Fire Descriptive Writing
While the mob and their torches believe I am still on the other side of their camp, I waste no time in setting off my last great plan for this morning. While it may be true that they dug their fires into pits in the ground to hide from me, they will regret making it so easy for me to access them. Gripping my filth ridden rod tightly I make a final jab, into their very own fire pit, striking it as though it were one of the petty brigands. It doesn't take very long for the rod to become engulfed in fire, transforming half of the rancid shaft into its own sphere of flame. Yes, this will do, "More than enough fire." I anxiously whisper to myself. It would be unfortunate if someone like myself were to accidentally touch a tent or three with a torch like this. As I point the flame towards the thinly woven leather, the sounds of blissful breathing become more and more louder to my sharpened ears. The noise of their obnoxious snoring was quite
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She was quite free from the tree, and awake and invigorated too. When looking into her eyes, I could see only a reflection of the flames of the camp behind me. When listening to her breath, I could hear the primal, rage filled grunts from just my visage alone. Such anger, could hardly stop herself from flapping those broad shoulders of hers, does she think of herself as a bird? Maybe she seeks to intimidate me with her little Viking-esk display? Hell if I know, I am honestly more focused on how her flame-like hair has begun to crackle and flow, very much like the growing fire around us. A shame that the egg shaped helm hides most of her face, I'm very eager to know all about this woman. Especially since I've yet to see one whose entire body has uncanny match of a man. Maybe if she were to wear a piece of armour more concealing, perhaps a piece of pristine plate, I would have almost mistaken her for a man, but no, there is not enough chainmail in the world to hide the endowments of a
She was quite free from the tree, and awake and invigorated too. When looking into her eyes, I could see only a reflection of the flames of the camp behind me. When listening to her breath, I could hear the primal, rage filled grunts from just my visage alone. Such anger, could hardly stop herself from flapping those broad shoulders of hers, does she think of herself as a bird? Maybe she seeks to intimidate me with her little Viking-esk display? Hell if I know, I am honestly more focused on how her flame-like hair has begun to crackle and flow, very much like the growing fire around us. A shame that the egg shaped helm hides most of her face, I'm very eager to know all about this woman. Especially since I've yet to see one whose entire body has uncanny match of a man. Maybe if she were to wear a piece of armour more concealing, perhaps a piece of pristine plate, I would have almost mistaken her for a man, but no, there is not enough chainmail in the world to hide the endowments of a