Bestiary

Pillory began, so the story goes, as a girl with Asperger’s Syndrome and a taste for pain. It was the pain, she’d say, that brought her out of herself. As she grew, she allowed herself to fall into relationships so abusive and injurious that her Avatar’s shriek could be heard reverberating through the Otherworlds. Finally, one climactic burst of agony broke through her Sleep. Pillory Awakened… but that Awakening trapped her in a permanent nightmare that she now shares with everyone nearby.

Essentially a solo Marauder, Pillory has crafted four arms for herself out of Life Magick. One holds a bell, which she constantly rings; one remains empty-handed; the third has forged itself into a razor-barred cage full of butterflies whose colors perpetually shift and change; and the fourth has become a whip with dozens of thick, spiked thongs. She has neither eyes nor a nose, nor ears – only a mouth gaping in an eternally silent scream. Spiders crawl in and out of that mouth, which opens not from her jaw, but from her forehead. A swirl of tangled hair hovers around Pillory’s head – a crackling, sick halo of coruscating blue. Her long dress shines in a deep, wet crimson shade.

For the most part, Pillory remains in the Otherworlds, tormenting the spirits and tormented by them in return. From time to time, however, she seeps through into material reality, bringing with her a dark red mist that spreads out from her body like thick oily smoke. That smoke smells ripe and meaty, like air from a slaughterhouse. Each time she casts a spell, the bars on her butterfly cage open up; a flock of butterflies escapes, morphing into the effects of the spell itself. Those butterfly spells appear as smears of bright colors in the air. All the while, Pillory remains silent. Even ambient sounds fade to nothing when she comes near.

Classified as an Extreme Marauder Complex Manifestation, Pillory has been known to take playmates – she’s especially fond of Nephandi and Ecstatics of the more sinister persuasion. That said, she neither speaks nor seems to hear anyone else speak. Wrapped in an extreme version of her original isolation, this Mad One floats about, snapping her whip, releasing her butterflies, and ringing a bell that makes no noise. In her presence, reality vibrates as if shaken by potent sound waves that no one can hear.