This will be the first in a series of posts containing chapters of a short story that I am in the process of writing. If anybody ever finds this I would appreciate critiques.

~Prelude~

Clang, clang …clang, clang... It is the hollow rhythm that echoes throughout this subterranean hell, the constant reminder that has embedded into all of our minds the bleakness of our own existence. This soulless cadence is the only sound as my fellow warriors prepare for another raid. Clang, clang …Clang, clang…
* * * * *
Noise, so much noise thought Rhea as she pressed through the throng. There were rumors of a raid on this town by a bloodthirsty band of warriors, and she was determined to leave the town before nightfall. She felt a sharp pain in her lower leg and winced as she turned to come face to face with a man in heavy armor holding a halberd that was embedded in her lower calf. He jutted it forward and jerked it back out of the wound. She stared gaping in awe as the blunt end of the pole arm came towards her head. The rest of what happened was blackness and so much noise.
* * * * *
It had been 14 years since the bombs fell, 14 years and hope for a civilized world had all but diminished. The years following the war’s end was all politicians bullshitting and trying to push themselves up to the top. Unfortunately for them, the people weren’t buying into it and started perpetuating the chaos with riots and revolts.
The world had collapsed into anarchy, currency was worthless and only goods had value. Luckily the past decade had seen a long stretch of peace until various warrior clans, such as the Soaring Eagle Clan started raiding small defenseless towns of their resources.
* * * * *
Rhea awoke in a daze. She felt a bump and the burning ache in her calf returned her to her senses. Realizing that she was being carried by a young man she stirred.
"So, you’re awake." He was obviously of high rank; he had many decorative feathers and two beautifully wicked curved swords.
Rhea stayed quiet.
"Listen, I can get you a bandage or something if you want me to. Sorry about the rough treatment. So what’s your name?"
"What is this? Who are you? Why am I here?" Her mind raced frantically as she took in her situation.
"Hey, I asked first." He said, faux-childlike
"No, you answer me."
"Alright, I’ll be the adult and take the initiative; I am Racemes Bubonicus, general of the Soaring Eagle Clan, and you are?"
After a long pause she spoke.
"My name is Rhea, I don’t have a last name. I was an herbalist in the town you raided."
"Ah…well you might want to go back to sleep, it’ll be a long ride."
"I can walk," She says as she tried to get down.
"Eh, no your leg-" he tried to say as her wounded leg got caught up on Racemes arm. She then fell on her leg. Blinding, white hot pain pierced up her leg. Racemes sighed, shook his head and picked her up.
* * * * *
Racemes took the woman over to the wagon of supplies and told one of his officers to stop the caravan. He put her down on the ground and pulled out a bandage and a bottle of antiseptic that was stolen from the town.
Rhea stirred.
"Awake again I see."
"Huh…Oh it’s you." She spit venomously.
"Sit still, I need to clean your wound."
She obeyed unhappily, realizing that it was necessary to her survival. She realized that these people only kept her alive for one reason and she detested that and swore that she would live long enough to kill all of them.