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  1. #1
    Senior Member

    EXP: 7,350, Level: 3
    Level completed: 59%, EXP required for next Level: 1,650
    Level completed: 59%,
    EXP required for next Level: 1,650


    The Huntsman's Avatar

    GP
    1,069

    Name
    Fil'ayn Kiljarden
    Age
    87
    Race
    Drow
    Gender
    Male
    Location
    Alerar

    Pink and Silver (Closed, Mature)

    Extreme mature content. Please do not need to read. Sexual content begins at post 12.
    Tular was - closer to my homeland than I had been in several months. I - wasn't here for that though. I had been asked to help take down a small selection of wild beasts that had been threatening several villages on the peninsula. So I was patrolling the region, taking an opportunity to stretch out and get a bit of hunting done.

    I shifted my coat, resettling it on my shoulders as I narrowed my eyes at the ground. Twenty minutes ago, I had spotted the first signs of trouble. Brush was broken, heavily - like multiple forms had charged through, quite rapidly. I had begun stalking along this trail, picking up pace when I noticed droplets of blood. And now -

    Now I was staring at the clear marks of a pack of wolves. And at least one of them had clawed something. Damn, this looked like the claw marks of a dire wolf - so whatever they were chasing was in danger. And this must be the one on my list - a dire wolf that had recently brought a pack into the nearby area. I growled and picked up my pace - I saw some hoof prints, so it might be a rider or a wild horse. Hopefully it was the latter, and some poor person wasn't being chased by a pack of hungry wolves.

    As I ran along, feet skimming the ground, I drew out iron spikes from my vest. If, by luck, I managed to get there before whatever they were chasing fell, then using the throwing spikes might be able to buy them some time. I heard loud snarling, snapping - and frantic whinnying. A horse - but a mount, or wild? I broke through the trees - and froze.

    Neither.

    The animal, swirling, spinning and lashing out, forcing the wolves back, bleeding down one flank, was a brilliant white - with very faint tinges of a pinkish grey at the base of the coat. The hooves, covered in thick tufts of fur, were a faint grey, tinged with pink. Wild, unkempt mane and tail flew free as the animal kept the would-be predators at bay. But what froze me, why arrested me in my track - was the spiraling horn, white, tinged with traces of pink. From its neck hung a coil of rope, tied around like a noose.

    The wolves, led by the dire wolf, had found a damn unicorn. And were harrying the equine animal - it was putting up a valiant effort, but in time they would wear it down and kill it. It was trapped, and from flashes of panic in its pink eyes, it knew it. I - well. I could not let that happen.

    So I changed the game. One of the wolves lunged forward, its muzzle snapping for the unicorn’s rear flank - and it let out a pained yelp as iron buried itself into the snarling mouth. It spun, knocking over one of its companions, trying to find where the attack had come from. Behind my mask, I let out a matching snarl as several of the wolves, including the dire beast, turned to face me.

    That was fine. I could handle wolves. I swept the Saw-Spear from its holster, and rushed forward. I would take out the dire wolf first, it was easily the most dangerous of this pack. But - as I got close, I stumbled. A dizzying, giddy feeling washed over me, and it broke my attention for crucial seconds. The dire wolf lunged at me, and it leapt up. Its fangs buried into the flesh of my shoulder, and I let out a pained grunt as I felt the venom seep into me.

    I swept the blade up, fighting through the pain, and carved open the stomach and rib cage. Damascus metal and enhanced muscles forced their way through flesh and bone, and it dropped, howling. My left arm hung limp at my side as my healing tried to fight the venom. I clicked the blade out to fill extension and swept it around, burying it into one of the normal wolves as it tried to leap for me.

    I could feel magic working - the enchantment upon the Saw-Spear ripping life force and feeding it into me. It helped - but it wasn't enough. I spun my weapon in a circle, and roared out a challenge to the wolves. Let them come - my blade would drink of their life.
    Last edited by Philomel; 02-06-2018 at 03:11 AM.
    Cruel and brutal are the blades for the Beast
    It's time to Carve and Clatter and Cleave.

    A member of the NevCrew:
    Nevin: Thread count: please, don't try.
    Erik: Thread count: five or six. Maybe seven...
    Huntsman: seven. Maybe eight. Shhhhhhh.
    Telli' thread count: zero. I just can't get into writing the little hellion.

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