A Witch's Brew


A dark place, somewhere in the woods of Adrillani

Audrey Wilde pulled her dark hood back from her face, revealing her still young and beautiful features. The spells the other Mavens had taught her had served her well. And all it cost was the deaths of a few boisterous neanderthals. As agreed, the other two witches were waiting for her in the clearing, which was overlooked by an old statue of some ancient widow. The woman with short black hair, Maven Aela, was the first to speak up. “Well, Sister, looks like you’re no worse for wear, and with a few sacraments under your belt. How did it feel, draining the spirits from those pathetic men?”

Audrey gave a small smile, and turned to the other woman, whose white hair made her look taller than she already was. The red scar that ran down one side of her face did nothing to make her look less beautiful than she was, and Audrey always found herself staring at her. “I fell fine, though unlike you, I take no pleasure in it. The Sacrament is a means to an end.”

The white-haired woman, Maven Zeka, regarded Audrey with the haughty expression she always wore. As if she was better than the others. And in most ways, she was, but Audrey had the feeling that the one thing the woman lacked was a Soul. “What matters is that you completed the tasks you were given, and without remorse.” The woman smiled. It was not a happy smile, but a practiced one, meant to be seen by others for the desired effect. “I am proud to give you the title of Maven. We will train you well.”

Audrey, despite the anxiousness she felt inside, was proud and glad to have pleased the more accomplished witch. She bowed low to the woman, and nodded. “Thank you, Maven Zeka, I promise I’ll do my best.”

“See that you do.” The white-haired Maven replied in monotone, “Now, let’s turn our sights to the next order of business.”

A Witch's Brew

Ballad of the Claymores Firion