Hi all,

Something a little different today. This is a small vignette from a game world I created some thirty years ago. It is not Warhammer-based, though it is strongly influenced by the mythos of 40K and the original Warhammer Fantasy.

It's quite a personal piece. I have struggled with addiction in the past. The whys, wherefores, and whats are not really appropriate for this board, so, respectfully, I won't be discussing them.

What I have made, what I have finally summoned the courage to do, is to put it into, albeit briefly, a passage of writing, couched in my own fantasy world. I do hope some of you enjoy this and, maybe, it'll touch a nerve with some of you.

For context:

- the species are known as Shantra G'La. They are, essentially, minotaurs.

- a Spirit Walker is a kind of cleric, but less focus on the holy side of things and more on the being a guide, a protector.

- an Embermage is a fire wizard.
- the species is haunted by the Rage and it a shameful act to fall to it. A Shantra G'La under the effect of the Rage forgoes all reason and sanity and unleashes its fury on anyone nearby, friend or foe. Those who fall often recede from society, such is the shame.

- I'll be honest, the metaphor is a little on the nose, but if you or anyone you know has faced the same battle, you will understand.

Thoughts and constructive criticism most welcome, as always.

Anyhow, here we go...

She stood on the makeshift ramparts guarding the pass. The mercenaries hired by Tuomas had been steadily making ground toward them for the past tenday. Her brothers and sisters, warriors, had defended and fought them back for all that time. But, now it had come time to put a stop to it; so they unleashed her. She watched as they charged. Her kin stood ready to receive. But, she was here to ensure that wave crashed against a flaming shore.
 

She closed her eyes; breathed. She could feel the heat in her lungs. In her left hand, her G'La-Eve. Her right, tensed like a claw. She breathed out, a slight shudder to her breath. She could feel them rising now, coiling up around her hooves, her shanks. Ahh, there they were.
 

She inclined her head backward a little as the first whispers came, 'We are so glad to see you again,' 'Let us give you the strength to overcome.'
 

Her heart warmed and she felt her body relax. That familiar feeling.
 

She smiled to herself. The tension loosened from her shoulders and she breathed in deeply. The fire elementals followed, drawn in through her nostrils and exhaled between her lips. She was there, now. Her legs felt less heavy, her grip stronger.
 

She eyed the approaching warriors but could not focus on them entirely. It did not matter; she would take them all. She began to cast. Fire swirled around her fingers and forearms. The whispers subsided briefly, waiting and watching.
 

She raised her right hand, fire blossomed above her palm. She hurled the nascent ball of fire at her enemy. It streaked across the valley and exploded amidst the charging mercenaries. Bodies flew and the survivors ran aflame.
 

She smiled.
 

Nearby, Ashtai's iridescent tattoos flared. He turned his gaze toward her and his expression dulled. He made toward her.
 

Bahtra spread her arms wide, her G'La Eve aflame, her other hand simmering with heat. She breathed deeply, her mind wandering to other, better times.
 

Ashtai approached her. "Bahtra. Bahtra. Come. Come with me."
 

Bahtra snapped out of her reverie. "Ashtai? Oh, I have missed you." She looked at him, but her eyes were unfocused. She smiled at him, reaching to put a hand on his shoulder.
 

Ashtai instinctively stepped back from the searing heat of her touch.
 

Bahtra's expression hardened. "I am not good enough for you?"
 

"This is not you, Bahtra."
 

"It is me. Can you not feel it?," she beckoned him to her.
 

Ashtai moved toward her, "Bahtra, please. Come with me." He smiled even as his tattoos flared.
 

"Can you not see it?" Fiery spirits coiled around her torso, her neck, her wrists. She idly tossed a flame to the ground. She smiled again, her eyes blazing crimson.
 

"Bahtra, please..."
 

Her expression hardened again. "No." A ball of flame kindled in her hand. She clenched her teeth. She flung it at him.
 

Ashtai took the blow square in the chest, his tattoos blossomed into blue, shimmering stars as the impact flung him backward.
 

He crumpled against a tree trunk, his bleached white fur singed, the breath knocked out of his lungs. He raised his head to watch Bahtra flinging balls of fire at anything that moved, her expression a mixture of rage and pleasure. He looked with sadness. She was lost.