X
Xindaris
Guest
Original poster
Razorin was pondering.
It wasn't normal for him to think too deeply into something; he certainly could, but delving too deeply into thought always put one in danger. Especially these days. Nonetheless, he had taken shelter inside a cave, blocking it off with a giant rock for as peaceful a night's sleep as he could manage, and on waking up to a few cracks of light slipping around the stone he couldn't help but take advantage of the moment of solitude to think a little bit.
He had stopped counting the months since his people were destroyed. He had stopped thinking about them almost entirely. Instead, he had spent years trying to think of everyone else that he possibly could, every nation great and small that was to be ravaged by the same beasts. What he had been trying to bring forth was hopeless now, it seemed; no nations were truly left, if you didn't count the larger refugee camps protected by various gods. Speaking of which, he could retreat into the caves guarded by Luna, provided he could find them. He could, but he wasn't going to. He didn't belong cooped up in a cave, cowering in fear of the enemy.
It didn't matter to him how many or how tough they were. He wanted to tear apart every dark one he found with his bare hands; it motivated him to think that each one destroyed would be another person that one wouldn't kill, one less than an overwhelming group, enabling the unknown benefactor to just barely survive, and defeat all that he met, saving another for each. It was a somewhat foolish notion: The dark ones' numbers were immeasurable, for just counting one for each person they had consumed would be more than double the amount of survivors.
It was a dream he was chasing, just like the last one and the one before that, and he would see it through until it failed, or something better came along. That was all he knew how to do, really. But as he pondered, he thought on rumors he had heard from the few people he had met in the past few months. They told of a man in white who seemed to know the weaknesses of the dark ones, who wanted to gather not just a few people or the faithful followers of one particular god, but everyone--every survivor--to one place. It sounded good, but at the same time, it sounded like a trap to Razorin's war-trained logic. He would have to meet the man, and know just how he planned to prevent the destruction of his glorious new, unfinished city at the hands of millions of enemies that seemed built for just such a raid.
Razorin shook his head. That was about all there was to it; he would keep up his present work and see what came about. Right now, his work was to remove the boulder and confront whatever enemies had likely sniffed him out overnight. He made sure to pull the stone, rather than push it and allow himself into the line of sight for anything directly outside, and when there was enough room for him he ran outside, smacking three or four bodies out of his way without even seeing them before turning around and looking.
There were at least ten, all formerly humans, elves or something similar. They had elongated fingers and toes, the extra inches mostly composed of near-metallic claws, and their eyes were a near-rainbow of colors, their glow visible even in the sunlight. They had been waiting at the entrance, as he thought, all clumped together, and now some were circling, trying to surround him.
Razorin backed up, forcing the circle to move with him, and then suddenly ran forward, grabbing one by the neck and smashing it into another; both seemed merely stunned by the gesture and he had to turn around to bat three or four other attackers away, leaving several scratches across his arm; the toughness of his skin kept them shallow but his arm was going to be sore for awhile. He punched another in the top of its head before it could get close enough to bite his leg, and kicked away another on the opposite side.
The werewolf exhaled slowly, closing his eyes and listening. Just looking ahead would do no good now, they were on all sides and behind him. They were just walking around him now, their first attack done; the next would be in a few more seconds, by his count, and he took the opportunity to shift to his more bestial form, then waited. They would attack whenever they thought he wasn't ready...
((OOC Here))
It wasn't normal for him to think too deeply into something; he certainly could, but delving too deeply into thought always put one in danger. Especially these days. Nonetheless, he had taken shelter inside a cave, blocking it off with a giant rock for as peaceful a night's sleep as he could manage, and on waking up to a few cracks of light slipping around the stone he couldn't help but take advantage of the moment of solitude to think a little bit.
He had stopped counting the months since his people were destroyed. He had stopped thinking about them almost entirely. Instead, he had spent years trying to think of everyone else that he possibly could, every nation great and small that was to be ravaged by the same beasts. What he had been trying to bring forth was hopeless now, it seemed; no nations were truly left, if you didn't count the larger refugee camps protected by various gods. Speaking of which, he could retreat into the caves guarded by Luna, provided he could find them. He could, but he wasn't going to. He didn't belong cooped up in a cave, cowering in fear of the enemy.
It didn't matter to him how many or how tough they were. He wanted to tear apart every dark one he found with his bare hands; it motivated him to think that each one destroyed would be another person that one wouldn't kill, one less than an overwhelming group, enabling the unknown benefactor to just barely survive, and defeat all that he met, saving another for each. It was a somewhat foolish notion: The dark ones' numbers were immeasurable, for just counting one for each person they had consumed would be more than double the amount of survivors.
It was a dream he was chasing, just like the last one and the one before that, and he would see it through until it failed, or something better came along. That was all he knew how to do, really. But as he pondered, he thought on rumors he had heard from the few people he had met in the past few months. They told of a man in white who seemed to know the weaknesses of the dark ones, who wanted to gather not just a few people or the faithful followers of one particular god, but everyone--every survivor--to one place. It sounded good, but at the same time, it sounded like a trap to Razorin's war-trained logic. He would have to meet the man, and know just how he planned to prevent the destruction of his glorious new, unfinished city at the hands of millions of enemies that seemed built for just such a raid.
Razorin shook his head. That was about all there was to it; he would keep up his present work and see what came about. Right now, his work was to remove the boulder and confront whatever enemies had likely sniffed him out overnight. He made sure to pull the stone, rather than push it and allow himself into the line of sight for anything directly outside, and when there was enough room for him he ran outside, smacking three or four bodies out of his way without even seeing them before turning around and looking.
There were at least ten, all formerly humans, elves or something similar. They had elongated fingers and toes, the extra inches mostly composed of near-metallic claws, and their eyes were a near-rainbow of colors, their glow visible even in the sunlight. They had been waiting at the entrance, as he thought, all clumped together, and now some were circling, trying to surround him.
Razorin backed up, forcing the circle to move with him, and then suddenly ran forward, grabbing one by the neck and smashing it into another; both seemed merely stunned by the gesture and he had to turn around to bat three or four other attackers away, leaving several scratches across his arm; the toughness of his skin kept them shallow but his arm was going to be sore for awhile. He punched another in the top of its head before it could get close enough to bite his leg, and kicked away another on the opposite side.
The werewolf exhaled slowly, closing his eyes and listening. Just looking ahead would do no good now, they were on all sides and behind him. They were just walking around him now, their first attack done; the next would be in a few more seconds, by his count, and he took the opportunity to shift to his more bestial form, then waited. They would attack whenever they thought he wasn't ready...
((OOC Here))
