What happened to Bo Bonnie

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Bo Bonnie
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Joined: Wed Jul 28, 2010 10:39 am

What happened to Bo Bonnie

Postby Bo Bonnie » Fri Oct 09, 2015 10:40 am

Grim Medea was what the folk in the nearest village called her, but Bo was unsure whether it was truly the other woman's real name. She just called her Medea. Medea was the only other person that lived out here in the wilds for miles around. Her hut was situated upon the other side of the glen from Bo's own - with Bo living up on the bank, while Medea dwelt down in the shady forested valley bellow. It was a common belief among the local village folk that the two women out in the wilds were, in fact, witches. Grim Medea and White Bo were the names that they had given them. Grim Medea was known to brew you up a potion that could make your intended fall madly in love with you, or a poison that could still the breath of your foe, if you possessed the coin to pay for it for it. The old woman also dealt with the local dead, embalming and preparing them for their final journey into the afterlife. Her hut was situated near to the village's burial mound. It was rumored that Grim Medea could see your future in her firepit. But seldom few of the villagers had ever been brave enough to dabble in that.

Truth be told,White Bo was not a witch at all. In her previous life she had been a Cleric. Though she no longer donned the robes, she still had the ring to prove it and wore it upon her thumb on her left hand. Bo was the witch that you went to if you had a particularly bad case of the sniffles or had broken a bone. As Grim Medea checked you out of this world, Bo would welcome you in: She had helped to birth twenty two of the villager's babes since her arrival in the valley this cycle.

The two women had very little (if not nothing) in common. But in being the only two living souls in miles around Bo made it her business to visit Medea at least once a week. The visiting was always done at Medea's hut: She was the older of the pair and her back was stooped, it would be terribly unfair to expect her to make the climb up the bank to Bo's own dwelling. The climb was steep in parts and the trails overgrown in places, and if the weather had been bad and the snows had come, the journey was harder still. Besides, Bo had a horse to make the journey where Medea did not.

However another more recent problem that was now causing Bo's visits to be all the more hindersome was the increasing volume of the burial mounds 'restless dead' that she encountered wandering the woods. Today, as Bo softly trotted down the forest path astride Petal, her grey mare, another came into sight: A deer flitted across the muddy trail and was soon followed by the shuffling abomination. The dead moved so slowly that Bo had never actually witnessed one catch any of the forests animals. She had stumbled across one eating a rabbit a week or so earlier. But by the smell of the unfortunate creature, the thing had been long dead by the time the zombie had gotten hands upon it. Jam's barks disturbed the muffled peace of the valley. The small, wire-haired terrier at Petals' heels was a yappy thing at the best of times, but the sight and scent of the walking dead would throw her into even more of a frenzy than usual. Mercifully, the large mare paid little mind to the frantic dog baying around her ankles, but still she did paw at the pine-blanketed ground with unease. Bo on the other hand was so used to dealing with the likes that she was hardly phased at all. During her adventuring days as a Cleric she had encountered enough to know exactly what she was dealing with by now. In other parts of the lands zombies infested dark dungeons and stank beneath desert suns. Bo had dispatched them all with shield and hammer. Now, calmly dismounting her mare, she strode purposefully down the forest path and toward her quarry. The zombie was already advancing toward her; it's attention caught and diverted from the deer by the ruckus that was Jam. Before it was dead the creature had been a woman, Bo could now see. She had been elderly when she had died, which made it all the more difficult to take the hammer to her. It was best not to think about it and just swing. As the zombie lumbered closer Bo noticed that the old woman was missing an eye and that maggots were writhing in the empty socket. A grunt escaped Bo's lips as she thrown her full weight behind the force of her swing, metal collided with bone with a wet and sickening crack and the woman's reanimated form was felled in one. Even so, Bo swung quickly and deftly again to smash her hammer into the back of the zombie's skull and send chips of bone flying. The woman twitched for two heartbeats, and then was still.

The silence that followed the savagery was deafening. Jam's barks had ceased and the little dog now stood cowering beneath the big mare with her head lowered. In the quiet a tremble threatened to overcome Bo and she was forced to look away from the ruinous body strewn on the ground. She swallowed a sob before it could take breath and screwed her eyes tightly shut. The mercy had been quick this time, yet it had still not been an easy thing to do. The occurrence was becoming altogether a much too common one, she would have to take up the matter with Medea again. Behind her Petal breathed gently and a bird flitted from a tree. Bo steeled herself and forced her gaze back upon the frail, crumpled body on the muddy ground. She would roll her off the path for now and return to bury her on the journey home. It was seldom that anyone else ever used the forest trails, but she imagined that it would cause immense upset if anyone were to stumble across the old woman's remains - what with her reanimation coupled with the brutal nature of her death. Bo left the woman by a memorable shrub off the road; a juniper bush with it's berries on. After wiping her hammer clean upon the cadaver's skirts Bo remounted Petal and whistled for Jam to follow before continuing on her way.
And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it. - Roald Dahl

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