Diary of the Dead: Chapter I - Hollow Daydreams

[Witchblade]

((Solo))


It was dark. Torches along the smoothly cut stone walls set the area ablaze, turning the grey rock into a shade of orange. Yet even so, the shadows lurked in the corners of a ceiling high above her head, making it hard for her see everything. Why weren’t her eyes cutting through the darkness like they always did? She could not remember the last time she had actually seen darkness like this. It was as if she had the eyes of a human. There had been many times when she had thought about exactly how humans viewed the world and she figured it would be something like this. For when there was any source of light around, her eyes would naturally use it to pierce through the deepest shadows. Only now they weren’t adjusting. That wasn’t the only thing either. Colours were not as vibrant and she could not perceive the great detail she normally could. She knew the stone was porous, but she couldn’t actually see it. She knew there were imperfections along the wood and metal torches and yet they looked smoother to her. Not to mention she couldn’t see the end of this hallway. It stretched out before her as pockets of darkness, broken only by the meagre light of torches too many feet apart.

She wasn’t alone either. Instead of feeling them—sensing or smelling them—she saw them as they walked passed. They were shrouded in dark brown robes that covered most of their bodies from her view. Even their faces were hidden from her. Deep hoods hid their heads and cast dark shadows over their faces until nothing could be distinguished. The only time she caught a glimpse of them was when the light from the flames caught their faces at just the right angle. But they were merely glances. Never could she properly see their features.

She stopped walking to…to…where had she been going? She couldn’t remember anymore. One of the robed people passing by turned their head towards her and the light flooded across their visage. Her eyes widening slightly as she saw tanned skin, light blue hair and black eyes that observed her for but a moment before continuing on. She felt her heart skip a beat and flutter within the confines of her chest. There had been no pupil, no iris or eyeball definition, just black. There had only been a black so deep it could swallow her. Was this fear this she was feeling? The emotion was so alien to her she wasn’t even sure. Then why was she feeling it now all because some person stopped to look at her? It didn’t make any sense.

Those eyes had not belonged to a human. She wasn’t sure how she knew…she just knew. Though their bodies had a humanoid shape, they weren’t human. Just like Demos and Elves weren’t human. None of the beings that passed by her were. Even though she originally suspected they were, something within her was just telling her that they were something far different.

Turning her gaze from the hallway before her, she looked down. Unlike the others walking around Witch found herself wearing a pristine white robe that was trimmed in a shimmering silver thread. It was quite beautiful and felt wondrously soft against her skin, bit also a little cold. As if the material didn’t hold heat very well. Cold, that was strange. The temperature never bothered her skin before, not like it did other creatures. She rarely felt the cold unless it was freezing and the heat unless it was blistering.

Lifting her arms, she felt the material slide down her skin, caressing her and making her shiver. It revealed slightly tanned skin and hands that were scarred by many battles. Her knuckles were littered with white lines, some of which were raised and others indented. The index finger on her right hand looked deformed as if it had been broken in battle and not properly set, or perhaps it had never properly healed. Healed… the thought of her body not quickly and perfectly healing was disconcerting, but she didn’t know why. It was just a tickle in the back of her mind that was trying to tell her something and failing miserably.

Something lightly caressed her right shoulder, resting there for a moment before travelling across her back and coming to rest on her left arm. The motion reminded her of a snake, coiling and wrapping itself around her. Her entire body tensed, every muscle springing to life and begging to do something but her mind not knowing what. Even her stomach turned, roiling around as if filled with rotten food. Then she watched as someone rounded her line of sight. A male wearing the same thick and heavy looking robes that everyone else wore, concealing his form from her. The first thing she noticed was his long white hair and too gentle face that smiled at her. But his eyes were cold, just as the light blue colour suggested they were. As cold as ice. She didn’t want him touching her. It sickened her.

He opened his mouth to speak. His lips moving and making the notion of speech as he showed off perfectly white, straight teeth. But she couldn’t hear anything. There was a roaring sound that seemed to drown out all noise. Even the gentle crackle of the torches, ambient noise she had barely noticed until its absence and the soft thuds of multiple feet on stone. When she didn’t respond to him, the fake smile faded away, replaced by a genuine look of concern. But why was he concerned? She just couldn’t hear him, maybe if he would speak up over that roaring noise she would be able to understand what he was trying to tell her. He spoke again, her eyes focusing on his lips trying to make it out. But it didn’t help and the sound was only growing louder, blocking out everything around her to a deafening state. She took a step forward to get away from him; she wanted to get away from him…

[Witchblade]

Her foot landed awkwardly, painfully twisting and throwing her balance off. The ground was no longer flat, the smooth stone was replaced with uneven rock and dirt that rose and fell in large chunks. The way nature intended it to be. Light replaced dark and confusion reigned within her mind. She could feel the pain radiating from her ankle, smell the forest all around her and hear the overpowering sound of crashing water, but her mind was dull. It took it all in too slowly. An open blue sky spanned before her, broken only by the occasional white, puffy cloud that looked much like cotton. The sky tilted, rose and then was replaced by a span of deep green trees so far below her they looked like a living rug. They swayed with the wind as it cut through the area, creating a ripple that passed through it as if it were water.

She was falling and the ground far below her was quickly beginning to rise up and meet her. The realization snapped her mind back from the haze it had fallen into. Her eyes darted around, noting the cliff she had been standing on, the one she was now falling beside. Lashing out, Witch wrapped her fingers around the sharp face of a jutting rock. She gripped it as hard as she could, holding back a cry as her body suddenly stopped its free fall, snapping her arm straight and making it feel as if her shoulder had been torn from its socket. Her side slammed against the surface of the cliff, causing a rush of air to escape her lungs in a strangled grunt as her as she lost her grip on the jagged rock. Her fingers relaxed and then slipped from the surface, causing her arm and her body to scrap along the cliff as the sharp surface ripped into her flesh. Quickly, she grabbed a hold of another rock, the rough surface grating against the cuts on her hand and causing more pain to crawl up her arm. The fact that calling on her wings would have potentially been much more painful was of little consolation to her. Pain was a constant in her life and as such she was surprisingly resistant to it. That being said…that still hurt like a bitch!

For a few seconds she stayed like that. Her hand gripping the side of a sheer cliff as blue blood dripped down her arm and the wounds already began to heal. Her other arm was dangling at her side and her cloak was swirling all around her as the harsh wind whipped across the rocks. Looking up, the halfling noticed she’d only fallen roughly thirty feet and peeking over the edge of the cliff was a small, white-scaled face with extremely large black eyes that looked rather worried.

Sighing, Witch began to hoist herself up. For a normal person it would have been a rather difficult feat, if not impossible, especially with a five-hundred pound sword strapped to their back. But there was nothing normal about her and doing this was barely a work out. Within a few seconds she was sitting upon the edge, petting the head of her baby dragon. His fat little body curled up against her leg and his purrs almost inaudible in the noise coming from the waterfall. She couldn’t really see it from here, but she knew just about ten feet to the right of her a river ended and fell, rolling down rough rock until crashing a hundred feet below.

“Don’t worry, Daegun. I’m fine. I just lost my balance.”

Witch knew that her pet was smart, but she swore the look he was giving her now basically said he didn’t believe a single word of that statement. She didn’t blame him. She barely believed herself, actually she didn’t believe herself at all. Just what was that thing she saw? She didn’t recognize the building, though she actually hadn’t seen much of it. It could have been any number of places, a temple, a ruin, an underground tunnel even or perhaps just a hall in some structure. And the people in them, she couldn’t even tell what race they were. Had it been a flashback from her past? It was quite possible, but she just couldn’t be sure and that was unsettling to her.

Normally, flashbacks were brought out when she physically touched someone and she didn’t remember touching anyone. She didn’t even remember how she got here or coming out for a walk in the forest. In fact, the entire day was just blank time in her mind.

Daegun nudged her leg, drawing Witchblade attention away from her musings and back to him. She gave him a small smile and stood up, wiping the blood from her hand on her cloak and dusting off her pants.

“You’re right. Let’s head back.”

Letting out another one of his cute purrs, Daegun bounded off ahead of her, disappearing into the tightly growing trees and thick undergrowth of Concordia.

[Witchblade]

The base was bustling with activity. Humans rushed to and fro working on various tasks assigned to them. Most were building homes and not just for themselves but also for their neighbours and their friends and even complete strangers, helping each other out in any way they could. It would have been admirable, if she cared about that shit and if it weren’t for the fact that they were tearing down the forest in order to do so. What had started off as a small natural clearing in the woods was quickly growing bigger and bigger as anything that got in the way was destroyed. Trees older than any human could ever wish to be were cut from their roots and chopped into precise pieces that would make the walls and the roof of a building meant to shelter them. Animals that made this place their home were either scared away or killed for food. Joining the Gol’bron had seemed like a good idea originally but now she was beginning to second guess her choice.

Witch moved through the activity, passing by soldiers on patrol who nodded respectfully to her and simple worker who kept their heads down. She passed the structural skeletons of homes to be, and moved to an inner area of the town where few humans seemed to be roaming and things were far calmer. Most of the humans were out working to recreate one the greatest clans that had ever existed on Althanas, which was why things were so quiet here. Those that were here, quietly moved through the mass of tan tents, settings fires, cooking meals and cleaning various objects they thought they had a need for. This was the beginning of a clan she had been a part of in its prime, a clan that was now trying to reform itself and left her wondering in the wake if this was truly where she belonged. That was nothing new to her though, oft were the times when she wondered exactly where she belonged. The halfling had yet to receive an answer to that question.

In the central area of this tan sea of flowing material was one larger than all the others. No more majestic, no more grand, only larger and guarded on either side of the door by two warriors wearing simple armour and weapons. Leather armour with steel studs that covered their chests, forearms and shins and strapped around their hips were belts holding a sword the type of which she wasn’t entirely sure. She also knew there was a dagger in each of their right boots due to the way the material looked. As Witchblade approached, neither of them moved to stop her, their eyes barely glancing over her, though the younger of the two seemed nervous of her. He should feel nervous around her. Just because she was in the same clan didn’t mean she wouldn’t kill him if he so much as breathed on her the wrong way.

Witch pushed the heavy tent flaps aside, her eyes immediately adjusting to the dim light inside. She moved towards the centre of the tent, glancing around and taking in all she could in a simple sweep. There were two dividing curtains keeping her from seeing other areas of the tent, most likely private sleeping and wash areas. Set in the centre was a large wooden table made with haste. The planks not entirely even or smooth looking, but still serving the purpose it was built for. On top of it was a detailed map of the area and half a dozen candles. Leaning over the table was one Sorahn un’ Rohanhmeh, the current and new leader of The Gol’bron. He was a little insecure about his capabilities, but she saw potential in him. And he wasn’t human. The halfling had a hard enough time following orders as it was, but when they came from a human it was even worse.

“Sorahn.”

He stood straight and looked across the room to her, something rather regal about his bearing to her. Perhaps it was the way he carried himself as a warrior or just the way he looked. Whether it was the myriad of black tattoos covering his white fur, the long muzzle that was more animal than man or the bent back ears and the horns that flowed overtop them, she didn’t know. He just looked regal to her. It probably didn’t help that she was an extremely curious creature by nature—something she did her best to hide—and his race intrigued her. She’d just never had the chance to ask him about it.

There were no bows when he looked at her and no show of dominance and submission. There was just one simple gesture to show a small amount of respect she rarely gave to anyone. Reaching up, the halfling pushed back her hood from her face, allowing the candle light to reveal her deathly pale skin, crimson eyes and her most notable feature, the strings that held her mouth shut. Most people paused when they saw them; usually glancing twice to confirm their eyes had not deceived them. Sorahn did not. He never had and she appreciated that from him. She knew what her face looked like, she was just tired of caring and all the times she had tried to remove the enchanted pieces of string had met in failure. So she had merely given up and decided to live with them as they were. After all, it wasn’t like she needed to eat and drink and her telepathy allowed her to communicate without the need to actually speak.

“Ahh, yes, Witchblade.” His voice floated into the silence of the room, filling it.

He skirted the table, walking a little closer to her as he eyes searched over her body, taking in her slightly ruffled appearance. Though ruffled was a nice way of putting it. Her pants, shirt and cloak were covered in a grey dust that she just could not seem to get off no matter how many times she rubbed at it. And even though the wounds had healed and she had visited a stream to clean the blood from her, there was little she could do about the rips in her pants and shirt. She would just have to get some woman to sow it later for her. Surprisingly though, he didn’t ask about how she looked.

“How did the patrol go?”

For a moment her mind blanked. Patrol? She couldn’t remember going on a patrol, all she remembered was that strange vision.

“Do you remember… what time I left?”

He silently regarded her for a few seconds before answering. “I believe it was late morning.”

Outwardly her expression didn’t change, or at least she hoped it didn’t. Inwardly she practically snarled. The sun had been dropping towards the horizon when she’d returned. That was a lot of time to have no recollection of what she’d been doing. Not to mention if her mind had been elsewhere, what exactly had her been body been doing? She’d been walking when she came back too, which means it not been idly lying somewhere just waiting for her to command it. No, it had been up and moving under the guidance of someone or something other than herself.

[Witchblade]

“Is something wrong?”

His voice broke the silence and her thoughts at the same time, making her realize she had been starring at empty space for a little while now without saying anything.

She turned her eyes away from him, “No.”

Moving passed him; the halfling reached the large rectangular table and rested her hip against it. As her eyes scanned the mostly confusing shapes, colours and words as she began remembering pieces of their conversation from this morning. He’d asked her to patrol a large area of Concordia to the South West of the camp. She couldn’t recall anything of the patrol until she’d nearly killed herself by falling off a cliff. Good thing she knew Concordia very well.

She pointed to a section of the map she knew and used it as a reference. “There’s a large river that runs through this section of the forest, eventually breaking off into a waterfall. The water is deep and there are plenty of fish.” From there she traced her finger to the right and down a little, “This is a relatively large valley that’s quite fertile and would be good for farming and you won’t have to cut down a lot of trees. There are some ruins in this direction,” She moved her finger down and to the left, “There isn’t much left of them though and they’re rather infested with monsters. They’re a nuisance more than anything, I doubt we could use them for much of anything. Probably best to just leave them alone.”

Witch didn’t really know what else she could tell him about this section of Concordia. “Oh, this area over here is Centaur territory, best to leave it alone. They can be extremely territorial and don’t like strangers.”

He nodded his head as she outlined everything for him, “I see…tomorrow I’ll have you scout another area.”

“I can accomplish that now…”

“No, it’s late and will be night soon. Rest and come see me tomorrow morning.”

Her eyes narrowed. She resented the fact that he thought she needed rest. She was not some pathetic weak human. “I work better at night and I don’t need rest.” She practically snarled the words through her telepathic link to him.

It seemed to surprise him slightly. She noticed the signs in Sorahn’s eyes as they widened and his body language turned defensive. It would have been humorous to her if she wasn’t slightly irritated at the fact that he thought she needed to recover and sleep for the night. She preferred the night to the day. Then she could roam the forest with all the other predators, all the things that were just like her. Not to mention the bright light of the sun hurt her sensitive eyes. And what the fuck did he expect her to do tonight, sit around on her ass in absolute boredom?

“You will go tomorrow, Witchblade.” He said resolutely as he tensed his body slightly and squared his shoulders. At least he was becoming more like a leader, but that didn’t necessarily make her happy, especially considering he was not seeing things her way.

Turning her back on him, Witch was nearly out of the tent when his words stopped her for a moment. “Everyone needs rest, Witch. Even you.” Her only response was a deep-throated growl as she passed through the tent flaps and into the waning light of day. The surprised guards stood straight and quiet and little uncomfortably as she practically stormed past them.

She was angry, plain and simple. What Sorahn had said to her had made her feel like nothing more than the useless humans that filled this place. And right now she hated him for it. She hated him, she hated this place and she hated the people in it. She didn’t even know why she was truly here. Just because some humans under the guidance of some false Gods were sent to fetch her does not mean she should stay.

Every person that she passed stepped out of her way. Their faces worried, their steps quickened and their eyes slightly wide. It probably didn’t help that her hood was down and she looked like she’d kill anyone that so much as breathed on her. She needed a release, a way for her to expel this from her system without actually killing anyone. With that thought in mind, Witch turned and headed towards the training grounds.

[Witchblade]

The training grounds were on the outskirts of the Gol’Bron’s current location, just a short walk through the thick trees of Concordia forest. Witch had never been there to train before, but on many nights when she wandered the area she had come upon it. Whereas before warriors had to cut their own way through the foliage and the thick growing undergrowth, there was now a clear path marked by many feet that easily led any in the right direction. The hard and worn soles of her boots crunched down on dirt and rock as her arms pushed back branches that reached out to snag her clothing. Through the thick canopy of trees above her, the halfling could barely make out the sky and the pastel colours it was bathed in. The sun was setting, she could feel it, and soon this area would be bathed in darkness. Already the shadows in the forest were lengthening and covering the forest floor.

Before she even reached the training grounds, the sounds of construction left her ears, replaced by the songs of crickets as they called out to one another. The summer season was coming to an end, a fact easily shown by the presence of fireflies. They wove through the trees in small numbers but she knew that as the darkness grew there would be more of them. Their blinking lights were the earthbound version of a star, one that mesmerized Daegun as he always chased after them. In fact if he wasn’t back within the confines of her rucksack, most likely curled up and sleeping, she was sure he’d be running after them right now.

The peaceful surroundings helped ease that tense feeling in her muscles and her mounted frustrations. But it wasn’t enough. She still wanted to rip through something with her bare hands and leaving it bleeding and begging at her feet. Being around so many humans for such a long period of time was only adding to the edge within her. Soon Witch was going to have to leave the Gol’Bron if only to just get away from it. Perhaps, she should find herself a mission to accomplish for the Clan, or maybe she should consider leaving it altogether. It wasn’t like she was doing the Clan any good. It wasn’t like it was even doing anything right now anyway.
Sighing, the halfling pushed aside her musing for now. She would think about things like this later, when her mind and body were a bit more stable.

As she left her thoughts, the trees around her cut away sharply, leaving Witchblade standing at the edge of a field bathed in the light of the dying sun. Long grass had once grown in abundance here, but now it was stamped flat. It was a rather large area filled with a variety of equipment from hanging logs, to men stuffed with straw and covered in the wounds of what she guessed to be many swords. There were targets for archers and open areas to practice hand to hand combat. With the impending night, there were only four men currently using the last bit of light to get in more training. The approaching darkness mattered little to her as her eyes would only adjust allowing her to see as clear as day. Two of the humans were off to the side engaging in a sword fight. The older looking man actually had some grace and experience in the fluid motions of his attacks. He also seemed to be going easy on the younger man with a cocky smile and blonde hair. Two others were practicing their archery on quickly made targets. Planks of wood painted with different coloured circles, red appearing to be the desired point of attack.

All four of them were dressed in standard red tunics, black pants and a metal studded vest meant to give them some kind of protection. They also had on leather armguards, gloves and boots. Thankfully they were not using the entire area for their own means. Wishing to be left alone, the halfling moved towards a deserted section of the field where five massive tree trunks were hanging from a few large trees. They were supported by multiple ropes and covered in dents and chips.

A few of the soldiers glanced her way with a bit of interest, but she paid them no mind. As much as she wanted a real moving target, killing Sorahn’s men would probably be looked down upon and Witch was unsure if she could properly control herself right now.

“What’s wrong, don’t wanna train with us?”

Her eyes turned to the yell just in time to see the young blonde man knocked to the ground by his trainer with a quick sweep of his feet. Smirking, she didn’t answer him. He should learn to pay attention to what was going on around him. Witch dropped her rucksack on the ground, careful not to wake the sleeping bundle within. Feeling like giving The Rot Slayer a chance instead of her melee weapons, the halfling reached up and undid the clasp of her cloak. The worn black material slithered down her body before pooling at her feet, revealing the multitude of weapons she kept on her person, including the massive sword strapped to her back with a simple harness. It was easily taller than her and strapped to her back in such a way that the long hilt protruded high behind her head, leaving little more than a few inches of space between the tip and the ground. Glancing back towards the humans, she noted their slightly stunned expressions with a small amount of pleasure.

One of the archers was clearly not impressed though. He only smiled, stretching the long scar on his jaw as his bright green eyes looked from the sword to her. “Nice decoration, what’s it made out of, Aluminium?”

Pulling on the buckle of the harness and releasing it, the halfling felt five hundred pounds of weight suddenly slip from her body and embed itself roughly a foot and a half into the soft soil at her feet.

“You’re welcome to check yourself, but you’ll have to get by me first.”

Oh great, now she’d done it. So much for her not taking her anger out on other people. But he brought it on himself; they should have just left her alone. Maybe with there being so many of them though, this would actually be an interesting fight.

[Witchblade]

Their faces twisted and turned into cocky grins that spread from ear and ear, leaving all but one glancing at her as if she were the easiest mark upon the face of Althanas. The only one who actually attempted to assess her was the older human, the one who looked like he had some real experience beneath him. His eyes trailed along her person, taking in every weapon that she carried upon her body and perhaps even how she carried herself. In the end, he may prove to be the most fun out of all of them, while the others were just going to be a warm up. That was fine with her; she loved it when people underestimated her simply by her looks, especially humans. Thinking of the way their eyes would widen in surprise and disbelief when they witnessed just what she was capable of was enough to send tiny shivers crawling along her skin. It would be enough to appease the fact that she couldn’t actually kill any of them. Shock could sometimes be an emotion just as enjoyable as someone struggling within your grip as the last of their life fled from their body.

Her weapons were discarded. Though she didn’t remove them from her person, she did not reach for them. Wordlessly this had turned into a brawl and though to any eyes watching she appeared to be outnumbered, five on one would be far more interesting to her. Perhaps they would give her some kind of challenge; after all, her brawling skills were a little rusty. She usually preferred to mix both hand-to-hand combat in with her weapons, creating an odd style of fist, feet and steel. Not to mention weapons killed people much faster and there was less of a chance someone would touch her. Whereas with brawling it was inevitable, but to her relief, she had noticed before that all of them were wearing brown leather gloves.

The first one to make a move charged at her. It was the blonde boy who had abandoned his sword for the moment and instead balled his hands into tight fists. Dark blue eyes watched her as he crossed the short distance in only a few seconds, giving her plenty of time to read the muscles along his body and decipher his exact move. He was on the quick side, but he didn’t appear to know what he was doing and there was no technique in his moves. He was no better than a street kid throwing punches blindly around him and trying to connect with someone’s jaw. He brought his right arm back and then sung powerfully towards her face, his balled up fist sailing through the air towards her unprotected cheek. It wasn’t even a feint either; there was too much strength behind it for him to stop the attack fluidly. No, he was actually expecting his first attack to connect. Most first attacks never did.

Witchblade stepped to the right and watched as the tight ball of flesh, muscle and bone sailed harmlessly by her face. His eyes had just enough time to widen before she was on him in her counter. With honed reflexes she lashed out and wrapped her fingers around his wrist. Normally she would squeeze with enough pressure to break the bone, this time she only applied enough force to bruise. Then she turned her body around, moving his arm with her as she turned so her back was pressing up against his front and his right arm was over her right shoulder. Tugging on it, she shoved her shoulder under his armpit, then pulled sharply and leaned forward, using her strength and the angle to toss him easily over her back and onto the ground with a loud thud. Air rushed from his lungs in one great expulsion as he looked up at her slightly dazed.

She didn’t have time to enjoy her easy victory over him; just as she was standing straight the sound of boots on the trodden grass caught her ears. Witch turned around and caught the sight of two figures approaching her. They gave her no time to react, the one already sweeping at her legs with his foot. She took the hit, having barely any choice in the matter anyway. His foot connected with her right knee, hooking around the back of it and yanking out harshly. The world around her spun for a moment, brown and green suddenly becoming a blur with the darkening sky as she lost her balance and her back slammed against the hard packed dirt. Air rushed from her lungs and through the strings of her slightly parted lips as the impact forced it from her body.

“You certainly know how to sweep a woman off her feet, Killian.”

“You should be focusing on the battle rather than the words of your friend, Killian.” The halfling growled the words into his mind.

Without standing up she lashed out at his own legs, knocking him from his feet just as he had done to her. Rolling into a crouching position she pounced on his downed form, her knees pressing into the ground beside his hips as she reached behind her and pulled out one of her twin daggers. As the blade flashed in the dying light of the sun she could see a look of fear pass through his eyes. She pressed it against his throat and then smirked.

“Dead.”

Thrusting the blade into the earth beside his head, she stood and turned to the four others.

[Witchblade]

They fought well as a group instead of hanging back and letting one person attack. It was a sloppy kind of coordination that worked rather well for them and allowed more than two to attack her at once. The moment she was back on her feet she was dodging blows. The blonde boy apparently hadn’t had enough as he threw a low punch at her stomach. She twisted her body to the side and allowed the attack to pass by her hip unhindered. As she prepared to elbow him in the chest, the palm of someone’s hand slammed into the side of her arm, jarring it and sending her attack off course.

Turning her head to the side, she found the blonde boy’s trainer standing just a foot away from her and grinning from ear to ear.

“Adrian, at your service.” He said as he inclined his head slightly.

His voice bordered on mocking, the kind that lay somewhere around a jest. The kind that made her want to wipe the smug look of satisfaction off his face. So he’d got her when her back was turned and she was focused on someone else. Big deal, anyone could come to the rescue, but whether or not they could handle the fight was a different story.

Adrian had appeared more than capable when he was fighting the boy, but she was far more skilled than him. She had fought so many times she had lost count, and quite possibly—and easily—more than half of those were merely to enjoy the feel of ending someone’s life. He looked like he’d only been using that sword of his for a few months now, which gauging by his look of youth he probably had been. Most young humans were cocky like he was, thinking they could take on the entirety of Althanas and come out unscathed or at least still breathing. But she had seen men like him fall because of that and yet she had seen others triumph just as easily.

When he made a quick move towards her that went nowhere beyond the first step, the halfling remained where she stood. Her lack of reaction only seemed to please him more and Witch knew that a novice would have tensed or possibly even stepped back to avoid the incoming attack that they were expecting. She had merely kept her ground, knowing that her reflexes and her speed were far greater than his, she had just yet to truly show them that. Of course, if she had been using her full strength and speed this battle would have been over minutes ago. Then she wouldn’t be enjoying herself as she was now.

Shifting her feet in the grass, the halfling began a slow circle around the human as if she were stalking him like prey, which he was in her mind now. He moved with her, keeping his steps in time with hers so that she could never truly see his back. Surprisingly, while they were sizing each other up, the others never attacked. They kept themselves a few feet from the fight, seemingly content to just watch instead of participate. Perhaps they were so sure that he would win they saw no need in helping him, or maybe they were just more interested in watching than joining at this point in time.

Finally he made a move on her. His legs tensed and he sprang towards her, pulling his fist back to his side before sending it flying towards her unprotected stomach. She caught his hand in hers, his large fist just fitting within her long, thin fingers as she wrapped them around his leather clad hand and used her strength to stop his momentum completely. Surprise danced in his stormy grey eyes for a brief second until it was replaced by a look of excitement. As she switched into the same manoeuvre she had done with the blonde boy, Adrian reacted quickly and once her back was turned kicked out at the back of one of her knees. Rather than fight to regain her balance, she went with it and threw her body into a summersault.

The landing on her back was less than comfortable as her shoulder blades slammed into the dirt and grass. But it worked, and that was all that mattered. Witchblade came to a standing position with her back to Adrian, which she quickly rectified by spinning on the toes of her boots. He was already attacking her once more, bending his body back a little and allowing for a quick kick towards her side. She tensed all the muscles along her stomach and allowed the top part of his boot to slam into the curve of her side. Then she quickly wrapped her arm around it and trapped it there. With her free hand, she pressed it against his knee and began pushing downward.

That smug smile certainly disappeared fast as he realized she was going to break his knee, instead it was replaced with worry, but not panic like most people would. Either way she got what she wanted from him, which in turn made her smile and pull at the strings holding her lips closed.

Without warning, something slammed into the side of her, knocking the halfling right off her feet and sending her to the ground. Her shoulder and the side of her head slammed into the hard packed soil as she landed rather harshly and a weight began to press down against her. She’d been forced to let go of Adrian at some point during the fall too. Moaning slightly from a foggy head, she opened her eyes and looked up to find Killian pinning her to the ground and enjoying his position atop her far more than he should.

“I thought I already killed you…” She said, grinning.

He paused as if pondering her statement. “No…nope. Still breathing.”

“I’ll have to rectify that.”

With him pressing her against the ground, she couldn’t reach her dagger but she could certainly feel it digging into the small of her back. The handle was rather roughly shoved up against her spine and the pain from that was far worse than her head smashing against the dirt. Instead of trying for it, she stretched her hand out seemingly at nothing, only to have the dagger she’d embedded into the earth beside Killian’s head pull itself from the ground. As if held by an unseen hand, it flew through the air before coming to rest in her grip. Once she closed her fingers around the familiar worn leather of the handle, she raised it and pressed it to his throat.

“Hey, I thought we weren’t using weapons…” His voice came out in a bit of a whine as the cold steel pressed into his skin, threatening to slice right through it.

“Who said that?”

“Well in that case…”

[Witchblade]

Witchblade quickly tore her eyes from Killian at the sound of another voice and ringing metal filling the air. Her gaze came to rest on the archer, the one with the long scar across his jaw. He was quickly approaching her with determined strides and a short broadsword held in his left hand. When he raised the sword as if preparing to strike her downed form, she shoved her knee into Killian’s gut and threw him off to the side and away from her. With no weight pressing against her, she rolled to her left and quickly came to her feet.

“Trey, Adrian said no weapons!”

It was the blonde boy that complained, but Witch paid him no mind. Instead she only reached behind her and removed the other dagger from its sheath.

“Shut yer yap, Jacob. I don’t have to listen to Adrian and I don’t hear the little missy complaining.”

She wasn’t complaining. He’d just made the game far more appealing. Whereas she had only been using her weapons for fun, he appeared to be playing for real. “Feeling a little over confident with a sword in your hand, are we?”

“I think it’s you that over confident.”

His face quickly turned hard as he began concentrating on the battle. Witch on the other hand seemed neither to mind nor care about the weapon in his hand. Her body was relaxed, though ready for whatever he threw at her. His weapon may be longer than hers, but his attacks would be more constrictive because of it and he wouldn’t be able to counter as easily. She knew that when she got close enough, his sword would become a useless burden and she doubted he had the skills to keep her at bay for long.

He stepped towards her and brought his blade in a wide ark from hip to shoulder that was meant to cleanly cut her apart and spill her guts upon the grass. Instead of dodging or using her base strength to stop the blow, she collided her left dagger with the side of his sword and sent it flying off to her left and away from her body, but Trey was better with the blade than she thought. He quickly recovered the uncontrolled movement with a snap of his wrist. Then he turned the blade around and went straight for her right thigh.

Witch blocked it with her other dagger, allowing the blade of the sword to slide down hers in a screech of metal on metal until it hit the guard and went no further. He’d just made a big mistake, a fatal flaw if this had been a real fight. With her other hand she brought her dagger up to his neck.

“And this is where you’d die.” She said with a satisfied smirk.

His skills weren’t bad, but he needed keep at least part of his mind focused on his opponent’s weapons and movements, instead of just blindly attacking and hoping that something would hit. It could work for a little while, but once he met someone more skilled than him, he’d lose.

Noting the flush of anger colouring his cheeks, the halfling removed her dagger from his throat and took a step back. Pushing his sword away from her body, she turned her back on him and sheathed both her two daggers. The others appeared to release breaths they hadn’t realized they were holding, their faces relieved that the entire fight was over, not to mention slightly pleased with the outcome. Perhaps Trey was a bit of a hothead that needed to learn his place. If he was, she doubted she’d done anything more than merely piss him off. He was probably wishing a thousand deaths upon her this very moment and picturing each one within the confines of his imagination. It might be interesting for her to take a peek into his mind and see them, but she opted against it.

Then the look on Jacob’s face suddenly twisted, “Trey don’t!”

The halfling turned around just in time to see steel flash in the fading light. It cut across her jaw, right below her ear, and then sliced right through her cheek. Warm blood spilled down her face, staining it a dark blue colour. The sword had cut right through the thin later of flesh and muscle that comprised of her cheek and left a clean cut, slightly open to reveal teeth and gum. Hearing the sound of approaching steps from behind her, Witch raised her head and pinned Trey in place with a look so cold and void of emotion his entire demeanour seemed to shift to fear. His wide eyes kept themselves firmly locked on the wound that she could feel closing and repairing itself.

Just as she felt the presence of the others directly behind her, Witchblade tensed the muscles in her legs and pushed herself off the ground. She used her speed to cross the two feet between her and Trey in less than a second, her body becoming nothing more than a dark blur that disappeared from their eyes until she stopped in front of him. All she wanted to do was wrap her fingers around his neck and squeeze until his face turned purple and blue and his eyes nearly bulged from their sockets, leaving him as a lifeless sack of flesh in her hands.

“Never allow your emotions to get the best of you!” She growled into his mind and his mind alone. “There will always be someone with more skill than you, that’s life, get used to it. If you weren’t a member of the Gol’Bron I’d rip your throat out for such a move, so count yourself lucky.”

His face had gone pale and the sword clenched in his hand trembled slightly. Bringing up her right hand, she wiped the blood from her face, revealing flawless, pale skin.

“Trey, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Backing away from him, Witch wiped her hand on her pants and turned around to see two worried expressions and one very pissed off one. That one in particular happened to belong to Adrian, who had most likely shouted that question at Trey. She wasn’t too sure, she couldn’t really tell their voices apart yet. Smoothing over her expression, the halfling tried to settle the situation for some reason. Trey kind of reminded her of herself in a way. She felt like she was preaching to the choir really, because Witch acted on her anger a lot and rashly attacked when she shouldn’t. It was amazing someone hadn’t killed her yet.

“No harm done,” she said to all of them, “He missed.

Adrian seemed less than satisfied with her response and though his eyes searched along the side of her face, she knew he would see nothing but the faint traces of her own blood. The wound was already gone. And the others all appeared quite content to believe Trey’s attacked had passed by her harmlessly.

[Witchblade]

“That was unbelievable!” Jacob suddenly exclaimed into the silence, jarring everyone with his exuberant cry. “One moment you were right there and then bam you were gone and over there! That was so incredible.”

Witch couldn’t help but smile and laugh at him, as the others too chimed in. He just stood there amongst them with this huge smile plastered across his face, looking from her to the others as if not entirely getting the joke they were sharing.

In the short time that they had been brawling, the sun had disappeared behind the mountains and the forest was beginning to grow thick with darkness. The others seemed to have noticed this as well as they began moving around the training grounds, collecting their belongings. Witch too decided it was time to leave. Coming here had indeed been a good idea. She’d released a lot of that built up tension within her, and the fight with Sorahn had been completely forgotten, not to mention she’d had a lot of… fun. Just as she was wrapping her cloak around her shoulders and clasping it closed, she heard someone call out to her. Turning around, Witch watched as the blonde boy Jacob walked up to her.

“Hey umm… We’re heading back for a few drinks and something to eat, we snuck a cask of ale out of the food stores today and well…” he was kind of rambling and Witch got the distinct feeling he was nervous for some reason. “The others and I were wondering if you’d like to join us.”

The offer took her aback and for a few seconds the halfling found herself without words. They wanted her to join them? As in talk and whatever the hell else humans did when they partook in each other’s company. Her immediate response was to say no and just spend the night within the confines of the forest like she always did, but when she went to tell him, she found the words dying somewhere before they reached her telepathic link.

“I…”

“You won’t regret it, I promise.” He said with a smile when he saw her wavering.

“Okay…sure.” She finally said, more than a little reluctantly.

He smiled, but before he turned away, she caught him eyeing The Rot Slayer again, the sword that had started this entire exchange. Funny, if she’d decided to ignore him and his taunts then things would probably have turned out much different. But she hadn’t been in the mood to listen to him and his friends pretend to be something they weren’t, not to mention it had felt good to flaunt her skills. In all honestly though, she could have surprised them with quite a few other things.

Smirking, the halfling folded her arms under her chest, “If you can pull that sword from the ground I’ll let you keep it.”

His face took on that smug expression again, the one that he had originally worn when he’d seen the massive weapon. Stepping off to the side, she allowed him to approach the slightly dull and worn blade. She had no idea what was going through his head, but even if that blade were only made of steel and not Titanium, it would still weigh roughly three hundred pounds. Feeling someone to her left, she turned her head to find Trey standing beside her. Silently they watched as blondie wrapped his hands around the handle, took a deep breath and pulled. The sword didn’t budge so much as an inch.

“Is he actually going to be able to lift that sword?”

“No.” She replied without taking her eyes off the young human’s struggling form.

“What’s it made out of?”

“Titanium.”

He balked, “How much does it weigh!?”

Jacob gave up on his sixth pull, his face flush with the blood rushing to it and a small amount of perspiration dotting his forehead. “Holy crap, how much does that weigh?”

“Five hundred pounds.”

Smirking at the stunned expressions on their faces, Witch walked over and wrapped her fingers around the handle. With a single, quick and powerful pull, she removed the sword from the ground with one hand. Swinging it around and placing it on her back, she used her telekinesis to bring the straps around and tie them, holding the sword firmly in place.

“What are you…?” Jacob whispered, her sensitive ears powerful enough to pick it up.

“Better not to know…”

An awkward silence followed her statement as the two of them looked from one another to her, unsure of what to do next. She felt a little uncomfortable as well, but telling humans that she was some kind of vampire half-breed usually didn’t go over too well. Actually, it didn’t go over with almost any kind of race, even other vampires. She personally didn’t care what people thought of her, but they were members of the clan she was now a part of and she’d rather not have them look upon her with fear unless she wanted them to.

“Ahh… well, I’m Jacob.” The blonde boy held out his hand to her.

Hesitantly she clasped her fingers around his wrist and shook it, uncomfortable with the contact even if there were two layers of leather between their skin. She’d already caught his name from Trey during the fight too, but she supposed that didn’t matter. She’d seen humans formally introduce themselves like this many times.

“Witchblade.”

“You’re Witchblade!?” he practically shouted. Jacob got excited way too easily for her liking. It did make her laugh at his enthusiasm though. It was almost contagious. “I stood toe to toe with Witchblade, lived and I convinced her to drink with us tonight! Whoo-hoo!”

Feeling her face flush with a bit of embarrassment, the halfling released Jacob’s hand and merely chuckled lightly to herself. She wasn’t very good with small talk and so found herself not exactly knowing what to say next. As he slowly calmed down from this, the others came over and introduced themselves one by one.

“I always thought you’d be…” Trey trailed off as he seemed to grow a bit embarrassed.

Before she could retort with something, Jacob interrupted her. “I heard that you were a troll with five heads, four arms, the tail of a serpent and you could breathe fire from your nose!”

She burst out laughing, the motion pulling on the strings that tied her mouth shut. Oddly enough, none of the humans seemed to have minded her slightly disfigured face, nor had any of them asked her about it.
“I can shape shift.” She replied when she’d recovered from the outburst. She couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed like that.

“Really?”

“No.”

His face fell a little, but Trey certainly got a kick out of it, as did the others who had heard the exchange. So not only was the blonde boy easily excited, but quite gullible too.

Grabbing her rucksack from the grass, Witch threw it over her shoulders and then followed the others through the forest and back to the camp. Within the trees the darkness was much heavier than in the open field, and the others moved rather slowly because of it, but she found herself barely noticing. Mostly because she was too busy fending off a multitude of questions that Jacob was firing at her.

[Witchblade]

“That was unbelievable!” Jacob suddenly exclaimed into the silence, jarring everyone with his exuberant cry. “One moment you were right there and then bam you were gone and over there! That was so incredible.”

Witch couldn’t help but smile and laugh at him, as the others too chimed in. He just stood there amongst them with this huge smile plastered across his face, looking from her to the others as if not entirely getting the joke they were sharing.

In the short time that they had been brawling, the sun had disappeared behind the mountains and the forest was beginning to grow thick with darkness. The others seemed to have noticed this as well as they began moving around the training grounds, collecting their belongings. Witch too decided it was time to leave. Coming here had indeed been a good idea. She’d released a lot of that built up tension within her, and the fight with Sorahn had been completely forgotten, not to mention she’d had a lot of… fun. Just as she was wrapping her cloak around her shoulders and clasping it closed, she heard someone call out to her. Turning around, Witch watched as the blonde boy Jacob walked up to her.

“Hey umm… We’re heading back for a few drinks and something to eat, we snuck a cask of ale out of the food stores today and well…” he was kind of rambling and Witch got the distinct feeling he was nervous for some reason. “The others and myself were wondering if you’d like to join us?”

The offer took her aback and for a few seconds the halfling found herself without words. They wanted her to join them? As in talk and whatever the hell else humans did when they partook in each other’s company. Her immediate response was to say no and just spend the night within the confines of the forest like she always did, but when she went to tell him, she found the words dying somewhere before they reached her telepathic link.

“I…”

“You won’t regret it, I promise.” He said with a smile when he saw her wavering.

“Okay…sure.” She finally said, more than a little reluctantly.

He smiled, but before he turned away, she caught him eyeing The Rot Slayer again, the sword that had started this entire exchange. Funny, if she’d decided to ignore him and his taunts then things would probably have turned out much different. But she hadn’t been in the mood to listen to him and his friends pretend to be something they weren’t, not to mention it had felt good to flaunt her skills. In all honestly though, she could have surprised them with quite a few other things.

Smirking, the halfling folded her arms under her chest, “If you can pull that sword from the ground I’ll let you keep it.”

His face took on that smug expression again, the one that he had originally worn when he’d seen the massive weapon. Stepping off to the side, she allowed him to approach the slightly dull and worn blade. She had no idea what was going through his head, but even if that blade were only made of steel and not Titanium, it would still weigh roughly three hundred pounds. Feeling someone to her left, she turned her head to find Trey standing beside her. Silently they watched as blondie wrapped his hands around the handle, took a deep breath and pulled. The sword didn’t budge so much as an inch.

“Is he actually going to be able to lift that sword?”

“No.” She replied without taking her eyes off the young human’s struggling form.

“What’s it made out of?”

“Titanium.”

He balked, “How much does it weigh!?”

Jacob gave up on his sixth pull, his face flush with the blood rushing to it and a small amount of perspiration dotting his forehead. “Holy crap, how much does that weigh?”

“Five hundred pounds.”

Smirking at the stunned expressions on their faces, Witch walked over and wrapped her fingers around the handle. With a single quick and powerful pull, she removed the sword from the ground with one hand. Swinging it around and placing it on her back, she used her telekinesis to bring the straps around and tie them, holding the sword firmly in place.

“What are you…?” Jacob whispered, her sensitive ears powerful enough to pick it up.

“Better not to know…”

An awkward silence followed her statement as the two of them looked from one another to her, unsure of what to do next. She felt a little uncomfortable as well, but telling humans that she was some kind of vampire half-breed usually didn’t go over too well. Actually, it didn’t go over with almost any kind of race, even other vampires. She personally didn’t care what people thought of her, but they were members of the clan she was now a part of and she’d rather not have them look upon her with fear unless she wanted them to.

“Ahh… well, I’m Jacob.” The blonde boy held out his hand to her.

Hesitantly she clasped her fingers around his wrist and shook it, uncomfortable with the contact even if there were two layers of leather between their skin. She’d already caught his name from Trey during the fight too, but she supposed that didn’t matter. She’d seen humans formally introduce themselves like this many times.

“Witchblade.”

“You’re Witchblade!?” he practically shouted. Jacob got excited way too easily for her liking. It did make her laugh at his enthusiasm though. It was almost contagious. “I stood toe to toe with Witchblade, lived and I convinced her to drink with us tonight! Whoo-hoo!”

Feeling her face flush with a bit of embarrassment, the halfling released Jacob’s hand and merely chuckled lightly to herself. She wasn’t very good with small talk and so found herself not exactly knowing what to say next. As he slowly calmed down from this, the others came over and introduced themselves one by one.

“I always thought you’d be…” Trey trailed off as he seemed to grow a bit embarrassed.

Before she could retort with something, Jacob interrupted her. “I heard that you were a troll with five heads, four arms, the tail of a serpent and you could breathe fire from your nose!”

She burst out laughing, the motion pulling on the strings that tied her mouth shut. Oddly enough, none of the humans seemed to have minded her slightly disfigured face, nor had any of them asked her about it.

“I can shape shift.” She replied when she’d recovered from the outburst. She couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed like that.

“Really?”

“No.”

His face fell a little, but Trey certainly got a kick out of it, as did the others who had heard the exchange. So not only was the blonde boy easily excited, but quite gullible too.

Grabbing her rucksack from the grass, Witch threw it over her shoulders and then followed the others through the forest and back to the camp. Within the trees the darkness was much heavier than in the open field, and the others moved rather slowly because of it, but she found herself barely noticing. Mostly because she was too busy fending off a multitude of questions that Jacob was firing at her.