[OTA] A Cave, A Qunari, and Truthlessness

[roseandthorns]

WHO: Character(s)
WHAT: A Qunari arrives through a portal, armed with only a broken spear. With her, came ten demons.
WHEN: Now? Now. Yeah, now.
WHERE: A deep underground cavern near the Storm Coast, away from the sun.
NOTES: Blood/gore, violence, self-harm (minor).

...And from it came eleven demons. Ten of what one would expect from the expanse of the Fade. Fear and Hunger, Rage burning. The green glow of the Rift illuminated the eleventh.

A demon in all Covaltan respects. Too tall, too strong and too fast to be human. Twisted spires of horns rose from her scalp, and red tattoos glimmered almost black in the green light across her pale flesh. Her jaw was set, her expression neutral.

But her eyes were wild. Feral. She clutched the sharpened, shattered haft of a spear, now cut down to be the size of a quarterstaff and a chunk of faceted, carved onyx glimmered around her throat. Her clothes were stained with dirt and grime, and blood that was not her own. Underneath all the detritus, all the collected stains on her honor, one could barely notice the bright blues and silvers of a soldier's uniform.

But none that would be found on any Thedan map. She hissed out a slow breath, falling into a routine form, a close-quarters stance meant to fend off several attackers.

It won't work. This is meant for a spear. You hold a stick against Fey. No cold iron, not even a cut length of blackthorn to banish ghosts and goblins. You'll die here. The voice in her mind chimed in sardonically. She grit her teeth, shaking her head.

No, I will not. I have not been permitted to die. And I will not allow it to be in this place of sulphur and darkness where the sun cannot bless my remains. If I am not allowed to die, that leaves only one course of action. These name-devoured BEASTS must be slain. She replied to that voice of doubt.

"Come then, Feylings. Let me show you the resolve of Covalte." She rushed in, spinning the length of splintered wood around her large hands with a deftness not belied by her stature. A demon came in, claws long and body rail-thin. It reeked of ketogenesis, of a body eating itself when no food remained. She growled, shifting her right shoulder to intercept the slicing fingers instead of her throat. Blood pooled down her sleeve, creating rosy blossoms across the stained uniform. More dishonor to her name...

No. I have no name to dishonor. Not anymore. If they see me as a beast, then at least I'll fight as one! The roar ripped from her throat with an untamed ferocity. All that hate, all that anger, all that pain from the last four years released in a constant burning intensity.

She was an overstoked furnace, metal glowing white-hot.
She was an overclocked engine, burning through fuel with little regard.
She was a screaming sinkhole, greedily tearing at the land and feet around her to fill the growing void that she had become.

She, she was a demon now. At least, to these other demons, that's what she would evoke. The training, the rigid structure of her Lucite Silver Army training slipped away like water through cupped fingers, leaving only the silt and stones of pain and frustration. She clenched that feeling and pushed onward.

A kick to the spear-haft to send it spinning into a burning chest, a wide and dangerous punch to send a skinny, clawed thing reeling. She slammed into them, again. Again. Again. They were hard as a mountain, but she was angry as a storm.

And eventually, they wore each other down. One fell first, his throat split by the shaft that stuck clean through. His burning flesh immolated the wood, leaving naught but ash. Truthless merely laughed, a sickening chuckle of admittance but not acceptance. Surely, she would die.

But not before she took every one of them down with her. She wiped a hand across her face, trying to keep the flow of blood from reaching her eyes and blinding her. Nine remained, and she was already bleeding quite heavily. But it made her feel faster. Feel stronger. Her body's fight or flight response activated at large.

And Truthless had no wings.

Her hand touched the horns and she stopped. The curious, large fingers curled around them experimentally, giving them a tug. And the laugh returned. She WAS a demon! The proof was right here, she was the monster they all thought she was. Her hands gripped the horns, sliding as close to the base of her skull as she could, and she screamed. In rage. In defiance. In the simple act of making her voice heard, at least one more time before these darkest of curtains closed on what had once been a proud, respectful life.

And.

She broke them off. With a sickening lance of pain through her head, through her brain, down her spine that threatened to collapse her legs, the horns shattered. Blood and marrow coated her fingers, but the horns were slightly grooved. A good grip, she thought sardonically. She flipped her own horns around, holding them as twin daggers of the most grim variety, and she rushed back in. The next to fall was one of the Hungry ones, twin horn-daggers plunged into its vacant eyes. Then another burning one, its heat singed and scarred her hands, crusting fresh blood into blackened carbon across her arms and chest. The next...

She stumbled, dropping to a knee.

No. No. I can't be at my limit. There's more to do. More to kill.

The seven remaining figures began to circle her, slowly approaching like carrion to a wounded hunter species. She tried to keep her eyes on all of them, but blood and sweat streamed into her vision, adding a hazy red filter that stung her eyes. A lash of claws, a burning fist. She shuddered, barely enduring.

And then the tallest one, a rail-thin body covered in viscous green tendrils reached for her. Its jaw fell into its chest and it burbled at her. It reeked of Fear. Of helplessness. It reached for her throat, its hand far stronger than one would assume for a being as thin as it was.

And as it did, she gave one last surge. One last push. Her muscles protested. Her body, drained of blood and stamina, screamed at her to stop. To let it end. To accept.

Her hands gripped at its elbow and shoulder, and she tore its arm off at the joint, turning it about and shoving it down the gaping gullet of the foul fucking thing.

"Hah... Hah... Make that... Four..." She was out of stamina, and the beasts knew it. Soon, they would begin to descend again.

Comments

[thereneverwas]

Bracing himself, eyes closed against the bright light, as the Rift and all its denizens explode, Barrow takes a beat to puff out a weary breath before responding to Ellie.

He crouches, gripping the Qunari by the side of her arm to try and turn her, frowning. "She'll have to go on your bird," he observes-- his can barely carry only him, let alone two of them. "D'you have any way of securing her?"