"WilliamWC3 = Windows resource eating GOD!"
-Fox^1
|
| Rook, a story | | | Author: | | | IP: | XXXX | | Date: | 11/12/99 06:11 | | Game Type: | Other | | Labels: | none | | Report Rating: , # of Ratings: 1, Max: 8, Min: 8
Lifetime Rating for Cashew-of-Doom: 8.0000 |  |
Rook crouched under the slight overhang caused by the precariously perched boulder. It was a tight squeeze for even his short frame. His tan-coloured chest rose and fell with each breath he took. He knew the troll would find him soon. His kind were not of the faintest odour, and, the trolls keen sense of smell would have no difficulty following the odour.
The odour was not a smell in the normal sense of the word. It was something more distinctive, and thing that was the same when had by anybody. Fear. Rook was terrified. He had always aspired to become a fighter, a hero, somebody who nobody trifled with. However, now that this was a true fight to the death and not a game, his mind darted from thought to thought. Too panicked and scared to reason, he was running.
Soft, padded footsteps alerted Rook, and he quickly slid out from his hiding spot and sprinted to a grove of birch trees. As he dodged between the tree's, he saw a smoldering campfire out of the corner of his eye. He darted over beside it, and held a piece of firewood he'd picked up from beside the fire in the embers. The bone-dry limb caught fire almost immediately, providing Rook with a weapon other than his small steel butcher knife.
He swung it side to side a few times, testing it's weight and balance. He then again continued his flight between the trees, the leaves crunching between his two-toed feet. He glanced behind him and saw the looming frame of the troll in the near distance, getting closer by the heartbeat.
Rook knew he couldn't keep running. Deep down, he knew that. But he refused to admit that to himself and the fear drove him on at a breakneck pace through the grove. Breathing heavily and dodging between trees, small embers flying off his torch, Rook's flight took him deeper towards the ancient heart of the grove.
Flames rushed overhead of Rooks view. In an instant the tinder dry canopy of the birch trees was alight. A wall of searing fire blocked his path. The older, dryer heart of the grove burning all the way down to the roots. The old dead husks of trunks not containing the green life needed to resist the inferno.
As Rook turned around, he found himself peering into the eyes of the blackest creature he had ever met. Flames danced in those eyes, and the eyes embraced the deathlike dance the flame wove.
Rook fell back and recoiled in dread. As the troll brought his axe down, Rook threw the torch up in defense. It stopped the blow, but shattered the torch causing flame to rain down on both of the combatants.
Rook jumped to his feet and drew his butcher knife. The fear passed out of his thoughts, the struggle for life took all his concentration. Parry. Duck. Block. Slash. Block. And on went the deadly contest of steel, both weapons and mindsets.
Burning stick and branches were beginning to fall, creating a firestorm seemingly pulled out of a nightmare. The trolls strength was beginning to wear on Rook, his blocks beginning to waiver, the troll almost breaking through the small dragons defense.
A flaming branch fell between the combatants. For a second the merely looked at each other, bloodlust in ones eyes and steely determination in the other. Down swept the trolls axe, Rooks parry only absorbing enough of the blow to stop it from killing him. The force of the attack knocked him onto his back, his hands at his sides.
The troll chuckled with twisted satisfaction. He brought his axe up with a twisted smile on his face. In a desperate attempt to save himself Rook rolled backwards to his feet, then forwards, and then again. His knife held high through the entire roll, it stabbed savagely into the trolls belly, dragging a ragged cut down and through the trolls crotch following Rooks roll between the monstrosities legs. Warm, red ichor bubbled and hissed as it hit the burning embers on the ground.
The malice left the trolls eyes along with life. Rook stood up, wiped his knife on the troll, and took off at a spring away from the firestorm, leaving his fear behind
-Cashew |
|
|
|
Home
Forum
Starcraft Tournaments
