I could feel it in the air. The heat from all the pyres just south of the village; the area around the Renterran camp. All the flames painted the black sky grey. I could feel the simmering sting, could taste the ash in my mouth as my lungs felt full. The whole village felt like something from the underworld, as if Hades from the Old World had come back to claim the souls of everyone caught in the war. The phantom devil sighed across the valley, his breath stirring flaccid leaves, bringing the acrid stench of burning flesh.
@Ivy there's some lovely (if that's the right word) imagery in your prose here; I particularly like the ash in the mouth and the flaccid leaves. More please!
A gust of wind There was a sharp bark and the sound of tiny feet moving very fast, and a black-and-tan blur raced down the length of the apse towards the nave. Pestilence turned and his eyes widened, then he stooped slightly holding his hands out and a hell-hound/chihuahua leapt into them. There was a moment of rearrangement and a soft growl and then she was tucked into the crook of his arm, sitting happily and regarding the church like it was her personal demesne. "Fam," said Famine. "I think she likes you." "Is that a good thing?" Scuffles trudged down the apse looking slightly concerned. When he saw the hell-hound nestled in Pestilence's arm he looked woebegone. "She's not supposed to run off," he said. "I called after her and she just didn't listen." War stepped out of the shadows behind Famine and Pestilence and glared at Scuffles. "You're not supposed to just run off," he said, his voice resonating nicely with the church's architecture. What would have been a deep, nearly sonorous voice harmonized with itself and became something musical, although there were still notes of brassy trumpets spurring armies to battle underneath it all. "I called after you, and it's like you didn't listen." Scuffles hung his head and looked guilty. Famine looked from Scuffles to the chihuahua and back again, and leaned closer to Pestilence. "I think we can tell who's wearing the pants in this relationship," he whispered. War and Scuffled both stared at him. "Oh," said Famine, smiling brightly. "I forgot everyone here has preternatural hearing. It's the dog, in case any of you were confused." Pestilence tried to smother his laughter and only partly succeeded so that he ended up snorting and choking and having to lean against the alter to keep his balance while he recovered. "Right," said War, when there was mostly silence. "We have our base of operations. This seems pleasant enough, and hopefully quiet enough that it'll be a week before my being here takes effect. What's the plan?" "Reconnaissance," said Pestilence. "The boss didn't tell us a whole lot when you think about it; we know that someone nearby is trying to resurrect the Infanta but there's a lot of nearby these days. It's not like it used to be, when 'someone nearby' meant 'there's six people over there and one of them is up to no good'. So we're going to have to spread out a bit -- there's four of us, just like the old days so we do a cardinal direction each -- and see what we can find. It can't be that hard to find traces of someone trying to reincarnate a horror from the fifteenth century." "Thirteenth," said Scuffles. "What he said," said Pestilence. "So, let's be like gusts of wind across the landscape and find her." "Three directions," said War. "You're taking Scuffles, remember?"
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I could feel it in the air. The heat from all the pyres just south of the village; the area around the Renterran camp. All the flames painted the black sky grey. I could feel the simmering sting, could taste the ash in my mouth as my lungs felt full. The whole village felt like something from the underworld, as if Hades from the Old World had come back to claim the souls of everyone caught in the war.
The phantom devil sighed across the valley, his breath stirring flaccid leaves, bringing the acrid stench of burning flesh.
@Ivy there's some lovely (if that's the right word) imagery in your prose here; I particularly like the ash in the mouth and the flaccid leaves. More please!
A gust of wind
There was a sharp bark and the sound of tiny feet moving very fast, and a black-and-tan blur raced down the length of the apse towards the nave. Pestilence turned and his eyes widened, then he stooped slightly holding his hands out and a hell-hound/chihuahua leapt into them. There was a moment of rearrangement and a soft growl and then she was tucked into the crook of his arm, sitting happily and regarding the church like it was her personal demesne.
"Fam," said Famine. "I think she likes you."
"Is that a good thing?"
Scuffles trudged down the apse looking slightly concerned. When he saw the hell-hound nestled in Pestilence's arm he looked woebegone.
"She's not supposed to run off," he said. "I called after her and she just didn't listen."
War stepped out of the shadows behind Famine and Pestilence and glared at Scuffles.
"You're not supposed to just run off," he said, his voice resonating nicely with the church's architecture. What would have been a deep, nearly sonorous voice harmonized with itself and became something musical, although there were still notes of brassy trumpets spurring armies to battle underneath it all. "I called after you, and it's like you didn't listen."
Scuffles hung his head and looked guilty. Famine looked from Scuffles to the chihuahua and back again, and leaned closer to Pestilence.
"I think we can tell who's wearing the pants in this relationship," he whispered.
War and Scuffled both stared at him.
"Oh," said Famine, smiling brightly. "I forgot everyone here has preternatural hearing. It's the dog, in case any of you were confused."
Pestilence tried to smother his laughter and only partly succeeded so that he ended up snorting and choking and having to lean against the alter to keep his balance while he recovered.
"Right," said War, when there was mostly silence. "We have our base of operations. This seems pleasant enough, and hopefully quiet enough that it'll be a week before my being here takes effect. What's the plan?"
"Reconnaissance," said Pestilence. "The boss didn't tell us a whole lot when you think about it; we know that someone nearby is trying to resurrect the Infanta but there's a lot of nearby these days. It's not like it used to be, when 'someone nearby' meant 'there's six people over there and one of them is up to no good'. So we're going to have to spread out a bit -- there's four of us, just like the old days so we do a cardinal direction each -- and see what we can find. It can't be that hard to find traces of someone trying to reincarnate a horror from the fifteenth century."
"Thirteenth," said Scuffles.
"What he said," said Pestilence. "So, let's be like gusts of wind across the landscape and find her."
"Three directions," said War. "You're taking Scuffles, remember?"
Ivy - very evocative writing. Felt like I was right there, smelling and seeing and feeling everything.
Greg - oh man, this was one of the best entries so far. Pest and Fame are delightful here, as is, to my great delight, the dog :D
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