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Authors: J. R. Karlsson
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Although
he still refused to believe that the others would let Cusband starve,
he wasn't willing to take the chance.
Even
with his cold-weather furs, he still shivered as he entered the
woods. The icy weather seemed to bite at him remorselessly in an
attempt to devour all his body heat.
Not
far from the settlement the encampment full of Goblins and Orcs had
grown in size.
By
now, it seemed as much a fixture on the landscape as the settlement
itself and its sprawling size seemed to represent an increasing
amount of control that the Orcs held over El-Vador's people.
Sentries
stood guard outside the palisade as always, their previously sour
gazes had turned into ones of neutral indifference now. El-Vador
pretended not to notice this change, he didn't like the idea of being
seen as irrelevant. He needed to act, and soon.
His
father hadn't been lying when he spoke of the scarcity of game in the
forests, the influx in population combined with El-Vador's constant
foraying and the winter climate had reduced the already meagre
population significantly. He would be hard-pressed to find enough
food for them to survive on but that wouldn't stop him from trying.
A
keening howl from nearby froze El-Vador. He had heard wolves howl
several times that day, but not so near as to be considered a threat.
He
was too deep into the woods to find his way back now, the pack would
hunt him down long before he made it to the settlement or even the
nearest Orcs.
Taking
a deep breath he refused to panic, running would do him no good at
all. Wolves could outrun even the fleetest of foot when driven by
prey that was so much meat.
He
moved with grim purpose instead, searching the woods for a suitable
place to hold out against the inevitable pack. That was when he
remembered that he had coated one of the arrows with the red liquid
from the phial, what had he to lose from testing it now?
Settling
himself against a trunk he picked out the arrow and readied it,
waiting patiently for his hunters to emerge.
Eventually
he caught sight of the first one as it bounded toward him, snow
parting from the eagerness of its gait. A mixture of desire, hunger
and excitement could be seen in its eyes as it drew closer, it knew
that its prey wouldn't leave its sight and the long chase was at an
end.
The
pack leader leaped. El-Vador let fly. The coated arrow sped forth
with deadly intent, unerringly on target and hissing through the
winter air. A conflagration lit up the woods as the arrow found its
home in the wolf's hide, the beast seemed to twist in the air in
agony as it was wreathed in crimson flames. El-Vador watched
dumbfounded as the fire raced across the pelt of the wolf and grew
brighter with each passing moment, going from red to yellow and now
to an unbearably bright white that was almost impossible to see in
the snow. Then the detonation hit, a vast booming noise that burst
through El-Vador's ears and left them ringing. He stared down at his
mangled hands and stifled a scream, then laughed instead as the
yelping noises retreated from what was left of his hearing. The blood
that stained him was not his own, the wolf had been torn apart by the
arrow and its remnants were splattered over him like a gruesome
trophy.
The
hunted turned hunter and loped after the retreating pack of wolves,
he may not have another coated arrow but he could be perfectly deadly
with those that remained in his quiver. He and his father would have
plenty of meat tonight.
'What
in the blue hells happened to you out there?' his father demanded
when El-Vador finally returned, his face a strange mixture of anger
and concern.
El-Vador
recalled the explosion. Yes, he still looked as if he had been mauled
by some great beast. 'Worry not father, the blood is not my own. I
have been busy testing our new weapon.' he said smugly, setting down
the few kills he had poached from the hunting of the remaining
wolves.
Cusband
looked over the kills with obvious hunger, this had been an
unexpected
he still refused to believe that the others would let Cusband starve,
he wasn't willing to take the chance.
Even
with his cold-weather furs, he still shivered as he entered the
woods. The icy weather seemed to bite at him remorselessly in an
attempt to devour all his body heat.
Not
far from the settlement the encampment full of Goblins and Orcs had
grown in size.
By
now, it seemed as much a fixture on the landscape as the settlement
itself and its sprawling size seemed to represent an increasing
amount of control that the Orcs held over El-Vador's people.
Sentries
stood guard outside the palisade as always, their previously sour
gazes had turned into ones of neutral indifference now. El-Vador
pretended not to notice this change, he didn't like the idea of being
seen as irrelevant. He needed to act, and soon.
His
father hadn't been lying when he spoke of the scarcity of game in the
forests, the influx in population combined with El-Vador's constant
foraying and the winter climate had reduced the already meagre
population significantly. He would be hard-pressed to find enough
food for them to survive on but that wouldn't stop him from trying.
A
keening howl from nearby froze El-Vador. He had heard wolves howl
several times that day, but not so near as to be considered a threat.
He
was too deep into the woods to find his way back now, the pack would
hunt him down long before he made it to the settlement or even the
nearest Orcs.
Taking
a deep breath he refused to panic, running would do him no good at
all. Wolves could outrun even the fleetest of foot when driven by
prey that was so much meat.
He
moved with grim purpose instead, searching the woods for a suitable
place to hold out against the inevitable pack. That was when he
remembered that he had coated one of the arrows with the red liquid
from the phial, what had he to lose from testing it now?
Settling
himself against a trunk he picked out the arrow and readied it,
waiting patiently for his hunters to emerge.
Eventually
he caught sight of the first one as it bounded toward him, snow
parting from the eagerness of its gait. A mixture of desire, hunger
and excitement could be seen in its eyes as it drew closer, it knew
that its prey wouldn't leave its sight and the long chase was at an
end.
The
pack leader leaped. El-Vador let fly. The coated arrow sped forth
with deadly intent, unerringly on target and hissing through the
winter air. A conflagration lit up the woods as the arrow found its
home in the wolf's hide, the beast seemed to twist in the air in
agony as it was wreathed in crimson flames. El-Vador watched
dumbfounded as the fire raced across the pelt of the wolf and grew
brighter with each passing moment, going from red to yellow and now
to an unbearably bright white that was almost impossible to see in
the snow. Then the detonation hit, a vast booming noise that burst
through El-Vador's ears and left them ringing. He stared down at his
mangled hands and stifled a scream, then laughed instead as the
yelping noises retreated from what was left of his hearing. The blood
that stained him was not his own, the wolf had been torn apart by the
arrow and its remnants were splattered over him like a gruesome
trophy.
The
hunted turned hunter and loped after the retreating pack of wolves,
he may not have another coated arrow but he could be perfectly deadly
with those that remained in his quiver. He and his father would have
plenty of meat tonight.
'What
in the blue hells happened to you out there?' his father demanded
when El-Vador finally returned, his face a strange mixture of anger
and concern.
El-Vador
recalled the explosion. Yes, he still looked as if he had been mauled
by some great beast. 'Worry not father, the blood is not my own. I
have been busy testing our new weapon.' he said smugly, setting down
the few kills he had poached from the hunting of the remaining
wolves.
Cusband
looked over the kills with obvious hunger, this had been an
unexpected
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