Visage of Evil

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The fleeing woman paused momentarily to look back at her pursuers. Rihanna, High Priestess of some evil god, looked thoughtfully at the landscape around her. She was a rather striking woman; dark of skin, her silvery/white hair cascading about her shoulders and down her back, the pointed ears of a true Drow clearly seen through her tresses. She looked distastefully in the direction of her hunters. Her tall lithe body tensed ready to run. But where, she had no idea. Rihanna grimaced; the malice in her green eyes merely a reflection of the evil that coursed through her barely covered body. If she was self-conscious about her ‘armor’ or lack of it, it didn’t show. She was dressed in a four inch wide strip of supple leather forming her loincloth, connected to a small solid gold ring at her stomach; other leather strips ran around her shapely hips to a second gold ring at the small of her back. The ‘armor’ continued from the gold ring in front, up over her well endowed chest and around her neck. The rather strange garment left her back clear. She had a small black skirt that was fastened from the strap just above her buttocks falling behind her knees. The boots like the ‘armor’ were pitch black; the stark color was broken up by the flame design on the front and sides. The top of the rounded boot came just above her bare knees.

 

She turned to run again as she heard the baying of the dogs. Her long legs ate up the distance, her feet in the high heeled stiletto boots never missed a step, or fumbled in the dark across the unfamiliar broken terrain. She ran hard, jumping and diving, sometimes rolling in a forward somersault over downed trees. It was one such time she paused, breathing easily. She looked down at her, she had to freely admit, rather gorgeous body. She thought smugly, there was one benefit of being evil; no one had ever seen an ugly woman. Everything about her was firm and trim; no sag or bags anywhere. Rihanna was still a bit puzzled about the armor; it stopped her rather overemphasized bust from hurting like the dickens when she ran. She shrugged; it was probably another perk of being lawful evil. She fingered her hair, feeling the twigs and dirt clinging from the roll. She bent over forward and hung her head down, giving it a sweeping flip backwards that flared her silver locks gracefully around her head in slow motion. When the swirling hair resettled about her shoulders; all the twigs and dirt was gone, everything perfectly back in place. Especially the mud smear along her shoulder and knee was gone. Rihanna looked at her legs in smug satisfaction. Even running through that last thicket left no scratches. She smiled in perverse pleasure, satisfied that she was still the most desirable woman in the realm. If she had to be chased by a bunch of ignorant peasants, she was still going to look her desirable best.

 

Now she could see the torches of the mob, bobbing in the dark. She turned once again to run, and as she stepped out into nothing, a scream of anguish was torn from her rather sensual, pouty lips. The last thought that ran through her beautiful head was, ‘I don’t think my armor will help me this time.’

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