Chapter Text
An absolute bastion of carnage, a courier of pain and anguish, a revenant that leaves behind only a trail of blood.
CLANK
A heavy greatsword, with a blade that dwarfed many who found themselves on the wrong end of its sharpened tapered point.
CLANK
A dark cloak that shrouded heavy onyx plate armor, the clanking of armor pieces rattling against each other, the only warning many ignored before their sudden deaths.
CLANK
An intimidating face, of pale complexion with hints of olive undertones adorned with cold unrelenting dark eyes that seemed to stare straight into one's inner fears. Framed by a raven fringe and two long black braids.
CLANK- KERCLUNK
Her black greatsword slammed into the silver of a meager shortsword, only for its feeble wielder to lose their grip on the handle. The shortsword was sent careening, spinning through the air with a dull ring before sinking blade first into dirt.
The footsoldier in white cloths and fake gold armor cowered as he raised his paltry shield, taking a step back as he gripped onto it for dear life.
She raised her greatsword high above her head, the black tinted blade eclipsing the sun above, a reminder that here, at the edge of the black forest, the creatures of the night remained unchallenged. The blade snapped down like a guillotine, shattering the metal shield and cleaving straight through the foot soldier's helmet.
With a sickening wet crunch, the greatsword collapsed the soldier’s metal helmet through their skull and into their brain while some of the shattered pieces of his shield pierced his neck and shoulders. He garbled in pain, blood filling his throat as the severed synapses in his brain haywired.
The woman’s lip twitched, the ghost of a disgusted sneer passed her otherwise cold and emotionless face. She yanked the handle and forced the sword out of his head, his body collapsing onto its knees before slumping onto the floor lifeless.
She then let her sword rest on her shoulder as she took a moment to bask in her work. Around her were about eight corpses, all dressed in similar clothes and armor, all with the insignia that marked them as holy warriors of the Grand Cathedral Church. Many of them lay with dismembered limbs, or with massive open wounds.
Wednesday often took great pleasure from slaughtering the church’s fanatical soldiers. Their ‘holier than thou’ attitudes and xenophobic demeanor made them an annoyance, but this time the delight of bloodshed had been soured.
She stepped past the warm cadavers she had freshly robbed of life, and stepped onto the pooling blood of a mutilated woman. Her body frail and petite yet warped by bruises and slashes across her body, her face was bruised beyond recognition but the cotton wraps hid her true nature.
Beneath the cotton was a head full of snakes, the woman was a gorgon, who kept her hair and subsequently her powers hidden. Her small hand still tightly gripped onto her head wraps, even after death refusing to turn any to stone, even if they happened to be her assailants who spat in the face of her kindness.
Wednesday had been too late. By the time she had arrived at the outskirts of the forest she found the troupe of “holy” savages further desecrating the gorgon’s lifeless corpse, evident by the broken bones underneath her marred skin. If she had been of clearer mind she would have taken the opportunity to leave some of the soldiers alive, if only to simply torture them with a slow and painful death, but her anger got the better of her.
She sheathed her greatsword and kneeled, staining her gauntlets in the gorgon’s blood as she gently lifted the corpse. She cradled the gorgon in her arms as she left the rest to rot, walking back into the dark underbrush of the forest that she and many creatures called home.
The dark forest was aptly named, the tall trees and heavy foliage would block out the sun during daylight hours. The darkness served as a perfect home for many creatures of the night, who were either sensitive to the daylight or more suited to survival in the dark. Then those creatures formed alliances, deciding to share the forest with one another and all those that the daylight masses had shunned.
Gorgons weren’t particularly suited for the dark, but they were advised to stay within the confines of the forest for their safety. This one seemed to have strayed too close to the sun and was unfortunately spotted by a patrol of zealous idiots.
As the woman trekked deeper into the woods she would take note of movement and curious glowing eyes that appeared through the shadows in her periphery. Those that had fangs did not bare them, those with claws did not brandish them, and those with loud roars remained silent as they watched the woman carry the body of one of their own.
She then reached a small clearing where small bits of evening light and fireflies let the dark foliage glow with a gentle deep green hue. She laid the gorgon down in the center, the soft grass inviting and the whistle of the wind through the trees solemn and faint. Here the gorgon would decompose and return to the forest after death, becoming one with their home once more.
The raven haired woman stood tall as the almost silent atmosphere was interrupted with the sound of something small scurrying through the grass. The woman turned to look down at a disembodied hand that seemed to stand at attention. She bent down to pick him up in her gauntlets, “Thing, please inform her family.”
The hand bobbed in affirmation before using its language of gestures, a combination of sign language and morse code.
“Yes,” the woman responded, “she was attacked by a troupe out by the outskirts of the forest.” Her cold stare glanced down at the cotton wraps on the gorgon’s head, her lips curved ever so slightly into a frown, “she chose to keep her dignity and did not fight back.”
The hand bobbed once more before scurrying down her arms, then her legs and onto the floor before disappearing into the tall brush. The raven haired woman looked about the edge of the clearing, spotting the multitude of barely visible silhouettes and occasional reflective eyes. She offered a solemn nod to those who mourned the gorgon, before turning on her heel and leaving the clearing.
Once she was back in the darkness of the woods she began to hear the sorrowful howls of werewolves, and the saddened songs of sirens behind her. But the sounds of the night creatures became distant and quiet as she moved. Wednesday was not one of emotions, she thought them useless and irrational, but she couldn’t help but seek the comfort of her home after discovering the death of an innocent. She doubted that any would leave the safety of the forest tonight, so the remainder of her patrol would have been done in vain.
Eventually she found a large metal and gothic black gate deep within the forest. It audibly screeched as she pushed through, the hinges old and rusted. The gate opened up to a well groomed stone path that bent around a grand stone fountain, a statue of a reaper obscured by a robe and hood stood in the center, its skeletal hands holding a scythe in front of its chest, serving as a morbid defender.
A plaque under its feet and set into the stone read, “Addams Family Manor.”
Behind the fountain was a sizable three story gothic mansion. The building was a menagerie of blacks, whites and grays. Foreboding with black spiked brackets along the dark and gritty shingles. The windows were ornate and made of a dark metal which almost resembled deep sunken eyes. The front steps were framed with white spikes reminiscent of fangs, almost as if the front door was the house’s hungry maw, ready to swallow any who dared defy it.
It was also Wednesday’s home, hidden deep within the forest, away from those who seeked to burn it all to the ground and destroy her lineage.
She stepped up to the front door, her gauntlet mere inches from the black ornate door handle before the door was suddenly opened. On the other side stood a towering man of gray skin that held hints of blue underneath. His eyes were mournful and his mouth settled into a deep frown, but she could see the sparkle behind his dead eyes. He was happy to see her. He adjusted the neck of his pristine black tailcoat and grunted with acknowledgement, his voice deep and gravelly.
“Lurch,” she addressed him, which was met with a hint of a smile on his ever grave expression. He gave a small bow before he stepped aside and held the door open. She nodded gratefully, “thank you.”
Lurch nodded and grunted in response.
She took a moment to look about the foyer. The square floor tiles were mismatched black and white like a chess board. Two stone archways on her left and right, that were chiseled to look like spindly dragons, led to the west and east wings, and at the center was a grand staircase that was split in the middle by a door that led down into the lower chambers.
“Wednesday,” a soft voice drew her attention. At the top of the main stairs stood a boy in regal, yet comfortable black robes.
“Pugsley,” she replied simply.
Her younger brother had grown taller as of late, he lost the roundedness of youth and became rather gangly in his teenage years. His features had sharpened a little, now with a sharper jawline and a strong brow ridge that made his sunken eyes darker, yet he did not lose the round cheeks that revealed his age.
“I thought you weren’t coming back until nightfall.” He spoke as he walked down the steps of the main stairs, “did something happen?”
Wednesday clenched her jaw, “a gorgon was killed just outside the perimeter of the forest.”
“Oh,” Pugsley frowned with concern, “one of ours?”
“Yes,” Wednesday affirms, her voice still monotone.
Pugsley lowered his head, “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“You aren’t to blame,” Wednesday narrowed her eyes, “those who are have already been dealt with.”
Pugsley raised a brow, “the church’s dogs?”
Wednesday nodded, “the worst plague to ever wrought the borders of our home.”
“Hmm,” he hummed in agreement before changing the topic. Wednesday assumed he did so for her sake but she failed to understand why, “will you be staying in the manor for the rest of the day then?”
“Yes, I’ll be in the library.”
Pugsley smirked, “mother would want you to return your armor and weapons to the armory.” He reminded her smugly.
She glared at him with narrowed eyes, which only served to make her brother’s smirk grow wider. “I am aware.”
“Just a reminder, since you always seem to forget.” His smirk grew wider.
Wednesday never forgot, she just preferred to stay in her armor, something her brother knew but coyly ignored. “I won’t forget,” she deadpanned before turning toward the east wing, away from the library and instead toward the armory.
She knew that her brother didn’t actually care if Wednesday wore her armor inside the house, he was only trying to get under her skin, which he had grown increasingly proficient at over the years. She’d have to pay him back in kind later, she hadn’t practiced her knife throwing in a few days after all.
Wednesday’s daydreams about torture were suddenly cut short by her neck snapping back. Her face was forced up to the sky, her shoulders became violently tense, and her eyes rolled unnaturally up into her skull. Her mind was forcefully shunted into a vision.
She recognized the edge of the forest, her forest, along with a few stationary carriages just outside the treeline. A silhouetted figure stood where the setting sun was their backdrop.Wednesday could only make out the shape of drab hooded robe pulled over their head and the glint of multicolored claws that almost blended into the vibrant oranges, pinks and faint blues of the evening sky.
Wednesday’s heart clenched in her chest, she didn’t recognize this person, but they were in danger. Surrounded by holy warriors who had their silver-forged weapons unsheathed and ready. The figure was going to die, and something deep within Wednesday’s core told her that whoever they were, they were not allowed to die. They had to live. She refused to lose them.
Just as suddenly as her consciousness was ripped into a vision, it was thrown back in her head, into her body that stood in the present and still in the hallway that led to the Addams family armory.
The unbearable clenched feeling around her heart was now gone along with the vision. The feeling is only a fading memory like a distant dream, or more so a nightmare, though not the kind of the nightmare she usually preferred. Wednesday was not a fan of sentimentality, and she refused to believe that she would ever experience that feeling again. The feeling she could only reasonably describe as heartache.
Still her vision had given her a warning of something yet to come, and even if she did not know the individual in her vision, she could only assume it to be another resident of her forest. It was her responsibility to keep the night creatures of this forest safe, even if it frustrated her how many would put themselves in the way of danger.
She was glad she hadn’t gotten the chance to remove her armor. She turned back toward the front door with unnatural speed.
“Wednesday?” She heard her brother ask before she shoved the door open and trudged back into the forest.
Only one thought ran through Wednesday’s mind as she rushed through the dark brush. Whoever this person is, they’re not allowed to die.
-
Towns tend to be noisy. With the bustling of people brushing past one another, there was always a cacophony of voices, vendors vying for attention, customers bartering or complaining. The townspeople conversed, laughed, and some even argued. All of it served to make a town feel lived in, and to many these sounds meant safety or maybe even a place to call home.
For a particular blonde werewolf, it was all just a little bit too much. She brought her hand up, the chipped multicolored paint on her nails glinted under the daylight, and gripped onto her hood to pull it down over her blue eyes. She kept herself dressed with inconspicuous brown commoner clothes and a hooded robe.
Enid’s senses were heightened compared to that of a human. Not only could she perfectly hear the multitude of conversations around her but she could also hear a man’s lip smacking as he crunched into an apple, the grumbling of a starving bum’s stomach, and the jingling of coins within everyone’s pockets.
Even if she didn’t prefer the noise herself, she knew it served as a good distraction, one she could use to her advantage. Her eyes flickered to a man with a long nose and clothes much too fine to be worn out in town. She had heard him gloating about his family lineage from a good thirty feet away, a vain individual who rightly deserved to lose some coin.
She made sure to not stare, keep her eyes from lingering on her target for too long. Not that it seemed like he would notice either way, with his chin held high and a coin purse tied loosely to his belt.
Once close enough she purposely bumped into him. His boasting was cut short by an over exaggerated “oomf.” He snapped to Enid, his long nose flared as he glared at her, “could you watch where you are going!?”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir!” She raised her hands up placatingly, playing the part of an innocent town girl. “I wasn’t paying attention,” she said apologetically.
The man flashed a disgusted sneer, “see that it happens never again.”
Enid bowed her head, “of course, sir.”
He turned away with an indignant snort before returning to boasting about the glory of his family name.
She smirked as his attention was turned away from her. She then hid his stolen coin purse under her robe and tied it securely to her own belt. “Too easy,” she praised herself as she slipped away from the town square, she couldn’t stay here anyway.
She passed a sign that informed her that she was now leaving the town of Jericho, though she paid it no mind as she figured that she’d soon forget all about this town and its name. Enid knew she couldn’t stay in one place for too long, she had to keep moving, otherwise people would start to recognize her, and then they would start to ask questions, ones she didn’t want to share the answers to.
She had passed a chapel of the Grand Cathedral Church on her way into the town, which meant her kind were not welcome here. Not that werewolves were really welcome anywhere, more often than not they were hunted, their weakness to silver exploited especially in towns protected by the church’s holy warriors. Which meant Enid had to find some way to get out of here before she raises any suspicion.
She wondered how she could move to the next town, she heard through the town’s chatter that the road to the next town over would get dangerously close to the nearby black forest. She heard stories of hungry beasts and a supposed demon that had cold eyes that would stare into your soul as it split you in two, none of which Enid wanted anything to do with. She was already being hunted by the church as is, she’d rather not be preyed upon by some bloodthirsty monster.
Maybe if she could shift into her wolf form would she be able to stand her own, but she couldn’t so she had to find some alternative, and through some sheer dumb luck she found it. The sight of a parked caravan of traders all hauling their goods by wagon brought a sense of relief. Enid liked merchants, they could be bartered with, something she considered herself very good at.
She stepped up a short scraggly man who sat at the front of the wagon at the very back of the caravan, the reins to his horse on his lap as he clasped his hands together in some kind of prayer.
“Hello, sir?” Enid forced her best smile as she caught his attention.
He lifted his head from his prayer with a confused expression, “yes, lass? Shouldn’t you be in town, where it’s safe?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” she offered him her best puppy dog eyes, “I need to get to the next town over and it would be very dangerous for such a helpless girl like myself. Would it be too much to ask if I could hitch a ride in the back of your carriage?”
The man’s eyes narrowed, bringing a stubby hand up to scratch at the back of his head, “I don’t think I should be taking you anywhere near the black forest, sorry.”
Enid’s expression dropped, of course it wouldn’t be that easy. She slipped her hand into her new stolen pouch and pulled out six golden coins, “I can pay you.”
The man’s trepidation was thrown out rather quickly as he reached forward to take the coins from her hand, “just don’t damage anything.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Enid replied as she waved him off.
She pulled herself into the back of the carriage, taking a moment to find a somewhat comfortable place to sit among the crates filled with a variety of fruits she could smell with her keen nose. She would have preferred to not have to spend any coin to get to the next town, but at least now she could relish in being able to relax under a canopy that would keep her dry and in a carriage that would keep her moving.
Just as she found a good place to lay down and close her eyes the cart began moving with a shout and a few huffs from the horses. She couldn’t help but smile. She knew that soon she would have to be on her own again, moving from town to town on foot, dealing with the tumultuous weather, and avoiding the church’s influence, but for now she could just breathe
.
Or so she thought. After an hour or two of bliss the cart slowed to a stop. Enid opened one eye curiously, focusing on the voices outside the carriage.
“What’s the problem?” The merchant driving her carriage asked.
Another self righteous voice answered, “we are of the Grand Cathedral Church, we are to search your carriages for any contraband.
The man paused for a beat, “is that really necessary?”
“Are you to impede the Church’s mission?” The supposed holy warrior threatened.
“Of course not! Go right ahead, I am but a humble trader.” The scraggly man’s voice wavered as he spoke, clearly one to collapse under pressure.
“Shit,” Enid cursed under her breath as she moved. She quickly slipped out from the carriage, her boots silently landing on the dirt of the road before she crouched low. She glanced over to the forest that the caravan had been skirting the border of. She found herself surprised by how dark it was between its trees, she figured it wasn’t called the black forest for nothing. She then focused on the sounds of the holy warrior’s footsteps on the other side of the carriage, making sure she kept the carriage between them so that he wouldn’t spot her.
Unfortunately she had been too focused on his footsteps to notice the other man in golden armor who walked up behind her. Her hairs stood on end as she felt a sudden presence but by then it was too late, she snapped to him with wide eyes as he forcefully snatched her wrist.
“Hey! Watch it!” Enid feigned desperately trying to pull her arm away from him, pretending that his grip was too strong for her.
The warrior then pulled Enid in front of him, “what is her relation to you.” He tightly gripped onto her arms as he presented Enid to the scraggly merchant who only stared back with shocked wide eyes.
“I’m nothing to him!” Enid declared as she squirmed, “I just snuck onto the back of his carriage while he wasn’t looking. I just wanted to get to the next town, I’m just a peasant.”
The merchant seemed to let out a silent relieved breath, but then his worry turned to pity as her warrior yanked her away. “We’ll see about that.”
“What?” Enid began to panic, normally the peasant plea worked, “I swear I’m just trying to get out of Jericho! You have to believe me!”
“Creatures of the night have a tendency to disguise themselves as helpless dames such as yourself. If you truly were of Jericho you would know to cooperate.” The warrior huffed as he let go of one of her arms to unsheathe a silver dagger, “a simple test will suffice, then you will be returned to Jericho.”
Enid’s eyes widened at the blade, her mouth now dry as she realized just how fucked she was.
“Sir, I think you’re mistaken!” The scraggly merchant spoke, seemingly standing up for Enid, “she’s just a girl, she couldn’t possibly be a creature of the night!”
The holy warrior chuckled grimly, “or so you would think, but fear not, we’ll know her true colors soon enough.” He then yanked Enid’s arm closer as he brought the silver blade to her hand, “if her skin does not burn under my blade then she is what she says and then we can all move on.”
Enid watched as the earth slowed around her, the glint of the evening’s sun reflecting off the blade as it came closer to her skin making her heart hammer in her chest. Just as the silver was about to meet her palm her reflexes kicked in, her nails extended into long pointed colorful claws as she yanked her arm out of the warrior’s grip. She growled as her other hand slashed across the man’s face, slicing his cheek and leaving five long cuts that marred his skin.
Enid snarled as the warrior spat blood onto the floor and chuckled, “it is as I suspected. I could smell the stench of a disgusting werewolf on that carriage.”
Enid turned to the merchant, only for a moment, but just long enough to see the man’s concerned expression turn to absolute horror. She was no longer a girl to him, she was nothing but a monster. “What are you doing then!? Kill it!” He yelled as pointed his stubby finger at her.
“With pleasure,” the warrior said as he unsheathed his silver longsword and swung.
Enid ducked under the swing of his blade, strands of her hair falling to the ground as the sword barely missed her head. She then used the speed and strength she had been hiding to leap forward and clamp her claws around the man’s armored ankle and pull. She yanked his foot out from under him, forcing him onto his back with a heavy thud as he dropped his sword and tried to regain his breath.
Another warrior ran up, brandishing a shortsword and shield. Enid attempted to catch him off guard with a swipe of her claws but they simply sparked across the surface of his metal shield. In retaliation his sword jutted forward in an attempt to stab through Enid’s torso.
She bent her back to avoid the blade, she managed to protect her vitals but the sword sliced across her side. Her brown garb did little to protect her as the sword cut clean through, only to leave a nasty burning wound along her rib.
Enid hissed as she clutched her side, the silver leaving a burning sting of pain behind which clouded her mind. She blinked away the tears in her vision as she began to realize she was surrounded. Multiple holy warriors closed in on her, giving nowhere to escape.
She wondered if this was what her life was meant to be, a meaningless blip of nothing special. An outcast among outcasts, only to be brutally murdered by the church’s fanatical soldiers.
She looked off into the horizon and noticed how nice the sky looked, sunset had just begun and it brought out the brightest pinks, oranges, and reds she had ever seen. At least her last memory would be of something beautiful and vibrant.
Then she was snapped out of her mournful trance as black blade beheaded one of the holy warriors, his head landing with a wet thump. The caravan’s traders began screaming and yelling as horses began sprinting in a panic, the holy warriors began to bark commands and some even whispered prayers under their breath as they slowly backed away.
Enid turned to a tall woman with raven hair and cold eyes that stared directly into her soul. She was threatening, she was horrifying, and yet she was oddly beautiful. Then her black gauntlet reached out and grabbed Enid’s wrist and yanked her away.
Enid’s first reaction was to panic, her brain refused to let her believe that she still wasn’t in danger. If someone, or something, could strike that kind of fear into the holy warriors, that could only mean that whoever this woman was, she was far more dangerous than the church.
Enid growled as she pulled at her arm and tried to claw at the woman, “let go!” She screamed as she was yanked further into the darkness of the black forest. “Let me go!” She tried to demand, but it sounded more like begging.
The woman stopped and pulled her closer to jostle her, “stop!” The raven haired woman commanded. Her eyes were furious, murderous even.
Suddenly all of the strength in Enid’s body was sapped away, “please don’t kill me,” she whimpered as tears began to roll down her cheeks.
The woman’s eyes widened in surprise, she then noticed that she still held her great sword in her other hand while her gauntlet was wrapped tightly around Enid’s wrist. Her grip loosened as she slowly sheathed her sword on her back, “I’m not going to kill you.” Her expression ever so slightly softened, “I’m saving you.”
Enid blinked, her mind unraveling from pain and adrenaline, “what?”