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- Jan 22, 2009
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Liquid nitrogen could not have been as cool and crisp as the evening air. Not a cloud littered the diamond studded sky for years in every direction. A black stallion pawed the ground nervously, feeling the electric anticipation humming in every vein. Dark figures crouched on the forest floor, camouflaged by total darkness. The village was none the wiser.
Once the last lantern had been snuffed out the troupe made it's move. First the scouts were sent ahead to ensure that the coast was clear, next came the sharp shooters, assassins with griffin fetched arrows, meant to clear and true. This village was not equipped, by sun up every building would be toppled and every person on their way too the slave pens.
The first scream was enough to wake the dead, the second just as bad. Soon after the still village began to vibrate and whir with movement. Men and women grabbed whatever weapons they could get their hands on, while the warriors ushered children away from the battle. They might have been barbarians with the ability to decimate great warrior cities but they didn't hurt children. Even demons have morals.
It was quite clear who was running the operation. Though she was small and not clearly defined amidst the flailing bodies, she seemed to have a certain presence about her, a dragon trapped in a harlot's body. Her movements were venomous, when she struck she struck to kill and was limber and able to contort in strange positions to make contact.
Lady Rowan wasn't expecting to be met by such a fierce swing from a long katana. But the sudden rush did not detour her, she met the blow with twice the ferocity. For a brief moment her eyes met that of her attacker before she pulled away and attempted to test this man's skill. He was obviously strong, she wouldn't be able to fight with brute strength. However she had an upper hand because she was definitely more nimble. So you want to play?
First she tested his speed, swinging as quick and hard as humanly possible before withdrawing and attacking once more. Then she tested his dexterity, hitting him in places that would be almost impossible to protect. Eventually they came to an impasse exchanging one hit for the other. Oh yes, he was good. But she was just one movement ahead.
Making a daring move she slide between him and his blade, getting a good step to his left. Without waiting for the fight to ensue she clubbed him on the base of the head and watched him fall. When he tumbled to the ground the rest of the village stood silent, they had been defeated.
Not too long after the village was stripped of it's valuables, the ground covered in salt and the buildings burned to the ground. Lady Rowan and her new prisoner took the long way home. She needed to make sure they tied up any loose ends, mostly villagers who had escaped. He was hoisted up onto a horse and tied down while she took the black stallion.
About twelve hours after they had started they stopped next to a large stream so the horses could eat, drink, and she could rest. She might be the perfect warrior but she still suffered wounds and needed to clean them up before infection could set in. And he didn't look like he was going to be waking up anytime soon. Nonetheless she pushed him off the back of the horse and tied him too a nearby tree.
Stripping down she piled her clothed in a neat little stack then stepped into the river. The water was just above her waist. It was incredibly cold, enough to numb her body and make her lungs sore from the sudden chill. There were a few scars on her back, the blood and grime washed away leaving just a pale body amidst a swirl of arctic water.
Liquid nitrogen could not have been as cool and crisp as the evening air. Not a cloud littered the diamond studded sky for years in every direction. A black stallion pawed the ground nervously, feeling the electric anticipation humming in every vein. Dark figures crouched on the forest floor, camouflaged by total darkness. The village was none the wiser.
Once the last lantern had been snuffed out the troupe made it's move. First the scouts were sent ahead to ensure that the coast was clear, next came the sharp shooters, assassins with griffin fetched arrows, meant to clear and true. This village was not equipped, by sun up every building would be toppled and every person on their way too the slave pens.
The first scream was enough to wake the dead, the second just as bad. Soon after the still village began to vibrate and whir with movement. Men and women grabbed whatever weapons they could get their hands on, while the warriors ushered children away from the battle. They might have been barbarians with the ability to decimate great warrior cities but they didn't hurt children. Even demons have morals.
It was quite clear who was running the operation. Though she was small and not clearly defined amidst the flailing bodies, she seemed to have a certain presence about her, a dragon trapped in a harlot's body. Her movements were venomous, when she struck she struck to kill and was limber and able to contort in strange positions to make contact.
Lady Rowan wasn't expecting to be met by such a fierce swing from a long katana. But the sudden rush did not detour her, she met the blow with twice the ferocity. For a brief moment her eyes met that of her attacker before she pulled away and attempted to test this man's skill. He was obviously strong, she wouldn't be able to fight with brute strength. However she had an upper hand because she was definitely more nimble. So you want to play?
First she tested his speed, swinging as quick and hard as humanly possible before withdrawing and attacking once more. Then she tested his dexterity, hitting him in places that would be almost impossible to protect. Eventually they came to an impasse exchanging one hit for the other. Oh yes, he was good. But she was just one movement ahead.
Making a daring move she slide between him and his blade, getting a good step to his left. Without waiting for the fight to ensue she clubbed him on the base of the head and watched him fall. When he tumbled to the ground the rest of the village stood silent, they had been defeated.
Not too long after the village was stripped of it's valuables, the ground covered in salt and the buildings burned to the ground. Lady Rowan and her new prisoner took the long way home. She needed to make sure they tied up any loose ends, mostly villagers who had escaped. He was hoisted up onto a horse and tied down while she took the black stallion.
About twelve hours after they had started they stopped next to a large stream so the horses could eat, drink, and she could rest. She might be the perfect warrior but she still suffered wounds and needed to clean them up before infection could set in. And he didn't look like he was going to be waking up anytime soon. Nonetheless she pushed him off the back of the horse and tied him too a nearby tree.
Stripping down she piled her clothed in a neat little stack then stepped into the river. The water was just above her waist. It was incredibly cold, enough to numb her body and make her lungs sore from the sudden chill. There were a few scars on her back, the blood and grime washed away leaving just a pale body amidst a swirl of arctic water.