Esmerelda "Black Esme" Proust's page

About Esmerelda "Black Esme" Proust

4694, Eastus - Vische, Ulastav
Few recognized Black Aliss the day she moved into
7 Rumblebelly Lane in Vische. She’d lived on Mount
Graywreath for as long as anyone could remember, and
considering that her name was used to make Old Ganther
Buck eat his peas and go to bed quietly as a lad, those
memories went back very far indeed.

The house was paid for in gold coins dating back well
before the wars of the Whispering Tyrant and it was to his
credit that the Count’s man kept his face impassive as he
counted them. Upon signing the deed, Aliss walked into
the house, the babe in her arms, quietly closed the door
and that was that. The welcoming committee kept watch
each day for a wagon to trundle up the road, burdened
down with furniture and foodstuffs and maybe, just
possibly, a glimpse of the man that had tamed Black Aliss.

When they finally visited, four full days later, they were
welcomed into the home by a normal housewife, looking
not like some terror of the night, but like any other, her
cheeks rosy from the stove. Laid out on the kitchen table
before them were scones with jam and steeping tea, as
though they were expected. Awed whispers uttered as
Aliss went to fetch her new babe and the local women
explored the cozy home where they’d expected bare walls
and floorboards.

Their little sighs of comfort ended however, when Aliss
returned, her babe swaddled in a soft blanket. The pink
wool of the blanket was beautifully decorated by small
embroidered white and yellow lilies. The proud mother
cooed to her daughter when it let out a little cry, the sound
reminding every mother present of their own daughters,
married and with daughters of their own.

When Aliss turned her babe to face them, the women
recoiled in shock despite themselves. All reminiscences
were forgotten when they saw those little fingers gripping
the pink blanket below a face of emerald green.
From that day forward, the township of Foggy Bottom, on
the outskirts of Vische, would never be the same.

4711, Neth - Vische, Ulastav
The young maid thrashed her head in a panic, her eyes
desperately seeking an exit despite the bonds pinning her
hands to table. The withered prelate before her nodded
grimly to the hulking manservant shoving pincers and tons
into the re. A burst of hysteria broke out from the kitchen,
hushed after a few metallic thunks from a ladle.

The patrons ed when the carriage pulled up – the Sigil of
the Pharasmin Penitence on the door. When Witchfinder
Judge Coim stepped out, the Mistress had to wield the
broom to get the serving girls moving. Now one of her
girls was headed to the re and her husband, Master
Buckleby was out arranging deliveries for the morn. She’d
sent a girl for him an hour past and was now simply trying
to keep the other girls from outright hysteria.

Turning in relief as the kitchen door burst open, Mistress
Buckleby stared at the figure striding into the room. An
emerald green face oated in a sea of black hair, , draped in
a long black dress 50 years out of fashion. By all that’s Holy,
that fool girl’s gone and killed them all – she’d sent for
Master Buckleby, yet here she was with Black Esme herself.

The panic in the kitchen became a pure rout. No sane
mortal wanted to be within a league when Esme faced
Coim. Just four years past, he had guaranteed his future
when he captured Aliss Proust. The entire Penitence
hierarchy had some to Vische the day she burned, far too
absorbed with each other to notice the twelve year old girl
under a wagon, her green face streaked with tears for her
mamman.

Master Buckleby and his wife returned to the inn an hour
later, only to watch the flames lick up the peaked roof. The
remains of the carriage leaned drunkenly across the front
doors, just now beginning to catch flame. He had cursed
his fate in three languages as he undid the brake and
rolled the ne carriage down the hill. Nothing would be
salvaged from this night, except possibly their lives.
Turning away as everything they owned went up in flames,
they hoped to escape town before the re died down and
someone found the frozen body of Judge Coim, nailed to
the inn door.