EvolutionKB
First Post
Here is my background. Sorry about the length.
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Thomas blinked against the smoke from the fire and held in a cough. He didn’t want to remind them that he was here. He didn’t want them to remember that he was still alive. The orcs were drunk and carousing around their campfire. He couldn’t speak orcish, but by their tone, he imagined they were laughing about the screams of his companions as they tortured them. Thomas was the last one left.
The orcs came upon them in the night. Their better vision gave them the advantage against the four of them. Cullen was the first to fall, hacked apart by their blades. He was the lucky one. They took their time with the rest of us. Knocked us out, tied us up.
Oliver was the first to be tortured, his arcane powers, having knocked out a couple of their warriors. The wizard didn’t last long, Thomas could still hear his screams as they broke his limbs one by one and then thrust them into the fire to prolong his pain. His head stares at him from the bushes.
Viznier, cleric of Pelor was taken next. Faith was his strength, but in the end the priest broke down as well, begging them to stop. Thomas would not suffer the same fate though. He didn’t know what they were waiting for, but he intended not to be around to find out.
Thomas’ face was bruised and bloody, but he could still see. When the orcs took their weapons, they missed the thin dagger he kept tucked in his boot. Slowly, his back faced away from them, he was able to feign unconsciousness, get the dagger free. He cut the bonds around his ankles and he was almost through the ones binding their wrists. All he had to do was wait for the right moment.
Then it happened. The drunken carousing soon turned to anger. A pair of the brutes were yelling, and soon enough a fistfight started. Thomas leapt to his feet and ran off into the dark forest. Nearly as soon as he stood, the orcs took chase. He ducked and weaved between the trees hoping to lose them. He nearly tripped over exposed roots a few times. Arms pumping, he could hear them, they were catching up. As least he could go down fighting. Then it hit him, he was tackled from behind. Hot breath was on his neck. But things were different. He didn’t smell their stench, the cheap ale on their breath, the smell of unwashed bodies. Then he realized he was being carried by the neck, not roughly, but gentle, and he was off the ground, in a tree. He moves his eyes, saw a large black paw, as big as his head. A panther’s paw. The sounds of the orcs had disappeared.
He was laying so still and quiet, he didn’t even realize the creature had let him go. He began to scramble away from the creature, but then it spoke. Spoke. It’s voice was deep, soft, and gravelly. “Not so fast, you are forty feet up. It’d be a shame to have you fall and break your neck after I saved you from those orcs”
Thomas slowly turned over, being careful to keep his balance. The panther almost as big as a horse, lay on a branch nearby. He didn’t even hear it move. It was flicking it dark tail in the air like a barn cat. Golden vertically slit eyes regarded him amusingly. That is what Thomas thought anyway.
“Do not question my motives,” the creature said. It was as though the panther could read his mind, for that is what Thomas was thinking. If it saved him from the orcs, why not come sooner, and save his companions too. “My name is Midnight, I am the Feylord around here. Yes, you are currently in the Feywild,” Midnight said, again reading his thoughts. “It was necessary to keep you from the orcs, and I dislike the mortal realm.”
Finally finding his voice, Thomas spoke to the creature. “Why did you save me?” The words came out hoarse, little more than a whisper. The orcs never gave him water.
It was loud enough for Midnight to hear. “Because I have needs for mortals like you. Like I said, I dislike the mortal realm. Mortals are easy to brings here, but not all like what I have to offer. Or what I demand.”
“Here is the deal,” the Feylord purred. “I impart some of my power to you and let you leave my territory unharmed. In exchange when you return to your realm, you will further my own motives there. Refuse my offer, and I disappear, leaving you to find your own way out. Believe me when I tell you that some of my neighbors would treat you worse than the orcs would.”
Thomas swallowed, but still his voice came out in a little more than a croak. “How do I know what you need me to do.”
“You’ll know when the time arises. Now choose.” Midnight walked the branches of the tree, stalking closer.
“Deal.”
The panther leapt, knocking Thomas from his perch, and he fell out of the tree. Thomas landed, his ego more bruised than anything else. He’d seemed to only fall a few feet. He sat for a moment, collecting his bearings, and listening for any sign of the orcs. Nothing coming, he crept through the trees, soon coming to a clearing. Using the stars as a guide, he was able to find a road. A few hours later, he came upon a town.
His talents landed him a job telling stories at a tavern. That paid for his room, and the dishes he did after his performances was enough to cover the cost of food from the kitchen. Months went by, and the tavern owner was so happy with the increased business, that he gave Thomas a permanent room. The money he got from his performances was eventually enough to buy a new weapon, and a suit of armor. For some reason, Thomas thought whatever form his debt to Midnight came in, it wouldn’t be solved with stories.[/sblock]
[sblock]
Thomas blinked against the smoke from the fire and held in a cough. He didn’t want to remind them that he was here. He didn’t want them to remember that he was still alive. The orcs were drunk and carousing around their campfire. He couldn’t speak orcish, but by their tone, he imagined they were laughing about the screams of his companions as they tortured them. Thomas was the last one left.
The orcs came upon them in the night. Their better vision gave them the advantage against the four of them. Cullen was the first to fall, hacked apart by their blades. He was the lucky one. They took their time with the rest of us. Knocked us out, tied us up.
Oliver was the first to be tortured, his arcane powers, having knocked out a couple of their warriors. The wizard didn’t last long, Thomas could still hear his screams as they broke his limbs one by one and then thrust them into the fire to prolong his pain. His head stares at him from the bushes.
Viznier, cleric of Pelor was taken next. Faith was his strength, but in the end the priest broke down as well, begging them to stop. Thomas would not suffer the same fate though. He didn’t know what they were waiting for, but he intended not to be around to find out.
Thomas’ face was bruised and bloody, but he could still see. When the orcs took their weapons, they missed the thin dagger he kept tucked in his boot. Slowly, his back faced away from them, he was able to feign unconsciousness, get the dagger free. He cut the bonds around his ankles and he was almost through the ones binding their wrists. All he had to do was wait for the right moment.
Then it happened. The drunken carousing soon turned to anger. A pair of the brutes were yelling, and soon enough a fistfight started. Thomas leapt to his feet and ran off into the dark forest. Nearly as soon as he stood, the orcs took chase. He ducked and weaved between the trees hoping to lose them. He nearly tripped over exposed roots a few times. Arms pumping, he could hear them, they were catching up. As least he could go down fighting. Then it hit him, he was tackled from behind. Hot breath was on his neck. But things were different. He didn’t smell their stench, the cheap ale on their breath, the smell of unwashed bodies. Then he realized he was being carried by the neck, not roughly, but gentle, and he was off the ground, in a tree. He moves his eyes, saw a large black paw, as big as his head. A panther’s paw. The sounds of the orcs had disappeared.
He was laying so still and quiet, he didn’t even realize the creature had let him go. He began to scramble away from the creature, but then it spoke. Spoke. It’s voice was deep, soft, and gravelly. “Not so fast, you are forty feet up. It’d be a shame to have you fall and break your neck after I saved you from those orcs”
Thomas slowly turned over, being careful to keep his balance. The panther almost as big as a horse, lay on a branch nearby. He didn’t even hear it move. It was flicking it dark tail in the air like a barn cat. Golden vertically slit eyes regarded him amusingly. That is what Thomas thought anyway.
“Do not question my motives,” the creature said. It was as though the panther could read his mind, for that is what Thomas was thinking. If it saved him from the orcs, why not come sooner, and save his companions too. “My name is Midnight, I am the Feylord around here. Yes, you are currently in the Feywild,” Midnight said, again reading his thoughts. “It was necessary to keep you from the orcs, and I dislike the mortal realm.”
Finally finding his voice, Thomas spoke to the creature. “Why did you save me?” The words came out hoarse, little more than a whisper. The orcs never gave him water.
It was loud enough for Midnight to hear. “Because I have needs for mortals like you. Like I said, I dislike the mortal realm. Mortals are easy to brings here, but not all like what I have to offer. Or what I demand.”
“Here is the deal,” the Feylord purred. “I impart some of my power to you and let you leave my territory unharmed. In exchange when you return to your realm, you will further my own motives there. Refuse my offer, and I disappear, leaving you to find your own way out. Believe me when I tell you that some of my neighbors would treat you worse than the orcs would.”
Thomas swallowed, but still his voice came out in a little more than a croak. “How do I know what you need me to do.”
“You’ll know when the time arises. Now choose.” Midnight walked the branches of the tree, stalking closer.
“Deal.”
The panther leapt, knocking Thomas from his perch, and he fell out of the tree. Thomas landed, his ego more bruised than anything else. He’d seemed to only fall a few feet. He sat for a moment, collecting his bearings, and listening for any sign of the orcs. Nothing coming, he crept through the trees, soon coming to a clearing. Using the stars as a guide, he was able to find a road. A few hours later, he came upon a town.
His talents landed him a job telling stories at a tavern. That paid for his room, and the dishes he did after his performances was enough to cover the cost of food from the kitchen. Months went by, and the tavern owner was so happy with the increased business, that he gave Thomas a permanent room. The money he got from his performances was eventually enough to buy a new weapon, and a suit of armor. For some reason, Thomas thought whatever form his debt to Midnight came in, it wouldn’t be solved with stories.[/sblock]
