- Joined
- Feb 12, 2007
- Messages
- 13
(Nother' story of Hector.)
Lush was this forest, vegetation all abound with the sweet fragrance of flowers and herbs filling the afternoon’s embracing wind that gave clue in it’s chilling gusts of a soon to be at hand winter. Above, the sun beamed down upon the dense canopy of the woodlands – yet no light found it’s way through the greenery that enshrouded the forest like a shadowed veil. Within this foliage was not a sound, the noises of wildlife all but gone; leaving an eerie silence behind as though it was some place long forgotten and abandoned through time.
In this solitude there was a slight movement, the origin of this rare occasion being not nature or beast but man, a youth of a man. Blonde hair cascaded past his ears with the occasional messy strand straying over his eyes, golden eyes that could be compared to the sun in it’s fashion and lively in it’s display. Clad over his body was no heavy chain mail or clumsy plate, only a layer of brown leather britches and a tunic to match was borne upon him with a double-edged blade dangling on a iron crafted belt on the left of his hip.
This man’s expression was not one of fear or unease within this foreboding wood but a countenance of distraught. His leather boots vociferously breaking branches and leaves alike under his careless footing. One could term him a madman for venturing into such a desolate place devoid of life but such an accusation would soon be corrected as the rumble of some unearthly creature sounded through his ears – normally one would not fear the such a sound that resembled the call of a wolf but in a place where life made no home it brought plenty of concern.
With his eyes squinting off into a distance, moving from shrub to tree as to find what such a horrendous call could emanate from; his inquiry was only furthered when bloodcurdling gnarls began to echo through the once silent and motionless wood where his eyes opened in the unforeseen arrival of these less than hospital creatures, four in their number were they with each having a dirtied coat of silver fur, eyes that matched a cup of the finest red wine and claws that would send a shudder down any man’s spine, animalistic in their initial appearance but an intelligence could be seen as he loosed his blade from the leather sheath, gripping the blade in his right hand, holding it as his life did depend on whether his blade struck true or not. Within the group was one who seemed to be the leader, guttural growls and mutters forming from it’s massive jaws with the smaller companions circling around the wanderer. “Light, give me strength.”
Death was soon to be at hand for these beasts were ever watchful and calculating, true hunters that worked as a team to strike down their foes. Yet their hunt was interrupted as vibrations were felt within the ground, sending tremors through the earth of which they stood – the creatures disoriented and fearing a threat larger than themselves began to flee in where they came but their escape cut short as their savage leader was seared with a bursting flame, the smell of burnt flesh permeating through the air with a short little man with vibrant, green hair sitting on a fiendish creatures shoulders, having no legs only arms and a odd head, blue in it’s hue cutting off their exit. “Shame you four had to run, it gets old!” the devious little imp giggled aloud as the blonde haired warrior recognized the gnome from books of Lore he had read under his studies, his thoughts interrupted as the creatures turned back now stampeding towards him. With blade in hand he parried the harsh blow of one of the desperate creatures albeit barely with the second and third running past him, no intention of saving their comrade. Their cowardly run ended swiftly as a man upon a steed came from the shrubbery, hacking his blade through the beasts neck as it took two swings for his mighty blade to break through the thick hide and flesh, a deluge of blood painting the ground like some gothic mural of dark times. “Three days they run, three!” his voice filled with scorn as he looked upon the slain creature, grimacing at the foul stench they radiated. The warrior whom had nearly been victim to their attacks taking no time to gaze at the spectacle, pain relishing his senses as a long claw grazed his flesh leaving off a gaping wound four inches in length. Thanking the Light for it not being his sword arm he fell midway to the ground, his blade finding it’s home into the soft underbelly of the wretched creature that glared at him with a trance of hatred before blood frothed forth from his jaws, falling slumped to the ground.
Indeed, he felt blessed this day to stumble upon those whom were sent by the Light – in his own view of course. Kicking the creature over to it’s back, seeing that same hideous expression he tugged the sword thrice, feeling it lunged into its’ ribcage.” With a sigh he sheathed his blade, looking to where he saw the gnome hoping to gain knowledge of whom they were, his search ended when a firm mailed fist gripped his shoulder. Turning to face what he thought to be more devilry of the damned Silverpine Forest. Instead he found himself looking into the eyes of the warrior whom cut down one of the wretches. “Easy there lad, no harm intended.” The man himself was clad in a black array of chain mail with leather undergarments being seen visibly under the protective barrier, the oddly fashioned armor matching the ebon colored hair that covered his unshaved face and head. “You were fortunate lad, we were hunting these creatures for two days.”
His hand moving from the blonde haired warrior’s shoulder he bowed his head with a salute following suit after. “Hector Arisius, Paladin of Lordaeron – Ordained under Magnus the Just in order to try and replenish the lost numbers of the purging of the noble Silver Hand.” The raven-haired warrior stroked the neatly trimmed goatee at his chain, his eyes seeming to focus on Hectors’ eyes as though to delve into his soul.
“Then I welcome you Brother of the Light and by your accent you are also native to Lordaeron?” his inquiry answered with a swift, nonchalant nod. “I am Cain Dryden, leader of a band of wanderers from many lands who wish to staunch the flow of oppression within these forsaken lands.” No smile or usual courtesy was shown between the two as they kept eye contact with the seemed intention of learning more of the other.” I come to these lands from the remnants of the northern Alliance, led by Lady Jaina Proudmoore of Dalaran – little food have I eaten and even less rest, my intentions were to see what now has become of our devastated nation.”
His voice cracked slightly under strain, feeling a small tug at his leather britches with that little green haired gnome beaming up at him. “Cain! Let’s bring him to the camp, he can use a blade well enough and maybe he can cook better than ole Sinvrall.” The ebon clad Paladin gave a wry smile upon his thin lips, looking about the once more silenced forest. “Yes, let us make haste as not even men of the Light should tarry where it is darkest alone.”
Lush was this forest, vegetation all abound with the sweet fragrance of flowers and herbs filling the afternoon’s embracing wind that gave clue in it’s chilling gusts of a soon to be at hand winter. Above, the sun beamed down upon the dense canopy of the woodlands – yet no light found it’s way through the greenery that enshrouded the forest like a shadowed veil. Within this foliage was not a sound, the noises of wildlife all but gone; leaving an eerie silence behind as though it was some place long forgotten and abandoned through time.
In this solitude there was a slight movement, the origin of this rare occasion being not nature or beast but man, a youth of a man. Blonde hair cascaded past his ears with the occasional messy strand straying over his eyes, golden eyes that could be compared to the sun in it’s fashion and lively in it’s display. Clad over his body was no heavy chain mail or clumsy plate, only a layer of brown leather britches and a tunic to match was borne upon him with a double-edged blade dangling on a iron crafted belt on the left of his hip.
This man’s expression was not one of fear or unease within this foreboding wood but a countenance of distraught. His leather boots vociferously breaking branches and leaves alike under his careless footing. One could term him a madman for venturing into such a desolate place devoid of life but such an accusation would soon be corrected as the rumble of some unearthly creature sounded through his ears – normally one would not fear the such a sound that resembled the call of a wolf but in a place where life made no home it brought plenty of concern.
With his eyes squinting off into a distance, moving from shrub to tree as to find what such a horrendous call could emanate from; his inquiry was only furthered when bloodcurdling gnarls began to echo through the once silent and motionless wood where his eyes opened in the unforeseen arrival of these less than hospital creatures, four in their number were they with each having a dirtied coat of silver fur, eyes that matched a cup of the finest red wine and claws that would send a shudder down any man’s spine, animalistic in their initial appearance but an intelligence could be seen as he loosed his blade from the leather sheath, gripping the blade in his right hand, holding it as his life did depend on whether his blade struck true or not. Within the group was one who seemed to be the leader, guttural growls and mutters forming from it’s massive jaws with the smaller companions circling around the wanderer. “Light, give me strength.”
Death was soon to be at hand for these beasts were ever watchful and calculating, true hunters that worked as a team to strike down their foes. Yet their hunt was interrupted as vibrations were felt within the ground, sending tremors through the earth of which they stood – the creatures disoriented and fearing a threat larger than themselves began to flee in where they came but their escape cut short as their savage leader was seared with a bursting flame, the smell of burnt flesh permeating through the air with a short little man with vibrant, green hair sitting on a fiendish creatures shoulders, having no legs only arms and a odd head, blue in it’s hue cutting off their exit. “Shame you four had to run, it gets old!” the devious little imp giggled aloud as the blonde haired warrior recognized the gnome from books of Lore he had read under his studies, his thoughts interrupted as the creatures turned back now stampeding towards him. With blade in hand he parried the harsh blow of one of the desperate creatures albeit barely with the second and third running past him, no intention of saving their comrade. Their cowardly run ended swiftly as a man upon a steed came from the shrubbery, hacking his blade through the beasts neck as it took two swings for his mighty blade to break through the thick hide and flesh, a deluge of blood painting the ground like some gothic mural of dark times. “Three days they run, three!” his voice filled with scorn as he looked upon the slain creature, grimacing at the foul stench they radiated. The warrior whom had nearly been victim to their attacks taking no time to gaze at the spectacle, pain relishing his senses as a long claw grazed his flesh leaving off a gaping wound four inches in length. Thanking the Light for it not being his sword arm he fell midway to the ground, his blade finding it’s home into the soft underbelly of the wretched creature that glared at him with a trance of hatred before blood frothed forth from his jaws, falling slumped to the ground.
Indeed, he felt blessed this day to stumble upon those whom were sent by the Light – in his own view of course. Kicking the creature over to it’s back, seeing that same hideous expression he tugged the sword thrice, feeling it lunged into its’ ribcage.” With a sigh he sheathed his blade, looking to where he saw the gnome hoping to gain knowledge of whom they were, his search ended when a firm mailed fist gripped his shoulder. Turning to face what he thought to be more devilry of the damned Silverpine Forest. Instead he found himself looking into the eyes of the warrior whom cut down one of the wretches. “Easy there lad, no harm intended.” The man himself was clad in a black array of chain mail with leather undergarments being seen visibly under the protective barrier, the oddly fashioned armor matching the ebon colored hair that covered his unshaved face and head. “You were fortunate lad, we were hunting these creatures for two days.”
His hand moving from the blonde haired warrior’s shoulder he bowed his head with a salute following suit after. “Hector Arisius, Paladin of Lordaeron – Ordained under Magnus the Just in order to try and replenish the lost numbers of the purging of the noble Silver Hand.” The raven-haired warrior stroked the neatly trimmed goatee at his chain, his eyes seeming to focus on Hectors’ eyes as though to delve into his soul.
“Then I welcome you Brother of the Light and by your accent you are also native to Lordaeron?” his inquiry answered with a swift, nonchalant nod. “I am Cain Dryden, leader of a band of wanderers from many lands who wish to staunch the flow of oppression within these forsaken lands.” No smile or usual courtesy was shown between the two as they kept eye contact with the seemed intention of learning more of the other.” I come to these lands from the remnants of the northern Alliance, led by Lady Jaina Proudmoore of Dalaran – little food have I eaten and even less rest, my intentions were to see what now has become of our devastated nation.”
His voice cracked slightly under strain, feeling a small tug at his leather britches with that little green haired gnome beaming up at him. “Cain! Let’s bring him to the camp, he can use a blade well enough and maybe he can cook better than ole Sinvrall.” The ebon clad Paladin gave a wry smile upon his thin lips, looking about the once more silenced forest. “Yes, let us make haste as not even men of the Light should tarry where it is darkest alone.”
