Today’s snippet, titled “An Alien Beauty”, is a piece I wrote about my PC in Mark’s new (Good) Pathfinder Campaign.
      Be forewarned, there are mature themes and naughty language below.
– – – – – – – – – – –
      Seraphina’s instinct was correct.
      Just past the end of the street, a rift opened in the very air above them. Rhiallis stood, frozen in horror, and watched a bizzare scene unfolding.
      Within the portal was another world. It was an opulently appointed bed chamber filled with exotic curios and furniture of a design unlike anything Rhiallis had ever seen. The finest shimmering silks gleamed in the flickering lamplight which illuminated a man. For an instant, she thought he was ancient, for the primary feature she noticed was his long silver-white hair. Then her eyes searched his face – he was handsome, with liquid brown-black and long-lidded eyes which bore a distinctive cant.
      In the space of a heartbeat, Rhiallis’ gaze was drawn to the man’s foe – a great shadowy creature with skin that fairly writhed in evil. Her stomach roiled, watching it as they argued silently. Or perhaps it was less an argument but a command and defiance. The creature reached out and it grabbed something. Rhiallis could not see what lay beyond the rim of the rift. His muscles bulged obscenely and the great mouth opened as if howling.
      Suddenly, it flung the object through the portal, its face grimacing in a roar that Rhiallis was glad she could not hear. The handsome white-haired man in the bedroom reached out futilely toward the portal but even as he screamed, the rent sealed itself with a strange crackle of energy.
      Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
      Her heart pulsed in her chest and she took a single step forward, drawing Radiance from its sheath. She concentrated her gaze upon the heap that had come through to their world, focusing Iomedae’s discerning eye upon it.
      “I detect no evil,” she said, cautiously stepping forward again.
      Her friends nodded their acknowledgement, almost in unison.
      The fallen object sat up.
      She – for Rhiallis was fairly certain it was a woman of average human proportions, despite the alien armor she was arrayed in – sat up, groping for the long, narrow blade she had dropped. The demon-faced helm at her hip was disturbing, but as she stood, turning to face the party, Rhiallis was far more concerned to see that she was bathed in blood and gore.
      There was a weapon in her hand, though it was not held out offensively, and Rhiallis felt obliged to point Radiance at the woman in turn. She tried to sound confident as she called out.
      “Who are you? Are you friend or foe?”
      Her face – exotic like the white-haired man, with the same distinctive eyes – drew into a frown and for an instant, Rhiallis wondered if she had understood. A moment later, she shook her head ever so slightly.
      “Where is this? Where am I?”
      “Kenabres, a city in Mendev – on the cusp of the Worldwound,” Lucien offered, an arrow nocked, though it remained pointed at the ground.
      “What is- I do not-”
      Her confusion was palpable, and understandable given that she had only a minute before been thrown violently through a portal from the Gods-only-know-where. Rhiallis was surprised that she spoke the common tongue so clearly, for everything about her was utterly alien to her experience. The accent though, was thick and unusual – as she spoke, the cadence was so even and rhythmic that you could almost ignore the strange way certain sounds were swallowed or slurred.
      “I am Rhiallis. This is Kenabres and you are not safe here alone. The city is over-run by demons. Do you know,” she sheathed her blade, holding fingers up near her forehead to simulate horns as she pulled a grimace. “Demons?”
      The woman nodded. “Oni, yes, demons.”
      She repeated herself, tapping her chest with only the vaguest worry that perhaps she was being patronizing. “Rhiallis. My name is Rhi-ah-lis.”
      With a slight smile, as if she had read Rhiallis’ mind and was disarming the worry, she sheathed her own blade – a magnificent thing indeed – and tapped her own chest. “Kumiko Snowblood.”
      Rhiallis breathed a sigh of relief.
      “Well met,” she said, and meant it.

– – – – – – – – – – –

Note: Image is “King Jagiello Statue Central” by (Mulligand) from SXC.hu; edited by me