Hello hello ^O^

I want to try and revive this blog after abandoning it hmmmm… 5 years ago? Idk if anyone is still here omg :D

But anyway i’ll probably gonna start posting my art here again.

Just a little something I wrote for a class. It has very little editing but I kinda like where it’s going and I’ve started to put together a plot for some characters. Read it if you want and feel free to leave feedback if you feel like it. I have one other scene written and another under editing right now.

Warning: Descriptions of dead bodies and death in general start right below the cut.

The bodies were everywhere. Corpses lying twisted as they had fallen, gaping holes rent into armor, arrows sticking up every which way. The smell of death hung in the air. The sharp tang of blood and other bodily fluids was slowly giving way to burning flesh as survivors gathered the dead, stripped them of weapons and anything useful, then were tossed into the ever growing fires. Smoke twisted itself low across the field casting a haze into the fading light and beginning to obscure those walking around, all with fabric pulled up to cover noses and mouths. She wove her way across, sidestepping arms and legs and heads. The burning wreckage of the ships just barely staying afloat in the river behind her cast an eerie glow that messed with shadows on the ground. Someone had created a semblance of a path up ahead and she went to it, knowing where it would lead.

The armor she wore twisted uncomfortably and rubbed in several spots. That was to be expected though, seeing as it wasn’t made for her. Ignoring the discomfort that tried to invade each of her senses, she continued forward. The treeline was ahead and the girl could see torches marking the camp just beyond. Despite the battle having finished nearly an hour before, sentries still stood guard, their posture tall and alert. Their usually shining armor was covered with blood and dirt but the polearms each held were spotless as if they valued the weapons more than themselves. her own was strapped across her back and while she had wiped blood off, it was by no means clean yet. She kept her head lowered as she passed between and into the trees.

The smell of bodies was lessened in the woods as the smoke had to weave in between the graying branches and became caught up in the remaining leaves that still hung onto life. There were more people here tending to horses and each other. Grunts and shouts of pain came from a large tent that served as a healer’s station. People dashed around inside shouting orders and running to grab more supplies. One spotted her and tried to wave her in once they caught sight of the dried blood from the slice on her forehead, but she shook her head and continued on. Too busy to worry about a single person, the healer returned to the nearest patient.

Striding forward between tents and weapon racks, the main aisle became clear. A handful walked on it as well, pleased with victory yet still too busy to celebrate. They barely spared her a glance. At the center stood a larger tent, the sides rolled upward to expose a table covered in maps and figurines, partially obscured by the half dozen or so people around it who hurriedly pointed to icons and tried talking over one another.

At the head of the table sat the Queen. Still dressed from battle, Aquilla lounged in her chair, hair pulled back and sword lazily being twirled in her grasp, the point boring a miniscule hole into the ground. The newcomer couldn’t see her mouth or the set of her jaw because of the coverings everyone wore, but from her posture she could tell the Queen’s patience with her commanders was about to run out. She turned to the girl and beckoned her closer with a tilt of her head. She approached and tilted her own in acknowledgement.

“I assume you have a report,” Her voice was hard and ice shone in steel eyes. “Speak.”

“We are still gathering survivors and burning the dead. There is still no word on where they have run to but scouts continue to search,” She stood to her full height as she addressed the Queen, but met those cold steel eyes only as she finished speaking. Aquilla’s reaction was instantaneous, but the girl was faster.

In the blink of an eye, the polearm was in her hands and she swung. Their weapons crashed as the Queen raised her sword to meet the attack. Distantly she heard the commanders drawing blades and shouting, but was already rotating to swing again. Once more the hit was blocked, but the girl drew the knife from her belt and plunged it up into Aquilla’s heart. The Queen clawed out a hand to pull the cover off her face and the girl snarled her fury at her. She who had invaded her lands. She who had killed her people. She who had stolen her throne. But the girl was no longer just the rebel leader in the woods. As Aquilla’s blood seeped over her fingers, she cried her own victory and let fire shine from her eyes, and the mighty Queen Vega finally arose to take back her homeland.

Drawing the blade out, Aquilla fell at Vega’s feet. She stored the knife once again as she turned in the torchlight to face everyone left. Swinging the polearm around into position, she grinned at the sound of the approaching horns and shouts, ringing through the trees and across the fields. The moon peaked out from beyond the hills, and Vega moved.