A Witch's Prank

It was dark in the streets of Warrenfall, grand buildings rising high over the murky horizon, hues and many colours fading into a mauve collage, deep, whispering of a silent night to come. Down towards the heart of the city, where festival lanterns hung from their wrought iron brackets, a rich crimson hue cast the cobble stones ruddy. It was a perfect moment for mischief. And it was here, that one would find ghouls and goblins, fiends and witches.

“Ahahahahahah.”

A hicking laughter bubbled in her chest, that twisted, gleaming smile seeming to cringe with each inhale, rattling over her neck and chest. Eyes, green eyes, narrowed against her slanting expression, looked down over the people that milled about, finding their interest in vendors selling their wears, strange, foreign beasties bound in filigree cages, rich, pungent scents of herbs hanging thick where they were spread out to dry, bound in brightly coloured ribbons. Ladies in their fine gowns moved about, their men at arm, soldiers standing at attention in uptight leathers. A fine night of simple pleasures, where nothing unexpected was suspected to occur. “We can’t have that now can we.”

A life without surprise was hardly a life worth living after all. What purpose could their mundane market going trifles have against a little fun after all. Moving, her mane of unruly citrine whipped over her shoulder, the tangled braid curling, licks of hairs falling from the bind. She grinned, mirroring that brilliant smile upon her chest. 

Against her cheek, the glass was cool, the twine tether clenched between her teeth, as she watched the crowds, moving carefully to avoid those soldiers. They had tried to stop her on occasion. They just didn’t understand her art. What a pity for them. Yet, she had learned their ways, had seen the rotation of watchmen, had seen their habits. Learned was she in the ways of her fair cities protection. And tonight, they would not know what hit them, before it was too late. 

Resisting the giggle that threatened to fall once more, the mauve female ducked down behind a vendor of fruits and breads, the air fragrant in its fine aroma. “Who do you think we should gift our fine reward blob,” she mused, feeling the slide of the strange creature along her back, the burble of sounds where the semi-sentient thing cooed in the tresses of her mane. Where it came from, she left to the imagination of those who saw it. Perhaps a creation from those bombs she so loved to concoct, a strange thing come to life form her voodoo and what-have-you’s. Whatever the case, it was a fine minion, one that found just as much pleasure as she did when it came to the screams and chaos that ensued from her games and flights of fancy. 

Watching the people pass, her back hunched down, molding to the carts tilting stance on the stone floor, she hummed, dismissing the young children, their fretting hens for mothers. They were hardly the most rewarding of prey, seeming to enjoy her games a little too much. No… she needed someone who would give quite the show, throw a fit. The one’s who were far to uptight for their own good. Maybe that one, a noble it seemed, stiff collared and prime, his coattails finely pressed. Ooh, or maybe her. A fine dress, silk it seemed, imported from Thedale perhaps, radiant colours that seemed to glow in the lantern light. A parcel clutched in her hand was lace and embroidered with beautiful colours. A Cinderella to Witch’s raggedy-ann.  Of course, it wasn’t to say Witch wasn’t a fine specimen. She stood out, with her candycorn stripes, her ribbed tail and almost delicate filigree laced back. Fine pin pricks of light, like the moons of Jupiter speckled over her frame, creating a picture that would never be forgotten. Something to stare at. Which suited her purposes fine. Witch adored the spotlight, especially the stares that came after a particularly successful prank. With each one, her notoriety rose, making her grander, more known. A creature to be whispered of over drinks and fans. Both street urchin and noble lords knew her alike, and feared, dreaded becoming her next victim. 

Chuffing, unable to resist at the that riddled her brain, playing out like old black and white reels, Witch glanced out back towards the streets, watching the woman make her rounds, like a hen in the farmyard. Long spindled ears rose, the hollows capturing the slightest of sound, cunning, intelligent eyes marked in kohl taking in the smooth brush of the layered silk bustle. Seemed expensive. It was perfectttt. 

Of course, she couldn’t just run out and toss the brew at the broad, cackling all the way. No no. It was far to much like last time. This time, it needed to be more… original. The vayron scrapped her lime nails over the cooling stone, her blunt nose scrunched in thought, even as she looked around. It was an all to ordinary street, with nothing really out of place. Busy, which was perfect for what she had in mind, but nothing that just screamed of a scene to be taken advantage of. Call her a perfectionist, an artist in love with her craft, but she refused to let this brew go to waste. It had come out to be the most fetching colour. “Any ideas blob?”

Looking down, she took in those vacant eyes, hardly the look of an aspiring scholar. “Don’t think to hard now.” Snorting she stood, lanky legs dancing with the stripes of her legs, like stockings on a little girl yet in love with the trickery of jack-o-lanterns and black cats. Toes wiggling, nose scrunched, she lopped around the bend, the flick of rich orange hair trailing behind her.

It would have been easier just to follow the main road out into the pavilion, where pretty little shops lined the streets, yet, she had to remain hidden, covert! Around her, the exotic arrangement of both man and Reosean gathered, each an interesting hue, each, a potential play thing for the dame. Of course, she couldn’t be deterred, not yet at least. There was something about committing to a chosen victim, as much as it may have been easier just to pick on that guard from before. Pfft. Man was he a stick in the mud. Someone had to go along and pull his tail every so often. Remembering the vayron from before, that outraged look to follow where his once earthen mane was no a brilliant vomit colour, Witch’s ears twitched, her head shaking in mirth. Oh it had been almost too easy.

Though… perhaps it was because of that particular encounter that now it seemed there was always someone after her almost immediately after her latest and greatest scheme. It was all in good fun of course. And the chases just made it all the more interesting. If anything, it was so very amusing to see their faces when she managed to get away. “You honestly think they would learn by now. Shame really. Just think how this all reflects on our fine city’s security. Can’t even catch lil ‘ol me.” 

It was than, that she saw it. Her prey, getting much to cozy with a man, flirty in that strange way humans did. All… batting eyes like there was dust in them or something. It was clear she was interested, given demur expression, the subtle attempts at getting touchy feely. Brow raises, Witch watched for a moment . What was with a gold old challenge to prove a potential bonds worth. She never got the reasoning behind falling head over tail for some male just because he looked nice. Ok, she’d admit, she could admire those fine hunks of meat like the rest of them, but what did a pretty face have to do with personality? Prowess? Intelligence? 

Watching them for a moment, she soon grew impatient, finding this stale back and forth exchange far less entertaining then it could be. Say, if they were both an neon green. Grinning, her teeth cutting into the twine of the vial, she began to slink forward, attempting to get a good positioning on the pair. Two for the price of one. Two snobs at that. Ah it was just too good to be true. Tilting her head, she pulled back, aimed, and released. The vial went flying, arching with lovely form through the air. “Oh… oh,” she whispered, her eyes tracking its movement. 

The sound of cracking glass at their feet was the only warning they had before a poof of bright smoke rose up, the powder going everywhere. A shrill shriek came not long after, followed by a sound of confused man, and a startled yelp. “Watch it,” the woman’s voice rang, and Witch, attempting to peer through the fog, even as she tried to swallow the laughter that threatened bubble up, rose from her stance. When the cloud cleared, oh… it was beautiful.

That once pretty little dress, a fine yellow to go with her soft curling auburn hair, was a right mess. Splatters of evergreen and lime curled like a map over her front and endless fabrics. And him. Well, his face had the most interesting shade going for it, , his nose smeared with a fine dusting. They squabbled, and Witch. Well she laughed. It was far to much, her front legs curling as she knelt, her bays coming in a loud, cackling boom. “Oh my god. Blob. Ahahah. Look at their facesss. Ahahah.” Shaking her head, her tail curling in amusement, she couldn’t help but grin further when she heard the children’s laughter, the lads from earlier seeming just as amused as she was. Just as she suspected. See. It totally wouldn’t have been as interesting if her victim was as amused as she was. Wasn’t the same. 

The crowd that had been present seemed mystified by what they were seeing, stopping and staring, watching, and offering absolutely no assistance to the fretting man and woman. She, at some point, seemed to realize it was Witch that was the source of their misfortune, and had taken to waving her hand at her, her once delicately laced fan now beyond repair. “Th-hat beast. It ruined my dress.” Shrieking, her voice shrill, Witch could only laugh in reply, sticking out her tongue in amusement. “Oh.. you poor lil lamb.”

“There she is!” The loud racket behind her drew Witch’s eyes away from the ruffled pair, green, green eyes narrowing at the sight of the guards coming forth through the crowd, shoving the people and vayron alike to the side. “Well, looks like someone can’t appreciate my art.” Humphing, she stood, tossing a grin towards the lovely couple. “I’d hate to trick and ditch but it seems they wish to throw me in the stocks or whatever has peeked their fancy. Imagine a world without my pranks. Horrible place really. Ta.” Eyes widening comically, she darted away, leaping through the space amongst the crowd, hearing a shout of surprise, and the impact of some poor rump hitting the ground. Twisting her way through the street, it got darker the further she got from the common areas. All that was there to offer her guidance, was the brilliant glow of the grin upon her chest. 

She could hear them, the strike of paws upon stone, and the rattle of metal and leather. Peeking over her shoulder as she rounded a corner, she spotted the two riden vayron in pursuit. “My my. Was it something I said?” Glob of course, offered no reply that made sense, only that straight, oozy feeling in her mane. Giggling, she changed paths suddenly, her tail flying behind her like a whip. 

It was a merry chase she led them on, rounding through the crowded streets of Warrenfall, venturing deeper into the more seedier areas of the place. Of course, unlike these fine, shiny beings, Witch was aware of all the little nooks and crannies of the undesired, wedging her way around stacked crates, leaping over rickety fences. It was a shame in moments like these, due to her standing out so much, yet, at the same time, she couldn’t resist this part of the thrill. It was always getting away, managing to evade punishment that gave her the shivers, her grin widening with each curse thrown towards her, each biting sound of them hitting some obstacle they failed to avoid. 

The wall of the city rose up like a goliath, dark and foreboding, forcing her to pivot in her sprint, heading towards the gates that offered a point to the countryside beyond. Of course, she wasn’t going out there. Witch of course was hardly country bumpkin material. Nah, she was a city girl. They didn’t know course. Breaking forward, feeling the ache in her feet begin to burn, her breath coming in pants, she made a break towards the gate, turning only at the last minute to bound behind the lip of the pillar of stone. Pressed in tight, her chest heaving, Witch heard the sound of paws striking stone, passing through the gate. It would only be a few moments before they realized she hadn’t gone that way, the guards keen nose offering them that clue. Pesky things.

Of course, she wasn’t going to wait around for them to notice. Peeking around the corner, she eyed the closest, trotting along the edge of the road just beyond the gate, probably searching for signs of her pawprints off the road, when it was clear she was no longer on it. Behind her, the stables loomed. Backing up slowly, keeping her eyes on them, the delinquent only turned once her back was hidden in the shadow of the building. 

“To bad,” she crooned, her voice rasping from the strain, sweat oiling the long bangs that hang in her eyes. “Heheh, what fun that was huh Glob.” Tail flicking she turned, nearly prancing as she paced away from the gate, deeper into the maze that made up the bowels of Warrenfall. She could hear them, a few moments later, the confusion as they tried to locate her. She didn’t stop to relish in her game, as much as she wanted too. Bounding through the streets, backtracking and overlapping her paths, Witch made a fine merry trail for them to follow, before she found the ruddy light of the markets, ever awake, wash over her back. The fragrant smells, pleasant and at times soothing, overwhelmed all else, making it yet another stop in her scheme of getting off scot-free.

Flopping down at the edge of the fountain, taking a drink from the crystal waters she sighed. “Not to bad girl. Managed to get a good laugh out of it. And messed with the guards to. Heheheh.” Her legs, aching from running, stretched out, toes scrapping over the stone. From her place on the ground, she could see the entry point from where she came, ears turning to take in the sounds around her. As much as she’d like to think she sent her tails whirling, it was never safe than sorry to be careful. Of course, she’d like to think she managed just fine. 

“Score… my… I don’t even know what the score is right now. A zillion to me… zero to the Warrenfall guard.” Snorting, another giggle pealed from her lips, her eyes tracing the masses waltzing passed her. Ahead, a boy dressed in ratty clothe scuffled with his fellow, their grubby hands more than likely getting away with a few coin from the adults who chuffed them over the head for being a menace. To her left, a mother and her gaggle of children. A bread baker calling out his sales for the end of the day buns, wishing to make a profit off them before he had to make due and come away with just a little less than what he really deserved. The streets of Warrenfall whispered, the sounds rising and falling, never quiet silenced even in the night. The sky, once a mix of many colours, was black, the moon rising over the brilliant coloured banners tied over the street.

“I think it’s time we head home Glob. Maybe make a new brew out of that pigment we got earlier. I have an idea for it of course if you’d like to hear…” Her voice trailed off as she stood, walking towards the hills that would lead her back towards her home, snipping an apple from the cart as she passed. She may be easily noticeable, but it was also that trait about her that made Witch… completely unassuming. After all, she had yet to be caught.

And that was probably the greatest prank yet.