pre-rats story
Rating : PG-13
Timeframe : mid 1260's
The door swung open with the slightest touch, scraping loudly against the floor as it teetered on hinges barely still attached to the frame. Lyssa staggered inside. She put a hand to the wall to keep herself from collapsing to the floor. Her arm quivered but held her weight and her eyes filled with tears as she took in her surroundings.
The surface of every wall of the tiny temple was blackened as if by flame from floor to ceiling, and the floor likewise, though the structure of the building was more or less intact. Even the shrines that lined the walls were charred beyond recognition.
"Dear gods, what happened here?" Her voice was barely a whisper, but it seemed to Lyssa to echo off the walls of the empty building. She straightened herself and stepped away from the wall, wincing at the sharp pain the effort brought.
She staggered towards the altar, her legs threatening to give way with each trembling step. Behind her, a trail of blood marked her passage. She focused on the statue before her. The Goddess seemed to beckon her forward, offering her peace, if she could only drag herself a few feet further.
The offering stone was untouched by the flames that had scarred the rest of the church, Lyssa noticed as she aproached, as was the floor around it,, though the damage resumed behind the statue.
Finding herself at last at the foot of the altar, Lyssa allowed herself to collapse. She struck the floor with her hands and knees. The force of her landing brought a cry of pain. She stayed there a moment, staring at her own blood-stained hands pressed against the floor, until she was able to catch her breath. Pressing her palm to her wounded side, she gritted her teeth and forced herself to her knees.
With more effort than it had ever taken her before, she withdrew her blade from the scabbard on her back. The sword slipped from her shaky grasp and clattered to the floor in front of her. She picked up the sword and, laying it flat across her palms, held it up in offering to the Goddess. The statue before her swam in and out of focus as she struggled to continue.
"Please, dear Goddess," she said, lowering the blade against her knees. "Please, give me the strength... I must make it home..." The room grew suddenly dark around her and numb fingers released the sword, which hit the floor with a resounding clang. Lyssa fell silently beside it.
Timeframe : mid 1260's
The door swung open with the slightest touch, scraping loudly against the floor as it teetered on hinges barely still attached to the frame. Lyssa staggered inside. She put a hand to the wall to keep herself from collapsing to the floor. Her arm quivered but held her weight and her eyes filled with tears as she took in her surroundings.
The surface of every wall of the tiny temple was blackened as if by flame from floor to ceiling, and the floor likewise, though the structure of the building was more or less intact. Even the shrines that lined the walls were charred beyond recognition.
"Dear gods, what happened here?" Her voice was barely a whisper, but it seemed to Lyssa to echo off the walls of the empty building. She straightened herself and stepped away from the wall, wincing at the sharp pain the effort brought.
She staggered towards the altar, her legs threatening to give way with each trembling step. Behind her, a trail of blood marked her passage. She focused on the statue before her. The Goddess seemed to beckon her forward, offering her peace, if she could only drag herself a few feet further.
The offering stone was untouched by the flames that had scarred the rest of the church, Lyssa noticed as she aproached, as was the floor around it,, though the damage resumed behind the statue.
Finding herself at last at the foot of the altar, Lyssa allowed herself to collapse. She struck the floor with her hands and knees. The force of her landing brought a cry of pain. She stayed there a moment, staring at her own blood-stained hands pressed against the floor, until she was able to catch her breath. Pressing her palm to her wounded side, she gritted her teeth and forced herself to her knees.
With more effort than it had ever taken her before, she withdrew her blade from the scabbard on her back. The sword slipped from her shaky grasp and clattered to the floor in front of her. She picked up the sword and, laying it flat across her palms, held it up in offering to the Goddess. The statue before her swam in and out of focus as she struggled to continue.
"Please, dear Goddess," she said, lowering the blade against her knees. "Please, give me the strength... I must make it home..." The room grew suddenly dark around her and numb fingers released the sword, which hit the floor with a resounding clang. Lyssa fell silently beside it.