Red leather bandanas. Apparently, this was what Anisse’s missions were belittled to. It earned her enough wages to live off however, so this collecting was necessary. Completing these small favors also earned her some favor in return, which was sorely needed to get suspicious eyes off of her. The woman did spend too much time in the crypts beneath the Slaughtered Lamb, tending to her wooden garden of jars.
Very empty jars.
Anisse walked along with a heavy heart, drifting through the backwoods of Elwynn Forest. Her jars sat in that cold, stone room, with nothing to warm them. She relied on the collected succubus heart to do just that, actually, as she couldn’t figure out what in the Nether should actually be put into them. Luring random people into the Slaughtered Lamb’s basement seemed to be dangerous business, as many others used it. Being walked in on while she was eviscerating a corpse was not a plan of hers, and asking the bartender to attach a closing time to the Lamb might be something like asking the man to cut off his own arm for her sake.
After the messy business with the gnome captive, the Lamb seemed off-limits as a “work site”.
Flicking her fingers as she walked, she practiced summoning the magical fire to her fingertips again and again, watching the orange flames line her gloves. The fire burnt through the cotton little by little, tearing through the threads the longer she left it burning. It was an interesting spell, but she’d been careful learning too much at once. She wished to give special interest to each spell individually, learning its ins and outs before moving on to something new. At this rate, it may take a while for her to learn to summon her first demon, she knew. She spread the flames to her other set of fingers and smiled at the display. Somehow, the cultist felt she could do without a demon for a while longer…
A sharp pain suddenly hit Anisse in her right forearm, making her gasp. She peered down at her arm, which now sported a lengthy tear down the sleeve, the edge of sharp metal having gashed her arm. Pain! She gasped aloud and grasped her arm, the sick-sweet sting of pain something rather sacred for one who felt little. Turning fully around, she was met with a hard knock on the head, cracking her nose, while a harsh kick drew the air out from her lungs, and sent her backward, falling. Her eyes squeezed shut as more glorious pain raced down the bridge of her nose, feeling herself land upon the moist grass, her cowl sliding back off of her head. When her vision cleared, she found the bandit leering over her threateningly, his dagger weaving in his hand. His dark eyes squinted, scheming behind the red mask.
Where the Nether did he come from?
Coughing, Anisse looked up at her assailant. He was most assuredly used to begging, fear, or retaliation. From the blinking, she assumed he wasn’t used to seeing a victim smile. Did he not know the glory of pain? Quite frankly, he’d surprised her with the assault. The confusion was short-lived as the bandit’s eyes squinted again, angered by the woman’s smirk.
“I’ll cleave that smile from your face!” he snarled, and dove down upon her. The dagger plunged into Anisse’s belly, making her cry out with the intense wave of pain. Panting, Anisse was set upon the murderous bandit, who was now searching through her robes for valuables as she bled to death.
Was this how it was to end? Vandalized, perhaps violated by the bandit, by the look in his eyes, as she drew her last breath? Something about his invading eyes rubbed her the wrong way, and despite the pain burning in her insides, the woman obeyed the urge to rebuke him, and fight. The slender fingers emerged from her burnt away gloves to clutch to the bandit’s face, covering his eyes, nose and mouth. Before he could strike again with the dagger, her hand erupted in fire as it clutched to his face.
The scream that followed brought that wayward smile back to Anisse’s lips.
She could smell his burning flesh as his face burnt to the color of flaked charcoal, the fel magic having intensified the spell’s effect in increments. Falling upon the ground, his face smoked as he rolled, leaving the assailant blind and scarred. Ah, how he wept. Bits of red cloth were permanently seared into his face as well, and this sent a wave of pride through Anisse, making the pain of her own wound lessen. The spell had worked beautifully.
It could be her last breath spent admiring her work, after all.
Anisse closed her eyes, listening to the whimpering of her companion. There was no pain now, but his. Her breath began to halt, surely she was a mess by now, blood everywhere, her life feeding the grass. Then came the tingling sensation of…something? She opened her eyes to find a woman dressed in white, trimmed in violet. A light glow was around the healer’s hands, and it took only a mere flick of the mysterious fingers before she began to feel the wounds close.
“You may rise. You are safe.”
The woman had a deep, intense voice, her eyes the color of moonlight dancing upon water. Long ears swayed back from her head, leaving a crown of long, violet hair to fall down her back and shoulders. Even her very skin was a dusky violet. Anisse had seen such a creature before, some as old as the land itself. What things might they have seen in their long lives? She watched as the night elf bent to lower a hand, and it was taken silently, the cowl put back into place over her head.
“I am…much obliged.”
“Elune be with you,” was the simple and quick response. At once, the elf was engulfed in shadows, the aura lining her slender body. It startled Anisse at first, and then she couldn’t help but watch the female walk off on her own, following the pathway back to the city. What a small, strange encounter. She wondered, why in the depths of her heart, the elf had chosen to save her. There was a gratitude that filled Anisse, and even a soft spot for the one who would be her savior, the silent, tall one.
As the cowled woman turned her eyes upon the scarred bandit who had attacked her, what softness she felt went hard, and cold as ice. The man could hear her footfalls, hear the sound of the grass crushing under her approach. He shivered upon the ground, his head tossing all around, seeing nothing with his eyeballs seared to his sockets. A whimper sounded from him as he heard next the shift of the folds of a robe.
“You have something I want.”
The soft breath of words against his ear was replaced by the sound of his own blood-curdling scream.
None would come to help him now.
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