Diclaimer: A bit descriptively gory in places. JaxyS :)
~~*~~
She always seemed to pull the lousy filthy duties that no-one wanted. Shyne
Blake, Royal Guard Rider, currently grounded, was starting to think that
someone was making sure she pulled these duties on purpose. Most of it went
over her head because she wouldn't allow herself to be affected by it and
infected by the hatred. Generally within the ranks to the Royal Guard she
was the outcast, if there was a lousy duty she was probably going to pull
it.
Too many of her colleagues and superior officers hated the name Kurakolis.
They hated Morgaine for being evil and they hated him because they'd never
been able to pin anything concrete on him. And they hated her simply
because she bore his name. Because in his youth, the mage had lain with an
unstable woman with inherant magical abilities in an experiment of dual
power and had created a small fire which flickered and grew into Shyne Blake
Kurakolis.
The prejudiced seemed unable to look beyond the name to the woman. Yes she
had a temper, but she worked hard and tried to be good at her job. And for
the most part she controlled her temper. She was a good friend, fiercely
loyal and she had a strong sense of right and wrong. But most importantly,
she was not Morgaine and did not deserve the hatred others felt for him to
be heaped upon her young shoulders. He hadn't even raised her although they
undoubtedly had ties and unresolved matters of father and daughter between
them. As well as being a Kurakolis, Shyne was also shaped by the life she'd
led. It had been hard but character building and it had taught her many
lessons. Her strength could be admired but few saw past the name and the
odd temper tantrum.
She didn't dwell on this, she did her job and went home to the comfort of
luxuary and love. Being loved, living in the warmth of it, made the rest
somehow insignificant.
And thus she mused as she was directing traffic around a cartload of
stinking carcass remnants, unusable animal waste that was transpoerted from
the Drache butchers shops to be burned or fed to animals outside the city.
"Why me?" she'd asked miserably when the smell of the load overwhelmed her
senses.
Some of the animal remains were a few days old and the stench of blood and
dead flesh mingled with the sickly sweet smell of rotting flesh. There had
been an accident and the cart had lost a wheel and overturned. The stench
was overwhelming and she'd already lost her lunch from forced endurance of
her duty. She made sure the other city traffic kept moving while she had to
help clean up the mess and get it out of town.
With the help of several locals, they'd managed to get the cart upright. A
wheelwright had come from his shop a few streets away to replace the broken
wheel and then those who had been willing set to the task of reloading the
cart. Maggots had crawled along Shyne's fingers and blood had soiled her
nails as she'd helped throw offal back into the cart, holding her breath for
long periods as much as she could as her only defence against the stink.
She watched with disgust as some of the locals chose bits of animal spine
with tufts of rotting meat attached to steal away and boil for a hearty
soup. Once she would have been grateful for such a meal.
"You want some of this, darlin," one thin man asked her, holding up the
slippery intestines of some cow.
"I think I'll pass," she said softly, eyeing the offering with distate.
She hadn't eaten like that for quite a while now and she ate far better at
Ethan's house than she ever had. She didn't think she could ever go back to
that life now, the old one, starving and eating from trash and overturned
carts of offal. She would fight tooth and nail never to return to life on
the streets.
She finally watched the cart make it's way along the street with a shudder
and a wrinkled nose. She needed a bath desperately. Finally her assaulted
nostrils escaped the strength of the stench from the cart and it just mildly
wafted from her clothes and the cobbled street which allowed another scent
to find its way to her. Shyne sniffed the air. Fire! It was then the
screams began and hearing them close by she started to run. Not away but
towards the burning street to do her duty once more.
There was panic, people running and screaming and shops going up in the
dancing flameslike dry tinder.
"Is there anyone trapped inside?"
She grabbed a running woman, her hair aflame, and tossed her to the ground,
covering her with her filth soaked uniform to put out the fire.
The people were panicking, no-one seemed to be doing anything to quell the
surge of the flames. She heard agonised screams from one of the shops and
ran to help but she was beaten back by falling hunks of burning wood as the
entire structure crumbled.
"We have to stop it spreading, she screamed, her voice sounding oddly flat
and muffled against the crackling roar of the fire.
But those around her were too panicked, trying to save themselves and their
goods they ran about like headless chickens. One man valiantly attempted to
beat the flames with his cloak which was snatched at by the licking flames
and they reared angrily to burn his hands. He recoiled in screaming agony.
The spread of the fire needed to be stopped, much of Drache was built from
timber and a fire like this could spread quickly and have devastating
consequences. Shyne knew she couldn't do it alone.
She started running, her face soot blackened, her uniform burned and soiled,
she ran for help, screaming;
"Fire!" at the top of her voice. "Call out the guard!"
~~*~~
Anyone want to pick this up? Do we have the Great Fire of Drache?
JaxyS ;)
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