- Joined
- Apr 9, 2008
- Messages
- 147
A WIP of mine, thought I might show what I have so far. It's not a ton, but it sets the premise. Kind of. Enjoy! Comments/Crit appreciated.
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There was no sun today, nor blue sky. Only great clouds, and below them a flurry of snow. The snowy wastes stretched for miles on in all directions, nothing but dead trees and small rock formations stood atop the white blanket. But even in such a desolate place, there was life.
He traveled quickly, his feet hardly sinking into the snow. He could see the creature ahead. A young ram, with a thick coat of brown fur and winding horns. He now crept down; an angry ram meant a dead hunter. He held no bow; the cold made it necessary to wear thick gloves, not ideal for holding such a fragile weapon. But more importantly, the hunter despised the things; he believed that such was the tool of a coward. And so he crept forward, axe in hand. His entire body was bound in thick leather and a large ram’s fur cloak (one he crafted himself). He threw the cloak down; it was too cumbersome for battle. He crept forward, the ram currently tending to something on the ground. Then with a sudden burst of speed he charged forward, his axe cleaving through the beast’s hind. It collapsed to the ground. It thrashed and struggled, but it soon lay silent after the hunter’s second strike. The hunter drew his skinning knife and began his work. His slices were careful, and revealed his mastery of the craft. When he had finished, he let out a sharp whistle. From over the hill emerged a hulking form of white; it certainly blended with the environment. The hunter beckoned the beast over. “Come, Garr. Have your fill.” As the creature came closer, it was evident that it was one of the mighty polar bears. Those who have ever met the hunter were mystified by the majestic creature at his side, one that would normally tear apart anything in its site. As Garr feasted upon the Ram, the hunter tended to what the ram was a moment ago; frostberries. A large plant that, somehow, grew threw blankets of snow. In fact, it seemed that the cold strengthened it. The hunter had no idea how it did so, he just knew it did, and that they fetched a good price. He carefully picked the berries one by one and placed them in a leather pouch. After sealing it, he tied the furs to Garr’s back, threw his cloak over him, grabbed his axe, and headed out. The hunter used his axe as a walking stick as well, for the axe head was situated upon a long iron shaft. Inscribed down it was the hunter’s bloodline, from seven generations back. The names ended with his: Kias. For each one carried that axe through life, and passed it down to their eldest son. It was his greatest possession, and in the coming days, it would certainly prove its worth.
The sun was beginning to set as Kias returned to his home: It was a structure of wood and reinforced with ice and snow. From and outward glance it would’ve appeared an igloo. He took the furs from Garr’s back and placed them in a massive chest outside of his house, and then stepped inside. Garr obediently waited outside. After all, it was his natural home. It was a single room inside, and rather cramped. If Kias was but an inch taller, he would be hitting his head on the support beams that held the roof up. At the far end lay his bed. The woodwork was of his own doing, though the sheets were imported; the cover was wolf fur. A small table sat to the left, an unlit candle being the centerpiece. There were two chairs there, though Kias had not had company for a long time. To the right were two small chests full of clothes and gear. His cloak hung high next to the door, the bottom of it reaching down to gently brush against Garr’s idle saddle. Kias rarely rode the proud beast, but it was necessary for him to make it back to town: a twelve mile journey. At the end of every week he would go down there and sell his furs, and anything else he would find of worth. He was one of the only hunters that worked in the wastes, and because of it, his items were of great value. It was a difficult trade, but Kias found it rewarding.
The sun was below the horizon now; night had set. The only sounds outside were the icy wind and the baying of wolves. By now Kias was used to the noises. In fact, he might argue they help him sleep. He had settled into his bed and doused the candles he had lit but an hour ago. His lids closed, and he began to drift away, until he heard a noise. His eyes popped open and he stood up. He stood still, waiting to hear the noise again. It did. Garr was growling. Kias wore a quizzical look. The beast rarely growled at night, unless something was afoot. Even then, Kias never would have expected what awaited him.
The hunter quickly put on his boots and threw on his cloak, grabbed his axe, and stepped outside. Thankfully the snow had died down. He came to Garr. “What is it, boy? What’s wrong?” The bear only kept growling out towards the wastes. Kias looked, to see what was amiss. And then he saw it. A hulking figure stood in the distance, perhaps a hundred yards out. It stood like a man but was far too tall to be so. “Hold still, Garr. I’ll be right back.” Kias rushed into his house and grabbed his telescope from his chest. He then sped right back outside, and extended the object to its full length, and took a look through it. The thing was tall; must’ve been eight feet tall. Muscular too, and pale blue skin. While strange, it did not look very non-human. Its face, however, was anything but human. Its hair was coarse and messy; black in color. The eyes were large, though Kias couldn’t see the color of the iris. It had a large pointed nose. The large mouth extended outward. It had jagged teeth and large tusks. Kias couldn’t believe his eyes. It was a troll.
He had not seen its like before, save in old compendiums. That was really the only way he knew of how it looks, and from old stories. The beast seemed to be observing Kias’s home, as well as Garr and he. It seemed to suddenly notice Kias was looking at it through his telescope. Its already terrible face twisted into a grimace. It roared, and charged. Before Kias could even do anything, Garr began charging as well. Kias desperately chased after the beast. Garr was strong, but no match for a troll, or at least if the stories were true. Garr let out a ferocious roar and dove at the unarmed creature. The troll through the massive bear aside and it toppled into the snow. The thing turned toward Garr, his right hand reaching outward. But it only met the cold blade of Kias’s axe. It howled in pain as it stumbled backward, its hand now lying in the bloodstained snow. It cried out something incoherent and then lunged for Kias. Its massive hand grasped for him, but the hunter leapt back. The troll then swept his hand at him, as if it were a mace. The blow was mighty, as it struck Kias’s shoulder, and the hunter fell into the snow. As he did, Garr launched another attack, attempting to bite into the creature’s leg. The polar bear weaved through the troll’s attacks, and managed to tear at the monster’s ankle. It howled once more in pain. Garr held onto the ankle; in the end, it was to the beast’s folly, as the troll came down hard upon the bear with his fist. Several feet away, Kias crept towards his axe. Just as his fingers wrapped around the blade, he saw the troll come at him. It planted its foot atop the axe; it was useless now. Kias rolled away, narrowly avoiding the troll’s other foot. He leapt up and sprinted backwards a bit, increasing the distance between himself and this monster. He saw Garr was unconscious, or worse. It limped toward him, muttering in some strange language. As the monster got close, Kias sprinted forward and dove in between its legs. He then pivoted backward, now facing the troll’s back, and shoved his foot into the beast’s torn ankle. It let out a harsh cry and toppled downward, collapsing in the snow. Kias was quick to retrieve his axe. As the creature got to its knees, Kias was ready. He twirled the axe above his head for one rotation until bringing it down upon the troll’s arm, which was held out in defense. Without hands, the creature cried in anger and fear, but it would not have to worry. Its sad existence was soon to end. Kias raised his axe high; the blade lingered for but a moment, and then it came down hard into the beast’s skull. He ripped out the blade; the troll was dead. The moment that its mutilated head dropped to the ground, Kias rushed to Garr. The beast was alive, and conscious. But several of its bones were broken in its front-left leg. He couldn’t even drag the poor thing back to the hut. Instead he ran back himself, gathering some bandaging, and quickly bound the wound. Garr would not die, as most beasts would in that situation, but this meant total isolation. Kias could not go to town without Garr. Even if he tried it on foot, he would be leaving Garr helpless and without food. No, he would have to stay put.
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There was no sun today, nor blue sky. Only great clouds, and below them a flurry of snow. The snowy wastes stretched for miles on in all directions, nothing but dead trees and small rock formations stood atop the white blanket. But even in such a desolate place, there was life.
He traveled quickly, his feet hardly sinking into the snow. He could see the creature ahead. A young ram, with a thick coat of brown fur and winding horns. He now crept down; an angry ram meant a dead hunter. He held no bow; the cold made it necessary to wear thick gloves, not ideal for holding such a fragile weapon. But more importantly, the hunter despised the things; he believed that such was the tool of a coward. And so he crept forward, axe in hand. His entire body was bound in thick leather and a large ram’s fur cloak (one he crafted himself). He threw the cloak down; it was too cumbersome for battle. He crept forward, the ram currently tending to something on the ground. Then with a sudden burst of speed he charged forward, his axe cleaving through the beast’s hind. It collapsed to the ground. It thrashed and struggled, but it soon lay silent after the hunter’s second strike. The hunter drew his skinning knife and began his work. His slices were careful, and revealed his mastery of the craft. When he had finished, he let out a sharp whistle. From over the hill emerged a hulking form of white; it certainly blended with the environment. The hunter beckoned the beast over. “Come, Garr. Have your fill.” As the creature came closer, it was evident that it was one of the mighty polar bears. Those who have ever met the hunter were mystified by the majestic creature at his side, one that would normally tear apart anything in its site. As Garr feasted upon the Ram, the hunter tended to what the ram was a moment ago; frostberries. A large plant that, somehow, grew threw blankets of snow. In fact, it seemed that the cold strengthened it. The hunter had no idea how it did so, he just knew it did, and that they fetched a good price. He carefully picked the berries one by one and placed them in a leather pouch. After sealing it, he tied the furs to Garr’s back, threw his cloak over him, grabbed his axe, and headed out. The hunter used his axe as a walking stick as well, for the axe head was situated upon a long iron shaft. Inscribed down it was the hunter’s bloodline, from seven generations back. The names ended with his: Kias. For each one carried that axe through life, and passed it down to their eldest son. It was his greatest possession, and in the coming days, it would certainly prove its worth.
The sun was beginning to set as Kias returned to his home: It was a structure of wood and reinforced with ice and snow. From and outward glance it would’ve appeared an igloo. He took the furs from Garr’s back and placed them in a massive chest outside of his house, and then stepped inside. Garr obediently waited outside. After all, it was his natural home. It was a single room inside, and rather cramped. If Kias was but an inch taller, he would be hitting his head on the support beams that held the roof up. At the far end lay his bed. The woodwork was of his own doing, though the sheets were imported; the cover was wolf fur. A small table sat to the left, an unlit candle being the centerpiece. There were two chairs there, though Kias had not had company for a long time. To the right were two small chests full of clothes and gear. His cloak hung high next to the door, the bottom of it reaching down to gently brush against Garr’s idle saddle. Kias rarely rode the proud beast, but it was necessary for him to make it back to town: a twelve mile journey. At the end of every week he would go down there and sell his furs, and anything else he would find of worth. He was one of the only hunters that worked in the wastes, and because of it, his items were of great value. It was a difficult trade, but Kias found it rewarding.
The sun was below the horizon now; night had set. The only sounds outside were the icy wind and the baying of wolves. By now Kias was used to the noises. In fact, he might argue they help him sleep. He had settled into his bed and doused the candles he had lit but an hour ago. His lids closed, and he began to drift away, until he heard a noise. His eyes popped open and he stood up. He stood still, waiting to hear the noise again. It did. Garr was growling. Kias wore a quizzical look. The beast rarely growled at night, unless something was afoot. Even then, Kias never would have expected what awaited him.
The hunter quickly put on his boots and threw on his cloak, grabbed his axe, and stepped outside. Thankfully the snow had died down. He came to Garr. “What is it, boy? What’s wrong?” The bear only kept growling out towards the wastes. Kias looked, to see what was amiss. And then he saw it. A hulking figure stood in the distance, perhaps a hundred yards out. It stood like a man but was far too tall to be so. “Hold still, Garr. I’ll be right back.” Kias rushed into his house and grabbed his telescope from his chest. He then sped right back outside, and extended the object to its full length, and took a look through it. The thing was tall; must’ve been eight feet tall. Muscular too, and pale blue skin. While strange, it did not look very non-human. Its face, however, was anything but human. Its hair was coarse and messy; black in color. The eyes were large, though Kias couldn’t see the color of the iris. It had a large pointed nose. The large mouth extended outward. It had jagged teeth and large tusks. Kias couldn’t believe his eyes. It was a troll.
He had not seen its like before, save in old compendiums. That was really the only way he knew of how it looks, and from old stories. The beast seemed to be observing Kias’s home, as well as Garr and he. It seemed to suddenly notice Kias was looking at it through his telescope. Its already terrible face twisted into a grimace. It roared, and charged. Before Kias could even do anything, Garr began charging as well. Kias desperately chased after the beast. Garr was strong, but no match for a troll, or at least if the stories were true. Garr let out a ferocious roar and dove at the unarmed creature. The troll through the massive bear aside and it toppled into the snow. The thing turned toward Garr, his right hand reaching outward. But it only met the cold blade of Kias’s axe. It howled in pain as it stumbled backward, its hand now lying in the bloodstained snow. It cried out something incoherent and then lunged for Kias. Its massive hand grasped for him, but the hunter leapt back. The troll then swept his hand at him, as if it were a mace. The blow was mighty, as it struck Kias’s shoulder, and the hunter fell into the snow. As he did, Garr launched another attack, attempting to bite into the creature’s leg. The polar bear weaved through the troll’s attacks, and managed to tear at the monster’s ankle. It howled once more in pain. Garr held onto the ankle; in the end, it was to the beast’s folly, as the troll came down hard upon the bear with his fist. Several feet away, Kias crept towards his axe. Just as his fingers wrapped around the blade, he saw the troll come at him. It planted its foot atop the axe; it was useless now. Kias rolled away, narrowly avoiding the troll’s other foot. He leapt up and sprinted backwards a bit, increasing the distance between himself and this monster. He saw Garr was unconscious, or worse. It limped toward him, muttering in some strange language. As the monster got close, Kias sprinted forward and dove in between its legs. He then pivoted backward, now facing the troll’s back, and shoved his foot into the beast’s torn ankle. It let out a harsh cry and toppled downward, collapsing in the snow. Kias was quick to retrieve his axe. As the creature got to its knees, Kias was ready. He twirled the axe above his head for one rotation until bringing it down upon the troll’s arm, which was held out in defense. Without hands, the creature cried in anger and fear, but it would not have to worry. Its sad existence was soon to end. Kias raised his axe high; the blade lingered for but a moment, and then it came down hard into the beast’s skull. He ripped out the blade; the troll was dead. The moment that its mutilated head dropped to the ground, Kias rushed to Garr. The beast was alive, and conscious. But several of its bones were broken in its front-left leg. He couldn’t even drag the poor thing back to the hut. Instead he ran back himself, gathering some bandaging, and quickly bound the wound. Garr would not die, as most beasts would in that situation, but this meant total isolation. Kias could not go to town without Garr. Even if he tried it on foot, he would be leaving Garr helpless and without food. No, he would have to stay put.
