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Portrait of a killer - Meram Anttin
Posted: 07 Jun 2005 12:23 PM |
The shadow flitted from tree to tree, disturbing nothing but the blood red mist which swirled around it as it moved, paused, then moved again until it found a particularly dark little corner and resolved itself into a blue clad halfling.
The tiny little figure glanced quickly around and settled back against the tree, pulling a small sword from its sheath to sharpen it as her blue eyes flicked from spot to spot, searching the mist. She tested the edge on her thumb and, apparently satisfied, sheathed it and drew the one at her other hip to do the same.
She jumped quickly to her feet at a quiet rustle from the bushes nearby, blades at the ready, relaxing only when she realised it was a fox, her face contorting as she emitted a series of low barks and growls, causing the fox to flatten it’s ears against its head and retreat. “It ain’t yer turn,” she muttered as the animal disappeared in the mist and undergrowth, “I ain’t ‘ungry yet.”
The figure faded, as shadows appeared to leap from the ground around her and conceal her already tiny form, "Untin time,” came the small voice from seemingly nowhere.
Ten minutes later, a little further into the wood, the ettin stopped dead in its tracks, both heads letting out a howl of pain as it dropped its spear and clasped the vicious slash at the back of it’s knee with both huge hands. As it lowered its huge form in pain the tiny figure appeared again, using its agility to stay out of reach and plunging its swords again and again into the figure. The normally sparkling eyes totally emotionless, the stabbing accompanied by a low, monotone chant. “Tha’s fer me dad…tha’s fer me mum.”
At last the creature fell to the earth with a resounding crash and the little killer stood next to it, swords dripping with blood, staring with glazed eyes at the corpse.
Memories: ”'Motions is diiffercult things ter 'andle, Johe. Bes' not ter let 'em get in the way when yer fightin'. I ain't no one else when I fights, I’s what I does bes’”
The shadows leapt once more.
The ettin stopped in mid stride, paralysed by the blow that had come from nowhere and bitten deep into a kidney, unable to move it was powerless as the little figure jumped around it, slicing, stabbing with effortless precision, picking out spots chosen to kill. To kill painfully and quickly. The chant again: “I’ll show yer… I’ll show yer…”
Memories: ”An' like they does when yer wanders, stuff started 'ttackin' me…So I decided there were only two ways ter stop 'em. Either I learns ter ‘ide real good so they don' see me, or I learns ter kill 'em better an' quicker…So I done both. Anythin' what works is good, poison, acid, fire, anythin'… If it 'elps ter kill 'em then fair enough in my book”
The shadows leapt once more.
And another, the ettin coldly butchered until the little figure stood silently over it’s body, showing no sign of the fight but a heaving chest as she panted and the gore still dripping from the blades, no emotion, no reaction. Looking down at the body, blood spattered face calmly taking in the wounds.
Memories: ”Ya eva been luved afore?” He had asked quietly.
Nope.... I ain't very loveable. Ain't many folks loves 'ssassins.”
The shadows leapt once more.
And the last fell… ”they makes a lov’ley bang when they ‘it’s the groun’, Johe.”
The little figure stood alone in Bloodwood, exposed flesh, clothing and hair spattered with blood. She lifted her head and shouted. “I’m Meram Anttin an’ I’ll kill the lot o’ yer, this ain’t your wood I’s mine!” Then she looked down at the body and stared at it for a few moments, “An’ now I am ‘ungry,” she said softly, before bending over the body…
She sat in Kobai Canyon watching the liver as it roasted gently over the campfire; eyes still emotionless, dried blood caked on her features.
Memories: “Yer got ter let me try, Johe. I c’n do it… I know I can, I’s what I am.”
She pulled the half cooked liver from the stick and began to eat, a slight smile at last appearing on her face. “I tol’ yer Johe… I’m a killer.” |
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Re: Portrait of a killer - Meram Anttin
Posted: 07 Jun 2005 12:30 PM |
| *smiles proudly* tha's me gerl, bring on tha list! |
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Re: Portrait of a killer - Meram Anttin
Posted: 30 Jun 2005 11:44 AM |
Darkness.
Complete, impenetrable, utter darkness.
Silence.
Utter silence, save from the low, shuddering, drawn out breaths from the tiny, blood-smothered form in the corner of the room. Sprawled in a pool of blood, much of it her own, and other things besides, tatters of clothing, blue trimmed with gold. Though without the darkness it would have seemed red.
Encrusted with blood, much of it her own, both from the furious fight in the store and what had happened since. The almost comatose form shifted slightly, yielding a soft groan from bruised lips as she tried to push herself into a sitting position.
The soft groan rose almost to a shriek as she bit it off quickly trying to see the source of the pain. And then she remembered, gingerly reaching out with the other hand to feel the stump where her finger used to be.
"Oh, you won't die little one... not for a long time. Before that you will know the meaning of true pain"
And then the knife, the agony, the beating, and the darkness.
Unable to lift herself she sobbed weakly and turned her head, the dusky, blood matted hair stuck in places to the floor.
"Yer don' understan'...." She mumbled weakly, "yer don' understan'"
She tried to brush away the har from her face with her good hand, choking off another scream of pain as it ran across the now sightless eye socket.
"Little by little, piece by piece, Meram," the voice had said. "Piece by piece, cut after cut until he agrees. But you won't die."
She wept then, tears of frustration, pain and anger.
"Yer... yer don' understan'..." she whispered, "Why won' no one listen. It ain't me."
She gave up trying to move, and lay still. Panting with pain from the wounds, the bruises, the broken ribs.
"Little by little, piece by piece, until you will plead for the death you are so close to. Until you know there could not possibly be an increase to your suffering.
And then..." the voice had said, "we will heal you and begin again."
And so it had continued, the cuts, the beatings, the cold, professional, emotionless commentary.
"Yer don' understan'," whispered the small form through the sobs, "yer got the wrong one."
The darkness receded suddenly, and she weakly attempted to curl herself into a ball, pushing herself away from the sound of the approaching footsteps as the door opened once more.
"Yer don' understan'..." she whispered. |
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Re: Portrait of a killer - Meram Anttin
Posted: 30 Jun 2005 02:26 PM |
She desperately tried to pull herself away from the footsteps, fighting against the pain, trembling uncontrollably at the thought of what mught be to come.
"Yer... yer don' understan'... please."
The figure moved into the doorway, balanced perfectly on the balls of his feet, alert even here for possible trouble, even though it would be apparent to most that she could hardly move let alone fight back.
"I am truly sorry this had to be little one," he said with a regretful shrug.
She closed her remaining good eye and began to whimper, "Please mister Virallax... please, yer don' understan'. 'E won' do it fer me... not now. Yer don' understan'."
The elf gestured behind him and her whimpering increased as she fought to hold back her terror, still desperately trying to get as far away as possible.
The figure moved from behind the elf and began to incant, letting forth a burst of magic which washed over the tiny form.
"Relax, Meram. He has agreed and we will abide by our words, with honour."
She blinked in confusion, squinting slightly in the light from the door, realising as she did that her lost eye was restored.
"He has agreed, and you are healed. Apart," he smiled regretfully, "for your finger, which Johe has... the magics are unable to restore it."
She sat staring down at her hand, still trembling and unsure whether this was the truth or yet another cruel trick.
"Feed her," said Virallax, "and have clothing brought."
Having given his orders he looked once more at the halfling, "Recover your strength Meram, it should not be long now he has seen reason. Unfortunately, you will have to remain our guest for the time being, but hopefully your stay will now prove a much more pleasant one."
Not trusting herself to speak, she followed the figures to the door with her eyes. The confusion on them blatantly apparent as the door closed once more to leave her in darkness. |
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Re: Portrait of a killer - Meram Anttin
Posted: 01 Jul 2005 02:34 PM |
Darkness.
Darkness and absolute silence apart from the sound of her own breathing.
Three times now she had jumped to her feet in fear as the door had opened and light spilled into the room from outside. Only for the silent figure to leave food in the doorway without a word and leave... closing the door behind him. Leaving her to scrabble in the darkness for the food which had been left.
She huddled in the corner, hugging her knees tightly to her chest, still in pain from the missing finger, though since she had been healed it had faded to more of a dull ache. Clothed now, basically it was true, but at least it was clean. Unlike the room which still stank of her own blood and the various bones and other refuse which littered the floor.
She looked up as the door opened once more, the dim light from outside making her squint as it spilled in through the doorway. Blocked by one, then two, then a third figure.
As the first approached the fist hit her in the face without warning, cracking her head back against the wall, followed with two more rapid punches to her ribs. She screamed in pain as she felt bones break, blood running from her mouth.
As the beating continued the third figure spoke, emotionless, and yet with perhaps a hint of regret. "I am truly sorry, Meram," said the elven voice, "he has not kept his word. He has no honour"
Her screams rose in volume, forcing him to raise his voice slightly as he continued, "So, we must begin again."
The first figure drew back, leaving her huddled in the corner, whimpering, covered in her own blood. The second moved closer, the light glinting briefly on the blade he carried, and Meram screamed.
"Once more we must explore the limits of pain little one," said Virallax as he turned with perfect balance and left the other two to their task. |
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