Kari ran through the bamboo grove, her padded footfalls making not
a whisper of noise. Movement up ahead told her she was gaining. With a
shrill scraping sound, she drew her katana from its place at her side.
Up ahead, she could hear the men yelling as they ran. The words were
incomprehensible to her, complete gibberish, but she knew what they must
be screaming. She knew what she would be yelling if she were in their
place. The moonlight filtered through the bamboo trees and reflected off
Kari's blade in the darkness. Kari considered sheating her katana for
fear of being detected, but thought better of it, and kept running.
The two men stopped, utterly exhausted. Both leaned up against
trees, panting, with drops of sweat dripping from their thick brows. They
were from the west, with pale skin and rounded eyes. As one of the two
sat, his back to a tree, he sighed and asked the other a question. To
Kari, who was listening from about thirty feet away (and gaining), it
sounded something like this "blahblahblah, child blahblah,
motherblahblahblah." Kari was born in the west, and lived there for a
year or three before arriving in Kara-Tur, picking up minimal language
skills from the place. The first man finished his sentence, and then
looked up to his companion for a reply, and screamed aloud at what he saw.
The standing man started to raise an eyebrow in question, but was cut
short by a wicked blade, severing his head clean from his body. The
sitting man could do nothing but tremble, and babble something in his
strange language. As Kari kicked away the head of the slain one, she
advanced on the cowering man. She grabbed him by the hair with her free
hand, and forced his head down, so he gazed upon his own midsection. Then
she promptly slit his belly with her blade, the heat of the mans innards
creating a bit of steam in the cold night air. Dark red blood drenched
the mans tunic as Kari turned and walked away, her black silk jump suit
rustling as a gust of wind blew over her.
I would continue writing, but I'm tired, and song messages werent meant
for writing stuff like this anyways. Well maybe they were, but who cares,
I'm tired. Goodnight.
the end.
