A Desert Slaughter

Desierto. A lawless land of sand and misery where the common person struggled to survive. It was honestly just a dump outside the major cities and there were probably more bandits skuking the country than there were in any other. Not a place for the faint of heart and for one woman in particular, she knew that all too well. Her human half had been born and raised in this very country, a time that the witch herself did not look back on fondly. Mages were looked down upon heavily and Medeia had been endlessly frustrated by the status quo of the place. She had spent her early years burying herself in any historical tome she could find, attempting to discover the road to power in order to escape the hell that had been her early life and thankfully, after years of study and searching, she had come across her first lacrima. It had been the start of a chain of events that would change her life forever and now, after all this time, she had reached the level of power that she had always dreamed of. Strength that very few mages could truly match and as the angel looked upon the desert spread out in front of her, a smile would cross her features. She had already closed the book on her angelic past, today would be the closure of her human hosts.

“Oh, Desierto. How I despise you so.” The witch uttered, dressed in her usual and rather revealing outfit, her sickle hanging from her back. “I hope that you are ready for a little fun, my dearest Armina, as I am sure that we will have plenty of it today.”

A familiar chuckle could be heard from her right, where her most loyal ally would be standing. Outfitted in her typical maid outfit, her enormous axe already in her hands. “You have brought me to some strange places but this must be one of the most dreary. I hope that the action will make up for the view. Why are we here, Mistress? This sand is becoming a real pain.” Irritated, she would shake her head, causing a few specks of sand to fall.

“This body was raised here and I believe that a visit is well overdue.” Medeia replied. “Those who we meet will not appreciate our magical gifts and will become hostile as soon as they realise we have them. Fortunately, I have no intention of playing nice with them today and our goal is to return to the birthplace of this form and turn the place into a crater. Do not feel the need to hold back, slaughter all in your path.”

“Oh, that sounds absolutely heavenly.” The maid answered, her large wings spreading out from her back. “Lead the way, Mistress. I am with you, as always.”

“No slacking.” The Ace threatened jokingly, her own purple coloured wings emerging too. “Otherwise you will be spending another night in my clutches.”

“What kind of threat is that to make?” Armina laughed, her eyes twinkling. “I spend pretty much every night in your loving grasp, unless you happen to be entertaining someone else. I guess I will have to be lazy now and incur your wrath.”

“None of the other maids would dare talk to me like that.” The purple eyed witch chided, an amused tone to her voice.

“I know that I can get away with it.” Came the smart mouthed reply.

Laughing together, the pair would then take off and start their journey over the sands of the desert, eager to shed a little Desierto blood.

(604 Words)

The desert seemed to go on forever and as the two women flew across the vast sand filled land, Medeia could not help but feel slightly nostalgic. Life was hard for all those who were not of royal blood and her family had not had a great deal of money. They had not been destitute as such but were not exactly rich either. She had despised that from an early age, never satisfied with her place in the world and always wanting more. That desire to become more than what she was had pushed her through the darkest days and given her the drive that she had needed to succeed. At first, she had simply wanted to gain more status with her own people but as her craving for power and knowledge had increased, so had her desires. Her wish to be known among the people became more and more distorted until it reached the precipice. Total control and domination over all those that she deemed to be worthy of her time. That hunger and want had never died and today, just as back then, the angel desired that above all.

Where did this desire for domination first show itself physically? She had been approached by an older man, one night when returning home. The raven haired girl was only 16 at the time but that made no difference to the filthy male. He pestered and tried to take her for his own but Medeia had always been prepared for such a scenario. Never had she felt any affection towards any man and the thought even back then had sickened her. So, when he became upset regarding her defiance, he tried to strike her. Dodging the blow, the girl pulled a knife that had been hidden by her cloak and plunged it into stomach, twisting the blade and pulling it down. Jumping backwards, she avoided his body as it crumpled to the ground as his blood and innards stained the sand covered ground. She had done it on instinct and felt no fear at all. She never looked back after that and her research into the mysteries of power increased ten fold. For the first time, she had ended the life of another. The first of many.

“Mistress! What is that?” Armina would suddenly yell, snapping Medeia out of her thoughts.

Focusing back on the present, Medeia would find herself and her maid travelling towards what seemed to be a large camp. There were dozens of tents littering the sand, as well as a few more sturdy buildings, most notably a few towers that were scattered around the place. Their purpose seemed obvious enough to the witch and a frown crossed her features as the duo drew near.

“A slaver camp, by the looks of it. These fools are not going to be friendly, be prepared.” Medeia replied, her hand moving back and pulling the sickle from its place on her back.

“Should we just wipe them out then? I know that they are not our targets but they are obviously going to be a nuisance.” The maid asked, turning her gaze towards her mistress.

“I suppose it would be a nice warm up. By all means, my dear. If we are lucky, we might just find a nice girl to take back home and have a little fun with.” Medeia answered with a smirk.

“Well, if I was not motivated enough already. I most certainly am now.” The well endowed beauty joked in response.

The slavers, as expected, were not all that welcoming and as soon as the two angels moved into range, shots could be heard coming from the towers. The bullets were not all that hard to dodge though and the two soon split up, in order to take out the shooters. It could not be said for certain but the shooters seemed to be rather nervous as their shots became wilder as the flying beings closed in. Medeia simply smiled at the thought, as she tossed her sickle like a boomerang towards her foe. The weapon flew true and smashed into her target, the force of which knocked him backwards and over the back edge of the tower, sending him plummeting to his demise. The soft sandy landing would be unable to help him, as he was done the moment her weapon had hit him. Reaching out with her arm, Medeia would patiently wait as her weapon returned to her, coming to a rest inside her outstretched limb.

The cleansing of the scum had begun.

(760 Words)
(1364 TWC)

A second scream soon pierced through the air as Armina’s large axe cleaved her target almost in two. It was a monstrous attack but such was the maid’s strength that it did not wear her out in the slightest. With a laugh, she would fly around to the supports of the tower and cleave through them too, resulting in the tower collapsing in a heap. It would no doubt attract the attention of the other slavers, which was precisely what she was hoping for. She had to put on a good show for her mistress and as soon as she saw her next foes exiting their tents with weapons drawn, that was all it took for her to smile wickedly and embrace her inner sadist. Her axe still covered in blood, she tore towards them recklessly, swinging her axe in massive arcs, activating one of her abilities in order to increase her physical might. It would soon become a bloodbath and as she combined her freakish strength with her dazzling speed, the purple haired woman would bathe in the crimson liquid that shed from her foes. It was all too easy and there was little the outmatched slavers could do.to stop the rampaging woman.

Nearby, Medeia would be engaging her own foes. Using little more than her sickle in order to defeat them. By channelling her magical strength into the weapon, it allowed her strikes to strike with horrific results and as the first slaver almost turned to dust by the force of her initial attack, the others immediately panicked and tried to run. It was typical of such a cowardly group but the witch supposed that she could not truly blame them. To fight someone of her caliber was more than they could have possibly imagined and she mused that perhaps even she would have fled if the positions had been reversed. Still, that did not mean that she would simply allow them to leave and with a wave of her hand, she would create a tornado of sand that lifted the closest dozen or so slavers into the air. Her sand was far more potent than those of Desierto though and it easily tore through the clothing and bodies of her targets. They screamed and screeched as they were shredded completely, leaving little more than bones behind when her whirlwind finally stopped. It was simple but yet satisfying at the same time.

The two women were turning the camp into a death zone and the bodies were soon beginning to pile up. There was no quarter given and the slaves that were able to see the sight for themselves were utterly dumbfounded by what they saw, uncertain as to whether they should be frightened or grateful for the sudden intervention. Neither Armina nor Medeia paid them any heed for the moment though and simply resumed their massacring. After a while, they began to start counting, a game to amuse themselves while they worked. It was easy to hear where the maid was though, as her joyful screams were so loud that they were almost painful on the ears. She was truly a maniac when it came to battle but she was Medeia’s maniac and that was all that mattered to the witch.

“This is so much fun!” The maid could be heard shouting, followed by a horrible shriek as her blade cut through yet another slaver, blood splashing everywhere. She was completely covered in it by now but Armina did not care at all. With a massive leap, the maid would then dart towards yet another cowering male, her blade coming down on top of his head, ending his life in a moment.

Admiring both her own work and that of her maid, Medeia’s attention would be captured by a rather tall figure approaching her. His garb was different from the others. The leader perhaps?

(648 Words)
(2012 TWC)

He was large indeed and as he came closer, Medeia found her head tilting upwards slightly in order to see him properly. A muscular male, wielding two machetes and dressed in a far more elaborate style than the others. Clearly, he had made a considerable sum for his nefarious deeds and as he stared down at the mage, he was anything but happy. That being said, he made no effort to attack her and simply stood in silence for some time, as though he was trying to get a read on her. In the background, the sounds of Armina cutting through his men could still be heard, which brought a smile to Medeia’s face. He, however, did not seem to be all that amused.

“I have no idea what in the name of the three sultans you are playing at but it stops now.” His voice was deep and if it was likely that he would be quite intimidating to most. “You have made a grave error by attacking us and I will make sure that both you and the other savage will pay dearly for it.”

“Your men began this by attacking us. Perhaps if you had used your brain and kept your men from firing at anyone they see then this could have been averted. No, that is cruel of me to say. This was always going to be the result of us finding you. I do not care about your motivations nor whoever you may have connections with so do not waste my time and yours by spouting any of that kind of foolishness.” Medeia replied, her tone no nonsense as she looked up at him. “I and my maid are going to wipe your pathetic camp off of this planet and all that will be able to be found of any of you will be your bones, if that.”

“Is that all you peons are capable of?” Armina could be heard saying in the background, completely oblivious to what was happening elsewhere and focused entirely on her reaping. Her eyes were wild with lust and devilry, as her weapon of death continued to carve and clatter its way through the seemingly endless supply of bodies. With a flick of her wrists, she would summon a chain and swing it towards her latest victim, catching him around the neck and then giving it a powerful tug, pulling him towards her and then following it up with a massive strike with her axe. A lovely combination and one that turned the poor fool into little more than paste.

“You hear that?” Medeia asked him. “That is the sound of my dearest Armina butchering your men and nothing I say will stop her until she has had her fill. The sultans will not save you nor anyone else and if they attempt to stick their noses in my business then I will tear this entire country apart. Now, face your death like someone with dignity rather than a cockroach.”

(501 Words)
(2513 TWC)
(Freeform 1: 2500/2500)
(New WC: 13)