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Post by Darron B'seil on Apr 14, 2007 19:24:40 GMT
Darron stood on a peak that jutted out from the tall mountain range. He looked down upon the small town, with the smoke rising from the roofs and the horses galloping through the lopsided alleyways and streets. He could make out small ant-like figures that looked to be doing something in unison. He strained his eyes even more to see. Then, he recognized it. It was a group of soldiers drilling.
He had been watching the town for a few days now, wondering how he could use the weak-minded humans to his advantage. There had to be something of value hidden in that town, even if he didn't know what just yet.
Before he could continue his plotting, Darron's foresight exploded. He swung around, grabbed his quarterstaff and concealed himself as a shadow. In his shadowy state, he ran to the cover of a tree's shade. He knew that he should have done a better job at hiding the campsite, but he wouldn't have had enough time. Hopefully he could kill the foe before it figured out he was still around.
Within four minutes, a person emerged. It was a human. He could smell the stench of the town on him. By the looks of him, a ranger. He had an arrow knocked, and was moving as if stalking prey. The young human called out, "Evil spirit! Dark elf! I know you have been hiding here. Come out, and maybe I won't have to kill you."
Darron rolled his eyes and noticed how shaky this human's voice was. No sense in wasting good prey. He could probably get some food or gold out of the ranger, and if this guy knew he was up here, letting him go back to the town would be a bad idea. Surely no one would miss him until it had been a few more weeks. He lay his quarterstaff down, unsheathed his dagger, and sprang from his hiding place. Before the human even heard the wind, Darron had firmly placed his blade inside the young man's head. He went down hard, and Darron smiled, "No human bests me. Ever."
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Post by Kayrm Hailis on Apr 14, 2007 20:18:20 GMT
Downwind, another ranger crept along, this one moving much more intelligently through the crags and timber. Golden strands swept across the back of his tanned hide longcoat, brushing off some dust that had accumulated. His hand, steady, practiced in the ways of the hunt, drew from a scabbard the dagger he reserved normally for skinning. From the forged steel, a serpentine hiss was carried out unto the wind.
Raging wildfires burned within his eyes. Just an hour before, when he'd been dispatched with the noisier man, Kayrm had warned the now-felled hunter that his mouth would have him dead in short order. Not only that, but the decisions of coming in with his bow at close-range, to announce his position oh-so-spectacularly, and to forsake the absence of shadows and relatively still winds made Kayrm question why he had to work alongside such a fireball-waiting-to-explode. He could feel his opinion of city-dwellers dropping tremendously as far as survival in nature went; aloof hunters rarely lasted for a week, and today was the seventh day of the chase.
Now, however, Kayrm saw full-well both the corpse of his traveling companion and the one who had killed him, an ash-skinned elf gripping the short blade locked into the other ranger's skull. The predictable stream of crimson started leaking out of the wound. Rivulets of vermilion fell into the dirt, which created an odd little soup. Thankfully to him, he was to their rear.
With the dark elf so encompassed with his quip to a cooling dead man, Kayrm acknowledged his time to strike; he came out low from the grasses, blade lashing out from its stabbing position to a silvery arc. His intention was to hamstring his quarry, such that he could at the least avoid fighting at a high speed until his adrenaline was flowing.
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Post by Darron B'seil on Apr 15, 2007 6:18:48 GMT
Darron felt a coldness on his leg. It was steel. The biting sting of a blade ripped into the flesh of his leg, and he rolled forward, trying to avoid a full cut. He managed to barely make it, but was still cut deeply. As he rolled, he had to let go of the dagger, as it was lodged very in the man's skull.
Darron found himself unarmed, injured, and cornered at the edge of the cliff. He was confident though. It was another human, and he had always been led to believe that dark elves could best humans no matter the conditions. He laughed, "A mere scratch? Hah! I'll show you how to do real injury to a foe."
He drew himself up as tall as possible, and chanted loudly and ominously to intimidate his opponent, "Om Sihr Rah!" and unleashed a shadow ball. He put a lot of energy into it, and while it made it incredibly potent, it had a few adverse effects. He had overestimated his strength, and was now incredibly fatigued, and since it was full of energy, it was wild and very inaccurate. It might just brush the man, or even miss entirely. He started to regret this boastful display of power.
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Post by Kayrm Hailis on Apr 22, 2007 11:48:13 GMT
With the time the dark elf had taken to gather himself, Kayrm had hopped back from his slashing position, then righted himself. With a quick toss, similar to one of the parlor tricks that some rogues employed to impress their opponents, he had his skinning blade in his left hand. In a flash of white steel, the rapier was drawn, as well, through nothing more than preparation for the kill. Closing the gap formed from the fleeing beast's attempt to make flight, he'd come in with the rapier forward and the dagger back, left arm bent, right straight, knees prepared to release energy much like springs.
Then came the black sphere.
His eyes reflected the ebony sheen of the black energy, and the woodsman instantly gained realization as to what it was. He broke into a run towards it, then he dove for the dirt, holding up the rapier to cleave into the shade. With luck, his weapon would dissipate the dark orb, thus eliminating any further problems with it. After the dive, and once he was clear of the ball, the ranger rolled onto his back, then climbed to his feet to face his adversary once more. A shimmer of yellow rolled over his eyes for just a second, before he readied his weapons once more.
"You were saying, wretch?"
( ( Sorry about taking so long. Final Fantasy XI has dominated my life. >.>; ) )
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Post by Darron B'seil on Apr 22, 2007 16:16:30 GMT
(no problem, it's all cool. I know the feeling)
Darron was fatigued, and he wasn't about to use any more sorcery. It would take too much out of him, and might just kill him.
Yet, there was no way that he would even consider defeat or surrender. How would he get out of this? He had no time to think, the hunter was ready to kill.
A brilliant idea struck Darron. He smiled, "I see, you aren't as weak as most of your race. You should be applauded, Mr. Ranger. Unfortunately for you, today is not the day I die. On the bright side, it also does not seem to be the day that you will die."
Darron backed to the edge of the cliff. He knew that there was only one way out, and it was risky, but definitely a better alternative to the definite death by the hands of the ranger.
"You're an adequate foe, and I hope that I will have the pleasure to battle you at some time in the near future. Farewell."
With that, he simply took one more step backward, and let himself fall. As he was plunging downward, he curled into a ball, and got ready to roll. About fifteen feet down, he hit a steep slope, it was grassy though, and didn't do too much harm to him. He hit the slope and rolled. The impact, however, caused him to be thrown wildly in the air. He was still falling, and had lost control.
So much for a better alternative.
Darron thought all was lost, and that he should have stayed to fight, and was almost ready to die, when he remembered something that he had heard from old stories. A mythical dark elf hero once climbed to the top of the tallest mountain in the land, and fought with a rock golem. He was thrown off the top, but was able to save himself. He Stuck out his legs, and let them catch the side of the mountain. He suffered a broken ankle, a few fractured rips, and a lot of bruises and bleeding, but he didn't die.
Darron figured it was his best hope, so stuck out his legs, ready to catch the side of the mountain, that had now turned to rock. He made contact, and heard a crunching noise. There was a sharp pain that shot through his ankles up his legs, but he impact slowed him down. Now he was almost stopped, and just slowly sliding down the mountain. He realized that his legs were being pulled back in positions that they should not be pulled into, and were bleeding profusely. Darron managed to roll onto his stomach, and grab a sturdy rock. There, he hung and waited. He looked up at the cliff, to see if the ranger would be able to find him. In his current position, he was well hidden, but also a sitting duck if the ranger was able to see him. He was sure that the rocks covered him up and, that even if he was visible, the blood would convince the ranger that Darron had died.
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Post by Kayrm Hailis on Apr 30, 2007 1:33:29 GMT
Kayrm ran for the edge, coming to a knee a safe distance from the lip of the cliff. Using his weapon-hands to steady his upper body, the blond hunter peered down from the ledge. From the looks of things, crimson streaks followed the body of what looked to be a simple pile of rocks. Resorting to predatory traits inherited through his training as a ranger, Kayrm sniffed the air twice, only to involuntarily twist his head away and sneeze. The air was much too thick with dust to get a good scent, let alone a decent image of what remained, aside from the obvious pile of rocks.
The ranger looked from the rockpile to the cliff face. There were no easily-grasped footholds, and the nearest path by foot would take a good ten minutes to reach. Kayrm knew, though, that if the elf had survived, it would be injured, injured enough to not walk away. From personal experience, he knew that injured, cornered beasts tended to play all-or-nothing tactics, thus he decided to allow the dark elf his wish; neither of them would die this day, should he have survived. If any questions were asked, he would conveniently have a panic attack and hurry back out.
"For your words, wretch, I will do you a service," Kayrm shouted to the pile of rocks beneath. "I'll say you're dead, since you've obviously taken more than your share of injuries. We'll call it even for you, since it will be fun enough to watch over your struggles. Be wary of the woods, ashen one!"
Kayrm rose to his feet, and walked back the way he came after resheathing his blades. It would be a slow hike back to the town, but he had a long few days ahead of him. What proof did he have, after all, of the elf's presumed death, but for some caked blood on the steel of his dagger?
With a whisper that carried hauntingly upon the dry winds of the grassy crag, words passed the ranger's lips.
"Worry not, my quarry, you will be dead by the filling of the next moon..."
(Out)
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Post by Darron B'seil on Apr 30, 2007 20:58:14 GMT
Darron saw the ranger walk away from the edge of the cliff, but he didn't move. Partly because he didn't know if the man was really gone, and partly because his legs were in immense pain.
After a few minutes, he thought that he heard something. A faint whisper, it was. It seemed almost ominous, and challenging. He brushed it to the side of his mind, and decided it must have his ears playing tricks on him. Hell, he had just fallen off a cliff, his brain obviously wouldn't be expected to function entirely properly.
When the sun started setting in the western horizon, he knew that he had to move or be eaten by the scavengers of the night.
Darron grabbed a rock above him, and tried pulling up. His legs dangled from under him, and he yelled in pain. This wouldn't work.
What a moron I am. I can't move a bit, he thought to himself.
The dark elf would have to make camp here, lying in his own blood. Maybe after a few days of rest, his bones would heal enough for him to be able to crawl. For now, he gathered a few twigs and leaves from around himself, and concentrated all his remaining power into a spark. It ignited the bundle of scraps, and gave him a small blaze that was just large enough to keep him at a moderate temperature.
Five days passed, each day he became weaker, and was barely able to survive off of the small lizards that he caught crawling on the rocks. It was the afternoon of the fifth day, and the sun was high in the sky. He couldn't survive like this any longer. Slowly, he reached up and grasped a rock. He tugged himself up. The pain was intense, but bearable. Inch by inch, he dragged his bleeding body and legs up the steep slope to a place where the woods began. Once there, he managed to get into the shade, and out of the sun that had been damaging his light-deprived skin.
Darron collapsed in a pool of sweat. He was back into the forest, and closer to safety. He would rest here for a little while.
(out)
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