Under the cover of night they roamed, listening to the rustle the wind made through the canopies above their heads. Their eyes attempted to pierce the night, knowing well that she was a mistress of this world. This was her territory, and for her, they were trespassers. To not alarm the denizens, only a handful of men were given permission to roam the woodlands, their priority was to find her before more harm came to their ranks. Lighting crashed, thunder rolled, and the storm was fast approaching the area. The grass was slippery underneath the soles of their boots, and mud clung to the leather. They were slowed down, these four men sent to find her. The path she had taken was lost, a tracker knew well how to conceal herself, but they knew where she made her abode, where she and her husband shared their life.
Between the shadows, of the monumental trees, they neared her modest home. Spearheads are seen with the slash of hot silver that traversed the heavens. With caution they approached, noticing that light was flashing from the crevices of the windows and underneath the wooden door. They saw nothing as far as movement taking place, but they could not be too sure.
They were to show that they were not here to fight, but pointed spears spoke volumes. The Viper was not a woman who they knew all too well; an enigma delicately wrapped in a mystery she was, classified information was not available to men such as these. Unfortunately, they were to learn that there was more to this woman than what rumours spoke of.
“We located her,†the Commander heard them while cradling his head in his hands. He cleared his thoughts of her, of who she was, and pressed forth to think of the present situation. She would feel betrayed, and in truth, he very much did so.
“She is not here–†He lifts his head and narrows his gaze at the paperwork before him. A flash of despair fills his gaze and Heuloix’s fear blossomed into reality.
There came an agonizing sound from the other side that forces the Commander to stand up fully from his seat, knocking it back. Commotion is heard, a sense of panic floods the linkshell and he slams his fist on the table. She was the hunter, not his prey. Never-more would she be his.
The arrow had pierced the man at his lower abdomen, forcing him back to stumble backwards, into part of the rug at the entrance without solid panels underneath. His foot falls in the maw of blades planted held in place by bundles on either side of them, keeping them from shifting. The foot trap claimed him. They pierced true, ripping past the hide of his shoes, ripping through flesh and annihilating his ability to move. The arrow that had embedded itself on his check came from the bow planted a several ilms before; it was a roughly made trap, rushed it was, but highly effective. He had tripped a wire she prepared, and suffered the blow of the bow she anchored down with the broken pieces of her chair, which was hammered to the ground.
The men around him see the setup, the trigger stick, the wire, the catch stick. She was expecting them, and in the little time she had until they caught up to her, she was able to take down one of their men without even present. The snake is about to claim her first victim among them.
“Jehantel is down, orders!†The panic was obvious as it echoed in his ear. His eyes closed and the Commander begins walking to his door, opens it, and languidly makes his way down the dimly lit hall.
“One of you stay with him, bring him home. For the rest, continue your pursuit. Duchesnel, check the stable, check everything. I want her back.†He growls into the linkshell quietly, keeping his voice low enough that others could not make sense of what was muttered. Men and women salute as he walks by, but he doesn’t spare them a glance.
And, while they cried in his ear, while the men worked to diligently comb the house of more traps, he rounds the corner and makes his way to the desk of one of the serpent’s secretary, who was doing her mundane chores, filing, sipping her tea lazily, avoiding doing any arduous work. It was presence, however, that made her demeanor change entirely. Her body is rigid now in her seat and color rises to greet her cheeks when he leaned dangerously close. Tension was heavy in the air, far too thick for her liking.
“Summon Arkwright, immediately.†He didn’t ask, he demanded. She shuddered and managed to nod curtly before he turned away from her, his expression all too serious for her comfort. But, she was not one to ignore a direct order. Sergeant Ivaan Arkwright was to be called upon, at this late an hour of the night.
Between the shadows, of the monumental trees, they neared her modest home. Spearheads are seen with the slash of hot silver that traversed the heavens. With caution they approached, noticing that light was flashing from the crevices of the windows and underneath the wooden door. They saw nothing as far as movement taking place, but they could not be too sure.
They were to show that they were not here to fight, but pointed spears spoke volumes. The Viper was not a woman who they knew all too well; an enigma delicately wrapped in a mystery she was, classified information was not available to men such as these. Unfortunately, they were to learn that there was more to this woman than what rumours spoke of.
“We located her,†the Commander heard them while cradling his head in his hands. He cleared his thoughts of her, of who she was, and pressed forth to think of the present situation. She would feel betrayed, and in truth, he very much did so.
“She is not here–†He lifts his head and narrows his gaze at the paperwork before him. A flash of despair fills his gaze and Heuloix’s fear blossomed into reality.
There came an agonizing sound from the other side that forces the Commander to stand up fully from his seat, knocking it back. Commotion is heard, a sense of panic floods the linkshell and he slams his fist on the table. She was the hunter, not his prey. Never-more would she be his.
The arrow had pierced the man at his lower abdomen, forcing him back to stumble backwards, into part of the rug at the entrance without solid panels underneath. His foot falls in the maw of blades planted held in place by bundles on either side of them, keeping them from shifting. The foot trap claimed him. They pierced true, ripping past the hide of his shoes, ripping through flesh and annihilating his ability to move. The arrow that had embedded itself on his check came from the bow planted a several ilms before; it was a roughly made trap, rushed it was, but highly effective. He had tripped a wire she prepared, and suffered the blow of the bow she anchored down with the broken pieces of her chair, which was hammered to the ground.
The men around him see the setup, the trigger stick, the wire, the catch stick. She was expecting them, and in the little time she had until they caught up to her, she was able to take down one of their men without even present. The snake is about to claim her first victim among them.
“Jehantel is down, orders!†The panic was obvious as it echoed in his ear. His eyes closed and the Commander begins walking to his door, opens it, and languidly makes his way down the dimly lit hall.
“One of you stay with him, bring him home. For the rest, continue your pursuit. Duchesnel, check the stable, check everything. I want her back.†He growls into the linkshell quietly, keeping his voice low enough that others could not make sense of what was muttered. Men and women salute as he walks by, but he doesn’t spare them a glance.
And, while they cried in his ear, while the men worked to diligently comb the house of more traps, he rounds the corner and makes his way to the desk of one of the serpent’s secretary, who was doing her mundane chores, filing, sipping her tea lazily, avoiding doing any arduous work. It was presence, however, that made her demeanor change entirely. Her body is rigid now in her seat and color rises to greet her cheeks when he leaned dangerously close. Tension was heavy in the air, far too thick for her liking.
“Summon Arkwright, immediately.†He didn’t ask, he demanded. She shuddered and managed to nod curtly before he turned away from her, his expression all too serious for her comfort. But, she was not one to ignore a direct order. Sergeant Ivaan Arkwright was to be called upon, at this late an hour of the night.
“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.â€
Rivienne Delacroux ♚ Bowmaiden's Tumblr