Role

Chapter 4

Aclimating to surface life has not been easy or simple. She has a great stength
but there's a brittleness to it, and who knows if or when it will crack. The
vast majority of therans are sheep, the shopkeepers, villagers, creatures barely
above cattle in her view, and there only to provide outlets for learning the
guild's lessons, through giving pain and death. But she also found herself
surrounded by men, and not merely the cattle and sheep of normal therans, but
others who also travel here and adventure. These are not all so weak and foolish
and it is the pain of these that sustains her best. This is one of the key reasons
she chose this guild among all others - magic was a given, it is at the core of
course - but among the mage guilds, none of the others provides the knowledge and
and training, when used with maleific design, to defile bodies with such torture,
such pain. She knows no true happiness and likely never will, but this is as close
as she comes. And she is aware of it, that awareness itself a form of torture of
herself, feeding into her pain, and so on.

The first time she felt that joy was a moment she will relish forever. The frozen,
bewildered face of the pitiful assassin, his confidence wiped away to be replaced
by shock and tremendous fear. His dying cries, the pooling blood, the effluence he
released as any dying beast, all fed her psychosis and made her cackle with glee.
She must have more. She must!