Meridith at 20 Years Old

Meridith at Twenty Years Old

Meridith the Dwelf gripping her black iron war bar in both hands, stood tall. Twice as tall as her Dwarf mother in fact. Her statuesque physique is muscular. A tinge of cold permeated the air, fall was on the doorstep. Near the entirety of the village had gathered, purposely hemming in the villains.

The anger on her feminine, angular face (similar to her Elf Father's) would not be denied. The three stood trembling at her visible wrath. One was a woman herself, and her shrill voice was that of innocence, not having committed the dreadful deed personally. Death approached on booted, grinding feet. Three villains cowered and wailed as they waited their punishment. The gravel and dirt of the small main road was as dry as her forgiveness.

The woman, named Lexa, threw herself down upon the gray gravel, scratching her arms and knees. Pleading for her life, she begged again that it had not been her hand that had done the vile deed. Meridith, the pale coppery color of her skin meant to reflect the sun's heat of the far south. She swept her long and curly hair (a beautiful shade of rose) out of her crystal green eyes] strode to her first.

"He trusted you and you led him to his death. Your blame is twofold; enticement and apathy." The condemnation in her accusation tore like the teeth of a wolf.

The silent crowd stood stock still, the tension building. The warbar rose and fell with the strength of three strong men. Hair that had once been blondish and vainly brushed was splashed with red blood and gore. One of the two thugs, who thought no more of his victims than that of sheep to the slaughter, tried hard to bargain for his life.

The mastermind of the trio held out a handful of coins, some of the smaller coppers falling through his fingers into the gritty dirt. "Take it all, let me live."

Meridith gazed down into his bloodshot eyes and the glow of his aura emanated pure terror. Again, the war bar rose and fell. The blood of the ruined head mixed with the gray of the dirt as the Human crumpled into a heap.

The third of the villains was a Dwarf and strong, but he knew he stood no chance against death on two legs. He whirled on the balls of his feet and ran. Maybe he thought that a Dwelf so tall and strong was not quick. He was wrong of course, but her rage was beyond energetic tension. Taking a step and planting her foot, she hurled her fearsome weapon at the fleeing figure. The seven-foot staff of unyielding metal whirled in its flight. Horizontally, end for end it spun until the sharp crack of bone was heard in the stillness of the deep evening. The last villain lay still, and yet moaning in agony. Nary had a sound come from the crowd fascinated at the gruesome display.

Meridith walked slowly and deliberately to the prone Dwarf. He could not move, his spine broken and twisted, attesting to the fact before she approached. Turning the strong but fit body over onto its back she placed her large, booted foot onto his chest and pressed. Air escaped his lungs but could not re-enter. His mouth worked, his jade green eyes bulged, and an interminably long time later. he died a murderer.

The tension broke, a collective sigh burst from the crowd. The harbinger of doom stooped to retrieve her bloodied war bar and brazenly walked to the barn and the stall she had rented for the week Typical Human houses were not of her size, and no Dwarf home could ever fit her. As always, when not in the tall-tree-fitted pole houses in the Elf Communes of the far South, she slept where she could fit, like some cumbersome animal. At the yawning gulf of the livery s portal, she stopped and spoke ominously.

"See to the proper burial of my friend; Priest of Droshenko The money is yours to disperse as you see fit. I will keep none of it. Do what you wish with the villains.

The stable boy, seeing her beautiful face full of hatred and despair, ran past her into the street. Wrenching the huge barn door shut for privacy, a feat that usually took two full grown men, she moved to her appointed stall and the scruffy dog guarding her large pack and meager belongings. The smell of animals, hay and droppings was strong but irrelevant. Slumping onto her pack, her back against the strong, rough plank boards grabbed up the brown and white beast and held her tight and cried in sorrow.