“The Cursed Wench of Lucia Falls”
Somewhere, a student body of armed children gathers for assembly. The speaker addressing the young cadets and their teachers is a thirty-three year old Elder General. He tells his warrior people the famed story of his legendary encounter with the cursed wench of Lucia Falls.
“I was just a small boy, not a day older than four years, when I first encountered the cursed wench of Lucia Falls. Upon initial re-creation of the event, I understood why our people, the razor-toothed Vermanian Rodentianoids, had banished the fiend so many years ago. I was a gifted young scout; a Class G Infantrot with well-honed psychic ability. Nevertheless, her toxic aura alone was enough to cloud my intuition. Indeed, it was my poisoned senses that lured me to within her grasp.”
“What I witnessed of her entity was viler than anything I had ever conceived. Her fur had already gone far beyond the patching stage that normally marks a Rodentianoid’s final days. Those few curly strands that remained were silver and brittle. On contact they disseminated, like ash in a breeze. Her skin, as far as I can determine, had no true physical texture. By the looks of it, she was a smoky shadow of our Vermanian image. By her touch, things became ever more obtuse. As her overwhelming fog absorbed me, I felt as the undead must feel, numb and disgusted. It was a dreadful loss of control I experienced that day. There were no prerogatives or commands except for hers.
My father, a wise and respected Vermanian elder, would later explain that it was an evil spirit called ‘Peace,’ which had forced me to succumb to the wench’s will. Up until today, I have not dared speak that word aloud, for fear that the wench may return and offer me to her demon once more.”
A few of the children fidget anxiously in their seats. There appears to be a growing air of suspicion amongst the teenage Professassins. They recognize a brief addition to the story has been made.
“Upon my capture, I was ordered to drink a mysterious elixir. Of the wench’s many poisons, this was surely by far her deadliest. As the foul liquid quickly took its course through my small digestive track, I became more and more…”
There is a long silence as the Elder General struggles with his words; words he himself has spoken countless times. The Professassins look to each other with heightened expressions of alert.
Finally, the General continues: “I became more and more disillusioned. You see, the wench’s elixir contained a hallucinogenic toxin, which transported my psyche to a dream world of useless impotence. There were no battles to fight, no enemies to kill, no lands to conquer, and no war to win.”
All the young children look on in confused disbelief.
“Well, I’m personally honored to inform you that we need not fear the cursed wench’s mysticism any longer. Earlier today at zero-two-hundred hours, an elite squad of proud Rodentianoid warriors under my command bombed and destroyed Lucia Falls, leaving the cursed wench as dead as the rubble under which she now burns.”
The Professassins all stand as if on cue. The oldest speaks first.
“Lies,” the elder Professassin declares.
“You can see it in his face,” another shouts.
“He’s under the wench’s spell!”
“The evil spirit has him!”
“We must kill!”
The Professassins do what they have been trained to do. The Elder General stands frozen in shock as his pupils approach the stage. There is a final plea for mercy followed by consensual rejection. The assault does not yield a quick and efficient death. It is slow and grueling. The young children rise and yell in bloodlust. Every Professassin gets a turn, one after another, until finally there is nothing left of the Elder General to kill. The student body roars on in victory.