Chapter Text
Maldora walked a path she's been on many times before, one her body knew by pure instinct even as her mind was drifting in a sea of blood and gore. She had been neglecting her duties to Father Bhaal, utterly distracted by Gortash and his machinations, and now she was being punished— her head split and pounded with the need, the Dark Urge inside her demanding to be sated.
She knows what will happen if she doesn't satisfy it herself.
The night was deathly still, and she could have been the only being in the world— a glimpse of her glorious future, the end of times she will bring in Father's name. She could almost taste it, she would be so close, if only she didn't let herself get distracted. She could be killing dozens a day if she didn't waste hours on the preening little lordling.
But fantasy meant nothing without action, and when Maldora heard a small, hidden moan from the bowels of the park, and knew she had found her mark.
A young couple was enthralled in a midnight tryst, their little hiding spot was tucked away from the rest of the park, a gazebo overtaken by the elements. It was dreamy and mystical, covered in vines and grass and flowers, like a scene out of a cheesy romance novel. She took note of it— likely wouldn't be the last time she'll find a pair of unfortunates here.
Maldora crawled over a bush, peering over the pair, too consumed in each other to notice the danger lurking. The male was bulky and strong-looking, she'd have to take care of him first. His hair was black and spiky, and he had a ridiculous tanline, likely from working outside. He was... gorgeous, familiar, and she refused to let her brain linger on whom he reminded her of.
The female was skinny and pale, and oh-so-pretty, weak, defenseless. She'd break so easily, so whorishly easy, under her knife, her meatflesh opening for her blade like how she opened her legs for her doomed lover.
This... this is what she needs.
"In Bhaal's name," she whispers to herself, before pouncing off the bush onto the coupling pair.
She seized the male first, stalking behind him and thrusting her blade into his shoulder-meat as he rutted like a dog into his pretty bitch. He had screamed and tried to fight back, but she had dragged him off his lady love and stomped his leg until she heard the lovely bone-crackle.
He screeches like a banshee as she kicked, kicked, kicked him in the pretty-face and stomach, clawing at her calf like a wild alley cat before she snapped his wrist under the weight of her well-worn boot. She couldn't stop herself from picturing Gortash as the one under her boot, kicking in his lying smile.
But the male didn't sing as pretty as the lordling would have. Gortash would cursed her name, spit at her, shouted obscenely as ruined him. This male, this boy, simply cried and pleaded to spare the girl. It didn't take long for Maldora to get bored of his rambling, so she quieted him forever, smashing his head underfoot until his brain-mush splattered across the dirt.
She prays, when the time finally comes, his lordling lookalike doesn't fall as quickly.
The female, of course, had taken off, but it was easy to catch up with her and drag her half-naked form back to her lover. Maldora ran like a bullette and grabbed her by the hair, hauling her kicking-screaming back to her lover until the hair ripped from her soft-headed scalp.
The male made her think of Gortash, but this little thing was so utterly her opposite. Pale and blonde and pretty in a soft, delicate way she would never dream of, like so many of the lordling's own bedmates.
Maldora imagined she was one of his whore as she straddled her, putting her knee to her stomach as she brought her blade down again-again-again. Every time she saw one of the sluts slip out of the lordling's homs, she'd follow them, imagine pinning them to the ground like this, hack-hack-hacking away at their pretty little faces just like this, scarring them just like she was.
She never let herself do it, no, they were important, dukes and patriars and others dumb enough to fall into the viper's jaw. Pawns in Enver's game. It would foolish, risking the Banite's wrath for making a mess, and risking Father's for killing in the name of anyone but Him. But this girl was no one, a nobody, and soon she'd be nothing.
The girl gurgled on her lifesblood, shaking weak hand reaching for her throat, and falling limp. Maldora carved into her chest cavity, between her half-exposed breasts, and teared out her heart, before tossing it to her lover's broken feet.
Maldora pulls away, panting, wiping the blood from her eyes, and licking her dagger clean, taking it in as the lovers mingled on her tongue. Normally, Maldora disposed of her kills, as to not attract the attention of the authorities, but this... this was too pretty a kill to hide. She was sure the word would get back to Gortash, maybe it would teach him to stop toying with her.
Maldora arranged the lovers face down, curled them around each other like they fell asleep in the afterglow, and dragged a blanket over their cooling bodies. She wonders how long it will take for someone to find them, if they'll try to wake them before discovering their fate.
It was a beautiful sacrifice, and Father's pride had filled her belly, but it wasn't enough. Her head still ached with the Urge, her blood still sung for more, her fingers still twitched with the need to claw and scratch and tear, her groin...
Maldora groans in frustration, knowing she can't stick around, and scurries off like the rat she is into the night.
She needs more.