*Instance recorded and archived by [[The Overseers|N.E.B.U.L.A.]]* *Entities recorded: [[Elaine Sonnen]]* *In-World date of instance: Unknown* # Transcript of Instance The alley was narrow, slick with the grime of a kingdom that had long forgotten its neglected corners. Pale, hesitant rays of light barely filtered through, illuminating little more than the damp stones beneath her feet. Elaine walked alone, her steps even, her gaze fixed ahead. While Floren was off gathering supplies in the marketplace proper, Elaine fancied herself a stroll. Despite being told not to wander off, she simply couldn’t help herself.  She knew what to expect. It was always the same in places like this—cities on the verge of collapse, where the stench of rot was as much spiritual as it was physical. The very walls seemed steeped in the filth of human greed, cruelty, and unchecked desire. Her hair bobbed gently with each step, her hands clasped behind her back in an almost leisurely fashion. There was no fear in her heart—fear was a luxury of the innocent, and innocence was something she had long since abandoned. Yet, she wore it well, a weapon as sharp as her blade. The first sound—a boot scraping against stone—was right on cue and almost laughably predictable. She kept walking, letting them think they still had the upper hand. Her appearance—delicate, almost ethereal in the dim light—would play into their assumptions. It always did. Low chuckles followed, rough and jagged, like the scraping of rocks. Then came the voice, thick with malice. “Where do you think you’re going, love?” Elaine stilled, her back still turned, her expression serene. She let the silence stretch, tension coiling tighter around them like a snare. The air thickened, rank with the smell of sweat and unwashed bodies. “Too pretty to be wandering alone,” another voice chimed in, closer now. She could hear them, five or six, circling like wolves with their prey. She exhaled softly, a slow, deliberate breath. They would try, as they always did. It was more fun that way.  Her fingers brushed the shaft of glaive at her back, but she did not draw it. Not yet. There was no need to rush. Let them think they had a chance. One of them, emboldened by her silence, stepped closer, his grin spreading wide. “A lady like you, wandering these streets alone? Must be lost,” he taunted, his voice dripping with mock concern. “Don’t worry, we’ll take real good care of ya.” Elaine’s gaze remained forward, the smile on her face rendering her expression unreadable, as if the words hadn’t even reached her ears. Inside, though, her patience lingered on the edge, a beast waiting to be unleashed. Another of them reached out, his dirty fingers going for the fabric of her sleeve. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing here anyway?” he purred. Elaine moved before he could flinch, her hand snapping out like a whip. Her gauntleted fingers wrapped around the man’s wrist with a grip far stronger than her delicate appearance suggested. His cocky smile faltered, eyes widening as he tried to pull away, but her hold was iron. Bones creaked under the pressure, the man letting out a strangled gasp as pain flashed across his face. Elaine’s gaze met his, cold and unblinking, as if she were holding nothing more than a fragile vase. “I would ask,” she said softly, her voice measured, “that you refrain from touching me with your vile hands. I’ve only just had this attire cleaned.” The thug’s breath came in ragged bursts as he struggled against her grip, but it was futile. Her hand tightened, and with a sickening crack, the bones in his wrist gave way. With a flick of her wrist, she released him, letting him crumble to the ground, clutching his shattered hand. Elaine leaned down slightly, her tone carrying a faint, detached pity. “How unfortunate.”  “You bitch!” one of them spat, drawing a rusted sword. Another pulled a dagger from his belt, eyes wild with anger. Elaine sighed softly, her faux disappointment evident in the slight downturn of her lips. “You were given a chance at salvation, and you’ve just squandered it.” There was the slightest hint of joy in her voice. This was the expected outcome, and the one she preferred. They lunged as one, clumsy and uncoordinated, their anger blinding them to the danger that still loomed in her calm stance. Elaine didn’t flinch. Her glaive was a blur of gold and death, cutting through the air with an elegance that contrasted the brutality of its purpose. The first thug swung his sword wildly, but Elaine’s glaive intercepted it with a sharp clang. She twisted her weapon, disarming him in one swift motion, sending the blade clattering to the ground. Before he could react, the blade of her glaive pierced his side, slipping between his ribs with precision. He gasped, the air stolen from his lungs as he crumpled to the ground. The second thug closed in with his dagger, aiming for her throat. But Elaine moved faster, stepping gracefully aside, her movements as fluid as a dance. The man’s arm swung wide, his balance thrown off, and Elaine capitalized on his mistake. She brought the shaft of her glaive up, slamming it into his gut. He doubled over with a grunt, and in the same breath, she swung the blade in a wide arc, the sharp edge slicing cleanly across his back. He dropped, blood pooling at her feet, but Elaine's pristine expression never wavered. The others hesitated, but only for a heartbeat. Another charged, more out of desperation than strategy, his sword raised high. Elaine watched him approach with a calm that unnerved him, and just as he was about to strike, she spun gracefully, the glaive sweeping low to take his legs out from under him. He hit the ground hard, his weapon clattering from his grasp. Elaine loomed over him. "May Solara burn your soul a thousand times over in pursuit of absolution and purity," she said softly, almost gently, before driving the tip of her glaive through his chest. The last thug stood frozen, their eyes wide with disbelief as they surveyed the scene around them. The bloodied bodies of their comrades lay crumpled on the ground, and fear crept into their expression. Their grip loosened on their weapon and they stumbled back, eyes darting toward the narrow gap in the alley behind them. They turned and bolted, desperation propelling them as their boots splashed through the grime, hoping to escape the nightmare they’d stumbled into. Elaine’s eyes flicked toward him, unhurried. “Running will not save you,” she murmured, raising one hand. With a soft whisper of incantation, her fingers curled around the fleeing thug. They froze in place, as if being restrained by invisible chains. They froze mid-stride, body locking in place as though time itself had stopped. Their wide, panicked eyes darted around, but their limbs refused to obey. Elaine walked toward them with calm, measured steps, her boots clicking softly on the cobblestones, the silence between each tap almost deafening in the alley. As she approached, her eyes softened into something resembling pity—though it lacked the warmth of mercy. "You should have accepted the gift of death with dignity," she said, her voice like silk. "Now you face judgment with neither pride nor valor." The man’s breath came in ragged bursts, though his body remained locked in place, unable to escape or even speak. His eyes were wild with terror, his mind racing, but it was no use. Elaine stopped in front of him, her presence an immovable force. “Oh well, perhaps in the next life,” she said. The man’s fate was sealed before the glaive even fell. With one fluid stroke, the blade pierced his heart, and his body sagged in the grip of the spell before crumpling lifelessly to the ground as the magic released him. Elaine watched as the body of the fleeing thug crumpled to the ground, his life snuffed out as easily as one extinguishes a candle. Silence settled over the alley, save for the pained whimpers coming from the assortment of fallen bodies. Her eyes fell on the last remaining thug, the one whose wrist she had shattered earlier. He lay on the ground, clutching his ruined arm, his face twisted in agony. His bravado had long since drained away, leaving behind only fear and desperation. Elaine approached with slow, deliberate steps, her glaive resting at her side, its blade still gleaming with the blood of his comrades.  He lay sprawled on the ground, cradling his shattered wrist, his face contorted with pain and terror. His eyes darted between her and the bodies of his fallen allies, as though searching for some miraculous escape that would never come. She crouched beside him, her movements graceful and unhurried. “How many?” she asked. The thug blinked, confusion clouding his fear. “W-What?” “How many lives have you ruined, how many souls have you stained with your vile actions? Surely I wasn’t the first.” “I-I don’t....” he stammered, his voice weak and trembling. “Please... we didn’t mean...” She shifted her weight slightly, and with a sudden, swift movement, she drove her glaive into his arm. The blade pierced flesh and bone with ease, pinning his arm to the cobblestone beneath him. His scream tore through the alley, a sharp, ragged cry of agony. Elaine’s gaze darkened with cold amusement. “Didn’t mean?” she echoed, her tone mocking. “Of course you did.” Elaine’s smile widened as she watched him writhe beneath her. “Now, now,” she chided, her voice calm despite the violence. “We both know you enjoyed causing others pain. Isn’t it only fair that you experience it yourself?” He gasped, choking on his own breath as tears streamed down his face. “P-Please... please.. ..Liana…. help me… .” he whimpered, his voice breaking with desperation. Elaine tilted her head, her expression almost curious. "Liana?" she echoed, her tone dripping with mockery. "Do you truly believe the Goddess of Theft will intervene on your behalf?" The thug whimpered, his eyes filled with terror, clinging to whatever hope he could muster. "Please... I beg you..." Elaine leaned down slightly, her voice soft and venomous. "There are no gods here to save you," she whispered. "No divine hand to offer you forgiveness, no merciful deity to lift you from your misery. There is only me. And I have no mercy left to give." With that, she withdrew the glaive from his arm in one swift motion, and before he could cry out again, she slashed the blade across his neck. His body jerked once as blood spat out of the wound before he lay still. Elaine stood and began wiping her glaive clean. She gazed down at her blood splattered clothes. It looked like Floren would have extra work to do after all, not that she would mind.  Elaine sighed deeply, her smile still etched on her face. Without another glance at the blood-streaked alley behind her, Elaine turned and continued on her stroll.