Steel on Flesh, a short story

[Varkin_corvidus]

Screaming and the sounds of battle echoed along the stretch of coastland, a cloud of black acrid smoke blotting out the sky for miles around.

The raiders had struck just before daybreak, their dark garb hiding them seemlessly in the pre-dawn twilight.
They had descended on the small town like a murder of crows descending on the bloated corpse on a battlefield, and now, like crows, were picking their find clean.

They were tall, slender, almost beautiful, but their faces were hard, dark, each bearing a twisted and cruel expression. Each was clad in light armour over dark robes and most wore cloaks of Sea Dragon hide. Some wore tall slender helms, others simply had their long raven hair tied up in topknots. All carried an assortment of cruel, curved, serrated swords and daggers. Some carried short spears, others were armed with reapeating crossbows.

With viscious almost unbelievable speed, they had spread through the town, dragging people from their homes. Any who resisted had been butchered like cattle, the air reaking of spilled blood and entrails. The town's garrison of 100 men at arms had been massacred in a matter of seconds, no match for the black raiders
One amongst the raiders stood out. She wore a beautifully crafted, articulated suit of full plate armour, forged from blackened steel, trimmed with burnished gold. her face was hidden behind the ornately carved facemask of her tall helm, the faceplate itself having been carved into the likeness of a snarling Manticore. Around her shoulders, like her fellow raiders, she wore a Sea Dragon cloak, hers of much finer quality, the scales a much deeper shade of ocean green. She sat attop a monsterous lizard, easily the height of a full grown warhorse, if not taller, the beast's blunt snout stained red with gore, tendrils of blood and spittle dripping onto the churned ground. At her hip were hilted two long, slender bladed swords, and holstered in her saddle was a crossbow, much like the ones being used by the other raiders.
Reaching up, she carefully removed her helm, revealing long, crimson hair, the colour of fresh blood, tied back in a multitude of tight braids, interwoven with silver wire and smalle hooks and blades, and a face as beautiful as it was cruel and cold, totally flawless, not a single mark from battle or age.

Kalithra Banelance surveyed the scene of utter chaos before her. Half the town was aflame, it's people, those to weak or scared to fight, were being rounded up by the raiders. A decent haul, all things considered. She had lost in total ten corsairs, with at least three more having suffered injuries that would make them useless, compared to over a hundred humans butchered, a loss, but one she could cope with.

A sudden burst of angry shouts, followed by the clash of weapons and the sound of steel on flesh caused the Druchii highborn's attention to snap from her thoughts the a nearby house.
A knot of corsairs were stood in a small circle, shouting and jeering at something. As she steered her mount closer, she snalred with contempt as she saw the cause of the problem.
One of the corsairs was lying dead in a slowly spreading puddle of his own lifeblood, standing over him was a young human, probably not even 16. The boy had impaled the corsair using a rusted pitchfork before snatching up the dead druchii's fallen sword. Now, he was stood in the centre of the circle of corsairs, lashing out at them like a cornered animal. Rather than fight, the corsairs were simply laughing in ammusement at his feeble attempt at resistance.
Kalithra rolled her eyes, drawing out her crossbow and putting a bolt in the young human's forehead. The jeers and shouts of the corsairs died the minute the bolt burried itself between the boy's eyes.
"You sea birds have had enough sport! Finish rounding up these animals and any plunder you can find, we need to be gone before any shore patrols arrive and ruin an otherwise perfect morning." The noble turned her cold-one away from the group of corsairs, turning back as an after thought."Oh, and someone bring back Kalvar's body and sword. I want them to be puzzling over who it was that burned this town until the day we strike here again."

Throughout the burning town, screams echoed as the corsairs gathered the rest of the town's population and began hearding them towards their black ships. Here and there there would be a short clash of weapons, followed by a scream of pain and the sound of steel on flesh.
"A sound one could really grow to enjoy..." Kalithra mused aloud, reholstering her crossbow and slowly returning her helm to her head, "Yes, I could truly grow to like this."

[Drainial]

Its not bad, decently writen to be sure. The story line was a little generic, but it is only a very short story and a good way to get going.

You should try your hand at some longer pieces (or direct me to them if you already have, I would like to take a look) with a more individual storyline.

[Darkprincess]

Oh this is great. I only wish I'd had more writers of your calibre during my tenure as CoP initiative leader !

Well done

[Varkin_corvidus]

darkprincess: thankyou i wish i'd been around then

Drainial: i am working on more stuff, based on the same character.
It will be posted as soon as it;s done

[Syjahel]

I really enjoyed this I think the level of description is right - something I'm not sure I do myself - and it's very atmospheric. And perfectly Druchii ...

There should be more.

A lovely day at the seaside, Naggarothi-style!

[Danceman]

Vivid images which creates the right kind of atmosphere. Well written, varks!

[Uruthi]

Nice story! I liked your descriptions. There was not much of a storyline, but it doesn't really matter when the stories are this short. You use the word "vicious", I see it a lot in warhammer texts, but the word is associated to vice. I can't really picture how you run if you run viciously, how is that related to vice? Just a thought.