Northern Continent of Salustutis: Outside of Askeladd's Hold
Thorfinn shivered in the frigid night air, his furs unable to fully keep the stinging cold at bay. His hand, wrapped around the shaft of his spear, was all but numb, and it was only thanks to his impressive willpower that he was able to keep his teeth from chattering up a storm. He would've done almost anything to have a brazier, or even just a torch, at his post, but the Kald had forbidden such luxuries. Something about how light cut down their field of vision or something.
By Kaviken, he hated getting stuck with the night watch! Besides himself and a few other unlucky grunts, everyone else was safely tucked away in their homesteads, warm beneath their blankets and (for the older ones) sleeping off a night's worth of mead and ale. And it wasn't like anything even happened at night anyways... Still, Askeladd was the damn Kald. Until someone managed to take the bastard down a few notches, his orders stood.
Stamping his feet, the irate Stryfe did his best to get his blood pumping again. Spirits take him, this wasn't even fair! He'd had sentry duty three times this week, while that smug Bjorn'd only done it once! He should be the one out here freezing his ass off!
[small]"Dam... ou, da... damn you..."[/small]
What the... Shaking his head, Thorfinn peered out into the darkness, his sharp eyes looking for any irregularities among the snow. He could've sworn he had heard something, something other than the wind, anyways, but it was hard to tell. Could very well just been his head imagining something. And he didn't think he could see anything out ther-
[small]"Damn you, damn you, damn you, damn you, damn you..."[/small]
No, wait, he was definitely hearing someone's voice! But who the hell would be dumb enough to be wandering around this late at night? Looking in the approximate direction the voice was coming from, the sentry squinted, trying to pierce the veil of night. There, clambering over that snowdrift...
"Damn you, damn you, damn you, damn you..."
For a minute, Thorfinn could only gape at the bizarre figure walking towards him. Though it had a similar build, there was no way the stranger was any type of Stryfe he'd ever seen; its body was far too small, and was mostly hairless. And that wasn't even the strangest part! Aside from a pair of ragged leggings, it looked like the creature was entirely naked, and... it didn't have any arms?
"The hell are you?" Thorfinn muttered, taking a few steps towards the strange figure. He'd heard rumors about another race from the far South, short ones that came carrying bizarre weapons. Could this maybe be one of them? But how had it gotten this far north? There were at least a dozen other prominent Holds between here and the ocean; there was no way it could have just sneaked by them.
"Damn you, damn you, damn you, damn you..."
Nevertheless, the creature was here, and it was stumbling closer and closer. Growling, the Stryfe braced himself, leveling his spear in the stranger's direction. "Stop right there, you bastard!" he roared out. "Or prepare to face the spear of Thorfinn Bonesplinter!" (No one actually called him Bonesplinter, but hey, a guy can dream)
If the bizarre figure heard the boast, it didn't seem to react in any noticeable way. Its stumbling pace continued unabated, and it didn't even bother to glance in Thorfinn's direction. All the while, it continued to mumble, though the Stryfe couldn't tell if it was talking to itself or to someone else. Still, one thing was clear: it was going to take a show of force to make this thing stop.
Grinning, Thorfinn cocked his arm back, his spear clutched tightly in his hand. The chilly air, once the only thing he could focus on, began to fade away as he focused on his target, a solid thirty yards away. He may not have been as strong or as fast as some of the other warriors, but if there was one thing Thorfinn took pride in, it was his accuracy. Arrows, axes, spears, so long as he could throw or shoot it, he was a master with the weapon.
With a grunt, the Stfye chucked his weapon, watching its arc with satisfaction. He had adjusted for the slight breeze perfectly, and it looked like he had put just enough strength into the throw.
Sure enough, the spear thudded into the stranger's chest with lethal accuracy. There was a burst of golden (weird color, Thorfinn though) blood as the metal tip tore through the figure's left breast and jutted out of its back. The solid half foot of wood driven through the creature was able to do what the earlier challenge could not, and the creature stumbled to a halt.
Even from this distance, the sentry's sharp eyes could make out the way the figure turned its head, staring blankly at the lance buried in its chest. Thorfinn's lips curled up in a slight grin as he imagined the emotions running through his victim's head. Shock, disbelief, pain, terror, everything that it should feel after being slain by a warrior of his caliber! Heh, he wouldn't be surprised if it just keeled over and died without so much as a peep.
He did not expect it to grab the spear in its mouth, rip it out of its chest, and bite said spear in half.
Thorfinn's already pale complexion whitened even further as the stranger continued to walk forward, apparently not even phased by the hole in its chest. A hole, the Stryfe noted with a growing sense of anxiety, that seemed to be healing at quite the prodigious rate.
...Maybe it would be a good idea to see if Askeladd was awake.
Thorfinn shivered in the frigid night air, his furs unable to fully keep the stinging cold at bay. His hand, wrapped around the shaft of his spear, was all but numb, and it was only thanks to his impressive willpower that he was able to keep his teeth from chattering up a storm. He would've done almost anything to have a brazier, or even just a torch, at his post, but the Kald had forbidden such luxuries. Something about how light cut down their field of vision or something.
By Kaviken, he hated getting stuck with the night watch! Besides himself and a few other unlucky grunts, everyone else was safely tucked away in their homesteads, warm beneath their blankets and (for the older ones) sleeping off a night's worth of mead and ale. And it wasn't like anything even happened at night anyways... Still, Askeladd was the damn Kald. Until someone managed to take the bastard down a few notches, his orders stood.
Stamping his feet, the irate Stryfe did his best to get his blood pumping again. Spirits take him, this wasn't even fair! He'd had sentry duty three times this week, while that smug Bjorn'd only done it once! He should be the one out here freezing his ass off!
[small]"Dam... ou, da... damn you..."[/small]
What the... Shaking his head, Thorfinn peered out into the darkness, his sharp eyes looking for any irregularities among the snow. He could've sworn he had heard something, something other than the wind, anyways, but it was hard to tell. Could very well just been his head imagining something. And he didn't think he could see anything out ther-
[small]"Damn you, damn you, damn you, damn you, damn you..."[/small]
No, wait, he was definitely hearing someone's voice! But who the hell would be dumb enough to be wandering around this late at night? Looking in the approximate direction the voice was coming from, the sentry squinted, trying to pierce the veil of night. There, clambering over that snowdrift...
"Damn you, damn you, damn you, damn you..."
For a minute, Thorfinn could only gape at the bizarre figure walking towards him. Though it had a similar build, there was no way the stranger was any type of Stryfe he'd ever seen; its body was far too small, and was mostly hairless. And that wasn't even the strangest part! Aside from a pair of ragged leggings, it looked like the creature was entirely naked, and... it didn't have any arms?
"The hell are you?" Thorfinn muttered, taking a few steps towards the strange figure. He'd heard rumors about another race from the far South, short ones that came carrying bizarre weapons. Could this maybe be one of them? But how had it gotten this far north? There were at least a dozen other prominent Holds between here and the ocean; there was no way it could have just sneaked by them.
"Damn you, damn you, damn you, damn you..."
Nevertheless, the creature was here, and it was stumbling closer and closer. Growling, the Stryfe braced himself, leveling his spear in the stranger's direction. "Stop right there, you bastard!" he roared out. "Or prepare to face the spear of Thorfinn Bonesplinter!" (No one actually called him Bonesplinter, but hey, a guy can dream)
If the bizarre figure heard the boast, it didn't seem to react in any noticeable way. Its stumbling pace continued unabated, and it didn't even bother to glance in Thorfinn's direction. All the while, it continued to mumble, though the Stryfe couldn't tell if it was talking to itself or to someone else. Still, one thing was clear: it was going to take a show of force to make this thing stop.
Grinning, Thorfinn cocked his arm back, his spear clutched tightly in his hand. The chilly air, once the only thing he could focus on, began to fade away as he focused on his target, a solid thirty yards away. He may not have been as strong or as fast as some of the other warriors, but if there was one thing Thorfinn took pride in, it was his accuracy. Arrows, axes, spears, so long as he could throw or shoot it, he was a master with the weapon.
With a grunt, the Stfye chucked his weapon, watching its arc with satisfaction. He had adjusted for the slight breeze perfectly, and it looked like he had put just enough strength into the throw.
Sure enough, the spear thudded into the stranger's chest with lethal accuracy. There was a burst of golden (weird color, Thorfinn though) blood as the metal tip tore through the figure's left breast and jutted out of its back. The solid half foot of wood driven through the creature was able to do what the earlier challenge could not, and the creature stumbled to a halt.
Even from this distance, the sentry's sharp eyes could make out the way the figure turned its head, staring blankly at the lance buried in its chest. Thorfinn's lips curled up in a slight grin as he imagined the emotions running through his victim's head. Shock, disbelief, pain, terror, everything that it should feel after being slain by a warrior of his caliber! Heh, he wouldn't be surprised if it just keeled over and died without so much as a peep.
He did not expect it to grab the spear in its mouth, rip it out of its chest, and bite said spear in half.
Thorfinn's already pale complexion whitened even further as the stranger continued to walk forward, apparently not even phased by the hole in its chest. A hole, the Stryfe noted with a growing sense of anxiety, that seemed to be healing at quite the prodigious rate.
...Maybe it would be a good idea to see if Askeladd was awake.