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Everyone loves Lisa, but her backstory doesn't. I thought I would try and expand upon it, enjoy

Mr_Myers
Mr_Myers Member Posts: 422
in Creations

In the deep forest there was a village with no name, the peoples had no names for themselves. The villagers were not in contact with the modern world, leaving them to their own lives in peace, and that's exactly what it was. The villagers very rarely had dispute between them and the few times they did the chiefs would settle it out with no violence. Why is it so peaceful? They have an obsession with charms and the runes ranging from hope, happiness to protection. A small girl named Lisa Sherwood loved the idea of protection.


Lisa grew up differently from most children, instead of learning her alphabet and basic math she learned to survive and protect herself. She was by no means an unintelligent person, it was just that she had other interests, namely charms. She was not part of any of the shamanistic families, but her fascination with them was always there. Day and night from when she was  little girl she would be in the shaman’s hut, asking him a billion questions. Eventually he made her an apprentice, learning all about them and why each has meaning. To the casual observer they look like sloopy marks on the walls like triangles, but to Lisa they meant everything.


She spent so much time with the shaman that she forgot her duty: to be a mother and continue the lineage of the village, to keep it happy and quiet. She was a rebellious child, never listening and always going to visit the shaman instead of learning to cook, clean or sew like all the other girls. Once she was old enough to marry she refused all possible courtships, focusing an obsession on the charms and how they could make life better for everyone. She spent day and night slaving particularly over the protection rune, learning everything there was to know about the simple triangle, for the most simple things can carry great power. It is said that the rune carries strength with it, a master of it can feel connected to every rune they create, allowing runic users to safely return to the village, this was all a myth of course, but she believed otherwise.


Things took a turn for the worse when people started seeing her runes become drawn in ash, soot and blood. She claimed that it was more powerful, that is you put life into it that it will work, they could all be saved. They labeled her a heretic and she was forced to stop, any materials she had taken away and her rituals destroyed. In a fit of rage she attacked the elder, shredding his skin with nails she had long since not trimmed, leaving a terrible gash on him. The others heard the scream, she had to run. She was only twenty, but she would have to make do in the world now.

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Hours later she was in a terribly wet and soggy swamp still running for her life. She wasn’t sure if they were still following her or if she escaped. Too caught up in her thoughts she failed to notice her poor footing and slipped, falling on a rock and losing conscious. She drifted in and out for an unknown amount of time, the only thing she knew was that she was being carried by people. They were probably carrying her back to the village to repent her crimes… or so she though.


When she awoke she was chained to a wall in a musty, muddy cellar. She struggled all she could, but the bonds did not budge. She looked around and saw at least 3 other in the same predicament as her and tried to ask for help, only to find her mouth gagged. Suddenly the storm door above her opened and a heavyset man in a dark apron came down eyeing her as if she were fresh meat. He undid her cuffs and dragged her outside and into a house straight to a kitchen.


She thought she was safe if even only a second before she was hurled onto a counter top and clamped down. He pulled out from a draw the sharpest knife she had ever seen and walked towards her. There are no words to describe how much pain she felt, how loud her screams were through her rag. The man, she knew now as the Butcher would soon be a common visitor. After he was done he dragged back to the cellar and restrained her, only this time with her ear gone.


This went on for weeks, Lisa or another would be taken upstairs and mutilated then cast back down there to die. Lisa struggled in her bonds everyday, her arms growing long and her hand becoming warped and misshapen. Being too long in the dark didn't help either, her skin went pale and her once beautiful face was reduced to that of what you could call a monster. She was always so hungry, getting barely any scraps, just enough to survive. One day instead of the just the Butcher visiting her it was an old woman and him. She was hunchbacked with the most crooked nose, a dirty rag for clothing. She looked around the dark room then slowly focused on Lisa. She looked at the Butcher and said, “Bring me another piece of the girl.” In usual fashion he undid her rusty shackles and opened the door to drag her out.


Little did he know Lisa had been drawing the runes in the mud all around him with her feet, her blood being mixed in. For once she was not afraid, she would be free of this place, the whispers she been hearing told her as much. Her body was already mutilated, barely being able to stand properly and not being able to speak. Her hand was now scarred, she did not feel any sensation from it. She could not speak either, her mouth gone so dry all she could do was growl with a  deep, guttural sound like a creature from hell itself was on Earth. When she would escape these people would pay dearly with their lives.


As she was laid down on the all too familiar counter she had a terrible, terrible idea. All morning in the dark before she had been whispering to herself incantations she did not even existed. Her thoughts sounded alien, even to her warped mind. It felt like help had come, but not directly. It said how to use her rune, that she was right about blood all along. She needed the most pure kind to perfect her rune however: human blood. She did not argue with these thoughts and whispers, she would have her revenge. As the Butcher prepared his weapon with his back turnt she used her now scarred hand to create an exact visage of her charm in the wood, going unseen by the Butcher. After yet another mutilation she was tossed back into the cellar.


Her thoughts were of blood, human blood was all she needed... just humans. She looked at another captive next to her who had never spoken with hungry eyes. It felt as if the whispers gave her strength as she tore free her rusty shackles and dove right at him. She was consumed by anger, she needed to eat and she needed blood, anything to keep herself going. She tore open his throat then ripped out some organ then quickly gobbled it up, leaving the remaining pieces on the floor. She felt renewed vigor in her as she went to slaughter the other captives, their screams meaning little to her. Dark power surged through her and she concentrated hard on that countertop, she could feel her life force moving towards it, knowing that there was more blood there. With that temptation she left her mind for a brief second and appeared on the counter in the middle of a family meal screaming at the top of her lungs.


Granma fell out of her chair, hitting her head and blacking out on the cold, hard wood while the Butcher uphased ran to the kitchen to get his knife. Lisa turned her inhuman eyes at the kitchen and ran after him. He picked up the knife and threw it at whatever monster had just appeared in his house, but to no avail. Her flesh seemed to be mud, powered and covered by something unnatural. He tried to flee but he slipped on the unclean blood, now eye to eye with this creature.


Lisa looked at the Butcher in the eye and dove at him, her previously sharp hands now warped into a deadly weapon. She slashed at him and drank his blood, feeling like sweet nectar down her dry throat. She heard the whispers, saying she needed more if she wants her charms to work and to cure her hunger. She did not rip open the Butcher like the last man, she picked him up and strapped him to the countertop, no resistance given. She swiped and slashed at him, the term death by a thousand lashes being a generous estimate. When she was done she was coated in blood, all that remained of him was shredded flesh and a skull disjointed from the body.


She heard whimpers from the other roomed and straddled her way in, seeing the old woman on the floor, hugging her cookbook. It looked thick enough to stop a bullet, like a makeshift shield. It however, was not strong enough to stop Lisa’s hand breaking through it and grabbing her heart. With minimal effort she ripped it from the shrieking woman and ate it in front of her.


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Whatever was left of Lisa was gone, all she caring about now was getting more blood and flesh to consume, she was always so hungry. After she disappeared into the swamp she felt a cold mist over her, losing her vision. When she came to she was in the same swamp, but in front of her was a beached boat, lost to time and ruined. She did not know why she was here or where she was, but one thing was known: there was no time to think. All that matters is her hunger. It must eat, it must gnaw and chew.


Lisa Sherwood is dead. In her place is a creature of pure hunger.

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