Post by Twixt on Mar 14, 2007 20:50:06 GMT -5
Yea, I write stories. So what wanna fight about it? This is a section from one I'm working on right now. Since I've gotten into Vanguard I haven't written much, but I'm copying and pasting this one in here. Comment if you like it.
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Faelin huddled closer to the tree limbs and shivered. The fire from the orc encampment not far below him looked so inviting, but he knew a halfling among orc kin would look as out of place as a gnoll with no tail. A halfling of the Ridge, Faelin stood only three and a half feet tall. His dusty blonde hair and boyish face often caused him minor troubles, such as being refused entrance to a well-lit tavern. However, his boyish charm often fooled his opponents. Quick with his wit and quicker with his blades, Faelin was unmatched in swordplay. For this reason he had been chosen to spy on the enemy… in enemy territory.
The fire was snuffed out, and Faelin could hear the orcs mumbling and grumbling in the darkness. Primitive beasts, fondling their weapons with such a smooth caress as one would stroke a small child. Faelin grunted softly as he shifted himself onto his haunches and leaned back against the tree trunk to try and catch some sleep.
The orc encampment awoke with such a roar of activity that Faelin was nearly shaken from his tree. He watched with delighted interest as orcs scrambled about, heedlessly obeying the orders of their superiors. With a loud smack and a sharp clang of metal striking metal, one orc, in his haste to obey, doused a commanding officer in the previous night’s dinner. Suddenly, silence reigned again. Faelin leaned forward in his tree, ears keenly trying to pick up on the orc’s guttural language.
The commander spoke no words. The now sagging officer shook himself off furiously. The foolish orc who had bathed him in cold dinner was swiftly backpedaling. He turned and sprinted for the woods, directly toward Faelin’s tree. The halfing leaned close to the trunk of the tree, wrapping his arms around it and attempting to blend into the mahogany sheen of the bark, but it was too late. The orc, looking for a quicker escape route, looked up into the tree and met with Faelin’s boyish gaze. The demonic creature’s mouth opened in surprise, but before he could utter a cry of warning, a large, heavy-weighted orc axe buried itself in the back of his skull.
Faelin breathed a sigh of relief as the orc encampment quickly bustled back into frenzied activity. He disentangled himself from the tree bark, but froze suddenly as he spied the commander stalking over slowly to retrieve his axe. The elite orc spat on the corpse of the lesser minion and planted a foot stolidly on the back of the defeated individual. With a grunt and a heave, he wrenched the axe from the back of the unfortunate orc’s skull. Brain fluid and pieces of tissue splattered Faelin’s face as he looked down upon the grisly scene. Using his jerkin, Faelin wiped away the dirt and grime from his face, gagging at the scent of orc blood. He pulled the jerkin down and buckled it back to his chain mail vest. It wasn’t until moments later that Faelin returned his gaze to the ground. The commanding officer was gone, but the orc’s body remained. The huge chunk of his exposed brain left open for the flies to feast upon. The stench was already reaching Faelin’s tree, and he knew he would not be able to stomach the rotting flesh much longer. He frantically searched about for another tree that’s position was equal to his own. Finding one several meters away, his gaze once again returned to the orc camp. Carrying large buckets and rags and polishing tools, the orcs were busy trundling about; avoiding the whips of their merciless task drivers. Faelin doubted he would be noticed, but he was highly aware if he was spotted it would likely be his last adventure.
Untitled
Faelin huddled closer to the tree limbs and shivered. The fire from the orc encampment not far below him looked so inviting, but he knew a halfling among orc kin would look as out of place as a gnoll with no tail. A halfling of the Ridge, Faelin stood only three and a half feet tall. His dusty blonde hair and boyish face often caused him minor troubles, such as being refused entrance to a well-lit tavern. However, his boyish charm often fooled his opponents. Quick with his wit and quicker with his blades, Faelin was unmatched in swordplay. For this reason he had been chosen to spy on the enemy… in enemy territory.
The fire was snuffed out, and Faelin could hear the orcs mumbling and grumbling in the darkness. Primitive beasts, fondling their weapons with such a smooth caress as one would stroke a small child. Faelin grunted softly as he shifted himself onto his haunches and leaned back against the tree trunk to try and catch some sleep.
The orc encampment awoke with such a roar of activity that Faelin was nearly shaken from his tree. He watched with delighted interest as orcs scrambled about, heedlessly obeying the orders of their superiors. With a loud smack and a sharp clang of metal striking metal, one orc, in his haste to obey, doused a commanding officer in the previous night’s dinner. Suddenly, silence reigned again. Faelin leaned forward in his tree, ears keenly trying to pick up on the orc’s guttural language.
The commander spoke no words. The now sagging officer shook himself off furiously. The foolish orc who had bathed him in cold dinner was swiftly backpedaling. He turned and sprinted for the woods, directly toward Faelin’s tree. The halfing leaned close to the trunk of the tree, wrapping his arms around it and attempting to blend into the mahogany sheen of the bark, but it was too late. The orc, looking for a quicker escape route, looked up into the tree and met with Faelin’s boyish gaze. The demonic creature’s mouth opened in surprise, but before he could utter a cry of warning, a large, heavy-weighted orc axe buried itself in the back of his skull.
Faelin breathed a sigh of relief as the orc encampment quickly bustled back into frenzied activity. He disentangled himself from the tree bark, but froze suddenly as he spied the commander stalking over slowly to retrieve his axe. The elite orc spat on the corpse of the lesser minion and planted a foot stolidly on the back of the defeated individual. With a grunt and a heave, he wrenched the axe from the back of the unfortunate orc’s skull. Brain fluid and pieces of tissue splattered Faelin’s face as he looked down upon the grisly scene. Using his jerkin, Faelin wiped away the dirt and grime from his face, gagging at the scent of orc blood. He pulled the jerkin down and buckled it back to his chain mail vest. It wasn’t until moments later that Faelin returned his gaze to the ground. The commanding officer was gone, but the orc’s body remained. The huge chunk of his exposed brain left open for the flies to feast upon. The stench was already reaching Faelin’s tree, and he knew he would not be able to stomach the rotting flesh much longer. He frantically searched about for another tree that’s position was equal to his own. Finding one several meters away, his gaze once again returned to the orc camp. Carrying large buckets and rags and polishing tools, the orcs were busy trundling about; avoiding the whips of their merciless task drivers. Faelin doubted he would be noticed, but he was highly aware if he was spotted it would likely be his last adventure.
