Brunvar
02-16-09, 01:12 PM
Closed to Trago. Good luck, dinosaur man.
Set in front of Brunvar at the table was a small platter with meager fare. The large minotaur sat hunched over a pathetically small bowl of grayish sludge. The gruel was disgusting. Every day, three times a day, one of those blasted monks brought a serving of it to him. They claimed that it was nutritious, that it was what they themselves ate, that it would build strong bones and muscles. They claimed a lot of things! Hah! Brunvar knew better. This was no proper food for a growing young minotaur. He should be eating steak, venison, red meat, anything. Once he had lost his temper and told the monks that if they didn't start bringing him real food, he'd have to find other waysof supplementing his diet. He'd said this in a very obvious tone of voice, trying to be as threatening as possible, but the monk had just laughed at him. Brunvar sighed. It was true though, he was no threat to the monks. He needed them to heal his injured legs. They held that promise in front of him like a carrot in front of a donkey, and he wasn't able to resist.
He sighed and plunged his spoon once more into the gruel. He still greatly disliked the monks, but slowly he was developing a solid appreciation for their skills. Their healing powers were indeed all they were cracked up to be. The arenas they found, or made, or whatever, were always incredible. Powerful magic clearly was theirs to possess, in fact, sometimes their abilities seemed nearly unlimited in scope. Brunvar wondered at that. Many warriors used the facilities and services the monks offered, but no one really understood it. What was the history of these strange people in habits? Why did they do what they do? He certainly didn't know, and for a moment the minotaur wondered if anyone else did either. It never had seemed...important before. The thought slipped his mind, however, when suddenly he was not alone in the little room.
"Hello Brunvar." said a relatively pleasant and cheery voice.
"Decimus!" Brunvar exclaimed, shocked. This was the monk who had taken him to his last battle, the one with the mutant creature in the graveyard. What was he doing here?
"No manners, Brunvar? How out of character for you." the monk said amiably.
"You're pretty out of character yourself, monk." Brunvar grunted. It was true though, normally he was much more polite. Decimus had managed to surprise him though. "I've never seen any of you monks more than once."
"Well, I did say I was taking an interest in your case, Brunvar." Decimus said reproachfully. Brunvar just grunted under his breath.
Decimus sighed. "Well, Brunvar. I do have another opponent for you."
Brunvar looked up over his lunch at the monk. "Oh yeah, when do I fight them?"
"Now." Decimus said simply. "Good luck!"
Brunvar blinked. Wait...? There was no time to say anything though. He was being teleported away to who knew where. The room around him started to fade. The monk vanished. Then everything went dark.
Just as quickly as they had vanished, Brunvar's surroundings began to fall back into place. No more was he sitting in a small stone room, eating sludge. Now he was in the center of a vibrant jungle. Massive trees many times as tall as the largest building Brunvar had ever seen surrounded him. Birds and small animals chirped everywhere. Underfoot was a thick layer of dead leaves, a crunchy carpet likely infested with all sots of decomposing insects. The darkness on the forest floor was oppressive. Far above, the canopy of trees greedily hogged most of the light, leaving only a dim greenish glow, barely sufficient for seeing down here.
Brunvar cast about, looking for...Ah, there it was. He grabbed his axe from off the ground, glad the monks had not forgotten that much. Muscles in his arms bulged as he heaved it upwards, grasping the handle with both hands.
Those blasted monks though! Brunvar was ready for the match, of course. He was always ready for a match. The monks, however, had interrupted his lunch! As disgusting as the food had been, he never enjoyed fighting on an empty stomach. Forcing him to do that was simply rude. That grievous insult would not go unnoticed.
The minotaur sighed. No matter how many times he angered at the monks, his rage towards them never seemed to amount to anything. As he set off slowly across the forest floor, he wondered why that was.
Set in front of Brunvar at the table was a small platter with meager fare. The large minotaur sat hunched over a pathetically small bowl of grayish sludge. The gruel was disgusting. Every day, three times a day, one of those blasted monks brought a serving of it to him. They claimed that it was nutritious, that it was what they themselves ate, that it would build strong bones and muscles. They claimed a lot of things! Hah! Brunvar knew better. This was no proper food for a growing young minotaur. He should be eating steak, venison, red meat, anything. Once he had lost his temper and told the monks that if they didn't start bringing him real food, he'd have to find other waysof supplementing his diet. He'd said this in a very obvious tone of voice, trying to be as threatening as possible, but the monk had just laughed at him. Brunvar sighed. It was true though, he was no threat to the monks. He needed them to heal his injured legs. They held that promise in front of him like a carrot in front of a donkey, and he wasn't able to resist.
He sighed and plunged his spoon once more into the gruel. He still greatly disliked the monks, but slowly he was developing a solid appreciation for their skills. Their healing powers were indeed all they were cracked up to be. The arenas they found, or made, or whatever, were always incredible. Powerful magic clearly was theirs to possess, in fact, sometimes their abilities seemed nearly unlimited in scope. Brunvar wondered at that. Many warriors used the facilities and services the monks offered, but no one really understood it. What was the history of these strange people in habits? Why did they do what they do? He certainly didn't know, and for a moment the minotaur wondered if anyone else did either. It never had seemed...important before. The thought slipped his mind, however, when suddenly he was not alone in the little room.
"Hello Brunvar." said a relatively pleasant and cheery voice.
"Decimus!" Brunvar exclaimed, shocked. This was the monk who had taken him to his last battle, the one with the mutant creature in the graveyard. What was he doing here?
"No manners, Brunvar? How out of character for you." the monk said amiably.
"You're pretty out of character yourself, monk." Brunvar grunted. It was true though, normally he was much more polite. Decimus had managed to surprise him though. "I've never seen any of you monks more than once."
"Well, I did say I was taking an interest in your case, Brunvar." Decimus said reproachfully. Brunvar just grunted under his breath.
Decimus sighed. "Well, Brunvar. I do have another opponent for you."
Brunvar looked up over his lunch at the monk. "Oh yeah, when do I fight them?"
"Now." Decimus said simply. "Good luck!"
Brunvar blinked. Wait...? There was no time to say anything though. He was being teleported away to who knew where. The room around him started to fade. The monk vanished. Then everything went dark.
Just as quickly as they had vanished, Brunvar's surroundings began to fall back into place. No more was he sitting in a small stone room, eating sludge. Now he was in the center of a vibrant jungle. Massive trees many times as tall as the largest building Brunvar had ever seen surrounded him. Birds and small animals chirped everywhere. Underfoot was a thick layer of dead leaves, a crunchy carpet likely infested with all sots of decomposing insects. The darkness on the forest floor was oppressive. Far above, the canopy of trees greedily hogged most of the light, leaving only a dim greenish glow, barely sufficient for seeing down here.
Brunvar cast about, looking for...Ah, there it was. He grabbed his axe from off the ground, glad the monks had not forgotten that much. Muscles in his arms bulged as he heaved it upwards, grasping the handle with both hands.
Those blasted monks though! Brunvar was ready for the match, of course. He was always ready for a match. The monks, however, had interrupted his lunch! As disgusting as the food had been, he never enjoyed fighting on an empty stomach. Forcing him to do that was simply rude. That grievous insult would not go unnoticed.
The minotaur sighed. No matter how many times he angered at the monks, his rage towards them never seemed to amount to anything. As he set off slowly across the forest floor, he wondered why that was.