Ashenvale Hunt
A tale set in Azeroth, where the Noble Alliance and the Proud Horde do battle for land and honour. Maledon is a Tauren - read, big cow. He's cool though... got big horns 'n shit. A little context... erm... he's a hunter, in the forst of ashenvale. He sees these elves and starts totally rippin into em. Why? What do you mean why?! Look, he's a massive cow with an axe and a bow. If he wants to mess some elves up, thats his business. It's not supposed to be deep, but fun!
Maledon heard voices on the road ahead, and stopped dead in his tracks. The Tauren snorted and tilted his massive head, so as to hear the sounds better among the ambient creaking of the Ashenvale forest. High voices. Elven voices. He turned slowly on the spot a couple of times, considering his surroundings. With a satisfied grunt, he hoisted his bow further up onto his shoulder, and trotted up to a small mound. A low cliff wall rose behind it, offering protection to his back. His hooves dug into the soft slope of the mound; the forest floor was thick with leaves. He positioned himself amongst the foliage atop the mound, and drew his bow from his shoulder. He crouched down in an effort to make himself smaller, shifting the sword and short axe on his belt as he did so. And he waited.
Moments later, two tall elves emerged on the road below him. One, a female, spoke animatedly on some subject. The other, a wiry male, walked with a sullen grimace on his face. Maledon lowered his bow. The fickle conflicts between the Horde and the Alliance had never much interested him. These Night Elves were decent creatures, more often than not. On many an evening, he had sat beside a fire, exchanging old war stories with their druids and their priests. They had an understanding of the natural order of things. That was enough for Maledon: he would let them go about their business.
He was about to relax when a new, rougher voice was raised. Walking some distance behind the Elves, a dwarf came into view, and suddenly raised his voice in anger. Just behind the dwarf walked a human, clad in shining armour. Maledon snorted; how anyone could live in the Ashenvale forest covered in that much metal was beyond him. Another vain human fool. And the dwarf, he looked like trouble. The newcomers cast the group in a different light; he didn't trust the presence of the human, or the aggressive manner of the dwarf. Whatever schemes these alliance were up to, Maledon would have no part of it. Not in his woods. He closed his eyes and felt along his spiritual bond, to find his companion happily gorging itself on a dear. With a pulse of thought, the beast was summoned. Maledon opened his eyes and rose to his haunches – it was time. Elves or no, he recognised a raiding party when he saw it.
Slowly, quietly, he pulled a number of arrows from the quiver over his shoulder and stood them in the ground. Each time he pushed the sharpened heads into the earth, he traced his thick fingers back up the shaft to brush the feathered ends. He repeated this little ritual with four sharp arrows, then drew another arrow from the back of his quiver. This one was not sharp – instead, the end was flat and heavy. Designed to stun, rather than kill outright. With a grunt, he drove this one into the earth too. He stood now, shaking his head and feeling his heavy braids uncoil and fall down his chest. He drew another arrow, put it to his bow, and took aim.
The shaft fizzed through the air, snapping past a couple of low branches, upsetting splashes of water as it went. But it flew true, and struck the lead elf in the stomach. He cried out in pain and fell to his knees, the small group looking at him in shock. Before they could react, another shaft flew through the air, catching the elf square in the chest. The impact violently threw him backward, and he lay prone and still on the floor. Birds flew from trees nearby, startled by his cry, causing a racket of beating wings and squawking.
The group were quicker than he had anticipated. Maledon drew a third arrow from the earth, but was discovered before he could draw back the bowstring. The human cried out and drew a large sword, the dwarf threw down his pack and raised a battered rifle. Maledon fired at the dwarf quickly, but missed his mark in haste. Cursing, he ducked back down into the undergrowth, as a loud crack announced that the dwarf had already loaded his rifle. The fool, Maledon thought, carrying his rifle loaded. The bullet hissed through the air, snapping branches and disturbing leaves as it went. The Tauren grabbed at the heavy arrow and rose quickly, notching it to the bowstring. The human was charging towards him, sword raised. Maledon took quick aim, and the heavy arrow struck the human in the throat. He tumbled to the ground with a cry. As Maledon drew another arrow, the human dragging himself onto his knees – his head hanging low, coughing. With a satisfied snort, Maledon observed that the paladin would be out of action for some time. There was another crack of a rifle, this time followed by a dwarfish curse. Maledon smiled as he heard the bullet lance through the foliage away from him. Another rifleman unworthy of the name.
As Maledon sought the target for his next arrow, the dwarf quickly reloaded his rifle. There was a commotion from the undergrowth behind, and the little fellow looked over his shoulder. A large black worg burst out onto the road, leaping on the dwarf, and they went rolling off the track; the worg growling and snapping its jaws, the dwarf cursing and screaming. Maledon praised the creatures' timing, and turned his aim to the second elf – but she was no longer on the path. He lowered the bow, puzzled, as he looked over the figures on the road. Only one elf...
Without warning, Maledon felt the air behind him stir. He sidestepped quickly as a dagger swiped through the air. He swung out at the hidden attacker with his bow arm, turning his weight into the swing. As he did so, he moved his other hand to his belt, taking hold of his hand axe. The attacker was swift, and danced away from the powerful swing. Maledon snorted and threw down his bow, shifting his feet to gain better balance. He drew his axe and swung it wildly at the elf, but she only danced aside, spun, and gave a swift kick to Maledon's leg. It gave way beneath him and he gave a startled cry, falling to one knee. From behind him, he heard a warcry and the pounding of feet on the ground. That damned paladin had recovered quickly. The elf looked over Maldeon's shoulder and smiled, drawing a long blade from a sheath.
With a roar, Maledon rose from his knees and spun around to face the attacker running up the slope. As he spun, he hurled his the axe with all his might, and it flew through the air loaded with momentum. It struck the armoured human on the shoulder with tremendous force; lifting him off his feet and sending him spinning to the ground. Maledon pivoted on his feet to face the elf once more, drawing his own sword from his belt. He raised it with both hands to his shoulder, the blade stading vertically in the air. He returned the elf's smile, hunching his shoulders and preparing himself.
The elf charged towards him, glinting steel in both hands. She covered the distance between them in no time at all, but Maledon was ready. He stepped towards her, twisting slightly so that his shoulder caught her chest. She gave a gasp and fell to the floor, winded. These elves were tricky, but couldn't stand up to many big hits. He brought the sword down on her, but she found a breath from somewhere and rolled away. She leapt to her feet and jumped at Maledon as he turned to face her. This time she was too quick, and the dagger stabbed quickly into his side. With a roar Maledon threw out an arm, catching her square across the face. She fell backwards and hit the ground rolling, up on her feet in a heartbeat. Maledon growled, rubbing one hand across the shallow gash on his side. His hide was good Mulgore stock, too thick for a dagger to do much harm.
He moved toward the elf, swinging his blade. She dodged the first swing, but fell back, on the defensive now. The Tauren swung again, striding forward as he did so. She danced around the swing again, and hurriedly parried the counter swing. He face became graver as she realised her jeopardy. Maledon brought his blade around once more, attacking the elf in great sweeping strokes. She side stepped one, and attempted to parry the second off balance. Though she got her sword up in time, the back handed stroke was too strong. Maledon's forced the elf's out of the way, and found the soft flesh of her stomach. She fell to the ground slowly.
The fight had carried Maledon away from the slope of the mound, and he trotted back there. He sensed the distress of his Worg companion, left to tackle the dwarf alone. He was tiring now, and unable to put up a fight for long. Maledon hurried to his rescue, almost running into the human's blade as he did so. He spun away from the attack, with a great snort, and lashed out his own blade toward the attacker. It was a weak swing though, easily turned away by the human. Maledon was worried about his companion, and had no time for a lengthy battle. He roared and hurled himself toward the human, who was caught off guard by the sudden charge. Tauren and human fell to the earth. They rolled across the ground once, and Maledon picked himself up, lashing out with a hoof as he did so. The human lay stunned for a moment, and Maledon drew a short dagger. He forced it through the unprotected flesh of the human's throat, and drew it out again, wiping the blade on the grass. He got to his feet and ran on toward the battle on the road. He seemed to have lost all his weapons in the fight, so he stooped to pick up his bow as he ran.
He shuffled down the slope, kicking up leaves as he went. On the clear road, his worg stood barking at the dwarf. Blood ran down its flank, and the poor creature looked tired. The Dwarf seemed a worse state though – his coat ripped and torn, with blood seeping out of the fabric. It waved an axe at the wolf, keeping it at bay. Both combatants wobbled on their feet, both unwilling to make a final push. Maledon reach over his shoulder to his quiver. Most of the arrows had fallen out in the fighting above. He drew one arrow, only to find it split down the shaft. Cursing, he cast it away and reached into his quiver once more. He put the arrow to the bow, and took careful aim. The ash of the bow creaked slightly as it was pulled taught, and Maledon felt the tension on the bow string, and his muscles. He released the string and the arrow flew, striking the dwarf in the throat. He feel to his knees, gasping for air, his hands feebly trying to loosen the shaft. Death came over him with a sigh of breath, and a celebratory howl from the worg.