Completed Cozy Little Cottage

She seemed to hear the sickening thud his hand made against her cheek before she felt the pain of it. The strike was dizzying, and her head reeled, silencing her immediately. She breathed hard, squeezing her eyes open and shut, trying to blink the black spots from her vision. Her face felt like it was on fire, and already it swelled and blackened from the trauma..

Rumer had been trying to keep her teary gaze averted from him, a cowering wreck that physically rattled the chains that held her. She had no choice but to look at him though as he grabbed painfully at her face and she let out another quiet, involuntary sob. As she searched her mind for a way out of this, she found no answer, her eyes looked between him and the old lady and back again before they closed, loosing another few muted tears.

When he let her go, her body slumped forward in defeat, but her mind continued implode with terror, pain and regret. Above it all was rage. Rage that this is what her life had become, she’d jumped out of the frying pan and straight into the fire. Once her father’s tool, physically abused from the day of her birth until the day he died. And she’d ended up here, wishing her father were still alive, she’d go back to even that life if she had a choice. Her entire life had been pain, and she had to accept that there was far more to come.

The thought darkened in her mind as she waited tremulously for the last of her free will to be taken from her.
 
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Margie drew nearer as Norris placed a firm hand on the child's shoulder. He'd keep her steady as her body seemed to go limp and the will to fight gave out. He needed to keep her steady, hold her upright, as poor Margie wasn't exactly fit and spry anymore. The less the elderly woman needed to bend over the better.

Soft and wrinkled hands were placed on the back of the girl's neck as a second frail hand brushed brown hair upwards and held it in place. Her finger began to trace unusual lines all throughout the half-elf's neck while muttering archaic words. It was likely that the application of the rune would cause a tingle, or so Norris had been told, but the rune shouldn't be painful. If done right that is. It certainly looked gruesome once completed but the actual process was fairly straightforward.

"There, there," the handler cooed at the young Forsaken, "will only be a few moments more." She would likely remember this moment for a long time. Even though the experienced handler rarely made use of the runes, preferring to use them only if it was absolutely necessary, they tended to have a rather profound psychological impact on the Forsaken.

Made sense, the inferior species didn't have the same mental fortitude of full-blooded Anirians.

Norris cast a look at Genevieve who ascended back up the steps before reappearing. Carrying a large, wriggling, sack down the stairs into the basement.
 
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Rumer couldn't stop herself from shaking. She felt like the world was slowly disappearing in front of her. Perhaps it was her who was fading away. It didn't matter anyway. Her empty stomach burned and her heart hit her chest so hard she thought it might break her rips and rip apart her skin. A few small wounds appeared on her arms, it was the only thing she could think about in the void, a black hole in her head, deep inside her soul, slowly swallowing all hopes and dreams the child had ever had of freedom and peace. That was the worst of those moments. The realization of the vacuum, the nothingness, the absurd of her existence. This was it.

She felt nothing, the tingling was ignored as were the woman's words, though her jaw clenched at the gentle way in which she said them, as though she was curing her of a cut or graze and not burning a rune into her that was about to deprive her of her freewill. She might as well have been ripping her soul out.

The tears were stinging at her eyes now, and over the course of the process they dried up and stopped, her expression void of any emotion what so ever as she continued to pull in short little breaths and quake under Norris' hold...
 
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He could tell that the kid had gone numb now. Apathy was useful, it seemed common amongst the elf gals. Bat-Ears herself never seemed to show any emotion. Maybe that's how the elven half coped with the horrors of knowing you were a half-bred freak. But you could mold an apathetic soul pretty simply. Give 'em a set of instructions and they'll carry it out without being bound up by emotion. He'd much prefer for Dollface to be an emotionless wreck than the spiteful bitch he saw last night.

Margie looked up at Norris and simply said, "it's done," before she waltzed passed the burlap sack on the ground and up the staircase. A few guards upstairs would likely be escorting her back to the outpost swiftly. Margie wasn't very talented at much but her use of rune magic was awe inspiring and as such her abilities were always in high demand by various officials within Vel Anir's sphere of influence.

"Congratulations little one, you're marked now. You've still got a lot to learn, lots of training to go through, but you can rest assured that you've got yourself a family now," he grinned down at the girl in a sadistic face that seemed to be lavishing every second of this situation. "As a reward..." he muttered as his grip finally left the kid's shoulder and his cane thudded over towards the sack, "...I'm gonna let you fix your little error from last night. See, Forsaken don't make errors. They don't leave loose ends."

He undid the sack and revealed the same elf girl from last night. Just as malnourished, still bound and gagged, still writhing around with tears streaming down her face. Dollface needed to fix this little problem and he was hopeful she'd do it without needing the rune invoked.

Genevieve turned her head away towards a novel she had brought. Norris never understood why the junior handler was so adverse to bloodshed. If he didn't know any better he'd have sworn the woman felt some degree of sympathy for the elves and the Forsaken. Best not ever let anyone know that little fact or Genevieve would spend a few months in lockup. And now that he owed the gal his life, well, he wasn't keen to being overly critical of her actions. Not to mention it was nice to be in the presence of someone who didn't have their blood muddied by some sick sexual escapades.

His lips parted as he issued the command towards the child, "I don't like using that lousy rune on your neck girl. But I'm only going to ask once before I start commanding. I want you to kill the knife-eared rodent on the ground. Slowly. Melt her flesh. Once you're finished I'll go an fetch you something to eat," he was certain the child was hungry. She'd gone without dinner and now without breakfast and it was fast approaching lunch time.
 
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Congratulations, her life was officially theirs. The youngest member of her new so called family. Rumer's eyes closed, trying to still her mind. She wanted him to shut up and leave her here. She didn't care about food, she didn't care about anything right now other than being left alone.

She knew the elf was there, but she couldn't bring herself to look as Norris spoke to her. Her bones continued to rattle in the constant fear of the future that loomed before her and her heart piqued so that her pulse pressed outward, jerking the veins within and pounding in her ears.

Rumer was highly doubtful that she was going to want to eat after being forced to melt the tragic elf's flesh from her bones. Her brow knit forward and her jaw clenched hard, she wasn't sure what would happen to her if she refused, she didn't know how it worked, or whether she wanted to test that for herself. Either way the elven woman was going to die, she'd failed to save either of them from their fates. But what she knew more than any of that was that she still didn't want to kill her..

She didn't move, or speak, she needed time to think.
 
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He had given the order, the girl had heard it, and then... well, nothing.

Nothing happened.

The elf still had her flesh. Norris was still waiting impatiently. And the child was just standing there. Motionless, breathless, speechless.

"Why are you hesitating, girl?" his voice was loud. Annoyed. He had told her already that he would ask just the one time and he was a man of his word. He wasn't going to ask her to perform her civic duty a second time but he wasn't ready to use the rune. Not yet.

The rune, upon activation, tended to cause a searing pain for many Forsaken. It also willed their body to move against their own inclinations. Norris hated the runes. An obedient dog shouldn't need a choke collar, it should mind its owner's commands without the threat of being forced.

He'd give her another moment to collect herself and perform what she had been asked to. Then he'd be forced to mutter the accursed words to activate her new mark.
 
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Rumer's tremulous little body flinched as he shouted and she looked up slowly, her eyes angry and red from tears. She could feel the tingling at the back of her neck now, and nausea churned in her stomach. She had to, there wasn't really a choice in the matter..

Her gaze fell on the woman, she looked like a corpse already, there really wasn't much flesh left on her bones in the first place. She'd suffered enough for Norris as it was..

Rumer gathered her thoughts as she always did, focusing on her anger and hatred, and now she had so so much more of it. She let it out in a ear splitting scream, a sound not of fear but of sheer fury, grief and a broken mind. The woman writhed and despite the cloth in her mouth she still managed an agonising shriek as the temperature of her blood spiked rapidly.

A deep wound burst open on the woman's throat and wrists as Rumer focused on not killing her slowly, but calling the blood to spill from her body as quickly as possible. The woman's shrieking stopped abruptly, before her skin started to bubble and melt and slide from her bones.

Rumer let her scream die out and she finished off with a few pained growls and slumped forward, shuddering as she rasped in a few deep breaths, coughed, and vomited on the floor.
 
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"Wow! Did you fuckin' see that?" the glee in his voice was almost contagious as he pointed at the mangled mess that was once the elven girl. Genevieve barely rose her gaze towards the pile of blood and viscera before grimacing and looking back towards her book. "Clean yourself up gal, that was mighty impressive," the handler stated as he grabbed a towel and tossed it over towards the half-elf.

She'd need to learn to settle her nerves better. Compose herself more and probably be a bit less ruthless. It was far more terrifying to see your kinsmen die slowly than to be reduced to a pulp so quickly. Either would prove useful for intimidating the lesser races though. He'd have to consult with Snake-Eyes so that she understood how vital Dollface's abilities would be. How important it was for the girl to fill her heart with hate and fury instead of the pathetic fear and 'morality' she seemed to possess now.

"We've got a bit of the stew still on the coals upstairs, I'll fetch you a bowl. You've earned it," the handler said as his cane thudded up the steps.

As soon as the door shut behind him the junior handler closed her book and swept towards the child. A white mist appeared out of one hand and twirled over some of the cuts that the girl had inflicted upon herself, causing them to close up and cease bleeding. With her other hand she grabbed the towel that Norris had flung and dabbed it on the half-breed's cheek and lips to clean off the residual vomit. "When he returns, eat something, we'll get you out of these chains and see if he'll allow us to depart once you have finished your meal," she said in a calm and caring voice.

Genevieve understood the horrors of Vel Anir. She had been given away by her parents when her abilities manifested and saved the life of her elder brother at the age of five. The horrors of the academy were terrible and the woman never forgot the first few years of her life before the dreadlord training. She knew enough to know that the Forsaken had it much, much, worse. Norris was by far the most cruel proctor at the academy and as a handler he had dialed up his brutality to eleven.

The door slammed open, he descended again. "Eat up," the man said as he slid a bowl of venison stew across the stone floor with the kick of his boot. Genevieve looked at the young girl and nodded in her direction.
 
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She had half expected Norris to be unhappy about how quickly the elf had fallen silent, but it seemed the gore had pleased him enough to spare her any further punishment and she let out a shuddered breath in relief. It was done, perhaps she'd be left alone now, perhaps she could go back to Nathaira. The towel hit her and she frowned, her heavy eyes falling on the bloody pile of flesh, blood and bone on the floor. Her stomach threatened to convulse again, but she had nothing left in her stomach to bring up. She looked away, ignoring Norris' words and trying her best to keep a grip on her mind as she started to panic again. What had she done? You didn't have a choice. She's dead. She died quickly..You didn't have a choice, he'd have made you do it....He can do that now.

Rumer couldn't breathe, as soon as he left the room she broke down, teary eyes staring back at Genevieve as she sobbed. The woman's calming voice was unexpected, she hadn't expected her to speak to her at all. She'd almost killed her too. "I don't want to do this..." her head shook, and she repeated again, and again.

She flinched as the door slammed open again and she looked down, trying to hide her tears and be still and quiet. Eyes fell on the stew as some of it sloshed onto the floor at her feet and catching Genevieve's look she reached shakily to pick up the bowl, and eat with a very quiet, very forced 'Thank you..'
 
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Norris nodded at the mixed-blood's thanks. Maybe the rune had finally done the trick and turned an otherwise unruly animal into a subservient tool. Still, he needed to assure that the child's progress wasn't inhibited. He needed to know that Snake-Eyes would cause the girl to understand the illegitimacy of the inferior species of Arethil. Understand that she was a weapon that was needed to defend humanity from the viles of the foul beings that threatened it.

"You did good. Genevieve is gonna take you back, with a letter I'm to write to your mentor. But I just wanna say," he walked closer, the sound of two feet and a cane thudded loudly. His rough, crackled hand, touched the soft of the girl's cheek though he didn't force her to look up this time. "I've got a keen interest in you Dollface. You're going to be mighty useful for Vel Anir's progress. For the defense of humanity. What I saw last night," he snickered as he remembered the manner in which Silas was forever silenced by the child, "what you did to Silas? That was beautiful. All that wild rage and hatred. We just gotta focus it to where it belongs."

His hand released from her face as he slowly made his way towards the staircase. Handing a copper-colored key over to the junior handler en route. "You've got a lot of anger Dollface. I intend to weaponize it. If you do as your told life will get a bit easier. I promise you that." He turned his face and glared at the girl, looking as serious as he ever had towards the half-elf and stated, "And if you don't, well, I'll use that rune and I'll force you to kill Snake-Eyes."

He ascended up the staircase and wrote his instructions to the half-Naga on a plain piece of parchment. He'd let the kid finish up her meal and then have Genevieve escort her back to the Anirian underground. Hopefully his letter would convey his instructions to the more experienced Forsaken accurately.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Snake-Eyes,

I have to give you credit, thanks for convincing me you should take on the girl. I'm glad we didn't kill her when she was first brought in. I had her brought up to my cottage at the edge of the Falwood, you remember the place? Think I brought you up here for your 16th birthday. Good memories.

Anyways, she exceeded my expectations. Her ability is simply a marvel to behold and I can't wait for her to grow up a bit more, cement her loyalty to our noble cause, and then unleash that raw power onto every elf, orc, dwarf, or other simpleton that threatens our great society.


Got some simple instructions with that in mind. She's too soft. I need you to harden her up. Show her the debauchery and filth of the lesser races. Make her hate them as much as I do. I got to see a demonstration of her unadulterated rage and power. It's awe-inspiring. We need to channel that in a productive manner.

And Snake-Eyes? This ain't an ask. You don't want to know what happens if you fail.

Sincerely,
Your Father
 
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