Covenant of the Druids - A Death   The huge wolf-like creature moved stealthily through the trees in Deadly Wolf Woods. This was not its normal hunting ground, and it was unaccustomed to the smells of the creatures that normally inhabited the area. The small red ratlings and the wasps were foreign to its senses, and were not found far to the east, where it made its home. But one smell the blood fenris did recognise was the smell of man. Lifting its head slightly, it sniffed delicately at the soft breeze blowing through the trees, before heading in the direction the scent was coming from. Man was to the east. Without a sound, it made its way through the woods, until it saw it’s prey. It was indeed a man, although this one was a lot smaller than the ones it had encountered in the past. And it smelled blood. The man-creature was wounded badly. It swayed back and forth as it moved closer to where the giant wolf was hiding. The fenris could smell a taint in the scent of the man-creature’s blood, which would normally be enough to deter it from attacking. But it was far from home, and its hunger had not been satisfied by the rats and wasps. When the man-creature was close by, it prepared to pounce.   Snicker stumbled blindly through the trees of Deadly Wolf Woods. His small frame was hunched over, as he pushed his way northwards. He paused a moment, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hands, trying to clear his vision. Only minutes earlier he had been in the Killing Fields, where he had fought and destroyed a Daemon of Darkness. But not before the creature had wounded him severely. To make matters worse, it had used its magic to poison him. He had patched up his wounds as best he could, and thought little of the poison, but now he realised his folly. It had not seemed strong at first, but before long he had found himself sweating profusely and shivering uncontrollably. Now his vision had deteriorated to the point that he could barely make out what was before him, despite the light provided by the sun overhead. When he heard a low growl to the west, it barely registered in his fogged mind. Straining to focus, he could only vaguely make out the huge red shape that was crouched a few feet away from him. He spent a brief moment wondering what a fenris was doing in these woods, before his hands fumbled at the scabbard at his side. A sword of power was sheathed there, a gift given to him by Rusty in Kurz. He felt clumsy and awkward as he drew the red blade and held it before him. The creature, oblivious to the sword, suddenly launched itself through the air, its jaws opening wide. Snicker remained still initially. He was worried that in his current state he would trip and fall if he tried to run. Instead, he concentrated on being ready for the fenris’ attack. When it jumped, he took a small step to the side and brought the sword around in a wide arc. Snicker was grateful for the magic inherent in the blade. It seemed to have a life of its own as it swung truly, striking the creature in the side. The fenris had too much momentum however and pushed the small warrior backwards, knocking him to the ground. Oblivious to the deep wound it bore, the fenris recovered first, and pounced on the prone warrior. Snicker brought his sword up almost instinctively, impaling the beast through the chest. The creature did not die straight away, but continued to snap and writhe at him, creating a new series of wounds on the warriors arms and shoulders, before eventually its life force disappeared and it slumped on top of him. It took almost all of Snicker’s remaining strength to push the dead fenris to the side. He tried not to gag at the stench of the creature’s matted fur, as he struggled painfully to his feet. Once he was upright once more, he had to take a moment to steady himself as a wave of pain and dizziness enveloped him. He was dying. He knew that with complete certainty. Kurz was already too far away, as was Leinster. There was only one place close enough that he knew of, where he might find aid. It was rumoured that there were a pair of altars to the north which would heal those who prayed at it. Snicker had never seen these altars but knew that they were supposedly only a short distance beyond the woods. Wincing with every step, he headed in that direction. The minutes seemed to drag by like hours as he staggered out of the woods and into the open air. Each step was a form of torture, as he tried to fight the poison in his system. His vision grew dimmer and more clouded, and he began to think he would never see his destination before the poison took its final toll on his already wounded body. But just when it seemed all was lost, he spied a small copse of trees ahead of him. And there, nestled amongst trees, with a stone sarcophagus separating them, were the two altars. Hope sprung within him, as he forced himself to move quicker. In his impatience he failed to see the small rock in front of him, and stumbled over it, falling face first onto the grass below. He lay there on the grass for a few moments, before crawling inch by inch towards the altars. When he was only a foot away from them, he felt the last of his energy disappear and stopped moving altogether. His eyes began to close of their own accord, and he struggled vainly to keep them open. In the end though, he knew he was too late. His last thoughts, as he lay dying on the ground, was of how close he had come. When he finally allowed his eyes to close, he knew that he would never open them again. Page 1 of 5 Return to Index Next Page   This page hosted by Get your own Free Home Page