Cherubian
Ripple in the Water
- Joined
- Aug 1, 2010
- Posts
- 2,210
[This thread is currently closed]
Cherdwyn was kneeling next to the corpse and stared towards the horizon with an empty expression. There had been tears in her brilliant blue eyes, and the last dried remains still graced her cheeks, but now she could cry no more. The sadness inside her slowly but surely made way to a cold hatred and desire for vengeance. Vengeance on those that had wrought this on the people of the village.
It had been an hour ago that she had come over the hill to the south. Something had felt not quite right even before, that eerie silence where the noise of fifty or more people should have been. And then she had seen the charred remains of the huts, and the lifeless human forms or parts thereof in between. Immediately she had rushed into the village, looking for Fialanna, and two meters in front of her hut she had found her. Her skull was caved in, with dried blood covering most of her face, and her torn clothing was a clear indication of what else she had had to endure before her brutal death. She also had found Fialanna's two children inside, and the simple thought of returning in there once more made even her hardened stomach turn.
But there was no more grief. She got to her feet and tried to rap as much of the dirt and grime off her simple dress as she could. Looking around it must have been two or three days since whoever had plundered and burned that village had left. The tracks of numerous horses indicated that whatever that robber band was it had traveled in a southward direction.
It was then that her sensible ears picked up the sound of hooves from the north. Someone else was coming, but most likely it was not who had committed this atrocity. She looked down at herself to check what an impression she would give. There were still occasional traces of grime on the pale skin of her bare lower arms or in her straw blond hair, but besides that she just looked like a regular maid or farmers daughter, although an extremely pretty one. Her body was on the skinny side, with her literally outstanding breasts the notable exception, even under several layers of clothing. She had no mirror, but she knew her face would do its part to charm whoever these new arrivals were, with its innocent, almost angelic features, an innocence she herself no longer had.
Cherdwyn was kneeling next to the corpse and stared towards the horizon with an empty expression. There had been tears in her brilliant blue eyes, and the last dried remains still graced her cheeks, but now she could cry no more. The sadness inside her slowly but surely made way to a cold hatred and desire for vengeance. Vengeance on those that had wrought this on the people of the village.
It had been an hour ago that she had come over the hill to the south. Something had felt not quite right even before, that eerie silence where the noise of fifty or more people should have been. And then she had seen the charred remains of the huts, and the lifeless human forms or parts thereof in between. Immediately she had rushed into the village, looking for Fialanna, and two meters in front of her hut she had found her. Her skull was caved in, with dried blood covering most of her face, and her torn clothing was a clear indication of what else she had had to endure before her brutal death. She also had found Fialanna's two children inside, and the simple thought of returning in there once more made even her hardened stomach turn.
But there was no more grief. She got to her feet and tried to rap as much of the dirt and grime off her simple dress as she could. Looking around it must have been two or three days since whoever had plundered and burned that village had left. The tracks of numerous horses indicated that whatever that robber band was it had traveled in a southward direction.
It was then that her sensible ears picked up the sound of hooves from the north. Someone else was coming, but most likely it was not who had committed this atrocity. She looked down at herself to check what an impression she would give. There were still occasional traces of grime on the pale skin of her bare lower arms or in her straw blond hair, but besides that she just looked like a regular maid or farmers daughter, although an extremely pretty one. Her body was on the skinny side, with her literally outstanding breasts the notable exception, even under several layers of clothing. She had no mirror, but she knew her face would do its part to charm whoever these new arrivals were, with its innocent, almost angelic features, an innocence she herself no longer had.