Post by The Bard on Mar 14, 2011 22:27:21 GMT -5
((Love the site, love the stories! I thought I would share some of my own stories. I would love to have one of my characters join the Cats when I have more time to play, but until then I thought I would just contribute and roleplay on this lovely forum.
The Night Elf in the following story is not a character I play, but the troll is.
I hope you enjoy!))
Verun rolled his shoulders, keeping them loose. He had been in this position at the bottom of an ancient tree for nearly three hours. The tree was one of many on the mountain slope and this position provided him with an unobstructed view of the mountain pass below. These mountains and their forests were on the fringes of Ashenvale, making up the border between the primordial forest and Felwood. Usually this area was very lightly patrolled as Felwood’s corruption was largely contained. However, the recent cataclysm had caused new routes to open through the mountainous border and the Alliance command had wanted this area to be thoroughly scouted. The Sentinels would normally have taken responsibility of such a task but Horde advances from the Barrens had increased lately and the sisters were already spread thin. So they had sent for him.
Having been born some 500 years ago, Verun Duskbreeze was a master of his craft. Being born without the necessary affinity with the spirits of the wild to become a druid, he was trained in the arts of a ranger. Rather than unlocking the inner mysteries of the natural world, Verun had mastered surviving in and coexisting with the wilds. He was able to read signs in the forest few others would even notice. His survival and scouting skills along with his accomplishments in the wars against the invading Burning Legion and the undead Lich King had earned him a reputation as one of the best. Frequent journeys into the wilderness lead to him being unreachable for months on end, but the Sentinals had managed to catch him while preparing for one such journey and were thus able to conscript his services.
He had begun his patrol a week ago. Leaving Astranaar and traveling north, he reached the border mountains and turned east. Scouting the winding crags and gullies littered throughout the range. New passes had indeed been opened but he had seen little signs of travel through them, if any at all. The only tracks and signs of passage he did find were only those of local fauna and he had found there was no sign that Felwood’s corruption breached the mountains. He picked up the troll’s trail on the eleventh day of his range. A midday breeze carried the distinctive scent to his sharp hunter’s nose. By the same time the next day he had found his quarry. It was a lone male troll, obviously on some sort of reconnaissance mission. The troll was skilled and likely would have evaded Verun’s notice if it wasn’t for the stink of the jungle that clung to it
Having circled back around in front of the troll, Verun was now waiting to spring his ambush. The Kaldorei hunter was perfectly camouflaged under his war cloak. His massive yew longbow rested against his side. Intricate patterns were carved into the reddish brown stave and it did show signs of use, but it was in great condition. The length and heft of the stave revealed the enormous draw of the bow. This two hundred and fifty pound draw, however, was fairly commonplace among the large race of the Night Elves. Three arrows were jammed into the earth beside him, each with goose feather fletching and a bodkin point of truesilver. The thick, razor sharp bodkin arrowheads along with the colossal bow would punch through all but the most enchanted of armor. Verun knew there was no honor to be had in ambushing, but he also knew of the brutality of the recent Horde raids on southern Ashenvale. There would be no quarter given.
Verun notched an arrow and slowed his breathing. He let his mind fade into his surroundings. Birdsong and a gurgling creek in the distance became louder, more prominent. His mind unconsciously noting what kind of bird was singing and from which direction it came from. He noticed the wind, each breeze tousling the leaves and shrubs along the mountain slope. Any moment now.
The troll emerged from the forest growth into the gully. Verun sprung from his crouch, letting his war cloak slip from his shoulders. As he rose he drew back the arrow to his ear and let fly, all in the space of a heartbeat. The arrow tore through the mountain air like a lightning bolt. The deadly, hissing missile traveled the three hundred yards from bow to target in the blink of an eye. It struck the troll in the chest with a dull thud, lifting the invader off its feet.
Verun had another arrow notched before the first one struck. He paused and waited for movement. There was none. It was as he expected, there were only a few creatures he had encountered during his travels that would survive a shot like that from such close range. A jungle troll was not one of them. He returned the remaining two arrows to the slim quiver on his back and took his time while removing the string from his bow, all the while keeping an eye on the troll. He was certain the troll could not have survived, but any hunter knows that a felled creature could be saving the last of its energy for win the hunter drew nearer. He began to make his way down the slope to the corpse, his hand on the pommel of the long knife sheathed at his side.
The hunter stopped fifty yards away from the body, his golden eyes intent. Did the creature’s hand just twitch? Motionless, he waited and watched. Nothing. He stepped forward and tripped on an exposed root that wasn’t there a moment before. Dumbfounded, he stumbled forward and watched as the troll rose swiftly to its feet. The blue skinned troll let out the roar of a tiger and charged.
Verun had but a few moments to react. He tossed aside his bow stave and war cloak and unsheathed his long knife. He reached behind him and slipped his hatchet out of its protective loop. He watched the troll halve the distance to him. The trolls eyes became visible, they were a dark, dark green. As cruel and as unforgiving as the deepest jungle. He watched the troll reach up and pull the arrow out of its chest and toss it aside like a twig. It was not bloodied. These questions and a hundred others were soon forgotten as the troll was upon him.
The troll was huge, nearly as tall as him but withouthis considerable muscle. What the troll lacked in weight, he made up for in speed. Verun gave a vicious overhand chop with the hatchet and the troll jumped back, dodging the strike. Expecting this, the Kaldorei stepped forward and slashed horizontally with his knife, as quick as a snake. His knife scrapped across the trolls stomach and Verun felt the rush of excitement from the impending victory turn quickly into dread. Instead of slicing open the troll’s belly he felt the knife drag and get caught. Having spent much of his life in forests around Azeroth, he knew instantly what he struck with his blade. Bark. For an instant, Verun’s mind went blank with shock. The troll seized on the opportunity and batted his knife arm away, slipping inside the Night Elf’s defenses. The troll slammed into Verun like a stampeding beast, knocking him to the ground. Razor sharp claws and snapping teeth assaulted him.
The Kaldorei managed to retrieve an arrow and stabbed at the troll’s side. But no longer was Verun grappling with a mere jungle troll. He stabbed the huge tiger in the side one more time and felt the arrow scrape against ribs, but he knew his efforts would be futile. He starred helplessly at the maw of fangs closing around his face. He now knew what had happened. The master hunter had become the hunted. The fang lined jaws closed. Verun was dead in an instant.
The troll stood, gasping for breath. His ratted leather clothes hung in strands over his blood stained body. He stared at the mauled body of the Night Elf and grinned, his bloody lips revealing gory fangs. He bent and wrapped his hand around one of the Night Elf’s long ears. The ear pulled away from the head with little effort from the large jungle troll. He slipped it into a pocket, turned around and began limping in the direction from where it came. Mission accomplished.
The Night Elf in the following story is not a character I play, but the troll is.
I hope you enjoy!))
Verun rolled his shoulders, keeping them loose. He had been in this position at the bottom of an ancient tree for nearly three hours. The tree was one of many on the mountain slope and this position provided him with an unobstructed view of the mountain pass below. These mountains and their forests were on the fringes of Ashenvale, making up the border between the primordial forest and Felwood. Usually this area was very lightly patrolled as Felwood’s corruption was largely contained. However, the recent cataclysm had caused new routes to open through the mountainous border and the Alliance command had wanted this area to be thoroughly scouted. The Sentinels would normally have taken responsibility of such a task but Horde advances from the Barrens had increased lately and the sisters were already spread thin. So they had sent for him.
Having been born some 500 years ago, Verun Duskbreeze was a master of his craft. Being born without the necessary affinity with the spirits of the wild to become a druid, he was trained in the arts of a ranger. Rather than unlocking the inner mysteries of the natural world, Verun had mastered surviving in and coexisting with the wilds. He was able to read signs in the forest few others would even notice. His survival and scouting skills along with his accomplishments in the wars against the invading Burning Legion and the undead Lich King had earned him a reputation as one of the best. Frequent journeys into the wilderness lead to him being unreachable for months on end, but the Sentinals had managed to catch him while preparing for one such journey and were thus able to conscript his services.
He had begun his patrol a week ago. Leaving Astranaar and traveling north, he reached the border mountains and turned east. Scouting the winding crags and gullies littered throughout the range. New passes had indeed been opened but he had seen little signs of travel through them, if any at all. The only tracks and signs of passage he did find were only those of local fauna and he had found there was no sign that Felwood’s corruption breached the mountains. He picked up the troll’s trail on the eleventh day of his range. A midday breeze carried the distinctive scent to his sharp hunter’s nose. By the same time the next day he had found his quarry. It was a lone male troll, obviously on some sort of reconnaissance mission. The troll was skilled and likely would have evaded Verun’s notice if it wasn’t for the stink of the jungle that clung to it
Having circled back around in front of the troll, Verun was now waiting to spring his ambush. The Kaldorei hunter was perfectly camouflaged under his war cloak. His massive yew longbow rested against his side. Intricate patterns were carved into the reddish brown stave and it did show signs of use, but it was in great condition. The length and heft of the stave revealed the enormous draw of the bow. This two hundred and fifty pound draw, however, was fairly commonplace among the large race of the Night Elves. Three arrows were jammed into the earth beside him, each with goose feather fletching and a bodkin point of truesilver. The thick, razor sharp bodkin arrowheads along with the colossal bow would punch through all but the most enchanted of armor. Verun knew there was no honor to be had in ambushing, but he also knew of the brutality of the recent Horde raids on southern Ashenvale. There would be no quarter given.
Verun notched an arrow and slowed his breathing. He let his mind fade into his surroundings. Birdsong and a gurgling creek in the distance became louder, more prominent. His mind unconsciously noting what kind of bird was singing and from which direction it came from. He noticed the wind, each breeze tousling the leaves and shrubs along the mountain slope. Any moment now.
The troll emerged from the forest growth into the gully. Verun sprung from his crouch, letting his war cloak slip from his shoulders. As he rose he drew back the arrow to his ear and let fly, all in the space of a heartbeat. The arrow tore through the mountain air like a lightning bolt. The deadly, hissing missile traveled the three hundred yards from bow to target in the blink of an eye. It struck the troll in the chest with a dull thud, lifting the invader off its feet.
Verun had another arrow notched before the first one struck. He paused and waited for movement. There was none. It was as he expected, there were only a few creatures he had encountered during his travels that would survive a shot like that from such close range. A jungle troll was not one of them. He returned the remaining two arrows to the slim quiver on his back and took his time while removing the string from his bow, all the while keeping an eye on the troll. He was certain the troll could not have survived, but any hunter knows that a felled creature could be saving the last of its energy for win the hunter drew nearer. He began to make his way down the slope to the corpse, his hand on the pommel of the long knife sheathed at his side.
The hunter stopped fifty yards away from the body, his golden eyes intent. Did the creature’s hand just twitch? Motionless, he waited and watched. Nothing. He stepped forward and tripped on an exposed root that wasn’t there a moment before. Dumbfounded, he stumbled forward and watched as the troll rose swiftly to its feet. The blue skinned troll let out the roar of a tiger and charged.
Verun had but a few moments to react. He tossed aside his bow stave and war cloak and unsheathed his long knife. He reached behind him and slipped his hatchet out of its protective loop. He watched the troll halve the distance to him. The trolls eyes became visible, they were a dark, dark green. As cruel and as unforgiving as the deepest jungle. He watched the troll reach up and pull the arrow out of its chest and toss it aside like a twig. It was not bloodied. These questions and a hundred others were soon forgotten as the troll was upon him.
The troll was huge, nearly as tall as him but withouthis considerable muscle. What the troll lacked in weight, he made up for in speed. Verun gave a vicious overhand chop with the hatchet and the troll jumped back, dodging the strike. Expecting this, the Kaldorei stepped forward and slashed horizontally with his knife, as quick as a snake. His knife scrapped across the trolls stomach and Verun felt the rush of excitement from the impending victory turn quickly into dread. Instead of slicing open the troll’s belly he felt the knife drag and get caught. Having spent much of his life in forests around Azeroth, he knew instantly what he struck with his blade. Bark. For an instant, Verun’s mind went blank with shock. The troll seized on the opportunity and batted his knife arm away, slipping inside the Night Elf’s defenses. The troll slammed into Verun like a stampeding beast, knocking him to the ground. Razor sharp claws and snapping teeth assaulted him.
The Kaldorei managed to retrieve an arrow and stabbed at the troll’s side. But no longer was Verun grappling with a mere jungle troll. He stabbed the huge tiger in the side one more time and felt the arrow scrape against ribs, but he knew his efforts would be futile. He starred helplessly at the maw of fangs closing around his face. He now knew what had happened. The master hunter had become the hunted. The fang lined jaws closed. Verun was dead in an instant.
The troll stood, gasping for breath. His ratted leather clothes hung in strands over his blood stained body. He stared at the mauled body of the Night Elf and grinned, his bloody lips revealing gory fangs. He bent and wrapped his hand around one of the Night Elf’s long ears. The ear pulled away from the head with little effort from the large jungle troll. He slipped it into a pocket, turned around and began limping in the direction from where it came. Mission accomplished.
I look forward to reading more from you.))
Founded April 26, 2005