Today’s snippet, titled “Make Them Pay”, is a piece I wrote about my PC in Mark’s Pathfinder Campaign.
      Be forewarned, there may be mature themes and naughty language below.
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      “You, uh, got a little, um…” Mira wet her lips, motioning to her shoulder as she spoke to Mytra. “Thing, there. Uh, sticking sort of… out. Ish.”
      Mytra glanced down and a frown clouded her face. She pushed golden hair over her shoulder, stained as it was with blood, and revealed one more wound. They had pulled half a dozen arrows, still smoking, from her body after she regained consciousness. This last one had buried itself to the fletching and somehow, escaped notice.
      “Let me,” Rhiallis said. One hand rested on Mytra’s neck, the other gripped the fractured arrow’s end. She pinched the nape of her neck hard, trying to distract from the pain of the arrow removal. Gasping, the priestess invoked Cernunnos’ name and the wound healing within seconds.
      “I am sorry about that.”
      Mytra shook her head. “No, thank you. And you, Mira. I do not know how I missed that one.”
      The halfling grinned briefly. For a moment, Rhiallis thought she had some witty comeback on the tip of her tongue, but instead, her eyes grew distant and her lips drew downward. She misses Kumiko too, Rhiallis thought, but I think it is Sera, who still weighs heaviest on her mind.
      Idril had been the first casualty. The assassin’s arrows had followed him from his homeland and felled him in the streets of Kenabres. They had lost his long-time traveling companion, Lucien, not long afterward. Then the massacre at the Grey Garrison – when only Mira and Kumiko had survived. Ema – beautiful, naive Ema – had fallen there. Seraphina, as well. So bright and intelligent and talented. Red, whom they had barely known. And big, grumpy, hairy Mickey Shambo – who had been a mighty ally and would have made a terrible enemy. Then sweet, tormented little Alisandra. Now both Jenson and Kumiko had fallen as well.
      The path to righteous victory was always going to be slick with blood. Rhiallis had known that long before her beloved, Commander Viggo Relane, gave his life fighting the demonic hordes.
      Who will be the next to fall? Rhiallis frowned, falling back into formation with Graves and Mira in front of her, Celeste at her right, and Mytra, Korael, and Koto behind. Who else will we lose? And why must you be so morbid anyway? There is so much life yet to celebrate. You didn’t used to be so bloody macabre.
      They moved efficiently through the dining hall, then southeast, up and around the tower to the ballistae. Though they met no resistance, it was obvious that whomever had been using the citadel had no respect for the former residents. Everything had been trashed – from ancient wall-hangings and furniture created at least a century before, to porcelain and pottery both utilitarian and decorative. Despite a constant string of such atrocities, demons destroying the history and culture of her people, Rhiallis doubted that she would ever be immune to seeing them. Her heart hurt, thinking of all that had been lost – the lives and the heritage.
      “I think this is the barracks,” Mira said, wetting her lips with a tiny pink tongue. “I think I heard movement. So, Graves, be ready.”
      “I was born ready, Mira.”
      Celeste chuckled softly, thumping her shield. “Here we go.”
      A quick incantation shrouded Rhiallis in protective energy and a heartbeat later, they were plunged into combat. Fast and furious, they swung blades and wielded magic and in a few moments, all of their foes were dead. Unfortunately, before Celeste had killed it with a brutal smiting strike, it had managed to touch several of their allies with a coruscating orb of shadow essense. Mira, Graves, and Korael ((I think? My notes were scribbled!)) had been paralyzed.
      The effects were temporary and soon they were mobile again. Rhiallis wanted to take the time to examine each for any lingering effects or permanent damage, but there was no time for that. The heart of the citadel waited for them, and in it, the worst denizens from the Abyss.
      “We need to rest – we’re no good if we’re exhausted.”
      “We’re no good if were taken unawares, either. They catch us with our pants down, sleeping, we’re fucked.”
      Korael nodded. “That’s true, Graves, but let’s be real for a minute. Mytra was nearly killed a few hours ago, and before that Jensen and Kumiko were killed. We’ve expended a lot of energy healing after each of these battles. We’re all eager to press on and cleanse this place – me more than most, for I know my beloved is here somewhere – but… Celeste is right. We do need to rest.”
      Graves nodded, her fist squeezing Radiance’s hilt tight for a long moment. Mira patted her mailed fist and pushed a lock of dark hair from her eyes. “Besides, who is gonna mess with us if we cross the bridge to the courtyard? We got two entire armies to keep watch.”
      At the mention of the Knights of Kenabres and the Silver Dragons, Graves acquired a distant, faint smile. Rhiallis was struck again by how beautiful and fierce her friend was and as she shifted her pack upon her shoulders, she nodded.
      “Let’s go, then,” Graves tossed her head. “Tomorrow, we’re gonna find the bitches hiding in the Citadel and make them pay.”​
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Note: Image is “King Jagiello Statue Central” by (Mulligand) from SXC.hu; edited by me