Thread: Portal - The Inquisition of Eastborne

Kestrel stared vacantly at the guard shouting orders in front of her. Spit flew from a dark moustached lip, a look of carefully controlled stoicism contorting his weathered face as he commanded his men to careen towards their inevitable death. His words were unheard though, with Kestrels focus consumed wholly by the pulse thundering in her ears, and it took the sounds of a nearby roof caving in to pull her out of her momentary reverie. Empire soldiers were pouring through the streets like bloated vermin. Some were clad in full plate, steadily lumbering through the sea of bodies that were beginning to pile up. Others were less encumbered, though no less dangerous as they sprinted through the scuffle, blades twirling in a macabre dance, carving bloody swathes through the clamour. Well this was a fuckin stupid idea Kestrel declared to no one in particular. She ran her hand through greasy hair and glanced around the battlefield. To the left she spotted a small group of overwhelmed guards barely staving off the unrelenting onslaught and with quick flourish of her falchion and a wink in the direction of a guard that had been stealing glances at her for the past few moments, Kestrel dove head-first into the fray. Wary of her unarmoured form, Kestrel kept to the edges of the skirmish, dodging and weaving just out of reach. She sent her blade singing through the air in carefully controlled arcs. Her body burnt with the liquid fire coursing through her veins, and the world narrowed around her, such that she only barely registered the rust-skinned behemoth barrelling past her periphery. The sounds of metal crashing together filled her ears as she settled into a rhythm, focussed only on the deft movements of her sword-arm. Each twist of the falchion cleaved more flesh. Spilling more blood. Kestrel could smell the coppery tang heavy in the air, could almost taste it, eliciting a barely suppressed growl as she threw herself towards an injured soldier propped up against a ruined wall. His long brown hair was falling out of its braid, obscuring the bloody mess that was his face. Kestrel took a moment to study the man. His head was bowed slightly, lips moving in what Kestrel could only surmise was a silent prayer to their sole God. Wearily, he tilted his head up a fraction to lock eyes and everything seemed to slow as recognition blossomed on his face. Kestrel felt a gob of bloodstained spit land on her cheek. For the glory of the Empire, demon scum. The guard snarled through gritted teeth as a hand slid down to his side. Kestrel sighed and jammed her falchion through the ribs of the soldier. A dagger clattered to the ground. For the glory of the Empire indeed. Kestrel turned back towards the scrum, only taking a few steps before she felt the solid impact of a leather boot in the back, sending her skidding along the cobblestones below. The pain from the friction was distant though, as she rolled to deflect an incoming blade with her own. Metal ricocheted off metal as Kestrel narrowly avoided impalement and instead received a deep gash in her left arm. Growling, she kicked out at the soldiers knee, connecting with a satisfying crunch as it bent back further than it probably should. A blood curdling howl assaulted her ears as the thug hobbled away quickly into a nearby house, giving her time to pull herself to her feet. Dazed, she turned towards the house and began pursuit. The building was all but ruins. Light filtered through siege-punched holes in the walls. The wooden frame of the house stood like the rib cage of some large beast slain in times long past. In some places the timbers glowed, embers scattered across the dark surface like stars in a pitch sky. Kestrel tapped her sword against the wood, each strike sending a spray of sparks into the smoke-laden air as she paced further into the building. Im putting in all this effort to stay alive, but you know, if all Empire fuckers are as ugly as you are, Id rather neck myself anyway. Stuff seeing that evry day Kestrel called out to the seemingly abandoned room, bloodstained lips quirking to reveal a fanged smirk, 6 feet o dirts more attractive than your ugly mug, mate. A thin layer of ash coated the old timbers underfoot, shifting with each step. A set of smudged tracks lead up ramshackle stairs. Come on out, Ill make it quick, sailors promise, Kestrel used in a sing-song voice. Somewhere upstairs there was the sound of shifting, like a drawer being opened. Kestrel inched slowly up the stairs, their decrepit timbers noisily protesting the weight being placed on them. Come on, I dont want to spend my last moments verbally jerking off some limp-dicked bilge-rat, get your hands out your pants so I can cut them off, Kestrel growled at the empty air. She was just cresting the top of the stairs when she felt something encircle her throat. The wire bit into her flesh as she was wrenched backwards along the rough floorboards, feet scrambling to keep purchase. Blood that was too dark began to flow from a narrow wound as the ligature threatened to slice the vital arteries lying beneath. Hot breath caressed her ear in grunts and heavy pants while she struggled to take a breath. Her hands reached up and clutched at her throat, trying unsuccessfully to loosen the garrote in any way possible. As Kestrel began to feel the edges of her vision darken, she braced herself. Knees bent slightly, she launched backwards, head arching as she threw her body with as much force as she could muster against her captor. She felt the garrote tighten and feared her head would come clean off, but instead the momentum sent their bodies slamming into the wall behind. A scream of pure agony tore from the soldiers lips as Kestrel felt her horns gore tender flesh, the impact sending waves of pain reverberating throughout her skull and momentarily stunning her. The grip around her throat loosened and she heard a body crumple to the floor behind her. Kestrel turned, gasping for air, barely conscious, and stared at the bloodied form beneath her, sending a final kick to his ribs to ensure he stayed down. Slowly, she knelt beside him. A slender hand reached out and grasped his stubble covered chin roughly and forced his eyes up to hers, making sure he could see the sharp point of her fangs and the graceful curve of her horns. She growled, a low, deep, rage-filled rumbling in the back of her throat, and smiled as she watched him flinch, fear twisting his face. Slowly, she unsheathed a knife from the leather belts around her waist. She played with the familiar leather-bound hilt for a moment, smooth in her hands, before sliding the keen edge across soft flesh, watching as crimson rivulets spilt over cool metal. As Kestrel stood up, the world seemed to bloom around her again, the room she was in expanding and the sounds of battle returning to greet her ears with their dissonant cries. Kestrel rubbed the ragged gash on her neck, wincing, bound to be yet another scar to add to the collection, and not a pretty one at that. Her chest felt tight as she took another shuddering breath in, the smoke burnt her lungs but she didnt care. Every muscle in her body ached. Bile was rising in her throat. She just wanted this all to be over. Last edited Feb 20, 2019