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The Yew Wood

Discussion in 'UO Catskills Role Play' started by Rick Moore, Sep 2, 2015.

  1. Rick Moore

    Rick Moore Visitor

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    As Mikael rode along the overgrown path through the Yew wood he heard in the distance a voice. A soft melody... a woman's voice. Guiding his mount off the path he made straight away to the sounds emanating in front him.

    There in the clearing ahead, Mikael could make out the framework of a small farmhouse. Dismounting and tying his horse to a nearby tree, Mikael surveyed the scene. On the near side of the home Mikael could now clearly see the woman hanging clothes on the line singing to herself as she went along with her daily chores. A plain woman of the wood, nothing exceptional about her save her long flowing blonde hair.

    Just as Mikael began untying his mount to take his leave someone else appeared from inside the home. A man no doubt her husband, wielding an axe. He brushed by her giving her a lite smack on her bottom. Startling her from her song, he continued on towards a large pile of uncut logs. As he placed the first log on the stump Mikael finally got a good look at the man's face. "Damn him!" He was one of the men that successfully fought against the Hand at the Knights Rest tavern.

    The blood in Mikael's veins instantly ran hot. Mikael circled his way through the wood so when he broke cover the ground between he and the woodcutter would be at a minimum. Poised to strike Mikael waited... twenty then thirty minutes passed. The woodcutter's strength had to be fading. As he bent for yet another log Mikael's patience finally failed him.

    Mikael broke cover, bounding as swiftly as he could he covered the ground necessary in a few seconds. The woodcutter so intent on his work never heard Mikael's approach. As he looked down at the log he was about to split a strange burning sensation coursed through him. His loose fitting tunic began to pull away from his chest and in a flash he could see the tip of Mikael's kryss burst through the cotton fabric. The woodcutter staggered forward a step the axe falling from his hands as Mikael violently twisted his weapon free. The man turned to face his attacker blood spilling from his lips as he dropped to his knees and let out a rasping gasp. "Spare them please." was all that could be discerned.

    Whirling instantly Mikael wasted no time in seeking out the singing woman. The killing of her husband happened so rapidly and silently she had not even stopped hanging her wash. As Mikael approached her from the side she turned and blurted out, "Dearest what would you have me make for din....." Mid-sentence she realized death was upon her. With surprising speed she turned and ran making for the front door of the home. Mikael trailed after her making up the distance between them just as she opened the door. Grabbing a handful of hair from behind, Mikael pulled her close to him. "I do not know if I should have my way with you or simply kill you now."

    Ignoring the threats laid upon her she screamed, "RUN LAURIE RUN!" Realizing there was another person in the house Mikael simply wrenched her head to the side with one swift and powerful motion. She fell dead on the ground.

    Mikael entered the only other room in the home just in time to see two small legs and feet worm their way through a small crack in the wood siding. He made his way back outside in time to see a young girl.. a girl with the same long blonde hair as her dead mother. Mikael would have to deal with this child another day. It was time he made his way to the contest this eve.

    Mikael D'Amavir >H<
    Hand of Terror
    The only way to make good is to be bad
    ICQ: 8630161
     
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  2. D'Amavir

    D'Amavir Visitor

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    She ran through the wooded area as fast as she could. The thorny bush snagged on her skirt and left it, and her legs, a ripped and bloody mess. But she ran on. Each time she thought she was about to reach a clearing, the woods seemed to expand in front of her while the monster at her back came ever closer, his hateful laugh filling her with terror.

    An exposed root caused her to stumble and he was upon her. His rough hands threw her to the ground and his sick voice said, "I've got you now, little girl."


    She awoke with a shout as her eyes filled with tears. Looking around, she calmed down a little as she realized where she was, but the fear remained…
     
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  3. Aranha

    Aranha Visitor

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    Dervish growled to himself as he dismounted his ostard quickly, his eyes looking over the small farm with a tinge of annoyance. Mikael had given instructions in a bemused tone "I've left you a present in Yew, a cottage on the outskirts of town. Go and clean it up" .. He snarled as he strode into the home, looking upon the helpless corpse. He upended the table in a fit of rage, his annoyance with the Britannian growing stronger, being sent to dispose of bodies as if a simple errand-boy.

    He kicked another piece of furniture and set about his task, pulling the lifeless woman carelessly through the doorway and up onto the back of the ostard, his mount turning its head to examine the load so haphazardly slumped over its shoulders.
    Dervish was once the bodyguard to the Chieftain! He thought as he strode back towards the farm, following the drops of blood back to the other corpse. He had consumed mighty warriors, fallen to his spear in battle. Honorable combat. These people were nothing but farmers, and Mikael thought of this as his "gift". ...He found the bloodied remains of the man, perhaps skilled in the way of severing limbs ..from trees. He hoisted the man up over his shoulder, grunting at the weight. Well, he was certainly a brute. He frowned and returned to his mount, leading the beast along with the cargo deep into the woods...

    He arrived at the mountains before dawn, to a cave far from his own where wolves and other fell things were known to frequent. He continued his thoughts as he unceremoniously dropped the corpses against the rocks. The Hand of Terror knew nothing of the ways of the Tribe, to think he would eat from those he had not slain with his own blade was nearly an insult. He growled in distemper, climbing atop the ostard and setting off into the cover of the trees as the first light of dawn broke the horizon.
     
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