1 Bookmark by kvony
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The year of our Lord is 1476.
As a slave lucky enough to be bought by an alchemist under the full influence of the Renaissance, your curiosity was encouraged, fostered. With his death, ripped away. Your next buyer is a decrepit drunkard, recent widower, and father of three. He takes your first kiss—so you knee him in the balls, and dash outside in nothing but your nightdress. He tackles you to the ground; his beard scratches your closed eyes, closed mouth; his blood soaks through to your skin.
Above you a creature of the night has his limp flesh on a long claw, crimson spilling from its gnawing teeth. Without hesitating you spring to your feet, and run right into the woods towards a dark castle with two human corpses impaled outside.
You never look back.