Chapter I – Broken Chains (Cont'd)
She could only watch in horror and pity as her own possessed body ordered her tainted rogues to hoist Cheyianne's battered and bloodied body onto the tree.
"Blood Raven! Why are you doing this!" Cheyianne screamed at her in despair.
Cheyianne's pleas were answered by guttural laughter and an arrow shaft through the knee which pinned Cheyianne to the tree.
"Please Blood Raven, you can fight them. I know you can! Please... help me!"
Her plea died in her throat when Blood Raven made an arcane gesture to the surrounding graves of the Sisters' Burial Grounds. Soil shifted, and hands emerged from the graves as corpses clawed their way to the surface from their slumber into eternal undeath. Blood Raven laughed tauntingly and gleefully, her white pupils twitching erratically, the demonic madness consuming her mind and soul. Each zombie shambled to Blood Raven and faced her in their undeath silence. "Join my army." Blood Raven gestured to the zombies, laughing with insanity, before spinning suddenly and plunging her clawed hand into Cheyianne's chest. Cheyianne's open-mouthed look of horror was her last as her heart was ripped still beating from her body...
Consciousness returned and although the throbbing pain had subsided, her head continued to reel and her vision blur. Blood Raven found her ability to control her arms and legs an alienated sensation, the possession had felt like it had been an eternity. She shut her eyes tightly as she glimpsed the decaying remains of a comrade rogue and Cheyianne, who still dangled from a withered rope from a branch of the burial ground's tree.
"What have I done..."
Tears ran down Blood Raven's cheeks as the intrusive images faded away and memories flooded back with terrible revelations of her terrible deeds. Her gentle now almond-coloured eyes widened in horror as she fought her nauseous urges to vomit. Her tanned skin paled slightly as she curled into a fetal position facing the monstrosity of her actions. The sound of uneven, rapid shallow breathing made Blood Raven start, and she glanced through her luscious but mangled raven-black hair to see an armour-clad knight who struggled with each breath.
Blood Raven crawled towards the knight, who lay upon the burial soil without his helm. An arrow shaft appeared to have somehow seared through his breastplate before lodging itself deep into his chest. The knight who was obviously once a tall, proud and gaunt man, now lay with his blond tresses soaked in the mud, his armor burnt and battered. He appeared to be upon the brink of consciousness, and with each exhale he made crimson bubbles cascaded down his cheek with the trickle of blood.
The knight turned deathly pale and his body shuddered with uncontrollable fear as his first response to seeing her.
"You...you're st...still alive!" he stammered despairingly.
Blood Raven did know how to respond as she continued to grapple with her deeds.
"Be still Sir Knight, and tell me who has done this to you?"
She grasped the arrow shaft to determine if it could be safely extracted, only to snatch back her hand back gasping in surprise.
"ARGH!" Her hand had been burnt by the wooden shaft as though she had grasped a rod of tempered steel!
She looked to the knight for answers only to notice his eyes had widened and he had been staring at her in astonishment.
"You...you...oh my...by Tyrael's Fist!" His agate eyes twinkled and suddenly the knight appeared more relaxed.
"We did not fail...we did not die in vain..." The knight's final words were only a murmur Blood Raven could just barely comprehend as the twinkle left his eyes and his stare became vacant gaze into eternity.
Wild, animalistic snarls in the close distance forced Blood Raven's focus upon her bleak surroundings. The Sisterhood's burial grounds were now strewn with toppled moldy headstones and overgrown with vines and vegetation. The solitary tree at the centre of the graves resurfaced childhood memories within Blood Raven in which she had solemnly stood, unsuccessfully fighting back her tears, during her mother's burial. She had been no more than twelve summers of age then and beside her had stood Cheyianne, of a similar age, who had squeezed her hand and pointed to the tree. The sight of the ashen tree had strangely bestowed Blood Raven then a sense of peace with its lush, slender and graceful branches. It had reassured Blood Raven that beneath its protective shade, her mother would always lay in comfort and peace.
But now Cheyianne's corpse hung moldering in decay, and the tree's twisted and warped growth evoked images of spindly, skeletal hands, and of death. Many of the graves, including her mother's, had been visibly vacated as though restful peace could not be found under the foreboding shroud of fog blanketing the burial grounds. Blood Raven swiftly turned her sight away from several putrefied corpses which lay close to the cobbled path ringing the burial ground tree. Several hundred metres further along the mossy and overgrown path, she could barely discern the shadow of a structure that should be the mysterious Mausoleum, which had stood even before the Sisterhood's occupation of the Monastery.
Blood Raven's struggle to regain her feet was enduring and painful. Stabbing shards of pain raced through her thighs and calves with each attempt she made to rise from her knees.
"Grrrrr! What is wrong with me!" she screamed in frustration as she painfully collapsed once more. For a moment her attention was distracted by a grotesque bone mask which lay upon the grass an arms-breadth away from her. Blood Raven was not familiar with any animals wielding a horned skull of such size, which could easily have been worn upon a person's head. As ghastly as the grimy pale-coloured skull was to her with its vicious barbs and narrow, slanted eye slits, she was strangely attracted to its smooth crest which curved downwards like a beak to end in a set of serrated teeth. Now she that had noticed the blood-stained mask, it forcibly transfixed her gaze, beckoning to be donned.
"BLOOOODRAAAVVEENNN! RETURRRRN TO USSSS…!" A rising unison of demonic howling began to echo within her mind as her arms were wrenched forward to reach for the mask.
"No!" Blood Raven lashed out with right foot and knocked the mask tumbling over a fallen headstone and out of sight within a growth of weeds. The mesmerizing trance broke immediately and with surprisingly renewed strength she staggered to her feet.
The pattering rain became a gentle downpour as she tenderly removed the rotten arrow from Cheyianne's knee. Blood Raven's slim athletic frame shivered in the cold, and the moisture which fell from her cheeks was a mixture of rain and remorseful tears.
"How could I have let this happen to you Chei…oh, dear Chei…" The arrow dislodged from Cheyianne's decayed body with a fine fleck of aged and dried blood. Blood Raven gazed up at her friend's skeletal visage which remained mottled with flakes of rotting flesh and fine strands of faded blond hair.
"Please forgive me, I never meant for this to happen…I wish…I wish it never did." She pleadingly whispered. But the corpse still returned her stare with its horrified expression, shadowy eye hollows and its gum-less jaws agape.
The touch of the exposed spine chilled Blood Raven's hand to the bone as she cupped Cheyianne's neck and gently lowered her childhood friend's corpse upon the damp soil.
"Dear Chei…there is little I can do for you now…You are a true Sister, and even unto death you wear the Rogue's garb…your proper restful place is within the Mausoleum…beside our greatest heroes."
In her sorrow, Blood Raven lay her head down upon Cheyianne's ruined leather tunic, oblivious to the maggots which writhed out from under the corpse's skin. For a moment, it seemed as though Blood Raven had also joined the dead, and the two slender bodies lay still upon the cobblestones, both garbed in the Sisterhood's scarlet-red, a colour signifying strength, the Rogues' fierce passion and ferocity for battle and the Cause.
Blood Raven's recitation of Cheyianne's final rites was interrupted by a ferocious snarl and the audible approach of slow, ponderous steps. Instinctively, she slowed her breathing, remaining motionless as she listened to the menace draw closer. As a young Rogue, Blood Raven's training to survive in the wilderness had taught her not to flee, but to initially surprise the feral predator, and then maintain an aggressive and intimidating stance until the animal would depart for easier prey. Her slight hesitation when she heard the snorts of several approaching animals resulted in her loss of the element of surprise. Blood Raven glanced back to get a glimpse of her assailants as she kicked out low with her foot at the nearest of the two creatures. Even with its clumsy stumble backwards, the creature easily avoided the Rogue's hard leather boot. Instead of facing a feral cat or quill rat, Blood Raven stared in astonishment at the two hideous waist-height creatures, one which continued to hiss and snarl at her. Unlike the symbolic scarlet-red of Blood Raven's tunic and leather boots, the wart-covered skins of the impish creatures were a dark shade of blood-red, their bodies covered only by filthy loincloths and adorned by brass nose rings and other body piercings. A crop of dirty black hair sprouted from the top of their heads, and mangled out into a pony tail bound by some rope.
After recovering from its stumble, the nearest imp challenged Blood Raven with a rasping shriek, and drew a rust-coated short sword from its crude metal scabbard slung in its loincloth. Blood Raven stood to her full height as the infuriated imp menacingly advanced and savagely swung its blade at her midsection. The imp's swing was forceful for the creature's size, and Blood Raven was surprised at the degradation of her reflexes when she attempted to dodge away from the slash. Before her demonic possession, she could have confidently compared her reflexes to the speed of an arrow in flight. But now, even as it had taxed all her strength to regain her feet, she did not pull away fast enough and the blade ripped her tunic, marking a short red trail just below her luscious curves. In her sluggish state, Blood Raven was thankful that the other imp still stood with its sword sheathed, gawking at her height with an astonished look upon its hideous face.
The vicious attacking imp had begun frothing with blood-thirst from its toothy mouth at the sight of her minor scratch. It planted the handle of its short sword against its waist, and made a clumsy charge at Blood Raven with the intention of skewering her upon its blade. The imp's screeching battle cry was deftly cut short when the Rogue fluidly sidestepped the advancing blade and fiercely slammed her knee under the onrushing imp's chin. The momentum of the rush reversed abruptly and the blood-red figure dropped its short sword as it tumbled backwards into unconsciousness.
Blood Raven swiftly swept up the crude iron short sword and faced the remaining imp, who now stood visibly trembling with fear, its eyes seemingly darting uncontrollably between its fallen comrade, the Rogue, and somewhere far away towards the direction from which it had first approached. The terrified imp almost leapt when Blood Raven tauntingly waved her newly obtained short sword. In alarm, it reached to draw its own rusty sword, and screeched in frustration when finding it had rusted and become jammed within its poorly conditioned scabbard. Blood Raven lowered her guard in surprise when the imp became a snarling and enraged self-rabble rolling upon the ground, its tiny taloned feet kicking into the air as it wrestled with its own sword in a tantrum. The nature and stupidity of these creatures completely disgusted her, and she gave the imp a swift boot on the backside. With a yelp, the imp snapped out of its tantrum and fled into the weeds, its frightened whimpering eventually receding into the distance.