Recent content by Emelia Atchins

Her lips compressed into a thin line. She said nothing to his statement. Of course. Instead, her eyes tracked him. She noted the bunching of muscles in advance of his attack. She knew that she could not let the man get his hands on her unless she wanted to be borne to the ground and pummeled...

She said nothing to his demand. Of course. Instead, she acted. The innkeeper's daughter was smaller and weaker than Daelin, untrained by comparison. It was a patently uneven match and both of them knew it. She would be damned if she let that stop her from putting up the wildest fight that the...

She might not be a trained fighter, but Emelia wasn't a naive fool either. She had watched Marta with cold eyes and watched Daelin with equal absence of emotion. And readiness. She had been caught unawares once, too confident by half and more. She shook her head at his assertion; of course, she...

She regarded Thurbin's death with the same cold, emotionless regard that his employees had for them when they had been tossed into that cell. Anger swirled within her but it was not necessarily directed at the hapless victimizer lying in a spreading pool of his own blood. The entire system was...

She looked back at the old man and then back to Marta with a shrug. Short of cutting his head off she did not see how he could be more consigned to death than a knife through the heart. Thurbin was just a tough old bastard that wasn't ready to embrace death yet. But Emelia still stepped aside...

Her eyes sharpened at the Priestess' words. Frustration gleamed in her eyes, that and a world-shredding anger born partly of her inability to articulate what she wanted to and partly by the lack of understanding - to her mind, at least. Then what of the evil that festers, unheeded? She spoke...

She started at her name, blade in suddenly immobile hand. The bastard made pained sounds on the ground before her. Almost pitiful, after a fashion: all the power that wealth had brought him availed him not one whit here. Indignation and outrage directed to his supposed lesser had bought him no...

Simple words shouldn't have been enough to break her free from this particular nightmare. And yet. Marta's quiet words stilled her blade in his quivering flesh. She turned to look at the priestess with eyes that still burned with something ugly in them. After a moment to think, she pointed the...

Cold eyes. Thurbin wasn't going to go anywhere and she was content with that. Unlike Marta, she had no concern for haste. This was not the first subversive element of the city laid low by her hand and she had a feeling that it wouldn't be the last, either. She said nothing to his vitriol. Of...

The back of her head throbbed where she had hit the floor. A vein in her neck did too, pulsing in time with the frenetic beating of her heart. Marta's voice was in a different time and place from the one she herself occupied, and likely she would have become quite angry at the release she...

Her foot throbbed where she had struck the man who now writhed on the floor in unimaginable agony. Emelia looked at him as she might a worm, something lowly and disgusting and worth her scorn. Her remarkable eyes remained fixed on him where he lay, a pool of blood slowly spreading and the fecal...

Madness danced in her eyes, sang its discordant song in the back of her head. It was impossible to reconcile the gentle waitress with the woman who could command another to kill indiscriminately. With the woman who wanted to see bright pain and fear bloom in the eyes of her victims. As if that...

Pale eyes regarded the men that entered the cell with hostility. They tracked each of the men as they entered, muscle-bound and quiet. The third man through the door made her consider, for a moment, a course of action. She knew a hired sword when she saw one - sometimes the merchants that...

The character of what ran through Emelia's head couldn't have been further from that which steeled the soul of the priestess. She found the time left in captivity to be maddening in its own unique way. Usually, she could while the hours away working on the nearly ceaseless tasks of mundane...

She nodded slowly. Of course she would keep the flame of spite alive. She didn't have anything else to hold to, after all. Her husband was dead, and her only child years longer in the grave than even the abuser that had beat the both of them every night. Evil fears nothing, she mouthed as she...