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Fable : Fall of the Guild	By : Samson Category: +A through F > Fable Views: 8222 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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The Witchspotter Trap.
Fable : Fall of the Guild

Part VIII - "Witch-hunt"

By: Jesse Racine AKA Samson

Original Date Written: August 6, 2012

Three months passed...
Timoteo and Bianca heard little from Grizelda. Every now and then, they would find a letter slipped under the front door of their home. Grizelda’s handwriting was neat and small, curvy and sophisticated, adding a sense of calm to the dire news she usually had for them. The Witchspotters, she would often warn them, had come to Darkwood in force, and were scouring the region for her. Between watching the Chasm of Blood and trying to keep the Witchspotters’ attention placed on herself and away from them, she said she never had time for a casual visit. She routinely reminded the two not to stray far from their home, and for Bianca to keep her eyes out in the trees, to keep little feathered scouts on watch. If the Witchspotters found Bianca, they wouldn’t discriminate between her and Grizelda, and would capture or attack her just as well. Timoteo, she warned, would be taken as well, as he would be accused of being a thrall serving under Bianca.
Timoteo heard from Gibbons only once during that three month span, Gibbons contacting him to let him know that he still hadn’t received any word from Calvin, but that he couldn’t go to Snowspire to investigate. The Arena, he said, did, in fact, have a very heavy League presence, and he still believed they had taken it up as their base of operations. They partly received funding, he said, from private executions; people would pay to get into the Arena, and then get to see numerous suspected Heroes or Hero sympathizers die in various ways, usually by firearm fire. He had a partner, he revealed; if Timoteo still felt up to taking the fight to the League, Gibbons wouldn’t argue, but infiltrating the League was something he didn’t have confidence Timoteo could achieve. He said he and his partner would be trying to join up with the League to sabotage it from within, and then he disappeared, Timoteo getting no news from him for weeks on end.
Bianca had been attempting to make more Will Master’s Elixers and Ages of Will potions, but it took her weeks of stealthy foraging just to find the ingredients needed for her first attempt. Even then, her first attempt failed, despite the aid of Grizelda’s personal notes. Bianca didn’t seem discouraged by this, proclaiming she knew what she had done wrong, and that her next attempt would have a better chance of success. Eventually, the nightmares about the fate of Timoteo’s father stopped plaguing him, but he had never forgiven himself for what he eventually believed was fully cowardice on his part. He had stopped thinking about the risks posed with storming the Arena for his father, he had stopped thinking about what his possible death could mean to Bianca, and had begun to believe that he certainly could’ve succeeded if he had tried. Regret made him blind to his own reasoning, and he found himself believing that if he had just been more willing to act, everything could’ve been for the better.
Although Grizelda had said that she thought Octavia would visit the Chasm again rather soon, she spoke little of Octavia in her letters, something that quickly began to get to Bianca, putting her on edge. Timoteo tried to placate her, but Bianca couldn’t deny beginning to feel a little restless, wanting to check the Chasm herself and wait with Grizelda. Timoteo quickly changed her mind away from that course of action, reaffirming that Grizelda would notify her as soon as Bianca’s mother came snooping around again. Continuing to wait for Grizelda to come with news on Octavia, he and Bianca spent their days eating from the land as they waited for their crops to grow, spending time together, and trying not to think about the killers combing through Darkwood for people like them both.
Darrah helped organize recruitment parties, sending them out to villages that had been in, or near, the path of Benedict’s bandit horde. Rather skilfully, the recruiters took advantage of the surviving villagers’ fears of the bandits, offering them the opportunity to fight back against the marauders. When her brother, Craig, returned, he brought Brute and his little sister Anna with him, Darrah pleased to see the fellow Hero in one piece after such a long stretch of time. Craig and Brute had both found a land so unlike Albion that they had scarcely believed it when they saw it. Aurora, it was called, a desert-like country, much hotter and arid than Albion was, even in the summer. Water, Craig had told her, was much harder to find in Aurora. Most of the communities he saw were built by the coast, or were centered around rare pools of desert water that the Aurorans had always called an “oasis”. The Aurorans had been very welcoming to the foreigners, curious about Albion, but unwilling to cross the sea and risk facing the creatures of the deep.
Craig brought numerous items back with him, most of them gifts for his dear little sister: Auroran clothes, alcohol, candies and spices, artwork, and even a bottle of Auroran sand as a sentimental little keepsake. His final gift for her was a gold and silver bracelet, done in such an alien fashion that Darrah was enamoured with it instantly, taking a liking to the Auroran style. The bracelet was shaped quite a bit like a scorpion, though different than the rare few in Albion, sleeker, smoother. Pinching it’s own stinger with it’s claws as it wrapped around her wrist, it had sapphires for eyes, glittering flawlessly under light. The stories he told her about Aurora were the things of fantasies to her, it was an exotic land with a wonderful culture, a land relaxed and at peace. There were Heroes there, he said, but no League. There was nothing like the Guild there, but the Heroes appeared to govern themselves fairly well, all the same.
Some of the feats of construction, he said, would put Albion to shame, Craig recalling more than one giant stone monument dedicated to a revered Auroran figure, taller than several typical Albion homes stacked atop one another. Although Craig had gotten lost at sea before he reached Aurora, he had done his best to chart his course on the way back, planning on returning some day. Darrah begged him to take her with him for the visit, and he readily agreed. Craig personally took part in the training of all new recruits, Darrah and Brute joining in as well, bolstering Alexander’s army for the prepared attack on Benedict’s fortress. Brute had done a considerably good job of nurturing Anna on the trip, but readily handed her over to a nursemaid at Darrah’s estate so she could get a woman’s care, a wet-nurse providing the milk Anna had been needing for certain precious nutrients. By the end of the three months, Alexander’s army had been made three hundred stronger, a vast improvement that made everyone involved all the more confident in victory.
Still, Darrah and Craig both advocated taking more time to train the recruited villagers, not wanting to risk any slim chance of losing the battle simply because their soldiers weren’t prepared for what could be a very nasty confrontation. As such, Alexander gave them another full month to prepare the new soldiers, to train for hours on end every single day, as well as obtain the plans for an explosive device. Darrah, like Timoteo, had not heard from Gibbons in weeks, though he had promised to try and find any blueprints he could for her the last time they had spoken. Darrah waited for news from him, believing that having those plans could mean the difference between a quick and decisive victory, and a long, bloody struggle...
“...Here’s the place.” The man said, pointing up at a building down the dirt path. It was a little wooden shanty, barely capable of being considered a hut, sitting in a tiny clearing. A flowerbed was by the side of the house, numerous colourful flowers, obviously foreign to Witchwood, sprouting out of the dirt. The group numbered three in total, one of them adjusting his black wool coat as he said “It’s puny. Are you sure those reports were accurate?” “I’m sure. There’s supposed to be a bunch of refugees here, sympathizers, mostly. I admit, it doesn’t look like it could hold a dozen people at a time, but those were the reports.” The third member of the group, a woman, said “So, if we can find them, we bring them back to the Arena and keep them in the holding cells?” “That’s right, you’re getting the hang of the idea.” The first man said, approvingly. “Thanks.” The woman proudly said, smiling a little, raising up her hands and adjusting her wide-brimmed black hat.
The trio began approaching the home, one of the men saying “And, if we can’t find anything?” The first man said “Well, it depends. If they show us respect, then we’ll leave. Of course, we’ll check again at another opportunity, hopefully when they’re off-guard. If they’re rude to us, we’ll just have to remind them who saved them from the Guild.” “Heh. Got it.” The second man said, glancing at his female teammate. She raised an eyebrow at him, smiling a little, glancing at the apparent leader. The second man gave a little nod, the both of them looking ahead, then. When they got up to the shack, the lead man raised a hand, giving the crude door a hard knock. The door shook so much at the man’s knocking that the trio began to believe the door would just fall apart, collapse under the force. “We’re from the Anti-Hero League! We need to check your premises for Heroes and Hero sympathizers! Open the door or we’ll break it down!” The lead man loudly warned.
Someone scrambled to open the door, quickly unlocking it from within, pulling it open. An old man stood there, looking at them calmly. His hair was gray, much of it gone, the man balding in wide areas over the top and back of his head. He had a disgusting beard over his face, the hairs sticky from varying food juices, some bits of food even appearing to be stuck in the strands. He was wearing little more than a rag for a shirt, the ratty, hole-ridden garment covered in patches of dirt. His pants were in similar condition, the pantlegs even torn off above the ankle, making them reach the middle of his forelegs. He had no shoes on his feet, leaving his feet exposed to the ground, making them nearly black with dirt. He looked at them with a wide, nervous smile, quickly saying “Well, if it isn’t the League! To what do I owe the pleasure, ehhh?” The lead League investigator stared hard at the old man, saying “We’ve gotten reports that there’s been many individuals coming into this “home,” and the ones that were identified were all suspected Heroes or sympathizers.”
“Lemme guess. You wanna search my house.” The old man said, narrowing an eye, looking at them with an insane gleam in his eyes, his smile intact. “Yes, so if you’ll step outside, my colleagues will watch you while I check your...House.” The man said, his derision of the man’s abode rudely obvious. The old man stepped outside, excitedly saying “Awright, awright, no need to get violent.” The two League trainees crossed their arms over their chests, keeping an eye on the old man as their teacher stepped into the small shack. It didn’t take him long to glance around the shack and conclude that there was honestly nothing of interest, nothing to be suspicious over. The man didn’t even have a floor to his shack, leaving one’s feet open to finding the dirt. The only thing the man had on the floor was a circular rug of somewhat decent size, sitting in the middle of the shack’s one room, close to what must’ve been intended to be a bookshelf, wooden planks and iron nails roughly slapped together to make the piece of furniture.
The man sighed, put his hands to his waist, and stepped deeper into the shack. The reports had been clear, around a dozen people had been seen coming into this shack, and none had been reported being seen leaving, again. How was it possible, though, the shack looked like it’d be cramped for the old man, by himself. The man’s eyes came to the small window set in the back of the shack, the small opening in the wooden wall facing the trees behind the shack. The League investigator stared for a few seconds before approaching the window, wondering if it was possible that the individuals had all slipped out through the opening. As he walked over the rug, his footsteps softened over the fabric, the rug acting like cushion against the hard dirt. After a few steps, he froze in place. His eyes narrowed. He raised his right foot and tapped it down against the rug, testing it curiously. There was one section of the ground under the rug that wasn’t cushioned, it felt even harder than the dirt, more solid, somehow.
He thought he heard a faint sound come from under the rug, almost like...His eyes widened. He quickly stepped off the rug, grabbed it, and pulled it back. He smiled darkly when he saw the small, square-shaped cellar door, very flat and inconspicuous, made of wood. Hidden beneath the rug, he had almost missed it, the old man obviously having quite a bit to hide. The League investigator stuck a finger into a small hole set in one side of the wooden cellar door, pulling it open so fast it nearly slammed into the dirt. As light swam into the opening, he saw the faces of around four individuals, all looking up at him in horrified shock. He smiled wider, his eyes narrowing. “Well, well, well. What have we here?” The League investigator coolly said. One of the individuals down in the cave-like opening held a little girl close, the girl beginning to sob at the realization that the group had been discovered. She hugged the girl’s face into her bosom, as if to protect or comfort her, glaring up at the League investigator.
The man noticed her glare, raising an eyebrow at her, saying “Charlotte. I had wondered when I’d run into you again. Looks like you’ve got nowhere to run this time, though.” “Go ahead and gloat, you bastard.” The woman snapped back. He smirked, reached into his coat, and pulled out a black firearm. Standing back up, he looked towards the doorway, calling out “He’s been hiding them underground, the old fool. We’re taking him in with the rest. He can die along with them.” The investigator looked back to the cave opening, waving his firearm at them, saying “Alright, chuckleheads. Let’s go. Up and out.” The man didn’t turn to look as he heard footsteps come up behind him, his male protege saying “We’re gonna take them all back? How soon do you think they’ll be executed?” “Soon enough. Maybe before the day’s out.” The lead investigator said, grinning wickedly. His subordinate suddenly sounded rather silly as he mockingly said “Maybe they won’t be executed at all, eh, eh?”
The lead investigator’s face went curious before his life ended in the blink of an eye, blood erupting from a wound in his face, his features popping apart as a slug travelled through his head from behind. He collapsed in a heap over the opening in the floor, gasps rising from the people down in the cave opening. “Time’s up, League boy!” The other League investigator condescendingly said, obviously amused with himself. The man pulled the corpse from over the opening before it could slip down inside, Looking down into the opening, he smiled, saying “Hey, come on, let’s get you out of here. It’s not safe for you, obviously. You all need to get going.” One of the men down in the cave system looked up and hesitantly said “Who are you?” The man held a hand out, half-smiling a little as he said “Gibbons, master thief and assassin extraordinaire. And, I’m the guy that just saved you from being executed at the Arena. I suggest we don’t waste any more time. I don’t know where you all intend to go, but you can’t stay here.”
“Gibbons, I’ve got the note ready. Nobody should be the wiser. Hell, we might even get a promotion or a bonus.” The female League investigator said, holding up a piece of paper. “Great. Stick it in his pocket or something, Marilyn.” Gibbons said, glancing back at her. The woman with the child lifted the girl up, holding her out to Gibbons, saying “Help her out, first. She’s scared of enclosed spaces, she’s been dying, down here.” The little girl held her arms out to Gibbons, looking at him desperately and a little untrustingly. He smiled and took her by the hips, hoisting her up out of the opening, setting her down on her feet beside himself. “C’mon, who’s next? We’ve got some work to do to deal with this, we need to get you going as soon as possible...”
Timoteo slowly sat down at the kitchen table, only a few candles lit over the center of the table, illuminating the room with faint white light. Bianca smiled lightly at him, opening the cellar door, beginning to step down the staircase as she said “I’ll be right back, I have a little surprise for you.” He smiled a little, raising his eyebrows somewhat, saying “I can’t wait. You’ve kept me in suspense all day.” “I hope it was worth it.” She warmly said, suppressing a little chuckle. “I’m sure it will be, considering you had a hand in it.” He said, catching a quick over-the-shoulder smile from her in response. He sat in silence and waited as she disappeared for several moments, Timoteo leaning back in his chair, putting one ankle over the other leg’s knee. He noticed her coming before she had gotten to the top of the stairs, as a faint glow led the way, gently heralding her return. He watched her come up from the stairs, holding something up in front of her chest with both hands, the candle-like glow emanating from it.
He looked at it in confusion for several seconds, trying to figure out what it was. It was brown, shaped into a flat circle on a small white plate, a very small, thin candle sticking out of the top. She had a hopeful look in her eyes as she walked over to the table and stood beside him, setting the plate down in front of him. It was a little shiny, the surface of the object looking smooth and slick. “Happy birthday, Timoteo.” She said, her eyes closing a little, a tender little smile growing with her lips. He looked up to her eyes, looking a little surprised as he stated “You remembered.” She nodded a little, resting a hand over his left shoulder, rubbing lightly over his shirt. “I didn’t even remember. With everything else that’s been going on, it just sort of...Lost importance.” Bianca held back a chuckle as she lightly said “Then it’s a good thing I kept it in mind. Go on. Blow out the candle. Grizelda said it’s tradition.” Timoteo looked back to the plate, blowing out the smoke with a quick jet of breath, the sickly sweet smell of smoke rising up from the thin gray column in the wake of his action.
Bianca was still smiling as she took a seat on the table’s left side from him, looking at him and watching him examine her creation. He was quiet for a few seconds before she asked “Have you never seen one of those, before? What did the Guild feed you on your birthdays?” Timoteo shrugged and glanced at her, saying “To be honest, birthdays at the Guild weren’t too important. There was no real celebration. Of course, the rest of the guys would want to do something special to mark the day, but...No special dinners, or anything.” Bianca looked at her creation and compassionately said “That’s terrible, Tim...I couldn’t imagine a birthday without cake. Grizelda always made me cake on special days.” “So that’s what this is. To be honest, I’ve never seen something like this before. Is it...Chocolate?” Bianca nodded and looked back over to him, raising an eyebrow slightly as she said “It was a little difficult to make. I had to get milk, eggs, some flour...And then baking the cake was an even bigger challenge. But, I’ve seen Grizelda make it all before numerous times, so I had an idea as to how everything went. The hardest part was getting all the chocolate to flavour it enough.”
Timoteo smiled warmly, all the more flattered she would go to the trouble of making him something special for his birthday. Before he could get up to get utensils, Bianca did just that, rising from her seat and heading over towards a nearby cabinet. “You must’ve made the whole thing in secret, I had no idea you were making something like this. I never saw bags of flour around, or...” Bianca sounded almost embarrassed as she said “I had to use most of the ingredients right away, or else they’d go bad...I needed to keep the cake in the cellar so it’d stay fresh, too. It took a few tries before I got the cake just right.” “A few tries?” He repeated, watching her walk back to the table. She raised a hand and played with some of her bangs for a moment as she said “About...Seven tries? I’m not sure, but it’s not important. It was for your birthday, after all.” Timoteo slowly smiled until he was almost grinning, his eyes half-open as she came beside him and handed him a knife and a fork.
She noticed his look, shyly saying “...Yes?” He kept smiling, looking at the cake, bringing the fork over. He glided the fork through the moist cake, getting a nice little piece to lie over the fork’s prongs. Keeping his other hand under the fork to catch the cake piece should it slip, he began to bring it over towards her. “I want you to have the first taste. It’s only right.” Bianca looked at him with a bit of surprise before she hastily said “No, I can’t, it’s your birthday, Tim. I shouldn’t, it’s not right.” “You should. You put so much effort into it, you deserve it much more than I do.” “But...” He held the fork up a few inches from her chin, warmly saying “I can wait. Open up...” She looked at him hesitantly, glanced at the fork, and then started to smile sweetly. “...Okay. Thank you.” She quietly said, opening her mouth a little. He carefully guided the fork into her mouth, watching as she pressed her lips down on it, letting them run over the fork as he slipped it away from her.
She chewed, smiling more, swallowing before she said “I think I made it just right. Have some.” He went ahead and got some more cake on the fork, giving her creation a taste. The inside of the cake was moist and fluffy, while there was a creamy exterior layer of chocolate coating. The cake was delicious, Timoteo was completely taken aback by the taste, the richness of the flavour quickly made him question why he had never seen such a thing at Darrah’s estate. When Bianca saw the astonished look dawning over his face, she started to grin a little, her eyes thoroughly pleased as she took her seat again. He started to cut himself a slice of the cake, eating it rather quickly, obviously loving the taste of chocolate. When he finished his piece, he cut Bianca a slice, offering her a generous piece. She modestly accepted the hunk of cake, taking her time to finish it. By the time she was done, Timoteo felt fairly full, regretfully deciding not to eat any more of the cake, saving the rest for later.
Bianca returned the cake to the cellar, Timoteo still relaxing by the time she returned. When she came back, she approached him, a little smile to her as she said “I need you to pull your chair out, Tim...” He looked at her curiously before wondering if she wanted to sit in his lap, getting up a little to slide his chair away from the table. She proved him right yet stilled managed to surprise him, getting over him a little, spreading her legs so she could put them by either side of the chair. He looked up at her as she came over his legs, bringing her hands to his shoulders as she sat down over his thighs, facing him in his lap. He held her by her hips, smiling contently, slowly letting out a deep breath. She slowly rubbed at his shoulders, massaging him through his shirt. Somewhat coyly, she said “It’s your birthday, we can do anything you want...” “Oh?” She smiled more, tilting her head to the side a little, moving a hand closer to the side of his neck and rubbing lightly at his skin.
She nodded gently, feeling him slip his hands further around her. Bringing his hands to the middle of her back, he leaned her a little closer to him, lightly urging “Come here...” She closed her eyes, leaned closer to him, and kissed him. They went slowly, affectionate with their oral embracing, enjoying the hint of chocolate on each other’s tongue. They had kissed for close to a dozen seconds before there was a rapid set of tapping at the window nearby, Timoteo instantly knowing it had to have been one of Bianca’s crows or ravens. Bianca pulled back, a string of their mixed saliva stretching from the tips of their tongues as they parted, breaking and landing down over her chin. She raised a hand, wiping at her chin with her thumb as she looked over towards a nearby window. Smiling gently, she spoke with regret as she said “I need a minute, Abel wants to tell me something...” She started to get up from his lap, Abel giving the window a few more rapid taps with his beak. “Sounds urgent.” Timoteo remarked. Bianca said nothing, but silently, she thought the same, wondering if Witchspotters were bearing down on the duo’s safehouse.
As soon as she opened the window, Abel spread his wings and flew into the room, giving them both a startle. He let out a caw before coming to Bianca’s shoulder, landing with a heavy thud, his talons grabbing into her. She tried murmuring soothingly to him, but he began his message right away, coming close to the side of her neck. Timoteo watched Bianca’s eyes widen. The message was short, and evidently bad; Bianca’s breathing starting to quicken until she was close to hyperventilating, the young woman glancing around, as if she had dozens of things to do and no idea where to begin. “What’s wrong?” Timoteo asked, getting up to his feet. Bianca quickly started walking towards the staircase nearby, hastily saying “It’s Grizelda, she was coming here before she walked into a trap. She’s hurt, she needs help!” Timoteo was surprised for hardly a second before he acted. Rushing up into the bedroom with Bianca, he started to pull on his chainmail shirt as she got her cloak on. “Do you know where she is?” He asked, grabbing his pack, pulling it on, his mace in hand.
“Yes, but she’s rather far, we’ll need to run for a while.” Bianca said, trying to keep her voice calm. “Not a problem.” He stated, already heading down the stairs. Bianca followed after him with Abel on her shoulder, the two heading out through the front door, shutting and locking it behind themselves. “This way, come on. I just hope Grizelda can hold out until we get there.” Bianca said, quickly heading off towards the west, moving with urgent purpose. “I’m sure she will.” Timoteo confidently said, going after her, the two quickly taking off in a run together. Bianca sent Abel off with the goal of trying to help Grizelda, wanting him and the rest of her feathered friends to assist her any way possible. The trek was arduous, the two easily running across several miles of land, going into sprints to avoid the creatures they could, stopping to fight the faster ones, such as balverines. They knew they were closing in on Grizelda’s location when firearms fire rose up on the wind, the duo every few seconds hearing a popping, signalling a potentially lethal blow to Grizelda.
They couldn't hear any birds, signalling that Bianca's feathered scouts had eventually found it too dangerous to remain any longer. Bianca went into a panicked burst of speed, despite already panting immensely. Timoteo tried to keep up with her, but his pack and armour were weighing him down somewhat, the added burden sucking more energy from him. They heard screeching birds next, followed by a few immense gusts of wind, screaming through the branches of the skeletal trees. Grizelda’s voice came echoing out as she loudly said “Begone!” A clap of thunder rumbled above a split-second before a bolt of lightning slammed down somewhere ahead, briefly blasting a white light through the environment. As they came closer, they both spotted a few Witchspotters, trying to take cover behind trees as they fired ahead of themselves, their backs to them both. Bianca pulled her hands back momentarily before three Blades appeared behind her, shooting out when she threw her arms out.
The magic swords all hit one Witchspotter in the back, pinning him to the tree, his body going limp, his limbs dangling with dead weight. Timoteo approached another, the Witchspotters noticing Bianca before Timoteo. When he raised his firearm in her direction, Timoteo swung his mace down into his hand, making the man cry out in surprised pain, the firearm flung from his grip. Timoteo swung his mace around and hit the man in the side of his face, tearing open his cheek, blood spraying out from the shattering blow. The man crumpled down to the ground, but before Timoteo could hit him again to make sure he was dead, a searing pain blew through his chest, making him stumble back. Another Witchspotter had seen him, quickly reloading her firearm to shoot him again before he recovered enough to act. Timoteo glared at her and threw out a focused blast of Force Push, the rippling column of invisible energy hitting her hard enough to launch her off of her feet.
Timoteo raced over before she could rise, and despite her sudden pleas for mercy, he crashed his mace into her throat as hard as he could, killing her instantly. Bianca called out Grizelda’s name, running further into the trees. Four Witchspotters leaned out from behind trees, pointing their firearms at her. Bianca sprinted to the side as slugs flew out, diving behind a tree. Timoteo cast Battle Charge, racing through the trees, a streak of orange light left behind him. When he reached a Witchspotter, instead of using his mace, he let out a nova of Force Push, sending his target and another Witchspotter nearby flying. Bianca noticed his assistance, as well as how the Witchspotters were all now focusing on him, giving her an opening.
Timoteo cast Physical Shield just in time to deflect a firearm slug from one of the downed Witchspotters, the second one letting off a shot as well, doing enough damage to his Shield to force it down. Bianca ran over, despite hearing more of the conflict to her right, along with spells being cast by Grizelda. One Witchspotter, still standing, raised his firearm in Timoteo’s direction. Bianca cast Assassin’s Rush and teleported behind him in the blink of an eye. Pulling out her obsidian dagger, she grabbed him with one arm, repeatedly plunging her dagger into the small of his back until he went weak and limp. Her expression unflinching, she let him fall, then threw a fireball out at the second standing Witchspotter, hitting her with enough strength to engulf her in hungry flames. Timoteo cast Lightning at the nearest Witchspotter he had downed, the electricity chaining to the second downed enemy, jolting them both with enough strength to make them convulse against the ground.
When he was sure they had died, he threw a fireball at the woman Bianca had already set alight, adding fresh power to the consuming blaze. She danced in agony under the fire, but eventually she just collapsed, either already dead or simply giving in to the fire. “Are you okay?” She asked, noticing the blood running over his chainmail shirt from the slug he had taken. He cast Heal Life on himself, relief flooding his system as the injury knitted itself shut. “Now I am.” He said, smiling a little. Bianca glanced over her shoulder as a screaming gale blew through the trees, the wind whistling through the trees like the screams of a banshee. Bianca turned and took off, racing towards her guardian, Timoteo going after her. They passed a few corpses on their way to the scene, evidently victims to Grizelda’s power. They saw flashes come from the sides of a few nearby trees, lead slugs whizzing through the air towards one particular tree nearby.
They saw Grizelda lean out from behind the tree and launch out a focused blast of Force Push that made Timoteo’s look amateur in power. The rippling column of air flew through space in the blink of an eye, slamming into the trunk of one tree so hard it seemed to partially shatter. Shards of wood, splinters as big as someone’s finger, came flying out in a sudden storm of death, massacring the Witchspotter behind the tree. Grizelda ducked behind the tree again when a slug came flying her way. Bianca ran in Grizelda’s direction, Timoteo seeing no alternative but to follow. A Witchspotter that had secretly been trying to flank Grizelda came out from behind a tree near her, having a clear line of sight to her, aiming with his firearm. Before he could squeeze the trigger, Bianca hit him with a sudden blast of Turncoat, the purple light shimmering around him as his views of reality were distorted. “Bianca?” Grizelda said, obviously surprised.
Timoteo and Bianca got behind the tree with her, staying in cover as much as possible. “What are you doing here? Nevermind, I was about to see you anyway, it’s about Octavia.” Grizelda said, a slug whipping past the tree, narrowly missing her shoulder. “Has she gone back to the Chasm?” Bianca asked, looking at Grizelda anxiously. “Yes, but we can talk after we’ve gotten rid of these simpletons.” Grizelda said, hopping out from behind the tree. Bianca’s turned Witchspotter had reached his fellows, firing at them, shooting one in the head, killing him instantly. He struggled with a second, fighting with him, trying to get his freshly reloaded firearm from him. Grizelda used the opening to throw an explosive fireball at them both, the eruption making the ground shake, both Witchspotters being torn asunder under the energy of the explosion. She hit another with some kind of hex, red electricity arcing around his arms. To the Witchspotter’s pure horror, he unwillingly raised his firearm to the side of his own head, the hex forcing him to commit suicide.
Two Witchspotters to the side leaned out from behind trees, Timoteo spotting them, Grizelda unaware of their presence. He jumped in front of her, spread his arms out by his sides, and cast Physical Shield. The Witchspotters opened fire anyway, the slugs ricocheting off of his Will barrier, firing off to the sides. Grizelda reached past him and threw out numerous large shards of ice, the shards over a meter long, thicker than Timoteo’s arm. The icy shards hit the Witchspotters and tore them apart, slaughtering them both. “I could kiss you for that.” Grizelda said, smiling a little. One last Witchspotter stepped out from behind a tree, Bianca throwing a Blade over, the sword hitting the Witchspotter square in the chest. He was dead before he hit the ground. Once the last Witchspotter was gone, Bianca rushed closer to Grizelda, hurriedly saying “My mother, she went back to the Chasm?” Grizelda turned to Bianca, her expression quickly turning serious as she said “Yes, she snuck in while I was dealing with a trader going through the area. I don’t think she knows I’m aware she’s returned, but I put a barrier over the Chasm’s entrance to prevent her from leaving. She’s stuck, but every minute I’m away is a minute she could be accomplishing her goal.”
“You mean, turning herself into some kind of evil creature.” Timoteo said. Grizelda gave a nod, saying “That’s what I suspect her goal is, but it’s hard to say. Using the heart of one’s spouse is a vital reagent in more than one ritual, but what makes me suspect that Octavia wants to change herself is some of the things I found in the Chasm. The energies there are particularly malignant. She could easily feed her powers enough to perform the deed.” “Why didn’t you stop her right away?” Bianca questioned, confused. Grizelda looked at Bianca and smiled faintly, raising her eyebrows a little. “Because I wanted you to have a chance to do that yourself.” She simply said. Bianca took a moment to respond. “Thank you, but like you said, we’re wasting time. I don’t want her to succeed.” She said, somewhat emotionlessly. “Of course. I thought you’d be a little happier for the opportunity, however.” Grizelda said, sounding just a little amused.
Bianca crossed her arms beneath her bosom, calmly saying “I can’t thank you enough. I don’t know how I feel right now, but I know I want to see her, again. Let’s go, the Chasm is miles from here.” “It will take her hours to prepare everything for the ritual, not to mention channel the energies of the place into herself.” Grizelda calmly said, beginning to walk off towards the northwest. Timoteo and Bianca followed after her, Bianca quietly saying “That doesn’t mean we should let her capitalize on your absence. I don’t have anything I want to say to her when I see her again. I just want her gone.” “You’ll get your chance.” Grizelda promised, leading the two away from the scene of the battle.
Darrah was smiling widely as she moved through the hallway, almost skipping like a little girl as she went. She was wearing a white nightgown, little white slippers on her feet, her long, blonde hair loose and flowing behind her. She made her way through the fairly dark hallway until she came up to a bedroom door, raising a hand and giving the door a knock with one knuckle. “Craig? It’s me. Can I come in?” She asked, her voice friendly. Her brother’s voice was deep, masculine, sounding very much like Alexander’s own. “Sure, come on in.” Darrah turned the knob and pushed his door open, stepping inside, shutting it behind herself. His bedroom looked much like her own, only there were more paintings hanging from the walls, many of them portraits of women who had been, or still were, vying for Craig’s affections. As he was the true heir to Alexander’s territory and power, many women took it upon themselves to win his heart, some deciding that gifting him with portraits of themselves would help him think of them more.
He was sitting on the edge of his bed, a leg raised with the ankle over his other leg’s knee, leaning over slightly as he held a book up. A few candles were lit on the bedside table near his side, illuminating the immediate area enough for him to read his book. He looked to be in his early twenties, a young man in the prime of his life. He was in just a pair of pants, the black dye covering the material making the garment stand out vividly. Like Darrah, he had dirty blonde hair, his hair short and combed to neatness, his bangs combed down towards his eyes, covering his forehead without passing his eyebrows. Like Alexander, Craig had a rather big, muscular body, the eldest child an inch or two taller than Darrah, his body rippling with toughened muscle mass. Unlike his sister, he had bright blue eyes, thoughtfully scanning over the page he was reading. He was clean-shaven, and with a strong jaw, he almost looked like a classical Hero from olden times.
Darrah nodded in his direction as she walked over, asking “What book is that?” “A little something I picked up on my trip. Foreign fighting styles are fascinating. I’m interested to see how effective some of these are.” Closing his book, he rested it down in his lap, looking up at her. “But, it can wait. Was there something on your mind?” He asked, smiling. Darrah came before him, smiling as she warmly said “I wanted to sleep in your bed, tonight. Just like old times.” Craig raised an eyebrow faintly, letting out a little sigh, smiling still as he wearily said “Don’t you think you’re getting a little old for that, Darrah? I mean, you’re not a little girl, anymore.” “Oh, hush. Don’t suddenly act like you hated having a bedmate. Remember those freezing nights during the winter? The only reason it was bearable was because we had each other to warm up the bed.” “Fine, fine...If you insist.” He said, picking up his book again, smiling a little. “Oh, don’t you act like that.” She said, smiling widely, holding back a laugh.
She quickly slipped off her nightgown, toeing her slippers from her feet, letting them sit together near the foot of his bed. When he saw her body, he did a double-take, quickly saying “Avo, Darrah. Look what they did to you!” Darrah gave him a curious look, walking back over towards him, saying “What’re you talking about?” He tossed his book over on to the bed by his side, staring at her mid section. He brought a hand over, running his palm along her toned abs, saying “The Guild turned you into some kind of barbarian. Look at these muscles! What happened to the slim little girl I used to know?” Darrah smiled again and rolled her eyes, saying “She grew up and became a Hero. When bandits see me charging, they turn tail and beat feet.” He brought his hands down to the outsides of her thighs, patting her legs. “Jeez, you’re practically rock-hard. You could probably crush a watermelon with your legs.” “You almost sound jealous, Craig.” Darrah teased, grinning a little.
He glanced up at her eyes, smiling, looking back down to her stomach. “Hang on, what’s that?” He asked, raising a hand, scratching at one of her defined muscles. “What’s what?” She asked, looking downwards. “That.” He said, leaning closer towards her, scrutinizing her skin. “What’s-” She only managed to say, before breaking into a laugh. He grabbed her by her hips, interrupting her by smothering his face into her stomach, blowing a raspberry against her. She writhed a little from the tickling sensation, trying to pull away, but he held fast, ending up pulling her over him on to the bed. She started tickling him to make him release her, but he just tickled her back, the two rolling around and struggling over his bed like a pair of roughhousing canines. When they were both breathless, they simply gave in, lying there in silence as they recovered. Eventually, Darrah’s eyelids began to droop, her lack of energy making her want for sleep seem twice as prominent. “...I’m really glad you’re back, Craig.” She eventually said.
He smiled a little and got up from the bed, saying “And I’m glad to be back. You didn’t think I’d skip out on seeing my baby sister when she’s finally gotten out of the Guild, did you? Aurora was nice, but not that nice.” Darrah smiled a little, yawning as he slipped off his pants. She started to crawl under the covers of his bed, Craig joining her in a moment, coming close behind her. Like they did as children, they came close together and started spooning without a shred of awkwardness, fitting their bodies together like two pieces of the same puzzle. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he heard her say a goodnight, Craig sighing out the same. The last thing he experienced before he slipped into a deep sleep was the light honey scent of her hair, serenading his senses into a relaxing darkness.
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Fable : Fall of the Guild