Veatrix
05-15-09, 11:40 PM
[SOLO]
Hot blood spilled from between the blackening teeth of the Cyclops, Gainsborough stabbing its heart angrily while the pearl inlays glowed sanguine red. The smell of iron, man sweat and cooked meat wafted through the echoing stone cave. The creature was big, bulky and stark naked, its hairy man body covered in sticky redness, but life escaped its grasps as the Cyclops closed its one eye slowly. The hole in the spacious cave’s ceiling was the last thing it saw, a ray of Corone sunshine happily smiling down on the dying beast. One last gasp and it went to meet its maker.
The half-Elf’s golden blonde hair was also drenched in blood, Cyclops life essence covering her from head to toe. Another set of perfectly good clothes, ruined. The weight of the Cyclops resting peacefully on the stabbing point of Gainsborough bore down on her. The Cyclops towered over her by at least four feet, but that was when it still had the ability to stand. Gracefully pulling Gainsborough out of the gigantic corpse, the sword making a satisfying slit as it exited the body, she pushed it to the side as blood splattered everywhere. The beast fell to the side with a lifeless thud. Veatrix Bane stared at the Cyclops’ burnt knees. Black and looking slightly like the blackened chicken she had the other day, the half-Elf grimaced.
“That’s disgusting,” she said, cooked corpse smell reaching her.
A few steps away was a short, raven-haired woman breathing heavily, her weight supported by a silver steel rod. Her obsidian eyes slowly returned to their normal appearance, the whites reappearing like lunar phenomenon. Left hand on her knee and right hand grasping the rod, she chuckled in between deep breaths.
“Never seen charred meat before?”
“Not Cyclops meat.”
The woman heaved herself off the rod, standing up straight. She was dressed in regal sorceress clothes – a luxuriously simple black dress, a thick light blue corset-belt and an intricate headpiece of excellent craftsmanship. Simple black heels, milk white skin and a thin figure completed her off-putting look. If one didn’t know better, she could easily have been mistaken for a noble. A lower class one, yes, but a noble nonetheless.
Glancing over at her lightning spell’s handiwork, the sorceress smirked. “A merc’s gotta do what a merc’s gotta do.”
“Whatever.”
Sheathing Gainsborough as its pearl inlays’ glow slowly died down, the half-Elf dusted herself off. Veatrix grabbed the Cyclops corpse by the arms, ignoring its hairy nakedness. Her strength had improved over the years of mercenary work and aimless adventuring around Althanas, but pulling a 300 lbs. body was definitely a lot of work. Even power was no match for nature’s weight. Her head motioned at the other woman to come over, her dirty, bloody blonde hair sticking to her face.
“Help me out? It’s the last one, I think.”
The sorceress sighed, exasperated, and walked over to the half-Elf. Her black heel shoes click-clacked, click-clacked. She grabbed on to the left arm of the Cyclops with her right, completely disregarding the wet blood covering the creature. But, she was still holding on to her rod, like it somehow served a purpose to their simple dragging errand. Veatrix turned a questioning look at the woman, but all she got as a response was a cold stare. The sorceress never, ever let go of her rod – it was more than a weapon. Unfazed by her irrational annoyance, Veatrix and the sorceress pulled hard, dragging the corpse towards the middle of the wide cave. Blood trailed from where they brought the body, painting the stony ground. The two of them threw the Cyclops corpse on to a pile, the body laid out in an awkwardly revealing position. Man junk and all stared the twosome down, but neither paid it any attention.
The sorceress looked at Veatrix expectantly. “Go ahead.”
Raising a hand, magical light flowed from the half-Elf’s luminescent butterfly wings, casting a beautiful bright light all across the stone cave. The light intensified, flowing into Veatrix’s body, and traveling out through her stretched hand. The sorceress beside Veatrix had to squint to keep her eyes protected from the incandescent energy. She whispered a spell, and suddenly, white magic ripped from her hand, blasting upon the pile in front of the two magic users. Flames burst as heat met flesh, magic met monster, fire met one of Mother Earth’s creatures.
Maybe ten, fifteen Cyclops died that afternoon, their bodies burned in the name of the Schwarzer Vogel Organization.
Hot blood spilled from between the blackening teeth of the Cyclops, Gainsborough stabbing its heart angrily while the pearl inlays glowed sanguine red. The smell of iron, man sweat and cooked meat wafted through the echoing stone cave. The creature was big, bulky and stark naked, its hairy man body covered in sticky redness, but life escaped its grasps as the Cyclops closed its one eye slowly. The hole in the spacious cave’s ceiling was the last thing it saw, a ray of Corone sunshine happily smiling down on the dying beast. One last gasp and it went to meet its maker.
The half-Elf’s golden blonde hair was also drenched in blood, Cyclops life essence covering her from head to toe. Another set of perfectly good clothes, ruined. The weight of the Cyclops resting peacefully on the stabbing point of Gainsborough bore down on her. The Cyclops towered over her by at least four feet, but that was when it still had the ability to stand. Gracefully pulling Gainsborough out of the gigantic corpse, the sword making a satisfying slit as it exited the body, she pushed it to the side as blood splattered everywhere. The beast fell to the side with a lifeless thud. Veatrix Bane stared at the Cyclops’ burnt knees. Black and looking slightly like the blackened chicken she had the other day, the half-Elf grimaced.
“That’s disgusting,” she said, cooked corpse smell reaching her.
A few steps away was a short, raven-haired woman breathing heavily, her weight supported by a silver steel rod. Her obsidian eyes slowly returned to their normal appearance, the whites reappearing like lunar phenomenon. Left hand on her knee and right hand grasping the rod, she chuckled in between deep breaths.
“Never seen charred meat before?”
“Not Cyclops meat.”
The woman heaved herself off the rod, standing up straight. She was dressed in regal sorceress clothes – a luxuriously simple black dress, a thick light blue corset-belt and an intricate headpiece of excellent craftsmanship. Simple black heels, milk white skin and a thin figure completed her off-putting look. If one didn’t know better, she could easily have been mistaken for a noble. A lower class one, yes, but a noble nonetheless.
Glancing over at her lightning spell’s handiwork, the sorceress smirked. “A merc’s gotta do what a merc’s gotta do.”
“Whatever.”
Sheathing Gainsborough as its pearl inlays’ glow slowly died down, the half-Elf dusted herself off. Veatrix grabbed the Cyclops corpse by the arms, ignoring its hairy nakedness. Her strength had improved over the years of mercenary work and aimless adventuring around Althanas, but pulling a 300 lbs. body was definitely a lot of work. Even power was no match for nature’s weight. Her head motioned at the other woman to come over, her dirty, bloody blonde hair sticking to her face.
“Help me out? It’s the last one, I think.”
The sorceress sighed, exasperated, and walked over to the half-Elf. Her black heel shoes click-clacked, click-clacked. She grabbed on to the left arm of the Cyclops with her right, completely disregarding the wet blood covering the creature. But, she was still holding on to her rod, like it somehow served a purpose to their simple dragging errand. Veatrix turned a questioning look at the woman, but all she got as a response was a cold stare. The sorceress never, ever let go of her rod – it was more than a weapon. Unfazed by her irrational annoyance, Veatrix and the sorceress pulled hard, dragging the corpse towards the middle of the wide cave. Blood trailed from where they brought the body, painting the stony ground. The two of them threw the Cyclops corpse on to a pile, the body laid out in an awkwardly revealing position. Man junk and all stared the twosome down, but neither paid it any attention.
The sorceress looked at Veatrix expectantly. “Go ahead.”
Raising a hand, magical light flowed from the half-Elf’s luminescent butterfly wings, casting a beautiful bright light all across the stone cave. The light intensified, flowing into Veatrix’s body, and traveling out through her stretched hand. The sorceress beside Veatrix had to squint to keep her eyes protected from the incandescent energy. She whispered a spell, and suddenly, white magic ripped from her hand, blasting upon the pile in front of the two magic users. Flames burst as heat met flesh, magic met monster, fire met one of Mother Earth’s creatures.
Maybe ten, fifteen Cyclops died that afternoon, their bodies burned in the name of the Schwarzer Vogel Organization.