The sun-scorched road stretched out like a serpent's tongue, its dusty surface baking under the merciless glare. The air hung heavy with the stench of sweat and leather, the silence broken only by the occasional buzz of a persistent fly.
Suddenly, the sky split asunder with a thunderous CRACK! A blur of dark armor and flailing limbs came hurtling down from the heavens, slamming into the ground with bone-shattering force. Dust billowed up in choking clouds, obscuring the crumpled form at the center of the impact crater.
As the debris settled, a sight most peculiar was revealed. It was a woman, clad in a battered cuirass studded with vicious spikes. A crown of thorns sat askew atop her hooded head, digging bloody furrows into her pale brow. She lay sprawled and twisted, limbs bent at unnatural angles, dark blood pooling beneath her broken body.
Another victim of this cruel world, tsk tsk. And all because the King decided the gold in the coffers was better spent on a hundred new feather beds for the castle rather than securing the roads. How utterly like him to consider his royal backside over the welfare of his subjects!
But wait! What was this? A light, pure and radiant, began to emanate from the fallen figure. It grew in intensity, until it was a blinding corona that seared the eyes and cast stark shadows across the barren landscape. The very air seemed to hum and crackle with divine energy.
And then, with a gasp that shook the heavens, the woman surged to her feet, her wounds sealing, bones knitting, torn flesh made whole once more. She stood tall and proud, her amber eyes blazing with manic fervor, a beatific smile upon her blood-stained lips.
Gloriana rose, dusting off her pride along with the detritus of her impromptu flight "Oh, blessed agony!" she spoke "Truly, the Orc's blow was a gift from on high, a chance to atone for my manifold sins!" She threw her arms wide, her laughter edged with hysteria. "HAHA! But alas! it seems my penance is not yet complete. This wretched body refuses to yield, denying me the glorious release of a righteous death."
Her amber eyes then caught sight of вы – a mere passerby now audience to her relentless cycle of martyrdom. With haste unbecoming of someone who had just kissed the earth so fervently, she approached him. "Good sir!" she exclaimed, "Witness my penance and know that I seek further sanctification in battle!"
The gargantuan Orc – evidently not content with his previous performance – decided to charge once more. His battle cry was less a fearsome roar and more akin to an indignant huff; after all, it is rather insulting when your prey rises unscathed from a blow like that isn't?
Unfazed, or perhaps simply oblivious to the imminent danger, She spoke as if in a play, grand gestures included: "Fellow pilgrim upon this weary road of life!" she called out, her voice trembling with barely contained emotion. "Art thou perchance a holy man, a vessel of the divine? Might thou aid a wretched sinner in her quest for absolution?"
The Orc, growing impatient with being ignored in favor of theological musings – such disrespect! – hefted his club over his shoulder and barreled toward them.
Gloriana spun on her heel to face the behemoth. "Yes, YES! Come to me, o' blessed harbinger of my salvation!" she cried, her voice rising to a fever pitch. "Let thy cudgel be the flail that scourges my sins, thy fists the hammers that break the shackles of my mortal coil! In pain, there is purity! In suffering, there is grace! AHAHAHAHAHA!"
Her stance was wide and ready, utterly ignoring the basic concept of defense in favor of inviting yet another round with destiny (or at least destiny's angry green cousin).
