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@obrian-of-the-surface-world

That character is terrifying! Great job!

Lemme see, right now there are: My character, Chantara (female), an assassin, who switches between false personas every few seconds.

@skylarynn ‘s characters:  Þorunn (female) a shieldmaiden with serious anger issues, and Karayan (male) a feline vampire whose sole purpose is to eat cookies sarcastically and make sure nobody’s ego gets ahead of them.

@this-is-not-an-alien ‘s characters: Meira (female) who is definitely not a villain and actually way too endearing for anyone to hate, and Connel (male) who owns a miniature dragon and– where is he? Well, he’s either moping or planning a murder. Odds are about 50/50.

@erynne ‘s character: Dominic (male) a mad scientist who is currently trying to manipulate Meira, but I don’t think it’s working XD

@hannahrenner ‘s character: Grimme (female) who is kinda all-knowing, and invisible. As you do.

@kimlikesart ‘s character: Aadipta (male) who just arrived and hasn’t really interacted with the others yet. (Hey, Kimmi, are you still around? Haven’t seen you in a while.)

Anyway, the current situation involves a goose with unknown powers (least if which is being exceptionally nippy), complete darkness, and trying to catch Grimme, who is currently angry and invisible, if I remember correctly.

Oh, and Chantara is trying to kill Þorunn. Which is not going as planned. At all. XD

 

Chantara

Strong fingers clasped around my wrist, wrenching it away from her throat. Too late. Should have been quicker.

Useless.

Þorunn wheeled free of my grasp, so fast she must have been prepared. I leaned back, trying to wrench free, but she grabbed me and hurled me over her shoulder. My feet left the ground.

Crack. Thud. My shoulderblades pounded the marble. Pulses of pain throbbed through me. My chest was empty, useless. I gasped for breath.

Useless. Failure.

My arm was throbbing. She hadn’t let go.

Failure. Weapon.

A boot dug into my back, twisting into my spine, the hard pressure driving the last breath out of my lungs. I had to breathe. I couldn’t.

Weapon. Broken.

A twist, further and further. The pain turned from throbbing to burning, from burning to shards of agony. I gave a small gasp. An explosion of bright pain crackled in front of my eyes. I barely recognized the sound I made. A soft whine, like a kicked kitten. That wasn’t me. It couldn’t be.

Broken. Helpless.

My dagger plummeted to the ground, but with a final wrench, I felt my shoulder dislocate. Red pain. Crackling pink and burning bright. White pain. Black pain.

Far away. A distant echo.

“Who are you?” A snarling hiss, filled with hatred.

Helpless. Too weak.

No matter what. Always too weak.

Even further away. So quiet, like a waterfall in the mountains. Kezbe, my home tongue. No, not home. I don’t have a home.

“My dear Chantara. It is probably unwise to attack the most battle-hardened of our lot, especially one of the Nors.  Besides, she is visible.  I don’t think she’s the one we’re supposed to be seeking.”

I didn’t seek her. I had never thought it was her. I didn’t care. I needed her dead.

My arm throbbed, begging me to give in. It would be so easy. Another whine, a stammered name, an apology. Whatever she decided to inflict on me, I had probably faced worse.

No. I could never be weak. Weakness was disgrace and death.

My left hand snatched at the knife on my thigh. The chill of metal pulsed up my skin.

Not helpless. Never again.

I curled up, the pain from my arm pulsing through me and settling in my stomach. My breath was only short, uneven gasps.

I unleashed a kick, aiming at her one foot still on the ground. She swept off her feet, landing next to me with a heavy thud. Another wrench of my arm and darkness crumpled my vision. I pushed it back.

My dagger jumped into my palm, then I plunged it down, where her hand met my wrist. Resistance, the heavy difficulty as it found its mark. A roar from Þorunn and another surge of pain as my arm fell down, helpless. I didn’t let go of the dagger but yanked it out of her wrist. If I was lucky, she’d bleed to death. If I wasn’t, she was still mad with pain and couldn’t use her right hand.

Not broken. I wouldn’t be.

To my knees, then standing. My arm still useless, but my left was as good as my right. My skill with both had never been more useful. (Note: Chantara is ambidextrous)

I scrambled backward, in case Þorunn tried to attack again. I heard a scrabble as she raised herself to her knees. I drew my shoulders inward, my back arching like an angry cat. Now I made a sound. Not like the kicked kitten of earlier, but a whirring hiss of fury, like a lethal cobra.

Not a failure. Always a weapon. Nothing more.

My scraps of humanity whimpered, then whithered as I ground them down with my heel.

I curled myself into a kick, aimed at her head. I braced myself for the impact, but the collision always caught me by surprise. I spun around, getting my balance. A sharp crack as Þorunn hit the ground again. I pounced.

I ground my knee into her wounded arm, and placed the other on her chest, crushing her to the ground.

I flipped my knife around and brought it down to her throat.

Not useless. Usefulness was life. A sharp smile wrenched at me. What life? I had lost my life the day I agreed to join the Siya. I would never be more than this. A weapon to be wielded by others.

Inhuman.

Inhuman.

Inhuman.

_________

@skylarynn

Yay, glad you got a new one! Yeah, Chantara’s also had her share of hand-to-hand combat XD Can’t wait to see what you come up with!

______

I kinda tried a new style with this (Mostly inspired by your Character Castle 2.0 ‘dream’ posts, @this-is-not-an-alien , and also a bit by @hannahrenner ‘s posts on here.) I don’t know that I’d ever really use this format, but it was fun to write!