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Posts Tagged ‘Fantasy’

The battle for Blade’s Edge wasn’t a complete unmitigated disaster.

Just mostly so.

It started out normal enough. The ogres were beginning to harass travelers. There was even a not-so-successful attack against Mok’Nathal Village.

The idea was to bloody their nose a little bit. They could give the Laughing Skull Clan a good wallop, and they would crawl back into their canyons leaving travelers alone.

At least, that was the plan.

Khesed could have figured out that things weren’t going to go well. He still couldn’t get his thoughts straight, even on the wyvern flight to Mok’Nathal Village.

He would try to center himself. He firmly believed in the “mind-no-mind” concept of battle. Working out of instinct and years of training. He often used the wyvern flights as a time to calm his mind, clear it of distractions, and ready himself for the battle.

Today was different.

He still smelled her.  He still felt her. He still saw her in his mind’s eye.

Everytime he closed his eyes to meditate, he would see her eyes looking back at him.

They landed and imediately went into formation. His squad formed up behind him quickly.  They were a part of a larger group, made up of five squads; twelve combatants per squad.  Each squad made up of two healers, two heavily armored meat shields, with eight heavy damage dealers made up of mages, archers, and explosive melee types.

Khesed and Krum made up the meat shield contingent. Xexell, of course, loved to light people up from afar as a fire mage.

The larger contingent made its way down into the cavern, seeing the Ogre’s huts in the distance.

About five miles out, they broke into their squads, each focusing on a particular area to subdue.  They were to take out most of the leaders they come across, which would end up quelling the Ogre’s attacks for a while.

Of course, that meant looking for the largest, ugliest, utterly disgusting Ogres they could find.

Khesed’s group was responsible for the southern portion, closest to the cave route leading to the Orebor Harborage.

They attacked as they usually did. They start with the “shock and awe,” of fire balls and explosive shots.

“Sneak attack” wasn’t their normal mode of operation.

On top of it, Khesed’s mind never got into the right place.

His reactions were just a second slower than usual.  His normal prayers and spells, which usually flowed from his lips, came haltingly.

Halfway through the fight, with a giant Ogre looming overhead, Khesed found himself flat on his back with a huge club coming down towards his head.

All he could see was a single Draenei face, with a single sultry-quirky smile.

A huge blast of fire brought him out of it, rocking the Ogre back; its club falling away in splinters.  He see’s Krum practically leap forward, as a bullet out of a rifle, shield first, slamming into the chest of the giant beast.  He heard Xexell screaming, “Khesed!”

Khesed vaguely thinks to himself, “Xexell, she must have been where the fireball came from.”

He hears a grunt come from Krum, as he takes the Ogre’s head off at the shoulders with one massive swipe of his sword.

Arising, Krum looks at him, “Khes…what is your problem!? Get up Blood Knight, before I put my everlovin’ foot up your Blood Elf ass!”

“MOVE IT!”

Coming to his senses, Khesed picks himself up. Faltering a bit, unsteady on his feet, Xexell comes quickly to his side. Sending off a magical bolt of ice past Khesed’s head, she takes him under his arm. Leaning upon her, they make their way to the back of the line.

Khesed never remembered very much of that battle in days to come. He took some brutal hits, and later found out that he had almost died if not for the healers on hand. The one thing he did remember was a face of a Draenei woman making its way in and out of his consciousness.

When Khesed came fully awake, he saw the huge form of Krum lying in a cot against a far wall of his room. Somehow, they had gotten him back to Shattrath City. Trying to sit up, a gasp escaped his lips. Khesed was sure that he had more than one busted rib. Krum turned over, noticing that Khesed was awake. Sitting up, “How are you doing, Khes?  Feeling a bit better?”

Grimacing, Khesed said, “I’ve seen worse. You would think that the healers would have mended my ribs though.”

Krum smiled a bit, “They wanted to; but the Commander told them not to. He said something about lessons needing to be learned; and the best teacher being pain.”

“Well, aren’t I the lucky one then. The Commander being so worked up over my continuing education and all.” Khesed couldn’t help but smile at that.  He knew good and well that the Commander only cared about battle readiness. If he thought you weren’t going to learn from something, he was just as quick to turn you into a cook than keep you in a battle division.

“At least he thinks I’m salvageable,” Khesed said has he gingerly poked at his bandaged ribs.

Krum looked at him, “Look Khes, I’m don’t know what’s going on. But, you need to take care of this.  You were distracted out there. It almost killed you, and could have killed us as well.”

Giving Khesed a firm nod, “You need to figure out what you need to do concerning this Draenei woman. For your sake, and ours.”

Arising to leave, Krum looked back; “I’m your friend. I’m with you, no matter what happens. Just… Just, don’t be stupid. You damn Blood Elves get so caught up in yourselves. Don’t make me knock some sense into your pointy eared skull. Why you would prefer Spacegoat when there is beautiful, bountiful, wonderful Orc female flesh out there is beyond me!”

Smiling at his friend, Krum took his leave mumbling about needing something to eat.

He was right, Khesed knew it.  He had to come to his senses concerning this Aldor maiden.  Surely he wasn’t falling in love. Oh, by all the ancestors, NO!  But, he had to admit that his inability to concentrate was overwhelming.

He needed to find her…at least one more time.

Trying to get up, he ended up falling back into the bed. The pain in his chest was just to great.  He was too weak for his own healing abilities to take affect. Looked like it was going to be another day of resting before he could get back to the World’s End Tavern to possibly run into her.

Looking towards the far wall, he notices his reflection in a mirror.

“Falling in love with a Draenei, Khesed?  Almost getting yourself killed? Any other great ideas, you dumb bastard?”

With that, he laid back down for some of that rest he so desperately needed.

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The walk was a bit longer than anticipated.  Dreah was pulling his bounty on a small sled behind him.  While the going was relatively easy, he was still pulling three dressed carcasses.  He thought about hooking Tike up to it, but per Tike’s usual clairvoyance; he ran off into the woods as soon as Dreah had the thought.

It wasn’t with just a bit of aching muscles that Dreah’s face lit up in a big smile as he rounded the corner and saw his cottage in the distance.

Looking closer, he noticed a familiar horse-drawn buggy outside of the cottage.  It was Lorindra’s parents!

He looked down at Tike, as he walked along side of him, “Looks like we’ll have company tonight, big guy!”  Tike looked at him incredulously, “Dah and Mum are with us, so you be on your best behavior.”  Dreah gave a firm nod to show Tike that he was serious.

At that, Tike bound into the woods, giving a “sniff” in Dreah’s general direction.

“Oh well, fair enough.  Stay out of trouble you old hound!” Shouted Dreah as Tike ran off.

Tike never was much of a house dog anyway, Dreah thought to himself.

Dreah didn’t head into the cottage immediately, first he had to take care of his kills.  He did knock on the door, though, to let them know he was home.

Dah came out immediately. “Dreah, there is something wrong with Lorindra. She isn’t feeling well!”

Dreah sprinted inside, forgetting about the three carcasses yet to be processed.

Lorindra was laying on the day bed, that doubled as a couch in their open area room.  Mum was sitting beside her, applying a wet cool cloth to her head.

Mum said, “Drin and Wrin ran to our house yesterday, telling us that she had fallen ill.  Dah has called for the Creal, but he was away picking those blasted flowers of his!”  She started weeping.  “He left a message.  Oh Dreah, I hope he comes soon.”

Creal was the local healer.  He was an herbalist of sorts, knowing every plant in the area and their different useful properties.  He also had some magic about him, particularly attuned to nature some believe.  We’ve never asked him; just glad that someone with his ability had taken up residence in our little frontier hamlet.

“She’s been drinking a bit of this broth I made for her,” Mum said, “but, she doesn’t take much.”

“I’ve been up with her all night, Dreah.” Sniffles beginning again.

“Mum, it’s my turn now.  Go see what Dah is doing. I don’t remember following me in.” Taking the wet cloth, Dreah delicately stroked his beloved’s brow.

Mum nodded.  “I’ll go check on him now,” she said as she stood up to leave.

“Drin, Wrin!  Where are you boys.”  Dreah looked around.

He heard them before he saw them, shuffling down the stairs.  They looked down at their dad, tears in their already red and swollen eyes.

“Dad!” They ran to him, burying their faces in his lap.

Through muffled sobs Dreah could hear, “We tried to get Dah and Mum, but mom is sick.  We had to leave her, but we didn’t want to. She made us go, we didn’t want to!” Drin cried as he tried to speak.

“My boys, it’s ok. You did the right thing.  Mom will get better.  She’ll be alright.” Dreah looked deeply into his children’s fearful faces.

“She will, dad?” Wrin said.

“Yes son, she will.  I’ll make sure of it,” Dreah said.

Dreah looked up to hide the tear that was beginning to fall from his own eye.

“Now, where is that fell-fetched healer!” Dreah said in exasperation.

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Thus continues the saga of Dreah Darkholder.
This is a fictional/fantasy writing on Zwingli’s Blog, for NaNoWriMo. If you read this anywhere other than Zwingli’s Blog, then I’m flattered!
Z

 

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I was once told by a professor I dearly loved, “we all have at least one book in us.”

I believe him.  After much thought, I’ve decided to participate in NaNoWriMo.  The silly thing is, it took BBB’s post to remind me that today was the beginning of it!

Thanks Bear!

So, in honor of NaNoWriMo and my brand spankin’ new computer, we’re off to writing!

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Dreah had been hunting for a couple of days.

This wasn’t unusual. When he hunted, it was usually for three or more days at a time.  He didn’t go often, at least not any more.  Not since he had gotten United.  The last thing he wanted to do was be gone from his better-half, Lorindra for very long.

Let’s not forget the kids!  They had been blessed with two beautiful, if not exasperating boys.

Yes, the last thing he wanted was to be traipsing through the woods for weeks at a time.  Some called him a hunter, others called him a ranger, some just called him a woodsman.  He thought of himself as “her’s.” There was no longer a “me,” just a “we” in his mind.

The unusual thing would have been the absence of any game being bagged.  Now, that would be highly unusual!

Per the ordinary, he was bringing back plenty of food.

He had brought down a deer.  He liked deer…A Lot!  This particular doe was on her last legs, quite literally since her back left leg seemed to had gone lame.  He knew that she wouldn’t see but a few more nights before being caught by the wolves in the area.

He had thought about taking the old buck.  He was well into his twilight years as well.  There were plenty of young stags around to take his place.  But, when the time came to take the shot, he just couldn’t.

Perhaps because he felt sorry for him. Maybe because he was starting to feel his age as well.  Maybe because he wanted to give some other hunter a chance at bagging him.

He didn’t know.  He just knows that he couldn’t take the shot.

He had also brought down a couple of wild hogs.  Not that he liked them as much as deer, but they were becoming a nuisance to the outlying farmers.  These were the easiest to find.  He had promised farmer Leland to take a couple from his land on his way back home.  One day of analyzing the tracks and rutting behavior.  One early evening to catch them unaware.

Now, the family will have both deer and pork in abundance for quite a while!

Sausage, jerky, smoked, salt cured… Oh how he could taste the goodness already!

And bacon.  He loved bacon.  He was convinced that bacon could make any meal better!

He looked up at the sun.  It was about mid-afternoon by his reckoning.

He let out a loud whistle, and barked out: “Tike!  Where are you boy!”

Out of the woods, ahead of him along the path, he heard a bark.  Through the underbrush bound a big black dog!

He was truly a mut, by every standard.  Sure, you could make out the water-dog breeding, but other than that you just couldn’t be sure.

He wasn’t as big as some dogs.  But, his head came up right above Dreah’s waste.  He weighed in at right over one hundred pounds.  He would almost be called lithe and muscular, if he wasn’t quite so big.

A nice black dog, with a single while line bisecting his chin, falling along his neck, onto his chest. It ended into a white star-burst on Tike’s chest.

He had been Dreah’s companion for many years. Truly, best of friends.  Hunting, tracking, even fighting together in the wilds.  It was almost as if Tike could read Dreah’s thoughts.  As if he knew of Dreah’s intentions before the action ever came. Almost like one Intention working through two bodies.

Dreah just felt blessed that Tike was by his side.

Another hour and they would be home.

Dreah couldn’t wait!

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Thus begins the saga of Dreah Darkholder…
This is a fictional/fantasy writing on Zwingli’s Blog, for NaNoWriMo. If you read this anywhere other than Zwingli’s Blog, then I’m flattered!
Z

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