She was taking her body to the limit, speed and fury that knew no rival. The title of Demon Queen carries great weight with it, so the bearer must be prepared at all times to defend it, whether it be regicide from her rivals or the final quest of some arrogant adventurer.
She resumed her swordplay, pieces of burned wood flying aimlessly.
The dummy was scalded beyond recognition and the scent of scorched buloke filled the air, heavy and malign. A short ranged but intense blaze, strong enough to peel flesh off bone. Concentrating, she bent the rules of the realm to generate a small surge of flame that burst from her palm aimed right at the dummy. When thrusts and slashes got too tedious, she’d vary her attacks with castings black pyromancy, her specialty. Her body moist, her sweat trickling down her forehead, burning her eyes and the taste reaching her lips. She was clad in minimalist attire as to not impede her speed, just bare garments made from cultured Naga silk, covering her breasts and groin it stuck to her body, its presence totally unnoticeable, she was feeling as if she was fighting bare naked. A long hilt and cross-guard with a sizable blade made of refined mithril. Eraanthe’s strikes were fast and swift, which was nothing short of commendable given the fact that her chosen weapon for today’s session was Sinew, her trusty longsword, a cruel heap of metal responsible for the peril of many beasts and adventurers alike. The wooden dummy had seen much abuse its left arm was gone, its right one was partially ripped, and its face, once that of a handsome human, was now tarnished by deep sword cuts. Her eyes were a fiery emerald, and in that moment in time, radiated animalistic fury. She possessed the curved ram horns and the sickle pastern legs of her race.
A tiefling, a demon, her skin was a velvet smooth crimson, her hair a sickly shade of dark-emerald and was neatly tied back into a long tail, leaving a pair of bangs for both sides of her face. The home of murderers, abusers and pillagers. Her grunts and footsteps echoed across the castle, an acapella of violence and death.Įraanthe held the title of Demon Queen over the realm of Wrath, the dimension for those who were exceptionally violent in their waking, mortal lives. It seemed that the day would be like any other, not holding much promise of anything but mundanity and low expectations.