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TITLE (EDIT)
Trail Of Hope |
DESCRIPTION
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[1,216 words] |
AUTHOR
Matthew Hooper |
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
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[April 2004] |
Trail Of Hope
Matthew Hooper
For hundreds of year the two dominate species of the land fought each other in a never-ending war, the orcs in their brute strength and the human’s speed made the war un-winnable. But an unknown faction is moving in to crush and conquer all. All but unknown to the to warring factions only a secretive order stands between them and destruction.
We had been following raiding groups of orcs though the dense forest of the Southland’s of Klancar. As we moved though the dense woods smoke drifted in front of us, we followed it to a clearing. We broke cover from he tree line the smouldering fires still blazing, dead and dying people laying round the village. The orcs had got here first, we where too late and because of us the village was gone. The tracker followed some footprints in to the square; he face looked shocked as the captain followed him he nearly vomited. The reaming villagers had been hung up, their gut splayed open the entrails covered in flies. Seeing that the captain gave the order to burn the bodies, the tracker seemed to clime up the timber poles like a monkey his hooded cloak flapping in the wind, the knife in his mouth. After what seemed like days of burying bodies of the people I felt like I let down we made camp, the cold breeze ran though the ex-village. The moon was bright, my group was told to find a water supply. I lit my torch and went in to the tree line. The yellow flicker of the touch made the woodland different, the shadows moved wildly. I pulled my falcon blade from its scabbard, the blade was dull the rounded edge made it look more like a meat cleaver. I looked back alone my line.
The men who had been with me had gone their torches still alight on the ground. I dropped my touch; the moonlight broke though the tree canopy; a shadow caught my eye. I put my falcon blade back and pulled my war bow from my back. “Here orcy, orcy” I whispered, taking aim. The shadow was too big to be a man. Letting go of the bow string the arrow flow to the target, it whistled as it run though the under growth, followed by a dull thud. The creature let out an unearthly roar of pain, hearing this I started to run back to the safety camp. Running though the under growth I was breathing heavily, my heart was pounding, trying to think what the creature was it was to small to be a troll and an orc would be slain by the shot. Running over the torches left behind, as I ran over a cavern I slipped, falling down the rocks sides of it I nearly lost continuous. Looking up I put my hands in the moonlight a black liquid was over my hands and clothes I looked round me. Ripped open orcs were scattered over the cavern floor most probably the ones who had attacked the village. I laughed for a moment before waking up to the fact that they had all been killed, brutally and the pattern of bodies showed it was one thing that did it. I reached for my war bow it wasn’t anywhere to be found. I pulled out my falcon blade again turning round sharply the shadow was in the only way out, I lunged at it my blade cutting though its fore arm as I dodged the other arm that came down towards me. The leather shoulder pad was torn from my body, I floe back smacking my head against the wall behind me. The creature stepped in to the light it was a huge dog like person it yellow eyes stared at me and the rotten teeth let out dual, the arrow still in its chest. The arrow didn’t seem to bother it, the fur round to was blood soaked, its claws where at lest 6 inches long. It lunged at me, my blade thrown to one side, the huge teeth digging in to my arm, the warm sensation of the blood running over my skin. I screamed in pain as I griped the creature’s throat this was personal now, my gantlet piecing though the creature neck it’s blood streaming down my arm.
The light shone on my face I stared my eyes open, the last night seemed a vivid dream and that what I though it was before seeing the orcs bodies. I looked round in shock my falcon blade still on the floor but the beast that attacked me was nowhere to be seen, only a trail of blood. I tore a strip of cloth off my now rugged cloak I bandaged up my wounded arm knowing I’ll soon have to get the camp medic to patch me up when and if I get back. I struggled up the cavern side up back in to the wooded area. The trees looked a safe site compared to the place I just was in, the torches lay where they where dropped. I followed them back though the woods. As I heard shouting I looked in their direction, my patrol was in the distance I staggered towards them the blood loss making it hard to concentrate. I fell over. Soothing had caught my leg I turn round to face my attacker, I had tripped over my war bow, I gasped in relief. My heart started to slow down, as I called out for help. The captain and two other men stood over me he asked me where the other men were, I replied softly “their gone sir, I suggest we get out of here” the captain look confused at me, “we still have orcs to hunt!” his voice bitter
“Screw the orcs their dead, so are my men killed by the same thing”
“Trolls?” on of the solders implied
“No it was to small, it was like a wolf and it doesn’t matter we got to get out of here!”
The captain disagreed with me and we staid the night in the remands village. One second I was there the next I was in a grand hall, but it seemed wired as in not real, looking round I saw people sitting round a long table. All the colours seemed to change slightly each second. In a great voice the man at the head of the table yelled “sons of the wolf, the northern tribes of the counts are massing we must warn the human and orcs to their danger” the other people round the table seem to be confirming with each other. I spoke out “what are the sons of the wolf? And what is the danger.” the hall went silent, the man at the head of the table turn at me changing in to the creature that had attacked me the night before or near enough like it, ”we are the sons of the wolf or as you call us werewolves, this is a dream scope, a centre made so all of us can contact to each other” every one dropped silent “I am the grand master of the tribes and guardian of the un-dead.” The room looked darker. “You must be turning now? Which one of us bit you?”
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READER'S REVIEWS (5)
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"Well Grammar Check, and how old are you would be first. If your under 14 then this is great. If not, maybe 6 or so more drafts would do ya. If you create your own world you need to explain it. How do your orcs differ from other writer's orcs? You need to fix that first paragraph, that is what sells a reader to finish the paper, it opens a contract that the story should stick to. Fix up that first paragraph, it seemed to be very week. (hundreds of yearS. Are not is TENSE, and so on.) Then you break the story in the second paragraph, who is WE? build build build. This story will make it but this seemed to be a skeleton of what it should be. Good luck." -- Jonathan, fort worth, tx.
"Granted, ur dislexic but it is a bit weak. That other guys tellin the truth it a bit weak 4 a skeleton its got no support, if u weren't there tellin me who was who i wuldn't no. Soz mate" -- Panda, camberley, UK.
"yo, Jonothan, u d*ck, he's dislexic, cut him some fuck*ng slack okay" -- Dead Man.
"U aint gonna want me and dead man against ya, it aint pretty. So please wont u shut the f**k up!!" -- Marsander.
"ok u guy who mock my work go f... ur self i dislexic and panda go scre. a pig" -- Matt.
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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2004 Matthew Hooper |
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
April 2004 |
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
2313
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