It was slow at first, a stifled yelp, a cry for help, the pleading of a welp all fallen on deaf ears as the arbiter of their doom hunted the bandits giving no quarter. It began with stragglers, those seperated from the hoard for whatever reason, silently stalked and cut down in an instant. First one, then two and so on as the huntress fulfilled her name’s sake and thinned the herd. By the time ten of their number had disappeared, the group finally caught on that something was amiss. It was at this time the cause for their worries decided to make herself known.
She strode into the centre of the village, a lone warrior doused in crimson from the top of her head to the soles of her boots. The hard unrepentant look in her eyes betrayed the festering giddiness that bubbled beneath the surface. The first kill had been hard on her, the second less so and each subsequent elimination turned a numb hatred to a psychotic exaltation. She refused to give into it however, she was done being a slave to her emotions and would be the master. Her onlookers weren’t aware of any of this however as all they could see was the young adventurer their boss was dealing with earlier walking purposefully into town, a long metal shaft dragging behind by a black chain wrapped around her fist. The bandits immediately circled her as they had done not too long ago yet there was unease in their eyes. What happened to their boss? What about the guys supposed to be watching her? Where were the rest of them? Were all questions that ran through their minds and while the answer seemed obvious none dared believe it. When the huntress was certain just about every bandit in the brigade had arrived, she spoke aloud, her voice carrying far and wide.
“YOUR BOSS IS DEAD!”
She announced hoisting the broken shaft of his weapon up before tossing it aside.
“YOUR FRIENDS ARE DEAD!”
She held the lightly dripping knife high feeling the cool trickle of blood run down her arm.
“AND YOU… YOU’RE ALL DEAD.”
Her words dripped with anger such that none in attendance could mistake her intent. One brazen man with a snake tattoo on his face and neck stepped forth, he was always more brawn than brain.
“You what? The boss is too big for you to handle girly. Dunno where he is but me mates and me will keep ya busy till he gets back.”
The huntress locked eyes with the burly man sizing him up until her gaze fell upon the tattoo on his head. It reminded her of the Coldra from so long ago. How did she handle that thing again?
“Oh right.”
She remembered exactly what she did to that big dumb snake. Flipping her blade between her thumb and index finger, the huntress hurled her weapon at the confident bandit. Her knife struck true landing where the snakes head sat between his eyebrows. For a second all was calm until the man slumped back landing with a meaty thump. Like a starting pistol had gone off, the bandits roared and flung themselves into a flurry of action. The circle rapidly tightened around the huntress leaving her no room to escape. On land at the very least as she had already empowered herself with the second to last monster power stored within her knife. Bending her knees, she launched herself upwards and over the approaching storm of blades, blunt objects and blunt faces. Landing atop the slanted roof of a nearby building, she turned around to face the bottom feeders below. There was still a number of cretins to deal with, but some were already fleeing having taken her threat to heart. She would have none of that. Raising her arms out to either side she quickly brought her hands together, entwining her fingers in the process.
“ENTRAP AND ENCIRCLE THEM ALL! DON’T LET A SINGLE ONE ESCAPE!”
Heeding her command, a flurry of black chains erupted from every shadow cutting of exits and turning the open square into a maze of doom. The huntress peered down at the rapidly panicking group of marauders while trying to pick out her next target. A rattled man wielding a bow knocked an arrow and tried to take aim. His nerves caused his hand to shake uncontrollably, and his shot missed by a mile. All the action really did was make him a target as his assailant was once again brought back to a particularly troublesome fight she lost. Not wanting to repeat history, she shot off the roof like a rocket aiming straight for the archer. She collided with the bandit slamming them both into a wall that cracked under the impact. Still clinging to life, the archer could do nought but watch as he was hoisted up with a metal gloved hand wrapped around his throat.
Stolen story; please report.
“RETURN!”
The huntress demanded extending her free hand out in the direction of the tattooed man. A chain snaked out from his shadow, wrapped around the blade still embedded in his head then jerked back flinging the weapon towards its master. The knife spun through the air faster than anyone could see before landing in the huntress’s open palm. She let go of her captive and swiped her blade across his stomach before he hit the floor. Turning from the dying man, she eyed the rest of the bandits, her hungry gaze observing each as she tried to pick out her next meal. Although Valerie tried not to feed into the blood lust, she couldn’t help but lap at the scarlet nectar coating her cheek.
“Who’s next?”
A yell to her left brought the huntress’s attention to a man carrying a broadsword as he attempted to overhead swing the weapon onto her head. Like most of his brethren, the bandit was sparsely armoured giving him much more range of movement but also leaving him open to counter attacks. Side stepping the strike, the huntress slammed her boot onto the sword driving it into the dirt and unbalancing the wielder. She delivered a skull shattering punch to his cranium then followed up with a deep cut to his neck as he went flying back. A ruffian carrying a shield tried to charge into her, but she caught the buckler wrenching it from his grip before smashing it down onto his head. The shield bearer landed roughly to the ground; his sole means of protection splintered around him. He would have mourned the loss of his favourite shield had a falling knee not crushed his head. With her third kill in so many seconds, the huntress felt the monster blood empowering her fade. She still had one remaining, but it was a special dose, and she didn’t want to waste it on this rabble. Resetting her stance, she scanned the scattered ne’er-do-wells searching for her next target. Overpowering them was out so now it was time to outclass them. With a roar she sprang forth, her metal clad fist and crimson blade dancing around in a ceaseless torrent of fury.
She punched, kicked, sliced and cut anything and everything she saw as she worked her way through the bandits. Faces were caved in, tendons cut, throats slit and eyes gouged as she lost herself in a trance of carnage. Were she in any right state of mind she might have noticed she had fallen into this state once before when combatting the Gentle Sword. That trance however had been a desperate gamble between life and death that forced her to change how she viewed her aspects. Now as she slammed her bloodied fists into the meaty face of a butt ugly thief turning him hideous in the process she was back to that same revelatory feeling. Her first trance made her realize the defensive nature of her aspects; this new one however made her accept the reality of her skill set. Since the moment she picked up that knife all those years ago she had always been steadily making her way here.
“Please! Stop!”
A voice cried out, but she couldn’t determine from where as she yelled furiously and drove her weapon further into a man’s chest. The movement felt so organic, so simple, as she snapped an arm backwards and jammed the slick blade between ribs before tearing it free and plunging once again. Every action she took was practiced, precise, like she had done it a hundred times before, because she had. Fighting monsters for so long made her forget where her training originated and how the way she moved seemed so ill suited to combatting beasts. She made do overpowering them or finding a specific weak spot, but she had to accept that she wasn’t built, wasn’t trained to fight monsters. Well, not animalistic monsters, she could regardless but they weren’t her forte.
“You murdering Bitch!”
A rough voice called out as they struck the huntress on the side of her head. Rather than topple over or crumple from the blow she fed into it moving like water as she twisted around the wild haymaker. Coming within a hair’s breadth of her attacker, she met eyes with the man and violently headbutted him before kicking between his legs. Where was she? Her forte, that’s right. She should have known when fighting the Battleboon by the fluidity of her motions and unrelenting force. A crossbows bolt was knocked away with a lazy sling of her left arm. She should have realized combating the hoard of ghouls by the way she expertly took them down despite their far superior numbers. A spear was snapped in two, the metal point turned back onto its owner. She really should have put the pieces together when fighting Fandrial, her revelation and shift in style nothing truly new to her. She threw her knife which arced in a wide circle before returning, caught between her teeth, as she slammed both hands against either side of a battered thief’s head. The pieces were there but it was only after sparring with Joanne that she slowly began to realize exactly what she was capable of. A tooth went flying past her face as she knocked a pair of bandit skulls together.
“I AM VALERIE HUNT, I AM THE TROPHY HUNTER, I AM YOUR DOOM!”
She screamed into the heavens, blood and viscera running down her face like a mask of vermillion horror. She was a monster hunter by trade but ultimately, Valerie was a virtuoso at utterly decimating human or humanoid opponents. She held herself back when first encountering these retches but now she was truly unleashed and despite the alarm bells ringing in her head she felt good, alive, like she was exactly where she needed to be. She swiped her blade through the air decapitating a fleeing man before he could escape far enough away. She had escaped her uncle to find herself but as it turned out it was through her uncle’s teaching that she grasped the truth. Valerie was a killer, it didn’t matter if it was monsters or men, she was ruin to them all. Ending the lives of cruel creatures before they had a chance to hurt her or those close to her seemed like a convenient excuse. Truthfully, there was nothing virtuous about what she was doing, she was simply a cog in a machine she had been grinding against for far too long. The mad cackle she often let slip was replaced with a maniacal, whimsical, terrible laugh of pure and utter joy.
Were her guardians or her uncle here to watch they would undoubtedly worry for Valerie’s state of mind. The only observer who mattered however clung to the shadows; a satisfied smile splayed across her face as she watched her friend enjoy herself. It seemed today was a good day for both of them, she got a new friend and whatever internal problems her compatriot was dealing with were gone, a distant memory. Staring at the carnage still being unleashed, Samantha couldn’t help but give voice to a feeling welling up inside her. She was not artistic by nature but with no one around she thought she might as well wax poetic.
“On this day, in this ruined village, with the signing of a single contract, the world received the harbinger of its end. It also gained the warrior who would root out every last monster, villain, and infernal creature she could lay her hands on. And were both bat shit insane!”