Original Stuff Continues...
Apr. 11th, 2007 04:41 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dethoratsPrompt: Coerce
Word Count: 451
As silent as one of the sleek black cats reputed to stalk the swamps and battle even the great green lizards for prey, Miera slipped off of her steed. With careful fingers and the ease of long practice she tied the reins in a clever knot that her horse could pull free should the gelding need to. Then, after double-checking the placement of her thick hide breastplate and the ties holding daggers to both her hips, she slid through the shadows towards the glowing beacon of the fire.
There were two of them, well-stacked pyramids of wood whose flames burned bright and straight, fragrant smoke tickling Miera’s nostrils as she crept closer. Her path through the swamp had led her to this unexpected place and she once again spared a thought to wonder about just what sort of sorceress would be waiting to face her steel. In her admittedly limited to one other encounter with swamp-dwelling magic users, the residence had been a ramshackle hut covered in vines that had blended easily into the tangled growth that surrounded it. But now before her lay stone, old and dotted with moss and lichen, but heavy and grey, squared stuff that should long ago have been swallowed up by the stinking black water around it.
Cautiously Miera moved forward and even through the soles of her boots she could tell when the land changed. It firmed drastically, leaving her on much better footing than the sucking, slippery mud that had composed the sturdiest path up until that point. Like the interior road, a finger of rock must have underlain the area, allowing for the heavy construction. The fires burned on chipped and crumbling columns, acting almost like sentries as they lay to either side of the only obvious route. Beyond that, shadows from the flames dancing on the moonlit walls, lay what to Miera’s well-traveled eyes looked like a temple.
Square construction in an ancient style, with a gently sloping roof and a great black hole for a doorway, it hadn’t been at all what she’d been expecting. Her thoughts jumped to snakes and booby traps and Miera stepped very slowly between the flames. When no warning buzz of magic tingled on her flesh and no rotting bodies of those who’d perished before her popped up to challenge her, she squared her shoulders and ventured towards the door. The moon was moving inexorably higher and she didn’t have much time. And as she stood half in the inky cool arch of the doorway and half in the silvery glow of the moon, a soft and sonorous chanting tickled in her ears, urging her feet forward in spite of her determination to proceed slowly.
Word Count: 451
As silent as one of the sleek black cats reputed to stalk the swamps and battle even the great green lizards for prey, Miera slipped off of her steed. With careful fingers and the ease of long practice she tied the reins in a clever knot that her horse could pull free should the gelding need to. Then, after double-checking the placement of her thick hide breastplate and the ties holding daggers to both her hips, she slid through the shadows towards the glowing beacon of the fire.
There were two of them, well-stacked pyramids of wood whose flames burned bright and straight, fragrant smoke tickling Miera’s nostrils as she crept closer. Her path through the swamp had led her to this unexpected place and she once again spared a thought to wonder about just what sort of sorceress would be waiting to face her steel. In her admittedly limited to one other encounter with swamp-dwelling magic users, the residence had been a ramshackle hut covered in vines that had blended easily into the tangled growth that surrounded it. But now before her lay stone, old and dotted with moss and lichen, but heavy and grey, squared stuff that should long ago have been swallowed up by the stinking black water around it.
Cautiously Miera moved forward and even through the soles of her boots she could tell when the land changed. It firmed drastically, leaving her on much better footing than the sucking, slippery mud that had composed the sturdiest path up until that point. Like the interior road, a finger of rock must have underlain the area, allowing for the heavy construction. The fires burned on chipped and crumbling columns, acting almost like sentries as they lay to either side of the only obvious route. Beyond that, shadows from the flames dancing on the moonlit walls, lay what to Miera’s well-traveled eyes looked like a temple.
Square construction in an ancient style, with a gently sloping roof and a great black hole for a doorway, it hadn’t been at all what she’d been expecting. Her thoughts jumped to snakes and booby traps and Miera stepped very slowly between the flames. When no warning buzz of magic tingled on her flesh and no rotting bodies of those who’d perished before her popped up to challenge her, she squared her shoulders and ventured towards the door. The moon was moving inexorably higher and she didn’t have much time. And as she stood half in the inky cool arch of the doorway and half in the silvery glow of the moon, a soft and sonorous chanting tickled in her ears, urging her feet forward in spite of her determination to proceed slowly.
