Closed | Ladies Adventuring League #1

[coquettish_trees]

WHO: Evie, Freddie, Lexie, Gwen, Sonia, Wysteria
WHAT: Genteel ladies on their Nancy Drew + Tomb Raider + Babysitter's Club + Booze game
WHEN: Early Harvestmere
WHERE: A small ruin an hour's ride from Kirkwall
NOTES: Rated PG13 for some scenes of mild peril and rough unladylike language

One morning, it had been generally agreed upon that Kirkwall was a dour place that really could not be looked upon anymore that day lest a terrible ennui descend upon every single pair of delicately sloped shoulders.

And so, after a brief council, it was decided that a ride into the countryside for a picnic in the lovely crisp air was precisely what was called for. Baskets packed by servants, horses saddled by stableboys—or, in the case of the intrepid, by themselves—a procession of ladies departed the town in search of somewhere properly picturesque to spread themselves out and enjoy the day outside the grey walls.

Being as all are daring and fancy-free, the road is soon abandoned for the grassy low hills of the area, and it is at the top of one of these that a small and curiosity-piquing half-structure of stone is sighted, low enough between two hills that setting themselves up within it would save them from even having to see Kirkwall on the horizon. Besides, dear Freddie likes ruins, does she not? What lucky circumstance!

And so, the horses are tied in a small grove nearby, the blankets spread within the shelter of the ruin, the light repast unpacked, and perhaps most importantly, the wine poured. It promises to be precisely the kind of excursion that had been called for.

Comments

[heirring]

Poking about in dark, underground, long forgotten ruins had been well and good. Wysteria had, up until just a moment ago, honestly been enjoying herself immensely. Good food, a few nice drinks, pleasant company, some dusty old would-be tomb for exploring - what wasn't to like?

Well, strike the 'would-be' part from that earlier thought apparently. There's nothing quite like a few corpses rising from the places they'd fallen, skin drawn tight over bone like canvas on a a picture frame, and shambling into their circle of torchlight to take the afternoon on a rather more malicious turn.

Wysteria, level headed and sensible girl that she is, jumps two feet out of her skin and shrieks like a child as the first corpse shifts out of the darkness. Without thinking, she does the first and most automatic thing that occurs to her: she chucks her torch at the creature, the cobwebs and paper dry scraps of clothing hanging from its gaunt frame igniting like kindling.

[bouclier]

The curses that escape from Evie's mouth at the sight of the corpses are hardly befitting a lady or the company she's keeping, but half of them are in Orlesian so at least they sound nice. She is at least a chevalier who is always prepared, even if she doesn't have a shield she has her sword strapped to her side, and she draws it even as Wysteria throws her torch.

"I bloody hate dead things that keep moving. Ladies if you're ill-equipped to defend yourselves get behind me!" She doesn't spare the women a glance, striking out with her sword at one of the corpses not ablaze, sweeping it's head from it's shoulders in one motion.

[coquettish_trees]

Lexie would heavily disagree that her sister's curses are unladylike; it seems like an entirely fitting reaction for a proper woman of the peerage to have to horrible half-rotted suddenly upright and shambling grotesqueries.

One goes up in flames with an audible 'whoomph', the fire eagerly eating into its new tinder and throwing the rest of the cave into sudden chiaroscuro as it howls and stumbles forward, reaching. The brighter light reveals a third corpse just as the one Evie had summarily relieved of its head moves forward and takes a heavy (and now poorly-aimed) swing at her before falling to the stones beneath it.

For her part Lexie emits a high yip of surprise, is suddenly holding a quite lovely knife, and then is suddenly not holding a quite lovely knife anymore as it finds a new home buried in the throat of the now merrily burning creature. It's really too bad they don't have to breathe. And that she's also now regretting the trained reflex that has left her defenseless.

[heirring]

Wysteria's hand closes as a vice about Alexandrie's wrist. With a decisive (or panic stricken) tug and a few scrambling steps, she is hauling Lexie back behind the protective arc of Evie's sword arm. Heads roll. Corpses crumble. Wysteria lets out a dismayed squawking noise as the burning creature staggers toward them. Hand still about Lexie's wrist, she turns to resolutely-- flee up the corridor from whence they came, given the chance.