Captbigbeard
04-23-2006, 02:46 PM
Crickets chirped their cliché midnight symphony. A slight breeze swept threw the forest, strong enough to ruffle only the smallest of shrubs. If anything the scenery was relaxing. The crickets went quiet in a small clearing, underneath a specifically large tree; the crunching of booted feet silencing the small insects. A stunted figure clumsily tripped into view through the underbrush. A dwarf, not a human dwarf, but one of a race unto it’s self. He was as average as a dwarf could be, round faced, facial features and beer gut covered by a thick bushy black beard, now tangled after the romp in the forest. His stout body, thick and compact, was covered by roughened leather work attire. He cut the typical dwarf figure, but even so, he was far from attractive in anyway.
Although he would never admit it to anyone or even himself, this particular dwarf was quite lost. In truth he wouldn’t even be able to retrace his steps in his stubborn and reckless march. A sweaty brow and lack of breath told of a long night of stumbling in no particular direction. If the thought of stopping held any place in the dwarfs mind, he let no hint of it show, far too much pride! A dwarf, although considerably human like in appearance, holds a much different train of thought, almost alienly so.
To the eye, untrained or not, the dwarf appeared utterly alone in the woods, no other sentient beings for miles in either direction… but like most things, even the eye lies. For the good part of the past two hours, the dwarf’s every step was trailed by a being that despite being made of flesh seemed invisible. Large almond shaped eyes peered like daggers into the dwarfs back, an elf, a wood elf… so attuned to the forest he was akin to it, as much a part of the woods as any tree or blade of grass. Following the dwarf was easier then following a giant. No other creature, even ten times larger made so many grunts and curses. To the elf the dwarf seemed to want to crush every flower and twig in view. Then again the elf could run threw a field of grass, eyes closed, and leave no trace.
Holding bow aimed and ready, the elf was undecided of what to do, but with each careless dwarf stomp, his options became clearer. Unbeknownst to the squat bearded dwarf, he was heading toward wood elf territory; in fact he was on a dead strait course for it. The wood elf could hardly tell the dwarf to stop, they didn’t like being told what to do, pity on an elf who dares order a dwarf around. Then again, the wood elf couldn’t just kill the dwarf, albeit if the dwarf was not averted from his path, death was the only certainty.
With a silent sigh, the elf came to a conclusion; he would just draw the dwarf off track. While they had an uncanny sense of direction underground, above ground dwarfs wouldn’t be able to tell north from south. Before trying anything hasty, the elf would attempt a trade of words. If any hostility was presented the elf was sure he could handle it. Arrogance... the bane of all elves. Almost magically so, the elf literally appeared out of seemingly no where, assured that at a whim he could meld back into the thick brush.
The dwarf almost jumped at the sight… almost. “Hello good dwarf. Perhaps you would be so kind as too,” and the elf stopped for the forest seemed to explode.
Throughout the elf’s whole life, he had heard the dwarfs slandered by his woodland kin. They were supposed to be slow, dim witted creatures. No where near able to compete with an elf’s speed! But now the elf stared in utter shock at the smoking barrel of the dwarf’s gun. He hadn’t even seen the dwarf draw the small elegant pistol, let alone fire the damned thing. Mechanically the elf moved his hand to his chest; he didn’t feel any pain but dared not look, regardless his hands knew where to go. With a small hint of a smile the elf fell backwards, the last thing he felt being nothing, where his chest should have been.
The dwarf looked at the fist sized hole within the elf’s chest. He chuckled grimly to himself, he wasn’t lost after all! The elves were close… time to settle a grudge.
(sorry for grammer mistakes, made this quickly!)
Although he would never admit it to anyone or even himself, this particular dwarf was quite lost. In truth he wouldn’t even be able to retrace his steps in his stubborn and reckless march. A sweaty brow and lack of breath told of a long night of stumbling in no particular direction. If the thought of stopping held any place in the dwarfs mind, he let no hint of it show, far too much pride! A dwarf, although considerably human like in appearance, holds a much different train of thought, almost alienly so.
To the eye, untrained or not, the dwarf appeared utterly alone in the woods, no other sentient beings for miles in either direction… but like most things, even the eye lies. For the good part of the past two hours, the dwarf’s every step was trailed by a being that despite being made of flesh seemed invisible. Large almond shaped eyes peered like daggers into the dwarfs back, an elf, a wood elf… so attuned to the forest he was akin to it, as much a part of the woods as any tree or blade of grass. Following the dwarf was easier then following a giant. No other creature, even ten times larger made so many grunts and curses. To the elf the dwarf seemed to want to crush every flower and twig in view. Then again the elf could run threw a field of grass, eyes closed, and leave no trace.
Holding bow aimed and ready, the elf was undecided of what to do, but with each careless dwarf stomp, his options became clearer. Unbeknownst to the squat bearded dwarf, he was heading toward wood elf territory; in fact he was on a dead strait course for it. The wood elf could hardly tell the dwarf to stop, they didn’t like being told what to do, pity on an elf who dares order a dwarf around. Then again, the wood elf couldn’t just kill the dwarf, albeit if the dwarf was not averted from his path, death was the only certainty.
With a silent sigh, the elf came to a conclusion; he would just draw the dwarf off track. While they had an uncanny sense of direction underground, above ground dwarfs wouldn’t be able to tell north from south. Before trying anything hasty, the elf would attempt a trade of words. If any hostility was presented the elf was sure he could handle it. Arrogance... the bane of all elves. Almost magically so, the elf literally appeared out of seemingly no where, assured that at a whim he could meld back into the thick brush.
The dwarf almost jumped at the sight… almost. “Hello good dwarf. Perhaps you would be so kind as too,” and the elf stopped for the forest seemed to explode.
Throughout the elf’s whole life, he had heard the dwarfs slandered by his woodland kin. They were supposed to be slow, dim witted creatures. No where near able to compete with an elf’s speed! But now the elf stared in utter shock at the smoking barrel of the dwarf’s gun. He hadn’t even seen the dwarf draw the small elegant pistol, let alone fire the damned thing. Mechanically the elf moved his hand to his chest; he didn’t feel any pain but dared not look, regardless his hands knew where to go. With a small hint of a smile the elf fell backwards, the last thing he felt being nothing, where his chest should have been.
The dwarf looked at the fist sized hole within the elf’s chest. He chuckled grimly to himself, he wasn’t lost after all! The elves were close… time to settle a grudge.
(sorry for grammer mistakes, made this quickly!)