Mirchie
The user previously known as Hero-in-the-Dark
- Joined
- Oct 18, 2009
- Messages
- 1,342
- Reputation score
- 57
After a few minutes riding, Kiri emerged from the other side of the swirling red portal, and felt once more the sudden change in gravity upsetting her stomach, before the demonic mount levelled out. The sun was beginning to set, casting an orange, bloodied glow across the grassy plains surrounding the burnt out village.
Almost lazily, the dragonhawk flew down the road, obviously knowing where it was going. The scent of forest filled the Viera's nostrils, such a pleasant change to the smell of odd grass and brimstone.
Eventually, the burnt out camp came into view, and as the Dragonhawk landed, the scent of charred flesh filled her scents, quickly overpowering any resemblance of pleasantness. The camp was in even worse state than when she had last left it. All the tents had been burnt down, and the corpses of the former prisoners littered the area, most cut down by sword, though a few who had tried to flee had had either their heads or chests burnt through, and little patches of arcane fire still burned brightly near them.
As Kiri dismounted, the dragonhawk inclined its head slightly, before taking off, back towards its homeland, where undoubtedly the cruel demoness was 'breaking in' her new captives.
After a little searching, the Viera found the sight of the battle between Mîrchell and Arynythil, noticeable by the ice still sticking out of the ground. The she-elf was still there, staring gormlessly at the sky, the massive hole still in her chest. Grass and other plant life were wrapping themselves around her, covering a couple of fingers and creeping around the broken body, though it hadn't been claimed yet, and could easily be freed. Insects seemed to be respecting her, for some reason, no flies had gathered around her exploded chest yet, even though there was quite a bit of gore gathered there among the scraps of shattered rib and torn lung.
Almost lazily, the dragonhawk flew down the road, obviously knowing where it was going. The scent of forest filled the Viera's nostrils, such a pleasant change to the smell of odd grass and brimstone.
Eventually, the burnt out camp came into view, and as the Dragonhawk landed, the scent of charred flesh filled her scents, quickly overpowering any resemblance of pleasantness. The camp was in even worse state than when she had last left it. All the tents had been burnt down, and the corpses of the former prisoners littered the area, most cut down by sword, though a few who had tried to flee had had either their heads or chests burnt through, and little patches of arcane fire still burned brightly near them.
As Kiri dismounted, the dragonhawk inclined its head slightly, before taking off, back towards its homeland, where undoubtedly the cruel demoness was 'breaking in' her new captives.
After a little searching, the Viera found the sight of the battle between Mîrchell and Arynythil, noticeable by the ice still sticking out of the ground. The she-elf was still there, staring gormlessly at the sky, the massive hole still in her chest. Grass and other plant life were wrapping themselves around her, covering a couple of fingers and creeping around the broken body, though it hadn't been claimed yet, and could easily be freed. Insects seemed to be respecting her, for some reason, no flies had gathered around her exploded chest yet, even though there was quite a bit of gore gathered there among the scraps of shattered rib and torn lung.
