You will see the many faces of Death

Welcome. Enemies of Aslan may find their minions here. Friends of Aslan may find their death.

[inflammableprince-blog]

Guarded Intentions || Lucy and Rabadash

[inflammableprince-blog]

His smile matched her politeness. “Ah, but I do believe they are playing a waltz, which is assuredly Northern,” he commented evenly with the faintest sardonic edge as the song began. It was perfectly timed, for Rabadash had only made an effort to learn the waltz, believing that he would appear at his most regal and dignified during this dance. He placed a hand behind Queen Lucy’s left shoulder blade and slanted his eye along her bared arm. She had grown bolder in her choice of outfit, but then again she had grown older.

“How do you fare? I trust the voyage to the Seven Isles was without incident?” He stepped to the side and back in time to the music, concentrating on the move before continuing, “Recent events in Narnia”—here he alluded to the recent war with the Ice Witch—”must have taxed Your Majesty’s gentle heart.”

[unrelentinglioness-archive]

She nodded and smiled. “Of course,” she said simply and placed both her hands on Rabadash’s nape, but that caused her to feel very uncomfortable, as if she was doing something terribly wrong. While she was trying to think in a way to escape that and apologize for leaving him in the middle of a dance, he spoke. 

The Queen raised her eyebrows in surprise. She would have never imagined that the Calormene prince would have asked her something sweet, like how was she feeling and how was her voyage. People in Narnia were used to do that, but not all Calormenes, especially him. Perhaps he wasn’t so bad afterall? Lucy, of course, was the type of person who always believed that there was good in everyone.

"Thank you for your concerns, prince Rabadash, but I do feel fine. It was not the first war I’ve seen and I’m afraid it will not be the last. I’ve grown wiser and lately, I am always prepared," Lucy looked at his dark eyes and her lips barely moved to show him a smile.

[nrpminion]

lucy-valiant-queen inflammableprince

Palm against the palm of his friend, two boys were engaged in a makeshift dance that allowed them to turn every other minute. They were watching as intently as they were being watched. Their lips barely moved, only to be heard if one would strain their ears.

"How did you arrive?"

"With my family. Do you think me insane? No one dares walk outside by themselves anymore."

"I, too, arrived with my mother and sister."

One boy clicked his tongue. "This is absurd! We are left vulnerable and helpless!"

"Quiet!"

With shifty, shaking gazes, they spun away.

[kingedmundofnarnia-deactivated2]

'Lovely' Night || Lasaraleen and Edmund

[lasaraleen-tarkheena-deactivate]

Oh, so he could smile. And what a nice smile it was. Well, wasn’t he a King after all? If she were a Queen, there would not be a day that she would not smile. How silly to think about those misfortunes. She would not dare to challenge the gods and goddesses and want more than what she already had. 

"No offences taken, oh my King, however the fact that you believe you’ve heard of me sounds a bit rude in my ears. I do know Aravis, for she is a great friend of mine, acquainted with myself and my family since the times of our childhood.”

Lasaraleen smiled and approached the King a little more, thinking that if she was there to induce Maladh to be jealous, why not do it even more… provocative? “Many talk about how lucky was Aravis for escaping her marriage to the Gran Vizier, and how scandalously smart she was for doing it all by herself. But oh my King whose eyes are as dark as the night, you do not really believe that one can so easily escape Tashbaan, do you? Not without help,” she blinked.

[kingedmundofnarnia-deactivated2]

Blissfully, Edmund had no idea what the woman was thinking about his smile and that was truly for the better. Instead he shook his head slightly. “I apologize for the confusion; I did not mean to sound rude. I only meant that I thought I had heard the name before, but I wanted to be sure,” he explained carefully, offering an accompanying apologetic smile.

And then the lady drew nearer. Perhaps it was just part of the dance? Edmund thought, trying to be charitable, taking a slightly larger step back at the next moment the dance steps allowed, even as he had a sinking hunch that Lasaraleen drawing nearer did not have any innocence behind it at all. Something about the look in her eyes, he mused, mind ticking away at the issue of the Tarkeena’s closeness as well as the words coming from her mouth.

Nodding politely, he could not do much besides agree with her statement. “Every city has people that see everything. It would be difficult to escape anywhere unaided.” Edmund remembered Aravis telling him part of the story, of how Lasaraleen had helped her leave the city. But why tell him this now? Did perhaps…oh. His mind jumped to a certain conclusion that could make things very interesting, even as he kept his expression calm.

[nrpminion]

kingedmundofnarnia lasaraleen-tarkheena

Their embroidered and beaded gowns foretold of their of position in the Seven Isles, and yet their hunched shoulders seemed burdened with labor found only in fruitless farms.

"Did you hear?"

"Oh, my. Is it about Estienne?"

Wrinkled hands wrung each other as the eldest woman hovered closer to her bosom friend. "Shh! Do you want to be next? ...Alas, his poor wife is heartbroken."

"Said he was taken."

"Said he was only telling the truth about the guv'nor."

Graying heads bobbled, shaking with hopeless dismay.

"We cannot help," said the eldest, her hands turning a livid pink, "lest we wish to disappear as well."

[kingedmundofnarnia-deactivated2]

{for the ball}"Edmund." Susan beamed. "Well, don't you look positively dashing. Did you know Mum was coming? I've just seen her. Have you danced yet?"

"Thank you, Susan." He returned the smile bashfully. "I feel a little silly, though," he added, lowering his voice, expression guilty. "You know I don’t like all the fuss of dressing up. But of course you look beautiful," he continued, voice picking up again.

He glanced around the ballroom, as if expecting to see their mother in that moment. “Well, I knew she was here, but I haven’t seen her yet. And no, I haven’t had the chance to dance.”

[darksoulslovethemoon-blog]

“I’m certain.” She replied. Laughing as they spun together, Susan’s heart felt light.

The music, the crowd, the dancing. These were all things she knew well and felt comfortable with. “Good thing I was not in charge of this ball.” Su teased, knowing how her siblings dreaded a party under her supervision.

“Have you seen Peter or Lucy, Ed?”

[kingedmundofnarnia-deactivated2]

Edmund winced even as he knew his sister teased him. Susan was a force to be reckoned with when she got it into her mind to organize something. He admired the tenacity and eye for detail with which she pursued and polished such events, even as such details made Edmund want to die of boredom. “One thing’s for sure, it would have been a beautiful ball,” he said peaceably.

"I’ve seen Peter in passing, yes, and Lucy, I saw with…across the dance floor," he said, quickly changing what he was going to say as he remembered who he had seen his younger sister talking to.

[nrpminion]

kingedmundofnarnia queen-susan-of-the-horn

A young couple unknowingly spun close to Edmund and Susan. In whispered tones hidden in twirling skirts, they spoke, their eyes darting from one corner of the room to the other.

"Do you see them?"

"No. Do you?"

"…Brother, should we not ask the council of the Narnians?"

Although shorter than his sister, the man easily melded their dance deeper into the flurry of laughing visitors in the Seven Isles. “We cannot. They are watching us.”

[nrpminion]

To Reclaim What is Rightfully Ours (1/2) | Edmund, Suraya, Aslan, Jadis, Emeth, Aaina, Harpy

[nrpminion]

What was it like to fly? The harpy never thought about it, but she wondered what answers the non-flying creatures thought of. Did they say it was like floating on clouds or like tearing away their skin? Did they mention the sweetness laced in the wind that carries them to the realms of the gods, bringing them closer to divine power? The harpy rustled her feathers, cocking her head to one side, and she tried to decipher what the half-naiad meant to convey in her expressions. Was it fear? Anger? Utter bliss?

She was destined to never know. A centaur, a slave of the Lion’s as illustrated by the red lion mark in his breastplate, caught the half-naiad. Immediately on their landing, dwarfs encircled them, their short swords and axes drawn out. The harpy sniffed, turning away. Her fun was severed. Stolen by mere dwarfs, even!

Onyx eyes scanned the battlefield for a new toy. She was above the range of most arrows and was thus taking her time. Floating, fading in the clouds, her skin peeling away from her cheeks. She saw her two sisters summoning a torrent of wind towards the ancient dryad. Closer to the center, wolves had surrounded the king that the weaker side call Edmund.

So close to the sun, the harpy marveled at how small everyone was. Their cause shrunk along with them. The fight was meaningless. Nevertheless, many were so willing to sacrifice their lives for a future that would never be definite. Nevertheless, Jadis’s side offered the best price for her service. Folding the wings to her sides, the harpy dove and gouged out a centaur’s eyes.

[nrpminion]

((reblogging as is because if I write anymore, I might godmod))

[college-collage-blog1]

Then I looked, and there before me was the Lion, standing on the Mount, and with Him efreets, griffins, talking horses and talking bears, dumb animals, giants, women and men both. And I heard a sound from heaven like the roar of rushing waters and like a loud peal of thunder. The sound I heard was like that of harpists playing their harps. And they sang a new song before the Mount before their rulers and enemies. No one could learn the song except those who had been redeemed from the earth. These are those who did not defile themselves with the Witch. They follow the Lion wherever He goes. They were purchased from among mankind and offered as firstfruits to Emperor and the Lion. No lie was found in their mouths; they are blameless.

Then I saw another phoenix flying in midair, and he had the eternal gospel to proclaim to those who live on the earth—to every nation, tribe, language and people. He said in a loud voice, “Fear Aslan and give Him glory, because the hour of His judgment has come. Worship Him who made the heavens, the earth, the sea and the springs of water.” A second phoenix followed and said, “‘Fallen! Fallen is Jadis the Witch!”

And as she said this, the Lion came off the Mount and soon the Witch fell on her back in horror. 

Fangs curled around Her neck. 

And winter was no more. 

[nrpminion]

Battle of Cair Paravel (2/3) | Idonea, Peridan, Caspian X, Aldara, Elizabeth, Ettin

[nrpminion]

The clear water lapped against a ship’s side. And another ship. And another. And another. And. All was quick, hasty. Terror and confusion, a plethora of them of varying degrees and blends, filled the sails and stirred the oars. Faster. Such cries for survival were sewn in chapped, parted lips as the civilians of Cair Paravel, their faces not yet dirtied with guilt, watched as their homes dwindled, swallowed by the elongating ocean. They breathed, their lungs eerily at ease. They would survive. That hit them as much as the wind carried them to Galma. Their neighbors, parents, friends. Those would be the ones who wouldn’t. An elderly Daughter of Eve, who sat near the ship’s bow, told them as much. Her hand, now but a stump with cloth wound around it, lay over wooden planks, a telltale emblem.

Because they were safe in exchange of another’s life. An injured Aldara was forced abroad a ship. Elizabeth was unconscious at the beach. Death hovered over them, a gossamer fluttering, trailing their fingers over the humans’ rough cheeks. It knew it wasn’t their time. Death left them to wallow in their pain, their grief, for a little while longer. The same went for Peridan and Caspian X.

They were the leftover mortals.

But it was there. Lining the cracks. Easing the wounds. As the snow exposed it, the sun bore down on it. Victory for Narnia. Victory for Aslan.

It was a beautiful day. Bright with colors bleeding.

For now, it was over, it was over.

[thetenthcaspian-blog]

Time, in the midst of battle, was a blur of minutes slathered in gore and hours smeared in blood. Dirt moistened into mud clung possessively to the the Tenth’s boots as he wallowed in its pool, crushed and suffocated by the twitching mass of a slaughtered minotaur loyal to the Witch and payed in death its sacrifice for evil’s side. Caspian gasped beneath the excessive weight, writhing to be free from the grime and the stench of the coarse hair and decay. His legs were wrenched free and to his knees did he prop himself, gripping his sword from its place and staggering to his feet, the shriek of a creature heralding disappointment at his remaining life.

The sky was the azure of spring, and dotting the farthest reaches of the place of conflict were flowers, protruding from humping mounds of remaining snow or sprouting from green. The gates of Cair Paravel lay twisted in comparison to the vivid arrival of the first season and seemed an emblem of winter which had marred the entirety of Narnia with its oppressive mantle. The Tenth roused strength, and with adrenaline pounding in his dirt caked ears he slit the throat of a limping ghoul that lashed with broken talons for his legs. Screams echoed in his hearing; the cry of a faun as its throat was torn out by an avaricious wolf and the shriek of a human as it fled from the smoking, crumbled structure of its home. Caspian avenged the murder of the faithful talking beast, fingertips ghosting across the faun’s eyelids to slide them shut in reverence, and from that corpse he sprinted to the side of the woman, whom had run into the midst of the chaos. Her light brown tresses were knotted and amiss, and her blood-stained digits curled in insanity as she sobbed in sorrow, but Caspian was beside her before she could collapse, with an arm beneath around. His teeth were gritted and he thrust his blade toward a dwarf as it wheezed and hobbled toward him, a hag approaching stealthily from behind.

The royal muted the voice of the woman whom he protected from his ears, and concentrated his efforts in dragging her from the field. Grass welcomed her fainted figure in a cushioned bed of innocent nature, the black-bearded dwarf at that moment releasing the last of his arrows from his bow, the small though precise shaft grazing across Caspian’s head, slicing a thin-cardinal line along his forehead. A hiss escaped him, but the dagger that flew in vengeance of the wound inflicted buried itself in the neck of the traitorous one. The hag cackled at the site, her hands raising and venomous words whispering out in a spell to fling at the king. 

But Caspian ran, ran. The air whizzed past his ears and dried his nostrils and deflated his lungs as he collided with the spindly frame of the nightmarish sorceress. Her cursing breathed with heat and revulsion against his ear, but his sword was her answer. He rose again, casting a final look to the woman reposed upon the one pure fraction of the ground, before he moved back into the fray.

Cair Paravel’s citizens, horrified, beset, persecuted, crowded into the last of the boats set out for Galma; the safe haven that would welcome them in alliance with Narnia. Infants unknowing of the danger and abandoned to a life without parents, youths with shock etched into their tear-brimmed orbs, and aged individuals that comforted and cared, their hearts broken for the second, third, fourth time that they had now seen death personified in war, all huddled in these crafts. It had been morning when the final battle had begun with the sounding of a horn and the rousing words of faith. The noon hour had passed now, and shadows were wavering forms amongst the ragged battalions and cacophony of confusion. But the king was there. His back ached, his fingers were numb. But the king was there, and his soul was bleeding as was his skull, his thigh, his shoulder. Aslan, Aslan. Was upon his tongue coated in plasma. Aslan, Aslan!

The warriors of the Lion had dwindled. The servants of the Witch had fallen. Who won amongst this was victor? Bent over the carcass of a faithful centaur, Caspian shut the being’s eyes for the last time until, surely, they met once more in Aslan’s Country.

The victor? It was a sigh at first breath, and then a strain that arose from those that still stood. Aslan. Yes, those of the Lion, the Lion Himself had won.

Caspian approached a trembling child, left without boat to carry her to safety and though she flinched at first away from his bloodied body, when he sat beside her, and smiled through the smudges upon his tan flesh, she came closer and flung herself into his lap, weeping. It was over. Over. He would find a home for this little one in his arms. But it was over, and as he leaned against the wall, his eyes shut.

Fina.

[nrpminion]

Battle of Cair Paravel (2/3) | Idonea, Peridan, Caspian X, Aldara, Elizabeth, Ettin

[thetenthcaspian-blog]

Destrier was a sturdy steed, yet none could fault her for the thrill of terror that erupted in a guttural shriek from her nostrils and lips, prompting her throwing her head in the air with such fervency to avoid the coming claws that Caspian was thrust forward onto her neck. The subsequent snapping jaws that launched at her flank grazed their intended mark, and in startled pain she pranced, reigned by the steady hand of her rider. Caspian’s crimson painted blade gleamed in the sun that herald coming spring, and with intended aim he thrust downward at the vengeful werewolf, his sword perhaps finding purchase in the tissue of his right, hind leg, but he was allowed to lend no attention to see if he had succeeded, for a snarl rumpled near by, and as his chocolate irises swiveled soiled, white fur enclosed his vision and hot, foul breath whispered across his face, the impact of the leopard’s leap wrenching him from astride Destrier.

Caspian’s cry was lost to the sea of the same, the merciless chaos and harvest of death heedless to a single monarch’s distress. He landed without cushion upon the pliable, damp ground, its surface, though slicked in mud, no softening mattress. His left shoulder cracked sickeningly, and he was not certain which pained him more; the flaming ache now crawling through his chest and down his limb from the collision, or the ringing agony of his skull. The feline atop him growled in fierce rage, prepared to release its anger by feasting upon what flesh it might, but a shrill neigh sounded and a great black shape leaped over the prostrated figure of the king beneath the leopard, its back hooves clipping the cat’s spine with momentum enough to snatch him from his victim.

The Tenth grasped his sword, his numb fingers rebelling against it, despite necessity and threat of extermination if he did not swiftly rise. From the dust did he bring himself erect, visage smeared in smudges of grime. With his jaw set he descended upon the leopard, the feline swiping at his knees but falling short of its target and being pierced through by his sword. The screams that roared into his hearing were reminiscent of Beruna, but his mind deafened them, lest he be overwhelmed.

Suffering. Falling. Dying. Irises of human and beast alike glazed with the loss of their eternal souls. A ghoul flung its wounded body at him, shrieking its last as he beheaded it fluidly, artfully spinning upon a heel to draw his elbow into foe’s throat, before burying his blade within its stomach. The resulting soaked him in humors not his own and he was gladdened then he had not consumed sustenance in some hours.

General Peridan was cast from his horse. Aldara was beset. Chaos erupted in the market, square, and house, for the enemy could not be held, and they cascaded into homes, feasting upon civilians. Caspian withheld not the rage at the suffering of his beloved subjects, face contorted in rage and warm, brown eyes ablaze. 

[narniaismyhome-deactivated20171]

Aldara felt tired. Really tired. The fatigue was winning in her body, her strength slowly disappearing. It was really hard walk in the sand because it was being difficult for her not to drag her feet. She turned once to make sure the lady was safe and she was. Her boat was a bit far of the shore and the girl smiled with relief, she hoped to meet that baby one day. If she survived that day.

The injured girl was almost at the end of the beach when she felt the blood of her neck soaking the piece of her dress, that wasn’t good. That moment in which she stop, was the perfect time for a white wolf jumped on her back, making her fall on the sand. His paw dug onto her shoulder and she couldn’t keep a pain scream, it was a big twinge. Aldara tried to move under the wolf but she couldn’t she was paralized because of the animal’s paw. This is the end… Aslan keep me in your glory, whispered to herself closing her eyes to stop a few tears to fall. “Are you ready to die little insignificant human?” the wolf growled in her ear, his stinky breath hitting her cheek. Aldara opened her eyes and swallowed “I am” said firmly, with courage, if it was her day, she would accept it. The girl could feel a smirk on the animal’s face when he dug his paw even deeper on her shoulder. She shifted because of the pain and whimpered. “Little insolent” said dugging his paw even more. He was torturing her. She cried in pain as loud as she could and seconds later the weight of the animal disappeared from her body, her face fall onto the sand, the sand grains scratched her face. Slowly she turned her head to see what was going on bu the sun blinded her.

Aldara closed her eyes trying to breath slowlier, her heartbeat pounding on her ears. A tingle running her arm. Suddenly someone turned her so she was lying on her back with her eyes still closed. She could feel how that person, because it was hands what was holding her, raised her head carefully. “Can you hear me?” she could heard like in the distance “come on girl, don’t leave us”. The girl swallowed again without open her eyes and managed to say “I have to help, there are injured people”. Her body was raised, that person has taken her. Aldara opened her eyes just a bit but her vision was blurried. Even so, she could see a man, a strong one was carrying her. “It’s enough brave lady” his voice was strong but gentle. “I have to help…” whispered closing her eyes because the pain appeared again “I have to come back to the batterfield”. He didn’t say anything and she felt something cold against her back, it was the boat. “Take her out of here, now” the man ordered to whoever was in the boat. “No” she complained taking his hand trying to focus on his face bu without succeed. “It’s over for you girl, it’s over”. And with that he ran away leaving her in the boat, which soon began to move on the water.

[yarncrafterliz]

It was incredibly surreal, and yet it happened so quickly that she had no time to react.  Elizabeth’s sword was wrenched out of her hands and remained lodged in the back of the Ettin’s ankle.  The faun who had worked with her managed to retrieve his weapon, but he was knocked away as the Ettin threw a tantrum of pain.  Large gray fingers closed around her torso, pinning her arms to her sides, and she was lifted off the ground before she could do more than gasp.  Time suddenly seemed to slow down.  Her helmet slipped off, clattering to the ground.  She could see everything happening around her in stunning detail; the blood that saturated the earth below was a deep, vibrant red.  The cold, gray sun that hovered above them seemed drab in comparison.  The air, which had been warming up with the onset of spring, suddenly felt deathly cold.  Elizabeth could smell the Ettin’s fetid breath as it screamed, but not for long.  The next second, she seemed to be weightless; the Ettin had flung her away like an unwanted toy.  Her auburn hair fluttered like a banner.  The air rushing past her ears muffled the sounds of battle.  Her spectacles sailed off her face and rendered her world blurry.  It was a mercy that she couldn’t see the ground approaching.  And, with the loss of her helmet, it was a mercy that her arm broke her fall.  For the briefest of instants, she both heard and felt the bones of her forearm snap as her weight fell upon it.  Then, before she could cry out in agony, her head hit the ground hard enough to bounce off, and she rolled several yards before fetching up against an old shack.  There she lay, as limp as a marionette tossed carelessly into a corner by a fickle child.  Then the sounds of battle faded to distant roar—seeming very unimportant now—before sweet oblivion claimed her. Later, upon waking up, the last thing she would remember would be eating breakfast that morning.  For now, Elizabeth Lockheart was ignorant of the world around her and blissfully unaware of her injuries.

((Reeeeally not happy with this post.  Everyone else has done so well!))

[nrpminion]

The clear water lapped against a ship’s side. And another ship. And another. And another. And. All was quick, hasty. Terror and confusion, a plethora of them of varying degrees and blends, filled the sails and stirred the oars. Faster. Such cries for survival were sewn in chapped, parted lips as the civilians of Cair Paravel, their faces not yet dirtied with guilt, watched as their homes dwindled, swallowed by the elongating ocean. They breathed, their lungs eerily at ease. They would survive. That hit them as much as the wind carried them to Galma. Their neighbors, parents, friends. Those would be the ones who wouldn’t. An elderly Daughter of Eve, who sat near the ship's bow, told them as much. Her hand, now but a stump with cloth wound around it, lay over wooden planks, a telltale emblem.

Because they were safe in exchange of another’s life. An injured Aldara was forced abroad a ship. Elizabeth was unconscious at the beach. Death hovered over them, a gossamer fluttering, trailing their fingers over the humans’ rough cheeks. It knew it wasn’t their time. Death left them to wallow in their pain, their grief, for a little while longer. The same went for Peridan and Caspian X.

They were the leftover mortals.

But it was there. Lining the cracks. Easing the wounds. As the snow exposed it, the sun bore down on it. Victory for Narnia. Victory for Aslan.

It was a beautiful day. Bright with colors bleeding.

For now, it was over, it was over.

[nrpminion]

To Reclaim What is Rightfully Ours (2/2) | Lara, Caspian IX, Andreia, Restimar, Naerwen, Minion

[restimarofthesevenlords-archive]

Three harpies and two werewolves died, arrows either wedged in exposed foreheads or the equally exposed necks. Deed done, their murderer returned the longbow and the newly emptied quiver to its owner: a rotting Narnian soldier.

Restimar had no time to hunt for the fourth harpy he had sighted earlier, for the very creature materialized before him. He heard the flapping wings. Left side. Restimar grimaced (quite uncharacteristic of him, I must add) and clicked his tongue.

The air shuddered.

He sidestepped.

And he miscalculated the harpy’s speed. The lord felt harrowing cuts sink into his skin, from the crown of the head to the lower jaw. Never the one to be the favored by luck, he felt one of the harpy’s talons slip and hook just underneath his left eye.

There was pain. Obviously enough. If you were stabbed anywhere near the eye, you would feel your strength bleeding away from your limbs as well. Nevermind that your left eye was blind—pain never cared about minor details like that.

Uncharacteristic of him, Restimar screamed. His grip around the hammer faltered alongside his balance, and he fell to his knees, but not without seizing the instinct of backing away, of unlatching the contaminated talon from his face—winter, which squirmed inside the fresh wound, proved to be not enough in numbing the lord’s mind. Nevertheless pain wrapped Restimar, rendering his limbs useless. Plans stagnated, for once utterly abandoned and unattended to.

Pain was bad. Dying was bad. Getting scolded, however, was the worst (if you knew Celeacris the way Restimar did, you would understand that the look of worry is more dreadful than the look of anger).

So at that moment, when he simply wanted to crash down, Resitmar had no choice but to get back on his feet. His already limited vision drowned in flowing red and throbbing temples. But for once in his life, luck gave him mercy and stood by him. Painted in his own blood, one hand found his throwing knives, and although his mind was bare of any tactics, the swaying lord aimed for the harpy’s right shoulder.

As the harpy staggered to his eye level, Resitmar used the war hammer for the final time—he crushed the harpy’s skull.

[nrpminion]

A crushed harpy skull marked the end of the struggle at the gate of Beruna. One man lay beside it with the right side of his head bleeding profusely, waving at the vast, clear sky, a greeting of his design to the newly freed red-roofed town. He was called Restimar, a lord with a cracked hammer in hand, a mere mortal who would not know the outcomes of the war until he woke up the day after.

The day was still. Neither frigid wind nor trailing death disturbed the stagnant peace that had settled in the Fords of Beruna, once again bathed in red. No matter how long the grass would grow, that was its color. A deep red, flooding the plains, filling abandoned footprints, the past obscured and deafened. It stained the earth. It willed Bernua to remember how many lives were sacrificed to secure it once again.

An injured Wolf, retreating to tell his alpha of his failure, stood at the edge of Great Woods. His pelt was dripping pink and his breath was staggering black. Bai looked back at carcass of war and, because many of his brothers and sisters had to be left behind, unburied, he had to ask no one, “Who would want to live in a place standing above the dead?”

[the-prizz]

The Doctor is In || Miss Prizzle and NRP hag

[the-prizz]

Prizz swallowed hard. She wasn’t generally a nervous person, in fact prided herself on being strong and independent, but something about this place gave her the shivers. Her posture was poor as the roof of the cave was craggy and jagged and jutted out in unexpected places that made her watch her head.

"Uh, yes," she spoke up, her voice echoing against the stone walls, then hitting the dirt floor with a thud. "I’m looking for some medical assistance, of sorts, and was told you could help." The pungent odor of bitter herbs made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. This was the remedy you came for, she scolded herself, Now stand and take the medicine. Literally, she added with a wry twist of her lips. She fought the urge to turn and run. She’d probably get murdered or something if she tried it. "My name’s Minerva Prizzle," she added, hoping it would offer a bit more trust. Was it possible to portray trust when it was lacking? Prizz didn’t know.  All she knew, was she was going to get whatever potion, spell, or incantation she needed, and was high-tailing it out of there.

[nrpminion]

Her help. Someone needed her help! Roots for hands wrung themselves before the hag placed a rag over herb-filled mortar--there was no need to alarm the human. At least not at the moment. After the hag was certain the mixture of herbs were hidden from prying eyes, she hobbled over to meet her first customer in over a year.

Her customer lacked a beard. She was neither short nor tall, and the lower half of her did not resemble any animal. The hag stifled a sigh. Human. Her customer was a Daughter of Eve. Manipulative creatures humans were. Such lovers of fire and stakes.

And money.

The hag tried to look discreet, though her eyes were scouring for a pouch of Lions and Trees.

“Come in, come in,” she said, her voice hoarse from disuse. Sweeping her hand to invite the Daughter of Eve further inside, the hag made sure that she also directed her customer’s attention to her shelves of masterpieces. “What do you need? A spell for success? A love potion? To be young forever? The last one is very popular amongst your kind. Unfortunately, that is also the priciest,” the hag added with a cackle.

[nrpminion]

Battle of Cair Paravel (3/3) | Helen, Rose, Frank, Frank II, Minion

[nrpminion]

Sour, sharp, the Son of Adam’s vomit snagged inside the gray Wolf’s nose and unhinged his paw from Rose. Claws settled over red hair while the Wolf’s snout wrinkled.

“Nasty!” The Wolf repeatedly pawed his nose. “That’s nasty, Son of Adam. What did you eat? Spiced garbage? Ugh! Humans are so weird. I don’t know why Bai likes to talk to you lot. That’s—eww. The smell is stuck in my nose!”

Shaking his head, the Wolf tried to clear his nose of the putrid scent but instead forced it further upward, lodging vomit in the crevices of his memories. The gray Wolf stood, shivered, and slammed his forepaws back into the grime that used to be snow.

He returned to war.

The Wolf, while not as strong as Bai or Vardan, pulled Rose up by her broken arm and tossed her in between him and Frank II. He waited for a reaction. One flinch. Breaking eye contact with him. Anything. A second of momentary weakness was all he needed.

Then the Wolf moved. He leaped over the Daughter of Eve and tackled Frank II to the ground, but with the stench of vomit repelling him from going for the face, the Wolf settled on the legs. He bit into the left thigh.

[nrpminion]

It rode alongside a heartbeat that dwindled, wanting yet refusing to stop, its fading echoes clinging onto a shattered ribcage and crushed breastplate.

Buildings were just the same. Unturned roofs, now nothing but fragmented bones, sprawled across the bloated streets where dying cries and breathing corpses lay. Guts, lungs, stomachs, hearts spilled from collapsed walls, revealing a bed that once belonged to a young Daughter of Eve, a dining table stained with coffee and jam, and a door peeking from underneath unrecognizable rubble.

But it was there. Lining the cracks. Easing the wounds. As the snow exposed it, the sun bore down on it. Victory for Narnia. Victory for Aslan.

The Great Woods swallowed the fleeing nightmare while its putrid remains hung around the victors’ ankles. For now, it was over, it was over.

[nrpminion]

To Reclaim What is Rightfully Ours (1/2) | Edmund, Suraya, Aslan, Jadis, Emeth, Aaina, Harpy

[nrpminion]

What was it like to fly? The harpy never thought about it, but she wondered what answers the non-flying creatures thought of. Did they say it was like floating on clouds or like tearing away their skin? Did they mention the sweetness laced in the wind that carries them to the realms of the gods, bringing them closer to divine power? The harpy rustled her feathers, cocking her head to one side, and she tried to decipher what the half-naiad meant to convey in her expressions. Was it fear? Anger? Utter bliss?

She was destined to never know. A centaur, a slave of the Lion’s as illustrated by the red lion mark in his breastplate, caught the half-naiad. Immediately on their landing, dwarfs encircled them, their short swords and axes drawn out. The harpy sniffed, turning away. Her fun was severed. Stolen by mere dwarfs, even!

Onyx eyes scanned the battlefield for a new toy. She was above the range of most arrows and was thus taking her time. Floating, fading in the clouds, her skin peeling away from her cheeks. She saw her two sisters summoning a torrent of wind towards the ancient dryad. Closer to the center, wolves had surrounded the king that the weaker side call Edmund.

So close to the sun, the harpy marveled at how small everyone was. Their cause shrunk along with them. The fight was meaningless. Nevertheless, many were so willing to sacrifice their lives for a future that would never be definite. Nevertheless, Jadis’s side offered the best price for her service. Folding the wings to her sides, the harpy dove and gouged out a centaur’s eyes.

[nrpminion]

((reblogging as is because if I write anymore, I might godmod))

[nrpminion]

To Reclaim What is Rightfully Ours (2/2) | Lara, Caspian IX, Andreia, Restimar, Naerwen, Minion

[restimarofthesevenlords-archive]

Pain was terrible. It made many cry and many more be swept in the waves of anguish. Pain was to be expected in times of war. Whether it was physical or mental, many and many more in the future would witness the effects of pain.

Restimar was not one of those. If he didn’t listen to his mother (which, if you knew her, was impossible to do) and didn’t wear his cuirass, Restimar would have felt pain. He was after all human. All smiles, it was very understandable that most would forget about this. How did Restimar maintain his cheerful disposition, even when he was in the midst of a great battle that decided Beruna’s fate? How did Restimar laugh when a white Wolf bit his right arm?

If you asked Restimar these, he would have would have gladly answered with the greatest, largest of all smiles. The answer? He was having fun. If you asked me, I would have told you the truth. And here it is: Restimar was wearing chainmail that covered his torso and arms. A small Wolf like Bai was not strong enough to break through chainmail.

"You’re not Maugrim," Restimar said, his laughter dying immediately. Kicking the Wolf on the stomach, the lord unlatched several of his throwing knives from his sleeves. Three flew towards Bai. The rest, all four of them, were aimed for a harpy’s (who he noticed was busy with attacking Andreia) eyes and neck.

Unfortunately for the lord (and fortunately for the harpy), only one knife found its target. The harpy’s neck rained.

"Don’t touch her." Those were Restimar’s words to the harpy. The words, as if they weren’t enough, was coupled with the absence of a smile.

[restimarofthesevenlords-archive]

Three fauns at the right. Four harpies above. A dwarf behind him. Five weapons were free for the taking. Restimar pulled a broadsword from a dead Narnian soldier’s chest, swiveled on his left foot, and, with his weight resting on his bent right leg, thrust the sword into its new resting place. The dwarf stumbled, dead before he landed on the earth. His face was unrecognizable as it housed the blade where his nose and mouth should be.

Unhooking two knives from his right foreman, the lord jumped from his spot and directly confronted the fauns. One knife was found a faun’s neck. The other missed its target but had managed to push the remaining fauns a few steps back. Restimar’s eyes darted to and fro. Another broadsword was lying near his feet and from its clean surface, it had slipped from the owner’s hand. Two swords were like flagless poles hoisted by rotting bodies. The lord peered at the last weapon. If he wasn’t so focused on killing, he would have grinned. Restimar sprinted to his right and lifted a war hammer from underneath a dying centaur.

“I’m taking this,” he said.

But he hesitated. He went back. He looked the centaur, his eyes soaking in the notion of death etched in the other’s severed arms. How interesting. Death was a process. Bodily functions slackened, calling for the end to arrive and yet it was also stalling, keeping the body alive, pumping blood, beating heart, conjuring pain to accompany the centaur till his body could no longer hold on. The centaur gasped. The lord kept staring.

A fluid motion. Hand in sleeve. Hand out of sleeve. Hand slitting the centaur’s throat.

Restimar returned to the dilemma of two fauns and four harpies. Tightening his hold on the war hammer, he slammed its flat head on a faun’s ribs.

[nrpminion]

The first chill of silver seared down the feather’s on her digits. She gnashed her blood stained teeth in the direction the blade soared, and she was hit directly in the side of her neck. Her talons flexed into the queen’s shoulder one last time before going to kill the Son of Adam. She lifted off using the queen’s injured neck and shoved her to the ground. Her wings thumped loudly like the vein on her forehead as she moved closer to Restimar. 

At about this time the wolf picked himself up from behind a tree and shook his head—his ears flopping nosily on each side. He licked his bottom jowl and realized the taste of human flesh was not upon it! Someone else without armor…someone else… Tongue hanging out, he scampered to take a leg off a jaguar. 

The harpy knew the man’s eyes didn’t have armor! So she beat her wings in front of his face for him to flinch and then sink her claws deep, deep into his sockets! Oh how simply delicious! Revenge was sweeter than pomegranates.

[nrpminion]

Battle of Cair Paravel (2/3) | Idonea, Peridan, Caspian X, Aldara, Elizabeth, Ettin

[a-sleeping-fire-deactivated2014]

Peridan’s head laid on the cold grass, concussed, dripping heat into his ears and closed eyelids. His lip twitched. His right shoulder jolted.

But somehow, as if stronger arms had lifted him, he achingly rose to his knees then to his legs before his eyes opened. The congealed blood that filled his mouth like thick, bitter oil was not spat on the dried grass, but in his cupped hands—his harshly tanned palms, stained with vermillion browning to maroon and blemished with the skin of ripped callouses. He wiped them on the back of his tunic that covered his chain-mail. Peridan turned and began to limp.

Through his blurry vision he could make out a girl resting against a tree. He stumbled toward her.  

There was a sharp ringing in his ears, but all else was silent. The ring. Was it the sailing wind? The wind curled its fingers around his face to blow his hair out of his eyes, but the mud and gore kept his hair matte on his forehead—save for a few, stray hairs. He expression was not that of joy, nor was it of regret, nor was it of sorrow. He breathed through his mouth, his eyes squinted at the soldier.

His empty hand slowly extended out to her. 

Then suddenly a horse, Canela, moved straight under his legs and pushed him upwards. Canela was viciously beating the ground with his hooves, appearing to be disgusted with the dirt that lay beneath them. Peridan, limp, pressed his weight on the mare’s neck. Canela stopped and started, desperate for his rider to wake up. 

The horse then came to Aldara and did the same. 

Though the girl was now behind him, Peridan’s eyes only widened when he saw a wind-swept figure fly past them. Her body twisted through the sky as she soared. Her red hair glided out of her face. 

Startled into consciousness, Peridan reached down, took a sword from a minotour’s back, then swiftly killed a pack of archer dwarves. 

He then heard the screams of the people—an elegy. 

"Watch my back!" he yelled to the girl, not knowing her injury, and leaped off the horse to attack the Ettin. 

Running, shouting, appearing mad, he moved to stab the Ettin in the chest.

[narniaismyhome-deactivated20171]

Fortunately, Aldara didn’t lose consciousness. Though she felt the pain in her body, the blood running from her neck, she could open her eyes. At the beginning her vision was blurry but bit by bit the girl could focus her eyes in the war in front of her. Wake up Aldara, come on, wake up!! thought for herself. Her hand was trembling, but she could pressng it agains her neck, feeling the warm blood. A deep sigh escaped from her lips before swallow. With her free hand, the girl cut more of her dress to tie it around her neck. It worked. “I don’t want to die…” said whispering trying to move herself but without succeed.

Suddenly a man stood in front of her. Sir Peridan. Aldara could recognize him. The man was offering her a hand to stand up but before she could do anything a beautiful mare appeared next to them. Sir Peridian was pretty injured too and his horse helped him. What a noble animal. The girl felt joy inside, it was nice to see loyalty in that time. Surprisingly the mare helped her too to stand up. Her legs slackened but she relied on the animal, just behind the man. “Thank you” said stroking her side soflty

Everything happened so fast, sir Peridan was on her mare, ready to keep fighting. I’ll have to thank him later, thought smiling a bit.

Aldara felt weak, if she kept fighting she wouldn’t survive but she couldn’t stay there neither. The girl took a breath and looked to the sea behind her, there were some boats. “That’s it” said to herself before turned again scaning the situation. There were bodies, of course, and that was heatbreaking but there were injured persons too. With her sword on her right hand, she approached a woman that was on her knees crying. “My lady, look at me” she was paled and red eyes because of the crying “there are boats on the beach, go there and you’ll be safe”. “I can stand up” said between sobs. “Of course you can, come on”. She took her carefully and made her stay on her feet, seeing her bulging belly. “Oh my lady, you shouldn’t be here at all”. Aldara began to walk with her leaning on her. “How will go to the boats” asked the woman with difficulty “the enemy is fighting in the other side, and if we have troubles I’ll take care of you”. “But you are child my dear” she smiled “yes, but I’m old enough to be in this war, not like that baby you carry inside my lady”.

On their way to the beach, they found a man who was pretty injured too so between both of them got him and the three of them arrived to the beach. “Bless you my dear” said the woman taking her wrist before she went back to the battlefield “my pleasure, my lady”.

[nrpminion]

There was a soldier. She lay atop a dwarf and a centaur. Her necklace hung over her drawn back head, the chain tracing her cheeks while the pendant, a steel heart her younger sister gave her for luck, dangled over her forehead, upside-down, touching her once a while out of mercy. Blood seeping from her neck mingled with the pendant and the metallic scent drew the soldier’s eyes close.

The same heavy smell bore down on the Ettin’s chest. Pushing, pushing, staying. The chest stayed still, a stone for Peridan’s sword to rest in. Four arms and two legs spread out, cold and rough, much like stone mounds in memory of the dead. Only the giant’s thick blood flowed, unhindered by the mortal wound that stole the giant's life, and kept dyeing the knee, the heel, and the sword red.

There was a flicker of silence.

Two Wolves slipped through.

A white Wolf tackled Aldara, propelling her to the sand. One paw dug onto the human’s injured shoulder and forced dirt into the untreated wound.

A black Wolf skidded to the right, away from its mate, and unhinged her jaw for Peridan’s left hand.

In the distance, in the town, screams continued to sing, filling the air, filling the ears. Screams of humans, of dwarfs, of hags and werewolves and giants. So much dying. Death was kept busy, preoccupied with untwisting an infant’s soul from a father’s grip and coercing a Wolf pup to come with it. Three humans, a general and two soldiers, kept their lives with them, secure under their chainmail.

[nrpminion]

Battle of Cair Paravel (3/3) | Helen, Rose, Frank, Frank II, Minion

[thefirstcrownprince]

The — the thing that Frank had his fingers wrapped around was weakening, he could tell that. He tried to force himself to detach himself from the situation, tried to make himself forget that what he was trying to do was to kill a living thing, but he just — couldn’t. It was an evil thing, a monster, but still —

He was distracted enough not to notice as the ghoul tried to heave itself towards the ground for the first time, but he noticed as he hit the ground hard, right on top of the thing. His hands clenched involuntarily, in an attempt to catch himself, and the thing gasped and screamed before falling silent.

Frank looked up, winded, startled, and scared as a wolf leapt over him, towards Rose, completely clearing his head as he lay, sprawled in the dirt.

Towards Rose.

He tried to whirl himself back around, but that only resulted in a gagging sound as the thin breakfast he had eaten came back up to meet him.

[nrpminion]

Sour, sharp, the Son of Adam’s vomit snagged inside the gray Wolf’s nose and unhinged his paw from Rose. Claws settled over red hair while the Wolf’s snout wrinkled.

“Nasty!” The Wolf repeatedly pawed his nose. “That’s nasty, Son of Adam. What did you eat? Spiced garbage? Ugh! Humans are so weird. I don’t know why Bai likes to talk to you lot. That’s—eww. The smell is stuck in my nose!”

Shaking his head, the Wolf tried to clear his nose of the putrid scent but instead forced it further upward, lodging vomit in the crevices of his memories. The gray Wolf stood, shivered, and slammed his forepaws back into the grime that used to be snow.

He returned to war.

The Wolf, while not as strong as Bai or Vardan, pulled Rose up by her broken arm and tossed her in between him and Frank II. He waited for a reaction. One flinch. Breaking eye contact with him. Anything. A second of momentary weakness was all he needed.

Then the Wolf moved. He leaped over the Daughter of Eve and tackled Frank II to the ground, but with the stench of vomit repelling him from going for the face, the Wolf settled on the legs. He bit into the left thigh.

[nrpminion]

To Reclaim What is Rightfully Ours (1/2) | Edmund, Suraya, Aslan, Jadis, Emeth, Aaina, Harpy

[nrpminion]

What was it like to fly? The harpy never thought about it, but she wondered what answers the non-flying creatures thought of. Did they say it was like floating on clouds or like tearing away their skin? Did they mention the sweetness laced in the wind that carries them to the realms of the gods, bringing them closer to divine power? The harpy rustled her feathers, cocking her head to one side, and she tried to decipher what the half-naiad meant to convey in her expressions. Was it fear? Anger? Utter bliss?

She was destined to never know. A centaur, a slave of the Lion’s as illustrated by the red lion mark in his breastplate, caught the half-naiad. Immediately on their landing, dwarfs encircled them, their short swords and axes drawn out. The harpy sniffed, turning away. Her fun was severed. Stolen by mere dwarfs, even!

Onyx eyes scanned the battlefield for a new toy. She was above the range of most arrows and was thus taking her time. Floating, fading in the clouds, her skin peeling away from her cheeks. She saw her two sisters summoning a torrent of wind towards the ancient dryad. Closer to the center, wolves had surrounded the king that the weaker side call Edmund.

So close to the sun, the harpy marveled at how small everyone was. Their cause shrunk along with them. The fight was meaningless. Nevertheless, many were so willing to sacrifice their lives for a future that would never be definite. Nevertheless, Jadis’s side offered the best price for her service. Folding the wings to her sides, the harpy dove and gouged out a centaur’s eyes.

[nrpminion]

((reblogging as is because if I write anymore, I might godmod))

[nrpminion]

Battle of Cair Paravel (3/3) | Helen, Rose, Frank, Frank II, Minion

[queen-nellie]

Every time her family seemed to make even the slightest stride forward, a creature from the witch’s side drew them two strides back.  She had thought, in attempting to protect Rose and Frank, that she could distract the evil beings long enough, and prevent serious injuries to her family.

 She was wrong.

 Rose was still under attack.  Frank was still under attack.  And before Helen had time to think about ways to aid them, the he-ghoul charged at her, and his knife found it’s way into her side. 

 The wound was agonizing, causing the Queen to fall back onto herself, quickly grasping to her side.  She could feel the warmness of blood – her blood, seeping through her dress.  Between it and the burning of her arm, Helen’s left side was now unusable, and any further damage would surely send her out of consciousness.  She couldn’t let that happen.  She needed to protect her children, to protect her people.

 She fought against the ghoul as best she could, utilizing her right side, when a gift from Aslan fell to her.  She recognized the sword, and knew it to be her son’s.  But why had it landed here?  A quick glance around her surroundings confirmed the worst – both of her children fighting and being injured.  Without a second thought, Helen quickly grabbed the weapon, taking it in her right hand, and held it against the ghoul.  It was heavy, and in her life, she had rarely used a sword, but she knew its lethalness if used correctly.  She began to quickly swing it, hoping to hit any part of the he-ghoul.

[anunrulyrose-deactivated2014120]

Rose had been fortunate and strong enough to drive a handful of jabs with her dagger into the ghoul’s left side. But it had not done much for her. Her hands still lightly shook which caused her aim to be less than stellar. Her attempts seemed to only incapacitate the ghoul for a short amount of time. No sooner had she sent the dagger into his flesh once more was she thrown away, landing on her back. It took her a couple deep breaths before she was properly able to even think straight. 

But she was soon met with another terrifying adversary. Her scalp stung as the she-ghoul tangled up in her mass of thick red hair. Somehow her hair had been freed from the neat and tidy braid she had begun the battle with and it hung loosely around her face.

She fought best she could to keep the she-ghoul as far away from her as she could. But her human strength was no match against her. She found herself turned onto her stomach and she continued to struggle against the strong hold she was enclosed in. The weight of the she-ghoul on her back made it that much more difficult to continue fighting, but Rose wouldn’t give up. Her arm was pulled and she let out a pained scream as she attempted to thrash underneath the she-ghoul, even if it caused more pain in her arm to do so. 

[thefirstcrownprince]

Frank pulled himself over to his sister, gritting his teeth against the pain shooting again and again from his leg. No. He was not going to let these things hurt, or, or — he didn’t let himself consider the second thought for more than a few seconds — his family. The rest of the battle had momentarily disappeared as he focused on the threats that, right now, were close to tearing apart almost his entire world.

The ghoul was trying to subdue his sister as she thrashed about, the freakish legs attempting to straddle Rose’s back. Her screams both punched the breath out of Frank and gave him the angered strength to throw himself onto the ghoul and attempt to pull it away. He didn’t have any weapons — his sword had somehow disappeared — wait. Did Mother have it? The brief shock caused his grip to loosen slightly, but it tightened to a choking squeeze as he tried to throttle the monster, anything to get it away from his family. To kill it.

His blue eyes grew wide, but his breath ragged out of his mouth, hardening himself. He would do what had to be done.

[nrpminion]

The dwarf winced as Helen drove the sword into the ghoul’s open wound. A blood-curdling scream painted the skies bright and as the he-ghoul fell, the dwarf ran for his life.

In the void followed by pain compelling enough to kill, death flourished.

Death was not to be seen or, most of the time, it was denied of an existence. But the she-ghoul knew. She saw. She heard.

Fingers longer than a human’s squeezed Rose’s forearm. Disproportionately long arms tensed and stretched, one to push down on the Daughter of Eve’s back, the other to wrench the arm off the shoulder socket. Because it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. Her brother was dead. Killed by a mere human! “Die already,” she hissed. She pulled harder. “I’ll tear you to pieces. Then I’ll eat you. I’ll eat you and make your pathetic human race watch.”

An incredible force armed with four limbs unlatched her hold on Rose and again filthy snow swallowed her, restraining her to the earth, forcing her to consume frost than flesh. A mouth full of snow, the same force that had shoved her concentrated around her neck, tightening, loosening, tightening, a hold not of a trained fighter's but of a weak child's. And yet she was choking. The ghoul shrieked. She writhed under the hold, clawing Frank II’s arms and hands, digging her talon-like fingers in between her flesh and the human’s, thrashing her arms in hopes of the hold loosening.

In the end, it was her strength that diminished. Taking advantage of the first sign of mortality, fear captured the ghoul’s heart.

“Need help?” came a voice from the east.

The voice belonged to a gray Wolf, heavily wounded on one hind leg but still managed to remain standing, his stance firm and unwavering. Before the ghoul could spit out her refusal, the Wolf leapt and made a swipe for Rose. However, brown eyes challenged the Daughter of Eve’s mother.

The she-ghoul snarled at the new arrival but was stopped short. Saliva sputtered while the ghoul made another halfhearted attempt at separating herself from the human. As a last resort, although terribly weakened, the ghoul stood and fell, back first, as means of having the Son of Adam take the full force of the fall.

((Feel free to kill any or all of them~~))

[nrpminion]

Battle of Cair Paravel (2/3) | Idonea, Peridan, Caspian X, Aldara, Elizabeth, Ettin

[narniaismyhome-deactivated20171]

Aldara ran as fast as she could and jumped on a creature to get the roof of the building. She was bleeding from her shoulder too much and she was beginning to feel dizzy. With the sword, she cut a piece of her dress to tie it around the shoulder and stop the bleeding. It was quite complicated to do it by herself but she couldn’t ask anyone for help.

The girl cleaned the blood of her jaw and looked at the place. The view was heartbreaking. Her fellow Narnians were fighting for their lives, not all of them having success. The enemy was strong, how could they win that war? Aldara looked at the sky and whispered “please don’t let us die today”.

She jumped to the ground and fought against some dwarfs. Luckily, she knew who they fought so it wasn’t really difficult. She saw a bow on the ground and when she was going to take it something jumped on her back, as the claws of the creature dug into her shoulders. Aldara let out a cry of pain. Suddenly she felt something warm running her neck, it was her own blood. The lynx had bitten her neck.  Barely taking the bow, she turned on herself hitting the lynx hard enough to move him. One of her shoulders were out of its place her neck was bleeding, making her felt really dizzy. She put her hand on the wound to try to stop the blood and she looked at the lynx that was right in front of her and was staring at her with evil eyes. The girl wanted to scream for help but no word came out of her mouth. The creature walked towards her slowly, enjoying the moment. Aldara couldn’t move the hand of her neck and the other hand was the one corresponding to the arm that had the shoulder out of place. She was in pain but when the human being is close to the dead, humans can do unbelievable things. She moved herself on her injured shoulder to place it. Then the Lynx jumped on her legs but she shrugged them and quickly grabbed her sword to cut one of his ears. That gave her time enough to stand up and stick her sword in the beautiful yet dangerous creature.

Aldara walked with difficulty to a tree and couldn’t endure more pain. She fell on the ground pulling away slowly her hand, letting the blood run again. “Don’t close your eyes, don’t close your eyes” said to herself but the girl felt how she lost the feeling of her legs and eventually the rest of her body. She blinked a few times until she closed her eyes lying on the floor with the noise of the war still ringing in her ears.

[yarncrafterliz]

A heavy body knocked Elizabeth to the ground, and she landed on her sword.  Fortunately, the blade was already flat beneath her, so she wasn’t cut.  All the same, her breath whooshed out of her, and purple specks of light danced in her field of vision for a brief moment.  The body on top of her stirred, then rolled off.  As the faun who had landed on her got to his hooves, another faun yelled in rage and horror just before a sickening 'crunch' reached Elizabeth’s ears.  Had it begun to rain?  Since when was rain warm?  Elizabeth finally got to her feet, and touched the liquid that ran down her face.  Looking at the dark maroon smear on her gloved finger, she realized that it was blood.  The blood was not her own.  The crunching sound echoed in her memory again, and she realized that the Ettin had just devoured one of her colleagues, and the unfortunate’s blood had sprinkled them like a brief but gory spring shower.  The impact of the faun had stunned her, but she had recovered now, and the survivors began to regroup. This was not the time or place for memories.  Right now, it did not matter what had happened in Beruna, and it did not matter how they felt.  They had all made this choice.  They had known what it meant.  None of them wanted to die, like several of their number had just done, but they certainly would die if they did not get control of the situation now.  More importantly, the evacuees would die if they failed to keep the Ettin busy or—better yet—kill him. How could they kill the Ettin if their arrows were as bee-stings to it, and their swords could not reach an important artery?  They needed him down on their level.  But how to get him there? Elizabeth saw that the Ettin was favoring one of his legs, and she realized that someone had stabbed it in the knee.  This was probably what had sent him charging in their direction; it would probably take someone tall, like a centaur, to reach that high.  Perhaps it had been someone mounted on a horse.  Either way, perhaps this was the key!  If they could make it so that the Ettin would rely on his bad leg to stay upright, they might actually be able to get him to fall, and one of them might be lucky enough to land a killing blow. This creature was like a force of nature; chaos personified.  Elizabeth locked eyes with the same faun who had landed on her, and nodded at the Ettin’s knee before pointing at the other leg.  He nodded, something like a grin coming to his face as he took her meaning, and they circled round, swords at the ready.  The faun held up three fingers, wordlessly counted down to one, then bellowed, “Now!” As a unit, Liz and the faun stabbed at the achilles tendon of its good leg.

[nrpminion]

The earth smeared crimson, the skies bathed in gold. Eluding spring, recently liberated from winter's shackles, pleaded for the sun's freedom. The clouds obliged, and the land below saw the sun's great rays, unhindered by the frost, undisturbed by the wind. Spring wound strings of light around its many fingers and weaved them with the sharp scent of flowers and trees tearing away their white blankets. Sprinkled sparingly, drenched in hands refusing to let go, there was also grief in spring's tapestry; the main inspiration originated from the muffled tears trapped in a house near Aldara.

There were a total of four children and one pregnant woman hiding in a room with its window ajar. They cried because of fright. They cried because of fear. They cried because their parents were dead, sprawled at the entrance, their eyes open, empty, screaming.

Screaming. In place of the melting blankets of snow, screams, cries, and last breaths leaking out of dead bodies flooded Cair Paravel. Whether they were loyal to Aslan or to the White Witch, death gathered them all. Cradled in death's arms, there were more creatures who pledged their loyalty to the White Witch.

And then more screaming. It wasn't a accumulation of cries for rescue. The Ettin screamed as two blades penetrated his gray skin. From growling to snarling to whimpering, the giant held his ground. He stayed standing, his two feet, one with a bleeding knee and another with a ruined heel, planted squarely on the earth. He screamed and screamed, yanking his pain from his body. But it wasn't enough.

The giant's knees buckled. The world around him shook. He was falling. Death waited for him.

A final surge of energy, stemmed from desperation stained with incomprehensible fury, the Ettin thrashed out his four arms. Soldiers flew or were crushed. One in particular, Elizabeth, was seized into the giant's grip.

With no plan at all in his small head, the Ettin hurled the human away from him as he fell onto his back.

[nrpminion]

Battle of Cair Paravel (3/3) | Helen, Rose, Frank, Frank II, Minion

[queen-nellie]

Helen barely had time to recognize the blonde head that quickly approached before an agonizing force in her lower left arm.  The Queen fell back, blonde hair flying as she went, and she landed with a sharp thud.  Barely thinking of it though, she quickly rolled over, prying the teeth off of her already throbbing wrist.  Now both of her eldest children fought beside her.  It was as if her worst nightmare came true, throwing itself in her face.  She could not protect both of them, as much as she wanted to. 

Two of her children were in danger.  With all the force the woman could muster, she threw the she-ghoul to the side, hoping to buy her own self time to come up with some sort of idea as to how to attempt to aid Frank and Rose.  She stood up quickly, paying as little attention as possible to her wrist.  Flickering her blue eyes around the premise, her heart sank as she realized the situation the three were in.  Frank was entangled with a dwarf, and Rose being attacked by another ghoul.  Scanning the ground, the Queen took up a rock in her right hand.  Aiming and exerting the force she could muster, Helen threw the rock towards the ghoul, hoping to distract him from Rose.

Immediately after, she ran to where Frank was, and began to try and fight off the dwarf, praying to Aslan that Rose was able to regain herself.

[anunrulyrose-deactivated2014120]

The warm breath of the ghoul brought goosebumps to her skin as she narrowly escaped a possible life-threatening bite to the neck. But this did give Rose the smallest of moments to regain a bit of herself after the surprise of being brought down from her horse. When she had disobeyed her parents’ wishes and joined in the battle, she now knew that she did not fully understand what the consequences of her actions could bring about. Stupid girl, she thought to herself before hurried to a standing position. As she kept a careful eye on the ghoul, she took a quick look away to scan the area around her.

What she saw took her aback. 

Her brother was in the midst of fighting with a dwarf and her mother was taking a bite from a ghoul. “No!” She cried out upon seeing such a creature do something to her mother. But she found there was nothing she could do whenever she felt the puncture of teeth on her arm. Immediate panic went through her as she attempted to shake off the ghoul, but it only tore more at her skin, causing her to gasp out in pain. 

Her mother’s attempt to help her allowed Rose time to pull out the small dagger she had brought with her and plunge it into any part of the ghoul she could.

[thefirstcrownprince]

Frank had felt his hold on the creature slipping as it twisted and jerked away, and it grunted as it managed to kick him in the head, boot connecting to skull with a dull thump. A thump that hurt quite a bit. Frank’s grip slackened, and the dwarf wrenched itself free as Frank tried to push the pain away. The dwarf kicked at his stomach, but Frank wasn’t nearly as unprepared for that. Being the eldest sibling, after all, got him used to the roughhousing of the younger ones. He’d been the big, scary monster enough times, but this was the first time it  had paid off.

Frank tried to push himself back up, but the dwarf slashed at his face, jerking him back. As he did so, he saw two ghouls advancing on his mother and sister.

That made him angry.

Frank forced himself to his feet even as the dwarf drove a crude dirk into his thigh. There was a sound, an animal sound, and it took Frank a little while to realise that it was him. The pain was shooting, excruciating, as hot blood ran down his knees and his calves, but he had to do something. He would not let Mum and Rose die without doing something to try to save them. They would not die. They wouldn’t.

Frank punched at the dwarf, trying to bring it down, then pulled himself towards his sister. He’d lost his sword in the struggle before, but he reached for the ghoul, trying to hit it, punch it, anything. Anything to get it off his younger sister.

[nrpminion]

Skin taunt and thick, the cold couldn’t penetrate it even if the she-ghoul was buried in blood-stain snow. A human had pushed her! Her of all creatures. To make it worse, she had tripped and fell face-first. It was like she was mimicking a lesser creature. Like a dwarf. Or a faun. Hissing then gnashing her teeth, the she-ghoul pushed herself up.

A foul scream surged forth. It didn't came from her lungs.

“No,” the she-ghoul said, getting up. “No, no. Brother?”

The she-ghoul didn’t see her sibling. She met a red-haired human instead. More bony than meaty, the human was flung towards her.

Ghoul and human fell back in the decaying snow.

Tainting, corrupting, destroying. Red conquered white underneath the he-ghoul. Knees shaking, chest heaving, the ghoul gasped, his energy spent after hurling Rose away from him. Only the human’s knife remained, embedded in his left side. He eyed the two blondes, the remaining humans that threatened his existence. Weaponless, they should pose more of a joke than a threat, but the knife in him told him otherwise. The he-ghoul kept an eye on Frank II, pulled out the knife, and crouched, waiting for the moment he could dig the blade in the queen’s eye socket.

“Brother!” The she-ghoul struggled with the weight of a human. Enticing as it was to smell the flesh of a royal one, her brother came first.

When claws were tangled in red hair, it was then the she-ghoul realized she was holding the human responsible for her brother’s pain. A rasp giggle escaped thin lips as the ghoul grabbed Rose by the arm, twisted her to her stomach, and sat on her back. Arm in her hold, the she-ghoul pulled, her eyes widening, ravenous to hear bones snapping.

Head buzzing from the blow, the dwarf stood at the side. Both hands were preoccupied—one had his short sword and the other had Frank II’s sword. The dwarf stroked his beard with his weapon, contemplating on what to do. He wasn’t entirely fond of the condescending sibling-ghouls. On the other hand, he also wasn’t fond of the humans who had only hatred for his queen.

The dwarf threw the human-made sword towards the ghoul.

The he-ghoul looked back and began to protest.

He was too late. Waiting as no longer an option. The ghoul sprinted and stabbed Helen on her left side, the exact same area that would cause the he-ghoul’s death.

Catching the sun’s feeble rays before it fell back to the earth, the sword landed near Helen’s feet.

The dwarf was notorious for his bad aim.