Rise of the Wolfikng

Rise of the Wolfking

The mist hung low and heavy in the forest of Oakshire. The tall oak trees loomed over the figure dashing through the mist, like the blood thirst hounds of Deadlord were on his heels. His dark cloak billowed behind him, the silver of his sword hilt, glinting in the moon’s light. His long calm face, showed none of the exhaustion of his limbs.

I must get back.

I must warn them. He thought

This thought was keeping him going. Keeping him from keeling over and succumbing to the exhaustion which would spell the fate of many. The deep wound in this side, throbbed with the beating of his heart, slowly pumping the blood out of him. He ran on dodging roots and the low hanging limbs of the oaks, which could break his leg or knock him unconscious. The clearing up ahead would give him a few moments to tell were he was. It was a rough circle, with low brush and grass. The moon shone down, its large glowing surface covering the whole area in strange silver light.
He looked up and judged by the stars that Oakshire was only half a mile north from him. He turned around, hearing the stomp of heavy iron shod boots, clomping through the under growth.

Bloody darkness, just what I need. He thought

Orcs, how could he not have heard them? He was getting careless. They were great eight foot monsters. Their muscular arms bulging out of their grimy leather and mail coats. Their skin was hues of grey green and sickening black. There what would have been human faces were distorted by, pig snouts their overbearing lower jaws, jutting out like a fortress wall, disgusting yellow teeth the parapets. They each held, a great cleaver chipped and with old blood still on the blade, no man could have lifted the thing two handed, but these creatures did it with ease as they slowly approached their prey.

Good only three of them.

I can be done quickly and be on my way. He thought

He drew his sword, its slightly curved blade flashing in the moon’s light. He held it firmly in both hands, ready for his approaching enemy. He had been taught from early childhood to use it and he would need it more then ever now. The three of them came at him, all together hoping to overwhelm him, with brute force and numbers. They gave out a roar of pure rage, and they were upon him. The first tried to knock him down with an aggressive shoulder barge. As the grey meaty slab of muscle came towards him, he spun away at the last second, stabbing this blade through the neck of the abomination. It burst through in a cloud of black blood and arteries. He pulled his blade, now shimmering with the things life blood, just in time to parry an overhead blow of the second orc. The third was there, and the two slashing and hacking forced him back, as he desperately blocked. He flowed like liquid from each parry to counter attack, but he couldn’t keep it up forever.

I must end this.

I don’t have time!

I must warn them! He thought

He stepped back as the two orc’s gave powerful swings their blades digging into the earth in a shower of grit and dust. The blue glow filled his eyes. With elegant ease he jumped nine foot into the air, passing clear over the second orc’s head as it stared up in wonder, and shock. He embedded his blade in its grotesque face. It went clean through the things black pit of an eye and into the brain. It fell backwards, the blade standing erect in its head. The third and final orc grabbing the blade in both hands, took a powerful swing aiming for his midriff, like a farmer cutting the hay at harvest time. Fire enveloped his hands, and he grabbed the orc’s blade, stopping it instantly. The blade glowed, and then began to melt in puddles of glowing iron hissing as it burnt the grass, in the clearing. He grabbed the thing by the throat. Its flesh bubbling and hissing, incinerating its blood instantly, using his power given strength he flung the orc clear over his head, to land in a pile of broken ribs and hissing throat. A look of wonder, still on this ugly face. The power left him and he flopped to the ground, the wound in this side seemed to burn with the intensity of a forge.

I think I used a little too much considering. He thought

The bleeding began to slow again. He got up putting his leather boot on the orc’s skull, and wrenched the blade out of it head, with a squelch of brain and eye`. As he bent down to wipe his blade clean on the things, jacket he heard a dark rumbling, foreboding voice.
“Well done elf,” it snarled as he turned around.
“Now let’s see how you handle their lord”.
Marching out of the dark and misty shadows of the pine trees.

The great field have mercy. He thought

“Telona Windore I presume?” The thing grinned as I stood in the clearing. Basked in the moons glow, Telona looked on in horror and fear as it came towards him. It stood an impressive nine foot tall mass, of black matted fur and muscle. Standing on its hind legs it loomed over everything, its shadow blocking out the pure glow of the moon from Telona. Its thick tree trunk like arms ended in massive hands with four inch long claws jutting out from each of its fingers. Its matted fur covered every inch of its huge form, matted and muddy, the heavy musk of wolf floated like a unseen cloud around causing Telona to gag. Its long muzzle, full of serrated teeth ended in a huge yellow fangs dripping with spittle, the air misting as it rush out of the things nose. The eyes of this foul beast human but with a slit in its iris glared down at its tiny opponent, with pure hatred of a creature tortured and hunted throughout its whole life. A werewolf.
“This isn’t how it should end, dark prowler.” Telona stood his ground as the thing came within charging distance of him.
“If you manage to kill me,” it growled
“There will be others. You and your cause can’t win. We are too mighty.” It began to circle around him. Moving as well Telona kept the thing in front of him.
“My cause is the only one. You were made with malice angry and so you will die.” With this Telona put his hands to the ground, a metre apart, and lifted them up. The ground around the werewolf moved instantly. Rushing up and encasing it in a solid wall of stone and earth. It howled and began to claw, and hit his prison. Telona gasped he had no energy to finish off the vile thing. He got up and with all the speed he could muster ran in the direction of Oakshire, cracks already appearing in the things tomb.

It was three hours till dawn, and a grey haze was begin to form on the horizon, as Telona reach Oakshire. Well it would if it wasn’t raining. The heavens had seemed to open once Telona had made it out of the forest. His hood up he ran through the mud clogged streets, making his way to the Sleeping Lord inn. He knocked on the door several times before the landlord opened the door, a lantern in her hand.
“We’re not open, stranger,” she said with a yawn.
“Come back in a few hours.” As she began to close the door, he put a hand on it to stop her.
“I have some friends staying here mistress,” he said, as thunder began to boom.
“They made instruction that a companion of theirs might arrive in the early hours and that you were to provide for him.”
“Of course,” she said bowing.
“Sorry my lord I didn’t realize please come in I will just go and awake your companions and get some wine for you.” Closing the door behind her, she rushed up stairs her feet clomping on the old wood. Telona sat down and took a short rest. He was exhausted but he must deliver his message before he could even think about sleep. The wound in his side had stopped bleeding, and a thick red scab was left. His friends came down followed by the mistress of the inn, and a half asleep serving woman who rushed into the kitchen. They sat down and began to talk.
“What is your message Windore?” Hung the elf asked.
“A horde of darkness is coming out of the far east, my lord Hung.” He started
“They have been joined by some of the Northman tribes, but only a few; the rest are resisting them.”
“The fools.” Angred grumbled as the serving maid passed him a tankard of ale.
“The Deadlord and his vile minions will give them nothing but death”
“How many”? Hung asked
“Five hundred thousand of the Deadlord’s servants, and half of that the Northman,”
“Seven hundred thousand at least,” Angred went pale.
“We must gather the council of the great war again.” Hung spoke as the shock of the hordes size washed over him.
“We must hurry.” Telona got up.
“I was attacked by some orcs and a Werelord, on my way here we don’t have much time.” He made for the door; they heard it then the scrap of metal and shuffle of heavy boots from outside. They all drew their swords and opened the door stepping out in to the pouring rain and thunder. There was a mass of orcs waiting there each with a cleaver, a flash of lighting showing their barbaric cruel faces clearly.
“I told you we were mighty” The Werelord grinned and jumped and Telona roaring, as his orcs began to burn the village, and slaughter the peasants. The War had begun.