Post by Scyepogg on Mar 3, 2009 23:40:27 GMT 1
Fire, screams, chaos, flashing lights…
Bleeding, Scyepogg fell behind a rock and covered himself with his old cloak. He was so exhausted that didn’t even feel afraid to die. He didn’t even think of it.
Minutes, or maybe hours passed, it was hard to understand the time. At last he understood everything was over, and silence was around him, with only some random lava splashes in the distance. Slowly he sat on the ground, his hoof hitting the rocky surface with a vibrant sound.
Several orc bodies were lying around. Another what-seemed-to have-been-a-troll was lying a bit further away, closer to where the lava sounds came from and explosions were visible. The troll body was all burnt and had a huge bloody mess instead of head. Scyepogg heard a silent lamenting sound and saw a tauren girl lying nearby. He carefully approached, his injured leg dragging behind, and covered her with her cloak, stopping the wounds from bleeding.
Dragon hunter! Dragon slayer! Dragon killer! Maybe you could invent some more nice names for you, loser? Worthless, weak, stupid – that’s what you are. And so, so naïve…
He remembered it all again from the start. Large, cheerful company leaving from Agmar’s Hammer stronghold. So easy and promising it seemed. When he arrived at the Horde’s bastion and called for those willing to slay a huge, clumsy and unsuspecting drake, there was no shortage of those willing to come along. Rugged, gloomy orcs tired from everyday military service; ugly trolls, showing their sharp white teeth when then grinned; taunka tribesmen ousted from their villages; tauren warriors and healers staying with the expeditionary force; random adventurers or adventurers that often stray around those places. All of them eagerly followed.
The road to the lair took several days. The way was fast and easy, and they saw the drake from far away, resting silently in the same position as Scyepogg first saw him when exploring this remote corner of endless Dragonblight plains and forests. Hot rocks were lying around, but it was only pleasant after the chilling winds of the cold steppes. After a short camping and careless discussion he led the group down to the dragon’s pit, and the first volley of arrows went down on the creature. And then, suddenly, it started.
The dead, calm scenery around that seemed to have been lying undisturbed for centuries went insane and turned into a complete chaos all of a sudden. The giant creature rose on its colossal feet, opened its fauces and showered the attackers with a rain of fire. Rocky formations around started cracking, releasing dreadful whelps that rushed at the nearby hunters, scratching and tearing them apart. Huge drakes appeared in the sky out of nowhere and unleashed their rage on the group. The lava itself boiled up and spat huge boulders and red-hot gouts everywhere around. Confidence and aplomb vanished and gave way to panic and death.
Fire, screams, chaos, flashing lights… Within minutes it was all over.
Scyepogg turned back, grumbling painfully, and saw an elf sitting near a rock, swearing at him and all the damned orcs and dragons and whatnot, trying to rub off the burnt signs on the side of his expensive-looking shirt. He remembered that slacker coming along from Agmar and could not understand how he went through the fight, or rather the massacre, unhurt. Still that was of no importance.
Having discovered and bandaged several few survivors amidst the rocky mess – most of them were tauren, as the fittest and the most enduring race of the Horde, - Scyepogg, exhausted, lay down on the ground. The beating inside his head hurt much more than the wounds that he hardly felt at all after all this. And the thought felt his conscience clearer and clearer every minute.
I will find you, wherever you could be. I will hunt you in the darkest corners of the darkest caves, I will stride through the furthest parts of faraway forests, I will track you through icy plains and dead-dry deserts. I will return to you, and I will face you, and you will be defeated. We will meet again, cursed creature.
Bleeding, Scyepogg fell behind a rock and covered himself with his old cloak. He was so exhausted that didn’t even feel afraid to die. He didn’t even think of it.
Minutes, or maybe hours passed, it was hard to understand the time. At last he understood everything was over, and silence was around him, with only some random lava splashes in the distance. Slowly he sat on the ground, his hoof hitting the rocky surface with a vibrant sound.
Several orc bodies were lying around. Another what-seemed-to have-been-a-troll was lying a bit further away, closer to where the lava sounds came from and explosions were visible. The troll body was all burnt and had a huge bloody mess instead of head. Scyepogg heard a silent lamenting sound and saw a tauren girl lying nearby. He carefully approached, his injured leg dragging behind, and covered her with her cloak, stopping the wounds from bleeding.
Dragon hunter! Dragon slayer! Dragon killer! Maybe you could invent some more nice names for you, loser? Worthless, weak, stupid – that’s what you are. And so, so naïve…
He remembered it all again from the start. Large, cheerful company leaving from Agmar’s Hammer stronghold. So easy and promising it seemed. When he arrived at the Horde’s bastion and called for those willing to slay a huge, clumsy and unsuspecting drake, there was no shortage of those willing to come along. Rugged, gloomy orcs tired from everyday military service; ugly trolls, showing their sharp white teeth when then grinned; taunka tribesmen ousted from their villages; tauren warriors and healers staying with the expeditionary force; random adventurers or adventurers that often stray around those places. All of them eagerly followed.
The road to the lair took several days. The way was fast and easy, and they saw the drake from far away, resting silently in the same position as Scyepogg first saw him when exploring this remote corner of endless Dragonblight plains and forests. Hot rocks were lying around, but it was only pleasant after the chilling winds of the cold steppes. After a short camping and careless discussion he led the group down to the dragon’s pit, and the first volley of arrows went down on the creature. And then, suddenly, it started.
The dead, calm scenery around that seemed to have been lying undisturbed for centuries went insane and turned into a complete chaos all of a sudden. The giant creature rose on its colossal feet, opened its fauces and showered the attackers with a rain of fire. Rocky formations around started cracking, releasing dreadful whelps that rushed at the nearby hunters, scratching and tearing them apart. Huge drakes appeared in the sky out of nowhere and unleashed their rage on the group. The lava itself boiled up and spat huge boulders and red-hot gouts everywhere around. Confidence and aplomb vanished and gave way to panic and death.
Fire, screams, chaos, flashing lights… Within minutes it was all over.
Scyepogg turned back, grumbling painfully, and saw an elf sitting near a rock, swearing at him and all the damned orcs and dragons and whatnot, trying to rub off the burnt signs on the side of his expensive-looking shirt. He remembered that slacker coming along from Agmar and could not understand how he went through the fight, or rather the massacre, unhurt. Still that was of no importance.
Having discovered and bandaged several few survivors amidst the rocky mess – most of them were tauren, as the fittest and the most enduring race of the Horde, - Scyepogg, exhausted, lay down on the ground. The beating inside his head hurt much more than the wounds that he hardly felt at all after all this. And the thought felt his conscience clearer and clearer every minute.
I will find you, wherever you could be. I will hunt you in the darkest corners of the darkest caves, I will stride through the furthest parts of faraway forests, I will track you through icy plains and dead-dry deserts. I will return to you, and I will face you, and you will be defeated. We will meet again, cursed creature.
