V S M Old Habits Die Hard

Beatrix III

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Jaina stormed through the city in a torrential downpour that always seemed to be the choice of weather for Lodis. She hugged her chest as she made her way through the streets, the rain masking her tears.

She has done nothing but use me. I hate her for it.

Then why do I feel the urge to save her.

Seventeen was right. I need to make up my mind.

I still love her…I just…I want her to love me too.


Fresh tears rolled down her face which had been scrunched into a scowl. She reached the tower where her room was located and proceeded into the torch lit hallway. She had gotten soaked, but the woman did not care. Jaina rounded the spiral staircase to the floor she was on and proceed past the maids and live-in butlers ignoring their pleas to remove her drenched clothing. Her hair was soaked and adhering to her face. Taking a key from her robe she unlocked her door and proceeded into her room.

“Took you long enough.” Stephen said, leaning against the windowsill.

Jaina wiped her face and adjusted her robes, as if to gird herself against his comments. Ignoring him she kicked open her trunk and began piling her clothes and items into it. Her staff rest in the corner of the room by the bed.

“I believe she loves you.”

Jaina stopped in the middle of the room with a pile of books and scrolls in arms.

“Really? What makes you say that?” The sorceress seemed to perk up a little.

It was hard to miss. Jaina obviously loved Beatrix a great deal. She was simply confused about her place in the blood mage’s heart. She was terribly upset that her lover had put her through such an ordeal without even a consideration about how she might feel about it. Jaina felt used and there was nothing she could do to make that feeling go away. She was hurt.

“Beatrix is an asshole. We all know this, but I’ve seen how she looks at you. She looks at you differently. Normally her gaze is filled with contempt and judgement, but when she looks at you it reveals a deep sense of respect. You’re the first person she calls for when she needs help.” Stephen explained.

“Just something to think about.”

Fresh tears had welled up in the sorceress’ eyes. She fought them back and continued packing her bags. Once everything had been placed in her magical trunk, she closed it and snapped her fingers. With a flash of arcane energy, it disappeared. Grabbing her staff, the woman made for the door.

“We have a lead. Whatever Beatrix was researching was obviously nefarious. Either way. I feel like we should follow up on it in the very least.”

“You think they’ll let us into Zamara without Beatrix in tow?”

It hurt just hearing her name. The conflict swirling around Jaina’s heart made her feel uneasy all the time. Anxiety plagued her mind. She swallowed and cleared her throat before opening the door.

“I believe I can persuade them, yes.” She answered, exiting into the hallway, Stephen in tow.

“Well hold your horses because I’d like to pack my things as well. I have some stuff to do with Gavin before I leave.”

Jaina realized that she had been rude to the only person she had left and turned beet red.

“Okay. I will take a bath. Just…just let me know when you are ready, Stephen.” The woman remarked, an embarrassed look on her face.

She proceeded past Stephen and descended the stairs towards the bath. One of the maids welcomed her with a warm smile.

“Bath today, Miss Jaina?” The older woman asked.

Proudmoore could not find her words and just nodded.

“What’s the matter, dear?” The matronly woman said, stoking the fire for the bath water.

Jaina couldn’t control her emotions anymore, her lips trembled. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she stood awkwardly in the doorway.

“Come in, deary. We’ll get you nice and clean. You’ll be okay.” Her maid said walking over to her.

Taking Jaina by the hand she drew her into the room and proceeded behind her to remove her cloak. Unclasping it she removed it from the blondes’ shoulders and threw it into a corner by the door.

“I’ll see these washed for you, honey.”

She removed Jaina’s rain drenched robes and carefully pulled them down off her person, making sure to get her arms out. Placing them over a chair by the fire to dry the maid moved back to the sorceress, spinning her around. She tugged on the straps of the blondes form fitting garment and undid it before spinning Jaina back around.

“Up!” She ordered, raising Proudmoore’s arms over her head, pulling the shirt up off her waist and down her arms before finally freeing the sorceress.

Jaina held up a hand and waived off the maid, putting her hands behind her back and undoing the clasps on her bra. She let it fall to the floor. Slipping her fingers into the waist of her panties she slid them off and tossed them to the side. The maid took a bucket and filled the metal bathtub with hot water. The sorceress stepped in and sat down, hugging her knees to her chest. Taking another bucket, the matronly woman dumped it over Jaina’s head which made her squeak in shock. She did not care though. The warm water felt as if it could melt away the stress and the anxiety she had been feeling. The bath maid poured a couple more buckets of water into the tub until the water was up to Jaina’s stomach. Grabbing a stool, the maid sat behind the tub undoing the braid in the sorceress’ hair, grabbing a cup of water to pour onto it every so often.

Proudmoore buried her face into her knees and cried softly. She stopped only when she felt a warm sponge on her back.

“C’mon, deary. Tell old Alice what troubles ye.”

Jaina poured her heart out to the old woman bathing her. She told her everything. From how she met Beatrix, to saving her life, to their relationship, Beatrix’s husband dying, to the siege, all the way up to the mana bomb and her lover leaving. She felt like a terrible person crying so much, but the sorceress could not help it. She sobbed uncontrollably through her story as Alice washed her.

“You’ve had a tough time, deary. Anything worth doing is going to be tough.”

Jaina wiped away her tears as the woman scrubbed her legs.

“Do ye think this Beatrix just didn’t know how to love ya?”

“What do you mean?” The sorceress asked hugging her clean legs back to her chest as Alice threw a fresh bucket of hot water into the tub.

“Losing a spouse is tough, deary. I’ve lost two. First and second husband to two different wars.”

“Two!?” Jaina put a hand over her mouth in visible shock.

“Yes, deary. Two.”

“H-how did you find love again after the first?”

“It’s extremely hard, Miss Jaina. You lose a piece of yerself when a spouse dies. A piece you can never get back.”

Jaina listened, wide eyed.

“I think your love didn’t know how to accept that her husband had died. So, she took it out on the closest person.” Alice explained, having sat down scrub Jaina’s face.

“Just something to think about, deary.” The maid said with a smile, bopping Jaina on the nose with a soap covered finger.

“You’re all set, Miss Jaina. Take as much time in the bath as you need, my dear. I’ll be in the next room should you need anything.”

Alice left a pair of towels on a chair by the fire to warm up and proceeded to pick up the sorceress’ clothes and head into the laundry room.

Jaina slid her butt forward in the tub and sank herself lower into the water line, her chin resting on the surface. She felt relaxed and without anxiety for the first time in weeks. Her eyelids drooped and she rested her head back against the metal tub, watching the crackling fire in front of her.

Please be safe.
 

Beatrix III

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TRIGGER WARNING - ABUSE/TORTURE
This posts contains a scene that could very well trigger some people. Jaina is dreaming. She is not in any actual danger. Please take care when reading.

Jaina thrashed about in her sleep. The sorceress had finished her bath and donned one the night gowns that Beatrix had picked out for her. At first the blonde had not been able to sleep, so seeking aid from the many things she caried in her pouch she took a sleeping pill that she had acquired from Cevanti. Within minutes she was out…

Jaina shot to an upright seated position as her bedroom door was kicked from its hinges. She covered herself with her arm, summoning an arcane orb into her hand. She stopped once she saw who stepped through the doorway.

“Beatrix!?”

It was the redhead, but something was not right. Half of Beatrix’s body was covered in bright red glowing runes that looked to cause her flesh to flake away and float about her person. Her red eyes were ablaze with an intense red energy. A toothy grin spread across her face.

“W-what happened!? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Something was wrong. This wasn’t Beatrix.

The mistress leapt towards the bed and grabbed one of Jaina’s legs, pulling on her. The sorceress shrieked in fear, trying desperately to scoot away. She managed to kick off the blood mage, who ripped the sheets from the bed before going around the side.

“Beatrix. Stop! You’re scaring me!”

A gauntlet covered hand wrapped itself around the sorceress’ throat and pushed her down. Another hand ripped the gown that Jaina was wearing open.

“Please…stop.” The blond choked.

With her free hand Beatrix gripped Jaina by the hair and pulled her from the bed, dragging her across the floor towards the door.

“Stop! You’re hurting me! Stop! Please!” Jaina pleaded.

Tears flowed from the sorceress’ eyes as she clawed at Beatrix’s hand to let her hair go. Dragging the blonde to the stairs the blood mage threw her down them. Jaina tumbled her way down the spiral staircase, landing hard on the bottom floor. She tried her best to crawl away, but a heavy boot landed between her shoulder blades and pressed her to the floor. The redhead gripped Jaina by the foot and dragged her into one of the many bathing rooms. The tub had already been filled to the brim with water. With one hard tug Beatrix slid the sorceress towards the tub and slammed the door shut.

“This is your only chance. Tell us about your blood magic, heretic.” The redhead spoke, her voice distorted with magic.

“What are you talking about? I don’t use blood magic!” Jaina sobbed.

“Liar!” The redhead backhanded her lover.

Beatrix grabbed hold of the sobbing woman’s hair.

“You will tell me what I want to know!” She screamed.

“Please. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Just let me go! Let me go!” The sorceress was crying uncontrollably.

Lifting the blonde up, Beatrix spun her around and knelt her over the tub.

“This is your last chance. Tell me where you obtained the blood magic.” The Mistress commanded.

“Please! I don’t know! I don-“ Jaina’s words were cut short as her head was forcefully dunked into the water and held down.

Her lover had applied her weight to keep the sorceress down and Jaina could not lift herself out of the tub. She began to thrash as best she could, the air leaving her lungs. After what seemed like a lifetime Beatrix ripped the woman from the water, leaving her to wretch water onto the floor.

“You ‘re lying to me.” The blood mage said. She had drawn a blade and placed the tip above Jaina’s heart.

“Just let me go. You’ll never see me again! Please!” Proudmoore pleaded through her tears.

Knocking the blade to the side the sorceress sent an arcane blast to her lovers’ chest. She sprang to her feet and made for the door. She cried out in fear as she felt a gloved fist grip her hair again and wrench her back. Reeling around the sorceress charged another arcane fist and threw it at her lover. Beatrix caught her hand and immediately the arcane energy fizzled.

“I thought you loved me!” Jaina spat.

With a scowl the Mistress backhanded her lover again.

“You don’t get it do you! Think for one fucking second!”

Beatrix buried her blade into Jaina’s stomach up to the hilt forcing the blonde to scream at the top of her lungs in pain.

***​

“Wake up, Miss Jaina! Wake up!” Alice said, trying her best to restrain the flailing blonde.

The sorceress finally awoke to find herself on the floor of her room in the arms of the woman who had bathed her. Tears ran down her cheeks as she came to the realization that she had been dreaming. She burrowed her face into Alice’s arms and cried.

“She was going to kill me!”

“It was just a dream, deary.” Alice said rubbing Jaina’s back.

“Let’s get ye back to bed. Come now.”

Alice lifted her up to her feet and guided the woman back to her bed. Pulling down the covers she helped the sorceress climb in before pulling the blankets up to her chest.

“Try to relax, deary. Alice will keep watch at your door all night.”

Jaina pulled the covers up to her head and buried her face into her many pillows. How could she sleep after that? It must have meant something. Beatrix would never do that to her. Her lover would never violate her trust in that way. Fresh tears welled in her eyes as she rolled over onto her side.

She told me to think. Something must be wrong.
 
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Android XVII

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It’d been just a few days since the revelation had fallen upon the two that Beatrix had long since left the sanctuary provided by the Kingdom of Lodis. As Gavin Duchenne (having ‘fully accepted’ his Lodian inheritance in lieu of his adopted Meranian identity), Seventeen had literal access to everyone and everywhere within the walled city. All he had to do was play the ‘crown prince’ card and most people would be willing to do what he needed. The fact that they had spent two weeks publicly executing traitors in the town square had certainly also served to bolster his aura with the folks who lived outside the sprawling castle complex.

While he had spent much of the time trying to guard and learning from the old king, the majority of his time away from the court had been used lately to enrich his understanding of Zamara, one of the largest cities in the region of Laconia.

Roughly three days removed from the conversation with Jaina involving Beatrix’s journals, Seventeen once again found himself heading back to the private suite that the woman enjoyed as a personal adjutant of the ‘crown prince’. As he entered Jaina’s quarters, the cyborg immediately felt that something just felt wrong in the air. There was an unnatural heaviness all around him as he wove his way through the chaos of books and notes that lined the foyer. He found a ghostly pale Jaina sitting in a chair near a window. The white-haired woman’s eyes were a thousand-yard stare that Seventeen often found associated with soldiers suffering traumatic breakdowns.

“You… you good, J?”

It took her a few moments to respond, but when she did, Jaina simply shook her head from side to side without breaking her gaze away from the empty corner of the sitting room. “She’s in danger,” she turned her brow wrinkled. “‘J’?”

“I mean, you can call me ‘S’,” he replied with a broad, stupid grin. “Then, when we’re out there looking for Beatrix, they won’t be able to track us with our normal identities.”

Jaina, who still seemed more bemused than anything, gave her head a slight tilt before replying. “You won’t think our faces might give away our identities?” Before the sentence had even left her mouth, Seventeen had already shapechanged into a version of Gavin who wore an outfit that was strikingly similar to those clothes worn by the raven-haired cyborg. “I don’t think the ‘Crown Prince of Lodis’ will blend in very well in Zamara.”

Seventeen shifted his appearance once more. This time, he took on the appearance of a scowling, battle-hardened warrior with the eyes of a killer and a head of black hair. “How’s this?” he spoke in an almost sinister voice as he adjusted the conjured battle armor. “I feel like this would pair really well with like… a gladius? Or two?” He inquired as he looked around for something metal.

“You’re not going to melt my cutlery with your mind again,” Jaina interjected as she stood up from her chair. “And I’m not saiyan that’s a bad costume, but you wouldn’t fit in with the Laconians.”

Reverting back to his normal appearance, Seventeen fixed his leather jerkin as he scowled at the woman. “You want to actually tell me what that stare was all about now?” He asked as he casually slipped in front of the only exit.

“She’s in danger,” Jaina reaffirmed as she paused to collect and process her thoughts a little. “I had the most vivid and terrible dream.”

It was now Seventeen’s time to don the guise of confusion. “Are you hiding some clairvoyant skill set from me, J?” He drew a step closer to her and narrowed his eyes as he lifted a finger and threatened to poke her in the side of the head. “Is that where you get all that encyclopedic knowledge from?”

Jaina gently swatted away her friend’s finger and glared some of his sass away. “I get that knowledge from years of dedicated study, you… knit.”

Seventeen chortled as he put up his hands. “Uh oh, she’s using foul language.”

“Stop,” the sorceress grumbled as she maneuvered around him and into her foyer-slash-study. “We need to prepare for Zamara.”

Hands on his hips, the machine-hybrid followed the woman and sat down in a small chair next to her. “We have rides, don’t we?”

“What do we do once we get there?”

“Kill the bad guys?” Seventeen said, fishing out the necromancer’s necklace from his pocket and holding it up for the woman to see. “We have this necklace and all her journals and stuff.”

A faint smile spread across the sorceress’ visage. “That’s how you wind up having to portray a crown prince for the rest of your life, Stephen.”

The cyborg scowled. “It’s okay to be jealous, Jaina,” he leaned in a little closer. “I can loan you some of that good cutlery if you want it.”

She put a hand on his forehead and pushed him away, but even as she did, she had to smile, and that was really the only point of the cyborg’s antics. She might just be starting to realize it, but he knew from the start that the woman loved her estranged blood mage companion. He just hoped that there was still a Beatrix for Jaina to love. “What’s our best route to reach Zamara?” He asked. “Something tells me that we might be able to get away with not having to cut through the forest this time around.”

With her eyes now glued to the maps, Jaina drew her friend’s attention to a line of yarn she’d pinned to the parchment a day or two earlier. “This is a trade route. With the recent… issues in this region, it’s fallen into disuse, but I believe we can shave at least two days’ worth of travel off our journey by sticking to this route during evenings and through the nights.”

Seventeen nodded his head. “Makes sense. Travel by night and camp by daylight. That seems to be our schtick,” he set the necklace down on the map. “What about this part of the plan? Do you have a list of names you could parse from the translated ciphers and records from Warren?”

Before she replied, Jaina reached under the tablet and pulled out—for all intents and purposes—a three-ring binder bound in leather instead of plastic. Flipping open the cover, she set it down next to the map and slid it across to the cyborg. Perhaps seeing the obvious question on the man’s mind, Jaina spoke before he had a chance to say something snarkier. “The color coding is done to differentiate between tiers of reliability, and the red are connections to these strange, corrupt monsters that have been cropping up in the countryside near the Idrisids.”

The machine-hybrid masked his initial response behind a clearly faked cough. “Nerd.”

“Excuse me?” Jaina said with a clearly exaggerated smile. “I couldn’t hear you.”

“I said this is very thorough!” Seventeen replied as he rifled through a few of the sheaves and saw that Jaina had addressesses, occupations, estimates of schedules, and a number of hand-drawn images. “…did you draw these?” He muttered as he looked up from the binder.

“Of course,” she replied matter-of-factly as she retrieved the binder, closed it up, and placed it next to the map. “Can you … not?”

“Draw?” Seventeen asked. When Jaina nodded, he rolled his eyes as he threw open the binder to a page that featured a full body drawing of a woman eating a sandwich. “This is like…” he couldn’t find the words, so he just gestured at the highly intricate drawing.

“It’s a penciled image giving us the best visual representation of this individual,” Jaina stated. “I did the majority of these in the span of an afternoon.”

“Uh huh,” the machine-hybrid muttered as he closed the binder. “So when do we head out? Should I ready my bird?”

“Tomorrow should be best,” his companion replied. “If we don’t lose any time, we’ll reach Zamara on the sabbath, which will make it a little easier or us to slip into the city.”

“Love me some religion.”

“That’s good,” Jaina replied, seemingly missing the context of the remark. “We’ll likely have to attend some sort of procedures or functions if our cover there stretches out over a period of time.”

“I’ll pack my frock,” Seventeen chuckled.

“How extensive is your wardrobe?” Jaina inquired with no hint of snark or sneer to her voice.

He wanted to smile and make fun of the woman, but he also knew she was going through enough in her life. “I have outfits for all occasions, J.” He replied before gesturing toward the kitchen. “Omelet? I haven’t eaten.”

She followed him into the kitchen, and at least three and a half omelets passed into glory that morning.
 

Beatrix III

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Jaina enjoyed her time in the mess hall with Stephen. She had wolfed down several omelets and a few plates of bacon. Seventeen had been unphased by the amount she had eaten, something about Saiyans or something. The two had departed the mess hall together happily stuffed with food. Jaina let out a loud belch as they headed back to her room. She held a hand to her mouth, color rushing to her cheeks in embarrassment.

Damn, J. Seven outta ten.”

“Oh stop.” She said with a smile, pushing him forward.

It was not until she felt…unpleasant below the belt did she slow her pace. She adjusted her clothing, and the feeling didn’t go away.

Oh god…what day is it?

“Meet me at the stable, Stephen. I need to change into my riding clothes.”

“Alright. You…okay?” He asked, thinking of the blank stare he had seen earlier.

“Y-yes.” She stammered.

With a flustered sigh, the color filled her cheeks again. She did not want Stephen to worry.

“I have to take care of a little feminine issue really quick.”

The android simply smiled. “You do you. I’ll meet you at the stable in a few when the sun goes down.”

Jaina continued to her room, feeling grosser and grosser with each step. She entered her room and went to her trunk. She pulled out a nylon kit bag that was printed with the logo of Cytokine Industries and a fresh pair of plain cotton white panties. With a frustrated sigh, she kicked the trunk closed and moved to the bed, shedding her robe and pants. She removed the dirty underwear and opened the kitbag, taking out some wipes and a tampon.

All the arcane magic in the world and I still must deal with this shit.

Jaina cleaned herself up, applied her feminine product, and was back in her clothes in less than five minutes. Taking a package of wipes and an unopened box of tampons she stuffed them into her traveling satchel that was hanging by the door. With a flustered sigh, she looped the bag around her torso and grabbed her staff, heading out the door to meet Stephen.

***​

The sun had just set when Jaina arrived at the stable where their horses were kept. She looked slightly miffed. She had forgotten all the documents they needed and had to return to her room several times to make sure she had everything.

“She didn’t saddle her horse.” Seventeen said, as he walked his chocobo out from its stall.

The sorceress examined the empty stall where Slepinir had been and noticed that all the equine gear remained on the shelf untouched. She must have been in a hurry.

“We’ll find her,” Stephen reassured her as he mounted his bird.

Jaina quickly saddled her white horse without saying a word and the two of them galloped off into the night. It took them a couple nights of traveling to reach the outskirts of Zamara. Everything had gone smoothly up to this point, besides Jaina being increasing uncomfortable on her period, but that was not something she could help. She had absent-mindedly left the pills for cramping in Lodis with her stuff. As the duo walked their mounts through one of the many gates into the city, they both hoped that no one would recognize them.

Their goal now was to find a tavern with a room the two could share. After thirty minutes of searching, they found The Lighter Touch. They had a vacancy that Jaina went inside to inquire about while Stephen stabled the animals in the attached building. Money was not an issue. Proudmoore, to put it bluntly, was extraordinarily rich.

“They have a room we can share and they’re fine with you staying.” Jaina said as she emerged from within the building.

Stephen had taken the duffle bag from Jaina’s horse that contained all the documents and books they needed and was waiting out front.

“Why wouldn’t they be okay with me?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s a lesbian nightclub. I insisted you were gay and that you wouldn’t ogle the strippers.” Color filled Jaina’s cheeks.

Seventeen grinned, noticing that she was blushing.

“See something you like, J?” He jested.

“Me!? No!” Jaina protested, shaking her head.

“Doth protest too much.” He said, making the sorceress clear her throat.

“I could always just turn into a woman to fit in.” He said, tracing the female figuring in the air.

“Don’t you dare.” She said.

Picking up the duffle bag he headed for the door. “Fine! You’re no fun. Let’s go. We need to go over our plans.”

Jaina gathered the rest of her stuff including her staff and followed suit into the tavern and up the stairs to their suite at the end of the hall and to the left. Using the key she had been given, Proudmoore let them in and shut the door, locking it behind them. Placing her stuff in a corner by the bed she sat down in one of the chairs by the stained-glass window and held her stomach, a look of discomfort on her face.

“You going to be okay?”

Jaina let out a long sigh and sat back in the chair. “Yeah…let’s just get started. I need to distract myself.”

Stephen took out one of her various binders and began thumbing through it. He opened the page to one of the various women that the sorceress had drawn dancing around a pole. He turned it around for her to see and tapped the page.

“We should start with this woman. Anika Summers.”

“Why her?” Proudmoore asked.

A face of comprehension flooded Jaina’s features as she realized why. She worked at the tavern they were staying in.

“She works here.” They said unison.

The sorceress sighed. Brushing the hair from face she stood up. Tossing the key to Seventeen she took her satchel from the floor and headed for the door.

“I need to use the bathroom. Figure out how we’re going to approach her while I’m gone, and we’ll discuss it when I get back.”

Stephen gave her a salute which made her shoot him a look before closing the door behind her.
 

Beatrix III

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The Mistress spewed water from her mouth as her head was ripped from the vat of water, she found herself hanging over. Her arms were bound to her back. As the last of the water exited her lungs she inhaled sharply, laughing through blood-stained teeth.

“Your paltry attempts to torture me are pathetic.” She laughed.

“Silence!” A voice rang out.

Beatrix clenched her teeth as the sting of a whip tore into her flesh. A masked man gripped the woman’s hair and pulled her over to the water, dunking her head again. The Mistress had been trained to withstand interrogation by the Arcadian military. Each soldier was put through one week of vigorous attempts to get them to recant their vow to serve Arcadia. Those who did were expelled from the army. Those who held to their vow were promoted to active duty. Officers had it worse than common infantry. Since Beatrix had been an officer, she had been subjected to two weeks of misery. They had broken bones, torn at her flesh, and starved her to near death. Once it was over, she had been given a week off basic duty and a dose of strong healing magicks. Her injuries were cured as if they never happened, and she was shipped off to serve the military.

As water poured from the Mistress’ mouth again, she coughed, gasping for air. A firm strike to her ribs with a tonfa made her inhale sharpy as the ribs were broken. She bit down on her teeth and struggled against her bindings, her arms beginning to turn raw from the rope. A collar had been affixed around her neck and secured with a lock. The syntech brand logo was emblazoned on the side. Gripping her hair, the torturer struck the Mistress in the face breaking her nose. Fresh blood streamed down her lips and chin, dripping onto the floor. With a snap of his fingers the Inquisitor ordered his henchman to pull on the pulley system keeping Beatrix hanging in the middle of the room. She was brought to an upright position, the blood from her nose flowing down her chin and dripping onto her exposed body. They had tightly bound her bosom to her chest with bandage and given her a pair of plain undergarments that were brown with dirt and whatever else covered the floors in the dungeon.

“Come now, 11256. Just tell us what we want to know and all of this stops.”

Beatrix laughed the best she could, forcing the Inquisitor to scowl.

“You should do standup because that’s funny. Even if I were to confess to whatever it is you want, you’d just kill me.”

Beatrix spat the blood from her mouth onto the floor. “Fuck yourself.”

The Inquisitor nodded towards his henchman who picked up an iron from a fire in the center of the room. The Mistress struggled against her bindings, and he brought the red-hot tip of the length of iron close to her stomach.

“Give me anything. You can even lie.” Her captor said.

Beatrix looked down at the iron and sighed. “You’re right. I did fuck your sister that one time. She tasted really good.”

“My my, 11256. Such heresy. Sleeping with another woman?”

The Inquisitor nodded toward his henchman who pressed the iron to the Mistress’s lower stomach. She cried out in pain as her flesh sizzled and burned. After what felt like an eternity, he pulled the length of iron from her skin. Beatrix huffed in pain through clenched teeth.

“Again.”

The Mistress shot a look at the Inquisitor who wore a wicked grin. As the hot iron was pressed against a different spot on her stomach the woman let out a scream that echoed through the halls of the dungeon. Tears of pain ran down her blood covered face.

“Enough!” The Inquisitor ordered.

“You will give us a confession for your heresy, 11256.”

All Beatrix could do was growl in frustration as she tried to tear away from her restraints. The collar began to beep rapidly as the Mistress’ eyes lit up with a red energy. Her wounds began to close, and her bones began to set and mend themselves. Before any serious damage could be healed the collar stopped blinking and reached a solid color. The red energy vanished from her eyes and the healing stopped.

“Again.”

Beatrix screamed as another hot iron was pressed against her skin.
 

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Jaina returned from the bathroom and found their room empty and in a surprising state of disarray for what was only a few minutes of absence.

“Stephen?” She whispered as she reached for her waist and drew a small knife into the palm of her hand. Had someone trailed them here? Had someone already got the drop on them? Was her other only friend now destined for manacles and thumbscrews? Clothes were scattered around, as if a whirlwind had bisected the room, and Jaina’s documents were strewn erratically across a small wooden platform that likely functioned as their ‘desk’ in this unorthodox tavern.

“What happened to him?” Jaina muttered as she poked open the closet door and saw no noticeable signs of fights or bloodshed.

With the door still open, the sorcerous heard a loud ruckus from downstairs—a bunch of women laughing and among them…

The woman’s eye twitched as she slid the blade back into the hidden sheath on her waistband.

Downstairs, Seventeen tilted his head at the woman sitting to his left. “Really, bitch, you are wearing that out to the club and you think you can sass me about my bandana game?” After a pregnant pause, the woman he was smirking at and the three others positioned around the high-top table all broke out into a cackle of laughs.

“You’re a riot, S,” another woman replied as Jaina came into eyeshot of the raven-haired man.

Standing up, Seventeen waved her over. “Come join us, Little J!”

The four women all craned their neck to see a mildly confused, mildly irritated Jaina Proudmoore making their way to their table.

“Oh this is Little J?” One of them asked.

“She’s tall.”

“Look at those clothes! How provincial-chic, I looove it!”

“Where do your hair styled? That’s so on-point, Girl!”

Before Jaina could even settle into the chair, two of the women were already ogling her hair and clothes, prompting a faint shade of red to flare up across her cheeks.

“T-t-thank you, I do it myself,” Jaina muttered as she politely tried to get the women to stop touching her hair and clothes. She then turned her eyes across the table, which she just now noticed was littered with the empty carcasses of about three dozen margaritas and glared two holes into a sneering Seventeen. “What are you doing down here in the club… S?”

Not one to shy away from his companion’s clearly ruffled feathers, Seventeen finished off his drink and slid another across the table to Jaina. “I was just telling these ladies about how I took a weekend away from Dan to come track down our friend, B.”

“Dan?” Jaina asked.

Seventeen winked just subtly enough that only the sorceress took note of the gesture. “My beau, J. Did you pre-game upstairs or what? You’re such a silly little bitch,” he added with an open mouth laugh that got the gaggle of women giggling and cackling a few moments later. “So, J,” Seventeen said as he reached across and grabbed her by the wrist. He then gestured at one of the women at the table—a brunette in her mid-30s clad in a leather teddy. “Did you know that Anika actually works here?”

The woman flushed at the sound of her voice. “It’s really just a part time job,” she replied, even as she leaned forward over the table and gave some of her ringlets a playful toss.

Jaina flashed her friend a nonplussed reaction that conveyed an ocean’s worth of subtext to the sneering cyborg. “She does now? How fascinating.”

“I know, right?” Seventeen replied before pausing as the waiters deposited a round of salt-ringed tequila shots and slices of limes around the table. “She was just about to tell me all about this city’s shady lil’ gossip rag.”

Untrained in the art of slang and not well-versed with metaphors in non-academic or non-magical settings, the blonde could only furrow her brow, upon which someone mentioned she not do that because it made her look older.

“A rag,” Seventeen chuckled. “Apparently, there’s someone in high society here who keeps tabs on everyone and has no problem sharing everyone’s darkest secrets or shames with the rest of society.”

“Oh, I see,” Jaina said after lowering her fingers from a now entirely relaxed forehead. “That’s … a bit strange.”

“Strange?” One of the ladies giggled. “It’s so savage, and we looove it here in Zamara. This person, whoever they are, takes no prisoners. It’s why no one has ever been able to figure out who authors the letters and stories.”

“Fascinating,” Jaina muttered as she and Seventeen shared a silent moment of eye contact before both slipped back into ‘social engagement’ mode. “I want to hear allll about this,” the sorceress asked the woman to her left. Upon hearing the exaggerated tones of his companion, the machine-hybrid laughed as he held up an arm.

“Another round of tequila for me and these thirsty old bitches!” He shouted, eliciting a round of cackling cheers from Jaina, Anika, and the other three members of their table.
 

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Sheets of rain pelted the city of Zamara just as the sun began to crest over the horizon. Loud claps of thunder boomed as lightning ripped through the sky. Jaina was passed out on her bed surrounded by several naked women. Various empty bottles of alcohol littered the room and the bed. An abnormally loud clap of thunder woke Jaina from her slumber. She rubbed her eyes to focus her vision. Squirming in her spot she slowly began to realize that she had been drunk and she was surrounded by some of the women from last night. Thankfully the sorceress was still in her bra and panties. That meant she hadn’t solicited these women for a carnal affair, right? Right?

Pulling herself up to a seated position, Jaina peeled away one of the women who had been using her stomach as a pillow. Crawling her way out of bed the sorceress retrieved her bag from beneath the pile of clutter and removed a fresh pair of panties and a tampon. With a pained sigh, she exited the room and made for the bathroom. Upon fixing her feminine problem she stood at the mirror and took stock of her appearance. She had slept in her makeup and now her face felt gross. Taking a washrag from the rack on the wall she dunked it into the sink and began scrubbing her face. When she was sufficiently happy that all her makeup was off the sorceress set out the cloth to dry and exited the bathroom.



***​

“After her!” A voice echoed.

Beatrix sprinted through the dungeon halls avoiding the guards who were slowly converging on her location. She may not have had her blood magic at her disposal, but the Mistress was still a killing machine. One guard had the unfortunate luck of trying to knife her. Not only was that man dead, but he had provided a source of equipment for the redhead. As the Mistress climbed a set of spiral stairs, she heard the clambering of metal shoes beneath her. Running headlong into a patrol Beatrix pushed past and into an underground mess hall for the guards stationed there.

It was full of soldiers.

“Detain her! Do not kill her!”

With a wicked grin, the blood mage rushed forward and sank her knife into the throat of the nearest guard. Ripping it out she spun around and sank it into the temple of another man. The room descended upon her, armed with non-lethal weapons. For being outnumbered sixty to one, the Mistress did well, but it was inevitable that they’d be able to get her back into irons. Beatrix let out a frustrated scream as they wrenched the knife from her flailing hands and dragged her back down into the depths of the prison complex.

***​

It was now mid-morning, and everyone had descended into the closed tavern to get some coffee and breakfast only available to those living there. Jaina had wrapped herself in a simple morning robe having taken a few pills for her pounding head. The sorceress had both hands around her cup of coffee that she was nursing.

“Little hungover, J?” Anika said with a smile as she sat down at Jaina’s table.

Stephen was at his table, cackling with the ladies who surrounded him.

“So, tell me…” Jaina started, taking a sip of her coffee. “Tell me about this person who comes around asking for information on everyone.”

Anika chewed on her bottom lip before taking a drink of her own.

“She comes around every Thursday and demands that I tell her everything that I’ve heard from the previous week. Any rumors, any newcomers, places they’re headed, descriptions. Anything I can think of that might help her. She asks specifically about something called parademons. She always asks about them and if anyone had heard of them.”

Jaina took another sip, processing the information.

“So, she’s trying to control the flow of information by using informants throughout the city. Does this woman have a name?”

“Luna,” Anika replied, picking a piece of bacon off her plate and crunching on it.

Jaina took out her notebook and flipped open to a page of her notes and began scribbling everything she had been told into the pages.

“Can you describe her?” The sorceress asked, opening to a blank page.

“Yeah.”

For the next thirty minutes Anika described the appearance of Luna, who appeared to be an information broker on the lookout for knowledge regarding something called ‘parademons.’ Once they were done Jaina sighed and slumped into her seat.

“Eat some food, Miss J. You’ll feel better!” Anika said with a smile.

Jaina looked down at her plate of eggs and bacon. Taking her fork, she cut away a piece of the omelet and put it in her mouth.

“If I may interrupt your schmoozing for just a second, S.” She spoke through a mouthful.

“Want to try that again without food in your mouth?”

Jaina rolled her eyes and swallowed, taking a drink of juice. “I think we should stay here and attempt to ambush this Luna and get her to answer our questions.”

“What’s your interest in all of this?” Anika said, crunching on another piece of bacon.

“We’re following the trail a necromancer left for us in her notes. Something is happening with the council of Zamara and we intend to find out. Your mention of parademons is troubling because it’s not the first time we’ve heard about them.”

Jaina took a sip of her coffee. “Have you heard of the Meranian and Idrisid Kingdoms? They both have armies investigating the rumors and the fact that both Kingdoms thought that it warranted a heavy military presence concerns us.”

Please be okay.
 

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“Hi! My name is Jaina Proudmore, and my qualities include: Telling strangers in a city of vipers my secret plans… and fondling ladies of questionable morals.”

Jaina turned sharply and scowled toward her companion, who merely responded by frowning right back at her for a few moments before he tried to turn his attention back to drinks and breakfast with his table. Before he got more than two sips and a bout of stupid laughs back into the conversation, the sorceress once again interjected.

“So how did your night go?” Jaina barked across the pub toward her traveling companion, who fell silent mid-laugh. “Make any nice company?” She added with a toothy smirk that Seventeen would have got an actual rise out of under other circumstances.

***​

“Fuck. Me.”

Seventeen stared down at the dead priest for a few moments before glancing around to make sure no one had noticed him. Then, with a swipe of his hands, he teleported the body inside a crawl space under the church’s overly elevated pulpit.

“Father Minkah?”

It was dark. By the time the cyborg had turned around, he was wearing the face and clothes of the same creepy priest who had given him leery eyes just a few moments earlier. “Yes, my child?” Seventeen croaked, trying his best to impersonate the old man’s wavering tones.

“I thought I heard some shouting… are you well?”

Seventeen-as-Priest nodded his head slowly. “Yes, my child. I was simply communing with…” The cyborg paused mid-sentence and blinked a few times as his brain gears starting to jam up. “With… Uh.”

“The All-Father?”

The cyborg snapped his wrinkly fingers and nodded his head. “Yes, of course, my child. The All-Father.”

“I thought that the All-Father only speaks from the chamber beneath the Cathedral of Zamara?” The young woman’s brow narrowed slightly.

“Well, you know…” Seventeen’s lips twisted up for a few moments before he threw out a hand and blew off the top half of the girl’s skull. “Why do people keep doin’ this shit?” The machine-hybrid groaned as his appearance shimmered and reverted back to its scrawny, pallid self. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved a little notebook and flipped it open to a page he had dog-eared earlier in the night. With a little pen, he scribbled out the name ‘Father Minkah’, added the annotation of ‘Cathedral? All-Father’ and proceeded to stuff the little booklet back into his trousers.

“What’s next?” He spoke softly as he reached into the breast pocket of his tunic and slid out the watch. It was a little beyond four in the morning, which meant he probably had a couple more hours before ‘Little J’ dragged herself out from a tangle of limbs and started looking for him. “Then again, she might already be one coffee into a morning workout with her archival texts.”

Understanding that time was of the essence, Seventeen took one final moment to adjust his night clothes before heading toward the rectory portion of the church. In his original plan, he had hoped to simply slunk around the priest’s apartment and find some clues connecting him to either the necromancer, the informant, or Beatrix. Instead, the man had been practicing tomorrow’s sermons out in the church proper, and he hadn’t been enthused to hear the cyborg rifling through his drawers through the thin back wall of the church.

“He had creepy eyes anyway,” Seventeen muttered as he gave a final look at the platform that house the corpse. Closing and locking the side door, the cyborg waved his hand and telekinetically willed the room back into its original setup. “Did I ever used to not clean this way?” He asked himself as he carefully wove his way through the two other rooms of the rectory. Once those were all properly sorted, Seventeen slipped out the rear door and closed it behind him—no orbing out here, in the dark of night.

“A blacksmith, right?”

***​

“Oh, you know,” Seventeen laughed before taking a long sip on a Bloody Mary. “Went to bed earlier. The whole lesbian sex thing just isn’t my style,” he added with a forced chuckle that got the rest of the ladies at the table cackling once again.

“Uh-huh.” Jaina furrowed her brow and kept eye contact as she impaled a clump of eggs and slipped them into her mouth. “You’ve got mud on your boots.”

Leaning backwards to glance down at his legs, the cyborg saw what the woman was talking about and gave a laugh. “Silly J, that’s not mud. That’s just dried blood.” For some reason, the women sharing breakfast with Seventeen just laughed right along with him, as if the actual context of what was funny had completely passed them by. “I do want to tell you…”

You can cross off Father Minkah and Reginald Scalders off your lists.

Pray tell why… S?

They both, you know. They both left town, I guess.

And the blood is?

Cut myself shaving, or did you think I just maintained these bare arms and legs through sheer force of will alone, Love?


Seventeen gave her a stupid wink as he took another overly long sip of his Bloody Mary. “Is it 10 AM yet, Ladies? Is it time for mimosas, you stupid bitches?”

“Yas!”

“Praise the All-Father and let’s get it!” A second woman said with a faux groan as she finished off her own drink and smacked it down playfully onto the table. “Next round!”

The other woman laughed and cheered, and on this occasion, it was Seventeen who stood silent and made a mental note of the turn of phrase as the pair's originally straightforward plan continued to branch with every passing hour.
 
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Jaina had left Seventeen alone up in the belfry for roughly a half hour. When she poked her head up through the trap door that led to the summit of said impressive little church tower, her nostrils were immediately assailed by the familiar scent of freshly dead man.

“What the hell?” The sorceress half-whispered, half-seethed as she pinched her nose while pulling herself up into the apex of the belfry. The corpse resting in the other corner was an old man dressed in robes and sporting both a bald head and a deep, scalding burn wound straight through the center of his chest. “I literally just left you alone for a little bit!” She rasped a little louder as she reached around the bell and smacked at the man’s shoulder.

“He came at me!” Seventeen declared as he held out his hands. “What was I supposed to do? For all I know, he could have had a gun under those robes… or he could have been some death cultist or super monster!”

Jaina craned her neck to look back at the hatch, and her eyes caught the pattern of where the scorched pitter-patters of blood had fallen. Leaning back toward the exit, she lifted it, saw the blood, and turned back to her companion. “You shot him while he was still climbing up the ladder?”

The cyborg shrugged his shoulders like any small child with no remaining excuses for their actions. “I’m sorry, but I’m just on edge,” he mumbled as he fished out a crumpled-up piece of paper from his satchel. “Plus, I think he’s one of the people on your list, so it’s not like he was a good guy!”

With a frown, Jaina unfurled the sheet of paper and skimmed its contents. The woman got about halfway before her scowl deepened and she glanced over at the man. “Did you rip this out of my binder?!”

“Shush, keep reading and prove my point!” Seventeen whispered as he gestured toward the bottom of the sheet.

Jaina’s expression shifted slightly as she reached the end of her own notes. “… Father Judicus harbors vices that include drink, sadism, and…” the woman twitched as she tried to politely fold the paper back up.

“I was right, wasn’t it?” Seventeen spoke with a silent grin. “He was the creepy pedo priest, wasn’t he? There’s always one, isn’t there?”

“Hush,” Jaina rasped. “It doesn’t change the fact that you’re sloppy. How many priests have you killed in the last twelve hours?”

“That’s between me and, uh... god.”

“You’re not religious. You’ve said before you come from a world where ‘goofy demigods and their ogre accountants police the dead’.”

“I never said that.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Prove it.”

“I don’t have my diaries with me.”

Seventeen frowned. “Did you get the goods?” He muttered, which prompted Jaina to roll her eyes and open her cloak to reveal that she was now wearing the habits of a nun. “Where’s the silly hood thing?”

The sorceress reached under her arm to produce the coif and scapulars that would complete her disguise. “I don’t know why we have to dress like this. We could just wait until the dead of night and just sneak into the underground.”

“Have you been down into the underground of the Zamara Cathedral?” Seventeen asked. Even as the words escaped his mouth, he felt there was a fifty-fifty chance that Jaina was going to tell him that she’d found some way to scout the area or secured old blueprints ‘a few days ago’. Instead, she shook her head as she gestured to the corpse. “Is this the part where you steal his robes or something?”

Seventeen frowned as he waved his hands and orbed the corpse of the priest high up into the rafters overhead, where it’d be hidden for at least the next eight or twelve hours. With a snap of his fingers, he adjusted his appearance to match that of his blond companion, who had shed her cloak in favor of the hood and shoulder garments.

“How do you look better in that than I do?” She muttered as the waifish man adjusted the hood to sit nicely on his head.

“Confidence, Little J,” Seventeen sneered as he gave her a wink and gestured to the ladder. “Let’s go… the sooner we get down there and find out the secrets. Something smells off about this whole situation.”

“This whole town smells terrible.”

“That’s not…” the cyborg just let the sentence go unfinished as he followed Jaina down the ladder that connected to the little stairwell that would then lead them to the courtyard adjacent to the cathedral.

“It’s through this door,” Jaina whispered as she hastily tiptoed across the courtyard to a plain woodened entrance. Swinging it open, she stepped over the threshold and gestured for Seventeen to quickly follow her into what was a very rustic laundry room, complete with drying racks, wash basins, and a variety of brushes and other implements that the cyborg didn’t quite understand. “There’s a door on the fall wall that eventually connects to a hallway that attaches to the convent on one end and the main church on the other. Do you have any idea where access to this underground cloister might be?”

Seventeen moved through the laundering chambers and calmy opened the door that led to the connecting passageway. “I haven’t the slightest idea, and while I doubt there are signs to lead the way, it’s my guess that our best bet is back near the main church. This place isn’t top-secret, which means it probably isn’t hidden behind a bookshelf. There’s probably a stairwell behind the church itself or maybe over near where the men sleep.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jaina muttered as the pair calmly made their way toward the center of the cathedral’s sprawling complex. While both were dressed like they belong there, neither wanted to arouse suspicion, since they were still wandering around close to midnight.

“That in this patriachial religious structure, I imagine that the dudes who run this place probably have access to the underground god chambers close to where they are.”

“Oh,” Jaina muttered as the pair snuck out into the vacuous and unlight room that housed mass.

“Follow me,” Seventeen whispered as he slunk to the far side of the rectory and had to quietly snap the handle on the far door. Jaina kept silent as the two entered another hallway and then found themselves breaking one last door that was labeled in simple letters ‘Catacombs’.

“Is this one of those jackpots you occasionally mention?” Jaina whispered as she glanced around Seventeen’s shoulders and down to the dark landing of the stone stairs.

“Yes,” Seventeen grinned as he adjusted his dress and motioned for her to follow. “I think this is the hard part, though. Let’s go.”

Quest: An Arbiter’s Plea
Jaina (Beatrix – NPC) and Seventeen
Post Count: 1145 (A17)
Quest Counts: 1145/2500 (A17) | 0/1000 (Jaina)
 
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Seventeen wasn’t quite sure what he expected when they stepped off the stone staircase and into what could best be deemed an ‘oppressive’ environment beneath the Cathedral. In his brain, he had concocted an image of a few badly lit hallways with some aged masonry. In reality, it almost felt as if the pair had stepped out of the Middle Ages (as if this whole planet wasn’t Medieval) and right into a cave system a few stories north of Hell itself.

“Is this hewn from the stone?” Jaina’s remark came after she’d traced her fingertips along a segment of the corridor’s walls. After stepping away from the landing, the stone masonry had given way almost immediately to what would barely qualify as hallways: poorly smoothed and almost trapezoidal passages. Every foot or so, they ran across an alcove that contained a variety of disassembled skeletons strewn with all the various accoutrements one would expect to see on dead monks and priests.

“It looks like it’s cut straight out of the earth,” Seventeen answered as he peered ahead. Behind him, Jaina took a moment to unfurrow her brow, shake off her partner’s lack of the finer points, and followed him up to what seemed to be a bunch of lashed-together wooden boards. “Was I the only one expecting a little more pomp and circumstance?” As he worked at the corners of the makeshift door, Seventeen turned and glanced at the woman. “My daughter once found a whole underground cathedral. Pews and paganistic stain glass paintings… the works! We break into Pedo Central Station and all we got are some shitty mining tunnels.”

Jaina, who had initially been prepped for another of the man’s rambling tangents, found herself snapping back to reality near the end of it. “Wait, you have a child?”

After gently snapping the wooden panels away from the walls of the tunnel, Seventeen glanced back at Jaina. “Two. The daughter’s the one who fell back in time, though. The other one I think died in his early twenties. Then again, his sister likely created a fractured timeline, and who’s to say what would have happened then, y’know?” He suddenly paused and turned to Jaina with a face painted with intrigue. “You sound like you probably know something about timelines and shit, right? You have a vibe.”

The sorceress was accustomed with the notion of travel between worlds. She was accustomed to travel through physical space through teleportation and portals. Time travel? “I can’t say I’m familiar with the notion,” she finally mustered, which prompted a now scowling Seventeen to pivot and resume his trek down the hallway. The man had noted something slightly off-putting in the woman’s posture, but even though he was more than prepared to push her on what was a clearly strained lie, he was cut off by her next question. “You want to go into more detail about these children you have?”

Even in the near darkness of the tunnels, Jaina saw Seventeen shrug his shoulders a few paces in front of her. “It was a while ago,” he muttered. “On some nights, I wonder if it ever really happened. My mind wanders, and I’m left with this feeling as if I have someone else’s memories in head. As if those memories that I know are real are actually just dreams of something that never was,” he glanced back at her for a brief moment. “I think it’s because I’m probably dead, y’know?”

“We’re alive.”

“Are we, Jaina?” Seventeen muttered as he gently shoved his way through some metal bars. “My last memories of the before were the yawning nothingness of a blackhole… are you familiar with the concept?”

“Yes, I know astronomy. A collapsed star. Region of spacetime where gravity is so powerful that not even light can escape.”

“Now, I was dead to begin with, when I tore out that dragon’s heart.”

Jaina continued to follow her companion. At this point, it almost seemed as if he was talking aloud simply for the sake of it, as if he needed to voice some thoughts out into the open air… give them substance.

“I was cognizant enough to know what was coming as the scene faded to black,” Seventeen muttered. “That was my swansong, y’know? Back from the dead. Reunited with the best friend. Kicked some alien ass. Chased a dragon into space. Punched that fucking dragon through a fucking star.”

“You’re embellishing.”

Seventeen paused to poke at a skeleton that had a gem for a left eye. He glanced back at the woman and smiled. “I’m not,” he spoke calmly and without a shred of embellishment. “Blondes in my… ‘universe’ could literally tear apart reality if they got made enough.”

“Beatrix would shudder at the thought.”

The cyborg snickered. “Who knows, she might like the bruises.”

“True,” Jaina spoke as her companion started back down the tunnel.

“I think I see an actual door ahead of us? Maybe.”

Quest: An Arbiter’s Plea
Jaina (Beatrix – NPC) and Seventeen
Post Count: 825 (A17)
Quest Counts: 1970/2500 (A17) | 0/1000 (Jaina)
 

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The moment he stepped over the threshold, Seventeen felt something crush against his chest. In an instant, he was suddenly standing a few yards behind his own corporeal form, which remained frozen in place near the threshold of the inner sanctum. Next to him, a confused Jaina found herself unable to traverse what seemed to be an invisible barrier in the doorway.

“I didn’t recall having this in my skill set,” the cyborg muttered as he shimmied around himself and stepped into the room at the heart of the cathedral’s underground. While he had expected something more grandiose, his expectations quickly started to sour as he noted that this just looked like a room hewn poorly from the surrounding stone and clay. “Strangely anticlimactic,” he added under his breath as he trod into the center of the chamber.

While there was little in the form of landmarks, he did spot what seemed to be some markings on the far wall. As he drew closer, he noted that they seemed to be little more than archaic cave paintings. Much like his own world’s variation of the art style, these bordered that soft spot between real-looking objects and utter nonsense.

“They didn’t quite capture the scene as well as they thought they did.”

At the sound of the deep voice behind him, Seventeen craned his neck to see that he had been joined by an ethereal shape. As the miasma drew closer, it partially solidified, taking the shape of a wide-shouldered man in full plate. Bald but with a wide smile, the translucent figure gestured toward the corner of the mosaic. “In its infancy, the moon of this world was more volatile… it would break apart and the pieces would rain down periodically onto the surface.”

“How was a moon volatile?” Seventeen asked as he glanced at the collection of etched and crudely painted images.

“Creating astral bodies isn’t as easy as it looks.” At that, the cyborg pivoted and furrowed his brow at the man, who lifted his hands in defense. “Hey, Terry never learned astronomy.”

“I don’t think I follow.”

The plated man shook his shoulders soundlessly as he panned toward the far end of the panorama. “The shadows over there represent the darkness, which has always existed since the Crossroads in one form or another.”

Seventeen tilted to see around the figure and saw that Jaina and he were still standing by the threshold. “What is this, anyway? Am I dead again?”

Another smile beamed from the man’s ebony visage. “You’re not dead, Seventeen, but you were … highlighted.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Old threats are brewing, and there will come a time when the Crossroads will have a need of people who are willing to defend it. People who would give their lives for not just the greater good but simply the continuing survival of this collection of worlds.”

“How do you know I am any of those things? I’m a mercenary who cavorts with a lunatic and her lesbian librarian lover.”

A hearty laugh escaped the man. “You can play the highwayman all you would like, but someone who would get themselves blown up several times for their friends isn’t likely as rotten to the core as they might want to believe.”

“Don’t turn my actual deeds against me,” Seventeen huffed playfully as he stared at the amorphous, angry-looking shape that represented ‘the dark’.

“Just remember,” the spectral man replied. “That the darkness will come in many shapes and forms, but you will know its corrosive influence when you see it. Be ready for it, otherwise you might also be unmade.”

“Un-what?” The machine-hybrid asked as he turned around. Instead of the translucent paladin, he was staring at an empty room.

“By ready, Seventeen.”

He opened his mouth to reply to the disembodied voice, but before he could, Seventeen was suddenly on his ass and staring at a closed door. Just to his right, a confused Jaina was staring down at him.

Quest: An Arbiters Plea
Post Word Count: 665
Total Word Count: 2635/2500
 

Android XVII

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Just to clarify -- in the event that I fail the quest, I'll just rewrite the prior posts, which I hope is aight

They were a few hours removed the underground of the cathedral. Because he couldn’t quite explain what he had experienced in such a way to appease Jaina, the woman had essentially left him alone in their room while she pursued some leads. He didn’t mind, as the entire incident had drained his constitution to a historic low. If anything, he had welcomed the silence of their room, and the swaying stacks of books in the light breeze from the window had helped usher him into a nicer sleep than he had experienced in a few weeks.

It was from that sleep that he suddenly found himself jostled a few hours later.

“Wake up!”

He flailed his limbs to get the woman out of his face, but she merely leaned out of arm’s length until he had opened his eyes and pulled himself into a seated position on the old mattress. As the haze of sleep started to subside, he noticed that his companion was a little more disheveled than normal. In the dim light of dusk, it even seemed like she had mud spattered all over her body and caked along her arms.

“You’re dripping mud all over the damn floor,” Seventeen grumbled as he rubbed his eyes. “They’re going to charge us for that.”

“We need to leave.” Without waiting for a response, Jaina had turned away from the cyborg’s bed and started to magically coalesce her litany of books and traveling materials into packed containers.

With his vision mostly back to normal, Seventeen hopped out of bed and quickly noticed that the ‘mud’ Jaina had pitter-pattered everywhere was more red than brown.

And it had a distinct, iron-laced aroma.

“Blood?” Seventeen mumbled as a frantic-eyed Jaina craned her neck to stare at him. “They are definitely gonna charge us for this cleanup, Little J!”

“Why are you so laconic?”

“We left that place months ago, what do you mean?”

Jaina groaned as she slipped on her rucksack, crossed the room over to him with just a few paces, and grabbed him by the shoulder with her exsanguinated fingers. “Teleport us out of here. Quick!”

“I prefer you to wine and dine me a little beforehand,” the raven-haired ne’er-do-well chuckled as he picked up the clear sounds of some sort of scuffle breaking out on the first floor of the inn. “Where’s the blood from?” He asked as the bar down below was torn to pieces. Angry screams wafted up through the floorboards as Jaina came close to growling the words into his face.

“They’re coming for us!”

“You, most likely,” Seventeen smiled. “What did’ja do? Did you react to a situation poorly?”

“Worse.”

“Oh?”

“I reacted like you would.”

Seventeen threw his head back in a laugh as the pair vanished in a swirl of blue and white light particles. As the orbs fizzled into the great, dark nothing, the door to their room was knocked off its hinges by a group of frothing-at-the-mouth peasants armed with various garden implements.

Outside the limits of the town’s watchful eyes, the pair rematerialized a few yards removed from an intersection in the forest. Jaina, who should have been more acquainted with teleportation by this point, still found herself stumbling into a nearby tree to catch her balance.

“We’ll have to circle back and retrieve our rides before we leave this place,” Seventeen spoke softly as he stepped off the path. “I assume we have a destination?”

“I found a traveling merchant from a town call Hillgrove,” Jaina answered. “He worked the trade routes between here and there, and he made mention of a transfer of individuals a few weeks ago. He said they were criminals, and after a little more convincing, he did mention how one of them was redheaded.”

“That could be anyone.”

“A redhead shackled in anti-magic bangles.”

“It’s a huge world… you know there might be more than one ginger wizard.”

Jaina rolled her eyes. “With a c-cup.”

“So, we’re down to like, a couple hundred thousand?”

“Tattoos from the Arcadian military.”

“A couple hundred?”

“Of Beatrix’s old unit markers?”

Seventeen shrugged his shoulders. “Can’t be certain.”

At that, Jaina punched him. “Shut up.”

The man glanced down at his chest and laughed. “Okay, so that’s why you went into a life of magic and books, eh? Makes sense.”

“Just talk us nearer to the damn stables.”
 

Beatrix III

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The sound of a lock and tumbler echoed inside of Beatrix’s cell. The heavy metal door was pushed open, revealing a dimly lit corridor. Two armored guards entered, grabbing the redhead and removing her chains from the wall. Dragging her to her feet they marched her out of the room. Beatrix could barely walk, the two armor clad men had to mostly drag her down further into the dungeon she was being kept. The collar around her neck had rubbed her skin raw. Painful blisters had formed beneath the piece of off world technology. The Mistress hadn’t eaten in a few days. They had been starving her out to get her to bargain for food. The redhead had checked out mentally, but she hadn’t broken. She didn’t know how long she had been down here. It felt like years. The only positive experience she had was when her captors sent a maid to remove her dirty clothing and rebind her chest along with a set of clean panties. The maid wouldn’t look Beatrix in the eye. She had tried time and time again to get information out of her. She had cried, begged, and pleaded, but the woman would slap Beatrix on the body with a riding crop to order her to stand still while she worked.

The Mistress felt gross. Her hair was filled with dirt and dried blood. She hadn’t shaved in quite a long time. Her legs were more than fuzzy. She hated having pubic hair again. The long haul down the corridor came to an end and the two knights drug the Mistress into a room with a table and a chair. They forcefully sat her down, cuffed her to the metal table, and as a parting gift, one of the guards cold cocked her, splitting the redheads’ lip open. Beatrix dabbed at her bloody lip as a door opposite her opened, revealing the same Inquisitor she had been dealing with the entire time.

“My my, Beatrix. I hear you haven’t been eating your rations. Tsk tsk, young lady.” He removed his robe and draped it over the chair opposite her. Placing a file down on the table he withdrew a steel braided whip from his belt and lashed out at her, causing the blood mage to reel in pain.

“You. Will. Eat.” The Inquisitor demanded.

He removed a cloth pouch from his belt and opened it. Removing a chunk of white bread and some cheese he slid them over to the Mistress who just stared at the food before her.

“Should I have Biske get the branding irons ready? Or are you going to eat?”

Beatrix looked up at her captor and then down at the food. She took the bread and tore a piece from it. Inserting it into her mouth she chewed.

“Good girl. Now. We have many things to discuss.”

The man sat down at the table. Beatrix had pulled her knees to her chest and was huddling on her metal chair. Opening the folder, the Inquisitor slid several photographs for the Mistress to examine across the table.

They were mostly of Jaina. One or two were of Stephen. They had even caught a glimpse of Jaina while she was bathing.

The Mistress picked up the photo of her lover bathing and held to her forehead. Beatrix began to break down and cry, only for a moment, before she crumpled the picture and tossed it to the ground. They were going to pay dearly for spying on Proudmoore. She wasn’t even sure if blondie loved her anymore. The only thing keeping Beatrix going was the possibility to getting to hold Jaina again.

“I see I’ve struck a nerve. Well…she’ll have her turn here in our little facility. In due time.”

Jaina? Here? NEVER!

Beatrix tugged at her chains and growled in protest. “You’ll never get your hands on her. You will die by my hand before she ever comes close to this place.”

The Inquisitor laughed. “Still prattling on about how you’re going to kill us all, are you?”

“You’re not that strong, Beatrix. Your blood magic hasn’t fully taken form yet. We could cure you…” He trailed off, pursing his lips.

“We’re going to torture and kill you instead. You know how these things work. The Council does what the Council wants. You are going to tell me everything you know about her and this…” The Inquisitor looked down at a piece of paper. “Stephen.”

“I’ll never help you find them.” Beatrix growled.

“Oh come now, Beatrix. You said that about your blood magic. Enough pain and you’ll spill everything like a good girl. We just need to find your weak points on this topic. It appears this white-haired sorceress is a weakness. We’ll start there.”

Beatrix took another bite of her bread, locking eyes with her captor.

“What is her name, 11256?”

Her number.

Beatrix remained quiet, instead choosing to chew on her bread.

“I’m giving you this chance to cooperate with us, Beatrix. If you cooperate, I can see that you are given a chance to bathe. Maybe give you a night or two with a soft bedroll.”

He pointed his finger down at the picture of Jaina.

“Only if you tell me who she is and how powerful her arcane magic is.”

The redhead shook her head and took a bite of the cheese.

With a sigh the Inquisitor sat back in his chair and adjusted his robes.

“Ser Haldrick, can you come in here for a moment?”

The door to the room opened and an armored clad knight stepped in, closing the door behind him.

“Yes, Inquisitor?”

With a gentle nod in Beatrix’s direction the Inquisitor said, “Hit her, please.”

The knight hesitated for a moment before walking over to the Mistress and punching her in the face with an armored fist. Blood ran down from Beatrix’s now broken nose.

“Again, Ser Haldrick.”

The knight struck her again, blood now dribbling down her chin and onto her chest and legs.

“Inquisitor, she’s bleeding.” Haldrick protested, but the Inquisitor shook his head before nodding.

“I’m sorry, miss.” The knight said before bashing Beatrix in the jaw again.

The redhead spit out a tooth before returning to an upright position in her chair.

“You don’t need to sorry, Ser Haldrick. She’s a convicted war criminal. You do not sully your honor by beating her.” The Inquisitor formed a toothy grin as the armored clad knight left the room.

“I know by the way you reacted that you love this woman, Beatrix. I know because I’ve been doing my job for over fifty years. You have tells’. You have things that give you away. I’ll admit. You are the strongest soul I’ve ever had the pleasure of…correcting. However,” He trailed off and slid the pictures forward.

“She is a criminal just as you. She will be punished and executed as is your fate. The only difference is that if you tell me where she is now…I can promise that she won’t suffer…much.”

Beatrix met the Inquisitors gaze through her matted red hair and spit blood onto the floor in protest.

***​

Jaina and Seventeen had successfully reclaimed their mounts and had ridden through the day to the town of Hillgrove. The sun had just dropped below the horizon as they pulled onto one of the main roads leading towards the town center.

“Looks like there is a tavern down by the plaza. We can stay there while I ask around. If she truly was wearing anti-magic shackles…that means the mage hunters found her. She should be a bit easier to track. We just need to find people who hate mages.”

“Did you just suddenly forget that you are one, J?”

Jaina rolled her eyes and kicked her mount in its haunches. The two of them rode up to the large one-story tavern and dismounted.

“This time YOU get us a room. I’m going to check the bounty board.” Jaina said as she tied her horse to the post next to a water trough.

Stephen said something in response, but Jaina ignored him. She approached the bounty board looking for anything that might lead her to the hunters. The blond sorceress came across a flier.

“Repent! Magic is heresy! The Council of Jad is seeking willing volunteers to hunt down and detain those deemed heretics.”

Folding the paper up she slid it into her cloak and raised her hood just as a gentle rain cast itself down upon the town.

“That must be where she is. The City of Jad.”

***​

“WAKE UP!”

Beatrix was startled awake from where they had tossed her onto the floor of her cell. They had spent two hours branding her in various locations around her body before she had passed out. The Mistress rolled onto her back and looked up at…Vladimir?

Vladimir Zulenka II stood over his captured wife with a look of disdain upon his face.

“Did you not learn anything from me?” He bellowed.

“This is another trick. I won’t submit!” Beatrix crawled her way to a corner and curled into a ball.

“You take and you take from those who love you. What you did to Jaina was heartless.”

“I KNOW! I KNOW! I know!” Beatrix shrieked into the darkness.

“There is always another way, Reichgeist.” Vladimir knelt to examine the shell of a woman his wife had become.

“You use my name, but you do me a dishonor by throwing away your life. Your drinking, your self-destruction, and careless abuse of the only person besides me who ever truly loved you.”

Tears ran down Beatrix’s dirt and blood-stained cheeks. She sobbed.

“I taught you everything I know. You throw away your life…and for what? There are people who care about you, Beatrix! There is always another way. Always.”

Vladimir was now screaming in anger at her.

“You storm off and run headlong into mage hunters who you know damn well have the means to kill you and everyone you care about. How dare you use my name.” He spat.

“That wasn’t my intention! Please, Vladimir! I’m doing my best!” She pleaded.

“I love you.” He said, with a softer tone. “It pains me to know that you’re throwing your life away. You knew that the mana bomb had been a source of trauma from Jaina’s past, and you did it anyway. Stop…taking everyone down with you. If you want to die and to sink, do it alone, but stop dragging those who love you so much into your pit of despair and self-hatred.”

Vladimir stood up and turned to leave.

“I’ll never stop loving you, Beatrix. Get your shit together, love. No one else can do it for you. Remember…”

“There is always another way.” They both said in unison.

As he vanished Beatrix jerked awake. It had been a dream. The redhead curled up into a ball and began to sob.
 

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They rode throughout the night to reach their destination. While Hillgrove had been a nondescript hamlet nestled on some eponymous hilly groves, the City of Jad was a whole separate… ordeal. Encircled by dark, foreboding walls made of buttressed stone, it was less a nestled pocket of society in the vast ocean that was the Hinterlands and more a pocket of militarized fanatics who sought to enact their twisted view of reality on all willing and unwilling warm bodies within a few days’ march.

“Stay awake and alert, Girl,” Seventeen whispered as he dismounted his chocobo. Salsa, her expression a blend of unease and exhaustion, nodded her head as the cyborg fished out a hand of Gysashl Greens and dropped them into the little baggie that served as the bird’s feed bag. She was smart enough to dip into the pouch when she needed it, and based on her look, that’d be a few moments after he was out of sight.

“This looks genuinely awful,” Seventeen spoke softly to Jaina as they edged their way through the brush about a half mile from the city’s shadowy limits. “Like we’re going to trip some spotlights if we breath too heavily in that place’s general direction.”

What made matters worse was that the sun was already starting to rise above the horizon. If they waited any longer, they’d have to try and slip into the city undetected and with the sun at their backs.

“Best entry route?” The cyborg muttered as he turned to look at his companion. Over the last thirty-six hours, the woman had become increasingly unhinged. Hillgrove had been an episode of neurosis and an untenable degree of shifting moods that had left Seventeen’s head spinning more often than not. Now, with their objective so close, she seemed to be almost transfixed.

“I’ll…” her voice trailed off as her reddened eyes darted erratically down the walls. In other times, Seventeen would have pointed out the obvious difficultly involved in their task, but he felt like this was an occasion to keep his sass to himself. “I can create a…” She seemed to be stumbling through her words at this point.

“No distraction-making for you,” Seventeen replied as memories of mana bombs started to dance around in his head. “I’ll do the stupid thing.”

“Are you sure?”

By the time he had turned to look at Jaina, Seventeen had taken the appearance of a skinny, ginger-haired man with a goatee. “They’ll never know it’s me, Lil’ J.”

With that, Seventeen was off, leaving Jaina to watch as the man started to shoot ki at the walls and up into the sky.

As the city’s equivalent of klaxons started to wail, Jaina made her way in a mad dash toward one of the smaller portcullises they had scouted out during their circumnavigation of the city.

***​

Two hours later, Seventeen sat in a pub named after a duck. He wore no disguise, and he waited near the far end of the bar for Jaina to arrive. Near the onset of this grandiose adventure, they had devised a number of protocols for situation like this, and their meeting place after an erratic separation would always be ‘water hole named after a duck, lighthouses, or knights (bonus points for use of the term sentinel)’. A few drunkards and a town crier had provided him with a list of Jad’s eleven bars and taverns, and this was the only one that fit their criteria.

As he sat and sipped his flagon of three copper pence ale, Seventeen continued to casually scan the front entrance for the sorceress. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that she’d wind up making her way through the damn sewage grates, and that meant she’d take a while to find fresh clothes and lose any heat she may have gained popping up out of muck holes or whatever places this place used to process waste.

“She could have just run faster and used that little river they get their fresh water from…” the cyborg spoke into his frothy, piss-flavored beverage as he took another small mouthful of cheap booze.

With his gaze still focused on the door, Seventeen didn’t quite hear the muted thud of boots approaching him. When those pale, pallid fingers dropped onto his shoulder, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“You know there’s a back door, right?” Jaina whispered as she leaned onto the counter next to the man and shuffled a hood over her still dank hair.

“Totally,” Seventeen grumbled as he drank and stared at the woman from the corner of his eye. “We need to move.”

“What did you find out?”

“Something in the city square. One of the less sober denizens of this place called it a ‘bitch burnin’.”

Jaina was heading toward the front door before Seventeen could stop her and talk anything remotely addressing a plan. By the time he caught up to her, they had traversed a fifth of the city and found themselves near the rim of a large mob in the central square. On a platform far away, a collection of female vagrants was strapped to posts. Someone was reading something from a scroll that was indiscernible over the roar of the crowd, and the large man with the black hood and axe didn’t make this seem like a family affair.

“No!” Jaina shouted as Seventeen grabbed her by the shoulder.

“We can’t rush in!” He yelled as he fought to keep the woman from bulldozing into the crowd of roaring, half-drunken citizens.
 

Beatrix III

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Seventeen gripped Jaina by her corset at the stomach, his other arm wrapped around her to keep her by his side.

“Stay here, Jaina. If we interrupt now, they’ll just kill us all. We need to find a way…”

Tears streamed down Jaina’s face. She couldn’t look away. Stephen’s words were lost on her as she hyper fixated on the fact that her lover was in line to be executed. Beatrix was on the center platform with her hands bound. She looked filthy; she was covered in blood and grime from what looked like a lengthy stay in a dungeon. The orator was speaking to the crowd about war criminals and magic users who had strayed from the path of righteousness. How all mages had to be eliminated or controlled lest they take over and destroy the world.

“We have to save her!” The sorceress pleaded with her raven-haired companion.

“Please Stephen. Let me save her.”

The situation was not in their favor. At all. Heavily armored soldiers formed a perimeter around the stage, covering both sets of stairs that led up to the top. More guards were stationed in the back of the crowd to quash any sort of riot. Even if they acted now, they’d all probably end up in irons. Stephen knew that Beatrix would want him to keep Jaina safe and out of harms way. As painful as it was, he couldn’t let her intervene. The sorceress looked at her companion then back to Beatrix. She did this several times.

“Please, we have to save her.”

“We’re vastly outnumbered and outgunned here, J.”

The executioner cleanly cut off the first woman’s head with a thud. Her head and body were piled into a prepared bonfire in front of the stage behind the perimeter of guards.

“This is where she had been all this time. She had gotten herself caught by the mage hunters.”

“Oh, Beatrix. Why did you do this?”


Thud.

Another woman was cut down, her body piled on the rest. They had finally reached Beatrix who struggled against her captors as they forced her to her feet and marched her over to the block.

“No. NO!”

There was nothing she could do. Jaina couldn’t break Stephen’s grip on her and she watched helplessly as Beatrix’s crimes were read off to the crowd. The peasants screamed for her death, chanting that she was a traitor and a heretic. The sorceress felt her heart stop momentarily as the axe came down.

Thud.

Beatrix’s head rolled away from the platform, falling to the ground and moving to the crowd. The peasants parted like the red sea as the redheads severed head came to a stop at Jaina’s feet. The sorceress had a look of horror on her face as she stared down at her lovers’ lifeless eyes.

“NO! THIS IS NOT RIGHT! I LOVE HER! SHE CAN’T BE DEAD!”

Jaina screamed in horror. She screamed at the top of her lungs. Stephen let go of her as the peasants began to flee and the guards moved in. It wasn’t until it was too late, did the raven-haired man realize that he was floating above the square inside of an arcane bubble. The blond shrieked in horror, her voice echoing and distorting with arcane energy. Her eyes had been completed enveloped in white glowing energy. The air around them began to fill with light purple particles of arcane magic. Before the peasants could get far enough away Stephen watched as every citizen began to disintegrate into arcane energy. Fiery magical energy began to swell around the blond sorceress. Searing lightning crackled around her as Jaina clenched her fists. She bit down, clenching her jaw, releasing all the arcane energy she could muster. The ground beneath her feet began to crack, rays of energy poking out from the ground.

The city guard of Jad descended upon her. The Inquisitor was shouting at his men to detain the rogue mage. Jaina couldn’t hear anything. She had been pushed too far. The mage hunters of Jad had taken something from her. They had killed the love of her life. It was in this moment that Jaina realized her true feelings. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with Beatrix. The redhead was an asshole, certainly, but the sorceress loved her more than anything.

She’s mine.”

Without warning a series of arcane bolts flew out from the blond, piercing through the chest of several soldiers and leaving them a smoldering husk of armor and flesh. Jain clenched both of her fists as her horrified shrieking was drowned out by the loud drone of arcane energy. Each of the advancing guards began to disintegrate where they stood. The armored men fled in panic but found themselves blowing away into clouds of particles with the wind.

“Remember, Jaina. Arcane energy, when channeled in vast amounts, can consume the very life essence of those around you to empower it further.”

Palaxia’s words rang through the sorceress’ mind. With a shake of her head, she collected herself and straightened her posture. The town bells began to sound as the city was put into a state of emergency. Jaina raised her arms above her head and clapped her hands together. Pulling them apart she grinned as a massive orb of arcane energy formed between her hands. Seventeen could do nothing but watch as his sorceress friend hurled the ball of energy into the platform where the execution had taken place. The structure and everyone on it, including the Inquisitor, were vaporized. The orb continued its course and plowed into a nearby tavern taking the lives of everyone inside and crumbled the building to the ground.

Proudmoore readied herself as more soldiers entered the square to detain her. Several robed individuals wielding syntech collars rushed ahead to try and contain the sorceress’ power. It was futile. As soon as they entered her personal space, they were disintegrated by the latent arcane energy flowing from Jaina’s person.

“Jaina! Stop this!” Seventeen pleaded as he pounded on the arcane bubble, he was encased in.

Jaina unleashed a short warcry and threw her arms apart causing an explosion of purple arcane energy to burst forth from her body. The encroaching guards and soldiers were thrown from their feet and ignited with arcane fire. Though the sorceress’ eyes were glowing with energy, tears were streaming down her face. Her eyeliner staining her cheeks.

“You’re never going to hurt anyone ever again!” Jaina bellowed, as held an open hand in front of her.

Forming her hand into a claw like she was something she began to pour endless arcane magic into a sphere the size of basketball.

“The horde thought they knew what a mana bomb was! I’ll show you what a real mana bomb can do!”

Seventeen stumbled a bit as his bubble floated a bit higher over the square. Sounds of screaming and agony filled the city as Jaina began to consume the life force of every citizen, every guard, every soldier, and every mage hunter.

Jaina took a deep breath as the orb in her hand finished collecting it’s required energy. She cried out the activation incantation as loud as she could…

“Vermis Ecruna Inus Acaous Kalibia!”

Jaina closed her fist and drove it into the ground at her feet.

Everything went white. Seventeen could see nothing but blinding white light. He was unsure if the sorceress was still alive or not. Slowly the blinding arcane energy began to dissipate. Stephen finally got a look at what had happened.

The entire city, walls, buildings, everything had been reduced to a smoldering crater. At the very center was Jaina Proudmoore clutching her lovers severed head. With one last goodbye she lifted Beatrix’s head and watched as it flittered away into arcane dust. The bubble holding Seventeen lowered to the ground and released him. Turning around to face her companion, he could see her tearstained face. Sweat and tears covered Jaina’s face and before she said anything she gave Stephen a warm smile before collapsing to the ground.

The city of Jad was gone.

Beatrix was dead.
 

Beatrix III

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Seventeen did what he thought was necessary. He hoisted Jaina up over his shoulder as if he were carrying a wounded soldier and whistled for his mount. To his surprise both his and Jaina’s rides came trotting along the flattened ruined earth having been spared from the blast. Stephen saddled the sorceress onto his chocobo and climbed up behind her. Kicking into his mount with his heels he sped both back towards the way that had come from; back towards Lodis.

***​

Beatrix wrenched her longsword from the enemy combatant she had plunged it into. The overwhelming roar of combat filled the air. Thundering explosions peppered the landscape as Arcadian trebuchets unleashed hell from the other side of the battle. Joining a the assault with some soldiers under her, Beatrix sliced into an oncoming group of enemy soldiers. The redhead narrowed dodged an incoming blade which sank into her right cheek on its way by. With her blade stuck inside some poor soul, Beatrix pulled a knife from her belt and plunged it into the eye socket of the man who had nearly taken her head. Twisting the blade, she ripped it out and plunged it into the throat of a man to her right. Kicking him back into his buddies she placed a foot to the soldier her blade was stuck in and ripped it free. Twirling clockwise the Mistress took a step back and took stock of the situation. Everything slowed down to a crawl around her as her experienced eyes swept her environment. Only her column had managed to stay together at the gate. The squads in the siege towers had been wiped out. The bulk of the Arcadian force hadn’t even engaged yet. Her commander always left the triarii to clean up the mess the first and second cohort got themselves into. As a member of the first cohort Beatrix was watching her friends die around her; men and women she had guided into battle for the past few years. She had been tasked with going through the main gate, which had been blown open through careful use of some substance called liquid fire.

The world came back to the redhead just as a fresh wave of infantry poured into the gatehouse. Beatrix hadn’t been able to get her unit into the gate at all. The choke point was too good. In the gatehouse their numbers counted for nothing and with the siege towers having all but failed, there was no diversion on the walls to pull troops away from the gate.

“Sir, Beatrix is being overrun. She’s going to lose the gatehouse at this rate.” A sargent said to Gavin who dismounted and drew his blade.

“Despite what General Pershing thinks of that woman, I’m not going to let us lose a veteran officer this early into the campaign. Fourth! ON ME!”

Gavin sprang forward with his blade drawn. His attendants sounded their horns and the sizable company of soldiers he was commanding began sprinting to back up the faltering line at the gatehouse.

Beatrix sliced upward, splashing enemy soldiers with blood.

“Henderson! Down!”

Her second in command ducked in enough time for her to whip a knife into the skull of the man about to kill him.

“Pay attention!” The redhead chastised.

While the gatehouse was a good choke point it worked both ways. The enemy was easier to slaughter as they poured into the structure. However, Beatrix and her troops had been at this for a solid hour. They were tired. The enemy had pushed them outside of the gatehouse which was unfortunate because it opened her soldiers up to fire from the archers on the wall. It didn’t take long before arrows began to trickle down from above. As the Mistress altered her stance to deflect an incoming strike into the soldier next to her, she heard a fleshy thud and felt a piercing pain rise from her waist. One of the bastards had hit her on her right side at the belt. Beatrix stumbled backward into the helping arms of one of Gavin’s troops who had just arrived. Fresh infantry rushed into the gatehouse easily carving away at the enemy within.

Various soldiers began to retrieve and pull people from Beatrix’s unit back from the fighting. The redhead hobbled over to Henderson who assisted in walking her back from the line.

“Covering fire!” One of the archer commanders yelled.

A fresh volley of arrows peppered the castle wall and covered the retreat of Beatrix and her soldiers.

Fuck Arcadia.

They had been sieging for six months before it ended. Beatrix’s company had seen 95% losses which had called her competency into question by General Pershing. Gavin wasn’t blind to what was going on. Her unit had been used repeatedly without so much as a break. He was almost positive someone had it out for her in high command, but he couldn’t be sure. Gavin, as the star prodigy, backed up the redhead and defended her. He was the only reason she hadn’t been demoted and discharged. As soon as she had recovered from her arrow injury she was circulated back into the corp.

Beatrix’s contract was up later that year, and she was honorably discharged after five years of service. She never got the chance to thank Gavin for his help.

Something was wrong.

She had already lived through all of this. Why was she reliving her military service? The world around the Mistress fell away and she was back inside the throne room of a crumbling palace. The redhead looked at the throne and saw a man clad in field plate wearing a red hood sitting in the chair.

“You possess the power of the Tevinter Imperium, Miss Zulenka.”

“You’re the one who cursed me with blood magic?” Beatrix asked, making her towards the man.

“Cursed!? The power of the Imperium is hardly a curse! You possess power beyond your comprehension. Power to create and power to destroy. You think yourself dead? Hah! All you must do is will it and your life will be restored.”

The man sighed and stood up.

“You have much to learn. There is only so many times I can reach out to you like this without breaking the reality of the Crossroads. You should begin to remember a location in Arcadia once you revive. Seek out the shuttered library lost to the labyrinth of the city. There you will find one of three tomes of blood magic. That is all I can offer you.”

The cloaked man pointed a finger at Beatrix. A single bolt of red lightning struck the woman square in the chest.

“BE REBORN!”

***​

Weeks had gone by. Jaina refused to believe that Beatrix was truly gone. She had spent every waking moment trying to research ways to bring someone back from the dead. Stephen had given up trying to talk her out of it. He had come to realize that this was her way of grieving. On the one-month anniversary of Beatrix’s death a powerful storm rolled in. The markets were closed and everyone inside the castle was forced to hunker down and ride it out.

Corporal Jenkins had just begun his shift and was finishing his sweep of the lower market area. He was completely drenched, having stopped under the southern gatehouse to gather himself. Without warning the man exploded in a violent display of blood and viscera, showering his fellow guards with crimson. A crack of red lightning streaked down from the sky and struck the giant pool of blood that had formed. The liquid was vaporized in a blinding flash of light that threw both of Jenkin’s comrades off their feet. Looking up from the ground they both were shocked to see a naked Beatrix standing before them, a grin on her face.

I’m back.

She felt the surrounding area with her attuned senses and found Jaina’s room. Without saying a word, she strode off into the darkness to reunite with her lover.

Beatrix was back.
 
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