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Sofie let the last piece of plate armour fall to the dirt beside her. She stood in a defensive stance, in only a thin, leather shirt and trousers. She didn't know what she would be facing, though she heard the distinctive pulley of a lift on the other side of the arena, but she wasn't worried. She tried to think of something she couldn't kill, given her newfound prowess, and she struggled.
She drew her mace and held it out ahead of her, so that the head was level with her breasts. Her eyes were fixed on the gap beneath the seating area, where the lift would surely appear. It was easily large enough to fit an Ogre in it, and this should've cautioned her. Perhaps a few weeks ago, when she were far weaker, it would have. But no longer.
"Everybody to your seats!" The guttural announcer called out again. His voice seemed to echo throughout the arena; she had no idea where he was. In an instant, there were mutterings of a crowd, and bustling of people filing through rows to get to seats, but they were surreal; like voices that were figments of her imagination. She looked around the arena and saw the source of this commotion; all around her, blue mists were forming ghostly figures, all of them feminine and all of their features distorted and stretched. Every one of them wore the remains of a white dress, tattered and torn by age so that it hung loosely from their wiry frames. Every one of them had a mouth that was twisted into an unnerving scream.
When the last of the spirits had settled down, a flickering light illuminated the darkness ahead of her. Inside the gap stood a tall, stocky figure; nearly the size of an ogre, if only slightly thinner. It dragged its large, bare feet through the entrance, breaking off splinters of wood as it drew itself through an entrance that was just too small for it. In the open, with the creature standing with a stillness and a morose expression, Sofie eyed up her challenge.
The creature was nude, with blue-grey skin that was covered in cuts and scars. Its arms were covered in chains, but its hands were free, both hanging limp at its side. Its back was a city skyline, where the towers and buildings were gravestones and crosses, and the ground was a pair of stocky shoulders that leaked blood where the display broke through its skin. It sniffed the air, looking Sofie dead in the eyes, and growled. Drawing a hand up to its back, it tore one of the tombstones free with a cry of pain and held it up like a club.
The beast was at least three times the Sister's height, and its armament looked capable of halving her with a hit. She suddenly felt small, insignificant and, though she loathed to admit it; and nobody would make her, she was afraid. She felt her legs shake and nearly give way, even as the Ghoul took several clumsy steps towards her. She felt overwhelmed by fright. It disoriented her; she'd not quite forgotten about such mortal feelings, of course, but she didn't imagine she'd ever suffer their presence again.
The beast caught its bearings and roared, charging with surprising quickness and bringing the tombstone down in a wide arc. Sofie barely managed to evade the strike, her reactions clumsy and weighed-down by the nearly paralyzing fear. She rolled past ghoul even as it recovered its weapon for another strike, driving her mace low into the creature's ankle. It howled as the metal ball punched through flaky skin and long-dead muscle and brought its free hand around. Its fist caught Sofie on the arm, and the sheer force of the blow sent her spinning through the air and falling onto her back. The banshees in the crowd began a series of excited wails,
Her mind wandered back to the incident that had set her on this journey. The blow from Ravenstock that had sent her spiralling, powerless and defeated. The shame weighed heavier on her now than it did then. She wouldn't lose a second time. Rising, she licked the blood off of her mace and beckoned the beast to try again.
The ghoul was on top of her again now, this time with another weapon in its left hand; an iron tombstone that had long-since been defiled by rust, its head not a cross but a twin-tailed comet. The creature brought both of its weapons down towards Sofie. She beat one away with a struggle, sending it skidding along the dirt behind the ghoul, but the comet landed tails-first into her side, scoring two grizzly hits and forming large, bleeding holes in her body. Sofie didn't feel a biting pain; instead, her legs were paralyzed – like pins and needles – and it made her movements appear even more amateur than before.
When the ghoul landed another blow, this time tearing a chunk of flesh from her chest, the fight appeared to be over. The Spirits, howling and jeering, reached their peak, and the Ghoul seemed to sense its victory. It rose the tombstone above its head and prepared to deliver another blow.
"I've seen enough." That charm-laced voice called from behind the creature. There was the sound of fingers clicking, and the Ghoul fell apart, into a pile of skin, bone-dust and limbs. Sofie began to stand. Once again he had to save her. She spat onto the macabre sight that was once the Ghoul. Ravenstock stood with the sternness and disappointment of a teacher. "You failed."
"So it appears…" Sofie bowed her head.
"I saw it all. You failed. You won't last a second without me." The sister looked up with a schoolboy's defiance. "But we have time to train you up, and you can still make it up to me."
"How?" She called. In fact, it was almost a beg; her voice was high and broken like the whimper of a dog. She felt a connection to this monster that she couldn't explain. His approval was strangely desirable.
"If what you lack in mettle, you make up in mind, I will consider continuing on with you. Else… you are a lost cause." He looked behind him at the crevice from where the Ghoul had emerged. In between Ravenstock and that stood a small, stocky figure. It was clad in plate, but it wasn't human. It looked far too high-quality for that, what with its ornate golden trim, and the way it hugged the creature's body without looking to be a burden at all. Its eyes were covered by a helmet which was caved in across its forehead, and its mouth was concealed by a shaggy, grey beard that carried bits of dust and filth in its locks.
"Goldback, my dear smith, can you call up my latest prizes?" Ravenstock called to this figure. He grunted quietly with a nod, disappearing up a set of stairs. The lift retreated back into the darkness before rising again. Two skeletons emerged with nothing but spears and round shields, and behind them marched a handful of people in column. They weren't dead, but the look of distance and horror from some unimaginable cruelty made them blend in well with their undead captors.
"Deal with them; I have no use for a pompous bean-counter and his privileged, bastard family." The venom in his voice took Sofie aback. She expected Ravenstock to be jovial and optimistic, as he had been thus far. It comforted her that there was a weakness to someone who was otherwise her lecturer and superior.
Goldback and Ravenstock left as quickly as they had arrived, after Count reminded her of the imminent dinner and smith chided her over her performance.
Sofie made the five captives line up against the wall. Two adults; one notably plump from a life of eating grapes and downing wine, the other looking healthy, but with hands that bore the damage of a life of housework. Three children, all with a gaze of pretention and a privileged physique that mirrored their father. Nobody spoke as Sofie paced ahead of them, intentionally close enough to elicit a freeze-up from each in turn as she passed. Finally, the merchant himself wet his lips and spoke weakly:
"Please, miss. I recognise you." Sofie knelt in front of the merchant.
"Oh? Speak up."
"You said… A sister always helps those in need. I remember…"
"What of it?"
"Help us… Set us free, please! Find some goodness in your heart, there must be some light left!" He pleaded.
"Hm. I'm hesitant, you know?" Sofie chuckled, blowing the man a kiss with cold lips. "I've got quite a good thing going on here."
"A Sister of Sigmar can't let us die like this!" He seethed whimperishly, starting to tear up. His wife was already crying deeply, in acceptance of her fate. The children followed her example, but still the Merchant looked her in the eyes.
"That's good, then!" She declared. "For there are no Sisters of Sigmar here."
She stood up and brandished a knife. Starting with the children, youngest first, she slit each one's throat in turn; taking time to relish in the wails of terror from the mother and father before ending their lives too. She took the time to taste each one's blood in turn, drinking until she felt satisfied. The way the merchant's tasted vaguely of fine wine in particular set Sofie's sensations on fire and put her in a very, very good mood.
"Now." She called out, looking at one of the skeletons. "Isn't it time for dinner?" The skeleton stared at her and groaned. "I'll take that as a yes!" Sofie cheered, marching off through the portcullis and back to the keep.