FANFIC - WAR - The Luckstone

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FANFIC - WAR - The Luckstone

Postby Proto on Fri Jan 26, 2007 5:02 pm

Ratraz raised his mud-caked nose in the air and sniffed, his whiskers quivering in the cool night breeze.
“Ratraz ssmell filthy manman...” he chattered to himself, his lip curling up over his yellowed teeth in disgust merely at the thought. For an instant he considered hunting down the prey he knew to be nearby, imagining the pleasure he would take in running his blade across their throat. His mission, however, came from Skavenblight itself and Ratraz dared not risk the wrath of the Council by wasting time on recreational pursuits. His thoughts, however, were drawn inexorably to…

“YesYes, i hear”

Ratraz glanced around furtively. Seemingly satisfied that no covetous eyes were upon him, he squatted down on a weather-beaten boulder, concealed from the main highway by a copse of golden-brown trees. Slowly and deliberately he untied the small leather pouch attached to his belt and carefully removed the contents. Setting the pouch to one side he unwrapped the piece of calfskin in which his prize was bound, his wickedly clawed paws already trembling with trepidation. He stared transfixed at the imperfect lump of lustreless matter before him, oblivious to the three pairs of eyes now studying him from the copse.

The longbow sang it’s deadly hymn and too late Ratraz realized his folly. Rising from his haunches he reached for his dagger.

It was all a fraction too late. His actions were an exercise in futility as the iron-tipped shaft nestled squarely in between his shoulder blades, with enough punch to send him barrelling off the boulder. In the commotion, a flailing paw sent the curious black lump bobbling off into the dried grass and shingle which littered the clearing. Frantically he searched for it, scrabbling at the loose dirt and stone with the last few ounces of strength in his rat-like frame, chattering incoherently as he went. Black, sticky blood oozed out over the underlying vegetation. Ratraz, with considerable effort, twisted onto his back. Like some macabre snow-angel he lay there flailing in the grass, a dark stain spreading ever further as his life-tide ebbed away, his panicked mind driven closer to insanity by the imminence of his death. Beside him, he thought he caught a final glimpse of the architect of his destruction, the prize he carried, the Council’s burden. But then, like everything, it was gone.

Perched on the boulder, longbow drawn and aimed at the inert Skaven body, the Elf glanced sideways at the bearded figure circling the boulder on the blindside, holding for a signal. From within his pot helmet there emanated a long sigh and the bearded man straightened. He looked almost disappointed to be re-sheathing his sword. He lobbed a mouthful of spit onto the bloody body at his feet.

“Saw the head off, burn the remains and bury the ash in a hole. Take no chances with these filthy vermin”. He stomped off in the direction of the highway, uncorking his water flask and taking a deep pull on something wholly more substantial than water, before remembering something and turning his great frame back towards his comrades.
“Get a move on you two! And don’t touch any of its kit but to lob it on the pyre, ye hear!” Muttering a string of curses, he carried on his way.

But only one of them paid him any heed. The other had heard a different call.
Last edited by Proto on Mon Jan 29, 2007 5:47 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Proto
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Postby Zzinc on Mon Jan 29, 2007 11:35 am

Now this is just teasing.. give me the rest!

Taking a scene of only a couple of minutes and making them contain this much of a storyline is pretty impressive. Makes me want to experiment with how I write, just like reading Nathreee's novel extracts really made me want to take the time to build a proper story and characters and try to create a world of my own like that.. Inspiring place this! :D

Outland will suffer, now I need to practise my writing!
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