This Is a Sample of Fantasy FictionOxford England, 12:45 a.m. She ran down a darkened alley, still cobblestoned due to it's quaintness. She wore a white blouse and green dress, both of "gypsy" style. She also sported a violet trench coat as was necessary for English weather. Her book bag proved an unwanted encumbrance.
She was swarthy skinned as a legacy of Romani blood. Her hair was straight and very long flowing wildly past her knees She had a face of sharp features with slanted, almost Asian eyes. More than one Oxford boy had lascivious dreams about her. Now she bore a countenance of fear and determination. Her pursuers were eight in number. Never good odds. In addition, they were not human.
"The alley might just prove a decent defensive position," she thought. It stank of garbage, rats, and human refuse, but beggars can't be choosers.
A small mob began filling the mouth of the alley. She turned and rolled up the sleeves of her coat revealing two charm bracelets with various dangling accoutrement's on them. Banging the bracelets together twice, two charms glowed blue, then disappeared. In exchange, she held a chakram and a longsword which had it's hilt stylized in the shape of a dragon.
"So," the pack leader coughed, "Kitty wants to play? Martine, take her!"
An individual broke from the group leaping to a wall. He ran across the building, defying gravity and the laws of physics only to leap again at his prey.
She managed to skewer him, mid leap, on her sword, which did nothing to slow him. They fell prone with his weight atop her, his clawed hands scrabbling for her throat.
"Andre," the leader spat, and another came at her. A boy, blond and beautiful, no older than twelve maybe.
Andre ran over with inhuman speed and grabbed her dark hair, pulling her head back, exposing her neck to her other attacker.
Incensed by the ease of her victimization, she called upon the power!
"Ahnaal Nathrak, Uth Vas Be..."
A sharp cuff to her head from Andre nearly knocked her senseless. Her vision swam and she could only see the mouth of the alley from her vantage point, On the edge of consciousness, she thought, "Who is that?"
At the alleys entrance stood a tall broad man. Nothing more could really be determined as he wore a black leather trench coat and a full brimmed fedora covered his face.
"Let the lady go!" he drawled (he must be American). "And who the bloody hell are you?", the pack leader shouted. A single shot rang out followed by the ratcheting sound of a bullet cylinder. Andre looked stunned and a single trickle of blood ran down the middle of his forehead. He fell over.
"I already asked once," the stranger retorted.
"Get him!", the leader howled and chaos broke loose. The five remaining in the group rushed the new arrival in an attempt to "dog pile" him. The stranger crouched, and leapt up out of sight. The gypsy woman used the distraction as an opportunity to lift Martine high into the air on her blade. With a deft twist of her wrist, she one handedly bisected Martine. The stranger came back down atop the leader with a sickening crunch. The pack was taken aback momentarily and the stranger stepped beside the gypsy woman. Two hammers clicked back on twin guns pointed at the woman's attackers. "Move on," the stranger yelled at them,"It's over."
"No",the woman said, "They are abomination!" The stranger was suddenly taken aback. He looked at her and the image of the face of a raccoon flickered across his features. Now the woman stared.
The attackers suddenly took this opportunity to flee. The woman turned to her former antagonists, and began to sing. One by one the remaining antagonists ignited in spectacular fashion.
"That's some trick," the man said after the conflagration had ended and the woman had stopped singing.
"I find it useful," the woman replied. "Shall we recoup elsewhere?"
"Yes," he replied, "There's some people I think you should meet."