Written by F.D. Meister
Art done by (Unknown)
Alone on a secluded part of the desert, she walks alone. She was the first nomad to have a collection of over ten thousand warriors, all defeated.
After she was done with her victims, she would burn up their bodies and take the skulls of the dead warriors and add it to her massive trophy collection. A sacred place filled with her many secrets, which were sealed away from anyone who had not her blood.
Her family was killed off from an earlier part in her life, and she was forced to struggle and survive in the desert for all of her early life.
It was after years of struggling to survive on her own in the confusing desert that she stumbled upon dying nomads who happen to be old sorcerers too weak to perform any of his tasks. One of the nomads crawled their way over to her and offered her an old tome, resting it besides her dying body.
The nomad prayed over her body.
"Oh great and wise owl of great wisdom and knowledge, make this girl rise from the grave that tugs at her soul.
"Make her rise amongst the skies and endow unto her a small portion of your everlasting wisdom of sorcery to rain down terror upon our enemies like a vulchure to the dying animal who struggles to make its way across the desert.
"May you give her steps a walk of only destruction unto our enemies…
"That they may no to never mess with the Molechians ever again, and that we grow strong once again."
Once the mysterious hooded nomad had finished his prayer, they drop lifelessly to the desert sands and vanished like vapor into the skies, leaving the girl alone in the desert with the book. After weeks of remaining there, the vulchures began eating away at her fleshy remains.
She had not moved since that the nomads had left her here. Her skin began to decay, and her organs began to smell of a terrible odor, maggots were moving around and eating her from the inside out. The book still remained besides her, having not been touched since.
A wind passed, opening the old tome's pages for the first time and a great burst of light came out from its pages. The tongues of the great light wrapped around the decaying girl who was dead for a few weeks, and the nomad's prayer manifested itself in front of the young girl. The girl's soul could not be returned unto her body, but the body turned into a speechless woman who was only capable of doing destruction of the group of nomad's adversaries.
A nation of dangerous warriors was surrounded her. A warlord walked over to retrieve the book when it began to manifest with the girl, forming the woman in which all these men of war beheld with their eyes. Her beautiful flowing red hair and her armor of obsidian black had bewitched the men in the immediate area. Her bold beauty mystified them.
The three warlords who were recorded to have gone out with that army were strong and skilled in all ways of death. But two of the three broke under her beauty.
It was one warlord that went before her to challenge her to the death.
"Hand us the book or suffer the loss of your head," he demanded with a forceful voice. He stretched his hand with her palm opened out, waiting for the woman to give him the book.
The woman's eyes did not move, she came close the warlord and touched his helmet. The warlord was immobilized upon her touch. He tried to twist and turn, but he couldn't get away and his weapon dropped to the ground.
The woman levitated from off the ground and raised her right hand over her head and struck him down, slicing him in half. His guts were spilled across the desert ground.
"She killed one of our leaders! Slay her!" a man yelled.
The great army of men became angry, holding up their weapons and running towards the woman. They ran hard with the goal of claiming her head, but as they got within inches of rendering through her skin a mighty force of wind pushed them away. A few of them men who were in the immediate blast of wind were torn apart, their guts and blood had spilled all over the ground and soaked it.
The army began firing their arrows and throwing their tomahawks through the air. The weapons were useless as she used her sorcery to control each weapon that was thrown at her and have it float in the air around her. The men became terrified.
"What manner of sorcery is this?!" one of the men cried out.
"She is a witch! Let's flee, lest we all perish!" said another.
"Flee!" yet another warrior said running back. But all the men were to late and the woman made their escape pointless. She quickly broke away the ground, having thousands upon thousands of soldiers fall in. Afterwards, she would close up the earth and grind the men who were trapped in the pit.
Thousands more still gave chase, but the speechless woman looked at them and used the weapons that were thrown at her to render right through the flesh of her appointed adversaries. One by one Tomahawks were soaring through her enemies. Some were struck down through the back, others through their heads.
All of her killings left lakes of blood and guts, lying around as large heaps of food for a nation of vulchures to feast on.
She would peal the skin away off the skulls of all of her enemies and store them in a wide and hallow place deep within the earth as a collection for the nomads who had which for the destruction of the warriors which brought their great nation of sorcerers down to endangering numbers for a nation to even survive.
Even to this day she walks the desert still trying to find the warriors to whom she was appointed to kill. Her body will not rest unto all have been defeated and their skulls have been collected…
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