Matier
Dec 10th, 2009, 11:34:45 PM
The bloodstained earth quaked beneath a clawed onslaught, trees snapped and crashed throughout the vast forest surrounding the settlement of Aurilia. The malevolent entities dwelling within the village were on edge; the kind of thrilling, frightening edge that always ensconced their kind when war was close at hand. Rather than commencing in their habitual duties, the Nightsisters of Aurilia had gathered at the center of the township; facing west, where a bestial clamor roared down from the Red Mountains and Hills. There wasn’t a single warrior without a weapon close at hand; however, they remained as calm as demented foes could be. This was, of course, partially because their indomitable Clan Mother wore a placid expression that denoted clearly that they had little to worry about from this swiftly approaching force.
Matier’s daughter wore a very similar expression, having divined this particular event several moons before its arrival. The pierced, disheveled woman allowed a brief, maniacal smile to twist her ring adorned lips; a moment or so later, the insect strewn mounts of the Spiderclan crashed their way into the fire scented township. It was easy to discern their origins from the arachnid tattoos seared into their pale flesh that was never kissed by the light of the sun, the macabre young creatures skittering about their heavily armored frames. These women were not allies of the Burning Mist; however, they were of a like mind and that was always refreshing.
They came to a halt within the smoke strewn town square, accessing the reaches of Aurilia with wary, bloodshot eyes. The Clan Mother assessed the rider that headed up the front of their numbers, taking in the twin scimitars, the spider tattoo splayed across her face, and the heavily weighted satchel that dangled at her side. All things that Megeara had spoken of. Matier stepped out from beneath the leathery flap suspended over her personal domicile, the dancing fires arranged around the village lighting up her face and crimson hued hair. The leader of the Spiderclan seemed to instantly recognize her cruel visage, no doubt having heard grisly tales whispered by the neighboring clans near the one’s she had already conquered.
“Dos zhaun ele udos inbal doer. Dos z’klaen xxizz udossa xunsin mina rath.” The spider marked woman said in a, fortunately for her, respectful tone. She began descending from her mount, which bowed low and offered its arm for her to step on. Matier drew closer to her, the long animal furs wrapped about her body dragging lightly against the ground. Only true desperation would lead a proud clan to ask for assistance on the field of battle. The Red Mountain and Hill clans would be easy enough to crush, she had only been looking for a proper excuse; a sizable bribe was one. The opportunity to consume not only two witch villages but the once insurmountable Spiderclan was another.
“Bring them inside.” Matier announced clearly, gesturing toward the seasoned warriors the leader had brought along. A display of power? Or was it a certain measure of protection against Aurilia’s considerable force? Either way, the Clan Mother’s distorted smile was back in place. She motioned for her own collection of fine combatants to follow her back into the recesses of her decadent abode; it looked more like a war room than a bed chamber. Matier took her place at the farthest spot of the rectangular table, slipping down against the furs and silken pillows that littered the floor. There was a spot to her immediate left and one to her right, reserved solely for her daughter and her newest addiction; one, Revan Luciano.
She waited patiently as many women began to file into the spacious room. When all was settled, she’d have her daughter relay to them what she divined from the bones.
Matier’s daughter wore a very similar expression, having divined this particular event several moons before its arrival. The pierced, disheveled woman allowed a brief, maniacal smile to twist her ring adorned lips; a moment or so later, the insect strewn mounts of the Spiderclan crashed their way into the fire scented township. It was easy to discern their origins from the arachnid tattoos seared into their pale flesh that was never kissed by the light of the sun, the macabre young creatures skittering about their heavily armored frames. These women were not allies of the Burning Mist; however, they were of a like mind and that was always refreshing.
They came to a halt within the smoke strewn town square, accessing the reaches of Aurilia with wary, bloodshot eyes. The Clan Mother assessed the rider that headed up the front of their numbers, taking in the twin scimitars, the spider tattoo splayed across her face, and the heavily weighted satchel that dangled at her side. All things that Megeara had spoken of. Matier stepped out from beneath the leathery flap suspended over her personal domicile, the dancing fires arranged around the village lighting up her face and crimson hued hair. The leader of the Spiderclan seemed to instantly recognize her cruel visage, no doubt having heard grisly tales whispered by the neighboring clans near the one’s she had already conquered.
“Dos zhaun ele udos inbal doer. Dos z’klaen xxizz udossa xunsin mina rath.” The spider marked woman said in a, fortunately for her, respectful tone. She began descending from her mount, which bowed low and offered its arm for her to step on. Matier drew closer to her, the long animal furs wrapped about her body dragging lightly against the ground. Only true desperation would lead a proud clan to ask for assistance on the field of battle. The Red Mountain and Hill clans would be easy enough to crush, she had only been looking for a proper excuse; a sizable bribe was one. The opportunity to consume not only two witch villages but the once insurmountable Spiderclan was another.
“Bring them inside.” Matier announced clearly, gesturing toward the seasoned warriors the leader had brought along. A display of power? Or was it a certain measure of protection against Aurilia’s considerable force? Either way, the Clan Mother’s distorted smile was back in place. She motioned for her own collection of fine combatants to follow her back into the recesses of her decadent abode; it looked more like a war room than a bed chamber. Matier took her place at the farthest spot of the rectangular table, slipping down against the furs and silken pillows that littered the floor. There was a spot to her immediate left and one to her right, reserved solely for her daughter and her newest addiction; one, Revan Luciano.
She waited patiently as many women began to file into the spacious room. When all was settled, she’d have her daughter relay to them what she divined from the bones.