07-25-2017, 04:02 PM
(This post was last modified: 07-25-2017, 11:21 PM by DrinkToMeOnlyWithThineEyes.)
The Orc hunts were brutal, it did not help that the dwarven kingdom was in a snow-capped area which led to some of Erumollien's warriors to huddle up together. By the time they reached their encampments, the Elvenking's company was half-frozen.
Their hunt had lasted them two months and a week to finish, but the most perilous was their last.
They had snuck into an Orc camp, though Erumollien had noted that most of these are soldiers that he could easily be rid of. He waved his men away and ordered them to scout for the other camps and to dispose of the filth as soon as they see the Orc-bastards.
The decision of sending his men away proved to be a great mistake. He had managed to kill off most of the orcs in the camp when he met other leader, he was rammed against a tree with a rusted dagger pointed at his neck, the Elvenking only smiled before flicking his wrist and throwing his own dagger into the fell beast's leg, reaching up and taking the rusted blade, he tossed it away and ignored the stinging pain from where the blade from where he had been cut. Drawing out his sword, he was about to plunge the blade into the scum's chest when he suddenly felt a jolting pain enter his back, leaving him to let out a surprised gasp.
An arrow had been shot into his back, coated with poison, this put the Elvenking at a disadvantage and he cursed himself for that. Swiftly killing the Orc leader, he turned around to face an Orc holding a bow and arrow, a triumphant sneer on his face.
Already, he felt the fires of the poison running through him, but he pushed himself to run towards the bastard to sever its head from its body, spitting out a curse at it for the pain it had inflicted.
Surveying the Orc camp, he nodded to himself as he figured that he was done. He heard his company captain calling for him in the distance and he trudged toward their voices.
He ignored their shocked looks and he offered them a pained smile.
"Where to now, my lord?" His captain, Beleg, asked, his eyes reflecting worry, Erumollien whistled for his horse and mounted it, hissing in pain as he felt his wound open more.
"To home, Captain." Beleg nodded and blew on their horn, calling all members of the company to them.
They rode swiftly far into the night, Erumollien felt unconsciousness creeping up on him as he fought to stay on his horse. But that was not to be for he had fallen off his mount when they were a few miles from Firithdae. He felt his captain pulling him up and settling him in front of one of his soldiers before they continued their race back to the kingdom.
Beleg rushed through the open lands as swiftly as possible, his cloak flying through the wind as he rode hard. By the time their company had returned to the elven kingdom, Beleg let out a shout alerting the healers.
"The King is wounded! Call for the healers!"
Their hunt had lasted them two months and a week to finish, but the most perilous was their last.
They had snuck into an Orc camp, though Erumollien had noted that most of these are soldiers that he could easily be rid of. He waved his men away and ordered them to scout for the other camps and to dispose of the filth as soon as they see the Orc-bastards.
The decision of sending his men away proved to be a great mistake. He had managed to kill off most of the orcs in the camp when he met other leader, he was rammed against a tree with a rusted dagger pointed at his neck, the Elvenking only smiled before flicking his wrist and throwing his own dagger into the fell beast's leg, reaching up and taking the rusted blade, he tossed it away and ignored the stinging pain from where the blade from where he had been cut. Drawing out his sword, he was about to plunge the blade into the scum's chest when he suddenly felt a jolting pain enter his back, leaving him to let out a surprised gasp.
An arrow had been shot into his back, coated with poison, this put the Elvenking at a disadvantage and he cursed himself for that. Swiftly killing the Orc leader, he turned around to face an Orc holding a bow and arrow, a triumphant sneer on his face.
Already, he felt the fires of the poison running through him, but he pushed himself to run towards the bastard to sever its head from its body, spitting out a curse at it for the pain it had inflicted.
Surveying the Orc camp, he nodded to himself as he figured that he was done. He heard his company captain calling for him in the distance and he trudged toward their voices.
He ignored their shocked looks and he offered them a pained smile.
"Where to now, my lord?" His captain, Beleg, asked, his eyes reflecting worry, Erumollien whistled for his horse and mounted it, hissing in pain as he felt his wound open more.
"To home, Captain." Beleg nodded and blew on their horn, calling all members of the company to them.
They rode swiftly far into the night, Erumollien felt unconsciousness creeping up on him as he fought to stay on his horse. But that was not to be for he had fallen off his mount when they were a few miles from Firithdae. He felt his captain pulling him up and settling him in front of one of his soldiers before they continued their race back to the kingdom.
Beleg rushed through the open lands as swiftly as possible, his cloak flying through the wind as he rode hard. By the time their company had returned to the elven kingdom, Beleg let out a shout alerting the healers.
"The King is wounded! Call for the healers!"