Traz
14-10-2006, 11:30
Author's Note: In this thread I shall archive any stories of mine that are either single segments, or only a couple of chapters. For my longer instalments, they will each have a separate thread. But for the moment, that's neither here nor there. Below you shall find a short 'story' of mine, which is actually the start of a chapter for another story of mine, which has many chapters overall. This is not a spoiler of any kind in that regard, as it goes perfectly well as a 'stand-alone' piece; and I don't intend to host that story here (bar this small segment.) If you have any feedback to add, all that I ask is that you read this story thoroughly; and offer more than 'That was good', or 'I didn't like it'. Explain your reasoning either way, or please don't waste my time. Thanks.
~~~~~
The Night's Duo.
The night was blissful; not a cloud hid away the beauty of the shining stars or the silvery moon, and a peaceful breeze blew throughout the calm plains of Farmeet. Bandits were known to roam the seemingly endless fields of grass, but not this night; not this moment. No, the only ones prowling were the hunter and his pet. They stealthily manoeuvred about the smaller crevices and dirt hills that littered the plains, searching out their target. The hunter, upon anyone's closer inspection or scrutiny, was actually just an old man, who carried a large sword with a slimmed blade, held together tightly in his scabbard. Whipped across his shoulder was an old crossbow and a few spare bolts.
Also, one of the man's hands; his left one, seemed a little larger and more muscled then the other. Strangely, it seemed to swell in the centre. Considering his age, it was surprising that the person had not yet shortened less than six feet tall; as is normal of the elderly. He still attained a well-toned build likewise. His hair was jet black, and the man's face featured a few scars and dips here and there. His clothes complimented the grassy scene he traversed, quite well.
Trotting along beside his apparent master was a large wolf, easily twice the size; if not more, of a standard wolf. Some wise scholars and educated folk would know that the magnificent beast was a Silver Wolf. It marched proudly and at a similar pace to its human companion, the hunter, who at times dropped his hand atop the wolf's head to give it an encouraging pat. The wolf, well adept and focused in its darkened surroundings, seemed to pay the gesture no heed, though it did appreciate the company of its beloved friend all the same.
When the duo rounded a corner of the plains, where a steep hill continued the path, the two quickly looked at each other for a final offering of mutual support, and then the chase was on. The mighty silver wolf sped off at greater speeds then perhaps even a trained steed could possibly not match, whilst the slower hunter took up the rear. When they both neared the top of the hill, the wolf let out an angry howl. By the time the hunter arrived, he noticed the source of his friend's distress.
The mother boar was no longer trying to run; or to hide for its life. It had turned, and was charging straight for the large wolf, with its sharp tusks leading the way. While a silver wolf is naturally large when compared to its familiar, smaller species, the mother boars of this land were close to being equally large. Though each beast was quite muscled, the boar packed a lot more weight. Before the dangerous foe could roar in, a speeding arrow caught it in its side. The boar, searing in momentary agony, tripped over and tumbled to the ground. In an instant, the creature shook away the fiery pain through adrenaline, and was on its four feet once more.
But by then, it was far too late for the unfortunate animal. It suddenly found the giant form of the silver wolf atop its back, tearing into the flesh with sharp claws and wicked teeth. The angry mother boar shook furiously, and nearly managed to pierce the wolf's vulnerable hide with its gaping tusks. Fortunately for Sharrdos, its companion the hunter Mantalis was already there, sword drawn. The agile fighter slashed into the boar's face, and then cut back down in a stunning motion, opening the beast's throat rather gruesomely. Moments later, after the man and the wolf had caught their breath; they headed off towards home, their dinner in tow.
"We eat well tonight, my friend," spoke the hunter. The creature's resounding howl could have been nothing more than the voice of agreement.
~~~~~
The Night's Duo.
The night was blissful; not a cloud hid away the beauty of the shining stars or the silvery moon, and a peaceful breeze blew throughout the calm plains of Farmeet. Bandits were known to roam the seemingly endless fields of grass, but not this night; not this moment. No, the only ones prowling were the hunter and his pet. They stealthily manoeuvred about the smaller crevices and dirt hills that littered the plains, searching out their target. The hunter, upon anyone's closer inspection or scrutiny, was actually just an old man, who carried a large sword with a slimmed blade, held together tightly in his scabbard. Whipped across his shoulder was an old crossbow and a few spare bolts.
Also, one of the man's hands; his left one, seemed a little larger and more muscled then the other. Strangely, it seemed to swell in the centre. Considering his age, it was surprising that the person had not yet shortened less than six feet tall; as is normal of the elderly. He still attained a well-toned build likewise. His hair was jet black, and the man's face featured a few scars and dips here and there. His clothes complimented the grassy scene he traversed, quite well.
Trotting along beside his apparent master was a large wolf, easily twice the size; if not more, of a standard wolf. Some wise scholars and educated folk would know that the magnificent beast was a Silver Wolf. It marched proudly and at a similar pace to its human companion, the hunter, who at times dropped his hand atop the wolf's head to give it an encouraging pat. The wolf, well adept and focused in its darkened surroundings, seemed to pay the gesture no heed, though it did appreciate the company of its beloved friend all the same.
When the duo rounded a corner of the plains, where a steep hill continued the path, the two quickly looked at each other for a final offering of mutual support, and then the chase was on. The mighty silver wolf sped off at greater speeds then perhaps even a trained steed could possibly not match, whilst the slower hunter took up the rear. When they both neared the top of the hill, the wolf let out an angry howl. By the time the hunter arrived, he noticed the source of his friend's distress.
The mother boar was no longer trying to run; or to hide for its life. It had turned, and was charging straight for the large wolf, with its sharp tusks leading the way. While a silver wolf is naturally large when compared to its familiar, smaller species, the mother boars of this land were close to being equally large. Though each beast was quite muscled, the boar packed a lot more weight. Before the dangerous foe could roar in, a speeding arrow caught it in its side. The boar, searing in momentary agony, tripped over and tumbled to the ground. In an instant, the creature shook away the fiery pain through adrenaline, and was on its four feet once more.
But by then, it was far too late for the unfortunate animal. It suddenly found the giant form of the silver wolf atop its back, tearing into the flesh with sharp claws and wicked teeth. The angry mother boar shook furiously, and nearly managed to pierce the wolf's vulnerable hide with its gaping tusks. Fortunately for Sharrdos, its companion the hunter Mantalis was already there, sword drawn. The agile fighter slashed into the boar's face, and then cut back down in a stunning motion, opening the beast's throat rather gruesomely. Moments later, after the man and the wolf had caught their breath; they headed off towards home, their dinner in tow.
"We eat well tonight, my friend," spoke the hunter. The creature's resounding howl could have been nothing more than the voice of agreement.