05-22-2016, 09:46 PM
To a bystander, it would’ve been impossible to distinguish the pair as anything other than frozen statues that were stiff from rigor mortis. The pickaxeman held his pick high in the air, the blunt end poised to strike against the glowing, crystalline cobalt ores. He held his breath, not moving a muscle. He did not even turn around to see what had made the noise.
The dwarven sentry, however, was not so lucky. He had moved towards the left side of the cave as soon as he had smelled the rotten odor. It stunk of decay and filth, and he had nearly vomited upon sensing it. How the virescent recruit had not reacted, much less noticed, what was going on around him was something he wasn’t going to concern himself with. He kept completely still, holding his dagger towards the entrance as he stared directly at the animal standing within it.
The animal was well over eight feet tall, towering above both intruders even from a distance. Its fur was as white as the snow outside the mine, but it was caked with several blemishes. Its long, bulky arms were covered in grime, and its elongated, knife-like claws were coated with red blood. Its feet were large and soaking wet, with matted and torn hair.
Its head, though, was where the black-bearded pygmy drew his eyes to. He trembled.
Its mouth was more than big enough to swallow someone like Danish whole; a long slit near the bottom of its head that formed a malicious and conniving smile. It's black nostrils were visible above its line of a mouth, mucus running down it and onto its upper lip. It’s eyes, the escort noticed, were pale, with no hint of pigmentation or anything that resembled a “human” eye. Surrounding its eyes were massive scars, all cutting deep into its head that reached to its thick, protruding ram horns. It stood within the room’s entrance, grunting and murmuring.
It’s a wampa, Danish thought, his heart pumping, Inanna… I beg for your blessing… I wash myself of my sins…
The wampa slowly tilted its head up, sniffing the air. Before long, it stopped, turning its head towards the dwarf before walking towards him. It moved slowly and methodically, with each step careful and calculative.
The sentry remained as still as a statue even as the wampa moved closer and closer to him, the creature only stopping to sniff the air another time. It did not seem to notice Ballad standing near the ore, seemingly far too focused on this new smell. This delicious new smell it had never experienced before in its days down under.
The gunsmith glanced towards the pygmy, seeing the wampa almost on top of him. He had noticed its eyes for a split second as it smelled the atmosphere around it, and he knew what it meant. Under normal circumstances, he would’ve acted.
But of course, SPB had to stop him. This wasn’t the time for acting under improvisation. No, this was a time for thinking. This moment could impact several others in the future, for better or worse. He had to be smart about it.
He realized he only had two options, neither of which he liked. The first was obvious: let the wampa have its lunch while he snuck off with the cobalt. Doing that, though, would cost him a wampa hide. Then there’d be the loss of a potential ally...
His second option was more risky. The second would be to save the stupid zealot’s life, albeit at the cost of him potentially getting killed by the hulking abominable snowman. He fought over these two options in his head, silently debating with the inner spirit inhabiting his form. He looked back over towards the wampa, seeing it standing directly in front of the dwarf, its claws gleaming. The dwarf was staring back at him, his eyes filled with fear. He seemed to be silently pleading for help as the wampa looked down towards his form. It sniffed the air once more, as if to confirm what it already knew. It began to growl, raising its bloodied paws.
Oh fuck it.
The virescent pickaxeman thrust the pickaxe down onto the cobalt ores, knocking off a chunk in one fell swoop.
This remarkable act, however, was cut short by a nightmarish roar.
------------------------------------
Ballad was hardly able to turn around before he felt a lumpy, hairy thing charge into him, smashing itself and him into the wall. He thrashed around in its grip, the hilt of his pickaxe between his head and the jaws of the creature. He kicked forward, his foot bouncing off of its midsection. He continued kicking, pushing the things head as far away from him as possible.
The wampa bellowed, wrapping its blood-spattered arm around the green intruder. It dug its claws into his flesh, piercing his back. The gunsmith howled, his hold on his melee weapon loosening as the wampa’s gaping maw drew closer to his skull.
With a piercing scream, Ballad slid out the pistol hidden in his left sleeve, pulling the trigger. The beast flew back, landing on its back a few feet away. The gunshot echoed around the cave.
Silence began to fill the room as the first tiny bits of rock fell from the ceiling.
----------------------
"WHAT AR’ YA STANDIN’ THER FOR?! RUN!” yelled the dwarf as he bolted out of the room.
The gunsmith snapped out of his shock, his eyes darting around the room. He quickly rationalized his action as that of desperation and of being left with no other choice. The thing was both taller and stronger than him. It made perfect logical sense to use something he knew worked against it.
But now wasn’t the time for reminiscing. He swiftly reached towards the cobalt chunk, picking it up before dashing out of the room. A split second before he did, he turned his head towards the wampa, seeing it begin to stand up.
An idea popped into his mind.
Stashing his spent .50 single shot back into his sleeve, he pulled out his revolver. As he ran out of the room, his aim slightly wobbly, he squeezed the trigger. The bullet flew into the room, lodging itself into the animal’s shoulder. The beast let out a thunderous, rage-filled howl, turning towards the entrance of the cave.
He smiled behind his crimson scarf as he raced down the hallway, revolver in one hand and pickaxe in the other. Before long, he had caught back up with the midget sentry, who was moving forward at about the speed of an oversized oxen with a limp. Sweat coursed down his forehead and into his beard, his breathing hoarse.
““What.. *huff*… took ya… *huff*… so long?” He said, reaching up to his silver blunderbuss. He brought it over his head, holding it close to him as they ran through the rapidly collapsing mine.
“I was merely contending with the carnivore,” the gunner replied, squinting as deafening booms echoed around the hallway, followed by a deep, resounding roar.
The duo looked behind them, seeing the massive creature barrelling down the hallway towards them. It was barely short enough to fit in the small tunnels, yet that seemed to be a minor inconvenience at best. Sparks flew off the walls as its claws sliced across them, all of it’s attention now on ending the duo’s lives.
“Ar’ ya friggin’ crazy, troll?! Ya expect us to outrun a collapsin’ cave and THAT THIN’?"
“Just focus on getting us out of here!” Ballad hollered, lifting his left arm into the air. He fired his gun two times, neither shots hitting. His back felt numb, his wounds throbbing with each movement he made.
Danish said nothing, though among the sounds of a rapidly approaching angry wampa and the cracking of wooden supports as the roof of the cavern started to cave in on them, the gunsmith swore he heard a chuckle erupt from his partner.
They ran, and continued running. Guided by the dwarf, they traversed the long tunnels full of minecarts and rails, passing through intersection and intersection. The pygmy had an almost uncanny sense of direction, making decisions of which way to go in times that outright stunned the inventor. The dwarf always had a calm look on his face, as if nothing was wrong. The gunner didn’t know what to make of this. Was this something unique to dwarves, or was this literally divine intervention at work before his very eyes?
He quickly ditched the idea of it being a holy work.
The walls of the mines slowly turned from moist, slick rock to icy and snow covered as the chase continued. The mist disappeared, but the darkness did not. The sharpshooter felt his legs begin to burn as he continued to follow the guide, his breathing increasing in repetition and harshness. Danish wasn’t faring much better, to the point where he eventually was forced to ditch his blunderbuss due to its weight. The wampa began to close in on them, hardly caring that everything behind it was caving in and devouring everything it might’ve held dear. It’s only focus was on the two loud noises that had disturbed its home, trashed it, and hurt it. They deserved every bit of pain it was going to give them.
Eventually, after what felt like hours, they saw a light. They sprinted at full speed towards it, the cavern crumbling all around them. Roars and growls grew louder and louder as they got closer and closer to it. Rocks rained down on them as the entrance to the cave became closer, exactly 20 feet away. Than 15. 10. 5.
They sprinted through the entrance to the mine, rolling down the hill as the top of the mine shaft fell into itself, blocking its entrance with several large boulders.
The dwarven sentry, however, was not so lucky. He had moved towards the left side of the cave as soon as he had smelled the rotten odor. It stunk of decay and filth, and he had nearly vomited upon sensing it. How the virescent recruit had not reacted, much less noticed, what was going on around him was something he wasn’t going to concern himself with. He kept completely still, holding his dagger towards the entrance as he stared directly at the animal standing within it.
The animal was well over eight feet tall, towering above both intruders even from a distance. Its fur was as white as the snow outside the mine, but it was caked with several blemishes. Its long, bulky arms were covered in grime, and its elongated, knife-like claws were coated with red blood. Its feet were large and soaking wet, with matted and torn hair.
Its head, though, was where the black-bearded pygmy drew his eyes to. He trembled.
Its mouth was more than big enough to swallow someone like Danish whole; a long slit near the bottom of its head that formed a malicious and conniving smile. It's black nostrils were visible above its line of a mouth, mucus running down it and onto its upper lip. It’s eyes, the escort noticed, were pale, with no hint of pigmentation or anything that resembled a “human” eye. Surrounding its eyes were massive scars, all cutting deep into its head that reached to its thick, protruding ram horns. It stood within the room’s entrance, grunting and murmuring.
It’s a wampa, Danish thought, his heart pumping, Inanna… I beg for your blessing… I wash myself of my sins…
The wampa slowly tilted its head up, sniffing the air. Before long, it stopped, turning its head towards the dwarf before walking towards him. It moved slowly and methodically, with each step careful and calculative.
The sentry remained as still as a statue even as the wampa moved closer and closer to him, the creature only stopping to sniff the air another time. It did not seem to notice Ballad standing near the ore, seemingly far too focused on this new smell. This delicious new smell it had never experienced before in its days down under.
The gunsmith glanced towards the pygmy, seeing the wampa almost on top of him. He had noticed its eyes for a split second as it smelled the atmosphere around it, and he knew what it meant. Under normal circumstances, he would’ve acted.
But of course, SPB had to stop him. This wasn’t the time for acting under improvisation. No, this was a time for thinking. This moment could impact several others in the future, for better or worse. He had to be smart about it.
He realized he only had two options, neither of which he liked. The first was obvious: let the wampa have its lunch while he snuck off with the cobalt. Doing that, though, would cost him a wampa hide. Then there’d be the loss of a potential ally...
His second option was more risky. The second would be to save the stupid zealot’s life, albeit at the cost of him potentially getting killed by the hulking abominable snowman. He fought over these two options in his head, silently debating with the inner spirit inhabiting his form. He looked back over towards the wampa, seeing it standing directly in front of the dwarf, its claws gleaming. The dwarf was staring back at him, his eyes filled with fear. He seemed to be silently pleading for help as the wampa looked down towards his form. It sniffed the air once more, as if to confirm what it already knew. It began to growl, raising its bloodied paws.
Oh fuck it.
The virescent pickaxeman thrust the pickaxe down onto the cobalt ores, knocking off a chunk in one fell swoop.
This remarkable act, however, was cut short by a nightmarish roar.
------------------------------------
Ballad was hardly able to turn around before he felt a lumpy, hairy thing charge into him, smashing itself and him into the wall. He thrashed around in its grip, the hilt of his pickaxe between his head and the jaws of the creature. He kicked forward, his foot bouncing off of its midsection. He continued kicking, pushing the things head as far away from him as possible.
The wampa bellowed, wrapping its blood-spattered arm around the green intruder. It dug its claws into his flesh, piercing his back. The gunsmith howled, his hold on his melee weapon loosening as the wampa’s gaping maw drew closer to his skull.
With a piercing scream, Ballad slid out the pistol hidden in his left sleeve, pulling the trigger. The beast flew back, landing on its back a few feet away. The gunshot echoed around the cave.
Silence began to fill the room as the first tiny bits of rock fell from the ceiling.
----------------------
"WHAT AR’ YA STANDIN’ THER FOR?! RUN!” yelled the dwarf as he bolted out of the room.
The gunsmith snapped out of his shock, his eyes darting around the room. He quickly rationalized his action as that of desperation and of being left with no other choice. The thing was both taller and stronger than him. It made perfect logical sense to use something he knew worked against it.
But now wasn’t the time for reminiscing. He swiftly reached towards the cobalt chunk, picking it up before dashing out of the room. A split second before he did, he turned his head towards the wampa, seeing it begin to stand up.
An idea popped into his mind.
Stashing his spent .50 single shot back into his sleeve, he pulled out his revolver. As he ran out of the room, his aim slightly wobbly, he squeezed the trigger. The bullet flew into the room, lodging itself into the animal’s shoulder. The beast let out a thunderous, rage-filled howl, turning towards the entrance of the cave.
He smiled behind his crimson scarf as he raced down the hallway, revolver in one hand and pickaxe in the other. Before long, he had caught back up with the midget sentry, who was moving forward at about the speed of an oversized oxen with a limp. Sweat coursed down his forehead and into his beard, his breathing hoarse.
““What.. *huff*… took ya… *huff*… so long?” He said, reaching up to his silver blunderbuss. He brought it over his head, holding it close to him as they ran through the rapidly collapsing mine.
“I was merely contending with the carnivore,” the gunner replied, squinting as deafening booms echoed around the hallway, followed by a deep, resounding roar.
The duo looked behind them, seeing the massive creature barrelling down the hallway towards them. It was barely short enough to fit in the small tunnels, yet that seemed to be a minor inconvenience at best. Sparks flew off the walls as its claws sliced across them, all of it’s attention now on ending the duo’s lives.
“Ar’ ya friggin’ crazy, troll?! Ya expect us to outrun a collapsin’ cave and THAT THIN’?"
“Just focus on getting us out of here!” Ballad hollered, lifting his left arm into the air. He fired his gun two times, neither shots hitting. His back felt numb, his wounds throbbing with each movement he made.
Danish said nothing, though among the sounds of a rapidly approaching angry wampa and the cracking of wooden supports as the roof of the cavern started to cave in on them, the gunsmith swore he heard a chuckle erupt from his partner.
They ran, and continued running. Guided by the dwarf, they traversed the long tunnels full of minecarts and rails, passing through intersection and intersection. The pygmy had an almost uncanny sense of direction, making decisions of which way to go in times that outright stunned the inventor. The dwarf always had a calm look on his face, as if nothing was wrong. The gunner didn’t know what to make of this. Was this something unique to dwarves, or was this literally divine intervention at work before his very eyes?
He quickly ditched the idea of it being a holy work.
The walls of the mines slowly turned from moist, slick rock to icy and snow covered as the chase continued. The mist disappeared, but the darkness did not. The sharpshooter felt his legs begin to burn as he continued to follow the guide, his breathing increasing in repetition and harshness. Danish wasn’t faring much better, to the point where he eventually was forced to ditch his blunderbuss due to its weight. The wampa began to close in on them, hardly caring that everything behind it was caving in and devouring everything it might’ve held dear. It’s only focus was on the two loud noises that had disturbed its home, trashed it, and hurt it. They deserved every bit of pain it was going to give them.
Eventually, after what felt like hours, they saw a light. They sprinted at full speed towards it, the cavern crumbling all around them. Roars and growls grew louder and louder as they got closer and closer to it. Rocks rained down on them as the entrance to the cave became closer, exactly 20 feet away. Than 15. 10. 5.
They sprinted through the entrance to the mine, rolling down the hill as the top of the mine shaft fell into itself, blocking its entrance with several large boulders.
Quote:Quest: Into the Halls
Word Amount: 1642
Obtained Cobalt!
C&C Thread
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New to OV? Need a question answered? Want a C&C of your work? Send a PM to me!
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