An Exerpt From My Story Shadowcraven...
Fatare sat perched high above the altar, hidden among the branches of the Sacred Tree of their goddess. They had kidnapped a Child of Lycos, a young elvish girl no older that Fatare was, whith beautiful tanned skin and hair seemingly spun of gold. She was a high elf, one from the city of Tree Stars far away from the borders of the Direwood.
The girl was in a frenzy as the cult bound her to the altar. She screamed as they set the manicles around her wrists and ankles, manicles lined with the fine needle like teeth of serpants long dead. The tiny fangs tore into her flesh, and ravaged her skin as she struggled in her bonds, Fatare could smeel her blood rising from her flesh like sweat before any outward signs appeared.
Fatare numbed herself. The blood had enchanted her, made her yearn to feed upon the poor soul being tortured beneath her. The girl's screams aroused the fiend in Fatare, the fiend she had recently come to loathe. She numbed herself so that her hunger would not interfere, and she closed her eyes to keep their blazing silver irises from giving her away.
Lustrea Battleraven, Fatare's mother, let out a laugh as she probed beneath the girl's nails with hot needles. She delighted in the watching the girl writhe in torment, and scream out. Her voice echoed up only to be heard by the goddess Lys. Lustrea craddled the girl's head in a mocking manner and crooned to her, keeping her head still as one of the elders Scratched the girl's eyes with a fine instrument. A fine sheen of red slowly worked it's way into the girl's eyes, now stinging from the delicate wound. She could see, but all was thrown into a world of red, making her mind shrink as it took in the horrid sights around her.
Kellos drove his nails into her young flesh, causing torrents of her blood to spill across her belly. She gasped and went manic at the pain, at the laughing, at the hungry growls and the eyes burning red in her vision. She pleaded for death to take her if her gods would not come.
But that was the intention of her torturers....they wanted her to beg for death. It aroused them all the more, her young body a contradiction, tight in pain, and tense in exhaustion. Her awareness only made it more of an enjoyment to them, and her protestations and screams would issue up to the goddess like a true symphony of fiendish making. Hopefully it would please.
Kellos, the clan leader, picked up an instrument from the altar. It was a small morningstar with barbs and hooks. He teased the victim between her legs, causing her to squirm with new fear. She pressed her head back in Lustrea's lap and opened her eyes wide, crying and letting her dilluted blood tears roll down her cheeks. Kellos began raping the child with this sick toy, blood began to pool around the girl's thighs and hips. Her screaming reached a cressendo and the others laughed.
Fatare took this all in, she let the girl's screams tingle through her flesh, she inhaled the sweat and blood scenting the air, Her hands gripped the leather hilts of her twin swords and she readied herself. The lies would end, and her torment would subside. They had turned her into a killer, an Avatar of a false diety, a diety that didn't exist. They had manipulated her, and only recently she had come to understand the truth....now they would pay for their lies.
Fatare leapt down and landed gracefully on bended knee, almost straddling the girl. She withdrew her blades, made of the black metal of dead stars and designed to look like long black feathers, and in a precise motion she beheaded the two kinsmen flanking her. Five left, the leaders of the clans.
They gasped, and in a flash Lustrea, Fatare's mother, had tumbled back and out of reach of her daughter's weapons. Fatare tumbled sideways and landed on her feet, bending back all the way as one of the remaining leaders swept a sap through the air where her head should have been.
She brought her arms together and like a pair of shears she cut the man across his torso. The others fled into the darkness, running to rally thier families and allies. The girl on the altar screamed for help, but Fatare ignored her. It was her own fault. Her weakness put her there, like a lamb to be sacrificed. She would let the girl die on her own or be ravaged by the wild creatures of the dark forest.
Covered in the blood of her kinsmen Fatare stalked through the shadows a trainded and methodical killer of a degree none of her instructors could have ever fathomed. Yes, she was an Avatar, but she stood in no dieties' shadow. She had no one to comand her but her own lust and vindictiveness.
She would destroy her entire web. All seven clans would be exterminated, and she would gorge herself on their blood....
