Slave of the Satyr

Sorry for the long break, back now! Here’s something a little more story based regarding Val and one of her defining moments. Hope ya like it!

Val lives under an oath to do no harm to others. A pacifist of pure heart, but it was not always so. .

It goes back to a single moment in her life, when she was enslaved to a Satyr for over two years. The Satyr was secretly gathering rare ingredients for a ritual that would use Val as the catalyst. Her youth and beauty would be drained from her to help the vile Satyr regain his Elven visage that he had lost so long ago. It would be a ritual she would not survive.

At the moment of the sacrifice, Val wrestled the blade from her captor and plunged it into his chest during the struggle. His warm blood splattered across her naked body and she could do nothing but listen to his horrific agonizing death. Unable to even watch him die.

In his final moments, the Satyr cursed the collar upon her neck infusing it with magical properties that would ensure she could never remove it or be free from it’s effects. It would be the first and last time she would ever experience that, it was something she never wanted to be responsible for ever again, even at cost to her own well being.

With trembling hands and a blood splattered face, Val turns away from her dying captor.