21st of Saun, Arc 720
Soundtrack
Cierne was so sober, she was restless. Her mind was rampant with thoughts, each one barreling through conclusions and leading to more thoughts. There was tangent upon tangent going on inside her head and her boredom wasn’t helping the situation. Even her limbs were restless. Her legs were buzzing with that feeling of having lost blood flow and becoming numb after sitting on them the wrong way for so long. Her hands were a little shaky, too, aching for something to do. Needless to say, she was a little too sober and that needed fixing.
She stepped out into the night, carefully zipping up her tent’s flap so no bugs or other nasty critters would get in while she was away. She decided she would head to a pub she had never been before but had heard countless stories about. The directions? She had heard incomplete stories about how to get there, but wasn’t all that worried about getting lost. She was more interested in the journey rather than the destination at the moment and found that a walk would do her and her body some good.
The air was hot and humid and clung to her lungs like a fur coat. A thin sheen of perspiration already coated her forehead as she maneuvered around several waste basins and over countless piles of rubbish.
Damn, she lived in a nasty place. Just thinking about it made her ache for Everton’s place. Even though it was located in the same city (albeit in a different part of the city), it was cleaner and had a happier, more positive vibe. She could even hear the children of the home squealing with joy, but her imagination was only so vast. The smell of rotting garbage always brought her back to reality.
Up ahead Cierne caught sight of subtle movement. A bird lay broken on the ground, one wing limp from an accident it had. Cierne ushered over to it with an impulse she couldn’t brush off. She leant over it and observed the stark black feathers, the obsidian eyes, and it’s sharp beak clacking together with the feeble attempt at defending itself.
The Naer pulled a knife from out the waistband of her pants and let it glide over the bird’s lame wing. An eidolic glint from the knife in the darkness that surrounded her was startling. It gave her a thrill that encouraged her to wield it. She made a little cut in the bird’s wing and watched as the creature kicked its legs, squirming in an attempt to free itself from her malevolent presence.
She liked the power she reigned over the animal. Her past as a slave had only fueled her desire to never again be taken advantage of or forced to do anything she didn’t want to it. It had also given her the aspiration to don her power on anything that was weaker than her. But she wasn’t entirely cruel. She only acted evilly on things that warranted it. Or like this bird, that needed a little help. Although, her help was a little unorthodox. While she aimed to bring the bird out of its misery, free it from its inability to fly, she did so slowly, and… wrongly.
She stabbed the bird’s wing with her knife, holding it in place, though it still struggled to escape. With her grimy fingers, Cierne wrestled with one of the animal’s feet. It’s claws scratched her arm, but only just before she snapped it. The creature croaked… or cawed… or whatever birds did when in pain.
Cierne’s eyes flashed with lust as she withdrew her knife from the bird’s wing. It started clacking its beak together again, trying to strike her with its sharply pointed bill. It got one good shot in, stabbing her in the hand deeply enough the draw blood.
Cierne hissed and narrowed her eyes. With one hand, she was able to hold the bird’s head in place, and with the other, while wielding the knife, began to carve into its face, her objective being to rid the creature of one of its weapons. The bird squirmed, it tried clawing at her, it flapped its wings in protest. The emotion behind the bird’s need to flee was utterly palpable. The only emotion Cierne felt was determination. Her anger at having been attacked had long since subsided.
Finally, the beak had been severed crudely off the animal’s face, leaving behind a bubbling ravine of blood. It coated the Naer’s hands and smelled acrid. But, to Cierne, it smelt better than the perpetual state of rot that wafted throughout the city.
The bird lay motionless on the ground.
Cierne casually wiped her knife off on one of the bird’s wings and exhaled deeply. She stowed her blade and got to her feet, satisfied with the job she deemed now done.
She needed to wash her hands now. Turning to head deeper into the city, she pocketed her hands. It would be quite disconcerting if she had spotted someone with blood all over their hands, so she didn’t want to be seen with it on hers.
She had just passed an old and decrepit wooden building when she heard a low chanting. Adrenaline was still coursing through her veins from her latest practice so the focus on washing her hands was quickly averted, the many thoughts pounding in her head construing her concentration.
She back peddled to where she had heard the sounds and found herself standing in front of an open window of the old building. The room was dimly lit by candle light, the luminescence of the fire creating intimidating shadows across the floor. But in order to have shadows, there first must be something to project them, and that is when Cierne’s heart leapt into her throat.
There were several cloaked figures, clad in black from head to toe. They were all surrounding a strange object in the center of the room.
Upon closer examination, she could saw that the object was some sort of doll made of cloth with needles sticking out of it at weird angles. It sat on a small pillar. Behind the doll were two thick wooden planks that set in such a way as to resemble an X. Two candles stood on either side of the doll burning unconventional colors. Green and blue with the usual orange-yellow flickered from the wicks, sending Cierne into a trance-like state.
She watched the figures, unable to move. Her stupor caused a glaze to form over her eyes. Hearing them chant in monotone voices and watching the light of the candles making the shadows dance were enough to send her into a temporary state of exhaustion.
Suddenly, everyone stopped their chanting. The room was unbearably silent. Even the usual rat squeaks and cricket chirps heard all over town were absent.
One of the cloaked figures strode in front of the makeshift altar and crouched down for a moment. He was placing something on the floor in front of the pillar. As he stood and backed away, Cierne saw what it was that had been set down.
A pig’s head.
One ear had been ripped clean off, clotted blood congealed to the hole where it used to be. Both of its eyes were completely missing, optic nerve and all. Parts of the face had been stripped of tissue, revealing muscle and sinew. Some parts even gave way to bloodied bone.
Cierne sucked in a breath but didn’t dare look away. She was too entranced with what the people were doing… if they were even people at all.
The blood on her hands was starting to dry, causing them to itch. Or maybe it was just in her head. She had just seen the head of a decapitated animal after all.
The chanting started up again as several of the cloaked beings unsheathed something from under their garments. They were swords. Not the little daggers that Cierne was familiar with, but actual stereotypical ‘hero in a cape’ swords.
She moved closer to the window, but tried to continue to conceal herself. These were definitely not the type of people she should let herself be known to.
The tallest of the beings raised his sword straight into the air before driving it into the pig’s head. Like a prized fighter had just won their match, everyone cheered.
Others began to raise their swords into the air while a couple also drove their weapons into the animal’s brains (that is assuming it was still inside the pig's head).
Their cheers increased in volume and soon Cierne found that she couldn’t even hear her own thoughts over all the commotion. She was no longer tired, her eyes were no longer glazed over, and the itchiness of her bloodied hands had ceased.
She sucked in a sharp breath and as a result, gave away her position.
One of the members, who hadn’t been as involved with the strange worship as the others, had caught wind of Cierne the moment she had gasped. Their eyes quickly connected with hers, their penetrating stare immobilizing the Naer for a split second.
She ducked, but it was too late, for they had already seen her.
“Hey!” They shouted, but Cierne was already off and into the night.
There was no way she was going to explain her doings to a group like that. She had seen enough anyway and would probably be on edge for the next several nights. She also really needed to wash her hands.
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