[ Post a Response | Scarlet's Amazon & Poser Board ]
Posted by Rudrah on October 30, 2008, 7:33:22
I want to add a taste of literature...
a classic...
The Island by Motif
Part 1 - Invasion
Lydia Jane Wickham was undoubtedly the most deeply unpopular person on the entire island, and with good reason.
Of course, it didn't help that she was part of the invasion force which score of years ago had conquored the small nation; decisively beating the orginal inhabitant's ill-equiped army in a single battle. That alone was enough to make her roundly despised by the defeated natives. But even her fellow conquorers shunned Lydia and, although her family was very powerful and influencial back home, few of her own people wanted anything to do with her.
For Lydia, what made life on the tiny tropical island tolerable, what kept her there despite the low regard in which she was held by native and invader alike, was the very thing that made everyone on the island avoid her like the plague. Lydia lived and throve on the reaction her reputation inspired in everyone who heard it, and she greatly enjoyed seeing that reaction on the faces of the people she met.
In short, Lydia Jane Wickham lived on fear.
Striding purposefully down the dusty street that ran through the center of Coromita, the island's only town of any significant size, Lydia reflected on the moment when she fully realized that what most mattered to her was the fear she inspired in other people.
-------------------
The beach they'd landed on was a deserted length of sand baking under a hot tropical sun that Lydia would soon become accustomed to, and even enjoy in the years to come. The young officer had felt the natives eyes watching her from the tree line fifty yards back from the shore as she formed her unit into ranks for the march into the interior. But it wasn't until they actually began their struggling advance through the lush, steaming forest that the invaders met any sort of significant resistance.
After half an hour of tramping through the forest, a pair of soldiers hacking and cursing at the undergrowth as they cut a path before her collumn, an arrow sped from surrounding trees to strike one of the brush cutters squarely in the chest. Even before the stricken soldier had fallen dead an answering volly of panicy musket fire from the collumn echoed through the tall trees.
After that incident, Lydia kept her soldiers alert and in close order, so when another arrow buried itself the great bole of a tree near a brush cutter's head, their next volley brought the shrieking, half naked form of their ambusher plummeting from her high perch to the forest floor. A half dozen times her soldier's shot sniping natives out of the trees around them, but it was the last encounter with one of these lone ambushers that affected the young officer so strongly.
An arrow peirced a brush cutter's forearm and as a howl of pain rose from her throat, a dozen muskets behind her pointed at the spot the arrow had come from and roared. The ambushing warrior plunged from a tree some twenty yards ahead, her high pitched, spiraling scream abruptly ending as her body thudded into the forest floor. Lydia advanced on the spot where the sniper had fallen, her rapier clutched in one sweaty hand, and the undergrowth parted to reveal the writhing form of a half-naked young woman lying broken on the ground, mortaly wounded but somehow still alive.
The dying native warrior was slender, her soft, dusky brown skin gleaming slickly with perspiration and blood beneath the oppressively hot sun. One hand clawed weakly at her petite body while her other arm lay twitching on the ground, bloody wounds on it's upper arm and elbow. Her only attire was a bright length of multicolored cloth wound around her tiny waist, barely wide enough to cover her slim hips and sex. Above a short jaggedly cut mop of corse black hair, her narrow, triangular face shone with surprise and agony, her sharp features twisting into a desperate snarl as she stared hatefully up at the tall, brown uniformed woman standing above her.
Lydia's own usually impasive expression changed as she looked down at the dying sniper. She stared with growing interest at the native woman's wounded body, bright crimson blood pumping from a large bullet hole just below her small breasts, trickling down her shining brown skin to pool on the flat concave expanse of her belly. The young warrior's chest heaved jaggedly as her breath rasped painfully in and out of her lungs while her slender, smoothly muscled legs kicked feebily against the forest floor. Lydia's own breathing grew shallower, a flush slowly creeping over her skin as she looked down at the woman dying at her feet.
Slowly, as if her hand had a mind of it's own, the young officer brought her sword around until it's sharp point rested lightly on the dying woman's throat. The young native's sharply tilted eyes grew wide with fear as she looked up the shining length of steel at the strange blonde woman standing over her and saw Lydia's pale blue-green eyes growing brighter and brighter with savage blood lust. Inwardly, Lydia reveled in the warm, sensuous feeling of power thrumming through her. The forest's hot, damp air that made her uniform stick to her skin seemed to intensify the tingling electric sensastion suffusing her entire body. For a long moment the young officer drank in the sight of the native woman's terrified face until she felt something deep within her snap and with a small flick of her wrist, slashed the dying woman's throat.
Blood gouted from the woman's throat and her pretty, narrow face shone with horror as she briefly intensified her writhing. Above her, Lydia gasped in surprise as jolts of pure pleasure shot through her slender frame, making her tremble with an ecstasy stronger and more deeply felt than anything she'd ever experienced in her young life. After a long moment, Lydia noticed the native warrior was dead and a small sigh of regret escaped her flushed thin lips.
As she strode back to her waiting soldiers, and then all through the rest of the march, Lydia marveled at the earth-shakingly intense feelings she'd experienced while watching the young warrior die at her feet.
--------------------
After the revelation of that first encounter, the battle later that day seemed anticlimatic to the shaken young officer.
The invaders filed out of the jungle into the broad open fields surrounding the town that was their target to find a much larger group of native warriors awaiting them. They were massed on the far side of the clearing before the town, grouped into various sized units by clan in no particular order. They were clad much as the other native warrior's they'd seen, although some wore a longer, sarong like affair. A long, leather shield stretched over a wicker frame was on each warrior's arm and long spears seemed to be their weapon of choice, although some held either shorter throwing spears or the occassional bow.
Message Thread:
« Back to thread