/=|= The Lost Raven =|=\
17
"Serving a Nightmare in a Weird Waking World"
Tira slowly awoke from a deep dreamless sleep, feeling as though coming out of a coma. Like she was adrift on a boat in an abyss of absolute darkness, very very gradually (almost imperceptibly) making progress to the shore of the waking world. First she became aware of her body again, her senses returning to her, with a hard cold stone floor beneath her and her aching muscles. Then her memories came into focus, recalling her exhausting day before with her numerous fights and endless chores and the … whatever the hell happened between her and the sword. Then the hunger struck. Not a normal hunger for food (though she felt that too), but remembering the sword, the eye of Soul Edge, Tira yearned for that blissful feeling again. Oh, how she wanted to feel that strange exotic and soothing warmth to seep into her being again. And with those desires, she opened her heavy eyelids and looked around as the blurriness faded from her vision.
Nightmare still sat upon the throne, glaring at her, the sword still lay across his lap. Tira lay at his feet. She slowly eased herself up and sat on her legs, leaned across the sword, and opened her mouth to taste those sweet tears again, but Nightmare snatched her by the hair and pulled her head back.
"No!" He growled.
Tira closed her eyes and whimpered.
"If you please your master, you will be rewarded. Fail me, and you will suffer dearly. Do you understand?"
Tira nodded as best she could.
"I thirst for revenge. Those who have intervened in my plans in the past shall suffer my wrath. Their souls I shall consume, and torment until the end of time. We shall hunt them down, and destroy them all, and then I will consume the world. Today, I resume my war with the mortals, and all shall tremble in my shadow!"
"But Master—"
Nightmare jerked Tira's head all the way back and roared his displeasure at being interrupted.
"Ar-are you at full power? May I h-humbly suggest we wait here."
"No!"
"B-but master! I know how my kind think! How they work!" speaking fast to get her ideas out before he silenced her, Tira quickly explained, "Small disturbances in town and rumors! They'll get around! People will come to investigate! Trickling in only a few at a time! Your enemies will hear, but they won't know! They'll come to investigate! Alone! You can divide them! Conquer them! And by the time the world realizes Soul Edge still lives, you'll be unstoppable!"
"Pathetic human! I don't need to divide them!" Nightmare threw Tira to the ground and shot up.
"But master!"
"Silence!" Nightmare stepped on the downed Tira.
"But you were defeated before!"
"INSOLENCE!" Nightmare raised Soul Edge high above his head, glaring down at his cowering slave, ready to drive the blade through her and into the stone floor.
But the girl looked up through her brow, almost smiling as her voice deepened, becoming almost … seductive? "I'm only looking out for my master … trying to serve him as best I can. You are powerful, master, absolutely. But not invincible. But together, we are invincible! Let me bring them to you, so you can beat them. Let me serve you," and Tira lowered her forehead to the floor next to Nightmare's boot in complete submission, "master."
Nightmare lowered Soul Edge, reached down and grabbed Tira by the collar, and lifted her off the floor so her feet dangled an inch off the ground. And somehow the being whose eyes he met now seemed to belong to an entirely different creature than the one he threw to the floor not two minutes ago. A paradoxical wisdom lurked beneath her purple eyes, a schemer, a manipulator, and a deceiver. She gulped, her eyes were wide with fear, but somehow Nightmare sensed an evil grin lurking below the surface. "You're not what you seem."
Tira smiled and giggled.
"Very well," He set her down gently, then gestured towards the door, "go, human, and serve your master. Use what you know of your people against them, and bring them to me."
With a smooth fluid sweeping gesture, the girl bowed deeply, turned on her heel, kicked her ring blade into her grasp, and walked out of the room, "Yes, my Lord," without ever looking back.
-x-
Ostriensberg, Arena.
The masked monstrosity in full armor swung its oversized great axe in huge wild arcs like a raving madman, screaming and grunting some unintelligible language. "Berzerker" they called him. The kinda-sorta not really de facto Champion of this caged Arena. Most of the combatants face one another, the winner claiming a nice money purse and given the choice to continue fighting (and risk losing it or doubling their prize) or walking away with what they have. Most fools fall to greed, become champion, then lose everything, walking away with nothing while their successor repeats the cycle and on and on and the town gets entertained for virtually nothing.
But that's for local competition.
Outside competition, such as the man with slanty eyes and … roped together sticks? What was his name? Lee something? Li Long! That's right. Anyway, people like him played by a different set of rules. First of all, a local loser is simply stripped of all valuables and tossed out of the arena, at the mercy of angry gamblers who may want compensation for their gambling losses which results in a second beating. But people who look different? They get locked into the pillories, put on display and at the mercy of a paranoid racist crowd for days. If they're lucky, the officials will release them, but it wouldn't be the first time a foreigner died trapped in the stocks. And even if they do get released, they're pretty much done for. It rarely ends well for foreigners in this day and age.
And second, even if the foreigner wins, the Officials can't let it stand. So foreigners get the unpleasant "honor" of fighting the Berzerker, and the people just love seeing him smash their slanty-eyed or dark skinned tails against the cage with bone-crushing force. Even if they win, it rarely ends well for these strangers from afar.
But this fellow seems to be doing quite well despite having a plaything as a weapon completely incapable of hurting his armored foe. Then the smaller man surprised the crowd. Letting Berzerker dedicate to an attack, the man dodged to the side, leapt up, and brought the nunchaku down upon the armored beast's helmet. Each stick sliding through the eye socket. Berzerker unleashed another cry, but not a battle cry. One of pain as it dropped its mighty weapon and backed up.
"Oh wow," Tira marveled from the stands. Ten seconds later, the smaller man hammered the nunchaku deeper into the giant's helmet and vanquished his larger foe.
Didn't see that one coming.
It was settled. She'd take his soul. Rising to her feet, she headed for the walkway. For once she blended in with the crowd. Of course, that was because a big shiny battle distracted everyone, especially a battle with a dirty foreigner no one liked. But she liked being faceless, moving amongst the people and watching where the foreigner ventured (watching to see if the officials would let him walk away.) Surprisingly, they did (grudgingly, they did … and he was smart enough to take his prize and leave.)
They're probably going to send assassins after him. That's the way things go around here.
She never quite understood where the hatred or fear of people who looked different came from. In a way, everyone in these parts all look the same (granted, she had an easier time telling one from another.) But the people from far far away, they looked exotic! Different skin colors, different shapes to their features, a different quality to their hair. She couldn't tell one asian from another, but that was okay because they all looked cool to her. Perhaps she wasn't racist because her own kind treated her like garbage, and so she had no compulsion to side with her own kind in the immortal "us versus them" mentality.
Li Long could have stayed at the Lakeside Inn for free, right next to the arena, but with his prize he opted for the inn on the other side of town. The Great Willow Inn. A wise move. The Lakeside Inn wasn't very nice to winners who stuck around with their prize. And, given his appearance and the populace's animosity for his kind …
Smart and strong. Master will be pleased with me for this one!
She could almost taste Soul Edge's tears, and just the thought brought back the memory of the thick soothing euphoria oozing down her throat, into her blood stream, passing through her body, stimulating her and—
Tira shook those thoughts away. If she let it hijack her thoughts, she'd wind up in a fetal position, rocking back and forth, caressing herself in a vain effort to bring that other worldly … what was it she felt? She didn't know. It made no sense. She licked a big eyeball on a sword. Why did she want to go do that again? All she knew was Nightmare did something to her, and whatever it was she couldn't get it out of her thoughts. No matter how stupid, illogical, or creepy as it might be to acquire that sensation, it didn't matter. She'd do anything for it. Nightmare promised her more if she brought him souls to feast on; he even gave her a new power. He gave it to her when he blessed (cursed) her with "that feeling." The tears of Soul Edge imparted it to her: the power to use her body as a transport vessel, to take their souls right from their bodies and keep them tucked inside her so she didn't have to go lugging around unconscious people for miles and miles. And she absorbed the knowledge of how to do it when she licked the eye of Soul Edge.
It made no sense. Not that long ago she wouldn't have believed it if someone told her there were men with magic who could control people's minds; it was hogwash to think a magic sword could possess its wielder, and only the most wild imagination could dream up a working eyeball on a sword. In light of the reality she lived, absorbing power through an evil artifact's tears didn't seem like as much of a stretch (depressingly.)
The world used to be so sane.
So here she was. Seeking out her prey. He ventured into The Great Willow Inn, and despite having already acquired a room there (paid for with the coin from that Arthur fellow) Tira lingered outside for a bit, looked up into the air and whistled to her friends. They chirped in response and started circling. Then Tira looked around, and walked off.
Smart and strong … can't take any chances. Might need help bringing him down ...
Writer's Note:
For this story, I imagine Tira looking like my version of her from SCIV's editor. Link to My Tira pictures located in my profile. (I would link here, but won't let me for some reason.)