Wishful Stray — Roleplayer Guild

Ratha

The murky red confines of the young blonde’s lungs clawed its way up her throat, the unused organs revolting against their rebirth and the intrusion of liquid into their domain. A quick blur saw a pale and slender hand shoot out to push herself up out of the small pool she found herself laying in; her aching fingers made contact with something cold and leathery, her brow furrowed as she moved her hand over the foreign object. It moved under her touch, stiff and lifeless as she followed it up into a small divot, smooth and hollow as if something had once occupied it. The use of muscles long atrophied sent pins and needles dancing up her arm as the groggy woman tried to pull her mind away for the swirling memories dancing behind her eyes; they teased her and called for her, she knew that they were important but couldn’t remember much else, not her name, her lineage, her birthplace, anything. A groan escaped her lips as the echoing of voices chimed cheerfully in her ear.   Someone was rattling on, words, places, some she recognized others had no meaning to her, but they seemed to know their names…what was her name….her teeth mashed against her lower lip in frustration as she laid there hunched over desperately clawing through her rugged mind for her name.

’Why does a dead woman need a name?

The thought tore through her, her other hand caressing the armor bound against her a small crack ran through it expanding outwards from the left side…but something was missing….wasn’t there an arrow there before….green eyes peered downward focusing on the empty space, the bright gold fletched arrow was gone, the only proof of it was the hole in her chest plate. Its worn green livery flickered a scene in her mind’s eye, the warmth of the summer sun and the subtle wind of the forest surrounded her briefly before replaced once again by the cold dark dampness she now found herself in. This was wrong, she had been on patrol…hunting a trespasser….how did she get here…The harsh stone and brackish water were clear indicators that she was no longer in the forest, and that the fields of Irisia were long gone.

Irisia? Is that where she was from, the thought seemed right to her, at least she hand answered one question, her eyes traveled away from the armor, down to see what her other hand rested on.

An eyeless face stared back up at her, a barbaric grin plastered across its face, frozen by time, unwilling to focus on it her eyes shifted around her finding more and more corpses littering the ground around her. It seemed that the answer to where she was would be among the dead, the clarity of the thought was lost as her wavering and fraying emotions took over; her body took over doubling her over once again as low retched coughs tore through her, unfortunately the entire content of her stomach was nothing but cold acid that tore at her already sore throat. Several seconds passed like hour as she continued to dry heave against the unmoving ground, a small whimper escaping her lips. What god had she pissed off that would bring her back in such a desolate place, a hand reaching up to cover her mouth eyes brimming with hot tears threatening to mix with the bile of pile soaking into her right hand.

Perhaps this is Hell.

Another clear and cold thought cut through the food in her mind, one she gladly latched on to, perhaps she hadn’t been a good Ranger, was that right….in her past life so know she had to atone for it. Revived alone amongst the dead; a soft light shimmered on the water drawing her attention upwards grateful for any reprieve against the darkness seeping into her mind. Another whimper hung in the air as she scrambled backwards landing ungracefully on her haunches with a loud splash into another puddle, a strange spear refracting in its grips unnoticed as her eyes stayed transfixed on the pulsing sack hanging far above her head.

”This….T-This has to be Hell…I’ve been damned..”

A harsh grating sound rumbled in her chest as she spoke, the words were forced and sharp, her voice cracking with each syllable, the soft melody it used to carry long gone.  Unable to tear her eyes away from the strange creature, if it was even a creature she didn’t hear the words being spoken by the others until the clattering of people moving caught her attention. Just because there where others didn’t mean it was safe, maybe it was someone sent to test her, or to kill her again. Her hands flailed out around her searching for a weapon, a shield, anything that would aid in her survival. Why she needed to survive she didn’t know, but the thought was clear and set into her head. Her left hand curled around the wooden handle, drawing it closer and out of the waters depth. The wood was warm in her cold touch, the pronged blade catching the lowlight sending small reflections of it dancing around the blonde. Her hands naturally found the worn hand holds and settled there using it deftly to brace herself against slowly rising once more to her feet. A quick succession of hand motions sent the trident spinning lazily through the air making small circles around her, the pull and strain on muscles long since used was a welcomed feeling. It felt right, a small nagging sensation whispered that this was hers, not a weapon callously thrown away, this was something she had worked for and had honed her skills on.

A soft smile graced her cracked lips, she was Ratha, and she was the only Ranger dumb enough to use a spear.

Craddling the weapon close to her chest, she sighed breathing in the putrid air deeply before steeling herself. It would be better to announce herself than wait and be discovered perhaps that way she might have the advantage of surprise if it came down to a fight for her life.

”Hello? Is anyone there?”
Wishful Stray Member

Maybe I'll Stay Here.

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