Molotov
09-02-06, 07:38 PM
(Closed. This is bounty mission #3)
The night winds blew rapidly, picking up snow that had long since settled on the ground. Otherwise, everything was tranquil in the moonlight, nothing but a vast expanse of snow. The pristine ground seemed as if it hadn’t even been walked on by wild animals. It was all quite impressive, especially given that this unaltered bit of winter real estate was less than five miles from Knife’s Edge.
Yet, it was no coincidence that no one had wandered out on this day, or even that there were no animals around. Danger was lurking quite near, in the shape of a strange elf who had recently looted the zoo. This elf had a power over animals, and had now created a fortress of his own but ten miles away from the capital of Salvar. Nobles and peasants both watched uneasily, wondering what kind of rebellion was stirring from this elf who was until recently, a problem of Corone. Some people said he was merely a mad man, others said that his plans were political in nature. All that was known for certain was that the Knife’s Edge zookeepers had testified that the elf called Avlo Defken was particularly lethal with daggers and that he possessed a particular gift with controlling wild animals.
The only other thing that Knife’s Edge was sure about was that this was the biggest threat to their wellbeing since General Molotov had led his Mutant Misfits out of Berevar and through their territory.
Perhaps then, there would have been utter pandaemonium throughout the towns of civilized Salvar had they known who now stood out in that pristine wilderness. The stranger was covered by a dark cloak, but moved with enough purpose that it was clear that he had business of sorts with Avlo Defken. There was no uncertainty in the man’s gait, and not even the slightest hint of fear. Given that the cloaked man was meeting Avlo Defken, it seemed almost unfathomable that one could be that entirely brazen.
Unless it was, that one was meeting Avlo as an ally. Molotov grinned. It had become common knowledge that the mutant had sworn not to murder ever again. Then again, during his last adventure in Salvar, Molotov had also sworn that he would never return to the icy continent again. Promises were hard to keep. Especially when there were the promises of rewards like there were in this case.
Molotov thus moved through the darkness with a bit of a smile on his face, as if he had a secret that he couldn’t wait to have revealed. He was going to meet Avlo Defkin, it had already been arranged back in Corone. The elf had wanted a kingdom of his own, but had needed a qualified general to lead the troops. Naturally, Avlo had turned to Molotov, General known for his exploits not only in the Gisela open, but one whose unorthodox tactics were spoken of with nervous reverence in the northern outskirts of Berevar. Molotov had agreed, not because he particularly cared for Avlo, but because working for the elf would reward handsomely. Perhaps not handsomely enough that Molotov no longer minded the frigid cold weather, but well enough that the mutant was willing to have temporarily set aside his distaste.
“After all, it aint every day that someone bloody offers me a chance to be the most feared general in the history of all Salvar, now do they,” Molotov thought contentedly. “Specially not with the chance to rule half the world…”
Despite the cold, Molotov smiled warmly. The more and more he thought about it, the less he could wait to see Avlo again. Things were going to get very interesting in Salvar.
The night winds blew rapidly, picking up snow that had long since settled on the ground. Otherwise, everything was tranquil in the moonlight, nothing but a vast expanse of snow. The pristine ground seemed as if it hadn’t even been walked on by wild animals. It was all quite impressive, especially given that this unaltered bit of winter real estate was less than five miles from Knife’s Edge.
Yet, it was no coincidence that no one had wandered out on this day, or even that there were no animals around. Danger was lurking quite near, in the shape of a strange elf who had recently looted the zoo. This elf had a power over animals, and had now created a fortress of his own but ten miles away from the capital of Salvar. Nobles and peasants both watched uneasily, wondering what kind of rebellion was stirring from this elf who was until recently, a problem of Corone. Some people said he was merely a mad man, others said that his plans were political in nature. All that was known for certain was that the Knife’s Edge zookeepers had testified that the elf called Avlo Defken was particularly lethal with daggers and that he possessed a particular gift with controlling wild animals.
The only other thing that Knife’s Edge was sure about was that this was the biggest threat to their wellbeing since General Molotov had led his Mutant Misfits out of Berevar and through their territory.
Perhaps then, there would have been utter pandaemonium throughout the towns of civilized Salvar had they known who now stood out in that pristine wilderness. The stranger was covered by a dark cloak, but moved with enough purpose that it was clear that he had business of sorts with Avlo Defken. There was no uncertainty in the man’s gait, and not even the slightest hint of fear. Given that the cloaked man was meeting Avlo Defken, it seemed almost unfathomable that one could be that entirely brazen.
Unless it was, that one was meeting Avlo as an ally. Molotov grinned. It had become common knowledge that the mutant had sworn not to murder ever again. Then again, during his last adventure in Salvar, Molotov had also sworn that he would never return to the icy continent again. Promises were hard to keep. Especially when there were the promises of rewards like there were in this case.
Molotov thus moved through the darkness with a bit of a smile on his face, as if he had a secret that he couldn’t wait to have revealed. He was going to meet Avlo Defkin, it had already been arranged back in Corone. The elf had wanted a kingdom of his own, but had needed a qualified general to lead the troops. Naturally, Avlo had turned to Molotov, General known for his exploits not only in the Gisela open, but one whose unorthodox tactics were spoken of with nervous reverence in the northern outskirts of Berevar. Molotov had agreed, not because he particularly cared for Avlo, but because working for the elf would reward handsomely. Perhaps not handsomely enough that Molotov no longer minded the frigid cold weather, but well enough that the mutant was willing to have temporarily set aside his distaste.
“After all, it aint every day that someone bloody offers me a chance to be the most feared general in the history of all Salvar, now do they,” Molotov thought contentedly. “Specially not with the chance to rule half the world…”
Despite the cold, Molotov smiled warmly. The more and more he thought about it, the less he could wait to see Avlo again. Things were going to get very interesting in Salvar.