DgtlCalm
03-07-2003, 01:32 AM
A wise man once said when you are on the run, civil life is left behind. The things that bring your comfort should be forgotten, and instead you become part of nature part of your environment. How ever…some enjoy the good life to much let it go, and fleeing is nothing more than a journey that should be savored like a fine Elvish wine. How ever the hunter usually doesn’t get the option to relax and while you sleep in a bed that makes you feel weightless, eat a meal that tingles every bud your tongue and feel a fire that warms your body as well as your soul the hunter…his meal is your capture, his fire is your capture…his dreams are filled….with your…capture
Each word that left his lips held the distinct ring of a northern accent. He of course did not realize the farther south you go into more civilized society the more you stand out as a foreigner, and nothing can catch more attention that of a stranger wandering in the merchant side of town. “Come on aye! Buy a necklace for your lovely wife, one gold coin! Is all I ask?” “Get out my way!” which sounded more like “Get ut myway.” The broad shouldered human pushed his way through the brightly clothed and sun tanned people of the port city Varda. Clothed in furs of animals few could imagine, a curved broad sword on his back and a scar running down his left cheek he continued to yell and push making sure he kept an eye behind him. His name Rgad Dersal mercenary that went a little too far. The bounty on his head was enough gold to keep a person happy for months, or to keep a Half-Troll who didn’t want much in life but to spend his days in peace and quiet happy for a life time. “GET UT MYWAY! AYE! AYE! AYE! AYE!? WHAT U TRIYIN TOSAY!? SPEAK PROPER!”
Mean while
It always had to rain, the constant down poor that not only wet clothes but dampened spirits. Each drop a tiny prick that slowly sent a person one step closer to mental break, it had been three days of constant rain. Three days of never ending grey, to a bad tempered half-troll it made him think about his fleeing prey. Instead of facing him like a true warrior, the vile human ran…and not someplace simple oh no, two weeks journey south! Legions had to bellow a laugh that seemed to shake the very earth he walked, his spear gripped tightly in hand his dark green eyes precise and keen. …when I find you…I will drag your murdering twitching body over the mountains one rock for each drop of rain” His chainmail soaked, his undershirt soaked, his temper enough to boil a ocean.
(I’ll add more later just could not think of anything interesting for my first post)
Each word that left his lips held the distinct ring of a northern accent. He of course did not realize the farther south you go into more civilized society the more you stand out as a foreigner, and nothing can catch more attention that of a stranger wandering in the merchant side of town. “Come on aye! Buy a necklace for your lovely wife, one gold coin! Is all I ask?” “Get out my way!” which sounded more like “Get ut myway.” The broad shouldered human pushed his way through the brightly clothed and sun tanned people of the port city Varda. Clothed in furs of animals few could imagine, a curved broad sword on his back and a scar running down his left cheek he continued to yell and push making sure he kept an eye behind him. His name Rgad Dersal mercenary that went a little too far. The bounty on his head was enough gold to keep a person happy for months, or to keep a Half-Troll who didn’t want much in life but to spend his days in peace and quiet happy for a life time. “GET UT MYWAY! AYE! AYE! AYE! AYE!? WHAT U TRIYIN TOSAY!? SPEAK PROPER!”
Mean while
It always had to rain, the constant down poor that not only wet clothes but dampened spirits. Each drop a tiny prick that slowly sent a person one step closer to mental break, it had been three days of constant rain. Three days of never ending grey, to a bad tempered half-troll it made him think about his fleeing prey. Instead of facing him like a true warrior, the vile human ran…and not someplace simple oh no, two weeks journey south! Legions had to bellow a laugh that seemed to shake the very earth he walked, his spear gripped tightly in hand his dark green eyes precise and keen. …when I find you…I will drag your murdering twitching body over the mountains one rock for each drop of rain” His chainmail soaked, his undershirt soaked, his temper enough to boil a ocean.
(I’ll add more later just could not think of anything interesting for my first post)