The voices, they don't stop. Whispering filthy insults.
"Behind my back, you traitors." She thought to herself.
Celyreos trailed through the ice white snow; her battered and bloody Lo Guardsmen plate leaving a red trail behind her back to the prison-like tunnels that provided freedom for those oppressed by the false queen. Her sword dragged a line behind her, stained red with the blood of another man; a necessary compromise for her goal. She was abandoned by what she thought were her brothers and sisters in arms, left to rot in that corrupt city she once called home. She kept herself warm with a fire raging internally; a final wish that she could get revenge on those who betrayed her. Sadly, the whispers continued. The traitorous lies fabricated by those she trusted; making them the deepest wounds of all.
She saw the glow of the Rothburg lights in the far distance, a glimpse of her former team. Surrounded by the grey-skins, armed to the teeth and ready to take her right back to the city. Death to all, she thought. Her travels taking her to a battered cabin in the woods, abandoned and left to waste when the invasion started. She set up camp for the night, removing her armor and returning to her former overalls; the colors of traitors, it seemed. The midnight sun continued up, lighting the woodland up as best as it could, still allowing a group of soldiers to get the drop on her position.
She reached for her weapon as the first one broke the door down with one quick kick, her first kick going towards the Deathlings shin as her dagger would quickly sweep up and slip into his throat before he managed to get his bearings from the charge. Blood sprayed, ash quickly enveloping as she moved onto the next target, a human who volunteered against their own empire, another example to be made to the false queen, Lo. She waited for him to make his charge, arrogantly busting through the doorframe with his sword raised in an idiotic decree. She quickly went in for a full-strength heel kick to his pelvis, a sudden crack as she quickly went for the throat once more, laying him to waste.
One more left, she acknowledged. Her situation was no longer as grim, she just had to hold her ground. She'd quickly throw the knife towards the remaining Deathling. A sprint quickly ensuing, her hand reaching down to grab a short sword from the deceased troop before slicing it against his wielding arm, incapacitating him. Looking the creature in the eyes, the whispering continued. Her face grew with a deeper anger, her eyes emanating the anger she had repressed for her service years. Suffice to say, if the Deathling could feel pain, it would wish for death rather quickly.
She continued forward, soaked in the blood of the traitorous, but her job was far done. Fortunately for the Survivors, Freya Lo's troops had packed up and left for an unknown reason; only the vultures left to pick off what they could find within reach. She left those ash piles in her wake, alongside the red trail back to the city. Approached by the former brothers and sisters, swords in arms. She peered, her sword at the ready; she didn't look very peaceful.
Finally, her eyes sat on her final target. Veridan Daevaar, the whispers grew and grew to the point where she couldn't think rationally, her anger and resentment grew alongside it. He exclaimed something to the borderline insane woman, "Drop the weapon, Celyreos!" Celyreos gripped her shortsword tighter, her face turning white as she gritted her teeth. It became pretty clear what the result was quickly going to be, the other soldiers got to the ready. The whispers finally stopped in one fell swoop, dropped her sword and fell to her knees. Tired of the war, tired of hating. She was finally back to the only place she could call home, losing that again was no longer a risk she wanted to take.
"Behind my back, you traitors." She thought to herself.
Celyreos trailed through the ice white snow; her battered and bloody Lo Guardsmen plate leaving a red trail behind her back to the prison-like tunnels that provided freedom for those oppressed by the false queen. Her sword dragged a line behind her, stained red with the blood of another man; a necessary compromise for her goal. She was abandoned by what she thought were her brothers and sisters in arms, left to rot in that corrupt city she once called home. She kept herself warm with a fire raging internally; a final wish that she could get revenge on those who betrayed her. Sadly, the whispers continued. The traitorous lies fabricated by those she trusted; making them the deepest wounds of all.
She saw the glow of the Rothburg lights in the far distance, a glimpse of her former team. Surrounded by the grey-skins, armed to the teeth and ready to take her right back to the city. Death to all, she thought. Her travels taking her to a battered cabin in the woods, abandoned and left to waste when the invasion started. She set up camp for the night, removing her armor and returning to her former overalls; the colors of traitors, it seemed. The midnight sun continued up, lighting the woodland up as best as it could, still allowing a group of soldiers to get the drop on her position.
She reached for her weapon as the first one broke the door down with one quick kick, her first kick going towards the Deathlings shin as her dagger would quickly sweep up and slip into his throat before he managed to get his bearings from the charge. Blood sprayed, ash quickly enveloping as she moved onto the next target, a human who volunteered against their own empire, another example to be made to the false queen, Lo. She waited for him to make his charge, arrogantly busting through the doorframe with his sword raised in an idiotic decree. She quickly went in for a full-strength heel kick to his pelvis, a sudden crack as she quickly went for the throat once more, laying him to waste.
One more left, she acknowledged. Her situation was no longer as grim, she just had to hold her ground. She'd quickly throw the knife towards the remaining Deathling. A sprint quickly ensuing, her hand reaching down to grab a short sword from the deceased troop before slicing it against his wielding arm, incapacitating him. Looking the creature in the eyes, the whispering continued. Her face grew with a deeper anger, her eyes emanating the anger she had repressed for her service years. Suffice to say, if the Deathling could feel pain, it would wish for death rather quickly.
She continued forward, soaked in the blood of the traitorous, but her job was far done. Fortunately for the Survivors, Freya Lo's troops had packed up and left for an unknown reason; only the vultures left to pick off what they could find within reach. She left those ash piles in her wake, alongside the red trail back to the city. Approached by the former brothers and sisters, swords in arms. She peered, her sword at the ready; she didn't look very peaceful.
Finally, her eyes sat on her final target. Veridan Daevaar, the whispers grew and grew to the point where she couldn't think rationally, her anger and resentment grew alongside it. He exclaimed something to the borderline insane woman, "Drop the weapon, Celyreos!" Celyreos gripped her shortsword tighter, her face turning white as she gritted her teeth. It became pretty clear what the result was quickly going to be, the other soldiers got to the ready. The whispers finally stopped in one fell swoop, dropped her sword and fell to her knees. Tired of the war, tired of hating. She was finally back to the only place she could call home, losing that again was no longer a risk she wanted to take.
