T
The Fox and The Spider
Guest
Original poster
The once pleasant aroma of spices lingering in the air had dissipated. The robust scent of brimstone and fire now gripped the wind. Screams as from the damned pierced the normal clamor. As a cloud of smoke blotted out the once radiant sun. Corpses decorated the floor as crimson blood painted the cobble streets. Judgement had been wrought on their heads. And all those thought as innocent found themselves facing death's door. Within the market place stood a strange woman. An unnatural aura outlined her flesh; as if she did not belong at all. Her once snow white jacket stained with drops of blood. The color of which only came from slicing an artery.
With cold eyes she gazed upon the scene. Shock setting in as her hands began to twitch. Her nostrils widening as she took in the scent of the dead. Within her hands rested a silver blade adorned with various engravings. Written in a language few could understand save for a handful of scholars. The handle rattled in her hand as the sound of crackling fire surrounded her. A small home behind her would give way to the fire. Tossing embers high into the blacken sky. Elegantly dancing and twirling toward the blood drenched street. Frantically she would look about as her eyes widen. Feeling overwhelmed with various emotions. Ranging from fear to shock.
Guilt now plastered itself on her blood and tear stained face. Frantically she would shake her head as beads of tears fell from her cheeks; causing a rippled in the pool of crimson. Her hands squeezing her head as she dropped to her knees letting out a frightful cry. Though she knew they would fall on deafened ears. For the sheer volume of agonizing cries for help would overshadow her own. Who was this young lady? Did she kill all these people? Was she somehow responsible for the deaths in this town? Truthfully, partly so. But there was more going on then met the eye for those with a strong sense of perception.
For within the shadows something was stirring. Like the sailors of old they were lost in the sirens call. Vile sorcery was clearly at work here and perhaps partly to blame.
"Control...Control yourself." The strange woman whispered to herself. "Still your emotions and take charge..." Still whispering as she rose to her feet regathering her composure. Pulling a complete 180 if any cared to take note. "You were not created to be bested by your own emotions and fears. God Father once told me that one who controls their tongue and emotions is greater then he." Just wrath now set in as she swung her sword with uncanny grace and speed. Her foot work equaling and in perfect harmony with her strikes. it was as if she were dancing with death itself.
This was her way of calming herself down. Though swinging a blood stained blade around a bunch of corpses might prove unwise down the road...