That Time of Year, 3
Her head pounded, and she ached for a drink to ease the pain. But she had to stay alert, and tried to focus. She really couldn’t afford to screw this up – there was too much at stake. She lay on the rocks, still cool this early in the morning, hair still damp from her bath, the light scent of mageroyal oil on her skin, and used her spyglass to survey the camp. Her information had told her there had been an attack planned the night before. The Forsaken never seemed to mind the night shift. All she had to do was wait for the casualties to come in.
And, come in they did. An entire brigade, most either walking or on foot, and carrying or dragging the wounded. There was a great deal of chaos, as the Dawn scrambled to assist their brethren, and that was her cue to act. She wouldn’t be greedy, she just needed one. Read the rest of this entry »
That Time of Year, 2
She lay on the hilltop, hugging the land, only raising her head to look through her spyglass. As the sun was setting, it cast an eerie light over the barren, plagued land. She watched the patrols, counting their steps, timing their route. In her head, she went over the Laws.**
Death. They’d let her die, with their ineptitude, their corruption, their faith in that mumbo jumbo they called Light. They’d refused to save her, refused to bring her back. With Death we lose fear of our foes, and with Death we instill fear on the minds of those who deserve it. Living close to Death we will know Strength.
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That Time of Year
Bjorke poured the last of the bottle into her glass, spilling slightly. “You might want to go easy on that stuff,” Iophon had said to her. “Find another way to deal with things.” Yeah, she thought. Good idea. Maybe a bit of a rampage, eh? That always helped. She lay her head on the desk for just a moment, then she’d get ready. She hated this time of year. Read the rest of this entry »
