Post by Dollraema on Aug 19, 2014 5:39:18 GMT -6
((This is a thread for Dai & I to do a story on for Doll's disappearance. If you don't know, six months ago Doll left her Kin to go on a journey. The posts from the beginning of her journey can be found here. There will be graphic content in this thread, please be warned.))
Dollraema lurked in the darkness between ancient pines, peering into the moonlit clearing. A stone overhang sheltered most of the clearing from the light rain, but also proved to cast the depths of the overhang in darkness. Edging around the clearing as quiet as can be, Doll searched the shadows for movement or signs of disturbance. Satisfied no one was present, Dollraema entered her camp and cleared some brush away from the small wood pile she had. She'd been using the clearing for a week or so, having found it by chance one stormy afternoon. The clearing was miles from civilization, only a few random huts between her and the world. It was discrete and safe as any place to set up a decent camp to come back to.
Building a small fire in the shadows, Doll sat down on a stump, untying the rabbit carcass from her belt. She'd skinned & dressed it in the woods, leaving it's bloody entrails for the wolves. As her dinner roasted, Dollraema rummaged in a medicine pouch at her waist, pulling a journal out of the pouch. Opening to a fresh page, she tapped her chin thoughtfully before beginning to sketch...
------
"Oi, he's got a flask."
"What's in it?"
Sniffing. "Whiskey." Swig & cough.
"Hey, lookie here...."
"Is that....is that a woman?" Hearty chuckles.
"Sure is such a pretty lady....with pretty hair...."
------
She was in the tavern, sharing a bottle of whiskey with him. The tavern was full of raunchy loud mouths, but with him as her companion they dared not cross the line. She got up, heading to the bar for another bottle.
"....with pretty hair..."
A hand is suddenly on her. Not hand, hands. Many hands. Suddenly everyone in the tavern has their hands on her, too many too close too personal. A hand slips under her belt, rough fingers searching. Opening her mouth to scream, fingers hook in the edge of her mouth, holding her lips open.
"Such a purdy mouth..."
"Hurry up, pull 'em down!"
Dollraema came awake in a flurry of confusion and flying limbs. Hands were all over her, touching her, violating her. Hands wrapped around her braid, pulling her head. Hands tugging at her pants. Hands touching where they shouldn't. Hands on her chest, pinching her skin. One snatched her wrist as her fist went flying.
"She's awake! She's awake!" One man yelled before going soprano, a loose knee catching him in the manhood. In the moment of shock as his buddies paused, Dollraema snatched one of two blades from her inner thigh, slicing at the wrist of the hand down her pants as she drew up to slice the throat of the one now singing for her. Blood splattered, hot on her flesh where the men had succeeded in getting into her leather armor. The smell of blood crashed into Dollraema's mind and her brain shut down, the desire to live drumming through her like a primal beat.
The soprano fell away, dead. The man with a hand in her hair snapped her head back, slapping her across the face. "Behave!" He roared, it becoming clear to Doll who was the leader. The other man snatched at her knife hand. She let him catch it, halfway rolling with him to slip the knife from the small of her back. The Leader saw her though and caught her other hand behind her back. With one man's hand in her hair, one on each wrist, and another hand fondling her chest, the world suddenly got a lot smaller. Suddenly, the Leader jerked her arm, flipping her onto her stomach. Shoving his companion away, he leaned down on her, his breath hot in her ear.
"Listen here pretty miss. I'm gonna show you just what happens to little girl's who go adventuring on their own." He commanded the other to hold Doll's arms down, pinned above her head. Keeping one hand in her hair, shoving her face into the cool dirt, the Leader worked her leather down, exposing the flesh of her bottom to the moonlight. Panic rose, closing her throat. The reality of what was happening crashed into Doll and she screamed, screamed for all she was worth. Squirming, wriggling, bucking, she threw everything she had into trying to shake him. She kicked, her little dwarf legs unable to make contact very well.
The Leader laughed. The tinkle of his belt coming undone pierced through her screaming, turning her screams to roars. Throughly pissed off, refusing to allow this dirty, good for nothing man to soil her, Dollraema jerked her face to the side, making eye contact with the one holding her hands. The man went from leering at her, awaiting his turn after his boss finished, to looking absolutely terrified. What could scare a man so?
"You're last." She growled, jerking both hands towards her to fast for him to tighten his grip. Before he could snatch her hands back, she had both hands laced together and drove a double fist straight into his face, his nose crunching beneath her knuckles. Steaming blood splattered her and his Leader.
"Thanks for doing me a favor missy..." The Leader growled at her. The other fell away crying and yelling, obviously not used to being the one getting hurt. Doll felt hands at her bare hips and the Leader jerked her to her hands and knees, pressing himself against her bottom. Scrambling at the bloody mud, Dollraema tried to pull herself out from under him, but his firm hands wouldn't allow her to move.
He was too close, too personal, too far. The heat of his body was pressed hard to hers, the feel of how intimately pressed against her he was making her want to throw up.
My knives. My knives. My knives.
A mantra in her mind, her only hope for survival. A glimmer of silver in the moonlight and she saw a knife under the legs of the one with the shattered face. Throwing herself down to her stomach, a move the Leader didn't anticipate, her fingers reached for the blade. They closed on the handle just as he jerked her back to where he wanted.
"Enough games!" The Leader roared, grabbing her hips hard he snapped her bottom back against his hips. His hot, nastiness pressed against her most intimately and Dollraema acted immediately.
You see, here's the thing about dwarves. They're little. And the thing about dwarven women? They're more agile than they appear.
Dollraema used the force from him jerking her hips against his to tuck her body into as much of a ball as she could, which was easier now that in his lust the Leader had let go of her hair in favor of her tender hips. As she balled up, her knife hand swept behind her, making contact.
The Leader screamed. Not just screamed, his soul bled out...through his manhood. The knife had halfway severed what the Leader had been so eager to show Dollraeama. Whipping around, Dollraema finished her cut, shoving the flesh into his open mouth. Eyes bulging wide, the Leader choked and Dollraema looked him in the eyes as her blade lowered again.
"Such a purdy mouth..." She murmured to him, slicing open the femoral artery in his thigh. Spinning, sliding in the bloody mud, Dollraema looked over at his companion who was now white with bloodloss and fear. He was gibbering about his mummy, scooting away from her. Dollraema stood, bare from the waist down, the top to her leather armor shredded, covered in blood and mud.
"I told you you'd be last." She mocked, flicking the blade like a pendolumn. The man shook his head, pleading for his life. Doll heard none of it. One quick swipe and she silenced him permanently.
-------
Dollraema shuddered, suddenly very cold and alone. Starting a fire, she sat on the ground, the red mud cold against her bare bottom. Drawing her knees tightly to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them, putting her forehead on her knees. Her shoulders shook as her instincts fled, leaving her weak and terrified. Sobbing into her knees, her skin crawled with how close she'd come to being...Shaking her head hard, she looked up, watery eyed, into the flames. Her mind was scattered, her purpose in her mission a fog to her mind. What was she even doing out here? She should be at home with Rasmira, or in a tavern with Dai. Doll's heart broke with loneliness as her gaze swept slowly around the came. The corpses of the men were gruesome, the smell of death and vile sin corrupting the peaceful camp she had had. Looking back to the fire, Doll's mind tried to find something to hold on to, something to keep her anchored in the real world.
The flames flickered, slowly warming her flesh. The blood from her almost rapists was long dried, drying harder and cracking with the heat from the fire. The flames danced and twirled, a beacon of hope in the darkness that was currently Doll's world. Suddenly, the flames twisted, shaping themselves. Eyes widening, Doll watched silently as the flames slowly took a more solid shape...
It was the essence of war.
The calm within the storm of survival.
It was the wolf.
Dollraema lurked in the darkness between ancient pines, peering into the moonlit clearing. A stone overhang sheltered most of the clearing from the light rain, but also proved to cast the depths of the overhang in darkness. Edging around the clearing as quiet as can be, Doll searched the shadows for movement or signs of disturbance. Satisfied no one was present, Dollraema entered her camp and cleared some brush away from the small wood pile she had. She'd been using the clearing for a week or so, having found it by chance one stormy afternoon. The clearing was miles from civilization, only a few random huts between her and the world. It was discrete and safe as any place to set up a decent camp to come back to.
Building a small fire in the shadows, Doll sat down on a stump, untying the rabbit carcass from her belt. She'd skinned & dressed it in the woods, leaving it's bloody entrails for the wolves. As her dinner roasted, Dollraema rummaged in a medicine pouch at her waist, pulling a journal out of the pouch. Opening to a fresh page, she tapped her chin thoughtfully before beginning to sketch...
------
"Oi, he's got a flask."
"What's in it?"
Sniffing. "Whiskey." Swig & cough.
"Hey, lookie here...."
"Is that....is that a woman?" Hearty chuckles.
"Sure is such a pretty lady....with pretty hair...."
------
She was in the tavern, sharing a bottle of whiskey with him. The tavern was full of raunchy loud mouths, but with him as her companion they dared not cross the line. She got up, heading to the bar for another bottle.
"....with pretty hair..."
A hand is suddenly on her. Not hand, hands. Many hands. Suddenly everyone in the tavern has their hands on her, too many too close too personal. A hand slips under her belt, rough fingers searching. Opening her mouth to scream, fingers hook in the edge of her mouth, holding her lips open.
"Such a purdy mouth..."
"Hurry up, pull 'em down!"
Dollraema came awake in a flurry of confusion and flying limbs. Hands were all over her, touching her, violating her. Hands wrapped around her braid, pulling her head. Hands tugging at her pants. Hands touching where they shouldn't. Hands on her chest, pinching her skin. One snatched her wrist as her fist went flying.
"She's awake! She's awake!" One man yelled before going soprano, a loose knee catching him in the manhood. In the moment of shock as his buddies paused, Dollraema snatched one of two blades from her inner thigh, slicing at the wrist of the hand down her pants as she drew up to slice the throat of the one now singing for her. Blood splattered, hot on her flesh where the men had succeeded in getting into her leather armor. The smell of blood crashed into Dollraema's mind and her brain shut down, the desire to live drumming through her like a primal beat.
The soprano fell away, dead. The man with a hand in her hair snapped her head back, slapping her across the face. "Behave!" He roared, it becoming clear to Doll who was the leader. The other man snatched at her knife hand. She let him catch it, halfway rolling with him to slip the knife from the small of her back. The Leader saw her though and caught her other hand behind her back. With one man's hand in her hair, one on each wrist, and another hand fondling her chest, the world suddenly got a lot smaller. Suddenly, the Leader jerked her arm, flipping her onto her stomach. Shoving his companion away, he leaned down on her, his breath hot in her ear.
"Listen here pretty miss. I'm gonna show you just what happens to little girl's who go adventuring on their own." He commanded the other to hold Doll's arms down, pinned above her head. Keeping one hand in her hair, shoving her face into the cool dirt, the Leader worked her leather down, exposing the flesh of her bottom to the moonlight. Panic rose, closing her throat. The reality of what was happening crashed into Doll and she screamed, screamed for all she was worth. Squirming, wriggling, bucking, she threw everything she had into trying to shake him. She kicked, her little dwarf legs unable to make contact very well.
The Leader laughed. The tinkle of his belt coming undone pierced through her screaming, turning her screams to roars. Throughly pissed off, refusing to allow this dirty, good for nothing man to soil her, Dollraema jerked her face to the side, making eye contact with the one holding her hands. The man went from leering at her, awaiting his turn after his boss finished, to looking absolutely terrified. What could scare a man so?
"You're last." She growled, jerking both hands towards her to fast for him to tighten his grip. Before he could snatch her hands back, she had both hands laced together and drove a double fist straight into his face, his nose crunching beneath her knuckles. Steaming blood splattered her and his Leader.
"Thanks for doing me a favor missy..." The Leader growled at her. The other fell away crying and yelling, obviously not used to being the one getting hurt. Doll felt hands at her bare hips and the Leader jerked her to her hands and knees, pressing himself against her bottom. Scrambling at the bloody mud, Dollraema tried to pull herself out from under him, but his firm hands wouldn't allow her to move.
He was too close, too personal, too far. The heat of his body was pressed hard to hers, the feel of how intimately pressed against her he was making her want to throw up.
My knives. My knives. My knives.
A mantra in her mind, her only hope for survival. A glimmer of silver in the moonlight and she saw a knife under the legs of the one with the shattered face. Throwing herself down to her stomach, a move the Leader didn't anticipate, her fingers reached for the blade. They closed on the handle just as he jerked her back to where he wanted.
"Enough games!" The Leader roared, grabbing her hips hard he snapped her bottom back against his hips. His hot, nastiness pressed against her most intimately and Dollraema acted immediately.
You see, here's the thing about dwarves. They're little. And the thing about dwarven women? They're more agile than they appear.
Dollraema used the force from him jerking her hips against his to tuck her body into as much of a ball as she could, which was easier now that in his lust the Leader had let go of her hair in favor of her tender hips. As she balled up, her knife hand swept behind her, making contact.
The Leader screamed. Not just screamed, his soul bled out...through his manhood. The knife had halfway severed what the Leader had been so eager to show Dollraeama. Whipping around, Dollraema finished her cut, shoving the flesh into his open mouth. Eyes bulging wide, the Leader choked and Dollraema looked him in the eyes as her blade lowered again.
"Such a purdy mouth..." She murmured to him, slicing open the femoral artery in his thigh. Spinning, sliding in the bloody mud, Dollraema looked over at his companion who was now white with bloodloss and fear. He was gibbering about his mummy, scooting away from her. Dollraema stood, bare from the waist down, the top to her leather armor shredded, covered in blood and mud.
"I told you you'd be last." She mocked, flicking the blade like a pendolumn. The man shook his head, pleading for his life. Doll heard none of it. One quick swipe and she silenced him permanently.
-------
Dollraema shuddered, suddenly very cold and alone. Starting a fire, she sat on the ground, the red mud cold against her bare bottom. Drawing her knees tightly to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them, putting her forehead on her knees. Her shoulders shook as her instincts fled, leaving her weak and terrified. Sobbing into her knees, her skin crawled with how close she'd come to being...Shaking her head hard, she looked up, watery eyed, into the flames. Her mind was scattered, her purpose in her mission a fog to her mind. What was she even doing out here? She should be at home with Rasmira, or in a tavern with Dai. Doll's heart broke with loneliness as her gaze swept slowly around the came. The corpses of the men were gruesome, the smell of death and vile sin corrupting the peaceful camp she had had. Looking back to the fire, Doll's mind tried to find something to hold on to, something to keep her anchored in the real world.
The flames flickered, slowly warming her flesh. The blood from her almost rapists was long dried, drying harder and cracking with the heat from the fire. The flames danced and twirled, a beacon of hope in the darkness that was currently Doll's world. Suddenly, the flames twisted, shaping themselves. Eyes widening, Doll watched silently as the flames slowly took a more solid shape...
It was the essence of war.
The calm within the storm of survival.
It was the wolf.