12-30-2017, 11:45 PM
Erik stepped out into Dwarfholm once again, unsure of what to do. He was itching to get to his next task, but needed to heal first. As a prime, this wouldn't take long, but Erik was impatient and needed something to occupy himself. The crowds in Dwarfholm were no smaller than they were before, but Erik realised that people were staring at him as they passed. Looking down, Erik realised that his clothing was in a far worse state than he realised. His treasured cloak was soaked in blood, and shredded where the ghuls had bitten and clawed at him. Erik’s tunic and pants beneath the cloak were in similarly poor condition, making him look like he came out of a warzone. Erik quickly moved into a side alley between buildings and took out his orb of Omnillium. He carefully laid his cloak on the ground and focused on it, willing the Omnillium to repair the damaged fabric. Small tendrils of the glowing substance peeled out of the orb, snaking towards the tears in the material. When they reached them, they filled out the holes and came loose from their parent orb. Once each tendril was freed and retracted into the hole, it slowly faded, leaving royal blue fabric in its place. Erik smiled as he lifted up the repaired cloak and put it on, feeling it's familiar weight on his body once more.
Gingerly touching his wounds, Erik concluded that they were starting to close up, but weren't healed quite yet. Still unsure of how to pass the time, Erik decided to take a look at the smithy he had seen when he was looking for the stables. The psychic navigated his way towards the store and entered through the small wooden door. He had to stoop slightly to avoid hitting his head on the roof, the building clearly having been built with dwarves in mind, not humans. A dwarf sat behind a desk across the room from Erik, and the walls to the left and right of the room had weapon racks displaying an array of weapons. The store wasn't busy, but the were a few other dwarves inspecting the weapons on the wall. Approaching the weapon racks himself, Erik studied the sword closest to him. It was three feet in length, and had an ornate hilt forged in a spiral before ending in a steel ball. The workmanship of the blade was exceptional, and just looking at it made Erik self-conscious about his own smithing abilities. Erik considered himself a decent blacksmith, but each weapon on the rack blew his own out of the water with complex, ornate designs. Erik’s eye for forging wasn't good enough for him to tell how well they would do in battle without testing them, but he guessed that they would easily outperform Mageslayer.
Erik left the smith unsure of how to feel. He never expected his workmanship to outdo a dwarf, but the sheer difference in technical skill left a bitter feeling in his chest. Feeling his wounds again, Erik decided that they had closed up enough to go back to get his next task. He made his way to the building the representative would be waiting in, and knocked before letting himself in. The dwarf’s eyes flicked up to the door as Erik entered, and a look of confusion crossed his face. “Surely your wounds haven't healed already.” He remarked with a concerned tone of voice. “Being a prime has its perks.” Erik said, pulling up his sleeve to reveal that his cuts had turned to little more than pink lines in his flesh. The dwarf thought for a moment before nodding to himself. “Alright, you can have your next task. But, before I do, apologies are in order for the ghul incident.” Erik shook his head vigorously. “I already told you, I've moved past it.” “You don't understand the process behind our tunnelling, so please, let me explain.” Erik relented, sitting in the chair on the other side of the dwarf’s desk.
“When we are creating a new tunnel, we send a small group of miners, usually two or three if it's not a major project. They dig the tunnel out, taking any loose ore and placing lanterns at regular intervals. When they breach into another cavern, however, the mining stops there. It's rare that this happens, and when it does nothing of note happens often, but we send an expedition force of about four dwarves in case we break into a dragon’s hibernation cave or a ghul nest. The tunnel you mined into is less than a week old, and we hadn't gotten to sending the expedition force yet, as they're usually low priority. Most dwarves avoid unexplored tunnels, but I sent you down the new tunnel I thought they were being overly cautious. As you know, I was wrong. I'm sorry.”
Silence descended over the room for a moment, before Erik sighed. “I've already told you,” He paused, realising that he didn't know the dwarf’s name. “Uther.” “I've already told you, Uther, I'm not holding a grudge. Let's put it behind us, so I can get on with my next task.” Uther nodded, before taking a piece of parchment out of his desk. “Do you know what a wampa is?” Erik shook his head, mystified. “Take a look at this, then.” The dwarf handed Erik the parchment, which had a drawing of a strange white beast on it, along with a block of text. “This is a fresh report about a wampa who was sighted less than an hour away from Dwarfholm, it's been terrorising local farmers and eating their goats. A tracker has located it's lair, and it's going to be your job to hunt it down and skin it.” Erik studied the parchment, noting the directions to the cave. “Is there anything I should know about this ‘wampa’?” Uther considered the question for a moment. “Don't let it hit you.”
Erik exited the main gates of Dwarfholm out into the bitter cold of the fields once again, holding his lantern up to guide him through the dark. ‘At least it's not snowing too heavily.’ The psychic thought to himself. Erik trudged through the heavy snow, feeling the weight of the skinning knife he had summoned on his hip and occasionally glancing at the parchment to make sure he was heading in the right direction. “So I turn at the third ridge… And then… Go down the snow drift…” Erik muttered to himself as he tried to tell which direction he was moving in. Maybe it would have been better to wait for sunrise, but Erik wanted to get the the wampa’s lair while it was asleep. After around 45 minutes of walking, Erik spotted wisps of smoke rising into the air. Powering forward, the roof of a farmhouse came into view. Heart racing, the psychic checked the parchment. Sure enough, the farmhouse was in the directions and he was getting close to the wampa’s cave. Taking a right, Erik moved past the house and continued up a shallow hill until he reached a steep drop, barely avoiding falling. From his view on the small cliff, Erik spotted a the opening of a cave in the wall of a nearby ridge. The mouth of the cave was littered with the bones of a number of creatures, shining white in the glow of the lantern.
Erik slowly lowered himself down the cliff, holding the lantern in his mouth while he carefully manoeuvred downwards. Relief flooded Erik’s body as his feet touched the bottom, a broken leg was the last thing he needed outside the lair of a hungry monster. The psychic crept up to the lair of the beast and raised his lantern, illuminating the depths of the cave. Erik’s eyes scanned the cave for the mass of white fur, and spotted it balled up in the furthest corner from the entrance. Erik began to creep inside when he shifted the lantern slightly and saw something that made him freeze in place. Something caught the light and was glinting at Erik through the gloom. Erik realised what was happening, but it was already too late. The wampa had seen him. The beast rose to its feet slowly, its eyes still shining in the light of the lantern. Erik realised that it would be big, but wasn't prepared for its full size. It towered a metre above Erik and stared down at the psychic with a predatory gaze. Horrifyingly, its white fur was stained red from its last meal. With a roar, it barrelled towards Erik, who turned tail with an admittedly undignified yelp.
Erik sprinted out of the cave mouth and threw himself towards the cliff wall he climbed down just moments before. The psychic raced up the wall, desperate to keep some distance between him and the monster behind him. Erik hauled himself over the cliff and onto the snow drift, dropping the lantern and making his way down before he even get to his feet. Purple mist crept from Erik’s sleeves before pooling in his open hands, forming into the curved shape of a shortbow. As the wampa effortlessly pulled itself over the cliff face, Erik was already taking aim. The psychic trained the violet arrow on the monster’s chest, the lantern on the ground his only guide.
Erik let the bolt fly, the arrow shooting through the air to fast for the lumbering beast to dodge. It struck true, but simply wasn't powerful enough to pierce through the wampa’s ribs and into its heart. The monster bellowed in pain, its eyes burning with bestial anger. It moved to advance towards Erik, but the psychic had already fired another arrow while shuffling backwards, this time striking the beast in the shoulder. Erik fired again and again, each shot hitting home but doing little other than slowing down the advancing wampa. Suddenly, the beast turned around. Erik thought it was giving up its chase, but quickly realised that the wampa was far from finished. Instead of fleeing, the wampa raised its foot and crushed Erik’s lantern, plunging them both into darkness.
Erik could hear his heartbeat racing as darkness descended. The only source of light was the faint glow of his bow, and the only sound he could hear was the howIing of the frigid winds. An arrow was ready in the bow, Erik only needed to get a look at the beast stalking him. The psychic focused, listening for anything nearby. The oppressive quiet was broken the a faint crunching of snow to Erik’s left. He spun on his heel and aimed into the darkness where the sound had come from. Less than two metres away from Erik, the wampa stared at him like a deer in the headlights. The fact that it had drawn so close made Erik jump, and he accidentally loosed his bolt into the darkness. The wampa roared in triumph as it rushed the momentarily defenceless Erik.
Fear struck Erik’s heart as he threw himself backwards, narrowly dodging the wampa’s claws. More psi poured from Erik’s sleeves, coalescing on the bow and merging with it, increasing its size drastically. The wampa was taken aback by the purple mist wreathing the weapon, but when it saw the massive bolt forming in the bow it knew it had to strike quickly. Erik aimed at the charging beast one more time, the great bow illuminating the maddened beast’s face and shining off the foam leaking from its mouth. Erik’s fingers released the bolt, letting it fly and praying that it would be enough. The massive arrow flew through the air and pierced the monster in its mouth, interrupting its maddened roar and slaying it instantly. Erik lent backwards and lay down in the snow, breathing hard as his bow shrunk back to its regular size. He felt like his heart was about to beat out of his chest, but he had slain the wampa.
After a long moment, Erik’s heart settled and he rose to his feet. The psychic drew the skinning knife and got to work, removing the wampa’s hide. The white fur was surprisingly soft, although the blood would have to be washed out before it could be used for anything. Erik folded the wampa’s hide into a more manageable size, before producing his orb of Omnillium and summoning a new lantern and matches. After the shining substance receded, Erik lit the lantern and started making his way back to Dwarfholm, excited to show Uther his handiwork.
Gingerly touching his wounds, Erik concluded that they were starting to close up, but weren't healed quite yet. Still unsure of how to pass the time, Erik decided to take a look at the smithy he had seen when he was looking for the stables. The psychic navigated his way towards the store and entered through the small wooden door. He had to stoop slightly to avoid hitting his head on the roof, the building clearly having been built with dwarves in mind, not humans. A dwarf sat behind a desk across the room from Erik, and the walls to the left and right of the room had weapon racks displaying an array of weapons. The store wasn't busy, but the were a few other dwarves inspecting the weapons on the wall. Approaching the weapon racks himself, Erik studied the sword closest to him. It was three feet in length, and had an ornate hilt forged in a spiral before ending in a steel ball. The workmanship of the blade was exceptional, and just looking at it made Erik self-conscious about his own smithing abilities. Erik considered himself a decent blacksmith, but each weapon on the rack blew his own out of the water with complex, ornate designs. Erik’s eye for forging wasn't good enough for him to tell how well they would do in battle without testing them, but he guessed that they would easily outperform Mageslayer.
Erik left the smith unsure of how to feel. He never expected his workmanship to outdo a dwarf, but the sheer difference in technical skill left a bitter feeling in his chest. Feeling his wounds again, Erik decided that they had closed up enough to go back to get his next task. He made his way to the building the representative would be waiting in, and knocked before letting himself in. The dwarf’s eyes flicked up to the door as Erik entered, and a look of confusion crossed his face. “Surely your wounds haven't healed already.” He remarked with a concerned tone of voice. “Being a prime has its perks.” Erik said, pulling up his sleeve to reveal that his cuts had turned to little more than pink lines in his flesh. The dwarf thought for a moment before nodding to himself. “Alright, you can have your next task. But, before I do, apologies are in order for the ghul incident.” Erik shook his head vigorously. “I already told you, I've moved past it.” “You don't understand the process behind our tunnelling, so please, let me explain.” Erik relented, sitting in the chair on the other side of the dwarf’s desk.
“When we are creating a new tunnel, we send a small group of miners, usually two or three if it's not a major project. They dig the tunnel out, taking any loose ore and placing lanterns at regular intervals. When they breach into another cavern, however, the mining stops there. It's rare that this happens, and when it does nothing of note happens often, but we send an expedition force of about four dwarves in case we break into a dragon’s hibernation cave or a ghul nest. The tunnel you mined into is less than a week old, and we hadn't gotten to sending the expedition force yet, as they're usually low priority. Most dwarves avoid unexplored tunnels, but I sent you down the new tunnel I thought they were being overly cautious. As you know, I was wrong. I'm sorry.”
Silence descended over the room for a moment, before Erik sighed. “I've already told you,” He paused, realising that he didn't know the dwarf’s name. “Uther.” “I've already told you, Uther, I'm not holding a grudge. Let's put it behind us, so I can get on with my next task.” Uther nodded, before taking a piece of parchment out of his desk. “Do you know what a wampa is?” Erik shook his head, mystified. “Take a look at this, then.” The dwarf handed Erik the parchment, which had a drawing of a strange white beast on it, along with a block of text. “This is a fresh report about a wampa who was sighted less than an hour away from Dwarfholm, it's been terrorising local farmers and eating their goats. A tracker has located it's lair, and it's going to be your job to hunt it down and skin it.” Erik studied the parchment, noting the directions to the cave. “Is there anything I should know about this ‘wampa’?” Uther considered the question for a moment. “Don't let it hit you.”
Erik exited the main gates of Dwarfholm out into the bitter cold of the fields once again, holding his lantern up to guide him through the dark. ‘At least it's not snowing too heavily.’ The psychic thought to himself. Erik trudged through the heavy snow, feeling the weight of the skinning knife he had summoned on his hip and occasionally glancing at the parchment to make sure he was heading in the right direction. “So I turn at the third ridge… And then… Go down the snow drift…” Erik muttered to himself as he tried to tell which direction he was moving in. Maybe it would have been better to wait for sunrise, but Erik wanted to get the the wampa’s lair while it was asleep. After around 45 minutes of walking, Erik spotted wisps of smoke rising into the air. Powering forward, the roof of a farmhouse came into view. Heart racing, the psychic checked the parchment. Sure enough, the farmhouse was in the directions and he was getting close to the wampa’s cave. Taking a right, Erik moved past the house and continued up a shallow hill until he reached a steep drop, barely avoiding falling. From his view on the small cliff, Erik spotted a the opening of a cave in the wall of a nearby ridge. The mouth of the cave was littered with the bones of a number of creatures, shining white in the glow of the lantern.
Erik slowly lowered himself down the cliff, holding the lantern in his mouth while he carefully manoeuvred downwards. Relief flooded Erik’s body as his feet touched the bottom, a broken leg was the last thing he needed outside the lair of a hungry monster. The psychic crept up to the lair of the beast and raised his lantern, illuminating the depths of the cave. Erik’s eyes scanned the cave for the mass of white fur, and spotted it balled up in the furthest corner from the entrance. Erik began to creep inside when he shifted the lantern slightly and saw something that made him freeze in place. Something caught the light and was glinting at Erik through the gloom. Erik realised what was happening, but it was already too late. The wampa had seen him. The beast rose to its feet slowly, its eyes still shining in the light of the lantern. Erik realised that it would be big, but wasn't prepared for its full size. It towered a metre above Erik and stared down at the psychic with a predatory gaze. Horrifyingly, its white fur was stained red from its last meal. With a roar, it barrelled towards Erik, who turned tail with an admittedly undignified yelp.
Erik sprinted out of the cave mouth and threw himself towards the cliff wall he climbed down just moments before. The psychic raced up the wall, desperate to keep some distance between him and the monster behind him. Erik hauled himself over the cliff and onto the snow drift, dropping the lantern and making his way down before he even get to his feet. Purple mist crept from Erik’s sleeves before pooling in his open hands, forming into the curved shape of a shortbow. As the wampa effortlessly pulled itself over the cliff face, Erik was already taking aim. The psychic trained the violet arrow on the monster’s chest, the lantern on the ground his only guide.
Erik let the bolt fly, the arrow shooting through the air to fast for the lumbering beast to dodge. It struck true, but simply wasn't powerful enough to pierce through the wampa’s ribs and into its heart. The monster bellowed in pain, its eyes burning with bestial anger. It moved to advance towards Erik, but the psychic had already fired another arrow while shuffling backwards, this time striking the beast in the shoulder. Erik fired again and again, each shot hitting home but doing little other than slowing down the advancing wampa. Suddenly, the beast turned around. Erik thought it was giving up its chase, but quickly realised that the wampa was far from finished. Instead of fleeing, the wampa raised its foot and crushed Erik’s lantern, plunging them both into darkness.
Erik could hear his heartbeat racing as darkness descended. The only source of light was the faint glow of his bow, and the only sound he could hear was the howIing of the frigid winds. An arrow was ready in the bow, Erik only needed to get a look at the beast stalking him. The psychic focused, listening for anything nearby. The oppressive quiet was broken the a faint crunching of snow to Erik’s left. He spun on his heel and aimed into the darkness where the sound had come from. Less than two metres away from Erik, the wampa stared at him like a deer in the headlights. The fact that it had drawn so close made Erik jump, and he accidentally loosed his bolt into the darkness. The wampa roared in triumph as it rushed the momentarily defenceless Erik.
Fear struck Erik’s heart as he threw himself backwards, narrowly dodging the wampa’s claws. More psi poured from Erik’s sleeves, coalescing on the bow and merging with it, increasing its size drastically. The wampa was taken aback by the purple mist wreathing the weapon, but when it saw the massive bolt forming in the bow it knew it had to strike quickly. Erik aimed at the charging beast one more time, the great bow illuminating the maddened beast’s face and shining off the foam leaking from its mouth. Erik’s fingers released the bolt, letting it fly and praying that it would be enough. The massive arrow flew through the air and pierced the monster in its mouth, interrupting its maddened roar and slaying it instantly. Erik lent backwards and lay down in the snow, breathing hard as his bow shrunk back to its regular size. He felt like his heart was about to beat out of his chest, but he had slain the wampa.
After a long moment, Erik’s heart settled and he rose to his feet. The psychic drew the skinning knife and got to work, removing the wampa’s hide. The white fur was surprisingly soft, although the blood would have to be washed out before it could be used for anything. Erik folded the wampa’s hide into a more manageable size, before producing his orb of Omnillium and summoning a new lantern and matches. After the shining substance receded, Erik lit the lantern and started making his way back to Dwarfholm, excited to show Uther his handiwork.
Quote:2095 words. 2095 + 3374 = 5469/10,000 words
11639 characters with spaces. 11639 + 20889 = 32538
9550 characters without spaces. 9550 + 17121 = 26671
All according to google docs.
Got the wampa hide.
*The emperor of mankind yeets erik into a sun*
[Today 08:03 pm] Erik Vrell : Bruh
[Today 08:03 pm] The emperor of mankind : don't worship gods
[Today 08:03 pm] Erik Vrell : Bruh
[Today 08:03 pm] The emperor of mankind : don't worship gods