The Witch Hunter watched silently as Varrik negotiated his way toward through what remained of the outer section of the outpost, watching from the darkness of a window on the upper levels of what had once been the gate tower. He was alone. The Witch Hunter on the other hand was not. In fact it had been quite busy when she had arrived hours before. Very busy in fact. But it was quite now, save for the sound of the wind and snow buffeting the tower. She watched as he disappeared from sight as he cut deeper into the ruined outpost, heading for the inner sanctuary where he had arranged this meeting to occur. Even now she was in two minds as to this course of action. She had been tempted to just leave without a word. However leave she did not, instead lingering in this place, waiting for more than just herself to arrive in this frozen ruin of the past.
As already mentioned this place had been very busy when she had first arrived, very lively and rowdy even. There had been fires and cooking and music. Then she had arrived. Now the outpost was dead and cold and quiet. The snow had already covered the bodies and extinguished the flames. There was no music now, which was a shame. It had been nice music, very cheerful and bawdy. Unfortunately they had tried to hurt her and so she had had to silence their melody. That was the problem with places like this, they attracted all kinds of criminal vermin hiding from the law. And speaking of vermin…
Silhouetted in the doorway stood a lone figure, tall and imposing, a long coat hanging from his shoulders that resembled shadows more than it did clothe. No doubt he was smiling. He was always smiling. She could feel his eyes upon her. It made her back itch. The Witch Hunter turned toward the man but said nothing, her mask hiding her features completely from view. Not that it mattered with this one. ‘He’ could always tell what she was thinning. She stared at him in silence. His smile only growing in response to her obvious hostility. It no doubt pleased him greatly. It had been many moons since he last darkened her door, making her immediately suspicious of his sudden return. Perhaps recent events were to his liking. Another reason to simply walk away and never return. Her hands, hidden from sight beneath the long sleeves of her hooded coat flexed experimentally.
“You’re in my way,” she said, disappearing in a blur of motion, a heartbeat later appearing in front of ‘him’, her ominous glowing blade of cutting through the air where he had been. She stood up straight, already aware that he was behind her, no doubt perfectly relaxed, looking over his shoulder and smiling at her with that deceptively warm, inviting smile of his. And smiling he was, but not at her, his gaze held by the light of the moon that was breaking through the clouds high above. For a moment the two of them stood in silence, back to back, the only sound that of the howling wind outside. And then he was gone. No motion, no sound, just…gone. She turned around to make sure, her gaze falling onto the body of the man that she had killed not hours ago.
He had been the last one she had killed, the leader of this particular band of outlaws, his blood staining the powdery snow beneath him as he lay slumped next to the window. He had died fighting, weapon in hand and hatred in his eyes. No doubt his gods would be pleased, should he have any. Not that it mattered to her. There was only one place she was going when she died, the same place as all of those who came before her. She lingered for a moment. And then she left, offering no prayer for the departed. What would have been the point, it was not like the gods could hear her any more.
