Hunting of the Witch (Closed for WhisperedDesires)

[VelveteenFancy]

Evanore Deamonne cursed under her breath as she came to her last active sigil. Right under the tree a corpse slumped against the trunk, the magic from the sigil used up and had gone back to the earth. Clearly another ne’er do well out to try and collect her head for some seemingly easy money. A pity really, she had been hoping that this last sigil would have bought her a few more days, until she would have the time to make more.

She half wondered if it was just a growing disdain to witches now or if there was a specific bounty on her head. Was there a wanted poster of her in the town forum? If so which form did they want? Her old crone form? Where her backed hunched and ached. Her skin turning into translucent crepe paper, peppered with dark age spots. Her bright eyes clouded over in a milky white that made most folks assume that she was blind. Pewter hair falling haphazardly around her wrinkled face in a mess of course dry curls. Or perhaps it was of this one, her natural form? She hoped not. She was unassumingly pretty that allowed her to bled into the crowd. She had reddish chestnut hair, green eyes, pale skin that never tanned no matter the hours she spent in the sun gather herbs, she just seemed to gain more smatterings of freckles with every passing summer. She was tall for a woman, lithe and willowy, but she stood at the average height of most men, though there were several that still stood taller than her.
Gods look after her if the town had wanted posters up for both of her aspects, and she has to create her new and last form to start going back into town unnoticed.

No matter the cause, witch hunters and bounty collectors were becoming more and more frequent, threatening her once peaceful life. Frankly, she didn’t have the energy to deal with the corpse nor the time to dedicate to make more wards and sigils for protection, she was far too busy trying to keep the townsfolk healthy. Maybe if the townsfolk weren’t so heavily taxed they’d be able to afford the local cleric, and spread their business out a little bit more, or maybe if current clerics weren’t so judgmental and full of piety, they would actually gain some business.

Now that she thought about it, it was probably the clerics that were responsible for the influx of hunters. She had always been a mild threat to them, a heathen worshiping her many gods and goddesses, as opposed to their one all powerful deity. To top it off she possessed the rare ability to harness and manipulate the magic that flowed through this plane. For a long while she and the clerics had held a tumultuous truce. So long as she didn’t preach and convert people back to the old gods, nor disrupt their revenue, she could survive relatively quietly.

The past couple of years a new lord had come into power, he was greedy and selfish, taxing the locals heavily, to the point that they could barely survive. And the church had grown more rigid and power hungry, all flames of hell and brimstone for those who didn’t believe in their truth. Famine, malcontent, and disease were starting to plague the town, creating a perfect habitat for dark and malevolent spirits. She couldn’t remember a time when almost all the babes wore her small charms to ward off the evil spirits. Usually she only made one or two of those charms a year, now it felt like she was making two or three evil eye charms a month. That was only one of the many reasons for the influx of her business. The more folks that came to her for potions and charms, the less coin they were throwing at the church for their tithes, and there was the rub.

Her eyes flicked back to the corpse. Energy or not she should give him a proper burial. She might have been the cause of his death, but she certainly didn’t want his spirit to be doomed on this plane. She quickly scanned the surrounding forest one more time for anyone lurking in the shadows, before turning he attention back to the body and the earth from where it would go back to. Despite not seeing anything she could hear her familiar clicking and chirping at her in warning. Saiph, her familiar. He was an overgrown scorpion, the size of a large house cat and he had the prettiest oil slick blacks exoskeleton she had ever seen. His eyes were much like hers an emerald green that would glow in the moonlight. But right now he was a chirping mess, his pinchers clicking in anger, tail poised to sting anyone who came in too close.

With a flick of her wrist and a small incantation the earth opened up a few yards away. A hole big enough for the man’s body. She choose to ignore his warning, she couldn’t see a physical threat on this plane. The hair on the back of her neck didn’t stand up like it should. So surely it must have been a being of the fourth dimension, or so she told herself, they wouldn’t bother her unless provoked. If there was someone trying to sneak up on her, well she still had some tricks up her skirts. Dreams and mind games had always been her specialties, and she had yet to sing a lullaby.

 

[WhisperedDesires]

The snap of a branch would be the first sign physical sign of his presence. A grim smile spread across his face as he entered the small clearing, eyes fixed on the witch that even now worked her vile magics. The hiss of a blade sliding free of its sheathe marked the emergence of the weapon in question, shining slightly as glittering litanies of Faith began to hum with divine power. The Witch Hunters were trained to hunt their prey without consideration for anything but the kill. This witch was cunning, careful, cautious. Rarely did she emerge from her protections, and only then when such spells had done their wicked work. So it was that he'd exploited them, hinting to a passing sellsword of her presence, and let him run to his death. So it was that he'd drawn her out, like a moth to flame, ready to face judgement under his blade.

The man was tall and broad shouldered, adorned in armor of leather. The holy symbols of the Church of the Everburning was displayed prominently, a burning sun emblazoned onto his chest. Eyes of stormy grey remained fixed upon the witch, tracking even the slightest of movements for signs of danger. Skin, tanned from constant exposure to the outdoors, was complimented by bland brown hair, cut short to keep it out of his face. Scars crisscrossed his face, showing years already of combat against the witches and their vile servants. This was a man who'd survived many tangles with magic already, surviving again and again to continue the endless hunt against the heretic.

All the better that she know her impending doom, that she see the instrument of the Everburning god above. His voice rang out, speaking the litanies of the Hunt, as was always proper when one finally caught up to their prey.

"And he said unto us: Hunt the wicked, my children. I gift to you my eternal flame, that their impurity might be burned away. I grant you my Faith, for so long as you shall hold to my teachings you shall be free of taint, of corruption and of evil. Seek not the teachings of the unfaithful, for in their weakness they have turned form the light. Pity not those who must be cleansed in fire, for their purity shall be unmatched. Speak my words, and my fire shall grace your blade. Speak my words, and my light shall fill your soul."

The sword in his hands burst into flames, the sigils singing as he spoke the words all Hunters knew. That grim smile grew firmer at the sight, for the Everburning had granted him the power to see his task done once more. Another to send to the judgement she deserved. Another to be freed from her wickedness, to be granted salvation in the purifying flame. So it would be done, as the Everburning willed it.

"You shall be as my sword, bearing my fury to the world. You shall be as my shield, guarding the souls of the weak. You shall be my hunters, and you shall seek out those who scorn my love.

"Burn the wicked. Purge the corrupt. Let judgement be done."

 

[VelveteenFancy]

She knew of his kind all too well. Self righteous. Corrupt. No respect towards the living. He probably left a wake of blood behind him in the name all that is holy. She wouldn’t be surprised if he had sent the now late mercenary after her. Then again maybe she was being to harsh on him perhaps he was patient and had just gotten lucky, either way this felt like some sort of ambush. There’s no way he just happened to find her with no more wards for protection.

If he was hoping for her to cower under the power of the Everburning, he should have found a different witch . Instead she only made sure to close the eyes at the body at her feet. She took a step away from the body, bringing herself closer to the hunter and stood tall. Unmovingly so. She had to refrain from rolling her eyes at his pious bullshit. Judgement indeed. She recognized his power, his strength, and the way his doctrine had warped and brain washed him. If this was supposed to be her day, and at his hands, so be it. She would happily bare the weight of the cosmos.

“Then let this be my judgement day by your gods and by mine. If my wickedness is so great I will parish by your sword.”

She took a deep breath in, pulling the elemental magic from the forest and breathed out. The breeze started to pick up around her moving from her to the hunter. Tendrils from her hair dancing around her face as the wind picked up. From a pouch strapped around her waist she pulled a out a small handful of a fine shimmery powder. Sand blessed by Morpheus himself, a powerful sleeping drought on it’s own. The wind was already was already starting to pick up bits of the powder, she jus coaxed it along, blowing the pile into the air.

And then she sang. Her voice was sweet and pure. Her lullaby that of an old language from the heavens . It was laced with magic to pull anyone who heard it into a deep sleep. Even the nearby animals started to doze off from the witch’s spell. Now combination with the powder that swirled around him it should only be a matter of moments before he collapsed in slumber. If he was as devout as he claimed, his will as strong as he believed. She should be an easy target. She hadn’t even raised a weapon in self defense. But something told her he would succumb to her pull.

 

[WhisperedDesires]

The song struck him, like being dragged beneath the ocean waves. He stumbled at first, as the weariness seeped into his limbs, as thoughts became clouded. A growl of anger rumbled in his throat as he struggled to remain on his feet. The blade he held, the roaring flame that danced upon its edge, the heat from it washing across his face, allowed him the momentary strength to fight off the first calls of the melody. His grip tightened, strong enough to bite into his own hands, even as he took shuddering steps forward.

"Everburning, guide my path, that I do not stray. Shield me from the taint of the wicked, that I might remain pure in my faith."

The song continued, the weariness getting stronger. Fingers began to grow numb, limbs became as lead upon his body. He stumbled again, catching himself once more, even as he began to grit his teeth, fighting against the siren call, fighting against the foul magic the heretic dared cast over his form. He would not succumb. He would NOT succumb!

"By your will, I shall... I shall be your blade. By your light... By your light I am made... whole..."

The fire upon his blade flickered and died as his concentration failed. Animals he was only vaguely aware of were falling asleep all around him, curling up to blissfully doze. He fought on, fought the growing compulsion to rest his head. He fell to his knees then, sword jabbed into the soil to help prop himself up, to keep his head from hitting the grass, to keep himself for just those few moments longer.

"In fire... in fire..."

And then there was only darkness.

 

[VelveteenFancy]

She sang for a few moments longer ensuring that he was deep within the confines of dreamland. His will was strong, very strong he had just about reached her before collapsing. For a brief second she had almost thought she was going to face her reckoning.

“ —in fire, for their purity shall be unmatched.” She finished for him. She had come across enough of these religious nut cases (and survived all of their judgements) to know their prayers. “I suppose I’m not as wicked as you might think. Your god has judged me and spared my life again.”

The forest was eerily quiet, any nearby creature was fast asleep, and would be for a few more hours yet. She hoped that her attacker would be in the same situation peaceful slumbers for the next hours if not the rest of the night. Still she looked over the forest searching for any left over threats before resuming the burial that the hunter had so rudely interrupted. Carefully she laid the mercenary’s body to rest, sending his body back to the earth, and a prayer to the gods to guide his spirit. Now to deal with the other body.

She pet Saiph, her fingers running over is smooth scales. “Now what? I can’t just leave him sleeping there.” She spoke to the scorpion, he seemed to respond in a serious of chitters and clicks. Now whether she truly understood him, or just pretended could be anyone’s guess. “No I’m not going to kill him in his sleep. That’s cowardice and wrong, even if he might do the same to me.” There was the dilemma. She had too much of a conscience to kill him outright in cold blood, and she had too much self preservation to leave him out here, only to attack her another day. The only other option was to hold him hostage, she hated that idea too. “Don’t give me that look Saiph... You’re right I’m going to hate myself in the morning over this.”

Getting him back to her small one room cabin had been easy enough, despite him being considerably bigger. Of course she had used a little bit magic to help her along, with what little bit of power she had left. Ensuring that he wouldn’t be a threat when he woke up proved more challenging. Stripping him of his weapons, his armor, his shoes and anything else she deemed threatening wasn’t the hard part. Her modest home however was not meant to be a prison. She didn’t have chains dangling from the rafters, there were no pillars or poles to tie him to. The sturdiest thing she had to chain him to was the wrought iron of her bed frame. Curses that meant giving her bed up to someone who clearly wouldn’t appreciate the sacrifice. Still she gave him one more look over, make sure that his chains would hold, and that he would have no possible way of attacking her.

“Not a word.” She glared at her familiar “I told you I’m going to hate this decision in the morning. In fact I hate it already, but I’m out of magic and I have no other options.” With that she settled into her rocking chair. Her eyes drifting close as sleep took a hold of her.

 

[WhisperedDesires]

He awoke suddenly, going from resting to alert in moments. For a few precious minutes he lay still in the darkness, senses seeking hints as to his fate. For a moment, death and passing into the Everburning's embrace was considered, but no. Scripture spoke of a place of endless light and warmth. This was dark, bathed only in the smallest bit of the moon's glow. Slowly his head moved, studying the environment. The space was small, a cabin, he concluded. The telltale signs of living were easily picked out, even in the gloom, the dying embers of the fireplace, the pot that hung above it. The smell of herbs, crushed and mixed, left a sour taste in the hunter's mouth, a mark of a witch's vile concoctions. Hopefully his own body hadn't been tainted by some unholy mixture.

She was there too, curled up into a chair, from the look of things fast asleep. His eyes narrowed as they found her, considering. The witch was a vile thing, and had no reason to keep one of the Everburning's blessed hunters alive. There was only one conclusion to be had, that she had some wicked purpose for him. Experimentation perhaps? Testing some poison upon his flesh, torturing him for the secrets of the divine that he held? Whatever it was, he must find a way to free himself of this place.

He lacked armor and weapons, likely stripped of them as soon as the witch had the opportunity. He would recover all of it eventually, but for now to examine what he did have. Slow movements revealed his limbs were fully mobile, rested even under the witch's enchantments. He would be grateful if not the product of heresy. One of his arms, however, was chained to the bed itself, a heavy thing that would be difficult to free himself from. Difficult, but not impossible. With a wary eye on the witch, he began to work at the lock, testing its limits carefully, searching for any weakness. The chain itself was likely too difficult to break with mere strength, but the bed might prove more easily defeated. Carrying a heavy chain with him would be difficult, but it would perhaps be a satisfying kill, to throttle the witch with that which she used to bind him.

 

[VelveteenFancy]

It wasn’t the slight clicking of the chain that woke Evanore but rather her familiar who had grown restless at their guest’s rousing. At first she blinked her bleary eyes for a few moments. Her eyes taking a little bit of time to adjust to the darkness and ward off sleep. It was much too early to be awake. It was the darkest part of the night, the time just before dawn when the moon was trying to set and the sun was trying to rise. She had barely had enough rest, surely dark circles would form under her eyes, and her motions would be more sluggish from fatigue, but her magic was restored. For now that was the most important part. She could feel her magic whispering through her veins, a comfortable warmth pooling in her core.

She made lunge towards her captive, blade plunging towards his throat for a coup de grace. She stopped herself from the kill, leaving hardly a nick from the dagger, but she held her weapon at his throat, almost suspended in time. A silent threat that she held his very life in her hands. An intimidation that she hoped would make him think twice before crossing her.

“I should kill you. Do what you would do unto me. Still, killing a man unarmed and bound doesn’t sit well with me.” She sheathed her dagger, and sat on the bed next to him resting a hand on his chest. His heart beat was warm and steady against her palm. It was so easy to disassociate from him. Claim that he was just a religious nutcase, so warped by his church that he had become a demon to kill her. That steady pulse she felt from him, his own magic beat in tandem with his heart reminded her that they had more in common. They both had been born of this earth, both had found magic, and eventually they’d both return to the earth when they died. Perhaps a little compassion on her part might help him to see the same thing.

With a heavy sigh, she moved away from the bed, towards a bucket of water she kept near the hearth. The sound of water sloshing into a copper cup before she returned to his bedside carefully sitting on the edge of the mattress.

“You should drink. The sleeping powder I used has a side effect of dehydration.” She offered pushing the cup towards him, only to pull it away from him. Clearly he wasn’t going to cooperate. She shouldn’t have been surprised. He was a fanatic. He probably was brainwashed into thinking that she was a vile being puked up from the depths of hell, sent to torment him and all of humanity.

“It’s not poison I promise, just water.” She took a large gulp from the cup to prove her point and once again offered him a drink, placing the the cup close to his lips again.

“Contrary to your beliefs, I mean you and your brothers no ill will. I don’t want to see you dead. I never wanted to kill anyone, but I also don’t want to die. Your lot hasn’t given me a lot of choice in that matter. I just want to be left alone. What if I promise to just keep to myself, and I’ll let you go unharmed, in return you don’t kill me, and leave me alone and we’ll call it all good?” She offered in a pathetic excuse of diplomacy. She had never been very good with people. She had a penchant for either talking too much, or too little, and she was never able to say the right thing. Living off in the woods alone with only her scorpion for conversation probably hadn’t helped her cause. Still she would rather try the talking route first before resorting to magic.

 

[WhisperedDesires]

He was silent at the blade against his throat, though he frozen in place at the sudden burst of motion. Within, he scoffed in disbelief. Letting him live was a mistake, one which he would not have made if her were in her place. But he would take advantage of her weakness without complaint, for as long as he lived the chance at redeeming himself for his failure existed.

When her hand pressed against his chest, he froze, waiting for some foul magic to rip through his body. He expected torture, pain, interrogation. He could only steel himself for the inevitable and pray for the strength to endure. When it didn't come after a few precious seconds, he recoiled from her touch, eager to be free of her. If she would not strike at him with her heresy, then he would not suffer her touch longer than he had to.

When she brought him water, he naturally refused it. He had watched her retrieve it, but her foul magic could easily have been used to poison the contents in some way he could not understand. Even her drinking it couldn't prove its safety, she could be immune to whatever she would do to it. But... he needed to keep his strength, to stay alert and ready for the moment he could take his opportunity for freedom. So he drank what was offered, drinking slowly in an attempt to gauge if anything had been done to it.

Her offer of peace, however, was met with outright defiance. The only thing that was just and right would be her death, and whether that happened now or later was the only question that needed an answer.

"There will be no peace between us, witch. One of us will die, on way or the other."

 

[VelveteenFancy]

“Probably.”
She couldn’t argue with him on his assessment. He was going to be the death of her. She could feel it deep in the marrow of her bones as sure as she could feel her own magic. The only thing she could do now was to delay it instead.

Evanore let him drink his fill water, when the cup emptied she almost cast a spell on it, so that the cup would never run dry, but she figured that would spook him even more. Instead she took the extra steps to go fill the cup and bring it back to him until his thirst was quenched. When she finally left his side she circled the bed inspecting his bonds. Occasionally touching the bed frame or the chains that held him down and whispered a mending spell. She was satisfied that, that would hold him, if she had to she could prepare something stronger yet though she doubted he’d appreciate it. The whole while, hhe was careful not to touch him, or let her own magic hum against his skin. When she was satisfied she went about her day.

For the first few hours of the early morning she didn’t say much, just the occasional incantation for a small spell, and the very occasional coos, and whispered sweet nothings to her scorpion. She all but ignored her captive. She didn’t mean to be rude and say nothing, but she had never been much a morning person to begin with, combine that with not being used to company and being extra grumpy... Well, if you don’t have anything nice to say then don’t say it at all. Instead she choose to toil around the cabin going about her usual routine.

She made the attempt to limit her use of magic, not in fear of her guest but out of consideration. It grew abundantly clear that she had lived with the arcane arts for a long time. The power at her fingertips came too absentmindedly that she only caught herself using it after the fact, like when she light the hearth. She had meant to use the flint and start it the slow painstakingly way, out of habit she had held her hand over the logs and simply summoned a roaring fire. Once she had done it she silently cursed herself, and sent an almost apologetic look to the man tethered to her bed. The rest of her morning chores went much the same way most she remembered to do with out the help of spell, though she did slip up on occasion.

Breakfast was one that she prided over. She had managed (barely) to not use any magic. It was simple a slice of toast, with cheddar cheese and an egg on top. It always came out better when she used her magic to help her cook this time the food came out a little bland, and the egg whites a little runny. She was truly happy that it came out edible.

“Are you hungry? If I give you breakfast will you eat it?”

 

[WhisperedDesires]

"I'll eat."

The words were said grudgingly, and only then because he'd watched her work at making it the entire time. Every flash of magic had him tensing, expecting some attack. some reprisal. None ever came, but his vigilance didn't falter. It could come at any time, the heretic deciding whatever plans she had for him were no longer of any interest to her. That she whispered to the insect she carried with her was yet more signs of her delusions and foul magic, for surely such a creature was useful only to those who would resort to poison and treachery in their lives. Whatever kindness she showed was a falsehood, carefully portrayed to lower his guard. He would not be fooled.

It is the light of the Everburning that shields us from the temptation of the dark.