Just some creative writing I had to get out of my system. Take it as you will.

Mar 02, 2006 01:47

Panic. It was his worst enemy right now, worse than the one pursuing him. He tried frantically to match the hammering pace of his heart and his breath to the beat of his frenzied footfalls. Trees whipped by as he ran through the dense forest. He had to be wary of his surroundings for obstacles were ever a threat with low branches and high roots waiting for a careless passerby. He glanced behind him quickly and thought he could see a slight form slipping with ease through the forest behind him. He whipped his head back to the direction of his flight a long tendril of drool trailing through the protruding tusks of his porcine face. He was forced to leap a knot of thick roots and when he landed he finally found a rhythm he could keep a steady speed at.

The orc made a quick mental check of his resources. He was weaponless, his sword knocked from his hand by a red arrow with black and white fletching. He would never forget the look of that arrow, for it would have taken him in the heart if he had not raised his weapon in time. He was sure that it was the elf the other orcs had been talking about around the fire of late. They would speak of him no more, all taken down in a matter of moments by the deadly shot of woodland protector. He had his chain shirt, but that wouldn't do much against the slender arrows the elf used. This wasn't his forest, either, and he knew that he couldn't hide from the elf for long. No, he would have to kill it.

He ducked behind a large elm. At its base he found a stout branch. It wasn't fancy but it could bring an elf down, even an elf as skilled as his pursuer. He listened for the sound of the elf's approach and could hear the crunch of fallen leaves every so often. How the elf managed to keep silent at such a speed over a forest floor littered with crunchy leaves was a mystery to the orc. When he heard a footfall right beside the trunk from where the orc had come around he swung back in that direction with all his might behind the club. A resounding crack sounded through the forest as the branch smacked against the tree base and shattered into a million wooden shards. The orc was left holding a jagged stub in hands that tingled with the pain of the tremor that went up through the weapon.

Remembering that the blow was meant for someone he looked around in alarm. The elf was nowhere to be found. The orc turned to continue his retreat and found himself staring down the shaft of a red arrow. On the other end was a slim elf dressed in a cloak of leaves with a similar hood pulled over his head. His eyes held a rage unlike any the barbaric orc had ever seen, as if it took all of his willpower not to loose the arrow into the defenseless orc's face.

The orc through himself to the side, but received a cut on the cheek for his effort. He came out in a clumsy roll to see the elf coming around the tree and already nocking another arrow. The orc knew that his time was up if he didn't find a way to escape. He picked up a stone and hurled it at the elf causing him to duck back behind the tree. By the time he came back around, the orc was in full flight down the slope on his way to the base camp. There his fellows would come to his side and they would take down the wretched faerie together. They would offer him to great Gruumsh and then his dead kinsmen would be avenged.

The orc zig-zagged through the trees and heard more than one arrow slice through the air behind him as he raced down the hill. He was back in familiar territory. There were traps here, he remembered, and if they hadn't changed the layout he could use them against the elven ranger. He leapt over a concealed pit and glanced back, the elf had noticed the pit and skirted it while pulling back his bowstring and letting another arrow fly. The orc managed to swing around a slender young tree to avoid the shot but ended up losing his footing and began to tumble out of control down the hill.

He was assaulted by several trees as he rolled, knocking much of the sense out of him. He lost all sense of direction and was vaguely aware of several deep gashes on his body. Try as he might, he couldn't scramble into a controlled run and found that he couldn't see out of one eye as blood began to flow over it. He finally came to a jarring stop with his back bent around the trunk of a healthy oak. The orc tried to push himself up but found that his left arm was broken and would not support him. He rolled over to his front and got himself into a kneeling position with his right hand, which sported a nasty gash across the palm. Blood flowed freely from many wounds about his body and he was already growning weak because of it.

Through the red haze he could see the cursed elf approaching. He thought to scream out for assistance, but as if reading his mind, the elf put an arrow across the orc's throat, slicing it as neatly as any blade. Too weak to resist, the orc was forced around to face down the hill. The elf had an arm around his neck keeping him still, his arms were useless, and he had not the strength to thrash around and catch the attention of the two sentries he could barely see through his fading vision. It had been hopeless from the beginning, he knew. He had seen the hate in the ranger's eyes. There was no escape from a rage like that. Still, so close.
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