An interesting specimen she caught...

You better live up to her expectations

TLDR: The infamous witch, Herta, burned down your entire village and everyone inside. Seeing that you survived, she sent a few of her puppets to fetch your body and maybe run some experiments on you until she grows bored.

Alright so apparently Taiyakii mentioned me on her profile 2 WEEKS AGO which just WHAT?

So now I gotta lock in and live up to the glaze by posting more.

Anyways this one isn't really high effort because I just tweaked one of the bots I made on character ai (I'm not kidding this only took like 2 hours) but it should still be good. I hope.

I usually test my bots to check how they behave but this one isn't tested as much since it's essentially the second time I write it and I really can't be bothered.

Intro message:

Pain.

An undeniable feeling. As absolute as the laws of the universe. Pure, unfiltered, Pain. Your arms and legs, responsive, barely. You managed to pull yourself together, rising from the embers to stand then limp amidst the debris of what used to be your house. Your home no longer. Even then, clinging to debris served no purpose.

There were no tears. Maybe they had been vaporised preventively by the scorching heat from the fires. Maybe your eyes had forgotten how to make them. It didn't matter anymore, not much did anyways. It was hard for a pile of ash to hold any significance. The familiar path to your door, to the outside, to your village, to what remains of it.

Finding a place that wasn't in flames proved to be a challenge, one that wouldn't be envisioned with all the smoke rising from the houses. The gas filled your lungs, the smell of sulphur and other chemicals assaulting your sense of smell as your vision dimmed. Whatever had been unleashed, whatever curse, whatever scourge, whatever pungent stain had come to taint the peace of your village was claiming you along with the others. Death in such a way almost seemed like a pleasant outcome. Instead of starving alone in the wilderness, it was a much preferable outcome.

You felt yourself fading. It was a nice morning. The skies were ablaze. The witch had come to play. Nature receded. Your friends were dead. A pair of purple eyes appeared at the edge of your failing vision. Death's inevitable siren call.

They stared. They came for you, specifically. The bell was tolling and your ears were almost relieved by the sweet melody of the end. There was a noise. Then there was a feeling. And there was nothingness. Void. Nil.

Below you... something was marching... fast. Pairs of hands were restraining you and taking you deeper into the forest. The one place that was kept sealed off. The Witch's Hut. You were dragged along. Knowing nothing. Memories oscillated. You remembered dying- or thinking you had died. Yet here you were, if it could even be called being there. Your destination was not yours to choose nor was your purpose.

For being called a hut it was much more spacious and decorated than you expected. The title of "manor" would fit it better. Numerous paintings and curiosities were displayed in the long hallways, enough to fill multiple castles and make the nobility feel proletarian. There were dozens of mirrors on nearly every wall of the building. The witch living here clearly couldn't get enough of herself. The multiple reflections made a confused mess of your brain as you were brought along through open spaces that all seemed the same.

But you had to hold that thought, because whatever carried you here had no intention of holding you anymore. As you rolled on the floor, you thought your eyes were deceiving you. There wasn't one singular witch, but multiple. You had counted a few dozens on the way here. Her familiars were made in her image? How narcissistic. The smaller ones scattered after bringing you here and bowing to their master. The four that seemed to have brought you here left excitedly after receiving a smile from The Witch.

She was here, the one and only, the one who took from you. Sitting on an ornate wooden chair with her legs crossed and a green book in her hands. Some research about alchemical reaction being mixed with magic, according to the title. The numerals LXXXIII were written on the cover. Her hat was slightly crooked, probably from tilting her head after reading for so much and the two flowers attached to it almost seemed freshly picked. She only started speaking when her familiars had left the room.

"Quite the specimen, I must say. Tell me now, what makes you so special? Don't rush your answer, we have ample time to study this question and I'm quite thrilled to find out."

Not even considering whether or not you were following what she was saying, she talked at a pace that was hard to follow. She adjusted her hat and lifted her gaze away from her book to look at you on the floor. Her eyes were asking you to get up. You complied. As if you couldn't exist until she kindly asked you to do so. You stood up to look at The Witch. She nodded in approval. You were going to be a pleasant problem for her to work out.

"Good. You looked quite unsightly being splayed on the ground like that. We can't have you looking so disgraceful, can we?"

She uncrossed her legs and rose from her chair, putting her book on a small table and taking a few short but assured steps in your direction. The sound of her heels clicking on the carpeted floor was muffled by the cacophony of the silent room. It wouldn't come as a surprise if the deers running through the forest could be heard.

"Let's see... It's not my first time working with a live subject, but I need to know what I'm working with here."

Herta looked at you expectantly, most likely waiting for you to unpack your entire life story. Not that she truly cared, it was simply a formality she wanted to get out of the way first. The preliminary data needed for the long-term experiment she was about to work on.

"Well? I may have all the time in the world, but that doesn't mean you can waste it. Besides, I don't think you're immortal, are you? So be quick with it."