“Here it is lady Inimica, my masterpiece.” says the artisan with a mix of pride and greed.

The woman finds the man’s greed annoying, but apart from their strong emotions, humans are the easiest to deal with. Demi-Elf lack imagination and always use the same patterns, Dvergrs aren’t as bad as other Faes, but they are too proud and stubborn to listen to their clients’ demands. As for Fae, the adage says, ‘There is a fine line between genius and madness’ and as far as she is concerned, Goblins and Elves stepped over that line to jump right into insanity.

The cloak is a priceless piece, and many times, he thought about running away with the materials; with the sale of those alone, he could live in comfort for the rest of his life. His craftsman pride got the better of him though, it was his one chance in life to work with mythical materials, to create a work of legend, and be admired by all his fellow.

Being called by a name is novel, she held many titles over her long existence, most of them derogatory, but since she needed one to enter the city, she made this one on the spot by mixing of her role with the place she lives.

“It is perfect.” Lies the girl, she can spot defects, but the design is original, and she can have better craftsmen do some retouch at a later date.

“It is enchanted against stains, wear and tear, you could walk all over it with dirty boot and it would stay unblemished.” boasts the boutique’s owner.

‘Why do mortals always feel obligated to state the obvious?’ thinks the woman.

“I see. This is some fine work you’ve done; I’ll make sure to remember you next time I need something done.”

She pays the man, puts on the cloak, and leave the boutique. Once outside, she cannot help but smile, the article of clothing cost her many pieces of her collection, but it’s unlike anything she had before; it was made specifically for her, following her directives.

She feels greed, lust and all kinds of feelings being directed at her.

‘As though it wasn’t enough that this place is full of miasma and grudge, now I also have to deal with their disgusting reproductive instincts.’

A long time ago, she wasn’t so averse to the deed, but her past role disgusted her from any and all sort of relationship.

She walks faster to avoid the approaching men and girls?... This one has far more greed than lust, and she’s smeared in grudge and miasma. She isn’t alone, there are many more, observing her from afar and stinking the atmosphere and some of them feel quite murderous.

‘This is why mortal are such a nuisance; they don’t know their frigging place.’

She continues toward the gate, doing her best to avoid the unsolicited courtship and the even more annoying followers skulking around.

Trying to leave the city at this hour was probably a mistake, but she cannot bear to stay much longer in this miasma filled city, surrounded by greed and lustful humans.

She thinks resolutely, ‘Next time, I’ll use a demi-elf to commission the work for me.’

She nevertheless perseveres and waits in line, she might need her identification again in the future, and leaving it behind seems to generate all sorts of annoyances.

A few steps behind, on the vehicle side of the gate, two Ox drivers start a fight, releasing even more miasma in the polluted city. This was the last straw, the atmosphere becomes heavy, the air shimmer, and the miasma and grudges drip to coalesce into the Unliving.

‘Moronic mortals… And where are the demons when you need them? Slacking on the job? No, I’m probably giving them too much credit; without someone to lead them they couldn’t fight their way out of a paper bag.’

As she entertains such thoughts, people die all around, it’s none of her concern but it could make taking back her identification tricky.

Right beside her, a monster rips a person limb, and as the blood splashes on her, the dead’s grudges cling to the unprotected cloth and infect it with miasma.

She looks at her treasure in shock and horror, ‘You damn piece of shit! I hadn’t had it enchanted yet!’

The scene of carnage doesn’t bother her, nor does the blood, but the venomous feelings stuck to the cloth are something else entirely, she’ll need a powerful shaman or a demon to remove the stain.

She yells in an ancient language, “Prepare to become my punching ball you little piece of shit!”

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Hitting the creature does them no harm, the Unliving do not feel, do not think; they’re just an accumulation of grudge unleashed upon the world. She doesn’t care though; she isn’t trying to kill them, she just passing her nerve on the nearest target.

From outside the gate, a guard calls to her, tell her to run away, but whatever the mortal want is none of her concern; she has a target for her vengeance, and she won’t stop until she’s relieved her stress.

The shadows have no interest in immortals, but if one keeps on hitting them, sooner or later, they’ll fight back. Not that it matters, weak attacks like theirs simply slip harmlessly around her.

<><><>

Some stupid bastards came and killed her targets before she had calmed down, and now she has trouble stopping herself from releasing her pent-up rage on the nearby idiots.

The officer looks at her with a troubled look, unlike his men, this one got a pass, no lust, no greed, no envy, just pure concern about how to deal with her.

As she mulls over what she needs to do, a young man speaks to her, and this one got a pass too, no extraneous feelings, only pure gratitude.

“Milady,” says the youth, “I am Fidel, and my father the baronet, would be delighted to make your acquaintance. My humble self would also like to offer you his thanks, your bravery saved many today.”

She stares at her cloth, booking an appointment with a demi-elf shaman will take time, and if she threatens them to get what she wants, it’ll hinder future dealings with them

“Pardon my foolishness, you cannot meet father in such a state! There are baths and maids in the castle to take care of yourself and your clothes.”

‘Take care of my clothes? Do they have a powerful priest around? Whatever, the blood stinks and a bath would be nice.’

She doesn’t really believe there’ll be a priest powerful enough to cleanse the stain on her cloth, but she asks anyway, “Cleansing?”

“Yes, Milady.”

She nods in approval and the youth calls for a coach to carry them to the castle.

<><><>

The bath was nice, and the maids did a wonderful job to clean her, but she can’t say the same of her clothes; they still give the same ill-feeling.

‘The damn skivvies only removed the blood. It’s not like it was hard, a damn bucket of water can do the job!’

A maid guides her to a room in the castle, and it’s the most stupid place she’s ever seen. Some moron thought it was a good idea to put a protective spell around the walls to protect it from miasma; brilliant idea, now the grudges are neatly accumulating into a big nice curse.

“Introducing, Sylva Inimica” announces the chamberlain.

Sylva looks with apprehension at the accumulated grudges; her presence is causing them to transform into a curse faster than normal.

“Lady Inimica, your service to our town were great, and many citizens owe you their lives. If there is anything in my power, I can do to repay you, please ask.”

Sylva looks at the lord, then at herself. Her mouth moves but no sound comes out.

‘I already had a bath, and they can’t cleanse my clothes… I don’t really need anything more from them.’

“Would a knightship be of interest to you?”

Knight is a human honorary title; it doesn’t mean much anymore and isn’t accompanied by duties most of the time. She doesn’t want to associate with humans more than necessary, but they have some good craftsmen in town.

The lord asks his nearby help, “Go fetch me a blank.”, too low to be heard by a normal person, but she’s all but normal.

‘He’s getting cursed… He doesn’t seem that bad of a person, but the greed and lust he’s throwing at me now are so freaking annoying.’

“A blank, as in a p-blank?”

“Yes, hurry!”

The curse is driving him crazy, and he’s making her the first target of his madness. Unlike miasma and grudge, a curse that has taken hold is something she can deal with. She dispels it and asks “Why would my self-serving actions, deserve a reward?”

Her question is genuine; she doesn’t understand the way of mortals, but she is sure that normally recompense involves an exchange of work or something like that.

“What do you mean?” answers the baronet, unsure.

“Do you give a treat to cats every time they hunt a rat? I did what I did because it was my nature, and because I wanted to.” Dealing with this crap is too much; she decides to redirect his attention on someone else. The nice man from earlier was speaking about helping the victim’s family, so she proposes, “If you really want to offer a recompense, give it to the families of the guards who died protecting the citizen. Unlike me, they acted for the good of others and beyond their duty.”

The curse dispelled, sanity comes back to the baronet, she feels his disgusted at himself, “You are wise Milady, selfishness corrupts, and those deserving should be the one receiving rewards.”

“I am thankful for the lesson, noble Elf. Is there really nothing I can do for you?”

She keeps her answer for herself, passing for an Elf is beneficial, but she can’t help but scream internally, ‘Who is an Elf; asshole?’

Instead, she answers, “All is good as long as I may enter the town.”

“You will always be welcome here, Milady, same for your people.”

“Then all is good. I bid you goodbye, sir.”

“Please, allow me to accompany you to the gate… Was there someone waiting for you at the gate? Will they still be here at this hour? Do you need a coach?”

She sends a quick mental message to her servants, the only two beings she truly cares about in this world and smiles, “There is no need, I’ve already warned them, and they should be waiting for me.”

<><><>

Early evening, in the slums, men and women gather in an abandoned warehouse reconverted into a meeting room. Today was a catastrophe, many of them died uselessly, and their target got away. Admittingly, after getting the cloth it would have probably degenerated into a bloodbath, but at least a few of them would be rich.

“There you are, I’ve had a terrible day, and it was all your bastards’ fault for skulking around!”

It’s the target and the precious loot, but the aura she gives is something else entirely; they are frozen by fear, like rabbits staring at a serpent.

A man burst in flame, another disappears in a flash of light. A man and a woman standing near a window, and out of her sight manage a few steps before an invisible force sends them back to the middle of the room with such power that their body hit the ground with a spattering sound.

“I’ve accumulated a lot of grudges today, so I don’t mind getting more.” explains the monstrous Elf as she slaughters them one by one.