Re: Mini-Grand 5106 [Round 2: The Graben]
09-09-2011, 10:03 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by XX.
Morokh woke to the uncomfortable feeling that his head had been bashed in by a supernaturally dense book.
Odd, fuzzy shapes writhed in front of him as he gradually regained his consciousness. Quietly at first, then louder and louder, he began to hear a mumbled string of sounds that it took him a few seconds to realize were words.
“Ah, here he is. Welcome back.”
The spearman sat up, touching a hand gingerly to his head and wincing when it came away covered in half-congealed blood. “Y-you…”
“I did what I had to do, boy. You will live.”
Even through the fog that wouldn’t quite seem to leave his vision, Morokh recognized the face before him. Morokh drew his legs up suddenly and yelped as the motion sent a burning dagger of pain through his skull. “You! I- I-” He fumbled desperately for his spear but felt only damp rocks under his hand. He had to find it before-
“As entertaining as I find your inability to say anything other than pronouns,” came another voice, this one cold and clipped, “I’m afraid I must interrupt your little speech. We need you to take us back to your village, and we need you to do it quickly.”
The speaker’s voice brought back a flash of memory: an odd sound, a stranger in a cave, a blow to the back of Morokh’s head… he glared at the man, belatedly realizing that nestled in the stranger’s arms was a massive rectangular object on which a pale finger trailed ominously. The man chuckled, gesturing to the open page. “I suggest you do as I say, unless you’d like to find out what it feels like to have your blood boiled inside your skin. Though that won’t happen unless it has to. I am a friend of the Spider, as you so eloquently put it.”
Morokh was not particularly in the mood for this shit, especially not when the leader of his most hated enemies was sitting directly across from him, clearly in league with the stranger. With a wounded sort of dignity the warrior got to his feet. “I will take you to the Goddess,” he said slowly, still tasting blood in his mouth, “but may the Spider help your miserable soul if you wish her harm.”
The strange man just smirked. “Why, who could ever want that?”
____________
A band of Red Spider warriors flowed through the jungle on silent feet.
The Ghost Spider had told them what their quarry looked like, in her own way; women, paler skinned than the tribe except for one, prone to loud and irritating chatter. That was all the hunters needed. They had stalked animals that could blend into the shadows at a moment’s notice all their lives. Five clumsy strangers could not be that difficult to locate.
Their leader hissed between her filed teeth as the group approached the lines of stumpy trees that marked the edges of the Green Leaf’s territory. Dark eyes flickered nervously, ever alert for scouts, but none were apparent. The leader frowned. It was not like Green Leaf to be so negligent. Were its members elsewhere? Were they gathering for an attack?
With a hand motion she signaled the band forward and they darted between the branches, quick as striking snakes. They wound their way ever closer to the enemy village, painfully aware that triggering an alert would spell a quick and painful death for them all. But no Green Leaves were apparent, even as they grew close enough to see the smoke trail from the village’s cookfire; the forest was deathly still. Only the sound of the river was audible, a dull rushing of water that resonated through the trees-
The leader’s hand flew up. The hunters froze obediently as she lowered it slowly, pointing between two trunks. A group of young women was walking behind a dark-skinned girl wearing nothing but the hair on her head. As they watched, frozen, a high-pitched whining winged its way to them over the sound of the river.
“So you guys are like, a thing now, right? I mean, you kissed her. That totally makes you two a thing.”
The leader’s hand clenched into a fist, and as one the hunters sprang towards their quarry. Ataya turned at the sound just in time to catch a glimpse of a spear hurdling through the air, on a collision path for a spot directly between her eyes.
Morokh woke to the uncomfortable feeling that his head had been bashed in by a supernaturally dense book.
Odd, fuzzy shapes writhed in front of him as he gradually regained his consciousness. Quietly at first, then louder and louder, he began to hear a mumbled string of sounds that it took him a few seconds to realize were words.
“Ah, here he is. Welcome back.”
The spearman sat up, touching a hand gingerly to his head and wincing when it came away covered in half-congealed blood. “Y-you…”
“I did what I had to do, boy. You will live.”
Even through the fog that wouldn’t quite seem to leave his vision, Morokh recognized the face before him. Morokh drew his legs up suddenly and yelped as the motion sent a burning dagger of pain through his skull. “You! I- I-” He fumbled desperately for his spear but felt only damp rocks under his hand. He had to find it before-
“As entertaining as I find your inability to say anything other than pronouns,” came another voice, this one cold and clipped, “I’m afraid I must interrupt your little speech. We need you to take us back to your village, and we need you to do it quickly.”
The speaker’s voice brought back a flash of memory: an odd sound, a stranger in a cave, a blow to the back of Morokh’s head… he glared at the man, belatedly realizing that nestled in the stranger’s arms was a massive rectangular object on which a pale finger trailed ominously. The man chuckled, gesturing to the open page. “I suggest you do as I say, unless you’d like to find out what it feels like to have your blood boiled inside your skin. Though that won’t happen unless it has to. I am a friend of the Spider, as you so eloquently put it.”
Morokh was not particularly in the mood for this shit, especially not when the leader of his most hated enemies was sitting directly across from him, clearly in league with the stranger. With a wounded sort of dignity the warrior got to his feet. “I will take you to the Goddess,” he said slowly, still tasting blood in his mouth, “but may the Spider help your miserable soul if you wish her harm.”
The strange man just smirked. “Why, who could ever want that?”
____________
A band of Red Spider warriors flowed through the jungle on silent feet.
The Ghost Spider had told them what their quarry looked like, in her own way; women, paler skinned than the tribe except for one, prone to loud and irritating chatter. That was all the hunters needed. They had stalked animals that could blend into the shadows at a moment’s notice all their lives. Five clumsy strangers could not be that difficult to locate.
Their leader hissed between her filed teeth as the group approached the lines of stumpy trees that marked the edges of the Green Leaf’s territory. Dark eyes flickered nervously, ever alert for scouts, but none were apparent. The leader frowned. It was not like Green Leaf to be so negligent. Were its members elsewhere? Were they gathering for an attack?
With a hand motion she signaled the band forward and they darted between the branches, quick as striking snakes. They wound their way ever closer to the enemy village, painfully aware that triggering an alert would spell a quick and painful death for them all. But no Green Leaves were apparent, even as they grew close enough to see the smoke trail from the village’s cookfire; the forest was deathly still. Only the sound of the river was audible, a dull rushing of water that resonated through the trees-
The leader’s hand flew up. The hunters froze obediently as she lowered it slowly, pointing between two trunks. A group of young women was walking behind a dark-skinned girl wearing nothing but the hair on her head. As they watched, frozen, a high-pitched whining winged its way to them over the sound of the river.
“So you guys are like, a thing now, right? I mean, you kissed her. That totally makes you two a thing.”
The leader’s hand clenched into a fist, and as one the hunters sprang towards their quarry. Ataya turned at the sound just in time to catch a glimpse of a spear hurdling through the air, on a collision path for a spot directly between her eyes.