Lord Atum
25-11-2004, 15:27
She ran through the woods, her breath ragged, not least from the physical exertion, but also form the still bleeding but partially cauterised wound in her flank. She hid behind a thick tree for a moment, breath rasping as she tried to inhale, something in her lungs almost making a rattling sound. Clutching her knees she leaned forward, control of her body quite beyond her, the wound was serious enough to cause all sorts of problems. She vomited, crying out involuntarily.
It would come.
She ran again, too frightened to care about the trail she was leaving from the vile puddle of bile and blood, wiping her bejewelled sleeve on the edge of her mouth absently as she ran through the woodlands. There was a sound in the distance, which to her acute senses, heightened by adrenaline and by alien means, sounded like the distant thudding of an axe against one of the broad redwood trees of the forest. The small rational part of her mind knew however what it was. Armoured boots of the killer that was coming for her.
It was coming.
With something between a wet thud and a small thunderclap, the tree she was running past exploded into flame as a bolt of low energy plasma hit it. Her head whipped around, and she saw the figure that was stalking her. Clad in black, from armoured and helmeted head to heavily booted toe, the hunter ran toward her, and time seemed to slow. She tripped across a fallen log, and exhaled blood into the soft loam, not noticing the jagged stone that had cut her temple.
It arrived.
A heavy boot on her back winded her, eliciting a scream of agony as the wound was pressed upon. Atal, former god to millions, turned, and in a last act of defiance, turned and spat on the warrior’s boot, “Who…” she gasped after a moment. The black armoured warrior leaned down, taking her neck in his grip of iron, “I am Kull. I serve Atum.”
“Impossibl…”
“Die now, and curse in vain.” The Kull Warrior raised his other arm to her face. There was a searing flash, and then all ended.
It would come.
She ran again, too frightened to care about the trail she was leaving from the vile puddle of bile and blood, wiping her bejewelled sleeve on the edge of her mouth absently as she ran through the woodlands. There was a sound in the distance, which to her acute senses, heightened by adrenaline and by alien means, sounded like the distant thudding of an axe against one of the broad redwood trees of the forest. The small rational part of her mind knew however what it was. Armoured boots of the killer that was coming for her.
It was coming.
With something between a wet thud and a small thunderclap, the tree she was running past exploded into flame as a bolt of low energy plasma hit it. Her head whipped around, and she saw the figure that was stalking her. Clad in black, from armoured and helmeted head to heavily booted toe, the hunter ran toward her, and time seemed to slow. She tripped across a fallen log, and exhaled blood into the soft loam, not noticing the jagged stone that had cut her temple.
It arrived.
A heavy boot on her back winded her, eliciting a scream of agony as the wound was pressed upon. Atal, former god to millions, turned, and in a last act of defiance, turned and spat on the warrior’s boot, “Who…” she gasped after a moment. The black armoured warrior leaned down, taking her neck in his grip of iron, “I am Kull. I serve Atum.”
“Impossibl…”
“Die now, and curse in vain.” The Kull Warrior raised his other arm to her face. There was a searing flash, and then all ended.