[2] Adrielle Jainrose: The Forsaken and my Friends

Cont. from: http://www.defiasrp.com/t6927-adrielle-jainrose-hillsbrad-onwards




Somewhere off in the distance of Hillsbrad a gryphon cried, the sound hung over the riding Regiment like a flag of inspiration. Everyone was a little happier that the boat trip had ended, some were more used to sailing than others, and everyone was more used to sailing than Adrielle. At one point during the trip she was certain she’d puked up a lung. Still tinged a tad green, she clutched the reigns of Peppermint and swayed in motion with the horses muffled steps on a wet dirt walkway. The men were certainly more giddier, considering there was whores in Menethil; “Nothing beats the woes of war like a good shag.” Bismack was fond of saying, not like Adrielle would know, she’d be twenty four this year and still a maiden, if she made it through this war to actually lay with a man. The thought made her frown and go red, she sunk a hand to her side to put it on her spell tome that was snugly fit in a setting for a book on her belt. Focus Addy told herself, and to hatch out of the shell of this bad mood she focused her attention to the skies above.

It was a beautiful clear day, you could see for miles - which was a welcome sight after treading on eggshells through the wetlands, not knowing if you were standing on a stick or a snake, and the mist was as high as the knee caps, she had to lead Peppermint along, as the low hanging fog spooked the mare. Adrielle stood in about four bogs, seven different types of poo and fell twice, and several times she felt something fuzzy brush by her ankles. She still felt a bit guilty for screaming. It drew everything nobody wanted near closer, and also frightened the living fel out of anyone feeling just as tense as she was.
However now it was easy riding. There was more in the numbers now, the Regiment met with the Freelancers on the way, a group of mixed people: historians, druids, traders, but all of them shared a common cause on desiring to defend the Alliance. A prospect that once frightened Adrielle, it was shameful to think of now, five years onward, after her father forced her to become a medic in the Regiment and the thought of fighting or the sight of blood used to make her knees buckle. This family deserves a bit of honour after all our years of just scraping by, and you’re going to be the one to do it, girl. The voice of Adrielle’s father rattled about her skull. At the time she wanted nothing more than to go back to her room, her cosy room with the cream and lemon walls, witchberries in a bowl by her bed, and an apple tree outside of her window that shielded her mornings from the glare of the Lakeshire sun in the summer months, but looking back now she was glad she’d left behind her apple tree, otherwise she wouldn’t have met all these wonderful people.

Smiling, she scanned the people that came to mind, saying their names to herself, Iriel Silversong, the high elf scout, a lithe, pretty, blonde little thing that was never lax of energy: Eninac Finn, wild as a bag of cats, Adrielle still hadn’t seen her in her human form yet, she wondered for a moment; watching Eninac pick something out of her teeth with a talon as she tried to put a human face to the head of a wolf. Her other friends were behind or ahead, she spotted Bismack and John leading the line, with bannermen carrying the Regiment’s rampant lion on a blue field, behind her were the others; Zelium Bloodfury, she told herself, walking onward in his armour with a determined look on his face, dusty from the travel. Then along from him Ravyne Winterstone, a cadet like Adrielle with a stutter, and Tarlin Hawthorne, he looked bored as ever. The rest were out of sight, all but two more familiar faces, Cathee Norris and The Commodore, Areyah Conover; she had a bony face, sharp eyes and a thin mouth made for frowning, but Cathee was living proof that perhaps once upon a time Areyah may have been fairer than she appeared now, as the mother and daughter were nigh identical, like mirror reflections of each other, only one showed youth and inexperience and other showed the complete opposite.

A strange whistling sound filled the air as Adrielle was lost in her thoughts. She spoke abruptly,
“Areyah.” The commodore lifted her head at the sound of her name, and then she heard it too because panic birthed in her eyes that slowly rose skyward to the sound.
It was a beautiful clear day.
“Take cover!” Areyah screamed, as arrows rained down from the baby blue sky and planted into the earth and bodies and horses. A maw of panic opened among the hundredths of men: everyone was running, but nobody knew where, people barged into each other and scrambled about under the rain of projectiles when they were knocked over, horses screamed and threw their riders, where others were shot down and crushed soldiers trying to run to safety.

Peppermint was no exception and reared up with a screech as multiple arrows thudded into her flank with a horrible wet thud, Adrielle’s hands grabbed for the saddle but her fingers just scathed it and missed as Peppermint grew further from reach, and she was falling in open air with nothing to grab onto, there was an instant of vertigo, a sickening lurch as the scene of panic flashed by until the ground rushed up to kiss her, the impact knocked the wind out of her when she landed on her back. Something fragile smashed in her bag, but that was the last she could remember, for as quick as she’d fell she was on her feet again, running, sprinting into the cover of a forest of thick pines that blanketed Hillsbrad in patches.

[[To Be Continued]]