Thread: The Mistress of the Woods (Aldir and Voly)

Pain or pleasure. For Len, it was a mixture of the two. From all the rumors she'd heard of the witch, the girl had always imagined the sort of fate that would await the sacrifices. She'd always thought that it'd be something grisly, that they'd but open and have their innards eaten or that perhaps they'd be bled dry. As the older woman spoke of the girl's fate, however, Len was slowly realizing that either of those two would've been far preferable to what now awaited her. Death at least had some sort of finality to it, but was this more akin to imprisonment. The idea of being trapped in a silent abyss, no people nor even guards to keep watch. Her screams would hold no sway, her senses practically blotted out. Even upon her most hated foe, the girl would not dare enact such a fate. Yet, here she was, about to suffer it. The fear was enough to make her throat go dry, her heart feeling as though it was about to beat right out of her chest. The binds had long since cut into her wrists from the girl's constant struggles, and even in the dim moonlight one could see just how clammy her skin had gone. As the frigid dagger slowly materialized in her soon-to-be murderer's hand the girl could do little more than stare wide-eyed. At least, until the witch seemingly decided to indulge her. The girl had tensed as she felt the woman's hand slowly wander down her form, moving past her belly and between her legs. As though the witch had done this a dozen times before, the fingers teased her womanhood before going deep. Len herself trembled, biting at her lip as a faint blush came to her cheeks. She knew that the witch was mocking her, that she was trying to make her lose what little of her pride remained, but even so there was denying the woman knew just where to strike. Oh...oh..god... She'd moan, Stop, p-please. Despite her words however, Len's voice was practically dripping with pleasure. The sacrifice could feel herself growing wet, her body trembling. Yet, before she'd get the chance to fully savor the moment the dagger would descend. ...! There'd be no pain, just a kind of numbness. Eyes widening as far as they could, lips parting with a silent scream, she'd meet the witch's empty gaze for one final time. I... She wouldn't get a chance to finish. What little life remained vanish, and within moments the girl had faded. Like countless others, her soul would be nothing more than timber for the witch's magic. --- Years continued to pass, and with it the number of sacrifices given to the witch hardly dwindled. Common sense would've dictated that the villagers should've left, and yet this was their home. Could they really dishonor their ancestors by leaving everything behind? Besides, where else could they go? The Empire was still at war with the barbarians of the north, leaving much of the land in ruins. Not to mention there was the plague as well. Hundreds had already fallen victim, their teeth turning rotten and skin becoming covered in boils. As far as the people were concerned, the villages were perhaps the 'safest' place they could be. With the war in full swing, most mercenaries and hunters had taken up work with the main army. Yet, a few had decided to chase other pursuits. Though most kept a wide-berth from the southern woods there were a few rather brave or foolhardy more like hunters who decided to test their luck against the infamous witch. Anais happened to be one. The sun had long since set by the time Anais finally reached her destination, the woods cloaked in a heavy shadow. Branches and twigs crunched beneath her leather boots, a soft frown painting her otherwise smooth features as she slowly treaded through the underbrush. It'd taken far too long to reach this damned place, fortune having apparently not favored her over the last week. There'd been the wagon-driver for one, a shrewish man who seemed to have not a speck of common-sense. Even for someone who knew not a thing about properly driving wagon, the girl was smart enough to know that driving through bandit territory because it was a 'shortcut' was asking for a knife to the gut and your valuables nicked. If it hadn't been for her own skill with a bow they both would've been dead. A small sigh escaped her lips as she shook her head, brushing the thought to the recesses of her mind. Now she was digressing, one of the better ways to get yourself killed in a hunt such as this. The woman could feel her grip tightening around the bow nestled in her right hand, her left only just barely brushing the tips of the arrows nestled within the quiver upon her back. It was odd, actually...she would've imagined that the witch would've been quick to pounce upon an unwelcome guest and yet...there was nothing. Aside from the crickets chirping and the earth crunching beneath her feet, Anais had heard not even a peep. Thud, thud, thud... Her heart had begun to pound in her chest, the young woman biting at her lip as her dark brown eyes scanned the landscape around her. It was nearly midnight now, the moon having reached its peak, joining with the light from the lantern at Anais's waist to create a glow that ate away at a bit of the darkness. Yet even then that did little to ease the apprehension within her. Nearing her late twenties, the woman had dealt with all manner of nastiness during her career. Nagas who's poison could melt you from the inside out, sirens who's lull could tempt even the sturdiest of soul, and quite a few other beasts. Even principal she felt that the witch would've been the same, and yet something heavy weighed on her heart. Maybe the generous reward wasn't worth it... More rays of moonlight through the cracks in the tree, a couple of them landing upon Anais herself. The pale light revealed a face wracked with exhaustion, deep bags hanging beneath a set of eyes that would've otherwise been beautiful. Thick, shoulder-length dark brown hair sat upon her head, pulled back into a ponytail. And there was her form, years of hunting having added a slight bit of muscle to her figure, though not enough to overwhelm her own femininity. For this particular hunt she'd dressed for mostly agility, unaware of her foe's potential. A thick tunic clung to her torso, a light leather cuirass over that. Below, it was the same, a pair of simple pants with leather armor upon the thighs. A set of boots follow, a dagger strapped to the left one, and to complete the ensemble a thick cloak was wrapped around her form, billowing slightly in the breeze. Said choice was usually enough for most of her hunts, and yet for this one...she wasn't 100 sure.