Where Legends Gather - The Bestial Huntress v0.3

Where Legends Gather
The Bestial Huntress
v 0.3
6.6.14

A quick, rapid spear pierces through the air,
A spear from the darkness of the jungle.
Only the skillful, timely dodge of a true warrior
Could avoid the sting of that projectile.

A figure emerges from the fog,
And lo, it is a dame,
But one from the wild,
She, scantily clad in wilderness leaves,
In wild, white, war paint,
And little leather garments,
Chucks another spear.
A cheerful, seduced eye upon her
Will surely lose to the quick
Javelin
That she throws again and
Again.

She leans forward, advancing,
Her left arm extended, hovers above the ground
Tracking the path of her prey,
Prey that thinks itself clever,
Prey that thinks itself
Civilized.
A belt of bones hugs her hips,
Hangs round her neck,
Hangs from her ears.
They bounce, clatter, clunk with every stride.
Every piece of ivory has its own story to tell,
So she wears her hunting trophies proudly
As if she were some sort of hotshot.
Javelin.

It seems her weakness lies in close quarters.
After a good strike or two she cowers back into the fog,
Whimpering like a--
Javelin.
But look she returns,
And she mends her wounds in an aura
Of a leaf-green primal surge.

She enters the dark jungle, her movements screened by fog.
It is the time to end this fray,
To put down this--
Javelin.
She prowls along the wild paths,
Hastened by tall grass, where surely she finds easy footing.
This terrain must be home to--
Whack.
Must be home to--
Javelin...
These cursed woods are littered with bushwhacks,
In trickery

[v0.3]