was confident she would've alerted the half-elf to the true intention of their journey.

And now he wanted to savor it. The look at her face, the obvious fear, the quivering chin. "Sorry for the cigarette smoke, I know it causes your eyes to water. But we had a deal, I put it out so now I expect to not see any tears. You'll only be here for a day or so. Your first proper evaluation." He needed to know if she enjoyed taking a life. Snake-Eye's report was thorough as ever but he wanted to hear Dollface say it. That she snuffed out a life and she liked it. "Tell me about your last task. How do you think it went?"

His mustache curled upwards as his face beamed in glee.

 

[Rumer]

She fidgeted as he stared at her, her fingertips pressing into her clammy palms as she looked back at him like a doe about to be shot.. "Mh.. Hello." she answered, her voice a nervous croak. She swallowed back the feeling of nausea and cleared her throat, staring at the drink and shaking her head at his offer of it. She doubted that even if she ever had the chance to drink such a drink, whether she could stomach it. As like the smoke, the smell reminded her of his breath.

A day or so.. She had to not cry for a day or so and she very much doubted he was going to make that an easy task for her. She shook her head anyway in response, she would try her best to keep her emotions back as she knew now that she should, but fear was far easier to mask than pain and she hoped there would be none.. Hope too, was something she had to learn to lock away.

His question caused her stomach to churn as the thoughts of the task he spoke of came crashing back to the forefront of her mind. She laced her fingers behind her back to hide the shaking. "I think it.. it went well, sir....Thank you, sir." she nodded lightly and pressed her lips tightly, too afraid to spill out any of her true thoughts on the matter.

Rumer glanced nervously to Silas, but her gaze never left Norris for long. He seemed much too happy, and that was never a good thing.

 

[Norris]

The child was still timid. That was probably a good thing. She seemed headstrong when he had first met her, strong willed. Time with Snake-Eyes and those other abominations of nature had steeled her to this new reality. Still, was there a part of her that continued to hold a quiet defiance for Norris? For the Forsaken? For Vel Anir?

"That's wonderful my girl!" he congratulated her while stepping a bit closer and patting her atop her head. He brought the cognac the girl had refused up towards his lips and took a sip before commenting, "I was worried about you, truth be told. Not sure if Snake-Eyes could've handled you. See, blood is important. All Anirians have a sense of duty, of right and wrong. You've got a bit of that blood in you so that's why there was a faint glimmer of hope." He took another hearty sip of his cognac, limited the liquor down to a small amount as he turned from the girl and reached back across the table for the bottle.

He uncorked it, began pouring more liquor in and commented, "see, half-elves are tricky. I don't much care for 'em. Your elven kind is just so full of degeneracy. Think that cause they live a long time our lives ain't worth as much as theirs. That's probably why your mom abandoned you." His body turned as the glass returned up towards him though he paused it just in front of his lips. "I'll be honest with you, I was so upset when we brought you in, that someone could do that to their own kin, I had my boys hunt her down." Now he allowed more of the golden alcohol to traverse down his throat. Let that lie sink in. "I had her strung up. Said it was cause she gave up her own daughter. You know what she said to me Dollface?"

Norris placed his drink on the table and leaned forwards, aligning himself level with the small halfling. He looked directly into her vivid emerald eyes with his eyes of dulling tan before abruptly saying, "what daughter?" He didn't smile this time, he knew the girl wouldn't buy it but there was a time and a place for sadistic joy and this wasn't it. His face stern he added, "I was so flabbergasted I had them kill the bitch right there, no more torture. Didn't even remember you. I'll just say it Dollface, I think you're the luckiest girl alive. Now you've got a family. An older sister who's part snake, aunt Genevieve over there, and me. A loving, caring, father figure. Something your flesh-and-blood parents could never give you. Because they just didn't care about you."

 

[Rumer]

Every muscle tensed in defence as the man approached and patted her on the head, and she forced a shaky smile at his apparent praise. The man was twisted, she wasn't here for praise, it wasn't real, there was something far more sinister lying under each smile. She closed her eyes for a moment as he returned to pour himself more liquor and used the moment of brief reprieve to try and still her racing thoughts and step into the mind of the Rumer she had to be to survive. She dipped her chin a little, defiance wouldn't get her anywhere, obedience wouldn't either but it would hopefully see things a little smoother.

She listened to his lies in silence, her jaw clenching tightly as he attempted to further sully the perfect image she held of her mother. He was making it more and more difficult for her to hold on to that image, and she hated him for it. A dull ache grew in her chestt as his story developed, and soon she envisaged the beautiful elven woman in her mind hanging from a noose. It wasn't real and yet she had to swallow the lump in her throat, her brow creasing into a pained frown as she stared at the floor. She lifted her gaze to him as he asked her a question and her head shook lightly.. What daughter. She stared at him a moment longer and let her chin dip a little lower once more.

"A horrible woman, sir. Degenerate.. Thank you sir." she answered quietly and pressed her lips together as he went on about the fabricated murder of her fabricated mother and her lip quivered with anger.

"Yes, I am very lucky." she lied, her fists clenching hard.."I would be dead like my bitch of a mother if it weren't for my new family." she nodded, her palms puncturing under her nails..

 

[Norris]

Good. She was saying all the correct things, perhaps she was finally learning. Norris knew that every Forsaken both hated and feared him. He knew they lied, that they fed him honeyed words they thought he wished to hear. None of that bothered him so long as one of those emotions outweighed the other.

A dog that hates you bites back just to spite you. A dog that fears you only bites back if you back it into a corner. He could deal with a mongrel that feared him above all else. He had no patience for a mutt that hated him. Too unpredictable. He still wasn't sure which emotion ruled over Dollface.

"You would be dead. It's a good thing we found you. I think you show a lot of promise my dear." Norris turned and looked behind him at the hulking handler seated to his flank and asked, "Silas? What do you think of our new little pupil?"

Silas grunted and said, "Nathaira's report mentioned she could flay someone by looking at 'em."

Norris let a low toned hum escape through his teeth as he twirled his head back towards the child. "That's right Dollface! You were hiding that little trick the first time we met huh? I think I'd like to see that little ability." A wicked grin was flashed at the half-elf as Norris snapped and pointed towards his left. Silas nodded and rose to his feet before leaving the room. "Got a little gift for you little one. I think you'll like it." He plucked his glass up from the table and took a brief sip before placing it back down on the splintered table.

Within a few seconds Silas returned carrying a large sack over his shoulder. He opened it and shook out its contents causing a scrawny elf to plop on the floor a few paces from the Forsaken-in-training. The elf was malnourished, extremely thin, her hair was darker than Dollface's, and she was terrified. Despite her mouth being gagged, a blindfold over half her face, and her wrists and ankles bound it was obvious she was scared. Limbs shaked, chin quivered, and the elf remained on the ground in a heap. Her only motion the chattering of her bones.

"Show us your little trick my girl," the handler said while holding two open palms up in the air as if to say he was about to be honest for once. "Do this without hesitation, without question, and I swear you won't get beaten once today. We'll cook up a venison stew in an hour or so, have a nice hearty meal and a good night's rest. I'll even let Genevieve take you out fishing in the morning. Maybe she'll teach you to play the flute." He lowered both arms and stared hard at the child, the honesty leaving, a chilling seriousness replacing it. "But, first," his arms crossed and lip curled, "you've gotta flay this one."

 

[Rumer]

Rumer remained rigid and regimented, nodding gently at his words and keeping her gaze submissively downcast as he spoke. Silas' words caused her lips to tighten into a thin line, in actual fact she hadn't realised before that she could flay the skin from another, she hadn't practised it, it had simply happened and she hoped this conversation wasn't going where it was going. But it was, she knew they'd want proof. She wanted to tell Norris that she hadn't been hiding anything, but there was little point, it would be considered argument and she knew better.

Her eyes raised to look at Norris as he spoke of a gift. Her heart raced. Gods she hated him. She felt a rush of dread drench her as Silas returned to dump the moving sack onto the floor, and blood trickled and dripped from her knuckles.

No... Rumer's eyes filled with tears she refused to let fall as she stared down at the elf, unable to tear her pitiful gaze away from her, what they'd done to her. A wave of inevitability hit her like a hard punch to the gut as she listened to the man speak.You are going to die. She thought, as though trying to speak to the elf without words. Whether she killed her or one of the others did, the elf's life was at an end, which was probably a mercy.

In her mind she revisited the elf in the sea, how quickly she'd ended his life when she focused her mind on it. The orcs on the road home, she hadn't really had to think much about that, it had been more thank just killing it had been pure and utter hate that made their deaths so painful. They wanted this to be slow.. Norris' promises met her ears though she didn't look at him, she continued to stare down at the quivering elf before her, particular attention paid to her ears.. Those degenerate ears.

Rumer's jaw clenched. Norris was lying, he always lied. She wasn't going to leave this cabin unharmed regardless of what she did.. And nor was he. She didn't have a rune yet, she was more dangerous to him than Nathaira or Aila or Kasimir were, she couldn't be controlled. Not really controlled. He could only use her fear to control her and though it was particularly strong, her hatred of the man was stronger. She focused on that anger and kept her gaze on the elf, but her main focus was him. All manner of sense left her, every ounce of hatred and rage she felt for the man took over.

Him..Just him. She closed her eyes and held a hand out as though focusing her strength on the scrawny elf before her, but it was focused entirely on him, and she frowned deeply in concentration. She wanted his blood to heat, scald and boil inside him, she wanted to see the blood run from his eyes, nose and ears like that Orc, she wanted to see it burst from his neck and his skin to fall from his flesh. She wanted all of it, and she wanted him dead.

 

[Norris]

Perfect.

There was no questioning, no flinching, after a brief moment to collect her thoughts the half-elf seemed to be readying herself to perform her duty. Precisely as ordered. Snake-Eyes had done a tremendous job to turn the scared girl filled with anger into this obedient little thing before him. He'd have to do something nice for the snakelike Forsaken after they returned from the cabin. Maybe give her an afternoon off and some roasted quail before sending her off to massacre that fishing village in the south.

Hesitation was at its highest point when her hand was outstretched towards the captive elven girl. Their prisoner hadn't personally committed any crimes, it was her parents that were part of an anti-Anirian terrorist group. But he looked forward to seeing this prodigy of magic before him mangle the captive's flesh. Looked forward to the look of horror on the parents faces when he delivered the mutilated corpse of their only child.

But... that isn't what happened...

"Son of a-" were the only words that escaped as his limbs tightened and Norris collapsed. His blood started to heat up, feeling like it was a few degrees from boiling. His bones seemed to stretch and bend in ways not meant to. Parts of his skin wrinkled and unwrinkled. It was most concentrated in his left leg, around his knee, where he'd suffered a terrible injury back in his youth at the Dreadlord Academy. "Aaaugh!" he screamed in agony as he finally, instinctively cast his own reflective magic. Hopefully the reversal of her ability would cause the little brat to cease.

Genevieve had bolted up from her seat, dropping her parchment, and rushing towards Norris. Already surrounded by a healing mist. She knew that if her superior was killed by a pupil while she stood feet away it'd likely mean the gallows for her. Perpetual failures weren't tolerated in Vel Anir.

Silas on the other hand, well, he didn't go to Norris' aid. Instead he sauntered over towards the child and attempted to throw a punch directly towards her nose. Likely not enough force behind it to break her nostril but certainly enough to make her see stars.

 

[Rumer]

Rumer's chest rose and fell with quickening breaths and her eyes closed tightly, he was screaming. It was working. She could do this. But for how long?.. Die already.. She had been about to up the ante, filling her lungs with a deep breath to scream out in violent fury, but suddenly her blood started to warm and the wound in her shoulder burst opened and she stopped and gripped at it. She hadn't even had time to react to the pain before she was struck and she hit the floor hard, blood streaming from her nose and pain stinging at her mind. She blinked hard and looked up at the man who'd struck her, her teeth gritting as she intended on aiming a little more of her demonstration at him.

She looked to Norris however, and fear flooded over her - he was being healed. "No!!!!!" she screamed out, and without thinking focused on Genevieve, calling for wounds to burst from her flesh. She didn't want to hurt the woman, but she didn't want her to heal Norris more..Another punch she could take, but Norris recovering would be far worse, she was sure.

 

[Norris]

Norris heard the shout of the smaller half-elf before he saw Genevieve twist violently and begin convulsing. The brat was using her vile spell on the junior handler. And before she had really had much of a chance to apply any of her healing magic on the more senior handler. That wouldn't do. Though he didn't think his injuries were too severe yet he wasn't certain if he possibly had internal bleeding or some other disfigurement from the ungrateful girl's vile spells. He cursed himself for not being prepared and using his reflective magic on himself prior to the demonstration.

Then he cursed himself again for not having the strength to cast something on Genevieve. Hopefully they could put a stop to this before the rabid dog snuffed out the woman's life.

Clumsily, still woozy from his injuries, Norris grabbed at the table until he felt the glass still filled with a bit of cognac. He flung the glass directly at the brat's head with enough force to shatter on impact. Assuming, of course, she didn't step out of the way. "Silas! S-stop her!" he called out as blood sprayed with his words.

The hulk of a man raised his goliath-sized boot and tried to ram it directly into the girl as Genevieve continued to flail around on the floorboards.

 

[Rumer]

Rumer was quickly realising what she was doing, her senses were kicking in and fear was slowly seeping back into the forefront of her mind. No. She had to focus on the hate and the anger, she had to kill them, it was her or them now, like the orcs. Her mind flashed a carousel of thoughts, each one more enraging than the last, spurring on the hatred she held for the man. She replayed his words about her mother and her rage only intensified the power she focused on the poor woman writhing on the floor. Her or me...Her or me.

The child's venomously green gaze remained on the woman, unable to drag her attention away from her, she needed more blood. She let out a fatal scream, just in time to take a glass to the side of her face and she fell back, her focus lost and body trembling. The smell of the liquor was more terrifying than anything, it trickled into her mouth and she spat furiously, trying to push herself back up. Then there was the kick to the head and she fell dizzily back to the deck..No no no...

She was blinking hard trying to get the room to stay still, focus ebbed and flowed and her ears rang, she could still hear Norris spluttering, perhaps, she'd done enough.. She frowned as she remembered the pain she'd been in after the orc had crushed her ribs..that was worse than this.. she could still do more. Her eyes moved to Silas as she lay panting on the floor, blood trickling over her face and she frowned. She seethed, air pulled in and hissed out through gritted teeth and she focused on the man's skin. They wanted a demonstration, and she wanted him stripped of his skin. She screamed.

 

[Norris]

Glass shattered, high quality cognac sprayed from the half-elf's lips, and boot collided with the girl's face. For a few seconds Norris actually thought it may be over. They could contain the girl in the cellar, lick their wounds, and figure out what to do next. If only it were that simple.

No. The child proved to be a fighter. Her attention now was turned towards Silas.

His eyes rolled backwards briefly before he let out a thunderous roar. The bitch was trying to boil his blood from the inside too. Unlike Norris, the larger handler wasn't about to take that without a fight. His massive hands grasped at the child as he attempted to choke the life out of her. His green eyes matched hers and Norris could only assume both eyes were filled with a ravenous hatred. A fury to kill.

Poor Genevieve rolled around during the brief respite, coughed up a dark crimson clump. Blood that color was a sign of internal bleeding. No shock that the woman began to cast her healing mist around herself. She looked much worse off than Norris, best to have her healed up and then she could see to his wounds. As for Silas, well, as he held the child up by the neck his pores were starting to sweat, skin shrivel, blood leaked from the various crevices in his eyes, nose, and mouth.

"Silas!" Norris screamed in exhaustion, "I forbid you from killing her!" He didn't know if the words would fall on deaf ears or not. This turn of events was most unfortunate and a new plan of training would be needed for the mutt. If they decided to even keep her alive. However, Norris didn't want to panic to make the decision. Someone with this kind of power would be useful. Though they'd need to find a new way to break such an unruly dog.

 

[Rumer]

The man's hands were massive. They ripped her easily from the floor and held her up against the wall so that her feet dangled in the air, pressing his thumbs tightly against her airways. Rumer's hands were tiny. They gripped onto the man's wrists as she stared wildly back at him, trying her best not to let her hatred give way to fear. But he was quickly choking the life from her, and her face was turning a vioent shade of red as she tried desperately to draw breath. Keep focus..

Screaming seemed to help draw out her anger and project it, she couldn't do that now, but the prospect of death was an excellent motivator. Fingernails dug into the man's skin and she focused on the tiny wounds they made. They grew, quickly, travelling deeper and racing up his arms, spreading over his entire body and peeling from his flesh like a ripe fruit.

A deep wound to the man’s throat saw Rumer sprayed with roasting hot blood that burned at her face and eyes. He screamed and dropped her, his skin sliding from his face as he staggered backward and landed on his back causing the ground to tremor and the cabin to creak in protest.

Rumer's hands clutched to her throat and she gasped and coughed, spitting blood from her lips, her eyes closed tightly as it stung at them.

The man on the floor rasped a breath...another...and fell silent and still.

 

[Norris]

Well. Silas was dead. That was a pity, he was pretty talented with runes. And such a gifted illusionist too.

On the brighter side of things Genevieve seemed to be recovering as her healing fog washed over her body. Swiftly pouring into her nostrils and opened mouth. That only happened during severe trauma to someone's internal organs. Norris had the pleasure of witnessing it during a few other training sessions so he knew the woman must've only been a few seconds from death. As she regained composure the junior handler stared in horror at the lump of a man that had once been Silas before registering that the child was still very much alive despite the blood she was covered in.

"Dollface, you're done. It's over."

His words were calm. Almost soothing. Though they weren't deceptive, they were simply the truth. Norris had enough mental fortitude now to extend his reflection to Genevieve. There was no point in fighting anymore. The experienced handler had let his guard down and the child took the opportunity to ravage the bodies of three handlers, killing one in the process. "Genevieve, take her to the cellar, chain her up."

The woman approached the child cautiously right as Norris announced, "we're both covered, if the bitch tries it again she'll just end up harming herself." Norris needed a few moments to gather his thoughts, have his apprentice handler remedy his wounds, and debate his next move.

Typically the kid's outburst would mean a slow and painful death. But that might be too good for her. There had to be something worse he could do to her. Something she'd hate far more than dying. It's what she deserved for nearly killing him.

 

[Rumer]

Rumer couldn't see a thing. She rubbed feverishly at the blood that stung at her eyes, wracked with panicked breaths and whimpers. Norris' voice froze her for a brief moment and her head shook, desperately feeling around for things to throw at him, for a door "No no no no no!!" . She blindly found a lantern and growled as it burned at her hands but she threw it in the direction of Norris' voice before slipping in blood and tripping over the elven girl who muffled a cry. She'd forgotten about her...She'd tried to save her. She tried to save all of them from Norris..She'd failed. And she'd never have the chance again.

She fought as hard as she could as arms wrapped around to grip her and carry her away, but her energy was fading fast and all she could do was scream and plead as she was dragged down the stairs.. Rumer hadn't really meant to hurt Genevieve so badly, if she'd managed to kill Norris she wouldn't have hurt the woman at all. But the woman had learned a hard lesson, and any small hope she had of the woman helping her had diminished. She was soft, not stupid.

"Norris you bastard I hate you!!!!!!" She screamed as she was chained to a post in the middle of the dank cellar. There was little point in apologising, she was only sorry that she'd failed.

 

[Norris]

Genevieve ascended the stairs of the basement. The little runt's screams echoed and it brought a grin to Norris' face. Though that grin quickly faded. The child was different from most of the other Forsaken. Her hatred outweighed her fear. He'd have to correct that, and quickly, now that he was resolute in his decision not to kill the girl.

"Mend me," he ordered the junior handler. The command was quickly followed by a look of concern and then a soothing white smoke that coaxed his body into healing itself. The man closed his eyes as the euphoria of recovery began to wash over him.

As the healing continued Genevieve spoke up, "sir... if you don't mind... you pushed too hard. Too fast. She wasn't ready for that level of," though her words stopped when she saw the look of fury on her superior's face.

He didn't say anything further. She had realized her mistake. You never questioned a superior in Vel Anir. Particularly when some elven wench was still tied up in the same room crying like the pathetic worm she was. Genevieve's words held some truth though. Norris had overestimated the girl's intelligence. She was clearly far too stupid to be trusted with that kind of power. The power to rip a being like Silas apart as if he were made of paper. The power to nearly kill two other handlers. And, above all else, power was one thing Norris craved.



Several hours passed as the two handlers let their wounds recover. They ate the venison stew that he had offered to Dollface hours prior. They slept well while the child was left on the bare stone of the cellar. And they even waited a few hours past sunrise before creeping down the steps of the barren dwelling they had chained the brat up in.

"Morning, I hope you slept well," he said sinisterly as he walked about with a cane propping up his limping left leg. "Genevieve fixed me right up after your little outburst last night. Though she thinks I'll keep this limp 'til my dying days. Gotta hand it to you girl," he brought out a cigar and lit it. He took a small inhale before puffing out a small smoke cloud, "you got awfully close. Closer than anyone else."

His body limped forwards, wooden and brass cane thudding hard on the tough stone every other step, until he was right near her. Reflective magic at the ready he exhaled a giant cloud of smoke towards her face and simply said, "you can start crying now."

 

[Rumer]

Discomfort or not, she had slept. She'd had no choice in the matter, and her mind was a severely disturbed place, yet she couldn't call it a nightmare as it never left her presence as she woke. Her head was lolled forward and she frowned at the stiffness in her neck, her eyes trying to blink free the dried blood that stuck them together, but she dared not look up at Norris..

Bloodshot eyes lifted only slightly to look upon the man's feet and cane, and she couldn't help but take a small amount of satisfaction from it. He'd torture her, she was sure, he'd never let her forget it. But he'd never be able to forget how she'd almost killed him either. It hadn't been a total loss after all...One handler gone, another crippled.

As the man limped forward, the child went rigid, but she lifted her bloody face to look at him with a defiant frown. Whether or not she pleaded with him, or angered him more, none of it made any difference now. This was going to hurt either way. She narrowed her eyes and tried to suppress a cough as the plume of smoke broke against her face, but she failed and her lungs protested. The coughs slowly turned to something much more worrisome, and she was laughing, hysterically so, tears falling from her eyes as she did so.

"You... wanted.... a demonstration."

 

[Norris]

A sly chuckle escaped the man's lips as he looked at the decrepit child with sheer hatred. Even now she was speaking to him like she was superior. As if she understood the world better than he did.

"You think you're pretty fucking clever don't you?" it was a rhetorical question that was followed by the swift motion of his arm. The back of his hand sailed across the girl's face, delivering an audible whack and was forceful enough that it turned Norris' hand a medium-rare pink. He twirled on his good leg and took a few paces away from the girl. One or two cigar puffs allowed for a few moments of quiet while the brat felt the sting on her face.

He turned his head so that he could halfway see over his shoulder. His voice was serene as he stated, "do you know why we do this?" He looked up at the ceiling, a thick cloud of smoke emanating from his lungs upwards. "Humans aren't special. We don't live for a thousand year's like your whore of a mother's people. We don't have venom and protective scales like your buddy Snake-Eyes. There aren't any great mines that our people have called home for centuries like the dwarves. No raw ferocity like the orcs. Vel Anir is the only place that realized this. That understood that we humans have nothing." He turned fully now and stared at the half-human before him.

"We'd be eradicated if we didn't do anything. That's what Vel Anir saw for our future. So they created a bastion. A place where humans could be safe from the likes of tieflings and elves and other vermin." Another puff of his cigar, more sorrow in his eyes, "it worked for awhile. Mighty city, standing army, but eventually the elves came from the south. The orcs from the west. Kivren from the seas. We knew we had to do something different. We had to find something special about us humans."

Thuds interrupted his speech as he slammed his cane down and re-approached the child. "We realized then that there was something unique about us. Something special. We were the only species more afraid of ourselves than of anyone else. And that was when we Anirians decided to use that fear. If we can make all of these other pathetic creatures on Arethil fear us they just might leave us be." He allowed a light mist of cigar smoke to permeate the room and drift listlessly towards the Forsaken's nose.

"Now, you're probably wondering why I'm saying all this to you. What's the point? See, I realized something last night," he cleared his throat and grinned at the girl, "I realized you aren't ever going to fear me near enough as you should. So, Dollface, normally what I'd do with a specimen like you is end your life. Slowly. Painfully. Cut you apart with my hooks. You still get tremors from where my hook was in your shoulder blade last time, yeah? But, well, then I got to thinking that you've got such a lovely ability. I'd hate for that to go to waste."

He extinguished his cigar. Directly on the child's bare forearm. "Imagine sending you into an elven village and watching the skin dissolve on every one of the pointy-eared freaks. You could go into a mine and come out with the internal organs of every little dwarf inside dragging at your feet. Sounds glorious." He rubbed at his chin, his mustache wrinkled as his mouth went wide, "let me help you here Dollface. How do we both get what we want here?"

What he really meant was, 'how do I get what I want,' but it never hurt to appear cooperative.

 

[Rumer]

His hand cracks across across her face, snapping it back with the force of his blow and causing her head to reel sickeningly, leaving a swelling red welt below her eye. She stopped laughing. Her eyes were blinking hard trying to shift the black dots that blurred her vision, and she remained slumped forward for a moment before pulling herself back upright and resting her head back against the post to return her attention to him, chin raised.

She listened to him ramble on with a clenched jaw as once again he slandered her mother. She didn’t laugh again, she remained quiet, her palms growing clammy with fear as she anticipated the worst for what she’d done. She already wished Silas had succeeded in choking the life from her..

The sound of the cane approaching caused her pulse to quicken and she stared at him, eyes watering as he blew the cigar smoke in her face but she refused to close her eyes or hide her scowling little face from the man. She hated him more than anyone she had ever hated in her life and she wanted him to know it.

Rumer’s shoulder physically ached as he spoke of the hook he’d buried into it, and her face betrayed a tremor of fear. The cigar seemed to hiss against her arm and she couldn’t not scream as it seared into her skin. She squirmed, kicking out and trying to pull her arm away from him, though the cigar was extinguished and the pain lingered, eating into her flesh. She growled, sending angry little puffs through her teeth as she glared at him, tears dripping from her lashes.

His question caused her expression to loosen in realisation and she looked at the burn in her arm. She knew what he meant, and panic washed over her, draining the colour from her face..She kept her head down, her scrawny shoulders lifting and falling tremulously with each shuddered breath.

 

[Norris]

The mixed-blood was silent.

Perhaps the fear was finally starting to set in. Maybe drastic action wasn't needed. But then Norris was reminded of the cane he was now required to use. Of the dead body upstairs he'd need to explain when he returned back to Vel Anir.

"Last night, after we ate... ah, yes, you haven't had anything to eat since yesterday afternoon? Bet you're hungry." The satisfaction on his face was evident as he continued, "anyway, I sent Genevieve to a nearby outpost of ours. She returned with another one of our agents after you slayed poor Silas."

Norris placed a firm grip on the top of the half-elf's brown brown hair and forced her gaze upwards. He stared into her eyes with sheer glee. "Since you don't have any suggestions, let me tell you mine. I'm gonna rob you of your free will. Gonna have our associate come down in a moment and place a rune on the back of your neck. Like the one Snake-Eyes has. We usually save that for graduation, but, well... desperate times you know."

 

[Rumer]

Rumer frowned at the reminder of how hungry she was, but she doubted she could eat right now even if he allowed it, her stomach churned violently with nausea, not unaided by the smell of cigar smoke that threatened to make her gag.

The grip on her hair caused the child to growl, but the anger on her face soon melted into terror as he spoke. She'd known, before he'd said it, but the realisation of inevitability was clear on her face and she shook her head in his grip. Sense left her, and she cried, pleading with him though deep down she knew it was pointless. There was some childish hope. Hope that he was capable of being more than a monster, or that Genevieve would stop him, or that Nathaira would come storming in and bite him on his fat neck...But she wouldn't be saved and she knew it.

"Please!..I'll do as I'm told!" she sobbed, tears now flooding her cheeks, leaving pale wet streaks in the dried blood. "You don't have to, I swear I won't ever..." ..Kill one of you again? She'd murdered a handler and tried to murder him. More shock, more panic filled her and she couldn't breathe, her chest ached.

"I'll be good...I'll be good..........I'll be good."

 

[Norris]

Norris released the grasped he held on the child's hair and placed his hand just under her chin to keep her face fixed on his own. His emotions were impossible to read. If anything the tears glistening down the girl's face seemed to bring joy to his stone-like features.

If only the brat would've displayed this sorta fear last night. Silas wouldn't be dead. They could delay the rune for a few years. Truth be told, Norris hated the runes. You knew you owned someone when you didn't need something like that. When they did whatever you told them because they were afraid of you. Not because they were afraid of some silly magic.

But these half-bloods were exactly that. Half of a person. And you couldn't trust someone like that. You needed certain guarantees.

"Oh, so now you're willing to cooperate? Sorry Dollface, doesn't work like that." The handler let his hand slip from her face and he issued a sharp whistle upstairs.

The door swung open and down the steps descended Genevieve as well as a wrinkled woman with gray hair that shot out in all directions. The newcomer must've been at least sixty years old but Norris hadn't ever bothered to ask for her exact age.

The man grinned at the chained up girl, "this is Margie. She's gonna be the one to apply your rune today you lucky girl. Now are you gonna behave or do I need to fetch one of my hooks to hold you down?"

 

[Rumer]

Rumer wasn't just crying, she cried as though her heart was breaking as she stared back at him, floods of tears blurring her vision and she coughed and sniffled and shook her head as she pleaded and apologised again and again. She'd never felt so afraid in her life, and she felt saliva thickening in her throat as she felt sick, her body trembling as her breathing pitched to frantic like she couldn't draw in enough air before it spilled out of her lungs in another 'please'.

Her head fell forward as he let go, but the whistle caused her to flinch and she looked up, teary eyes wide with terror as she watched the woman descend the stairs.. "No no no Norris please! Tell her not to! I'll do as I'm told!". She was screaming now, fighting pointlessly against the chains like a panicking animal losing it's mind in captivity.

She stopped fighting though, as he mentioned the hooks and her body slumped helplessly, shoulders shaking with each gasp and sob as she continued to shake her head relentlessly, her words quaking and her voice broken "Norris..I won't..do it again." she coughed "I'll only..do what you say.. Please tell her not to.."

 

[Norris]

Norris looked at the weeping girl as if she was some sort of two-headed monster. The tears just wouldn't stop. He would've begun laughing if it wasn't so pathetic.

"Stop fucking crying girl. It's unbecoming of the Forsaken," he ordered with a stern voice followed by a swift punch aimed at her right cheek. He didn't believe physical trauma would really do much to stifle her tears but, if nothing else, it would make him feel a bit better about the pathetic display before him.

He held a hand up and curled his fingers rapidly in an aim to summon Margie closer. She'd need to be touching the child's neck in order to apply the rune. It didn't take long, probably just ten minutes, the half-elf wouldn't feel a thing, but it was still a rather delicate process. A mistake in the incantation Margie needed to do could result in... unseen consequences.

The handler grasped at the kid's cheeks and squeezed. Hard. "Now, my associate here is gonna come and apply the rune to the back of your neck, just under your thick little skull. You can keep on blubbering and pleading and squirming but if it interferes with her work I'll be sure to beat you until you can't struggle no more. Understood?"

He waited for her to comply. Truthfully, he wouldn't mind beating her face into a bloody mess. Might relieve some of the stress she'd given him from last night.