Post by Reidra Findabhair on Aug 14, 2006 7:07:42 GMT -5
-----
Well,
Seeing how loads of family members from the clan are writing histories both big and small, I thought I'd contribute Redra's history a bit, so people understand her and possibly me- the person behind the computer.
I'll be starting at where Redra "remembers" more so than other things, she was found beaten in a prison cell in a run down penitentionary and things develope from there, eventually leading to joining the clan and so on.
-
I warn you, I can be graphic and/or long with describing things or writing long paragraphs that seem to have no end. Whether you get bored of reading is entirely your choice, and I wont take offence- This history/story is more for fun perposes and for those seeking more information on the personality and life of Redra. You have been warned, but warnings are ment to be chosen to heed or dismiss, up to you.
--
Enjoy reading, and you're all most certainly welcome to post OOC comments and constructive critism on my writing style and story.
Heartheart<3
Reidra Findabhair
----------
The Chained Exsistance
Prologue
Buffets resonated through hollowed corridors, an afflicting wail of pain harmonizing with an agonizing intonation of sorrow- hoarse cries unheeded by castigating crop to flesh. Audibly, the faint tink of manacles on stone blended into howls of loss. Osseus matter crusted the floor's leveling, unkempt and ignored for millenia; stones upturned or missing altogether making travel through passageways difficult.
Stench of decay and death harshly suffocated lungs, the fragrance both that of fresh and distinct wounds. Aromas of mildew, along with mould, concocted an imaculately nausiating odor- feint scent of the deceased's breath whispering upon your nape.
Even rodents found no home here.
Hallways were numbed, stillness only marred by the labored breathing of that of a woman- hoarse coughing following suit.
The dark residue of blood danced on the prison cell's bars before the exhaling sounds, vital fluid trailing from hall through cage's entry and caressing crestfallen remnants of bedding; what had appeared to once been straw. Caked on concretion of process - bone from deaths that passed - was littered throughout tiny space, eventually ending at ebony flesh of the living, a foot of the breathing woman located in the vertex of the alcove.
Chains donned fatale's ankles, rough wounds visable on twilight huen skin beneathe constricting wrought iron; blood clotted and unmoving from gaping injuries found. Confining cuffs held wrists together, a link of chain connecting from mid to mid on both anklets and bracelets- restricting movement to nothing more then slight shifting of weight; rock not comfortable to be seated on for so long.
A hole in the ceiling above the wounded dove of a woman, held little hope for escape, but just enough luminosity to allow the glint of gold eyes flicker in the moonlit cell. The draft in the hold was less stale than the hallways, but still swallowed up clean breezes like fog; freshness never lasted in the depth of dispair nor in the eyes of the living.
The opera of sword on sword exhausted the silence, bellows of men shouting in both victory and loss. Heavy clatters of armor on the stone hallways grew closer and closer until the sound of striking metal rang out. The lock fell. The cell the maiden was held in had it's door pried open and the manacles holding her in place were broken away. Strong arms picked up the frail lady - the sting of open wounds on frictioned armor held true, - carrying her away without word.
The dust of broken stone hung heavy in the empty air, debris of battle littering hallways; blood splattered up walls and across floors. The man who carried the injured soul never spoke, and kept a fast pace to reach the outside of the prison.
The woman was no longer aware of her surroundings, and eventually fainted into a coma, only to wake with the smile on a friendly face gazing at her.
<Updating history every short while.>
Well,
Seeing how loads of family members from the clan are writing histories both big and small, I thought I'd contribute Redra's history a bit, so people understand her and possibly me- the person behind the computer.
I'll be starting at where Redra "remembers" more so than other things, she was found beaten in a prison cell in a run down penitentionary and things develope from there, eventually leading to joining the clan and so on.
-
I warn you, I can be graphic and/or long with describing things or writing long paragraphs that seem to have no end. Whether you get bored of reading is entirely your choice, and I wont take offence- This history/story is more for fun perposes and for those seeking more information on the personality and life of Redra. You have been warned, but warnings are ment to be chosen to heed or dismiss, up to you.
--
Enjoy reading, and you're all most certainly welcome to post OOC comments and constructive critism on my writing style and story.
Heartheart<3
Reidra Findabhair
----------
The Chained Exsistance
Prologue
Buffets resonated through hollowed corridors, an afflicting wail of pain harmonizing with an agonizing intonation of sorrow- hoarse cries unheeded by castigating crop to flesh. Audibly, the faint tink of manacles on stone blended into howls of loss. Osseus matter crusted the floor's leveling, unkempt and ignored for millenia; stones upturned or missing altogether making travel through passageways difficult.
Stench of decay and death harshly suffocated lungs, the fragrance both that of fresh and distinct wounds. Aromas of mildew, along with mould, concocted an imaculately nausiating odor- feint scent of the deceased's breath whispering upon your nape.
Even rodents found no home here.
Hallways were numbed, stillness only marred by the labored breathing of that of a woman- hoarse coughing following suit.
The dark residue of blood danced on the prison cell's bars before the exhaling sounds, vital fluid trailing from hall through cage's entry and caressing crestfallen remnants of bedding; what had appeared to once been straw. Caked on concretion of process - bone from deaths that passed - was littered throughout tiny space, eventually ending at ebony flesh of the living, a foot of the breathing woman located in the vertex of the alcove.
Chains donned fatale's ankles, rough wounds visable on twilight huen skin beneathe constricting wrought iron; blood clotted and unmoving from gaping injuries found. Confining cuffs held wrists together, a link of chain connecting from mid to mid on both anklets and bracelets- restricting movement to nothing more then slight shifting of weight; rock not comfortable to be seated on for so long.
A hole in the ceiling above the wounded dove of a woman, held little hope for escape, but just enough luminosity to allow the glint of gold eyes flicker in the moonlit cell. The draft in the hold was less stale than the hallways, but still swallowed up clean breezes like fog; freshness never lasted in the depth of dispair nor in the eyes of the living.
The opera of sword on sword exhausted the silence, bellows of men shouting in both victory and loss. Heavy clatters of armor on the stone hallways grew closer and closer until the sound of striking metal rang out. The lock fell. The cell the maiden was held in had it's door pried open and the manacles holding her in place were broken away. Strong arms picked up the frail lady - the sting of open wounds on frictioned armor held true, - carrying her away without word.
The dust of broken stone hung heavy in the empty air, debris of battle littering hallways; blood splattered up walls and across floors. The man who carried the injured soul never spoke, and kept a fast pace to reach the outside of the prison.
The woman was no longer aware of her surroundings, and eventually fainted into a coma, only to wake with the smile on a friendly face gazing at her.
<Updating history every short while.>
