Loc Muinne – Destruction Abounds

Soot covered the ground before her and ashes danced in the ether around her. A clear reminder that rape and pillaging in the name of power and greed were still very much alive. The massacre of Loc Muinne was but a nightmare whispered in the alcoves of fancy castles and quaint homes, but for her and the few that remained of the lodge, it was a damning reality. Red hot fire burned through her veins as ageless hazel eyes moved about the wreckage, her heart beating faintly as the air became increasing difficult to taste. 

The Kings of the North had made their demands of the Sisterhood, their male counterparts lacking in support and show, but what else was to be expected from a dying breed of traditionalists? When fate had her way, the world of normalcy turned into disarray and crimson colored the streets and stone structures of Loc Muinne. Arcane magic gave no hold over the forces of men that seemingly never stopped marching forward. How any of them lived to see another day was beyond her capacity to reason. 

Kiera awoke from the event a little less than a day subsequent to the initial attack, the silence in the air almost defeating. Searching for survivors amongst the destruction was gruesome and without success until Kiera sound Sera, the younger woman sustaining a few minor injuries, but namely suffering the injustice done them and aching for revenge as Kiera herself was. The stories that bled from the loss of Loc Muinne and the disbanding of the Lodge of Sorceresses would befall their names as would the evil that had slipped into the beds of the Northern Kingdoms. 

A wicked smile lifted her lovely pale lips as she knelt before a small lake just outside the small village, her long blue dress torn and covered in dark blotches of blood mixed the essence of dead magic. Her face came into focus in the soft rippling water below her, the wind dying down and allowing her a moment to stare into the eyes of a soon to be murderer. Short blonde hair buried deep the lack of innocence that would now define the remainder of her days, the names of her fallen sisters burned into the flesh of her heart and crying for vengeance in the recess of her thoughts. 

“I do pray with all that I that I might have the opportunity to use these hands,” she lifted them before her, small droplets of water rolling down her fingers and discoloring as they sought to cleanse her.

“That I might use voice,” a soft tune rolled from her tongue and moved about the air in effort to pull and tug and the heart strings of anyone nearby.

“And this face,” she lifted her cheeks carefully into a sweet, loving smile that matched not the echoed promised of death in her cold eyes.

“And this body,” her fingers carefully pulled down the beautiful contours of her cheeks, sliding over her narrow throat and down her well-defined collar bone, grasping at her breasts before outlining her thin waist and full hips, as laugh as wicked as hell itself rolled across her flesh.

“To murder unceasingly those that have taken life from you, my kind. To this I give my pledge.” She laughed again and stood slowly. The winds of change were amiss that day and with the assistance of someone strong and filled with hatred, the kings of the North would taste her lust only to swallow their death unbeknownst. 

“We will go to Vergen, Sera,” she called over her shoulders and the sun moved toward its watching place high in the noon-day sky. “I hear there is a woman of rare descent there and that she might be the key to our reckoning. What say you, sister?”