A Death of Two Warriors

"'...pregnant. I still find it hard to believe it happened. It still annoys me, in a way. I wish I could be at full strength again. Getting stronger. But... I am just getting weaker by the day. Yet... I am excited about it... even happy.'

I think to myself, as I walk on a riverbank in the Cimmerian Border Kingdoms. I got used to taking walks lately... Ale just did not taste good to me anymore... drinking tea all day? No... I missed the action. I missed the ale. So I end up walking around with not much to do. How ridiculous...

I stop for a moment to look at the water. I dip my fingers into the freezing cold water... and hear a voice. Someone shouting, calling for a Cimmerian woman, from the other side of the river. Me? There is no one else around. She says she is looking for Nashara. Why would someone be looking for me? This is not right. She mentions something about the prophet - Imoteph - just as I hear footsteps and horse hooves moving closer behind my back.
'Damn it! Not now...' I turn around, just to see the bastard prophet himself with a whole army of his snake-loving followers.

I reach for my sword immediately, but... I know this is bad. I am in no condition to fight this many of them. Not now. I would normally make a dash straight at the bastard, but... I take a more defensive approach this time. I have to be careful... I cannot afford to waste any strength.

I look around myself, only slightly moving my head, at all the bastards around me as he... they, tell me to drop my weapon. As if I would, ever. But I feel so weak. This weapon is not the best one in my current state. I am down on the ground before I even know it... not even getting a good chance to strike and my sword slips out of my hands. How pathetic I have become! I get back up on my feet, but the sword... The man behind me grabs my arms and ties them behind my back. His grip too strong... No. It is just me being far too weak. Then again, even if I free my hands, then what? I was unable to do anything with my weapon... But it is too late now. He pushes me forward and I find myself face to face with the so called prophet himself. He speaks of his crap, Set and what gift that filthy snake has given them. 'Well this is my gift!' I tell him and spit at him. He does not seem too bothered... and he wants me to bow. To Set. Hmph! I bow to no one! Much less a filthy Stygian or his stupid god! After enough refusals they take the wolf jaw from my head and drag me towards the river. The one who tied my hands grabs the back of my head and pushes it down beneath the surface of the water. I try to raise myself, but it feels too heavy. The hold loosens after a while and I barely manage to get up to draw some quick breaths before I am find myself held underwater again. I feel fists land on my back and at my sides. They make me groan and cough precious air. They will not make me bow... I will never bow!

The water is cold... very cold. But they will be freezing long before I do. He pulls me out of the water again. Imoteph, standing in front of me, just beside the water. The Stygian beside me tells me to just give it up. Bow. It would be easier. Quicker. Hah! Since when did I choose the easy way? I was raised the hard way and lived that way each day of my life! I grin at him and kick him in the leg... which is followed by a flurry of hard hitting punches on my face in a matter of moments. My face feels somewhat numb... They drag me back out of the river. That bastard, Imoteph... he puts a hand on my cheek... touching my face! Mocking me! Mocked... by a Stygian! I move my head away, refusing to bow, insulting him and his people again. He takes his mace and swings it straight at my face, breaking my nose on impact. Blood rushes down from my nose, over my lips and down to my chin. Aye, my nose broke... but his arm is not strong. He is not a warrior. I have felt worse. I keep grinning and staring into his eyes with blood covering my mouth. But then... he whispers to me that he knows. He knows about my child. He was 'promised a gift of two' he says. My grin fades, my eyes widen. Is it... fear? No... I'm sorry. Sorry. I will not bow to that snake. I will be dead before I bow! I will be killed anyway. And if not, I would not be able to live with myself. Father would despise me even more. Nasher's death would be wasted. And my child... would be tainted by my act. We shall die. As warriors. Not cowards. Staring into the eyes of death, as I have done many times before. I shake my head to clear these thoughts and spit at Imoteph, a mixture of spit and blood from my lips.

He seems annoyed... He calls for Samun. I remember him... He looks strong. He is strong. But I am used to pain... He slams my body down rapidly, with my hands still tied behind my back I land chest and face first, bouncing off the ground slightly. I try to raise myself off the ground, but a foot on the back of my neck presses my face down into the dirt which sticks to the blood on my lips. He says he will give each one of them a turn to strike me with fists, daggers or blunts, in order to not kill me. I raise my head slightly as the armored man steps off my neck, just to have someone else's foot stomp on the back of my head, crushing my face onto the ground. I let out a loud groan as I feel my skull cracking slightly under his weight. I feel something blunt hit the back of my head. My vision fades for a brief moment. I feel my body getting somewhat numb. I hear someone speaking of an intermission from the pain. I grin again and chuckle. Pain? Intermission? Father has given me more pain when I was not even used to it, without giving me time to catch my breath. Imoteph sounds annoyed as he shouts 'Samun punish her!'. I feel a strong grip on my left ankle, holding my leg straightened up. A kick lands at the side of my knee, making it snap like a piece of dried wood. My mind spins, my head tilts backwards, up from the ground. The grip loosens and my leg drops back on the ground. My knee feels as if it was burning, I grin wildly, staring around with burning eyes. A lot of things happen, but I feel like in a daze. My body getting numb, my vision getting blurry, I struggle to remain conscious, but I will never beg for mercy, never bow. I feel punches on my head and all over my body, kicks against my ribs. Hear voices in my head, seeing strange visions... nightmares... I try to shake it all of, out of my head, make them shut up. I have seen many things, I have lived through nightmares. I will not break from something like this.

Some of them keep hitting me, as Imoteph discusses something about crucifiction, or seeing how long I can last under their blows.
'At this rate I will die of old age' I let out some sort of crazed laughter.

Samun grabs me and carries me to the tree nearby, putting me down to stand with my broken knee. I sway around, struggling to keep my balance on my good leg, groaning as I support myself with the crippled one. It takes only a few moments before my weakened and beaten body loses the strength to stand and I drop down on the ground. Imoteph is shouting something. I am having a hard time understanding what is going on. I suddenly feel my back slam against the tree. I feel a nail piercing my arm. I hear the hammer beating onto the nail. My vision blurred, the sounds all confused and mixing. My muffled scream mixes in with all the sounds as the nails pierce my limbs, yet I try not to show any pain.

I look at my hands, nailed onto the tree. My eyes, filled with rage. I stare right in front of myself. I struggle, trying to pull my nailed arms off the tree, groaning and roaring loudly, like an enraged wild beast. Too furious to understand words and be aware of my surrounding. My mind lost in rage and madness, the pain somewhat subsiding. I stare into the eyes of the man who stands in front of me, grinning in a frenzy. My eyes staring in furious rage when something sharp suddenly pierces through one of my eyes and moments later through the other. My blurred vision turns into complete darkness. The warm blood flows down my cold cheeks. It feel so slow as the blade sinks deep into my throat. Blood gushes out, I feel it pouring down my chest. I try to breathe, unable to draw air, only blood fills my lungs, making me cough with gargling sounds coming out of my open throat. I still struggle to free myself, refusing to give up. Refusing to die. My movements getting slower and weaker, my mind drifting away, my hearing fading from a confusion of all sounds, turning into silence, my body completely numb. My head falls forward, hanging low as I lose any bit of strength to move... I feel... weak... cold... I..."

Story written by Nashara based on a series of RP events between Set Mosis and Clan Fearghal
In memory of the richest, most respected and deepest character on Corinthia. All raise you glasses and toast the memory of 'Wolf Girl'