Isabel: Arisen Again

Author’s Note: Due to the fall of Legends of Sosaria, and due to the tyrant owners of that Unicorn shard, Isabel has found a new home over at UO Evolution. I’ll write a proper review soon, so let the fiction begin….

It wasn’t the first time. And it won’t be the last. Isabella rose from sleep. It was dark, she was in the woods covered in leaves, and the moon peaked through the naked limbs providing her with a lonely hunger. How long this time, were her first thoughts. How long did I lay here without a soul to car for me? Rising, she took in the jet-black hills, the shadows of the trees, the mice scampering in the nearby meadow. How many worlds had given her a moment of shock?

There were at least half-a-dozen instances when she went to sleep only to wake up in a different location, in a different time. Yes, this was Britannia, just as it always had been before, but the feeling was off, not right, out of the old loop.

When morning dawned, she was already dreading it, holed up in a quiet inn with just her and a sleeping tavern wench over in the corner. She was able to pilfer a few coins from the till, helped herself to some cheap brandy, and hoped the wench didn’t call the law on her for her theft. The wench’s throat quivered in a dream, and Isabella had the fantasy of ripping the woman’s throat open with her recessed fangs. However, to do so, to give in to temptation would end up in the same old fashion: Men with torches would come for her, lead by a few disgusting looking knights and one sweaty cleric who secretly wished to molest her instead of question her.

Such was life. “New here,” a tall, scruffy-headed man asked, as he drank on the wrong side of the bar.

“You must be Jaffrey,” Isabella said. “Word is your a wonder with the bow.”

“Has Mattie been lying again,” Jaffrey laughed, throwing a hardened roll at the sleeping wench.

“She thinks you’re a god.” Isabella smirked.

“That’s better,” he smiled, sinking his teeth into a moldy peach. “What? New in town? Want me to show you the ropes?”

“Any dungeon is a good dungeon,” Isabella smiled, keeping her lips partially closed.

“We’ll see about that one. You any good at killing lizard-men?”

“My favorite. You got a direction, just point.” “Let me get dressed first. We’ll go up north country, see what you are made of.”

“Just the usual,” she smiled again, drawing a curved dagger. “Save the bravado, we’ll see how good you are.”

So Isabella waited, thinking of Mattie.

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