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[color=gray][sub][right][color=white][b]Location:[/b][/color] Uhladein, Eastern Marches
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There is a certain kind of beauty in disaster -- in watching a grand edifice come crumbling down to the earth, leaving only dust and ruination -- in the crackling of flames as they devour everything in their path -- in the creeping of darkness that swells and surges in the fire's wake -- in the momentary flash of striking lightning, and in the anticipation of the coming thunder. And with that beauty, there is a certain [i]clarity[/i] -- for when that blinding bolt lights up the sky, suddenly, even in the darkest of storms, even through the driving rain and howling wind, one can see as clear as day the true state of the world around her. There is quiet. Stillness. Peace. A single instant, frozen in time, the raindrops all hung suspended in the air like glassy beads of dew upon the strands of a spider's web. Then comes the thunder, and all is cacophony and madness once more.

Ah, the tempest -- the sweet, sweet tempest -- a symphony fit for devils, composed within the blackest pits of hell! How it roiled and sang, how the lightning flashed and the fire crackled and the rain chilled one to the very bone -- how the beasts roared and the people screamed and it all came crashing down. How little it mattered who lived and who died -- who fought and who fled -- who was good and who was evil! Yes, indeed, beneath that brilliant beam from the heavens, all were of equally little consequence -- mere pieces in a game played by gods and fools and understood by neither.

The stroke of a sword was much the same. The mounting tension, the blade upraised -- then descending in a flash to cleave whatever sorry fool happened to lie beneath it. That single moment of resistance -- of exhilarating [i]struggle[/i] -- and then suddenly all would give way, skin tearing, muscles rending, bones cracking, blood spilling, voice screaming -- was it her enemy or her who cried loudest? Meaningless. For the deafening thunder came, and the world's madness once again took hold. That beautiful instant was gone forever, and mere memory could never do it justice. Another! Another flash of lightning! Another brilliant light to provide meaning once more to this blasted wreck of mud and dust! Another masterful stroke, another foe to slay -- onward, stumbling over the fallen, the weight of her blade leading her ever onward, deeper and into the darkness that she might cut the very night itself apart! Higher, higher still -- there were yet mountains to be felled, were there not?! A brighter flash and a louder din, that she might once again taste the sweet nectar of victory -- that gorgeous moment when all was made silent once again.

Ah, how her body [i]writhed[/i] with hunger. How her throat [i]clenched[/i] with thirst! A dull, aching pain that spread from her core to her arm and from there to... what exactly? That unknown weight that pulsated and tugged at her unseen strings. What was it again? Ah, yes, her partner.

[color=#CB0B53]"...That... way?"[/color]

Another tug, more urgent, more insistent. Her muscles unraveled and coiled like a thousand serpents, the massive crimson [i]thing[/i] drawing her onward as she shambled desperately after it. She must have been fighting for quite some time, she supposed -- otherwise, she would never have felt so tired. It was strange, though. There had been others with her when she started, right? She had been ordered to protect something... Right, the ferry. The people... they needed to get to safety. Father was... No, Master Fray was counting on her. But then what were these beasts? Where did her comrades go?

[color=#CB0B53]"The flowers... Master...? Everyone is gone..."[/color]

...No, rather, they had all been gone since a long time ago. Once again, she'd been ordered to sacrifice herself to protect others. And once again, she and she alone had survived.

The haze of battle was fading, and a different kind of clarity began to take its place. The beat of her heart, and the heart of her partner, began to slow, clearing the adrenaline from her addled mind.

The southern front had already collapsed. She supposed that any survivors must have retreated to the keep -- to the hearth. Those towering, shambling forms she could see writhing over the walls, and the unearthly howls that carried even to the blasted, blood-soaked crater in which she alone stood among the mangled, half-chewed husks of her prey suggested that the strongest of her foes were now doing the same, hot on the heels of whatever allies she might have had left.

Then in that case, her -- no, [i]their[/i] course of action was obvious, wasn't it? Wherever Fianna the Bloody went, disaster would follow. And wherever disaster arose, Fianna the Bloody would cut it down. Those massive beasts, perhaps, could sate the hunger that [i]seethed[/i] within her bosom. Merely thinking of what she would feel as her blade sank into their tender flesh sent shivers down her spine.

And so, the pale maiden, still soaked in the blood of the slain, shouldered her vicious blade, and shambled towards the keep, all too eager to meet whatever cruel fate awaited her there -- for all she could see was the flashing lightning, all she could hear was the booming peal of thunder...

Yes, indeed, there is such beauty in disaster -- all the moreso for an inconsequential Hunter with nothing left to lose.