Firedawn » Lair » Huntress

Huntress

(#32486885)

Level 1 Pearlcatcher

Familiar

Ichor Nymph

Energy: 0/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

4.54 m

Wingspan

3.92 m

Weight

562.04 kg

Genetics

Shadow
Iridescent

Shadow
Shimmer

Shadow
Gembond

Hatchday

Apr 22, 2017
(7 years)

Breed

Adult
Pearlcatcher

Eye Type

Shadow
Common

Level 1 Pearlcatcher

EXP: 0 / 245

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

none

Biography

H E L E N A - B E R T I N E L L I- //- T H E- H U N T R E S S

- - - Every passing moment of her life was made to sever connections and ties to the Mafia, because Mafia is family, and worse, it was hers.

She was a victim. Perhaps no longer the panicky, scared young girl left staring emptily at the dead bodies and pools of blood before her, but sometimes, whenever she hung up the garb and took off the cowl that morphed into her sanctuary, she became just that. Reduced to just that. Felt just like that. A scared, tortured, traumatised victim; her sanity peeling away at her every time she returned to Helena Bertinelli, the godforsaken flashbacks and deluded dreams that thrown her howling and roaring in broken tears (in rage or fear she didn’t know), a thousand sleepless nights and a hundred outbursts more, paranoia eating at her being that left her alerted and tense, the relentless barrage of shattered thoughts until she couldn’t tell right from wrong, mentality and physiologically gone, damaged. Damnit, she hated that term.

Then, when she slipped on the gear, fished for her cross and tugged on the mask, she was Helena Bertinelli no longer. No longer the person whose entire family was slaughtered when she was eight, no longer the person who tried to hide away from her looming past, no longer the person that was tormented by her demons every passing night and day, no longer person who woke up basked in cold sweat each night, and no longer the person that survived the nightmares but was already dead, in the inside at least, anyway.

When she was the Huntress, she had no past. No trauma or horror or anything else she could’ve looked back on, no triggers to induce nightmares or flashbacks as she waded through blood and fight, and then, just like that, her fears were gone. It was a clean slate line that she made sure didn’t blur. She was a meance that prowled the streets when dusk fell. She was a nameless vigilente, terror of the streets and predator of the Mafia, in a small but futile attempt to take down the organisation that had orchestrated and executed the murder her family... that was her family, nonetheless. She became someone— something else.

And she liked it. She was unafraid, and invulnerable to her demons that had plagued her every night and day. She wasn’t scared, and every time she beat up a thug or murdered a murderer, she felt a scarce sense of satisfaction overflow her. But just as quick as it came, it left, leaving her alone and with the hollow, aching void in her chest that she’d felt when she was that scared, helpless little girl that watched as her entire family was slaughtered in front of her naked eye, and never left.

And then, when she took off that mask at the end of the night, she became Helena Bertinelli once more. She became just another mortal, vulnerable to the demons that she had murdered every night, in an attempt to keep them away and keep herself sane, in futile hope to cure herself, and for some time, it worked. For some time, it had worked.

Before her entire operation collapsed upon her. Before the tides had turned and roles were reversed, and now, the Huntress became the hunted and the victim that she was once so scared of becoming once more became her eventual refuge. Ironic.

But she wasn’t afraid now. She wasn’t scared now. She was done with being the victim, done with being absolutely helpless and vulnerable and done with letting the tormenters getting away with it, again and again. Because now, she was the Huntress, and they were her prey.

And now, she held vengeance in one hand and her crossbow in the other. His time was up, and this time, the tables were turned as the roles were reversed. She was the executioner, and he was the victim. And he wouldn’t let him get away from the acts of crime he’d committed, and she would make sure that he was bound to Hell as he were from the very beginning. He could run, but she would give chase. And she would wish for God to be on his side, but then, she would be lying.

- - - ... And once the deed was done and she’d wiped the blood, there was no surge of satisfaction, nor there was twisted happiness of the deed she’d committed, and the hollow void that was once ravaged with emotions; anger, hatred, loathe, had remained empty and hollow, like it always was.

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Exalting Huntress to the service of the Flamecaller will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.

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