The Bitch of Berez

[RickDeckard]

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I had a normal life once, parents were proud servants of our Burgomaster.

I rebelled, refused to be married off, so I was put to work.

The inn is where I found the late years of my teenage life spent working, drinks were served, songs sung and dances performed.

The war came.

They took them from me, those rebels took them from me.

Parents. Work. Home.

I will take everything from them.

Even if the River Luna flowed with their blood, it would not be enough.

-V

[RickDeckard]

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It is said I don't feel anything by some.

Psychopath.

Sociopath.

It may or may not be true.

But I felt the pain that seared through me the first down I was cut down in the line of duty.

The flicker of a warm candle in a cold winter night, the giggle and warmth of a blonde hair girl in an inviting inn over some mundane investigation.

That joy turned to ash before me.

The harsh, foreign taint of witchery.

Pain.

Then darkness.

They say death changes you.

And after a few times of meeting death's cold embrace, all it does is fill me with one emotion.

Rage.

-V

[RickDeckard]

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As quick as I breathed my last.

I breathed yet again.

And continue to do so.

Everytime they cut me down I get back up.

And it only makes the anger swell.

But that anger I felt was nothing like the first time I took someone's life.

I don't remember the who, what or why.

But all I remember is that feeling.

That feeling.

It made me feel...

Alive.

-V

[RickDeckard]

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They couldn't kill me.

They didn't like I unraveled them.

Shining a light to their deeds, their wickedness.

So they tried to remove me from my post.

Politics, rare for those rats.

It was very underhanded, if it wasn't directed my way I could have appreciated it.

But I did not like being dragged to the Sergeant's office.

It could have worked, it almost did.

But they made one error.

They accused me of the wrong crimes.

I'm guilty of far more.

And when my hands wrap around their necks I won't spare them.

No mercy.

-V

[RickDeckard]

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It's so close.

It's almost in my grasp.

I can feel it.

I can feel the gold pin on my cloak.

Months of work, lies and pain.

I hunger for it, I yearn for it, I crave it.

I desire it more than sex, violence, revenge.

I want it.

It's power.

No one else can have my prize.

It's mine.

MINE

-V

[RickDeckard]

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Why do they care what I like?

What I love?

I'm not sure I've ever felt love.

Or if I can.

There was a flicker of it once, the blonde made me feel something beyond lust.

She had this infectious smile, this laugh, the way the flicker of a candle flame highlighted her features, her figure, how grateful she was to me.

But it's gone now.

Those people, those rats that fester in the sewers cowering in their filth from law and justice.

They tried to weaponise a part of me I've hid for their games.

Used it against me because I dare show them the same sword they showed to my parents.

They brought something I reveled in the dark to light.

And I hated it.

I hate them

I HATE THEM



It's the only time I felt pain in my heart, denying to the gold pin what I love to save a job I use to hurt others.

-V

[RickDeckard]

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I sold my soul for black and red.

It starts off as one little favour.

Reward is dangled above your head.

Sweet as strawberry, my teeth chatter for the sweet juice and what lies within.

I exchange skulls for gold.

But it never stops at one promise.

There's always another promise for a favour.

But it's not a promise if a dagger is plunged into your back.

It's a threat.

But I turn to it everytime.

My pockets weigh so heavy from the clatter of gold that my conscience is clear.

And maybe one day I can be the one who delivers sweet promises to a desperate fool.

Because I do not want to end up in a shallow grave.

Never again.

-V

[RickDeckard]

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When my brown cloak was first put on me I made an error, I was only new to the city.

I strayed from my patrol.

The silver pin told the gold pin what I did and it set me back.

For WEEEKS.

It humiliated me.

They humiliated me.

The silver pin guilted me and threw me to the wolves to save their hide.

I buried the gold pin and used his demise to further my goals.

The silver pin can not over take me.

I will throw the silver pin or any pin to the wolves if they make me feel that pain again.

It would delight me if I could tear them apart myself.

-V

[RickDeckard]

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I felt two extremes of emotions in a short time.

Uncontrolled rage, the sort that blinds you into darkness and you surrender yourself to the emotion.

Where you lose control of your limbs and anyone in your path can be a victim.

Euphoria, the sort that transcends your body and makes you limp.

Where the most wonderful lover in your bed or most potent of opium can't compare.

All because a silver pin was replaced with a gold pin.

It begins.

-V

[RickDeckard]

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I have a fatal flaw.

It's not the corruption, indifference, violence, rage, coldness.

I just can't help but to throw myself at a pretty face, no matter the consequences.

And what a pretty face she is.

Sing-songy voice, the eyes that draw me like a siren's call, the cheery smile, the way she dresses and looks.

Days pass with her, filling the void.

When I felt her arms wrapped around me.

I felt alive.

I must have her.

If I can't have her.

No one can.

-V

[RickDeckard]

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The walls are closing in on me.

It's suffocating.

The gold pin is suffocating, but I have no way out for now as much as I want to run.

Where once I was proactive, I'm reactive.

Eyes look at me and suspect me of the truth, I know they know.

The jig is up.

Too many close calls, facades get harder to pull off.

But if I'm going down?

I'm taking as many as I can with me.

-V

[RickDeckard]

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A gold pin disappears on a brown desk.

They won.

I lost.

Damn.

To new beginnings, free of Barovian superstition.

Free to be with who I please.

Do as I want.

No more pretending, but it still stings.

It hurts.

-V

[RickDeckard]

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I only got a taste of immense wealth.

I only got a taste of unbridled freedom.

Only a taste of guilt free desires fulfilled with the fairer sex.

Rich by Barovian Standards, Meagre by Outlanders.

Back to Berez I go, to rebuild childhood memories.

Though I will be always looking over my shoulder.

Come and get me, bounty hunters.

I'll be waiting.

-V

[RickDeckard]

FIN