- Invitation Status
- Looking for partners
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Writing Levels
- Advanced
- Prestige
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
The farm grew ou of the pale green hills as if it had always been a part of the scenery. The house itself was a beautiful brick, the colours being the hues of the land herself, rustic brown striations on the grey rock. Upon the rolling fields grew small patches of potatoes, turnips, and all the root vegetables the family loved to roast in autumn. To the unaccustomed eye, the dale was a beautiful swathe of rolling green divided by walls of mossy grey stone, picturesque by any standards. To Rowena, it was just grass, grass, and more grass. She had never bothered to notice the wide variety of deciduous trees in the woodland or how their many different sized leaves adopted different hues in autumn. Even those were just mud, sticks, and leaf litter under her boots. She detested having to travel by horse for forty minutes to reach the nearest village, she loathed the same roasted potatoes and lamb roast they had for every dinner.
Heat of summer pushed in on her and she felt as claustrophobic as a cat in a box. The trees cast pathetic patches of shade and did nothing for the almost overwhelming humidity; it was like breathing in bath water. Despite barely moving at all, sweat rolled down her forehead and patched along the back of her neck until a heavy veil of black hair that was hastily pinned up in a desperate attempt to relieve the heat. With an empty bucket in one hand, the woman, barefoot, made her way from the small stone and mortar farmhouse down across the estate. The grass didn't bounce so much as crunched below her feet as she walked across it, suggesting that the farm fields had been baking in uncontrolled heat for quite a number of days. Down the path she trotted, deciding that fetching water would be her only venture outside for the day.
The stream wrapped around the edge of the farmland like a broad belt of black and silver brocade. Hastily, without admiring the primrose that gathered at its banks, Rowena dipped the lip of her bucket below the surface. Once filled, she made her way back to the small farmhouse, where with just enough fresh water to get her by for the rest of the day, she decided to stay. The day was long and hot, so the evening ended up being looked forward to with anticipation as there wasn't much of anything to do besides complain about the sun and the heat and the patch of sunburn forming across the bridge of her nose.
When early evening finally did arrive, the air cooled. Dusk was falling, the mosquitos were out, goose bumps were on her arms and the green shrubbery were now looking almost black, silhouetted as if the artist's palette had been changed. It was finally cool enough to get out of the house for a while. The horses needed to be fed, the chickens needed to be fed, and their eggs taken from their nests for tomorrow's meals. She expected the same routine, her eyes glazed over with boredom as she went through the motions. It wasn't until she was a ways away from the farmhouse did she see and smell fire on the horizon. The flames jumped over a hill, but she couldn't quite see what was happening. Squinting, she dropped the basket of eggs and broke into a run.
Cresting the hill, she looked on in horror as the farmhouse she called home was demolished by monsters in thick leather armor. The thick oak door hung loosely on its hinges. Windows were smashed and bore the unmistakable black marks of soot as flames curled around them. It had been ransacked and set on fire.
Rowena stumbled back, nearly losing her footing. She would have fallen, her heart beating wildly in her chest, had she not fallen back into something. Turning around hesitantly, her eyes met a giant beast with the pale green head of a monster. Its teeth protruded from its lower jaw that hung loose, its ragged skin scarred and battle-worn. Eyes going wide, Rowena screeched in fear and moved to leap back but the Orc gripped her by the wrist and pulled her in closer to him. His beady jaundice eyes staring back at her as his large hands crashed down on her arms, taking her by the shoulders and lifting her up until her feet were no longer on the ground.
In the intensity of the moment, Rowena somehow screamed with the entirety of her body—garbled, muffled, intermittent, but nonetheless distressing and intense. The Orc bellowed back at her, crushing his hands together on her shoulders as saliva exploded from his lips and splattered against her face. She could scream all she wanted, but there was no one around to hear.