Ambrosious
Weaver of Written Worlds
- Joined
- Jun 10, 2000
- Posts
- 6,346
Turning and screaming like a girl as the beast bore down upon him, Captain Marcol’s life flashed before his eyes. That couldn’t be a good sign. The beast was steadily making up for lost ground and the distance between him and it grew shorter with each stride. Captain Marcol knew his only chance of survival lay in making a stand and fighting the beast. He just couldn’t bring himself to stop running. More importantly, he couldn’t stand to look the thing square in it’s face. He felt as if his soul would freeze and his heart would stop if he had to look at it once more. He screamed instead.
A few more paces and he could feel the creature’s breath upon his exposed back, for his uniform was in tatters. He knew his end was drawing near. As the creature raked its talon’s down his back, drawing beads of blood down it’s length, Captain Marcol decided to make a stand. He stopped short and dropped to his knees. The creatures long legs and quick stride propelled it over Captain Marcol and forward a few steps before it realized what had happened to it’s prey. Marcol quickly unsheathed his dagger and it looked so inconsequential in his hands facing a beast of such proportions. He looked the creature in the face and felt bile rise his belly once again.
“I MAKE MY STAND HERE, FOUL CREATURE,” Marcol screamed at the beast. It grunted its assent at Marcol’s decision to fight.
The two of them circled each other in a dance as ancient as the gods themselves. The creature took an experimental swipe at Marcol, who easily ducked out of harms way. If this was the best the creature had to offer, Marcol was in for an easy victory. Unfortunately for him, that was not the creature’s best. Marcol swiped at the beast with his dagger, barely missing it. The creature swiped at Marcol unsuccessfully once again. Marcol gave a vicious yell and ran at the beast, taking it by surprise. He brought himself up to the beast’s belly and dropped to his knees once again. The beast had learned from the ploy and was ready for Marcol. As he slashed a bloody line across the beast’s thighs, the beast brought a heavy hand down across Marcol’s head. The blow reeled him, and he saw stars for a few moments and he slashed blindly in the general direction of the beast. The wild flaying of his arm kept the beast from finishing him off, for he couldn’t land a successful blow to Marcol while he thrashed wildly about.
Marcol scampered back away from the beast and to relative safety while he planned for his next attack. Neither the beast nor Marcol saw the heavily robed man approaching from the west. The two of them went back into the battle dance they had started a while ago, when the newcomer spoke.
“Unclean, foul creature of demon spawn, BEGONE! I command you to leave this man in peace or you will face my wrath!”
Captain Marcol looked at the newcomer like he had lost touch with reality. Did the man really think that simple YELLING would stop this creature. Marcol had fought many such beasts in his time and had never thought to ask them to stop killing before. The newcomer and the beast locked eyes and the newcomer reached into his robes and pulled out and amulet. At the sight of the amulet, the beast shrank back. Marcol was amazed. The newcomer mumbled something in the general direction of the beast and it screamed either in agony or frustration. The beast started to turn away and at the last minute decided that it wasn’t going to let his prey escape so easily. It ran at the newcomer and Marcol, it’s thighs pumping out a steady staccato. It swiped at the newcomer half heartedly and lashed out at Marcol, once again sending him reeling. He barely made out, through the fog he was seeing the world through, the newcomer flash his amulet at the beast, making contact with its scaly skin. The beast screamed in agony for sure this time and bolted off through the trees. Marcol was as amazed as he was dazed from the blow he had received. The newcomer bent down and took Marcol’s head between his hands and mumbled that strange sound once again, and suddenly everything was right. Marcol no longer looked at the world through a fog, and his wounds had healed themselves.
“You should be fine now,’ said the newcomer.
“Thank you for your assistance, but I would have dispatched the creature in short order,” Marcol tried to save a little face here and his honor forced the next words from his mouth. “My name is Captain Marcol and I command the King’s guard. If ever you need assistance, just say it and I will serve. I offer you this in lieu of my life.”
“I was hoping to here you say those words and must now command you to hold true to what you say. The Order is in trouble and we need your services. I bind you to your oath and ask you to accompany me,” spoke the newcomer.
Marcol grimaced, for he was needed at the castle. The creatures had been assaulting the castle walls off and on for about a month and he was needed in its defense. How did he let himself get into this? The newcomer claimed to be of The Order, and if that was true, Marcol didn’t dare refuse their request. Maybe if he had an audience with the High Priest, something could be worked out.
“Agreed. Let us seek The Order and the wisdom of the High Priest. I will do as he commands.”
The two set off toward the east with the echoes of a wounded beast playing among the trees.
A few more paces and he could feel the creature’s breath upon his exposed back, for his uniform was in tatters. He knew his end was drawing near. As the creature raked its talon’s down his back, drawing beads of blood down it’s length, Captain Marcol decided to make a stand. He stopped short and dropped to his knees. The creatures long legs and quick stride propelled it over Captain Marcol and forward a few steps before it realized what had happened to it’s prey. Marcol quickly unsheathed his dagger and it looked so inconsequential in his hands facing a beast of such proportions. He looked the creature in the face and felt bile rise his belly once again.
“I MAKE MY STAND HERE, FOUL CREATURE,” Marcol screamed at the beast. It grunted its assent at Marcol’s decision to fight.
The two of them circled each other in a dance as ancient as the gods themselves. The creature took an experimental swipe at Marcol, who easily ducked out of harms way. If this was the best the creature had to offer, Marcol was in for an easy victory. Unfortunately for him, that was not the creature’s best. Marcol swiped at the beast with his dagger, barely missing it. The creature swiped at Marcol unsuccessfully once again. Marcol gave a vicious yell and ran at the beast, taking it by surprise. He brought himself up to the beast’s belly and dropped to his knees once again. The beast had learned from the ploy and was ready for Marcol. As he slashed a bloody line across the beast’s thighs, the beast brought a heavy hand down across Marcol’s head. The blow reeled him, and he saw stars for a few moments and he slashed blindly in the general direction of the beast. The wild flaying of his arm kept the beast from finishing him off, for he couldn’t land a successful blow to Marcol while he thrashed wildly about.
Marcol scampered back away from the beast and to relative safety while he planned for his next attack. Neither the beast nor Marcol saw the heavily robed man approaching from the west. The two of them went back into the battle dance they had started a while ago, when the newcomer spoke.
“Unclean, foul creature of demon spawn, BEGONE! I command you to leave this man in peace or you will face my wrath!”
Captain Marcol looked at the newcomer like he had lost touch with reality. Did the man really think that simple YELLING would stop this creature. Marcol had fought many such beasts in his time and had never thought to ask them to stop killing before. The newcomer and the beast locked eyes and the newcomer reached into his robes and pulled out and amulet. At the sight of the amulet, the beast shrank back. Marcol was amazed. The newcomer mumbled something in the general direction of the beast and it screamed either in agony or frustration. The beast started to turn away and at the last minute decided that it wasn’t going to let his prey escape so easily. It ran at the newcomer and Marcol, it’s thighs pumping out a steady staccato. It swiped at the newcomer half heartedly and lashed out at Marcol, once again sending him reeling. He barely made out, through the fog he was seeing the world through, the newcomer flash his amulet at the beast, making contact with its scaly skin. The beast screamed in agony for sure this time and bolted off through the trees. Marcol was as amazed as he was dazed from the blow he had received. The newcomer bent down and took Marcol’s head between his hands and mumbled that strange sound once again, and suddenly everything was right. Marcol no longer looked at the world through a fog, and his wounds had healed themselves.
“You should be fine now,’ said the newcomer.
“Thank you for your assistance, but I would have dispatched the creature in short order,” Marcol tried to save a little face here and his honor forced the next words from his mouth. “My name is Captain Marcol and I command the King’s guard. If ever you need assistance, just say it and I will serve. I offer you this in lieu of my life.”
“I was hoping to here you say those words and must now command you to hold true to what you say. The Order is in trouble and we need your services. I bind you to your oath and ask you to accompany me,” spoke the newcomer.
Marcol grimaced, for he was needed at the castle. The creatures had been assaulting the castle walls off and on for about a month and he was needed in its defense. How did he let himself get into this? The newcomer claimed to be of The Order, and if that was true, Marcol didn’t dare refuse their request. Maybe if he had an audience with the High Priest, something could be worked out.
“Agreed. Let us seek The Order and the wisdom of the High Priest. I will do as he commands.”
The two set off toward the east with the echoes of a wounded beast playing among the trees.
