“WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE’S GONE?! HOW THE HELLS DO YOU LOSE A SEVEN-FOOT-TALL HALF-DEVIL?!” Captain Borgast screeched at the poor sod he sent to check the prisoners. The stout man's voice carried loud enough that the whole caravan could hear him.
“T-the cell was empty, a-and the guard on duty last night had his head caved in just outside her cell. We’re also missing three days’ worth of food, and the guard’s crossbow and sword were missing,” his subordinate replied in a shaky tone, looking ready to run.
“So you’re telling me… that not only did that beast get out, but she’s armed, has a head start, and supplies?” The captain asked, slumped down with a resigned sigh as he tried to calm himself, a hand resting on the bounty poster depicting a king killer and high reward.
“With all due respect, don’t ya think we should cut our losses?” The lower enlisted asked anxiously. “And miss out on a ten thousand Tal payout? Now find her, or I’ll have your head on a pike.” He said with a growl as he looked up from his desk.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Vellora sighed softly as she popped her lengthy neck, letting loose a satisfying crack, before opening her amethyst eyes and starting to take stock of her supplies.
“Let’s see, food for three days, maybe four if I’m smart about it, a waterskin, shortsword, hand crossbow, twenty bolts, a few copper coins, five feet of rope, a lock pick, and,” She said before pulling on the burlap prisoner’s uniform she was given at intake. “These damned rags. Well, this is lovely. I’m all set to be queen. But first, I need a new name. The name before last was nice.” She said bitterly before gathering up everything. “Welcome to your new life, Belladonna.”
As Vellora started to run again, she hummed softly, scanning the deep woods, as her elven ears listened out for any threat or pursuer.
Now, where am I? The trees are too dense to see the sun or stars, and the moss is thick on all sides of these trees. Wait— that sounds like.
Her pace slowed as she focused on the sound of rushing water before carefully heading towards the sound. After walking almost half a mile, she found herself at a wide river with a well-built ancient stone bridge crossing. Its steadfast stones stand as a bulwark against the march of time, a few cracks and sighs of wear evident, but it still stands proud.
As she looked up at the thick pine canopy, she could barely see the setting sun, her eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness as a faint glimmer of stars started to dot the gaps between the trees.
Well, I don’t want to run around the woods at night, and if they send someone out this far, I’d probably be able to take them. She thought to herself.
She walked towards the bridge, and her eyes caught her reflection in the river. Her usually pallid lavender skin was plaid, her long, usually well-kept azure hair was now in tangles of knots, and a slight scar ran along her sharp cheekbones. She still recognized the face, though it looked ghostly and starved.
Vellora ran a hand along the slightly curved cheekbones. “I look half dead, but at least nothing was broken off.” She muttered as she moved to hunker down near the bridge for the night.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
She crammed her frame into an old crack about three feet wide under where the arch met the walkway, the most dirt and soft moss giving off a musky scent. Squeezing into tight spaces was always comforting for the half-devil; she always felt safer in tight spaces, less likely to be snatched in the night by those who saw her as a bag of coins. To most, the cramped space would be off-putting, but to her, it was as cozy as a feathered bed. The tight space led her to drift off to a dreamless sleep.
—
As the sun rose, the scent of rain filled Vellora’s lungs, and she started to stir from her sleep and a soft smile was on her lips as she slipped from the crack. She stretched her lithe body and started to ready herself for the day. The air was chill as mist rose from the slow-flowing brook. Amidst the fog, she could see a deer drinking peacefully, but it was startled and darted into the undergrowth as she started to move.
Gathering up what she couldn’t squeeze into the hole, her eyes locked onto a small carving in one of the stones.
“Gilding? Way out here?” She pondered curiously.
As she moved closer to the bridge's masonry, her fingers cleared the mud from the thievish symbols for “supplies.” She started to check the stones, finding several to be loose. Behind them was a mid-sized chest that seemed to be watertight.
She pulled out her lock pick after carefully checking the box over for anything untoward, finding nothing; a sly grin grew on her lips. She enjoyed the little things in life: a good meal, cracking a well-made lock, plugging a sharp blade into a throat, the simple things.
Sadly, despite the care put into carving a hollowed spade and the inlay of gold leaf with a weeping diamond at its tip, this was not a fine lock; it was relatively simple and easy to understand, like talking to a man who’s never left his family’s home. It opened with unsatisfying ease.
As for what lay inside, she found two sets of clothes, one male and the other female, both about a size too small for her, though the dress could probably fit, a nice set of lock picks, a few daggers which she ignored, smaller lock box marked in gilding as “fang” that caught her eye. As she fully lifted the lid, a sheet of parchment drifted down onto the clothes. Picking it up and reading it, it outlined what was last resupplied, what was taken, and what was left behind.
“Please leave a message of what was taken.” She read at the bottom, causing her to chuckle softly before, on a whim, she wrote down what she was taking, leaving the symbols of her guild, a set of fanged teeth— representing the Blooded Dagger Assassination Guild.
In the morning light, she changed from the rags she was into a rather dull dress of faded yellow with dirt stains at the hem. While it wasn’t her normal look, she’d rather have dark silks hiding thick leather armor, but this would make do for now.
She did one kindness back to the Silver Spades guild, replacing the rocks and leaving the clue stone upside down to denote it needed resupply.
“I may be cutthroat, but all that live in the shadows must abide by at least this kindness, lest my next salvation be false,” She muttered silently.
“Now to head east and see about starting this new life.” She said with a resigned but optimistic voice as she climbed the muddy riverbank and started along the old, cobbled road.