A Bloody Good Time May 1, 2019 0:28:59 GMT -6
Post by Alma on May 1, 2019 0:28:59 GMT -6
Hands Used: One
Damage: 1d4 (fire)
Dice Effect: None
Special Abilities: Hardy, Swim
The pit had been dug out and covered hours before, the long trailing stems of the creeping plants that had been growing there twisted into a sturdy net with that of the other crawling plants surrounding it. Not so sturdy that it could hold even her light weight, nor so deep as to do more than drop whatever fell in more than a few feet before finding ground beneath their feet once more. The shallowness of the pit had little to do with the difficulty of digging up the earth, more due to the same reason whatever fell in would not be met with the sharpened ends of bone and wood but a cushion of leaves. It had been dug in a good place as well, the plants there sightly flatter and thinner than the rest, a naturally growing bush of some thorny and flowering plant on one side to encourage a walker to stay on course, the other side relying on the intimidating form of the fence to herd the prey onto the almost-path.
Not prey though, she reminded herself, not in the usual sense or the pit would have been deeper and more treacherous, or replaced altogether with something that would cripple and maim it far better. She wanted the creature that would stumble into the pit, a soft-skin she hoped for the almost-trail suggested some manner of soft-skins wandered outside of the safety of their hive, to be scared, to lash out like a cornered beast rather than with harmless noises the city-kind were known for. Haix wanted blood to be spilled, not the worthless blood of some slave forced to die and die again until there was nothing left in them, and she would gladly shed her own and that of whatever foolish soft-skin thought itself brave enough to wander away from its hive.
Said foolish soft-skin had not appeared during the digging, nor in the first hour that followed. A part of her wanted to slide down from her perch in the branches that cloaked her in green and shadow, to force her way back through the thorny plants that had scratched at her scales and caught on her loincloth and dagger and screech a challenge to whatever beasts might prowl the fences for easy meals. That part of her was ignored as as she slowly shifted her body as a gust of wing shoot the other branches, taking the change to loosen some of the stiffness settling in her limbs. Something would come, soft-skin or beast, and she would be ready.