The Ambush 1/7
Title: The Ambush
Classification: h/c and a bit of a conspiracy
Rating: T
Warnings: Spoiler for "Day of the Dragon"
Disclaimer: I don't own nothing, just doodling around
Summary: A red dragon is attacked by two of the blue flight and a dwafen family tries to help a wounded elf. But nothing is what it seems and friendly hands might become a deathly danger while another dragon flies a race against time.
This is my first try on an english story (no nativ speaker here), so please excuse any spelling or punctuation errors. Point them out and I am happy to correct :)
A huge red form appeared on the cloudy evening sky. One second there was nothing but a few birds, the other a gigantic red dragon flickered into existence. The creature was in a very bad shape. One of its big wings so shredded it could barely fly. Deep wounds on its belly leaking blood and claw marks all over its limbs. It tried to land in a small forest right beside the old road but its right leg was so mangled that all the grace such an ancient being normally emanated was gone and the dragon more or less crashed into the woods. Mere seconds later all evidence of the dragons 'landing' was gone, hidden behind the layers of a mighty illusion spell. A doppelganger appeared at the exact spot the fallen creature had occupied moments before and started fleeing towards the distant mountains trying to fool the red dragon's pursuers who emerged only a few seconds later in the same fashion the other creature had. They looked very similar but less beaten - and blue. The simulacrum was remarkably fast - faster than the injured creature had been - but its hunters were nearly as quick. So the wild chase continued.
Anxiously the dragon held its breath. It dared not to move only concentrating on the spell that would hopefully shield it, block it off from the pursuers magically enhanced senses. It lay perfectly still for about a minute then its huge mass shimmered and shrunk into the slim form of a male elven being. He wore expensive robes in red and grey and gold, now tattered and stained with blood that made him look like a magician of Dalaran. Well, a quite beaten magician of Dalaran. His straight whitish hair long and silky, his face handsome and determined. Three old scars on his right cheek. He had to warn the others... he had to avert another war. Peace was tricky and slippery these days and this three blue ones were all that was needed for another outburst of slaughter no dragon would survive. Except... Except the flight behind this treacherous plan. With a hiss of pain he tried to stand up, but his right leg was too lacerated to walk properly. He knew he had lost an awful lot of blood, he was too weak to heal himself. He needed help - the sooner the better. The world blackened and blurred a bit around the edges and the elf swayed dangerously. He blinked a few times and tried to clear his mind. Damn! His illusion was gone, he had lost concentration too long. Now he should hurry even more. The elf attempted to limp out of the wood, hoped for travelers among the road who would be able to help. But with each step he took the searing pain washed away more of his strength. He staggered and stumbled a few meters before blackness engulfed him, devoured his pain and consciousness likewise.
As Jaja passed the small wood something seemed strange. At first she did not know what was sending shivers down her spine but it did not take her long to figure out. The birds were chirping like crazy. As if all birds tried to shout at her... but birds don't act like this, do they? She stopped her ox cart cautiously and peered into the woods. Everything seemed normal, she could not spot anything extraordinaire. But then a glimmer of red caught her eye. Jaja took the pitchfork from the cart and hesitantly made a few steps to the treeline. There could be bandits... cut-throats... slave-traders... There was an elf. She blinked a few times astonished before Jaja walked towards the body. The elf was male and bloody and rich - hopefully rich. At least he wore expensive looking cloths. Which were totally shredded - what a pity! She could have made a fortune selling them! But perhaps there still were treasures left in the body's pockets and bags - sure there had to be bags. No one travels without bags. Unfortunately this dead elf seemed to be an exception. No bags. And no jewelry. No treasures - but a heartbeat! Dammit! The corpse was still alive!
As Jaja arrived at home she was not sure if the elf had died on their way. She hollered for her dad while removing the dirty - now also bloody - blanket she had covered the body with. There was even more blood in the cart, but the elf was still breathing. "Blimey! Girl! Where did you find that gal?" her father's loud voice sounded from behind. "In the woods. 'm not sure what happened to him, but he looks kind'a rich."Dunol, her father peered over her shoulder to get a better look at the stranger. Odd. There was something about him... This elf did not feel like an elf. Jaja watched in astonishment as her father paled. He was an sturdy, battle hardened dwarf and dwarfs do not faint. But right now her dad looked like it. "What's wrong?" she asked worriedly but he simply shook is head and grabbed the elf's feet. "Let's just get him inside..." Jaja took the upper body and both dwarfs carried the unconscious man inside.
Jaja removed the ruined robes carefully - she did not want to hurt that poor guy even more. She knew the bite marks of wolves. She knew the claw marks of bear. She knew all the wounds normal wildlife could deal out there in the fens. But Jaja never had seen anything like that. Perhaps there was some new kind of rabid bear out there? A werewolf? "You need to clean those first, my girl." her father pointed out. She shot him an annoyed glance. Jaja was more than capable of taking care on her own. Her father met her eyes, nodded and said: "I'll go downstairs and check the brews. As soon as he awakes he will need something to strengthen him." Then Dunol left the room. Jaja was alone with the strange elf. She noticed two missing fingers on his right hand - this elf really has had a few battles. Jaja cleaned the wounds the way she has been taught by the priests and after she was finished send a prayer to the gods. Perhaps the elf would be healed by the grace of the gods.
Dunol rummaged through their herbs looking for something very specific. Very specific. Those herbage were no good for flavouring or even healing. They simply had no effect - not on dwarfs or humans or elfs. But there was a race very prone to the contents of this herb. It would not kill the stanger, no! He was too precious to kill. But it would keep him sedated and weak long enough for his master to arrive. Dunol started to grin. He had managed to capture one of their kind. Well, more or less capture.
Chapter 2
Classification: h/c and a bit of a conspiracy
Rating: T
Warnings: Spoiler for "Day of the Dragon"
Disclaimer: I don't own nothing, just doodling around
Summary: A red dragon is attacked by two of the blue flight and a dwafen family tries to help a wounded elf. But nothing is what it seems and friendly hands might become a deathly danger while another dragon flies a race against time.
This is my first try on an english story (no nativ speaker here), so please excuse any spelling or punctuation errors. Point them out and I am happy to correct :)
A huge red form appeared on the cloudy evening sky. One second there was nothing but a few birds, the other a gigantic red dragon flickered into existence. The creature was in a very bad shape. One of its big wings so shredded it could barely fly. Deep wounds on its belly leaking blood and claw marks all over its limbs. It tried to land in a small forest right beside the old road but its right leg was so mangled that all the grace such an ancient being normally emanated was gone and the dragon more or less crashed into the woods. Mere seconds later all evidence of the dragons 'landing' was gone, hidden behind the layers of a mighty illusion spell. A doppelganger appeared at the exact spot the fallen creature had occupied moments before and started fleeing towards the distant mountains trying to fool the red dragon's pursuers who emerged only a few seconds later in the same fashion the other creature had. They looked very similar but less beaten - and blue. The simulacrum was remarkably fast - faster than the injured creature had been - but its hunters were nearly as quick. So the wild chase continued.
Anxiously the dragon held its breath. It dared not to move only concentrating on the spell that would hopefully shield it, block it off from the pursuers magically enhanced senses. It lay perfectly still for about a minute then its huge mass shimmered and shrunk into the slim form of a male elven being. He wore expensive robes in red and grey and gold, now tattered and stained with blood that made him look like a magician of Dalaran. Well, a quite beaten magician of Dalaran. His straight whitish hair long and silky, his face handsome and determined. Three old scars on his right cheek. He had to warn the others... he had to avert another war. Peace was tricky and slippery these days and this three blue ones were all that was needed for another outburst of slaughter no dragon would survive. Except... Except the flight behind this treacherous plan. With a hiss of pain he tried to stand up, but his right leg was too lacerated to walk properly. He knew he had lost an awful lot of blood, he was too weak to heal himself. He needed help - the sooner the better. The world blackened and blurred a bit around the edges and the elf swayed dangerously. He blinked a few times and tried to clear his mind. Damn! His illusion was gone, he had lost concentration too long. Now he should hurry even more. The elf attempted to limp out of the wood, hoped for travelers among the road who would be able to help. But with each step he took the searing pain washed away more of his strength. He staggered and stumbled a few meters before blackness engulfed him, devoured his pain and consciousness likewise.
As Jaja passed the small wood something seemed strange. At first she did not know what was sending shivers down her spine but it did not take her long to figure out. The birds were chirping like crazy. As if all birds tried to shout at her... but birds don't act like this, do they? She stopped her ox cart cautiously and peered into the woods. Everything seemed normal, she could not spot anything extraordinaire. But then a glimmer of red caught her eye. Jaja took the pitchfork from the cart and hesitantly made a few steps to the treeline. There could be bandits... cut-throats... slave-traders... There was an elf. She blinked a few times astonished before Jaja walked towards the body. The elf was male and bloody and rich - hopefully rich. At least he wore expensive looking cloths. Which were totally shredded - what a pity! She could have made a fortune selling them! But perhaps there still were treasures left in the body's pockets and bags - sure there had to be bags. No one travels without bags. Unfortunately this dead elf seemed to be an exception. No bags. And no jewelry. No treasures - but a heartbeat! Dammit! The corpse was still alive!
As Jaja arrived at home she was not sure if the elf had died on their way. She hollered for her dad while removing the dirty - now also bloody - blanket she had covered the body with. There was even more blood in the cart, but the elf was still breathing. "Blimey! Girl! Where did you find that gal?" her father's loud voice sounded from behind. "In the woods. 'm not sure what happened to him, but he looks kind'a rich."Dunol, her father peered over her shoulder to get a better look at the stranger. Odd. There was something about him... This elf did not feel like an elf. Jaja watched in astonishment as her father paled. He was an sturdy, battle hardened dwarf and dwarfs do not faint. But right now her dad looked like it. "What's wrong?" she asked worriedly but he simply shook is head and grabbed the elf's feet. "Let's just get him inside..." Jaja took the upper body and both dwarfs carried the unconscious man inside.
Jaja removed the ruined robes carefully - she did not want to hurt that poor guy even more. She knew the bite marks of wolves. She knew the claw marks of bear. She knew all the wounds normal wildlife could deal out there in the fens. But Jaja never had seen anything like that. Perhaps there was some new kind of rabid bear out there? A werewolf? "You need to clean those first, my girl." her father pointed out. She shot him an annoyed glance. Jaja was more than capable of taking care on her own. Her father met her eyes, nodded and said: "I'll go downstairs and check the brews. As soon as he awakes he will need something to strengthen him." Then Dunol left the room. Jaja was alone with the strange elf. She noticed two missing fingers on his right hand - this elf really has had a few battles. Jaja cleaned the wounds the way she has been taught by the priests and after she was finished send a prayer to the gods. Perhaps the elf would be healed by the grace of the gods.
Dunol rummaged through their herbs looking for something very specific. Very specific. Those herbage were no good for flavouring or even healing. They simply had no effect - not on dwarfs or humans or elfs. But there was a race very prone to the contents of this herb. It would not kill the stanger, no! He was too precious to kill. But it would keep him sedated and weak long enough for his master to arrive. Dunol started to grin. He had managed to capture one of their kind. Well, more or less capture.
Chapter 2