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The tear of a fallen
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FurirMorot
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Joined: 01 Jan 2005
Posts: 68
Location: Lund

PostPosted: Sun Jul 24, 2005 1:01 pm    Post subject: The tear of a fallen Reply with quote

Ma'Reaka slowly rose up, gently arising from his hiding in the lush green. His dark eyes focused on his target, swiftly drawing his bow.
The stag started to scent in the air, realising, with almost magical skill all game posseses, that something wasn't right. But it was to late, and the arrow knocked it straight to the ground. Ma'Reaka waited the time it took to count to twenty, looking out for predators and worse, there had been a lot of worse lately, and then ran to the prey.
Mumbling under his breath, the wounds in his side still burned like Therak spit, even though they were weeks old. He needed a drink. Badly. But he was cought in this bloody forest, hunting for his bloody own bloody food, with this bloody, bloody bow, hurting his bloody back, with the bloody K'sara hurting his bloody hips, and it wasn't even his bloody own. Ma'Reaka hadn't lived like this since he left the bloody tribes. Bloody bloody blood. The swearing made him feel a bit better. Quite a lot better actually. He hated being here in the outback, living the life he had been exiled from. He wanted to back in the town with Siman friends, having a drink, kissing, a girl, bloody forgetting. You had to give it to the Simans, they were masters in forgetting. Instead, he was out here, hurt, hiding from Therak patrols, and reliving the life he'd lost.
As he reached the fallen animal, he heard a noice, a low hissing noice. And an all to familliar noice. Slowly, very slowly, he reached for his K'sara, ready, as always, to kill.


Last edited by FurirMorot on Fri Aug 26, 2005 1:20 am; edited 2 times in total
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FurirMorot
Posts until end: 940


Joined: 01 Jan 2005
Posts: 68
Location: Lund

PostPosted: Fri Aug 26, 2005 1:11 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Feel free to comment by the way=)
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FurirMorot
Posts until end: 940


Joined: 01 Jan 2005
Posts: 68
Location: Lund

PostPosted: Fri Aug 26, 2005 1:20 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Hiding in the dense vegetation, his mauve body, coverd in green painting, blending perfectly, Ma'Reaka studied the three Theraks. He had no illusions that it was coincidense that they were, he knew they were after him, and that they knew that Najo was near. He had come to fight all to many of their kind lately. What he didn't know of, was the third whiteskin standing behind him with a spear.
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FurirMorot
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Joined: 01 Jan 2005
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Location: Lund

PostPosted: Sun Aug 28, 2005 11:38 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

It it impossible to know what the attacker thought, as he thrusted the spear in the body of the Fallen. Was he aware that he was ambushing a legend, one of the greatest fighters ever alive? The hero of endless tales, Ma'Reaka Ke Mo'Reaka, the Fallen that Stands. Did he knew how many who had died trying to do what he did, as the dark enchanted spear, ripped through the purple body, cutting through armour and flesh, crushing bones, pouring out it's foul magic, in an unnatural wound. Did he even know that he would die?

For Ma'Reake, there was only pain. The impossible thought of his magic armour, being slashed, as it were made of cloth. It wasn't the worst stab he had been given through the years, yet he felt his strengh drain away, as he ripped his attackers head of. Screaming, the hero stood up, throwing himself upon the stunned enemies. But suddenly they weren't three, but five, no, ten, twenty, countless of white beasts hissing and screaming among the trees. Ma'Reaka fled, aware that this was his end. The dying warrior didn't know how many he had killed escaping, and he didn't hear the sounds of another battle arising behind him. He just felt as he hit the ground, cursing the name of Furir Morot and Laseral, who had brought this upon him.
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FurirMorot
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Location: Lund

PostPosted: Mon Aug 29, 2005 12:07 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ma'Reaka woke up, his head spliting, wondering if he was dead. After a quick look around, he let go of the thougt. Whatever the after life was like, he was ratter sure it wasn't a wealthy human home. The wooden walls, floors and roof, cried of humanity, the one of the races who totally lacked architectical ambtition. At least if you asked him. Even the bloody tents of his old home was better. Then he saw him, in the shadows of a corner. With his bloody smirk. It was bloody Furir Morot, a bloody unfortunate name, on a bloody unfortunate man. Furir noded to him, and raised his glass.
" Ah, I see that you have woken up?, How do feel?", the old friend asked him.
" Like hell. By the way, how did I end up here? The last I remember, I was dying."
" I can't say if you were actually dying," Morot replied," but you were bleeding a bit, and four foot spear stuck in you.., well let just say it didn't look healthy."
Seeing the cursed man smile again, the Najo realised how much he hated him. And that he actually liked him even more.
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FurirMorot
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PostPosted: Sat Jan 14, 2006 2:14 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Morot looked down in the pitcher. His joints ached, his old wounds and scars burning in the damp weather. He wasn't old, that old anyway, but his body was starting to get worn out. Taking a deep drink of the mead, he sighed. Everything were going wrong. There had allways been some Theraks in these forests, but these were soldiers. Damn it, why where they here! There hadn't been heavy fighting in these parts of Daria for generations. Theraks were supposed to fight in The Burning Forest, hundreds of miles from here, were the bloody tribal lords had armies waiting for them.
Know the only defence that was around here was a couple of battalions of Simans who, blessed be their souls, wasn't the greatest soldiers in the world. Great warriors, mind, but worthless soldiers. And of course it was the Regiment. And his dragoons. But he couldn't defend a country with less two thousand men. Why the hell were the Theraks moving against the Simans? They had never been bitter enemies. By the Lords, they almost killed Ma'Raeka. But why? Ma'Raeka had kept for himself the last years, almost making the Triad to the Duo. Anyway, one thing was clear. The Triad rode for war. But not tonight. Tonight it was getting drunk.
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FurirMorot
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PostPosted: Sat Jan 14, 2006 2:37 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ma'Reaka rose from the bed. The errand boy stood there, looking up to him with great eyes, probably scared by the fierce look of a Najo. He tried a smile to the young Siman, but the poor boy just yelped. Well, it couldn't be helped, he had always scared people. Grumbling, he went outside. A soft rain filled the night, as he entered out in Siman city. Longing for a smoke, another bad habit Morot had given him, he followed the boy to a winehouse. The boy pointed at the garden, then ran away before he got the chance to tip him.
The man sat under a tree, drinking what seemed to be mead. Ma'Reaka walked up to him, and sat down.
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FurirMorot
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PostPosted: Sun Jan 15, 2006 5:41 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Morot rose to shake his friends hand, before sitting down again. Then the questions began.
"Are you feeling better now friend?" Morot asked.
"Quite well, actually", the najo replied, "but you seem to be in a gloomy mood all of a sudden. No jokes, nothing about falling on toothpicks, bleeding like a purple pig, nothing bout najokebab?"
Ma'Reaka noticed a faint smile, and realised that the man allready was a bit drunk.
"Nah, you take care of that yourself, don't you?" came the answer. "But I need to ask you about some stuff. First of all, what happened in that forest. How did you end up there? We haven't heard from you for over a year, and then you end up next door to us, when we were hunting theraks."
"Well, hmm, where do you bloody beginn." the puple giant relaxed in his chair. "Get me some wine, bloody fine wine, and I'll tell you"
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fugean
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PostPosted: Thu Jan 19, 2006 9:17 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

good story Very Happy
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thewreck
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Joined: 29 Nov 2004
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PostPosted: Thu Jan 19, 2006 2:28 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

indeed good story, a few spelling mistakes here and there, but a nice still.
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