NiggaJack

He took two steps before the pain in his leg threatened to rob him of his breath again, so he paused for only a moment to reach down and tear the steel-headed arrow from his flesh. For a splint second, the pain almost brought him down, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself to sprint, trusting only to the winding path to avoid another arrow aimed for his back. Think quickly and clearly, a voice in his mind was telling him. Through the pain, a voice was rising from his past, as it had since he had entered the forest, though he had never acknowledged it before. He did not want to admit it was not his own words giving him advice. Think as

That should have been a good idea, he told himself, unable to keep the sharpness out of his thoughts. The sharpness was understandable, considering he was busy dodging arrows and running for his life. He had stood on the path with his sword drawn for a full minute waiting for the elf to catch up to him. Instead of an elf with a sword, he found himself dealing with whizzing arrows and another flight through the paths of Transcen Forest. It grated on him to be running so much, but the reality of his situation forced a certain amount of pride-swallowing. If I ever get my hands on that elf, I’ll swallow him whole, he though viciously when an

Fleck heard those words, heard his doom, and his head slumped in immediate response. A sadness touched him, but only distantly, as if there was a vast separation between his own conscious and the things he was feeling. From that distance it was startlingly clear that this was best thing that could have happened to him. With Darrick gone, he had no family left, and no place to go. He had nothing waiting for him, no reason to breathe. He made his realizations quickly, and his head only drooped a moment before it rose again, steady with the weight of resignation and the absence of fear and sadness. He met the gaze of the tall man in front of him

To Fleck, it was very difficult to stare at the body. It looked wane and very pale in the light that filtered through the trees, and it seemed to Fleck that the hair was not the same burning red it had been during Darrick’s passionate life. Despite all the changes, it was clear the body had belonged to his friend, though for some reason Fleck could not address, he did not want to think of it like that. He stopped weeping after a while, and as his eyes cleared he realized how truly alone he was. His friend, the entire reason he was in the forest to begin with, was dead below, and his killer had left, unaware of Fleck’s presence above

 For perhaps the hundredth time, Fleck reflected on how apt it was to call Darrick ‘touched by fire.’  His friend was a wild, laughing spirit with bright red hair and an ever present devilish grin. It was tense situations like these that Darrick lived for, and his laughter, trumpeting out at the sight of his prey on the run, was a testament to the fact that Darrick was in his element right then. “Watch this,” Darrick told him boldly, taking aim with his bow once again. The figure below them was sprinting at full speed, a speed noticeably faster than anyone Fleck had ever encountered, and the path was a winding

 It was dawn when Allyn reached the forest, and like all those who had come before him, he stopped at its edge to gaze at the height of the trees looming in front of him. In front of him, his dreams seemed to blend with the mystique of the wood, to make something beyond the depth of his own desire. Words of doom and darkness had always been used to describe the woods of Transcen, but those words had always been applied by humans. Elves rarely came this far south, and Allyn had never before met another elf that had traveled to Transcen forest. There was rarely a reason to go to Transcen forest. Allyn took a deep breath before he stepped in

 He stood on the highest rampart of the citadel, with his hair plastered against his face. It covered his eyes almost completely, but there was enough room for him to see the storm that was buffeting the city of Tricial. He was stone still, though the wind whipped at him ferociously, and might have challenged his perch on the precipice of the citadel, had he not been in full battle armor. He wore the same armor he had been knighted in, with all of it’s ornate designs crafted by a master smith. People said he went to battle with the face of a queen on his chest. Behind him was an open window, and lives laying in ruin. He would never know

Lancelot’s eyes were red and burning from reading by candlelight for so long. But this was important work and he would have to face Arthur on the morrow with what he had done this night. He still hadn’t learned anything useful though. Events were picking up pace in the West, and at the rate they were moving, it was clear that Arthur’s Kingdom would be affected quickly. The Knights were ready to move, of course, but Lancelot was determined to figure out what they would be facing when they were forced to move. Despite his determination, he could not seem to wring any sense from the reports he was seeing in front of him. The numbe

The bouncing of his horse kept Black from letting his mind wander too freely as he rode. He felt he should be on alert, being in enemy territory, but he found it hard to think in that manner. The Harish people he had met thus far had been nothing less than polite, and he had a hard time thinking of them as foes. Still, anyone could be a foe out in the open country, where nothing but bandits and outlaws ruled. Vint had the lead, which made a little bit of sense, with Hunter having mastered the art of sleeping in the saddle. Pike brought up the rear, though he mostly called forward with word of his aching muscles from their labors in the Har