|May 14th, 2005, 02:58 AM||#1|
Join Date: Sep 2004
The Mission (a short story)
I was bored today so I decided to write a short story starring the one and only Vanand(I'm sure more than a few of ya have run into me ingame). Its about a page or two long. Its titled "The Mission."
Vanand stood on the hill over looking the Stunning Stavons’ camp. The Karavan agent had been very specific. “Clear the camp of all the bandits, but pay close attention to the leader. He must not escape, if he goes down the organization will not have a chance to reform. Do this and I shall be grateful. Serve Jena and the Karavan well young one,” he said in his electronic voice, at least she though it was a he. Vanand loosened her short sword and dagger in their sheaths before unsheathing her fyros style two-hand sword. The flames, that covered the blade, flared briefly before settling into their usual low burn. She hoped none of the bandits noticed the thin trail of smoke that floated off the tip. Stealth was not a trait the fyros seemed to possess, she mused to herself.
Two armed sentries patrolled the only entrance into the camp. They both had rifles but seemed ill prepared to use them. They spent more time fire shots at the scavengers that attempted to pick bits from the carcass of the clopper that had strayed too near the camp. Vanand slipped a few dapper from the pouch at her side as she crystallized a stun spell, using the sap of the dappers as a container for the energy of the spell. She slipped the ovoid crystal in a hollow in the pommel of her sword. It flared before melting into the sword, the energy of the spell dispersing into the sword where it could be summoned later. She slipped the fyrosian helmet on and gripped her sword tight, it was time.
Vanand easily vaulted the outer wall, landing light, her sword at the ready. The sentries had noticed her.
“No concept of stealth,” she muttered quietly, as she neared the sentry.
She tapped the hilt of her sword on his shoulder. As her turned she placed the palm of her hand on the center of his chest, releasing the latent spell she had stored in her sword. He stood there unable to move his body but his eyes still following her movements. She drew her dagger; the unending drops of fluorescent green poison had stained the blade green. She quickly slit his throat; even if the wound wasn’t fatal it wouldn’t be long before the poison took its course. She hefted the dead sentry’s rifle, not her favorite weapon but she had some skill with it. She sighted down the barrel. The first shot grazed his cheek, taking a chunk of his ear with it. The second shot hit him in the throat shredding his larynx and severing his spine. He fell and convulsed a few times before settling into the most painful pose Van had ever seen.
“That looks painful,” she chuckled. “Van 2, Bandits none…” She stifled a louder laugh. “It would be a shame to waste the surprise now...”
She headed to the center pavilion. “This is where the Karavan said he would be,” she said noticing a well decorated building with a single guard. “This must be the place.”
Vanand felt a stab of pain as something slammed into her armor, she looked up noticing the guarded now had a pistol in hand as was firing at her. She sprinted off to her left, trying to present the guard with a moving target. She knew her element of surprise was blown now. A few more bullets skipped off her armor. She skidded to a stop about twelve meters from the shooter. As she looked up her helmet exploded inward, sending jagged shards of armor plate into her flesh. A second bullet slammed into her chest splitting the armor plates and piercing her lung. She wheezed as she doubled over in pain. She coughed into her helmet, warm blood obscuring her vision, her blood.
“Just need to focus,” she muttered.
The smaller of the two fyros, the guard, closed in on her. She clenched her fist. What was it her teacher had always told her?
“In every homin lies energy, an energy that can be used to protect and to heal. It can be used to form an impenetrable wall or to speed your fist and strengthen your sword arm. You just need to learn to harness it. Now focus. Can you feel the energy? Now concentrate it and then release.”
Vanand could feel the energy coarse through her, knitting closed her wounds. The bullet was still in her chest but she could breathe now at least. She rolled to her right, dragging her blade against the guard’s leg, hamstringing him. He fell to his knees unable to stand. Van spun to her feet, the backhand swing of her sword taking of separating him from his head. Her flaming blade cauterizing the wound as it was made.
Vanand took her first good look at the boss. He was average height for a fyros but incredibly muscular and hair. He looked more like a frahar than a fyros.
“I guess evolution skips a generation,” she chuckled.
The bandit leader leveled the rifle at her, unloading the clip at her. All of the bullets stopped inches from her their momentum drained. Her teacher had taught her one last trick, the protection auras. The bandit dropped the rifle, unsheathing his broadsword. He swung it around with as little effort as most would swing a short sword. It was a design she didn’t recognize and seemed to glow with a blue energy and gave off this low hum. She knew she would be no match for him with brute strength, but she had something he didn’t, finesse and agility.
She drew her sword and dagger, springing towards him. She ducked under his swing deflecting his strike with her dagger. She could feel the vibration from his sword travel through her dagger and into her hand and arm, she could feel her arm going numb even from that brief contact. She slashed him across his stomach, following to the right to avoid his downstrike. She rolled to her feet several feet from him, a thin line of red showed on his stomach. Nothing truly damaging, but it was a start.
Vanand rushed him again, feinting to the right this time. He swung barely missing her. She rammed him, using her momentum to spin her around him. She slammed her dagger into his kidney. She was so focused on his sword arm that she didn’t notice his other fist closing for her face, until it made contact. The force of the punch sent her flying backwards, she rolled to bleed off some of the force of the punch. She stood still dazed, the darkness creeping into the edges of her vision.
“Can’t black out from one punch.” She muttered wiping the blood from her face.
She regained her guard position, still shaky. It was his turn to take the offensive. He dove towards her, his muscular legs propelling him far faster than a man of his size should be able to move. His long strides closed the distance quickly but as he leaned into his thrust his steps faltered. Van seeing an opening dove forward, her blade thrusting into his larynx. He dropped his blade, falling to his knees. The rivulets of blood flowed down her blade, dripping of the end. He gurgled as he opening his mouth trying to speak.
“You had your chance before you shot me,” she said spitting into his face. She braced her foot against his shoulder pushing him off her blade. She picked up his blade and walked over to his body. With one swing she send his head rolling off, she bent over gripping his hair in her fingers. She lifted the head looking him in the eyes.
“For Jena,” she mumbled halfheartedly as she retrieved the rest of her gear. She looked at her helm.
“Ruined,” she said with a sigh. She poked a finger through the hole in her chest plate. “Looks like I’ll need a new breastplate too.”
She left through the front gate, no one daring to challenge her on the way out. She wheezed and limped as she started towards the outskirts of town and the Karavan altar. It was going to be a long walk.
Comments and suggestion are welcome and even encouraged as long as they're constructive. If I get enough positive feedback, I'll try my hand at a longer backstory for Vanand.
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