Greystone Yard was by far one of the rowdiest sections of Qeynos, inhabited by the Northmen and the Dwarven races. Bawdy and crude at times, the entire area seemed like an on-going bar crawl on the surface. Giants danced with midgets while the other races slipped in and out of the district without interrupting their lives too much.
She was annoyed that they had bound her gate spell to this district, preferring the quiet of Starcrest Commune to the boisterous Yard. However, many times when she was in a hurry, she would conduct menial tasks here instead of running clear to the Commune. The headache was a small price to pay for less travel and faster return to whatever was more important than her own comfort.
Why the shouting of a Northman even caught her attention was beyond her – but she had long ago learned to not ignore such things.
Quietly, she moved up the stairs and into the apartment complex of Greystone. Following the shout wasn’t too difficult, as it seemed most of the residence were away or down below in the commons area. It only took a few minutes to find the open door, but it would a lifetime to change the events within.
The Halasian man was dressed in tanned leathers, the brown material taunt over his large muscular frame. He toward over a crumpled form of a Human woman, his heavy hands rising up only to lower themselves violently against her body as he shouted. Her simple tailored burlap clothing was torn and stained red in several spots, and her eyes slipped closed as the Teir`Dal watched from the hallway.
A young boy, barely of ten years upon Norrath, if that, ran across the room and reached out for the arm of the Halasian. He was begging his father to stop beating his mother, but was silenced when the man lifted his arm back and threw him across the room. Grasping desperately to consciousness, the boy watched his father slowly beat the life out of his mother.
Rage built within the dark elf’s heart, but she turned quickly to leave – it was a public place, the guards would surely hear the clamor and intervene, take the man to jail and his wife to the Temple of Life. She knew the priests well, and trusted that they were competent enough to raise the woman should she die here.
“Father, stop! I’ll…do this to you when I’m strong enough…stop hurting Mum!”
The world stopped for the dark woman, her eyes opening wide; the words were harmless if their tone didn’t carry such conviction. She knew that emotion well, as it had driven her to deny death and return to the world so many years ago. Her life had been spent fumbling for a vengeance she couldn’t have then, wasted with petty violence that lead to a fate worse than the loss she had longed to take back.
And now this child may experience the same.
Clenching her hands into fists, she drew in a deep breath as she gave into the screaming within her mind. They had to make this right, they had to save this child from even the chance of experiencing life as they had; the guards may come and take the man away but they could not stop him from doing wrong again later…they could not take away the helpless rage the boy would feel for the rest of his life…
Shade turned, body tensing as the rage focused, becoming a calm blanket of darkness that settled on her features; the lines of the scars deepened, and the bruises became nearly invisible on her skin. Quietly, she walked back to the open door and entered the room before silently shutting the door. Looking down at the child, she raised a finger to her lips in a motion of silence before opening her hand to cover her eyes. The boy stared at her, cheeks stained with tears and flushed with anger, an silent eternity passing before he covered his eyes with both hands.
Her hand reached out as she stepped forward, hand closing around the looping tail of the Halasian’s hair before pulling down…
“What are you doing here at this hour, Halisstrad?”
It was late, and she’d just returned home from a long day at the Brewhouse to find her mother busily cleaning up a mess of broken glass. Wanre’s hands were loosing their dexterity, her body slowly ravished by a disease that slowly stiffened and destroyed her muscles. It wasn’t the first time she had experienced the locking sensation of her body’s curse, but each time she longed for it to be the last.
Tonight, it would be.
The younger woman turned at the sound of her father’s name being spoken to find him standing in the entryway with six guards. His face was twisted with a cruel grin, eyes glimmering with Hate as he slowly walked forward into the room; his hands were locked behind his back, hidden for the moment though she sensed he held something in them.
Instinctively, she stepped forward and put herself between her mother and her father. With a nod, his guards stepped forward, their hands outstretched and reaching for the younger woman. Raising her fists, she took a firm stance against them, brining a hand into the face of the closest guard; she was still fresh to the arts of brawling, but she refused to just let them invade her home like this.
The scuffle was ended quickly, and twelve strong hands grasped her arms and legs, forcing her to remain immobile.
“I’m naut surprised you were foolish enough to thing I’d forgotten dos, Wanre,” Halisstrad purred, his voice thick with corruption. “But I’ve come to repay you for not only having her, but for raising such a worthless brat. I loathe to admit that she came from my loins, but perhaps that shall be undone later.”
With those words, he slowly pulled his hands out from behind his back. One held a crude wand and the other held a crude scepter, as though he couldn’t bring himself to tarnish anything of value. A motion, a mumbled sentence, and Wanre found herself shackled by spectral chains.
Growling, his face contorted with Hatred as he stepped forward and swung the scepter down on her shoulder. The bone gave way with a sickening crunch as Wanre screamed in pain. Without slowing, Halisstrad brought the wand down on her other shoulder several times until it too snapped with a satisfying crunch.
The younger woman struggled against the hands of the guards, screaming for him to stop being so weak and fight someone who could at least defend their self. Each battering, each sound of breaking bone, each drop of blood that spilled brought forth more anger from the girl and she screamed at the coward she’d once called father.
Finally, after the scepter shattered her temple, Wanre’s eyes grew clouded and dark as death slowly took her spirit from her body. Held up by the shackles, Halisstrad brought the scepter down again and again into the mushy spot that had been her temple, a cruel smile growing wider with each strike. His face was spattered with her blood, a few bits of gray mucus staining his fine white shirt, and his hair shaken loose from the force of his violence.
Grinning like a fiend, he finally let her body fall to the ground as he turned and stepped towards his captive audience. Lifting her face to look at his with the bloodied wand, he smirked at the endless rage within her eyes and gently press blood-stained lips to her forehead before stepping back with a nod.
“I will kill you, father,” the girl hissed before the world went black.
Within the darkness burned a fire of Hate, fueled by anger and loss. The flames spread, burning away the little innocence she had left within her soul, killing the girl she’d been for so long.
She’d died that day, and from the ashes of her life rose the first incarnation of Shade – never again would she be so helpless, at all costs…
…forcing the Halasian’s head backward, her other hand clasping his shoulder, breaking it as she forced him to the ground. Staring down at eyes wide with rage and surprise, Shade brought her knee up into his upper back with a sickening crack that was followed by an odd snapping sound. The man’s body went limp, falling back against her own as she crouched to whisper in his ear.
For a moment, she only breathed into the space between them, her eyes closed as she let the events within the room wash over her. Years of happiness giving way to years of abuse fueled by the dark waters of ale and lust, the last moments of fear the woman had felt as the man she loved took her life one rough touch at a time…the moment the child’s fear turned to rage and vengeance took root in his heart.
“Mother is the name of God on the lips and hearts of all children,” she hissed into his ear, hand still pulling back roughly on his hair. “And history has shown what happens to those who defile a God...”
With a swift motion, Shade pulled hard on the looped tail, forcing the man’s head to turn with a sickening snap. Standing, she let his body fall in a heap before the small bay window before looking over her shoulder at the boy. Despite having covered his eyes, he had watched everything from between open fingers that slowly lowered as she stared at him.
“You must go get the guards, boy, so that they may take your mother to the Temple to be healed,” she said quietly, lifting the woman’s body from the floor and gently moving her to the bed. “Tell them what you will of this – but know I could not stand by and watch you experience what I have…you deserve better.”
Opening the window, she looked back at the boy one last time. He nodded, eyes moving from his father’s corpse to the failing form of his mother before looking back at the Teir`Dal in the windowsill. Closing her eyes, she let go of the wooden frame and fell, landing in a crouch before standing to walk slowly to the docks. Looking about her as she moved, she noticed that for once, no one had been making out behind the building, her only witness a large black bird picking it’s lunch from the pile of trash left by the innkeeper.
Sighing, she turned the corner and slipped into the milling crowd.
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