Tyloric
Illogical Process of Elimination
- Joined
- Oct 23, 2008
- Messages
- 2,865
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The Dying Hour
Never thought that this would be the way I would die. I always thought some asshole assassin would get me while I was sticking to some cheap whore in Bloodstone. Or maybe I’d just drink myself to death; that wouldn’t be a horrible way to meet my maker.
Never thought it would be down here, literally being hunted by some god damned Balverines. Ticks me off.
A piercing roar cut through the darkness of the stone shaft, making my ears ring, “Yeah yeah, you cheeky arse.” My throat barks out, but it comes out scratchy and uneven, like one of them clawed through my vocal cords.
I stumbled through the corridor, looking, hoping for a way out. But I’m a realistic man; there is no way out, not within my reach anyway. The bite on my chest would do one of two things to me first; I’ll die or I’ll turn into one of these wankers. Neither option really suits me all that well, but if I had to choose I’d rather die.
Another roar greets my ears, louder, closer this time. They must have caught my scent. Again. Persistent arses.
I’d started using my long sword as a walking stick, stabbing it in between the cracked ruins of the stone walkway. My legs had no more strength in them. I didn’t know if that had to do with the loss of blood or the Change happening; either way, walking was proving difficult. Seeing straight took a bit of effort as well.
Damn, dying is really uncomfortable. Unable to stand anymore, I collapse hard against the floor. My lungs are starting to wheeze, making each breath strained.
Rolling over on my back, I scoot towards the stone wall, positioning myself to sit up against it. My head and limbs feel extraordinarily heavy now, like strength being sapped from me. Coughing, I feel blood spurt out of my mouth, landing on the exposed skin of my right calf.
I let out a morbid chuckle; no hope now. It was so absurd it was laughable.
I slowly reached over to my left side, retrieving my pistol from my holster. It felt like it weighs 100 pounds.
Another roar, sounds like it’s right around the corner. I let out a grim smile. Come and get me you mongrels, I thought bitterly.
I can hear their frantic steps now, snarling and woofing to get to their next meal.
And so I am met with a choice: kill myself or let them do the job. The prospect of being eaten alive holds no real interest to me, so finishing myself off seems like a bit of a better decision.
I slowly lift the gun to my temple, hesitating.
A snarl reaches my ear as if it’s right next to me. Turning, I see it son of a bitch towering over me; eight feet tall, mouth pulled back, exposing of it fangs. It’s bent over in a crouch, seemingly preparing to pounce.
Strangely, I wasn’t scared. I didn’t hate this thing either; he (or she?) was just another poor son of a bitch who had been unfortunate enough to survive their bite. You can’t hate them for that, they probably hate themselves enough if anything of their minds survived the Change.
Another appears behind it, brown furred and a bit shorter. What were they waiting for?
Realization struck me like a ton of bricks; they wanted me to Change. That’s what they were waiting for. Suddenly it wasn’t so hard to hate them, if not just resent them a bit.
I pressed the pistol closer my temple, forming my mouth into a snarl of my own, “I’ll see you all in hell,” I groaned.
My fingered tightened around the trigger and instantly they Silver Balverine launched towards me like a speeding bullet.
Crack!
____________________________
A few notes:
The original document had a bit of cursing. I censored it, but if I missed anything please point it out.
This was written in about 20 minutes, so it's not the best of work. Just a drabble because I was bored.
Never thought that this would be the way I would die. I always thought some asshole assassin would get me while I was sticking to some cheap whore in Bloodstone. Or maybe I’d just drink myself to death; that wouldn’t be a horrible way to meet my maker.
Never thought it would be down here, literally being hunted by some god damned Balverines. Ticks me off.
A piercing roar cut through the darkness of the stone shaft, making my ears ring, “Yeah yeah, you cheeky arse.” My throat barks out, but it comes out scratchy and uneven, like one of them clawed through my vocal cords.
I stumbled through the corridor, looking, hoping for a way out. But I’m a realistic man; there is no way out, not within my reach anyway. The bite on my chest would do one of two things to me first; I’ll die or I’ll turn into one of these wankers. Neither option really suits me all that well, but if I had to choose I’d rather die.
Another roar greets my ears, louder, closer this time. They must have caught my scent. Again. Persistent arses.
I’d started using my long sword as a walking stick, stabbing it in between the cracked ruins of the stone walkway. My legs had no more strength in them. I didn’t know if that had to do with the loss of blood or the Change happening; either way, walking was proving difficult. Seeing straight took a bit of effort as well.
Damn, dying is really uncomfortable. Unable to stand anymore, I collapse hard against the floor. My lungs are starting to wheeze, making each breath strained.
Rolling over on my back, I scoot towards the stone wall, positioning myself to sit up against it. My head and limbs feel extraordinarily heavy now, like strength being sapped from me. Coughing, I feel blood spurt out of my mouth, landing on the exposed skin of my right calf.
I let out a morbid chuckle; no hope now. It was so absurd it was laughable.
I slowly reached over to my left side, retrieving my pistol from my holster. It felt like it weighs 100 pounds.
Another roar, sounds like it’s right around the corner. I let out a grim smile. Come and get me you mongrels, I thought bitterly.
I can hear their frantic steps now, snarling and woofing to get to their next meal.
And so I am met with a choice: kill myself or let them do the job. The prospect of being eaten alive holds no real interest to me, so finishing myself off seems like a bit of a better decision.
I slowly lift the gun to my temple, hesitating.
A snarl reaches my ear as if it’s right next to me. Turning, I see it son of a bitch towering over me; eight feet tall, mouth pulled back, exposing of it fangs. It’s bent over in a crouch, seemingly preparing to pounce.
Strangely, I wasn’t scared. I didn’t hate this thing either; he (or she?) was just another poor son of a bitch who had been unfortunate enough to survive their bite. You can’t hate them for that, they probably hate themselves enough if anything of their minds survived the Change.
Another appears behind it, brown furred and a bit shorter. What were they waiting for?
Realization struck me like a ton of bricks; they wanted me to Change. That’s what they were waiting for. Suddenly it wasn’t so hard to hate them, if not just resent them a bit.
I pressed the pistol closer my temple, forming my mouth into a snarl of my own, “I’ll see you all in hell,” I groaned.
My fingered tightened around the trigger and instantly they Silver Balverine launched towards me like a speeding bullet.
Crack!
____________________________
A few notes:
The original document had a bit of cursing. I censored it, but if I missed anything please point it out.
This was written in about 20 minutes, so it's not the best of work. Just a drabble because I was bored.