Post by Torrential on Jun 21, 2008 8:40:36 GMT -5
It would be unwise to stay in one place for too long.
So thought Roril V'radril as he kept up a fast pace through the thick snow that blanketed the Ularian Ridge. Nighttime had set upon the coldest region of Valear about an hour or so ago, Roril surmised, however he could not be sure; the Drow's sense of time had become questionable as of late. Roril had been on the run for weeks now, and he was beginning to grow weary of the chase. When would his assailants finally catch up with him? When would it all be over?
As Roril pounded on across the mountains, scimitars clanking in their sheaths, his mind went back to where it all began:
Roril was camping out in a small cavern along the side of one of the Ularian Ridge's many mountains. The fire he had erected was beginning to dim and die away. Outside the cavern, the onset of a blizzard was approaching; Roril would dare not go out of his cavern any time soon. Then, all of a sudden, many things happened at once: There was a deafening roar outside of Roril's cavern; a small explosion detonated near Roril's feet, sending him soaring to the back of the cavern; and a high, cold voice said "You shall not escape, my Dark Elf friend!"
Roril staggered to his feet, unsure of what had happened. At the place of the explosion, upon Roril's inspection, laid a curious object, some sort of artifact. Roril picked up the artifact, but instead of the burning sensation he had expected, the object was surprisingly cool to the touch. Before Roril could examine the object further, a huge beast made its way into the cavern. Roril looked up and saw a mountain troll staring down with angry eyes, a large club in hand. Stowing the artifact in a pouch on his belt, Roril drew his scimitars and quickly advanced upon the troll, slashing as he went. Roril made a few well-aimed nicks and slices on the troll's torso, which resulted in a loud roar of pain from the troll. Angry with its prey's attack, the troll let out another roar and swung its great club, aiming to kill. Roril easily sidestepped the attack and made another few slashes with his blades on the troll, but this time the troll did not falter. It kept swinging its club at Roril and Roril kept evading. Knowing he had to escape, Roril turned on the spot and slashed at the beast's wrist on his club-wielding arm. This made the beast cry and drop its club. Roril took the opportunity and fled the cavern, bearing against the approaching blizzard. He had to leave now, but to where was beyond him.
Nightfall had brought more cold than Roril could bear. Although his Drow heritage gave him perfect sight in darkness, the cold was dwindling Roril's strength. He knew not how much farther he could trek before he would collapse and succumb to the ridge's cold temperature. That might not be such a bad thing, he thought weakly as he sunk into the deep snow, all thought being wiped from his mind.....
So thought Roril V'radril as he kept up a fast pace through the thick snow that blanketed the Ularian Ridge. Nighttime had set upon the coldest region of Valear about an hour or so ago, Roril surmised, however he could not be sure; the Drow's sense of time had become questionable as of late. Roril had been on the run for weeks now, and he was beginning to grow weary of the chase. When would his assailants finally catch up with him? When would it all be over?
As Roril pounded on across the mountains, scimitars clanking in their sheaths, his mind went back to where it all began:
Roril was camping out in a small cavern along the side of one of the Ularian Ridge's many mountains. The fire he had erected was beginning to dim and die away. Outside the cavern, the onset of a blizzard was approaching; Roril would dare not go out of his cavern any time soon. Then, all of a sudden, many things happened at once: There was a deafening roar outside of Roril's cavern; a small explosion detonated near Roril's feet, sending him soaring to the back of the cavern; and a high, cold voice said "You shall not escape, my Dark Elf friend!"
Roril staggered to his feet, unsure of what had happened. At the place of the explosion, upon Roril's inspection, laid a curious object, some sort of artifact. Roril picked up the artifact, but instead of the burning sensation he had expected, the object was surprisingly cool to the touch. Before Roril could examine the object further, a huge beast made its way into the cavern. Roril looked up and saw a mountain troll staring down with angry eyes, a large club in hand. Stowing the artifact in a pouch on his belt, Roril drew his scimitars and quickly advanced upon the troll, slashing as he went. Roril made a few well-aimed nicks and slices on the troll's torso, which resulted in a loud roar of pain from the troll. Angry with its prey's attack, the troll let out another roar and swung its great club, aiming to kill. Roril easily sidestepped the attack and made another few slashes with his blades on the troll, but this time the troll did not falter. It kept swinging its club at Roril and Roril kept evading. Knowing he had to escape, Roril turned on the spot and slashed at the beast's wrist on his club-wielding arm. This made the beast cry and drop its club. Roril took the opportunity and fled the cavern, bearing against the approaching blizzard. He had to leave now, but to where was beyond him.
Nightfall had brought more cold than Roril could bear. Although his Drow heritage gave him perfect sight in darkness, the cold was dwindling Roril's strength. He knew not how much farther he could trek before he would collapse and succumb to the ridge's cold temperature. That might not be such a bad thing, he thought weakly as he sunk into the deep snow, all thought being wiped from his mind.....
' Bloody heck, two jobs and a BUNCH of kerfuffle later, and I'm back AGAIN.