DarkStrike
08-31-06, 03:08 PM
They had been following him for days. Who? And why for that matter. He didn't know and it was not on the top of his list of priorities. First he needed to find a place out of the rain...no. First he needed to lose them. Then he could focus on getting out of the downpour.
Gritting his teeth in frustration, shivering uncontrollably Nenal ran as fast as he could. Weaving in and out of trees, Dashing between buildings, the pursuit had been going on for no less than five days. The cloaked fallen angel cursed at the white cloak he was forced to wear. It marked him as an outcast and was magically imbued so that Nenal could never remove it in it's entirety.
Moving fast across the open plains he had stumbled onto in his haste he looked behind him, the movement causing his dual blades, made of bone, to bump each other. This caused a small clakking sound that was muffled by the stark white velvet sheaths. Nobody was behind him, but that hardly lightened Nenal's spirits.
He realized bitterly that if he had indeed lost his pursuers he would have to keep moving for about an hour until he could be sure that they would not pick up his trail relatively soon. Cursing silently to himself, he wished to turn and make a stand, but he had about half a dozen figures following him, cloaked in similar robes as he was, only they were all black and grey.
Although he did wish to turn and fight, Nenal had no illusions over his abilities to take on six armed men, elves, whatever the hell they were. Thinking how bad his luck had run, Nenal figured it couldn't get much worse than what it was already.
How wrong he was.
The wind picked up and now he was no longer struggling through just cold rain, but angry, cold gale force winds. His shivering increased. Realizing that if he didn't stop soon and risk capture, he would die from a cold, quite frankly.
Nenal was determined though. He was going to make it away from these stalkers and live through the night, which was fast approaching, if he had reckoning of time left. Looking up, it was impossible to tell the time for the skies were a dark grey color.
Then the iceing on the cake became present. Lightning flashed and thunder roared. This would be what drove Nenal to a stop, underneath a particularly large tree. Glancing through the gloom, he had a sudden understanding, he had left the plains and was now standing within a new forest.
Staggering inwards through the trees a little farther, Nenal stopped and stared up the trunk of a gigantic redwood. The branches were large and thick, perfect to hide on and to sleep.
Too tired to transform, Nenal crawled up the tree at a sluggish pace. The rain could no longer reach him here, nestled in the gentle embrace of the tree. Reaching a point some thirty feet off the ground, Nenal literally collapsed onto the large, thick, and wide branch and his last thoughts as he drifted off into blackness was a vague fear at rolling off the branch and plummeting to his death. It made no difference, whether falling ot his death, or meeting it at the hands of his pursuers below made no difference to Nenal.
And thus the blackness claimed him.
Gritting his teeth in frustration, shivering uncontrollably Nenal ran as fast as he could. Weaving in and out of trees, Dashing between buildings, the pursuit had been going on for no less than five days. The cloaked fallen angel cursed at the white cloak he was forced to wear. It marked him as an outcast and was magically imbued so that Nenal could never remove it in it's entirety.
Moving fast across the open plains he had stumbled onto in his haste he looked behind him, the movement causing his dual blades, made of bone, to bump each other. This caused a small clakking sound that was muffled by the stark white velvet sheaths. Nobody was behind him, but that hardly lightened Nenal's spirits.
He realized bitterly that if he had indeed lost his pursuers he would have to keep moving for about an hour until he could be sure that they would not pick up his trail relatively soon. Cursing silently to himself, he wished to turn and make a stand, but he had about half a dozen figures following him, cloaked in similar robes as he was, only they were all black and grey.
Although he did wish to turn and fight, Nenal had no illusions over his abilities to take on six armed men, elves, whatever the hell they were. Thinking how bad his luck had run, Nenal figured it couldn't get much worse than what it was already.
How wrong he was.
The wind picked up and now he was no longer struggling through just cold rain, but angry, cold gale force winds. His shivering increased. Realizing that if he didn't stop soon and risk capture, he would die from a cold, quite frankly.
Nenal was determined though. He was going to make it away from these stalkers and live through the night, which was fast approaching, if he had reckoning of time left. Looking up, it was impossible to tell the time for the skies were a dark grey color.
Then the iceing on the cake became present. Lightning flashed and thunder roared. This would be what drove Nenal to a stop, underneath a particularly large tree. Glancing through the gloom, he had a sudden understanding, he had left the plains and was now standing within a new forest.
Staggering inwards through the trees a little farther, Nenal stopped and stared up the trunk of a gigantic redwood. The branches were large and thick, perfect to hide on and to sleep.
Too tired to transform, Nenal crawled up the tree at a sluggish pace. The rain could no longer reach him here, nestled in the gentle embrace of the tree. Reaching a point some thirty feet off the ground, Nenal literally collapsed onto the large, thick, and wide branch and his last thoughts as he drifted off into blackness was a vague fear at rolling off the branch and plummeting to his death. It made no difference, whether falling ot his death, or meeting it at the hands of his pursuers below made no difference to Nenal.
And thus the blackness claimed him.