Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]
Welcome to Legends Of Arcadia!

We are a site for Roleplay set in the world of Arcadia, as found in the Sega game 'Skies of Arcadia'. We welcome you visitors as you take your first step toward this world, away from the solid land beneath your feet and into a world of floating islands and soaring ships.

If you're looking for adventure, then hop on board our board and explore the endless skies!

Join our community!

And if you're already a member of our crew, please log in!

Username:   Password:
Add Reply
Tournament Round 1 - Zanara vs. Jareth
Topic Started: Mar 28 2009, 05:11 AM (689 Views)
Jet Blackbeard
Member Avatar
aka Bear
Ixa'taka - Abandoned Valuan Outpost

During Valua's occupation of Ixa'taka many small outposts were set up along the fringes of the jungle to support the ground troops chosen to explore the dense foliage where no airship could venture. After Valua's withdrawal from the kingdom most of these outposts have been abandoned and are slowly being reclaimed by nature.

The outpost is closed in on three sides by a high wall of wooden stakes scavenged from the forest. The fourth wall has collapsed, opening the outpost the the jungle beyond. A field command center occupies the area in front of the far wall. Running the length of the righthand wall is a combination barracks/messhall. Opposite this structure is a warehouse filled with bare shelves and empty crates. The area between the buildings has been overrun by tall weeds and shrubbery.

This is the final bout of the Tournament's first round. Sargoth is up first to post and the deadline is one week from today (next saturday).
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Necromancer Sargoth
Member Avatar
Affably Evil
A cool breeze washed over an old Valuan outpost, rustling the grasses in the vegetation choked courtyard and bringing a smile to the face of the ruin’s sole human inhabitant. The sounds of the jungle surrounded her: hoots and howls of a thousand different varieties both near and far crept forth from the dense foliage encircling the lone remnant of civilization, if it could be called that anymore.

One of the tall palisades surrounding the encampment had completely given way, allowing the jungle it had successfully restrained for little more than a decade to pour into the courtyard, a cascade of vines and saplings. The Valuans had used wood to construct their buildings here rather than the stone of their homeland for sheer expediency’s sake and the humidity of the jungle has wrecked havoc on the structures. Even though the Valuans had only been gone for a few years, the buildings looked as if they stood empty for the last fifteen. The roof of the commander’s bunker had collapsed in several spots, and the warehouse’s sagged considerably. A fledgling tree had poked its top through hole in the command center.

The steady consumption of the outpost by the ancient trees amused Zanara, who had sprawled her body out atop the barracks roof to relax in the morning sunlight that burst through the hole left in the jungle canopy by the Valuan invaders. Even the barrens of Valua reclaimed that vaulted civilization in the end. Large stretches of their glorious Imperial City had returned to craggy highlands, devoid of human presence save for the twisted ruins of factories and formerly sumptuous villas. She closed her eyes and imagined nature swallowing her up too, the bugs crawling over her body, breaking it down. The moss affixing itself her remains as she decomposed back to nature. She smiled from the sheer beauty of the thought.

A groan of protest rose from beneath the Ixa’Takan as she shifted her weight slightly; the roof beneath her would surely collapse had a heavier form tried its stability. Indeed, when she had crawled out of an upper window to reach this roost, she almost slid straight off the roof when a batch of rotted shingles gave way; however, this spot was worth the risk. The mossy shingles beneath her cushioned her body. After a long trek through the jungle collecting plants, this was an excellent place to rest and revitalize, and she would be safe from wandering beasts. She had removed her vest, and it sat neatly folded next to her along with her travel bag and herb satchel. Her weapons were stowed safely in a bandoleer, which she had also removed and placed on her other side. She flirted with the idea of removing her boots as well, but did not want the hassle of putting them back on while sitting on the roof.

Zanara stretched again, her shoulder blades digging deeper into the mossy rooftop. The wind felt so good, a relief from the oppressive humidity. Her light cotton shirt allowed her skin to breath, unlike the heavy canvas vest. She allowed herself to drift off into a light sleep. In a few hours, she would be on her way again. Her ship was docked some ways away and it would be a long journey; best to rest now before attempting it. The Ixa’Takan listened happily to the birds and wind as she drifted away.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
The Karlminion
Member Avatar
180-proof Redneck
Sometimes, people can be sick. Not as in ill, but as in disturbed. Truly depraved, off-whack, out of sync. Such were the thoughts that wandered idly through the head of the increasingly frustrated blond man as he hacked through the jungle with a dented machete. A long saber of exceedingly fine quality dangled from his side; opposite that was a rather large revolver, also ornate and finely made. Displayed prominently on his chest was a silver medallion, that denoted a Captain of the Valuan Armada; it protected its wearer from Silver magic, and boosted overall defense, both normal and magical, by a small bit as well.

None of that had saved him from the cruel jokes of his former company, however. They had thought it great sport to throw this arrogant bastard overboard with little more than a canteen of water and a machete, along with whatever he happened to have on him. "Crazy Nasreans," he cursed, cutting down another sheaf of vines to reveal yet another sheaf of vines. "When I get out of here I'll show them what happens when they mess with a Captain of the Armada..." Never mind that he was semi-retired, of course.

Abruptly the jungle gave way, and he halted in some amazement. He'd stumbled across one of the old outpost created by his countrymen during the occupation of this cursed land! "Abandoned, though," he muttered, casting an eye about the place. Nevertheless he took a firm grip on the machete as he proceeded cautiously into the perimeter; in this infested hellhole, who knew what lurked about?

The layout was fairly standard despite its decrepitude, and he had little trouble finding his way about. He looked at the barracks, set on his right, and blinked in surprise as he saw a woman lounging atop the roof. A native, from the look of her, but not dressed like one... no matter. "Hey! Hey you!" he cried, stepping through the weeds as he drew nearer to the building, glad simply to have found another living person. He briefly rued the fact that he wasn't very presentable, his hair being a mess and his khakis stained and torn, but that didn't matter.

Then he got a look at her face, and he stopped dead, dropping the machete. His own face darkened rapidly into anger, and he whipped out the rather large pistol. "You!" he snarled in rage, cocking the weapon and firing before he could take proper aim at the woman atop the roof. The gun roared, echoing loudly and startling the wildlife as it launched its massive bullet in a bellow of smoke; he himself was knocked backward a few steps, but he kept hold of the powerful firearm. "You killed my cousin, you bitch!"
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Necromancer Sargoth
Member Avatar
Affably Evil
She heard him before he appeared; the sound of the machete tearing through vegetation drawing her out of light slumber. Her hand moved to the bandoleer resting beside her, but Zanara did not move. There was no need to startle whoever approached. The man called out to her, so she sat up and got a good look at him. The stranger looked to be a Valuan man of noble carriage, quite haggard though. He must have taken a long trek through the jungle; it was clear he had little experience with the land, however. His weapons were of a superior quality to most of what Zanara has seen before, but his finery, despite its worn condition, made him look silly while standing in the middle of a ruined jungle encampment. The image of a peacock in a koketa hut briefly flashed through Zana’s head, but things were about to take a more serious turn.

Before Zanara could compose half an utterance, the Valuan’s demeanor changed. His face twisted into a mask of fury, and his hand reached for the massive firearm holstered at his side. “You,” he shouted, accusatory.

She had little time to react, but as her newfound foe drew forth the cumbersome revolver, she scooped up her weapons and tried to roll out of the way. The weapon discharged with fury, and everything seemed to move in slow motion. Hundreds or perhaps even thousands of birds exploded from the jungle around them, fleeing from the horrific noise of the gun. The bullet sank into the rooftop to the left of Zanara, tearing into the softened wood and obliterating Zanara’s rooftop sanctuary. A rain of moss and splinters began to pelt Zanara as she tried to make it back to the upper story window; the shards of the rooftop stuck in her hair and clothes. The roof protested with a final groan of agony before giving way entirely beneath the Ixa’Takan.

As she fell back, down into the barracks, the man’s angry voice rang through the sound of a thousand birds’ flight: “You killed my cousin, you bitch!”

She tried to remember as she fell into the darkened barracks just who this man’s cousin was. She had killed many men (and women) during her brief stay in the Valuan Empire, so she did not doubt the peacock man’s claim. Her back struck the top of an old steel bunk bed hard, banishing all other thoughts and sensations save pain. A few bolts shot out of the military bed in shock and soon the whole thing collapsed around Zanara.

The scene calmed. Zanara lie back, stunned, amongst the twisted steel and broken bits of roof. At first she was not even sure she could move, but simply laid there, looking up at the sky through the gaping hole in the roof. The sunlight pouring into the barracks played with the dust particles and debris stirred up from the attack. Zanara steadied her breathing and thanked the goddess she still had a grip on the weapons bandoleer.

After what seemed like an eternity, Zanara rolled out of the twisted heap of debris that had likely saved her from a broken back. She slowly got to her feet, feeling somewhat safer inside the building, but she knew her attacker would not stop until he confirmed her death. She wobbled slightly and regained composure before slipping the bandoleer around her frame. Despite a sore back and what would undoubtedly become a giant bruise, the Ixa’Takan was no worse for the wear.

She looked around quickly. The inside of the barracks contained a forest of skeletal steel bunks, but little else to offer cover. There were several windows and a door. She threw a piece of debris out one of the windows to draw the man’s fire, but then ducked over to a separate window. She hoped the man was distracted. “Moons, give me strength,” she muttered through clenched teeth. The entire barracks was flooded with green light as the Noxi spell shot towards the Valuan out in the courtyard. Hoping it hit him, she ducked back into the building for cover and prepped her blowgun with a fresh dart from the bandoleer. She’d have one good shot at him, if he tried to come in.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
The Karlminion
Member Avatar
180-proof Redneck
The man's cousin, one Francis Montoya, had been a gambler and a womanizer, squandering his bit of the family fortune on games and girls. Nevertheless he didn't deserve to die like... how he'd died; the sight of the corpse, curiously drained and with a look of mingled ecstasy and horror, would have haunted him forever had he not already been haunted enough for one man. Perhaps two, who could tell?

He had missed Zanara falling through the roof due to dealing with the recoil of his gun, but he didn't miss the thrown debris. "I won't fall for that old trick!" he shouted, putting the gun back and yanking at the hilt of his sword as he ran forward. Unfortunately he couldn't do both things at once in the weed-infested courtyard, and fell flat on his face as a noxious green cloud whooshed overhead. Before he had time to thank his limited luck some hideous bug thing leaped out of its lair and bit his left hand; with a startled cry he scrambled to his feet, kicking at the creature with his booted feet. He connected and squashed it, providing him some measure of satisfaction.

He looked back up and was about to keep charging when he paused, letting rational thought have its say. "She's probably ready for you in there, Jareth old boy," he said to himself. "Old hunting trick, laying in wait for your prey." Not that he knew much about hunting, of course, but he did have ears and a mind for strategy.

Do what they don't expect, Jareth thought, remembering his days in the academy. He had never paid much attention except in swordsmanship and navigation, but he hadn't been a bad student; he liked to think he knew a thing or two, and since he was still alive he obviously did. His crew wasn't, though. "Men, I swear, one day I will make amends," he muttered, holding his red moonstone to his chest, "but for now I must avenge my cousin."

He stood up and made his way to the broken window, doing his best to be stealthy; no doubt she had heard him, though. He did not show himself in the opening, however, instead keeping back a few yards and out of sight. He winced, holding his bitten hand up; it was already swelling, and would doubtless be of less use in the fight to come.

It could still grip a moonstone, however, and that is all he required of it. "Moons, blast my foes!" he cried, summoning the power of the Red Moon. A glistening sphere of energy flew through the window and ignited in a splashing radius of fire; it probably wouldn't harm her, but that wasn't his exact intent. The fiery energy would ignite the old wood, though, which was his exact intent; the murderess would suffocate or burn to death if she didn't leave the building, which was already smoking as the flickering flames took hold within, and he intended to be at the ready.

Stepping toward the door, he drew his sword and focused on the opening before him, ready to deliver a vicious slash the second he saw human movement. He held the blade overhead, at a slight diagonal, for a downward slanting attack that could cut a person in two if the user was strong enough. Jareth wasn't quite strong enough for that, but still.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Necromancer Sargoth
Member Avatar
Affably Evil
She waited in the dank, twilight of the barracks for the Valuan to come, but as precious seconds passed into minutes, Zanara grew worried. She could not have predicted what came next. The red glow of the Pyri spell preceded the jet or magical fire that shot through the window, where the Noxi cloud had passed through only moments before. The spell, though basic, did its work well. Flames spread across the floor, igniting the dusty planks as it moved further outward like a burning pool of pitch.

The Ixa’Takan put away her blowgun hastily, her body pressing tightly into the corner in a subconscious bid to escape from the already intense heat of the flames. The next few moments were critical, but she stood paralyzed from the sheer surprise of the maneuver; she had not judged the man to be magically inclined. The fire began to grow in intensity as the magic induced flames began to burn the wood in earnest. Already the air clouded with noxious smoke; Zanara would have to flee quickly or be cooked alive.

Her hair cascaded down around her face in sweaty clumps as she tore her kerchief from atop her head. She tied the green cloth tightly around her face, letting her breathe a little easier. A wall of fire confronted her now, blocking her path to the door and windows. An infernal plume of blackness escaped from the hole in the roof and the broken windows and rose high into the clear blue skies of Ixa’Taka, marring the natural beauty with a long scar of darkness.

The fire began to singe Zanara’s clothes before she snapped out of her stupor. Wasting no more time, Zana grabbed hold of one of the bed frames, the heated steel burning her hands, and with a bit of a struggle, she overturned the furnishing into the rising wall of fire. The bed’s impact sent a rush of wind, stoking the flames around it, but allowing a small path to open up for just a moment. As the flames licked the ceiling, Zanara rushed across the steel frame to the other side. She could escape the fire now, but escape to what fate?

There were three courses left to Zanara at this juncture of destiny: the door, the window, and death by fire. The fire seemed most unpleasant, so Zanara only briefly considered that option. She did not know where her foe was outside, but she decided against the door, as it was the easiest means of escape, and the Valuan would expect her to head right for it. There was the window, but what if he expected her to expect him to be outside the door and instead he was waiting by the window? What if he had his gun ready to shoot her no matter where she came out? What if? What if? The fire grew larger and drawing breath became increasingly difficult. Zanara’s eyes darted back and forth between the door and the window, the window and the door. Her feet shuffled back and forth. Time ticked away relentlessly, and she could feel the flames at her back.

She backed up against the far wall in the barracks before breaking into a sprint towards freedom. Leaping into the air as a diver leaps toward the water; Zanara put her future in fate’s uncaring hands. Her lithe frame sailed through the window, out into the grassy courtyard. She smiled when she saw her assailant, sword raised, waiting tensely outside the door. Into the weeds she rolled with the skill of a gymnast. All the world disappeared as the tall grasses consumed her. By happenchance her hand fell onto the discarded piece of steel she had tossed through the window earlier. Her hand gripped the metal, knuckles whitening as she clutched the weapon in her grasp.

She stood up, the tall grass reaching up to her chest. What a sight she must have been: hair wild and full of moss, grass, and bits of wood, face smeared with soot and a bit of blood, eyes half crazed. She charged her foe suddenly, without warning, kicking up all sorts of startled creatures from the grasses. With half the distance closed between then, she lifted the pipe and hurled it at the man’s body. It arched through the air, tumbling over and over in a circle, careening towards the Valuan’s head. He would have to dive out of the way, and then Zanara would be ready.

She tore the kerchief from her face, tossing it to the side, and drew her dagger. The green moonstone glinted in the sunlight, the poison slicked over the blade promised a painful end. She continued her charge towards her foe. The fire continued to consume the barracks in the background. She leapt at the man, prepared to plunge her dagger deep into whatever bit of flesh she could manage.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
The Karlminion
Member Avatar
180-proof Redneck
Jareth grinned as the flames of his spell consumed the aged wood, and tensed himself for his attack; with the speed of the spreading fires and the accumulating smoke, Zanara would have to make her decision quickly. Leave and get cut down, or stay and burn. Either way, his cousin would be avenged at last. "This is for you, Francis," the Valuan whispered, waiting for her to come out. The fire spread quickly, smoke was already curling up to the heavens; perhaps she had chosen death? Who knew what these savages thought?

Unfortunately, the woman seemed to have her own surprises, which did not include her own death right then.

An adept lunge through the window got her out of the burning building, and away from the reach of his sword. The grass swallowed her briefly, and Jareth lowered his sword with a frown. "Damn it," he muttered, peering over in her direction. She wouldn't go far, there was now too much at stake in this fight for both of them. Jareth had to avenge his cousin, she had to defend herself and eliminate this madman.

She stood up, and he was momentarily distracted by her appearance. "Savages," he muttered, raising his sword again. There was no denying she was pretty; doubtless she had used this to lure countless victims to their deaths. Now, though, covered in bark and moss, streaked with soot and blood, she wasn't so alluring. Her crazed glare met his own, and he returned it with equal menace.

Then she charged suddenly, hefting a piece of metal and throwing it at his head. It was unexpected, but not beyond dealing with; Jareth simply raised his blade and batted it aside, where it landed harmlessly in the grass. The roar of the flames filled his ears, but he paid it no heed; his foe was charging him, a cruel-looking dagger in hand. Quickly, he fumbled for his yellow moonstone, holding it in his still-swollen left hand. "Moons..."

He dove aside at the last second, away from the plunging knife. "...blast my enemies!" he shouted, turning in mid-dive as the bolt of power arced outward from his hand. It was only an Electri spell, but at this range it would be hard to dodge. Unfortunately, away from the knife meant toward the enflamed barracks, and he landed right on a small pile of glowing embers that were just starting to ignite the grasses. The grasses were saved, but Jareth's sides and part of his arm were badly singed. "Ahh!" he screamed, bolting to his feet and slapping at the burned skin. It was his sword arm too; he still held the blade and could use it, but he knew his attacks wouldn't have as much force behind them now. If he survived this, he would need new clothes at the very least.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Necromancer Sargoth
Member Avatar
Affably Evil


As she dove to plunge her dagger deep into the flesh of her enemy, the man dodged hard to the right. Zanara knew she was in danger as the yellow light built up around her enemy. The air held that telltale crackle of energy that made the hairs stand up on your limbs. As the man fell away, he reached out towards her and let loose the spell.

At the same time, Zanara used her momentum and leapt forward once again, desperate to move out of the spell’s ranges. As he feet left the ground, bits of dirt and grass trailing after her, the Electri blast blasted forth from her foe’s palm. It arched through the air, catching Zanara’s shoulder before she could get out of the way. The rest of the beam shot through the courtyard and slammed into one of the other buildings far away, exploding a few planks in a dazzling shower of sparks. Sparks which settles in the grasses around the building, starting the beginnings of another fire.

The jolt of electricity surged through Zanara’s arm and coursed through her body. She landed with a thud in the tall grass, stunned. She convulsed on the ground for a moment before the electricity left her body. The spell had been weak, and not a direct hit. She knew she would be alright, but not if she could not get up before her enemy found her.

Zanara heard his scream of pain, and his scrambling to get up again. From the noise of him beating his own clothes, she knew he must have hurt himself in his landing. She remained still and focused on his sound. Her head still pounded from the Electri blast, and her mouth tasted of blood. She had a good idea of where her enemy was. Her fists clenched. “Moons…” she whispered.

She shot to her feet, much slower and clumsier than she had expected. She almost fell back over into the grasses, but regained her footing. His clothes had been badly singed; he must have fallen into a hotspot. Her hands flew forward, as if she were punching the air in front of her. The magic flowed from her hands. “Poison my enemy!” she growled the words, blood slowly oozing from the corner of her mouth.

The Noxi cloud erupted from the ground around Jareth. The thick, noxious green gas obscured him from sight. Zanara took this opportunity to run away, not far, but she wanted to increase the distance between them again. She ran into the center of the courtyard, a safer distance from the burning barracks. The barracks looked most unsafe, as the flames now clearly had engulfed the ground floor. The fire shot from the hole in the roof, and the windows, catching the grasses and the rooftop on fire. Zanara suddenly remembered her vest and bag, cursing her luck. Her potions and herbs would all be destroyed. This stupid man and his revenge would cost Zanara thousands. She gritted her teeth in irritation and drew the blowgun once more. She crouched into the grasses for a little bit of cover; the next shot would be much worse than a little bit of jungle gas.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
The Karlminion
Member Avatar
180-proof Redneck
Jareth coughed to clear his lungs of smoke, and inhaled a mouthful of the poisoned air. "Gack!" he gasped, trying to clear his airwaves again, but it was too late; the noxious fumes curled through his lungs, and he felt his energy start to slip away. He growled and tried to focus past the pain, though that was hard since there was a lot of it. Let's see... bug bite, burns, general fatigue, and now I've been hit with Noxi, he thought. "Francis, you'd better be worth all this," he growled, holding his sword up.

His burnt hand twinged, and he gasped again. "Come on, focus!" he hissed, deliberately tightening his grip; the pain flared, and he gritted his teeth, willing it to pass. It didn't, but after a moment it was bearable, and he could hold the sword normally again. He stood up straight, looking out over the courtyard from behind a singed tree; the smoke from the fire obscured things, and a part of him reckoned this section of the jungle would burn to the ground if rain didn't come.

"Good damn riddance," he said with a hiss, scanning the area. There, trying to hide in the grass, was his foe. A curl of smoke floated by, further obscuring the sight, but it passed quickly as a slight breeze dusted through; this fanned the flames higher, and their wicked, greedy cackles grew in intensity. Even if one of us survives, we will both burn, and our corpses will be left as so much ash and char, some bit of him muttered.

That suited the enraged Valuan just fine; he had no intention of going away from this anyway. No more spells, no more dodging, no more fancy tricks; everything would be decided in the next few moments.

Taking a deep breath of briefly clear air, the Valuan officer raised his blade, sighting down the glittering yellow shape. "Men, I am sorry," he said softly, thinking for the last time of his fallen crew. "I never avenged you, or made your sacrifice worth it. You died in vain to save the life of a worthless man, and for that I expect I shall burn forever." Or perhaps not; perhaps, if he avenged his cousin and rid the world of a psychotic mass murderer, his karma would improve enough that the moons would look more kindly upon him. Wait a second... since when do I believe in karma? he asked of himself. Then he shrugged; since he could see his death coming headlong at him, with he himself running full-bore to meet it head on.

Enough talk; time for death and fire! For the last time, Jareth raised his saber in salute to fallen warriors, and his face contorted in grim rage. He gathered himself briefly, then sprang forward, sword held straight and over his shoulder for the killing thrust. "DIE!!" he screamed to the heavens, prolonging the word into an echoing battle cry, as the flames roared around him in his sprint toward Zanara. His vision tunneled; nothing else existed except he and the woman he was about to kill. Dimly, he felt something lodge in his neck, like a dart or a beesting, but that didn't matter, not any more.

He was upon her; the masterwork sword flashed down, seeking life's blood; it slid through flesh, piercing bone and lung and heart and more bone; his body crashed into hers and they fell backward, but still the blade did not stop. Nor did it stop until they were on the ground, his face inches from hers, the pommel and hilt of the blade between them; it had stabbed clear through to the guard, skewering her to the ground beneath him. "My cousin... his name was... Francis Montoya..." he gasped, searching for something in her blue eyes. Then he rolled off with a moan of pain, grasping his stomach.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Necromancer Sargoth
Member Avatar
Affably Evil
As the cloud of gas cleared, and her opponent gasped for fresh air, which was quickly becoming a rare commodity due to the billowing black plumes of smoke, Zanara’s heart sank. All too quickly, he had spotted her hiding amongst the tall grass. His expression changed to one of rage, and he charged forward. There would be precious seconds to act.

She brought the thin wood of the blowgun to her lips, wrapped then around the small weapon, aimed, then blew. The dart shot out of the pipe with a faint pop and a whoosh. The projectile, laced with misery and death, sped towards Jareth. The needle tip buried itself deep into the flesh of the man’s neck, a thin trail of blood highlighting the mortal wound. The poison was specially crafted by Zanara by combining jungle plants and snake venoms. He was not long for this world. As her opponent continued to barrel towards her, barely flinching, Zanara realized Jareth would not depart this world alone, unless she could act quickly.

The roof of the burning barracks collapsed, distracting Zanara for a moment. The massive golden tower of embers that burst into the air captivated her, a true thing of beauty. The embers showered back to the ground like little falling moonstones, glittering in the sunlight. The distraction proved fatal. Zanara only had enough time to take a few steps backwards before the Valuan was upon her.

The soft white cotton of Zanara’s shirt offered no resistance as the sword pierced her stomach, moving up. A brilliant red stain spread out over her shirt like a blossom opening up to meet the spring. The brutish man fell atop her, unable to stop his momentum. Her ribs cracked under his weight, but she did not feel it. She could only feel the warmth retreat from the world as the world turned fuzzy, as if Zanara were suddenly in a blizzard. She did not feel her skull crack as it landed upon a rock jutting forth from the ground, but only the sensation of wind as it moved through the grass. She had no thoughts, but just a vague sensation that something had ended, and it was time to go away now.

In truth, Zanara had died as soon as Valuan steel pierced her heart, destroying her life. Jareth’s brother, and countless others had been avenged, but they did not celebrate. They remained dead, and the dead do not rejoice. When she had landed, pinned by the sword to the ground like a giant bug in someone’s collection, her eyes remained open, staring up into the sky. They had the unfocused, glazed-over quality that belonged only to the dead and the blind. Jareth would find nothing in them save his own fate.

The camp burned merrily around the duo as Zanara’s corpse emptied its blood into the thirsty soil. Her hair wafted in the breeze with the grass while a river of blood poured from her parted lips. She looked like she had wanted to say something, and would stay frozen that way until the fires set by the Valuan consumed her.

Zanara the Mad died a violent death, and she would have had it no other way. She died knowing the man taking her life would die in horrible pain, alone in the jungle. She died also knowing that she had thoroughly enjoyed torturing this man’s relation to death, although she did not recall his name or face. She died satisfied, because in a twisted way she felt victorious. In a way, she had tortured and murdered Jareth too. Her story was finished.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
ZetaBoards - Free Forum Hosting
Join the millions that use us for their forum communities. Create your own forum today.
Learn More · Register Now
Go to Next Page
« Previous Topic · Non-Canon RPs · Next Topic »
Add Reply

Autumnea Theme created by Zeus00 and converted by Wolt of the ZetaBoards Theme Zone