Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-25828117-20191023222228/@comment-5583506-20191024002627

"Kashya."

A voice, from somewhere deeper within the fog, faint as a whisper, seemed to beckon her.

The assassin turned her head. She could have sworn that she saw the dark shape of a figure looming further into the pufts.

"Kashya."

She took a couple of steps forward, curious as to who knew her name. Was it Death? No, that couldn't be. Her interpretation of Death was that Death had no voice, and no will. Yet she kept going forward, following the beckoning voice.

"Kashya."

"Who is there?" she asked steadily, not letting herself be intimidated.

She approached the character carefully, with one hand on the handle of one of her kukris, ready to strike.

"Bad blood."

Kashya froze up. She knew who that was. She could see the dark figure ahead of her, how it remained still as if waiting for her. Expecting her. She considered to just turn her back and return to wherever the rest where, but the voice kept beckoning her, and so she reluctantly kept approaching, but not without drawing the kukri.

Eventually the thick fog seemed to unveil the figure. Standing two heads taller than her, still in a faded golden armor bearing the crest of the Senchal Lions, stood the late Captain Ka'rin. His eyes were completely dead and gray, and his face still wore the stab wounds and cuts she had given him in the moment of his passing.

"It is cold here, Kashya", he wheezed with a lingering echo.

"You are not real", Kashya replied, ignoring his menacing voice.

"Everything is real here, you little murderess", Ka'rin smiled.

Kashya tensed up. "What do you want, father?"

This was not real, she kept telling herself. Captain Ka'rin was dead and buried. She had killed him. She had thoroughly massacred him and watched him bleed out to death. The only life she had found a genuine pleasure in taking. He could not harm her. Yet here he was, as real, as the kukri she held in her hand. All that was needed was yet another thrust.

"Is this one at fault as a wronged victim to haunt his murderer?" he asked, still smiling.

"You were not wronged", Kashya said, feeling a sting of anger resonate from somewhere within her. "This one killed you. And she is going to do so again."

She approached him with her kukri raised.

"Going to murder again?" he laughed.

"Yes", she confirmed. "But it won't be murder. Kashya is just returning the corpse to its grave."

She slashed at the figure and it disapparated before her very eyes in a puft of black smoke, only to re-materialize behind her. "Bad blood", he hissed viciously and sharply in her right ear. "Always were."

She spun around, aiming to cut his throat again, only to find herself cutting empty air.

"That last one hurt, you know", the father's voice echoed in the mist. "That killing blow."

Kashya was starting to become unnerved. She knew this was not real, but seeing the father there so ... alive, figuratively speaking, had begun to trick her mind.

"You would know, wouldn't you?" Captain Ka'rin said from behind her again.

She peered over her shoulder watching the father grab his chin and lift his head off, exposing the ghastly slash she had given him over his windpipe, almost cutting through his neck entirely.

"That last one really hurt", he wheezed, even with his head almost completely lifted off.

Though Kashya was used to seeing death in all its uncanny forms, she was not prepared for this sight. It was too surreal, yet so vivid. Was this just a nightmare? Or was she truly in some sort of hell in which her father's ghost was truly there to torment her forever and ever?

She stumbled backwards at the sight as the father lowered his head back in place. "There is not a single thing your treatment I regret", he grinned in an almost skeletal smile.

It only took her a moment to realize how the fur on his head started to shed, his face starting to disintegrate as grave worms startet to protrude from every orifice and blistered tissue, exposing his Khajiiti skull. The eyeballs melted and ran backwards into the interior. Blood started to soak his golden armor, as his rotting flesh ran in a putrid mass out of his greaves and cuirass, until finally just his bones were standing in place, yet the father still spoke.

"You will never know love, happiness, joy, and comfort ever again", the skeleton cackled. "

"That's ... that's not true", Kashya said, flinching as the skeleton started to move towards her.

"You will be left as cold and lifeless in the grave as your poor father. As all the people you have killed. Bad blood. Bad blood!"

"Stay away!" Kashya swung her kukri against the shambling corpse, yet once more it just seemed to slash through his very being, as if he wasn't even a physical part of her world.

"Not even getting fucked in every hole that you've got seemed to cure the bad blood", his grinning skull wheezed from behind her back with a breath so cold she could feel the fur stand on the back of her neck.

Kashya gave out a yelp and spun around, stumbling over something protruding from the ground. It was a corpse, but she did not recognize it. Heaps of them. Droves. The people she had spent her lifetime killing, she realized. They were all here.

"Your bad blood caused this, child", the skeleton cackled from somewhere in the distance. "And yet you keep piling them up. Are you telling yourself you are a good woman by night?"

"N-no", Kashya whimpered feeling her heart race within her chest.

She was trembling. She had not experienced fear in years. Why now? This was not real. This was not real, she kept telling herself.

She had fallen on a pile of corpses, some rotten, some skeletal, some freshly killed. Even the Daedra worshippers from Tenmaru were here. She crawled, struggled to get back up onto her feet, yet the very ground and the landscape seemed to have shifted into the countless of lives she had taken as an assassin.

"Bad blood!" the father's voice cackled. "BAD BLOOD!"

"Shut up!"

All of a sudden she felt something move underneath her. A face stared up at her from the trove of corpses she climbed upon. The very pile seemed to shift as she moved. These corpses were not dead. An arm reached up and seemed to grasp for her ankle.

"No!" Kashya gasped. "Get away!"

"Seems like someone enjoyed the taste of that bad blood of yours at the brothel where I left you, accursed child", the father's disembodied voice said from somewhere in the surrounding mist. "Maybe they are here too, Kashya? Would you like to meet them?"

Kashya felt her eyes water. "N-no", she stuttered. "Not that."

Another arm burst out from the pile of corpses and grasped after her.

"No!" she panted and started to climb faster even as more and more arms burst out of fog and the mist.

In fact it seemed that everyone lying here were still alive, or rather brought back to life.

"Don't touch me!" Kashya called out and motioned a kick for one of the grasping hands.

The corpse pile shifted underneath her as she felt herself be buried by a forest of reaching arms. They grabbed at her arms, they spread her legs, clawed at her neck.

Kashya became all bug-eyed as she realized what was about to happen. A familiar nauseating sensation in her stomach began to rise.

''Not again. Not again. Not again.''

The arms started grasp at her clothing, eager to rip it all off.

"Don't touch me!" she screamed, her eyes filled with tears. "Don't touch me!"

She flailed wildly with her arms and legs, but to no avail. The combined strength of her attackers was overwhelming. She could feel them peeling off her cloth and armor pieces.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" she shrieked in sheer emotional agony. "DON'T TOUCH ME!"

Last resort. She still had the kukri in her hand. She clenched her teeth hard together as she started to cut and to stab at the arms surrounding her.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" she bawled with each cut. "DON'T TOUCH ME! DON'T TOUCH ME! DON'T TOUCH ME!"