Sunday, 3 June 2012

Kirsten Explores: An Un-Expected Reaction

She'd thought the eerie silence and the presence of the elf behind her disquieting enough. She was even sure that, as she'd turned to acknowledge the elf's statement that he would accompany her, she had caught Malmir eyeing her. Like a house-frau  appreciating a cut of meat on market-day. And she hadn't been convinced that the elf's close proximity at the doorway had been entirely unintentional either. That thought alone had been enough to frighten her considerably. She'd been reassured somewhat by Johann's insistence that he had her back. But nothing -nothing- in her young life had prepared Kirsten for what she saw in that room.

Feeling her stomach heave, Kirsten quickly turned her head to one side, raising her left hand -a hand that had never known a truly honest day's work- rapidly to her face. But it was too late. She tasted bile forcing it's way up her throat even as she clasped her hands over her mouth. A torrent of gooey sludge, the remnants of the best -and richest- meal  she'd ever had, spurted out from between her fingers and onto the cold, bloodied flagstones below.

"I'm alright!" she hissed softly, between heaves, padding as quickly and as quietly as she could into the room. moving to cover the exits in case her humiliation had revealed their presence. "Just throw  the  pebble qui...hurruuuck!"

Pain burning in her chest and gut, she took up position beside the other door, sword in hand -when did I draw that, she wondered absently- and listened. Or tried to listen, her heartbeat thudding too loudly in her ears, beating out a drumbeat so loud that surely the elf -with his demonic senses- could hear it thumping within her chest.

With pale-cheeks-turned-dark- crimson from humiliation and heaving, she stood ready, sword raised inelegantly above her head, to carve down the first foe that entered the room.

"Ranald no, please grant that I don't have to kill", she muttered, blinking fiercely to stem her tears. She'd always known that her own death was a very real possibility. Especially tonight. But somehow, inexplicably, she'd never that she might need to take a life herself. She'd envisioned a simple con. A quick in-and-out snatch and grab. Not....not this. Not the shambles of a knackers yard.

Standing, trembling beside the doorway, blade raised high, tears streaming down her face, Kirsten let go of any pre-text that she was a competent, honed killer, and simply, fervently, hoped that Elves were as fearsome and adept at killing as she'd been told. She almost daren't look  back at him. Expecting that she would see scorn, ridicule, or scathing, hungry hatred for a weak food-animal written full across his angular, feral face. Instead, she kept her eyes focused on the door she guarded, determined to do what was necessary to ensure the continuation of her life.


  1. Assuming there is another exit from the room, Kirsten scrambles over to the first one she sees and takes up position ready to slash the first thing that comes through the door.

    If there's no obvious exit (but considering that Oldenhaller said there were three gangss down here, I reckon there must be) then please assume she's somewhat disorientated and think's she's standing by a door, even if it's just another wardrobe or a cupboard.

  2. A thrilling and brilliantly written post, Lead Legion! Great stuff!


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