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VivienWhite
---
Brush and undergrowth had always made her skin itch. To her, it would sometimes feel like a creeping embrace, similar to that of being watched in the dark. But she and her company were the ones watching this evening. Below them laid that chilled brick housing of mechanisms which was the source of their interest.
“Eight guards, by our count,” said the point man from a smaller group which had just arrived.
“Hrmf. Parliament has only held up one promise, it seems,” spoke another man at the front whose eyes never broke from the building. “If we are quick, and incapacitate the watchman before he signals any others, we could easily avoid a single injury.”
The head scout gave a frown of concern, but his eye spoke more decisively of respect. “We will see what we can do,” he acknowledged, “wait for-”
“We will notice if you fail,” asserted the captain. After which, the man nodded before a turn back down the hill with his men.
Kallie shifted uneasily with hammer handle in hand.
One of the men standing tall next to her blurted out in notice, “you even able to lift that thing? Haha! You could still run off and find yourself a house to look after if this is too frightening for you!”
With a feigned snarl, she gripped the handle with both hands to demonstrate her capability. She was interrupted before she could speak, however.
“Alright, we’ve waited long enough,” the captain claimed, seemingly in an attempt shift the tension onto something else. “If they were dead, we’d know by now. Let us move.”
They drug down the hill with their blunt utensils in tow. Some had expressions of zeal across their faces, others an amount of fear, others still a blank look of determination. The single sentinel by the side door they intended to infiltrate was easily subdued with a jump from the moonlit bushes. The captain motioned to the man holding the guard by the throat to loosen his grasp.
“He is only doing his job. Knock him out,” he spoke.
The grappling man nodded and relaxed to a point just strong enough to ensure lack of consciousness. Kallie begun raising her metal towards the door handle before being cut off by another man who finished the act more quickly. Disappointment fell upon her as the others stormed into the building to begin their destructive raid. She sulked in behind them, rallying herself on the way to restore her hidden enthusiasm.
With graceful pacing around the first rooms, she found herself a loom which had not yet been dismantled by her colleagues. She rubbed her hand over it sentimentally. But, sentiments could not last forever. She raised her arms up with the weight over them. Stepping forward, she threw her arms in front. Unfortunately, to the dismay of her pent-up frustration, a bloody scream was heard from an adjacent room, which caused her to falter and miss her target. She herself made her own grumbling shout in response, but she knew that the scream she heard could not have been over something negligible. Indeed, even more cries were heard from the same direction. Her posture straightened up from her sulk as she made her way in the direction of the disturbance.
She stepped through the doorway, expecting one of the men to have crushed his own foot. However, that hypothesis was quickly discarded once witnessing a nine-foot-tall beast of a wolf at the far end of the hallway ripping away at the same man who insulted her resolve. While she resented any man who would made ill remarks about her character, she would have never wished this upon him. The other luddites ran towards her just as the monster was finishing his ‘meal’. As they passed her, all she could do was stand, even with multiple men briefly attempting to snap her out of it. She stood in a moment of relative silence with the cold night air making drafts through the broken windows. That single second would feel like an eternity to an observer and, perhaps especially, to her. She could feel her fellow acquaintances flee behind her, as if she had eyes in the back of her head. It was clear that the best course of action for survival would be running, a beast such as this which previously would only be present to her in a nightmare could certainly have the capacity to outrun any of them. Even still, she had always been good at outrunning her problems.
A seemingly infinite moment. To her though, no hesitation. She did not think, she felt. She felt blood rushing through her like a river. In that moment, not one remote tinge of fear was present in her outward appearance, despite it cutting deeply within her soul. With her destructive hammer being picked up in both hands, she took three mighty steps forward towards the beast and released the mightiest shout her short stature would allow.
The beast seemed almost taken aback, if not for its feral features which hide most human resemblance. Indeed, though, he shouted back with a resonant, growling howl. Neither party moved from its place. A minute passed before he would be the first to break the morbid picturesque scene. When he finally reached her, he went to slap a slender fingered paw at her. With all her weight, she planted her feet firmly on the ground against the direction of the attack, holding the handle of her hammer perpendicular versus the swing. In a fantastic anticlimactic flash, the clawed hand hit the handle sharply, but only pushed her back a foot. The beast huffed in frustration. He made a swing with his other arm, which was easily dodged by a back-step from the short luddite. Using the additional momentum from the back-step, she swung her hammer around counter clockwise into the beast with a frontal step. Being lighter on its feet than expected, the beast dodged most of the swing. The rough edge the top of the head provided just enough bite to cut into the monster’s chest, slinging scraps of fur and splatters of blood off to the side.
The beast was, needless to say, unamused. It growled and quickly slashed its right arm at her, cutting into her chest and just barely missing the major vessels in her neck. A half second after, the beast smacked her with his left arm catching her ungrounded and sending her off to the side. She laid there belly down in a growing pool of her own blood. The pain was endured quietly, for at least one of her lungs had collapsed from either the impact of the massive paw, or from hitting the ground. Whilst she laid there, unable to breath, the beast who seemed content with the damage he had done begun wandering off towards the passage way that the mob had left through.
Exhaustion had already been setting in, and with her condition there would have been no sane doctor to say she would survive. But, with the last ounce of oxygen left in her, she set her left hand firmly on the ground and pushed with whatever strength she had left. It was enough.
Now laying on her back, she was able to find shallow breaths. She did so until she could manage one cough. That one cough seemed to set a few things back in place, or perhaps, wake her up from a pain induced trance which borders territory with death. In either respect, sensibility came back to her. First, she sat up while dragging her hammer closer to her. Next, she used its handle to brace herself for the uncomfortable process of standing up. Fire ran through her veins, either from additional adrenaline, pain, or something else entirely. She slammed the hammer down onto the ground and let out yet another weaker, yet very much grungier battle cry. She would not yet be finished.
The beast stopped, stood slightly more erect, and stomped around in place. He glared at her intensely with yellow eyes. One might have almost been able to detect a faint amount of amusement beyond his bestial form. He begun making seven strides towards her, as she made nine steps towards him with as much of a steady and purposeful pace as her internal injuries would allow.
On his last step, he walked into a swipe at her with his right arm. Anticipating this, she leaned back in the middle of her final step, bracing her hammer against the ground behind her. The towering wolf’s slice at her neck missed entirely. Throwing herself forward to finish that closing step, she planted her left foot firmly on the ground, and used her right foot to push all the mechanical energy she possibly could into an upward swing of the hammer. The head of it met his directly.
The follow-through on her swing was flawless, but unfortunately her grip was not. The twist in her side incited too much pain for her hands to remain tight. Leaning over in deep breaths, she felt satisfied whilst believing surely that would knock out even such a beast. It was not enough.
He had not even been felled. He staggered a couple of paces and seemed to be missing a fang, but nonetheless was not even close to finished. Arms stretched out to his lower sides, he bellowed a howl upwards. He was not amused.
After a deep sigh, she stood and once again regained her composure to face her seemingly indestructible opponent. In typical Irish fashion, she raised her clenched fists, nonchalant to the fact that her small arms alone would do absolutely nothing. With him stepping forward, she landed a punch right in the spot of his torso that held the injury from the first swing of the hammer. To no surprise of her own, nothing happened.
Retaining zero patience, the beast picked her up with both arms. He let out an open mouth growl, dripping blood and saliva onto her body. Though, shocking her, he did nothing but stare straight into the windows of her spirit. The anticipation was killing her much more slowly than she imagined he might at any coming second. She only returned a hateful look that would seem to say, “just do it, then.” Still, he stared. After a familiar, but far less ardent moment than the one only minutes earlier, he simply dropped her. He dropped her without much grace, however. She landed awkwardly, spraining her joints. After which, he merely walked off towards the archway a second time.
“That it? Hey!” She shouted at him, making further attempts to rally him to return while crawling over to her hammer.
None of her calls grabbed his attention. She wondered to herself if the impact to his skull resulted in injury to his mind. In less than a minute, he was out of sight with apparent disinterest in pursuing her or anyone else. Then, seemingly as if her body were aware the threat was gone (or due to blood loss), her crawl ended, and her torso fell flat against the cold ground. Unconscious.
December 7th, 1813. The beginning is a bright night indeed.
---
And here we have a second iconic piece of artwork for my character, Kallie Woodside, done by the lovely VivienWhite. Here, Kallie is seen still 'human' (not a werewolf). Forgive any grammatical errors in the snippet, but do point them out if you see any!
Should this be mature for blood? asdf
VivienWhite---
Brush and undergrowth had always made her skin itch. To her, it would sometimes feel like a creeping embrace, similar to that of being watched in the dark. But she and her company were the ones watching this evening. Below them laid that chilled brick housing of mechanisms which was the source of their interest.
“Eight guards, by our count,” said the point man from a smaller group which had just arrived.
“Hrmf. Parliament has only held up one promise, it seems,” spoke another man at the front whose eyes never broke from the building. “If we are quick, and incapacitate the watchman before he signals any others, we could easily avoid a single injury.”
The head scout gave a frown of concern, but his eye spoke more decisively of respect. “We will see what we can do,” he acknowledged, “wait for-”
“We will notice if you fail,” asserted the captain. After which, the man nodded before a turn back down the hill with his men.
. . .Kallie shifted uneasily with hammer handle in hand.
One of the men standing tall next to her blurted out in notice, “you even able to lift that thing? Haha! You could still run off and find yourself a house to look after if this is too frightening for you!”
With a feigned snarl, she gripped the handle with both hands to demonstrate her capability. She was interrupted before she could speak, however.
“Alright, we’ve waited long enough,” the captain claimed, seemingly in an attempt shift the tension onto something else. “If they were dead, we’d know by now. Let us move.”
They drug down the hill with their blunt utensils in tow. Some had expressions of zeal across their faces, others an amount of fear, others still a blank look of determination. The single sentinel by the side door they intended to infiltrate was easily subdued with a jump from the moonlit bushes. The captain motioned to the man holding the guard by the throat to loosen his grasp.
“He is only doing his job. Knock him out,” he spoke.
The grappling man nodded and relaxed to a point just strong enough to ensure lack of consciousness. Kallie begun raising her metal towards the door handle before being cut off by another man who finished the act more quickly. Disappointment fell upon her as the others stormed into the building to begin their destructive raid. She sulked in behind them, rallying herself on the way to restore her hidden enthusiasm.
With graceful pacing around the first rooms, she found herself a loom which had not yet been dismantled by her colleagues. She rubbed her hand over it sentimentally. But, sentiments could not last forever. She raised her arms up with the weight over them. Stepping forward, she threw her arms in front. Unfortunately, to the dismay of her pent-up frustration, a bloody scream was heard from an adjacent room, which caused her to falter and miss her target. She herself made her own grumbling shout in response, but she knew that the scream she heard could not have been over something negligible. Indeed, even more cries were heard from the same direction. Her posture straightened up from her sulk as she made her way in the direction of the disturbance.
She stepped through the doorway, expecting one of the men to have crushed his own foot. However, that hypothesis was quickly discarded once witnessing a nine-foot-tall beast of a wolf at the far end of the hallway ripping away at the same man who insulted her resolve. While she resented any man who would made ill remarks about her character, she would have never wished this upon him. The other luddites ran towards her just as the monster was finishing his ‘meal’. As they passed her, all she could do was stand, even with multiple men briefly attempting to snap her out of it. She stood in a moment of relative silence with the cold night air making drafts through the broken windows. That single second would feel like an eternity to an observer and, perhaps especially, to her. She could feel her fellow acquaintances flee behind her, as if she had eyes in the back of her head. It was clear that the best course of action for survival would be running, a beast such as this which previously would only be present to her in a nightmare could certainly have the capacity to outrun any of them. Even still, she had always been good at outrunning her problems.
A seemingly infinite moment. To her though, no hesitation. She did not think, she felt. She felt blood rushing through her like a river. In that moment, not one remote tinge of fear was present in her outward appearance, despite it cutting deeply within her soul. With her destructive hammer being picked up in both hands, she took three mighty steps forward towards the beast and released the mightiest shout her short stature would allow.
The beast seemed almost taken aback, if not for its feral features which hide most human resemblance. Indeed, though, he shouted back with a resonant, growling howl. Neither party moved from its place. A minute passed before he would be the first to break the morbid picturesque scene. When he finally reached her, he went to slap a slender fingered paw at her. With all her weight, she planted her feet firmly on the ground against the direction of the attack, holding the handle of her hammer perpendicular versus the swing. In a fantastic anticlimactic flash, the clawed hand hit the handle sharply, but only pushed her back a foot. The beast huffed in frustration. He made a swing with his other arm, which was easily dodged by a back-step from the short luddite. Using the additional momentum from the back-step, she swung her hammer around counter clockwise into the beast with a frontal step. Being lighter on its feet than expected, the beast dodged most of the swing. The rough edge the top of the head provided just enough bite to cut into the monster’s chest, slinging scraps of fur and splatters of blood off to the side.
The beast was, needless to say, unamused. It growled and quickly slashed its right arm at her, cutting into her chest and just barely missing the major vessels in her neck. A half second after, the beast smacked her with his left arm catching her ungrounded and sending her off to the side. She laid there belly down in a growing pool of her own blood. The pain was endured quietly, for at least one of her lungs had collapsed from either the impact of the massive paw, or from hitting the ground. Whilst she laid there, unable to breath, the beast who seemed content with the damage he had done begun wandering off towards the passage way that the mob had left through.
Exhaustion had already been setting in, and with her condition there would have been no sane doctor to say she would survive. But, with the last ounce of oxygen left in her, she set her left hand firmly on the ground and pushed with whatever strength she had left. It was enough.
Now laying on her back, she was able to find shallow breaths. She did so until she could manage one cough. That one cough seemed to set a few things back in place, or perhaps, wake her up from a pain induced trance which borders territory with death. In either respect, sensibility came back to her. First, she sat up while dragging her hammer closer to her. Next, she used its handle to brace herself for the uncomfortable process of standing up. Fire ran through her veins, either from additional adrenaline, pain, or something else entirely. She slammed the hammer down onto the ground and let out yet another weaker, yet very much grungier battle cry. She would not yet be finished.
The beast stopped, stood slightly more erect, and stomped around in place. He glared at her intensely with yellow eyes. One might have almost been able to detect a faint amount of amusement beyond his bestial form. He begun making seven strides towards her, as she made nine steps towards him with as much of a steady and purposeful pace as her internal injuries would allow.
On his last step, he walked into a swipe at her with his right arm. Anticipating this, she leaned back in the middle of her final step, bracing her hammer against the ground behind her. The towering wolf’s slice at her neck missed entirely. Throwing herself forward to finish that closing step, she planted her left foot firmly on the ground, and used her right foot to push all the mechanical energy she possibly could into an upward swing of the hammer. The head of it met his directly.
The follow-through on her swing was flawless, but unfortunately her grip was not. The twist in her side incited too much pain for her hands to remain tight. Leaning over in deep breaths, she felt satisfied whilst believing surely that would knock out even such a beast. It was not enough.
He had not even been felled. He staggered a couple of paces and seemed to be missing a fang, but nonetheless was not even close to finished. Arms stretched out to his lower sides, he bellowed a howl upwards. He was not amused.
After a deep sigh, she stood and once again regained her composure to face her seemingly indestructible opponent. In typical Irish fashion, she raised her clenched fists, nonchalant to the fact that her small arms alone would do absolutely nothing. With him stepping forward, she landed a punch right in the spot of his torso that held the injury from the first swing of the hammer. To no surprise of her own, nothing happened.
Retaining zero patience, the beast picked her up with both arms. He let out an open mouth growl, dripping blood and saliva onto her body. Though, shocking her, he did nothing but stare straight into the windows of her spirit. The anticipation was killing her much more slowly than she imagined he might at any coming second. She only returned a hateful look that would seem to say, “just do it, then.” Still, he stared. After a familiar, but far less ardent moment than the one only minutes earlier, he simply dropped her. He dropped her without much grace, however. She landed awkwardly, spraining her joints. After which, he merely walked off towards the archway a second time.
“That it? Hey!” She shouted at him, making further attempts to rally him to return while crawling over to her hammer.
None of her calls grabbed his attention. She wondered to herself if the impact to his skull resulted in injury to his mind. In less than a minute, he was out of sight with apparent disinterest in pursuing her or anyone else. Then, seemingly as if her body were aware the threat was gone (or due to blood loss), her crawl ended, and her torso fell flat against the cold ground. Unconscious.
. . .December 7th, 1813. The beginning is a bright night indeed.
---
And here we have a second iconic piece of artwork for my character, Kallie Woodside, done by the lovely VivienWhite. Here, Kallie is seen still 'human' (not a werewolf). Forgive any grammatical errors in the snippet, but do point them out if you see any!
Should this be mature for blood? asdf
Category Artwork (Digital) / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 1280 x 878px
File Size 115.2 kB
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