Orcs of the Red Blade

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Hard ground

Started by Claws, November 27, 2010, 12:21:01 AM

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Claws

She raised her head from the hard ground and a shooting pain lanced into her brain.
Not such a good idea she thought.
She wiped thick congealed blood from her forehead and raised her head more slowly. 
The pain was still there but not so intense this time as she took in her surroundings.
A large tree branch pinned her left leg to the ground.
Placing her booted right leg on the limb of the tree and pushed it off, wincing with the pain.
Good the leg was not broken but it was badly bruised.
She wobbled slowly to her feet, intense pain once again shooting to her head.

Holding her head in her hands she tried to stop it from spinning.
A quiet whimper came from behind her.
Turning slowly as not to aggravate the pain in her head she saw a large grey wolf pinned below the trunk of the same tree.
She moved slowly towards the wolf that looked up at her with sorrow in its deep yellow eyes, the animal’s body was bent and twisted unable to move it let out another shuddering whimper.
She reached to her belt instinctively and felt a blade strapped to it taking it out she looked at the blade not recognising its perfect fit into her hand.
She bent down to the wolf and patted it on the head feeling its matted fur but not recognising the feel of it.
The wolf looked at her trying in vain to get up one more time for his mistress and companion.
With one quick move she dug the blade into the wolf’s neck severing the spinal cord.
The wolf let out its last rasping breath a look of contentment passing over its face.

She fail to her knees trying to gather her thoughts.
With her head on her chest see saw the strange cloth which was covering soft leather armour.
Armour she did not recognise even though it fit her perfectly and obviously was well looked after.

She lifted the cloth to examine the emblem emblazed on the front.
Try as she may she could not understand what the emblem meant to her.
In fact she could not remember how she had got to where she was or even who see was.
Standing she looked again at the wolf trying to piece together what had happed.
She took off the cloth lifting it over her head thinking to bind her wounds with it.
A strange feeling of reverence and attachment to the cloth stopped her from ripping the cloth.
Instead she folded it and tucked it into her belt.

With feeling return to her legs she checked her self over nothing was broken.
She dropped her hands too her sides with despair they fell on too the two blades that readily hang from her belt.
Taking them out from the worn scabbards they felt warm and again she noticed how perfect they fit her hands.

She looked out into the distance.

“What the”
Was all she could say.

True Blood
Once a Blade Always a Blade.

Retired Right hand of the Blades.
Lived enough to be older and wiser then many pup's

Remember a journey is not a final destination.