Tarkor
07-20-2006, 10:58 PM
At last... it was done...
The chieftan of the Sandfury... the opponent that Tarkor made his personal objective to destroy, was defeated. Looking down at the broken troll at his feet, Tarkor glared through the coating of sand around his face.. his armor growing heavy under the hot sun. His fury was subsiding... and feeling was beginning to return to him.
As it did, Tarkor slumped into the hot sands, pain echoing through his right arm, and his armor wearing down on his shoulders. Heavy beads of sweat glisted in the desert sun as it beat down on Tarkor's dark brown hair and overwhelmed his deep red eyes. For the weeks he had spent in this desert, he never really go used to it...
As Tarkor lifted his right arm to cover his eyes from the sun, he noticed a deep coat of red soaking into his arm. Tracing it back to his shoulder, he discovered the source of his pain... There, where his shoulder met his breast, was a gash of crimson pouring out blood over his right side. Although it was hard to see upon his red-tinted chestplate, the bright sun allowed a heavy contrast between Tarkor's natural hair and blood soaked flesh.
Though he had been wounded many times before, this would was different... During his battle, he was not struck by his opponent's blade in the shoulder... Tarkor's eyes widened as the truth hit him. He was never struck... but he did remember the blade of the axe ripping across his flesh. It was an attack much like the one Tarkor used to rend flesh from an enemy, but the axe's attack ripped into him on it's own, with no difference from another attack; which is why he had not noticed it before.
Tarkor snorted to himself as he glanced back down at the broken troll. In the former chieftan's hand was the axe that had wounded him. Examining the blade of the axe, Tarkor saw that the blade was jagged, with smaller "teeth" of metal all along the blade.
Ripping the axe from the grip of the dead troll, Tarkor looked at the blade closer, only to discover a set of chaotic runes carved into the shaft of the axe.
"Ripsaw..."
After a quick moment of pondering, Tarkor tossed his mithril axe to the sands and held his new blade up to the sun in victory.
As he did, Tarkor roared triumphantly over the broken corpse of the Sandfury chieftan, the cry echoing thoughout the city of Zul'farrak, and seeping out into the vast deserts of Tanaris...
The chieftan of the Sandfury... the opponent that Tarkor made his personal objective to destroy, was defeated. Looking down at the broken troll at his feet, Tarkor glared through the coating of sand around his face.. his armor growing heavy under the hot sun. His fury was subsiding... and feeling was beginning to return to him.
As it did, Tarkor slumped into the hot sands, pain echoing through his right arm, and his armor wearing down on his shoulders. Heavy beads of sweat glisted in the desert sun as it beat down on Tarkor's dark brown hair and overwhelmed his deep red eyes. For the weeks he had spent in this desert, he never really go used to it...
As Tarkor lifted his right arm to cover his eyes from the sun, he noticed a deep coat of red soaking into his arm. Tracing it back to his shoulder, he discovered the source of his pain... There, where his shoulder met his breast, was a gash of crimson pouring out blood over his right side. Although it was hard to see upon his red-tinted chestplate, the bright sun allowed a heavy contrast between Tarkor's natural hair and blood soaked flesh.
Though he had been wounded many times before, this would was different... During his battle, he was not struck by his opponent's blade in the shoulder... Tarkor's eyes widened as the truth hit him. He was never struck... but he did remember the blade of the axe ripping across his flesh. It was an attack much like the one Tarkor used to rend flesh from an enemy, but the axe's attack ripped into him on it's own, with no difference from another attack; which is why he had not noticed it before.
Tarkor snorted to himself as he glanced back down at the broken troll. In the former chieftan's hand was the axe that had wounded him. Examining the blade of the axe, Tarkor saw that the blade was jagged, with smaller "teeth" of metal all along the blade.
Ripping the axe from the grip of the dead troll, Tarkor looked at the blade closer, only to discover a set of chaotic runes carved into the shaft of the axe.
"Ripsaw..."
After a quick moment of pondering, Tarkor tossed his mithril axe to the sands and held his new blade up to the sun in victory.
As he did, Tarkor roared triumphantly over the broken corpse of the Sandfury chieftan, the cry echoing thoughout the city of Zul'farrak, and seeping out into the vast deserts of Tanaris...