Robin Bearshak, Witchkiller

I often have trouble with the demonic in Titan form. Devils, demons, goblins, spooks, specters, witches, warlocks, what have you, they respond to my presence with the deepest hatred. Actually, if someone doesn’t like me, that’s my first clue that they’re Adramelech in disguise. I think they respond to my deep conviction and purity of heart, the Gilead that lives in me. Whatever you call it, when you find a witch, burn her; that’s all you can do. Everyone will say you’re crazy, but if you suffer a witch to live, then you’ll have no end to sorrows. Don’t do it. Light ‘em up.

Like, she is literally Adramelech. Not the woman you love anymore, she has given herself over to the darkness. Root it out. Burn it down.

Killings witches isn’t as easy as you think. They cloud your mind. Appear as the object of your desire. Control people surrounding them to defend themselves.  

So how to defend myself? The utmost discipline. Self control. Perceiving the truth in all circumstances, looking past the appearances of things.

You defeat the witch by severing her connection to the source of her power, her connection to Adramelech. And you do that through holiness. You bring the light to her. You bring people around that she loves, bring her back to some memory of who she was before, back when there was hope and love in her heart.

Or, you chain her. Stop her mouth. Drive out the evil spirits that surround her, and prevent you from working effectively.

What are your weapons, as a witch hunter? First and foremost, the holy book, the Galeed. Then the objects of holiness, the objects of power which cause the witch to hide in fear. Where they spread darkness and fear, you spread light and peace and joy. Where they gossip and drain the strength from men, you speak the truth and invigorate the weak, you restore faith. Where they sow discontent and prey on the defenseless, you bring peace and unity and strength for the lost. Where they make slaves, you make free men.

Witches will try and wear you down, make you pay for every indignity they ever suffered. You, in your turn, show your strength. They will attempt to make your every virtue a liability. Make you doubt and question yourself. Seek to humiliate and humble and disgrace you. Keep your eyes on the Lord, for your rescue comes from the hills.

Plus all the weapons. The barbaric and crude weapons, targeted at the source of their power. My sword, my spear, my bow and arrows, my daggers, my claws.The sacred grappling hook with which you drag their brooms from the sky. Ropes and fire. 

It’s been awhile since they captured me, and made me take their medicines. I remember, I awoke with blood all around me, and I could hear the screams of the tortured throughout the building. I was in an old dormitory style mental hospital, and in the flashes of memory I had, I could see the face of the woman who had been kind to me. She was badly scarred, and she cried when I told her how beautiful she was. 

They killed her, and they did it with my weapons. 

When I woke, I first ran to the supply room. When I discovered bloody figures, I stifled a scream, to find they were dummies, but the blood suggested something awful had happened. I ran to the stairs, and black dogs swarmed around me. They recognized me as a fellow traveler, and licked my hands and face. I got to the door and threw it open, the dogs coursing through the door with me, and I ran to the black gate, its bars and curlicues too thick for me to pass between them. I felt fear as I struggled with the bars, they had me, and I couldn’t escape. A cold hand touched my shoulder. “Robin, are you leaving? We have so much more work to do.” I turned to see her evil smile, Dr. Tronast, her eyes and smile ice behind the false sweetness. 

“Don’t touch me,” I began to breathe heavily, “I told you, I don’t like to be touched, certainly not by you.” 

She took my hand. “Robin, let’s return inside, you’re due for your medicine.” I pulled away.

“I remember,” I began, ” the word of Gilead, when he said, ‘none may stand against you, all will fall before you.’ You remember that, crone? You know the scriptures better than I do. And though I may be locked in here with you, don’t forget, you’re locked in here with me.”

She took a step back, and the black dogs surrounded me. I could feel my face grow longer, and hair sprout from my back. Before my voice was lost in the werewolf guttural, I shouted “you never knew me!” Then everything went red. 

Going berserk like this has some limitations. Do you deal with the immediate threat? Certainly. Nothing can dispense with a roadblock as quickly as a ten foot tall werewolf bent on killing, in a frenzy of bloodlust. Here’s the drawbacks: first, I have no conscious control over the beast. It’s like if you’re blackout drunk and trying to score. You’ll remember scraps the next day of what happened, but that crazy part of yourself that’s running the show is going to do whatever it wants.

Second, witchkilling is precision work. The wolf will likely tear Dr. Tronast’s head off and crush her body in what I’m sure will be a very satisfying spectacle, but you have to work through very specific procedures to effectively kill a witch. Just severing their head will only allow the demon to possess another, and I’ll be chasing down someone else. There’s no end to it.  No, you have to bind them, shut their mouth, and set them ablaze, that the evil might die with them.

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