I love the smell of napalm in the morning. - Sgt. Kilgore
"GAAHH-" WHHAACK!
Alright everybody, it's time to put on your thinking caps, because today you're going to be learning about physics, with Hrist Valkyrie! Doesn't that sound like fun?
No? …Well too bad, because you don't have a choice.
Sir Isaac Newton, born on the 4th of January, in 1643, was probably one of the single most influential people in the science community. One of the most memorable things he did was to lay down the three laws of motion, and thus the foundation for the most basic mechanics of our known universe. Though more importantly, and for the purposes of our story, the law that most applies is the second law of motion. That an object in motion, stays in motion, unless acted on by an outside force. And if such an outside force were to occur, then the event could be easily quantified in a simple equation of mass, times velocity, equals force. The entire concept is very exciting and almost fun to learn.
Unless, of course, you happen to be Hrist Valkyrie.
Though the entry of the anomaly had been a slow and almost elegant event, it was the exact opposite for the exit. Hrist remembered time crawling to a stop just before she could run her sword threw his sternum, and thus begin the soul purification process. Then the next thing she knew, she was heading straight for an Acer Maple Tree. (The trees with the little helicopter seeds)
At roughly 40-some-odd miles per hour.
Newton, that rat bastard, and his crappy laws had prevented the goddess from having any real chance of stopping, or even slowing down enough to make the spectacular impact suck any less. Hrist hit the tall, thick wooden object with enough force to blowout every seeder pod off every branch. Then fall 15 feet and land on solid earth, with what looked like an entire fleet of tiny yellow choppers descending after her. The sound probably echoed for miles.
Physics, yay!
Luckily for the Valkyrie, her divine armor worked spectacularly in absorbing the impact of head versus tree. Combine this with the extreme durability that the Aesir possessed, and Hrist actually walked away from the whole thing without any serious injury. But holy crap did she have a headache though.
"Guh… Where? Wuh?" she lumbered herself to her feat and picked her sword of the ground as fast as she could manage (which considering the impact, it was actually pretty damned fast) and held it in a defensive position. Whirling around on unsteady feet, she realized that she was alone. Safe for at least for the moment, the Valkyrie prioritized her actions.
The first was to drop to her knees and clutch her aching head, saying "oowwww".
The second course of action was to take stock of her surroundings. She noticed instantly that she was no longer in the vault, in fact she was outside, probably sometime mid morning. But instead of the lush green forest of the Forest of Woe, she was in some sort of… countryside? She was suddenly aware of the miasma of curious sounds, and odors that assailed her senses. There was a colorful mixture of sulfur, and burning oil fumes that made the air almost acrid to take into her lungs. The air was also seemingly alive with noises that she had, over the years, become very familiar with. She could hear what sounded like battle going on in the distance. The sounds of screaming, both male and female, seemed to carry in the wind. She looked around and spotted a few boarded up houses that dotted the hillside as well as a dirt road, not a few hundred feet from where she was at.
"Oh boy…"
A wave of nausea rippled through her body and brought the Battle Maiden to her knees. Her headache seemed to redouble its efforts and launched an assault on her head. The world dulled around her and color seemed to seep away as the Valkyrie fought for some sort of stability.
Something was wrong, very wrong. Hrist had felt something like before, and that scared the hel out of her, because this feeling usually only came when someone was using the Sovereign's Rite on her. But she didn't see any glyphs on the ground, nor did she feel the binds of her soul coming apart from the Valkyrie vessel. Only the withdrawal of energy as the Rite disconnected…
Energy withdrawal
And that was it. That's what was wrong; Hrist was no longer connected to the lifeline of the Tree of Yggdrasil.
She tried to stand, but another wave of nausea, not as strong as the first, but just as bad, forced the Valkyrie to the ground again. Thinking as fast as she could, she ditched her Divine armor and weapons, as they were burning what little bit of light she had left in her body. With only moments to spare she opened the INVENTORY, and dived into it. She had maybe seconds, before she would be locked out, and pulled out anything she could get her hands on. Random swords, armor, health potions, and various trinkets that were supposed to aid with magic resistance, all rained around the Valkyrie. As her armor burned away, she replaced it with simple civilian clothing. A simple skirt and blouse that offered no protection to her body, but required no energy to keep in existence, unlike her armor.
Better than being nude anyway. (Though certain mercenaries might disagree)
And just like that, the last iota of power was burned up and Hrist Valkyrie was alone. Without any of her abilities, her senses, or even the INVENTORY to aid her anymore, she rolled onto her back and closed her eyes. Fighting a seemingly futile battle for conscious, she noted that she could hear heavy footfalls approaching.
Today was going to be a long one.
XxX
"What news do you have of my daughter?" The king of Artolia asked. The men, who stood before him, were a composite of city defenders, mercenaries and his own Knight Captain. These small ragtag teams of mismatched soldiers were all that was left of his officers. Many of them had only been promoted only the previous day before as their predecessors' died in battle.
Artolia was under a grand scale invasion. Their walls had been breached only days before and had since done everything they could to maintain a counter offensive. In spite of having the home field advantage, and the valiant knights that occupied their kingdom, they were simply being overrun. They were facing an enemy with endless numbers, and absolutely no sense of loss, or when to surrender. Even now, they could be heard, clawing away at their defenses, with single minded intent. They were slow, they were stupid, and they lacked any sort of tactical sense, but they had something Artolia did not. They had numbers. Artolia was down to hundreds, while the invading armies were numbering in the millions.
"My lord, Princess Jelanda has been evacuated though I cannot be sure if she is safe…" He spoke regretfully. They simply could not spare any troops to evacuate her in the fashion that he wanted, so they had to pair her with a single soldier, a mercenary at that. Though he hated to admit it, it was probably for the best, as a small team would be able to sneak out undiscovered, compared to a literal small army. "But I must warn you that we are losing what windows of opportunity we have to get you safely out of the kingdom. They have breached the third wall, and will be upon us soon."
The king calmly walked over to the window. From their vantage they could see the courtyard and part of the city that dwelled outside of the castle walls. Fires burned out of control, as some civilians, who did not take heed to the orders to evacuate or fall back to the castle were run down and cornered in the streets. There was no law out there anymore, nor would there ever be again.
"No." he said looking directly at the invading armies, he could see them march right up the main street, only to be met by an ambush of his own men, most of them weren't even dressed in kingdom colors as they were merely reserve soldiers or farmers who took up a sword in defense of their home. With extreme success they slew the invaders, minimal losses, though it was all for nothing as thousands more followed right behind them.
They all fought so bravely…
"I will not abandon my kingdom. I have been here for the good and for ill… and I will be here if it has to come to an end." He looked to a man blonde haired man, dressed in civilian clothing; he was promoted to 'Head of the Artolian Civilian Defense Force' a mere 14 hours ago. "Is the Cocktail ready to go?" he asked. This brought a smile to his face.
The Cocktail, as it was so lovingly called, was by no means a delicious drink. Fire was still one of he best ways to fight off the hordes, but unfortunately, it was also very slow. If one wasn't careful, you could turn a bunch of walking dead, clawing at your defenses, into a bunch of flaming walking dead, clawing at your defenses. So somebody invented The Cocktail.
Technically it was a form of Napalm, though it bordered on Medieval Rocket Fuel. A fine mixture of Lamp Oil, Pitch, Tar, and an Oxidizer cooked up in alchemy lab, made thick glue like paste, which burned so crazily hot that it would reduce flesh to ash in seconds, bones to dust in a matter of minutes and will even melt through most light metals. There was no putting it out either, the Oxidizer guaranteed that. It would burn, No matter what, be it freezing cold temperatures, underwater, hell even in space should the need call for it. This insanely horrible recipe, pretty much ensured that somebody's day would be ruined if ever called upon.
"We're ready. We've filled every empty barrel, wine bottle and water tank with as much as we can. You give the order; things start to cook." The king nodded and gave a long last look at his city in its final death throws. Firebombing his own city, was no way to win this war, but what choice did he have? No offer of surrender was ever given from them. They would continue until they breach the castle walls and kill them all. The only option seemed to be a 'Scorched Earth Policy', and make their victory as hollow as possible.
"Do it."
X
A Braxton fort soldier rode his horse to the top of a hill, where several others waited for him. Though none of their armor or colors matched, they all bore the Braxton coat of arms, some painted on their shields, while others had had poorly stitched cloths hanging on their armor.
The rider stopped and looked back over his shoulder, not far over the tree line, a massive line of smoke could be seen moving off to the west.
Artolia was burning…
But that wasn't really the man's concern. His job was to track the evacuees and scout for any groups that might pose a threat to them, or their operation.
"Alright boys, we got us a group of refugee's, tryin to make their way east to Solde. I counted about 30 of em. None of them are soldiers or swordsmen, so if we move qu-"
WHACK!
Everyone jumped as one of the trees, just up the road, shook violently for a second then stilled. "What the hel was that?" Said their leader, a portly man named Billy.
Soldiers, was kind of an inaccurate term for these men, really they were nothing more than organized slavers riding together under an actual banner. There were 10 of them total; all of them dirty, slightly retarded, and completely interchangeable with each other. They were not responsible for the fall of Artolia, but they will sure as hell take advantage of it. They were one of a few teams dispatched to go raid the refugees and capture as many new slaves as possible. They proved to be easy pickings with no armies to defend them. Right now, they had a total of 19 new girls, (female's were far more valuable, for obvious reasons) most of them ranging in ages from 5-32, a few of them mothers of their prisoners, dubbed 'pretty enough' to still be useful. They kept them locked in a large cage, being pulled by a mule; things did not look good for them.
"Must have been the wind?" said one of the others. A fat man, dressed in miss matched armor, which was far too small for him, he looked like somebody was trying to bake bread inside of the tin man. They knew him as Toby the Tubby. Billy turned to him with a sneer. "Toby you numbskull, I've never heard the wind land with a thud before."
"Well I dunno Billy, I'm usually not to keen on investigating strange noises out in the woods… that's how my pappy died after all. We couldn't find his body for 3 days, till somebody spotted his red shirt."
They all stopped talking, when they heard the faint sound of someone coughing, which was almost lost in the wind. "There, you hear that, you bunch of pansies. Get your asses up there! There could be more refugees."
X
"Well, well, what do we have here?" Seriously, what the hel did he have here? Upon deciding to go checkout that loud boom, Billy really didn't know what he was going to find. However, the sight of a small black haired woman, retching her guts out, surrounded by a bunch of random items, fell under the 'unexpected' column.
He looked around and he could see that most of the stuff looked extremely valuable. There were the obvious, health potions, jeweled amulets and whatnot. However, what really caught his attention were the random weapons and armor lying about.
A lot of it… actually all of it looked way better than the crap-tacular equipment that he and his men were carrying. But that still left a bunch of unanswered questions. Where did she come from? How was she carrying this stuff? Who the hel was she? Did she make that curiously human sized dent in the tree? It's like she fell out of the freakin sky.
He looked her over, she was obviously sick, but she didn't have the plague. And though she was sweaty, pale, and bent over with a hand on the tree as support, he could tell that she had a great body. He quickly decided that he was going to take her along with the other prisoners he was collecting.
"Hey honey, are you all right? You look a little pale there…" he said as an excuse to get closer. Behind him he heard others dismount their horses, he looked back and saw that three of his buddies were coming to help. Besides Toby, there was a guy named Lash. He was the prerequisite party guy, who spent too much time smoking dope and had hair that was way too long, for a man over thirty. And finally there was Ed. Sadist, all around womanizer, and enormous douchebag. He pretty much filled in the rest of the slots, that any team needed, to be considered bad guys.
The odd black haired woman answered him, though without lifting her head or turning around to face him.
"Go. Away" she said harshly, her voice ragged from all of the dry heaving she did. Billy unhooked a small handheld metallic rod with a wooden handle. Only about a half a foot long, it had a yellow lightning-stone infused into the metal. It was basically a powerful cattle prod, and a slavers best friend for incapacitating victims without having to kill them.
"Aww, don't be like that honey, I'm just trying to help. Maybe I could give you a ride into town?" If by helphe meant, capture and enslave, and ride into town, rape then force into prostitution, then yes; Billy intended to go for Good Samaritan of the year.
Hrist looked over her shoulder, and then sighed. This moron wasn't going to leave and she really didn't have the energy to try and come up with a clever way to get herself out of this. Once again, the universe seemed to be working against her, and dealt her a hand that made everything boil down to a single question. The question, that seemed to be the story of her life.
Is Hrist Valkyrie gonna have to stab a mu'fucker?
Hrist honestly didn't feel like stabbing anybody right now. She didn't feel good, and besides, she really is trying to change her ways. Arngrim would be disappointed with her if she didn't at least try to find a peaceful resolution to this. She didn't know how he did it, but he was one of the few people in existence who could make her feel bad about doing stuff.
So she gave some thought to her situation and she decided to simply go with the truth. It's not like he was trying all that hard to be subtle about being a slaver after all. Call it years of experience with infiltration, but it's hard to deny being a slaver when they bring their rolling cage of trapped victims with them.
So, with a great deal of effort, she straitened herself and turned to face him. Billy was slightly taken aback to find a very bloodshot, and very irritated set of violet eyes staring at him.
"My name is Hrist Valkyrie, I am a divine agent of the gods, and I am obviously a little ill at the moment, so I am not in a particularly destructive mood right now… However, I am having a very bad day. I currently have no idea where I am, I do not know how I got here, I cannot access my equipment, and my head is throbbing like i have a headache the size of Valhalla itself. So I feel it would be mutually beneficial, if you would kindly release your captives and be on your way. If you do this then I will not be forced to hurt anyone." She calmly explained, in the hopes that they may be reasonable.
Ah naivety, thy name is Hrist.
They laughed. They laughed long and hard, and with youthful abandon. She saw the pudgy one fall to the ground, his face going from bright red, to an almost purplish blue. There was a few distinctive 'thuds' and Hrist saw that some of the riders were literally laughing themselves off their horses. She scowled.
You see this? You see what she has to put up with? Does Lenneth or Silmeria ever have to put up with crap like this? How was it, that she always seemed to get the dumb ones, and then get disapproving fingers pointed at her for ridding the world of them?
Reining in her temper, she tapped an impatient foot and waited for them to stop laughing. Finally, after a full minute and a half, their leader stood up wiped the tears from his eyes.
"Woo! …Lady, you are rich!" he chuckled and unhooked his lightning rod "Come on now, you're getting in the kennel."
"If you do not cease this foolishness, I am going to get angry. I shall warn you now, that you would not like me when I'm ang – HNNNNNGGG" without warning Billy shoved the lighting rod at her chest. The second it made contact, her body went ridged. Thousands of volts dropped her to her knees and made every part of her already aching body, scream in pain. Hrist saw the small, stout metallic weapon, and assumed that it was a club of some sort. So she made the mistake of watching for some swinging motion. She never expected a stabbing motion.
After a few, very long, seconds, he pulled the rod away and the goddess fell limply to the ground. Satisfied that she was out, he leaned over her, and inspected her shapely form.
"Oh yea, we are gonna get a lot of mileage out of you…" he said, lecherously. He was getting ready to pick her up and carry her to the pen, when he saw her eyes flutter open. "Huh…?" He's used his lighting rod, hundreds of times, and never once has anyone ever gotten up this fast. Usually, they'd be out for hours, not 30 seconds. He reached out to stun her again, but his hand never made it. It, or rather his wrist, was suddenly in the clutches of an iron, vice like grip.
A grip that just kept getting tighter, and tighter…
Billy made, what was known to most of the male universe' as the 'O' face. However, this was not the good kind of 'O' face, this was the oh-god-my-bones-are-being-crushed face. (;o;) A notable difference, was that there would be no traditional high fiving his homies later. Billy dropped the rod, or more accurately his hand became incapable of holding it, and dropped to his knees as Hrist rose to her feet.
Right about the time that his wrist made a 'ker-pop' noise, Billy looked to his friends, and saw they were speechless. "G-G-GET HER OFF ME! GET HER OF ME!" He shrilly screamed, then her other hand grabbed the front of his armor, just under his chin, and pulled his face just inches from hers.
It was at this moment that Billy made two observations. One: she smelled really good, sort of like lilacs. Two: she was piiiiiiiiiiiiisssed.
"Congratulations" she spoke darkly "You have just ruined my sunny disposition…" then she kneed him in the crotch so hard, that he actually obtained lift off, of an impressive 3 feet, before he landed in heap on the ground.
"...avenge me..." he croaked out in a surprisingly high pitched voice, effectively neutered, since she kneed his balls with the force, rage, and fury, of an angry god.
Like the fight scene of a low budget horror movie, the overgrown dope head stepped up to the plate first, and subsequently was probably gonna be the first to die. He was sporting a shortsword, which he held more like a stick than an actual blade, and tried to throw the dark maiden off by exercising some fancy footwork. Little did the dark maiden know, he used to be a performer.
To his credit, it actually kind of worked.
I mean honestly, what do you do when you see a man, who is undoubtedly stoned out of his mind, River Dance at you with a sword.
As Hrist stared at his feet, wondering what had brought her to this low point in life, when Lash lunged at her with his blade. Without the tree of Yggdrasil, she was technically powerless. She couldn't fly, she didn't have any of her divine abilities, nor could she call for any Einherjar to aid her.
Unfortunately, as Lash was about to find out, was that she could still fight like a Valkyrie, and the Aesir, by nature, were a lot stronger than normal humans.
Hrist casually sidestepped his attack to the right, while simultaneously grabbing his sword arm with her left hand and viciously backhanded him with her right. The stoner reeled back, and Hrist pressed her assault by ripping his sword out of his hand, and kicking his feet out from under him. Effectively knocking his fancy dancin ass on the ground, and thus, putting an end to the short lived career of... Interpretive Sword fighting?
Hrist paused to take a breath, moving like that had made her nauseous, and without looking, raised a hand and caught a throwing ax that had come whistling at her. This was soon followed by a collective gasp, and some cheering from the girls in the pen.
The battle maiden looked up and saw that everyone was staring at her in shock.
"Now, as I was sa-"
"Screw you, bitch! You think we're gonna run from some uppity woman," Ed spat acidly "who happens to have a few skills, other than lying on her back! There's no way you can take us... OH SHIT!" Ed backpedaled, and luckily, tripped on his own two feet, just as Lash's sword came whizzing by like a mini helicopter blade of death, and struck the tree behind him with a THUNK. He looked behind himself, and his eyes bulged when saw that the short sword had buried itself almost a foot deep into the trunk. He looked back over at the small dark haired woman with a "uhh..."
"Are you quite through! Or must I find a larger blade to throw at you, to make my point?" Hrist said, but was absolutely baffled however, when the rest of the slavers began to murmur amongst themselves.
"Did you hear that pun? That lady's a total baddass..."
"I don't think we can beat her now..."
"Well she most certainly has my respect..."
Hrist's acute hearing was able to pick up their hushed whispers, though she honestly wished that she couldn't. This pretty much validated Arngrim's suggestions about saying ridiculous things in the middle of combat. For the first time, she thanked her luck that he was not here at the moment, for he would never let her hear the end of this.
But still...
If she could end this, without having to kill any of the mortals, then perhaps this was worth giving a shot...
She waved the throwing ax menacingly "Now I hope you are all sharp enough, not to ax any more questions..." she said, and gauged their reactions. They all began to murmur amongst themselves again.
"Never mind, now she's just trying too hard..."
"Whew! I can feel my resolve coming back, even as we speak..."
"And to think, I almost respected her..."
Hrist's right eye began to twitch.
"That is it! I have had it up to here" she raised her hand to about eye level "with you degenerates! I have tried, and tried, to show some patients with you morons. But no, of all the people in the world, I get stuck with a bunch of unbathed, two-bit, idiotic slavers, who by the way, are about to die a violent death! So I swear on everything that is holy in Asgard that if you do not release your prisoners and turn around, RIGHT NOW, and get out of my face. Then so help me I'll turn my foot sideways and shove it so far up your…"
Xx meanwhile in the burning city of Artolia xX
Arngrim leaned back against a brick wall, and used a small makeup mirror to peak around the corner unnoticed. Using this simple technique, he was able to get a tactical assessment of their position, the enemies position and what the odds of his survival were should he try to make a push towards the east gate where freedom waited.
After nearly two centuries of serving, consulting, or observing almost every kind of battle imaginable, Arngrim decided that their situation ranged somewhere between 'screwed' and 'damned screwed'. All he could do was watch the towns' defenders rush headlong into them, and subsequently be swallowed whole by the undead's shear numbers. The Kingdom of Artolia was gone, and it seemed like the only ones who didn't know it were the Artolians themselves. But Arngrim had to give em credit though; they sure as hell made them pay for every friggen inch of land.
"There is mud on my dress!" a shrill and petulant voice, pulled Arngrim out of his thoughts like a man being awoken from slumber with a cold bucket of water. The grating sound made the warrior whirl around to the source, a blonde curly haired girl of only 17, known to many as Princess Jelanda. "What did I tell you about using our stealth voices?" he whispered out angrily.
"Why are we even out here for? We should be back at the castle with my father." She huffed, having either unwittingly missed the large man's call for lowered voices or bravely ignoring it.
"Listen kid, Artolia is screwed. I'm here to get you to safety, but that's not gonna happen if you announce our position to every flesh-eating-monster that roaming the gods damned city!" He hissed out. There were numerous occasions when his cover was nearly blown for making too much noise, and as he would vehemently point out, none of them were his fault.
"I don't see the point. My father's men will hold the castle, which is where we should be." Jelanda said, completely unperturbed by the mercenary's glare. Arngrim ran a frustrated hand over his face as he tried to call upon the god of patience, if there was one. "Alright kid, here's the way it works, I get paid to do a job, I complete the job, to be honest it doesn't matter if you're conscious or not." Princess Jelanda took a step back in shock, clearly not ready for his harsh tone. "How dare you… My father WILL HAVE YOU EXECUTED!" she screamed shrilly. Arngrim tried to hush her, but it was too late. He could already hear the slow moan and shuffled steps of the dead advancing upon their position. "son of a…" Arngrim said as he was getting ready to throw her over his shoulder and make a break for it.
TCK-K-K-K-K-K-K
He recognized the sound of launching catapults the second he heard it. Not even bothering with stealth, gods knew that that was out of the question with Jelanda around; he stepped out from his cover and, to his horror, he saw the barrels and various other containers get launched into the sky.
"Aww crap!" He frantically looked around and saw a door that he was pretty sure would lead Artolia's sewer system. The door was made out of heavy wood, and was undoubtedly locked, but maybe if he kicked it hard enough, then hopefully he could break the lock.
Hopefully...
Scooping up Jelanda, like an oversized football, he took off at a dead sprint for the door. Jelanda's oversized frilly dress began to ride up as it caught the breeze, like a parachute. "Put me down you pervert!" Arngrim dutifully ignored her insults, as well as the occasional kick to the head, and the fists that pounded at his back.
xX outside the dying kingdom of Artolia Xx
Millions of slow moving, unorganized, and generally uncoordinated Hollowmen marched slowly through the main entrance that made up the once friendly gate to Artolia. Of all of them though, stood out a single figure who moved amongst them uninhibited. A she, in dark armor and a cloak that had been tailored specifically to her body, seemed to be able to part the sea of undead by just simply walking through them. Unlike the others, she was very much alive and moved with an aura of malevolence. Her face and her hair was obstructed by the hood, but her dissatisfaction at the battle before her was very evident. It was always fun to watch a kingdom crumble under the weight of the Hollowmen, almost to the point of betting to see how long they could hold out, before they surrendered, but Artolia was proving to be a real pain. The small size of their land, and the low population count actually worked to their disadvantage this time, as it allowed them to have a more localized response in their warnings. And now they were holed up tight within their little castle, with no signs of giving up.
She grabbed one of the decrepit forms, and vehemently brought it face to face with herself. One of the advantages of using the undead was that, there was no hierarchy within their ranks, and talking to one was the same as talking to them all. "Report! Have we breached their last walls yet?" she asked impatiently. The rotten body made no move to resist or nor even open its mouth to try and talk as it responded, using a sort of thought to thought process to convey its words.
'Theyyy rreessisst' came the slow reply. Angrily she tossed the Hollowman on the ground and clenched an angry fist at her side. Losses were always to be expected when using the Hollowmen to wage war. They had no real ability to think, or even try to employ any type of real tactics in their fighting style. Commands to them were literally nothing more than 'swarm this area' or 'swarm that area'. Their only virtue was that they had billions at their disposal.
Still, if taking a kingdom this small cost too many of their assets, then her superiors' would be displeased. Consequences for displeasing them were never…forgiving. The sound of catapults brought her attention to the falling kingdom, and saw that they were launching barrels, crates of small glass bottles, and just about anything that looked like that could hold liquid. All of them had rags, lit on fire, stuffed seemingly wherever they could fit them.
Her first thought was that they were getting desperate, launching whatever they could over the walls to forestall their efforts to take their city. However that thought died a horrible death the second the containers hit the ground…
They didn't really explode, as they weren't really bombs per se, everything just kind of went up in an angry FWOOMP, and was engulfed in a wall of bluish white flames. They burned so hot, so bright, that the residential parts of the doomed kingdom, for all intents and purposes, became the surface of the sun. Anything there, dead or alive, was just simply gone, vaporized in the flames or quickly being immolated from just being too close to them. The woman in dark leathers, and cloak, watched in rage as her troops, and most importantly the city, was reduced to ash in a matter of seconds, by whatever the hell was in those barrels. "they're burning down the city!" she cried, though nobody alive was around to hear her. She growled, and thrust out an arm at the city. If they wanted a scorched earth policy, then she'd give them a scorched earth.
"I call upon the heavens that hear my command. Bring forth your fury, and smite all those who who stand before me..." She chanted, in a voice that crackled with power. "CELESTIAL STAR!"
XXxXX
"…and once I have your intestines, I shall use them to hang you from this tree, and rip out his spine" Hrist pointed an angry finger at one of the other slavers. He jumped and pointed to himself with a 'who me?' "and use it to beat you like a piñata until I get some candy to fall out of you!" she finally stopped and continued to breath heavily.
Nobody. Said. A word.
Half of the captive girls in the slaver's pen were crying, while the other half had their hands over their ears and their eyes screwed shut; trying to retain what little innocence they had left. All of the slavers had various degrees of shock and horror written all over their faces. With the exception of one guy, who had turned green and fainted 25 minutes into her angry tirade, he was still unconscious on the floor.
And they weren't the only ones…
Ever flower in a 30 ft radius had seemingly 'un-bloomed', as well a couple of butterflies that reverted back to their cocoon state.
Mid flight
All of the Braxton men looked to each other, trying to see if they all agreed that the small black haired woman in front of them, may in fact be the devil.
"…Uh, I don't know guys. I don't exactly know what or where my Gall Bladder is, but I'm pretty sure I don't want it pulled out through my nose…"
"Pfft, you're getting off easy! She said she was gonna rip out my Liver and jam it down my throat… just so she can rip it out again!"
"RETREAT!" they all took off down the road. Hrist lowered her throwing ax and carried herself to the slaver's pen, intent on freeing the others, when she noticed the driver was still on it. The two made eye contact and she knew exactly what he was thinking. "…Don't you dare…" she warned with the darkest glare she could muster.
Dare he did however, because with a crack of his whip he took off down the road as fast as he could. Completely intent on leaving her in the dust, he executed near perfect evasive driving. The various desperate cries of 'Help us, please!' or 'Don't let him take us!' from the captive girls were barely heard over the sound of beating hooves.
Hrist rolled her eyes and sighed. Sometimes, she wondered how these mortals managed to live as long as they did, and not have their numbers thinned down by the rules of Darwinism. Seriously, how the Hel did they survive, day to day, without falling victim to natural predators, shallow puddles, or hazardous rakes lying about on the ground. For the man zigzagging down the dirt road was forgetting one teeny tiny flaw about his dramatic escape.
His entire setup was being pulled, by single a freakin mule.
Blazing down the road, at a little over half the speed of smell, he was just about to execute an evasive maneuver known as 'The Crazy Ivan', when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked over and, to his horror, saw that the scary lady had not only caught up to him, but was now pacing him at casual walking speed.
"I shall give you a 10 second head start before throw this." she warned, waving the throwing ax in front of his face "So if I may be so bold, I would suggest that you attempt your escape in a method that does not move at 4 miles per hour."
"Oh Gods!" He jumped off the mule, and was about to take off sprinting, when Hrist grabbed him by the front of his shirt. "Keys" she demanded darkly, and he shakily gave them to her, and she released him.
As she rounded the cage, she noticed that the captives were quietly staring at her in fear. She ignored this and stuck the cell key into the lock and turned it. Though she heard the click of the lock, she continued to turn until the key snapped off with a 'tink!', effectively ruining it from being able to lock again. Once the door was open she shambled herself up and into the cage, everyone gave her a wide berth.
"Does anyone know how to use that?" she asked wearily, and pointed to the mule. One young woman, who was most likely a farmer, raised a timid hand.
"Is there a safe place we may head to?"
"The Paladins are said to have set up a meeting point, north of here..." A mother said as she hugged her two daughters close. Hrist nodded, having no idea who they were. She flopped down on top of a dirty blanket that had been placed on the bottom of the pen, for the captives to lie on and made herself comfortable. It smelled, and was more than likely infested with who knows what, but she didn't care. She was bone weary, and they could use the rolling slave pen as transportation to wherever the hel they were going.
A rumble in the distance made her lift her head, and she saw the flames from the battle, wherever it was at, suddenly flare to the point that it almost looked like an artificial sunset. Soon afterwords, specks of light began to twinkle in the sky, and the clouds parted.
I know that spell. She thought. That's Celestial Star.
Suddenly, huge rays of light, began to streak downwards, and pummeled the flaming wreck of the city. It sounded like the apocalypse as beam after beam, slammed into the castle. Reducing it to nothing but rubble.
The world vanished behind two slits of light, as the Valkyrie didn't have enough energy to keep her eyes open.
'This has been a long day' was the last thought she had before the darkness claimed her.
Well, what do you guys think about the little fight? Meh, eh, or ugh?I tried to make it a bit less vague, and more personal, but i think i overdid it on the comedy, and turned the whole thing silly. I'm totally up for suggestions and i most certainly could use the feedback.
Side note: i have no idea what noise a catapult makes, but i have played a lot of Age of Empires, so i'm going to assume that they're accurate.
As a bonus, a small part of the next chapter will be voiced by Morgan Freeman! Why? Because he's awesome! Seriously, i would pay good money to hear him read the phone book.
You know what to do.
V