Correl of Otley
Correl woke in a daze, and with a cry from her throat that came out strangled. She reached to the back of her head instinctively, and felt a warm liquid tough her fingertips. When she brought her hand to her eyes she saw red. She cursed. It was still dark in the corridor and no one else seemed to come around. In front of her, she saw the door to the study was pushed open, and a trail of black blood seemed to disappear beyond the frame. “Lord Brighid.” She whispered, and began to stand upright.
She walked over to the door and could clearly hear sounds coming from the bottom of the stairs. It sounded scared and violent. Winston… She felt so stupid! But how was she supposed to have known that Winston was one of the killers they were looking for. A voice in her head told her it was her fault for refusing to believe anyone in this house could be a killer, but she ignored it to focus on getting down the stairs as quick as she could.
At the bottom of the stairs there was a second door, also pushed open, and light poured from inside. Correl considered trying to use the element of surprise to her advantage, but she instead took her blade from her back, the hilt covered in her own blood. She must have connected with it when she hit the wall.
She walked into a mess, literally. There was paper and books everywhere, almost as much as there was blood. The smell was overpowering. It took a little bit of time to locate Lord Brighid and Winston, and when she finally got eyes on them she gasped. Winston looked nothing like the boy she promised to visit, dark red skin patterning over his face and arms, and wide yellow eyes, he looked more like some wild animal wearing clothes. He was screeching and hissing, and there were several bruises and cuts along his face from what Correl could see.
Black blood patterned across the floor. Only a few steps away, along the ground was Lord Brighid and a corpse. The Lord was hardly on her feet, sitting down and facing Winston with a broken sword held tightly enough in her hand that she was bleeding from the effort. She too was bleeding heavily. Correl’s eyes were drawn to the corpse immediately. Had someone else come down here while she was unconscious, and lost their life assisting Lord Brighid in battle?
She didn’t get much time to ask questions, as Winston spotted her and screeched loud enough that Correl flinched, shifting the sword in her grip. Winston rushed her on four legs, jumping up to attack her. Which Correl only slightly managed to dodge. Her sword was heavier than she thought it would… she was using Lord Brighid’s blade.
Correl swore, pushing Winston off and sending him into a pile of paper and books. She grabbed the wrong sword! Lord Brighid’s clunky, claymore-type blade would be no use to her. She looked to her mentor who seemed legitimately shocked to see her. Because Correl could think of nothing else, the first thing she said was, “Are you hurt?” And of course she was, but they didn’t have time for a full length conversation at the moment.
Winston bound back from the pile in an explosion of fury, coming once again for Correl. Correl grunted in response, having to once again block an attack with Lord Brighid’s sword, and realized that Winston was not attacking with a weapon anymore. He had claws, sharp claws that he was scratching at the sword with. Again she batted him away, “Lord Brighid, can you stand?” Correl shouted, trying to be heard over Winston’s screaming.
Correl looked back to Lord Brighid and found her nodding, She looked like she couldn’t stand. Correl realized that Brighid had a sizable amount of wounds on her legs covered in blood and hissed. In a rare feat of strength, Correl turned to Lord Brighid and stabbed the sword down in between the two of them. It stranded perfectly still now imbedded between the stones of the floor. “This is yours.” She stated bluntly, “It makes a pretty good shield, if you need one.” She pulled her own sword from her hip.
Winston acted without purpose, he kept coming back to attack Correl and kept getting smacked back when she was using Lord Brighid’s blade. But now, she was using her own, and when he went to attack her this time, Correl ducked his jump, sliced up and across his stomach and pulled him back to the ground. She was quicker with this sword, and she didn’t need two hands to wield it. He fell to the ground squirming and screaming, and the next time he attacked he didn’t go for Correl, this time, rushing across the ground like a viper, he went to attack Lord Brighid.
Correl watched Lord Brighid flinch, backing up further against the corpse behind her, before brandishing that broken blade in her hands, and raking it against the side of Winston’s head when he came close. Correl herself tried to close in after Winston when he shirked back, screeching over his new injuries. He was just too fast and slippery, like a snake.
Winston almost skittered away from them, standing back to his full height, and Correl had to nearly bite her tongue to keep from gasping. He was hardly the same boy she’d just talked through the day with. Not the same child who she’d humored for days on end. His skin was dark red, from the top of his head to his feet. He had eyes like a lizards, wide and yellow, burning with hatred, and horns curling out the top of his head. He raised the blade he’d kept with him and pointed it directly towards Correl and Lord Brighid. “You! I’m going to enjoy killing both of you!” He cried out, seeming to have regained at least a small amount of sense.
He charged at them with a renewed speed, intercepting a forward strike from Correl and going around it to swipe at her sides. He managed to swing at her twice, before bouncing away to avoid Correl swinging back to hit him again. She grunted in pain using her free hand to hold against her new wounds. He whizzed past her while she faltered, once again going for Lord Brighid, his target. This time, the lady knight was on one knee, favoring the less injured of the two to stand on, and holding the handle of her sword, she chucked the broken piece of blade directly at Winston, and watched him dodge, only to catch him in the face, swinging the broad blade like a bat, and sending him careening into a near bookshelf.
Correl ignored her wounds for a second to help rush over. “Can you stand?” She repeated to Lord Brighid, relieved at least when the taller woman grunted in response. She started to help her up, but stopped short when Lord Brighid faltered. One of her legs was extremely scarred up, with slashes from what look to be small knives and different sets of teeth marks, all marred with black blood. Lord Brighid stood lightly on that foot, putting all her weight on the other side, and using her blade as a makeshift walking stick.
Correl made no remarks but noted that Lord Brighid had definitely been through the ringer with this fight, and coming into the next part of it with a disadvantage. But there was nowhere to just set her down and say “alright now, you stay here, I’ll be right back.” Not in this room, and Correl wasn’t sure her mentor would make it back up the stairs on her own. And Correl wasn’t sure she could face whatever it was Winston was now on her own. No, they would have to stick together. Correl looked back to the floor, where Lord Brighid had been sitting. Where a corpse laid half-buried in a mountain of books.
What a sad grave marker, Correl thought, taking the smallest moment to create a reminder to visit and make a proper grave later when they were done. If they had time, and didn’t have to join her soon after. She’d almost made mention of it to Lord Brighid, finally turning from the sight, when she caught sight of Winston leaving the mess of books he’d created. He wasn’t running towards Correl, or Brighid however, it seemed he was heading for the door.
“No!” Correl cried out, and in the heat of the moment, chucking her sword like a spear towards Winston, managing to pin him against the desk by his arm. She had little to no time to celebrate her victory, as Lord Brighid began to rush over to Winston and Correl joined her. As they approached him, Winston was screaming and wailing, hissing and biting, both at the two knights and at the sword that pinned him to place. Correl was instructed to take her sword back. Hesitantly she did so, and at that moment, Brighid scooped Winston up by the back of his neck, holding him in the air like a stray cat.
“Perhaps now,” Lord Brighid’s voice came out hoarse, “you’ll be more inclined to answer my questions…” Winston screamed, swinging wildly at her, but with the Lord’s arms being so much longer, he missed every time.
“No! No no no! No fair!” He yelled, “You answer my questions! Who are you! Who sent you to mess with my hunt!” He cried in vain. Correl made a noise in the back of her throat, even as a killer, and shape-shifting assassin, it seemed that he still whined when he was caught. Brighid didn’t entertain the question, so Correl answered it for her, “She is Brighid, Lord of Gauwynn… You’d best answer her, monster. No more of your tricks.”
Winston stopped his struggling for a moment, glaring straight at Correl, his eyes wild, he gestured back behind, towards a shallow grave of books, papers, and blood.
“Then who was she!?” He screamed.
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