The Archer and the Olthoi
Posted: Tue Apr 01, 2003 6:50 pm
He stopped and stood motionless, his breath forming small clouds of vapor and then dissapating into the cold northern Osteth air. Aluvian lands these were. But the Sho was at home here. These mountains reminded him of his home outside Kara. He owned a Villa there and was proud of this symbol of wealth payed for by his courage and tenacity. Payed for by the spoils of his conquests. Payed for in blood.
They were almost invisible against the snowy backdrop. Their translucent white exoskeletons blended perfectly. He didn't really see them, he sensed them. Many years of survival in the harsh world of Dereth had honed his senses for such things.
"Altered Olthoi" he mumbled under his breath, as he scrambled for the appropriate arrow for his quarry. The archer was not at all frightened or even excited about the prospect of combat. In his mind, the outcome of this engagement had already been determined. He didn't care that these olthoi had once enslaved his entire race, instead he thought about what loot he might find on the carcesses of the olthoi. He hoped for keys with which to open the Virindi troves he frequents outside Ayan.
The bowstring snapped forward, his arrow sliced throught the icy air. A moment of silence was suddenly shattered by a shrill squeal. The arrow had found its mark. The olthoi turned in the direction of the shot, pausing briefly to locate their attacker before beginning their counter attack.
They scrambled up the hill, filling the air with their screams as they were pelted by the torrent of arrows. For one, the punishing storm proved deadly. A puff of crystaline snow exploded into the air as the giant bug crashed into the fresh powder. It released a final wail and ceased to be. The three remaining olthoi proved to be more determined than their fallen brother and met the archer at the apex of the hill. The old archer nashed his teeth in preparation for their vengance. The battle was joined. The struggle for life and death now began in earnest.
The first barrage of the olthoi's assault reminded the archer of something he had not considered in his haste to pillage their loot.... their electric attack ignored his armor's magical protections. He was reminded of his folly time and again as the shocking jolts were delivered. Still, he stuggled on, his eyes met the eyes of his enemies in mutual hatred. Hatred so deep, even his blood sizzled and hissed as it intertwined with the acidic blood of his foe. The clash of steel and chitin rung in his ears and he quickly forgot about the treasures these creatures might yield. His heart now had only one desire....
To survive.
His muscles spasmed violently with each shock, so much so that he could hardly fire his bow, but still, another olthoi fell. The final two seemed to panic at the sight and intensified their assualt. An esculation the archer thought impossible. Stunned and blinded by pain, every fiber of his being wanted to cry out in agony but his pride kept him silent. He would not give them the satisfaction of letting them hear his scream. Blow after furious blow pummeled the archer. His lips quivered and his hands shook. He realized that at some point duing the merciless assault, he had dropped his weapon. In his state of shock, he had no idea how long he had been without it. He dropped to his knees and groped blindly into the snow, but his cause was lost. The lifestone awaited its sacrifice of blood. At last, he could no longer suppress the pain. He cried out for mercy, but expected no quarter. Then his lifeforce faded away, a surreal sinking feeling he has felt many times before, but one that he could not become at ease with, no matter how many times he'd been through it. The olthoi sensed they had broken him and tauntingly prodded at his limp motionless form. His body lay in a pool of blood and tears locked in enternal stare with one of the fallen olthoi. Praise be to Asheron for the magic that would allow his resurrection.
His fear and pain drifted away and was quickly replaced by humiliation as he regained conciousness at the lifestone in Ayan. The old Sho sat awhile and reflected on what had happened. He realized he had been too hasty in his attack. Indeed he realized he was killed by his own greed. As he prepared for return to the scene of his defeat, he thought now of his ancestors who were once enslaved by the olthoi. Ashamed of his greed, he vowed to regain his honor. He raised his wand to the glimmering Ayan sun...
"Shurov Thiloi"
...and was gone.
They were almost invisible against the snowy backdrop. Their translucent white exoskeletons blended perfectly. He didn't really see them, he sensed them. Many years of survival in the harsh world of Dereth had honed his senses for such things.
"Altered Olthoi" he mumbled under his breath, as he scrambled for the appropriate arrow for his quarry. The archer was not at all frightened or even excited about the prospect of combat. In his mind, the outcome of this engagement had already been determined. He didn't care that these olthoi had once enslaved his entire race, instead he thought about what loot he might find on the carcesses of the olthoi. He hoped for keys with which to open the Virindi troves he frequents outside Ayan.
The bowstring snapped forward, his arrow sliced throught the icy air. A moment of silence was suddenly shattered by a shrill squeal. The arrow had found its mark. The olthoi turned in the direction of the shot, pausing briefly to locate their attacker before beginning their counter attack.
They scrambled up the hill, filling the air with their screams as they were pelted by the torrent of arrows. For one, the punishing storm proved deadly. A puff of crystaline snow exploded into the air as the giant bug crashed into the fresh powder. It released a final wail and ceased to be. The three remaining olthoi proved to be more determined than their fallen brother and met the archer at the apex of the hill. The old archer nashed his teeth in preparation for their vengance. The battle was joined. The struggle for life and death now began in earnest.
The first barrage of the olthoi's assault reminded the archer of something he had not considered in his haste to pillage their loot.... their electric attack ignored his armor's magical protections. He was reminded of his folly time and again as the shocking jolts were delivered. Still, he stuggled on, his eyes met the eyes of his enemies in mutual hatred. Hatred so deep, even his blood sizzled and hissed as it intertwined with the acidic blood of his foe. The clash of steel and chitin rung in his ears and he quickly forgot about the treasures these creatures might yield. His heart now had only one desire....
To survive.
His muscles spasmed violently with each shock, so much so that he could hardly fire his bow, but still, another olthoi fell. The final two seemed to panic at the sight and intensified their assualt. An esculation the archer thought impossible. Stunned and blinded by pain, every fiber of his being wanted to cry out in agony but his pride kept him silent. He would not give them the satisfaction of letting them hear his scream. Blow after furious blow pummeled the archer. His lips quivered and his hands shook. He realized that at some point duing the merciless assault, he had dropped his weapon. In his state of shock, he had no idea how long he had been without it. He dropped to his knees and groped blindly into the snow, but his cause was lost. The lifestone awaited its sacrifice of blood. At last, he could no longer suppress the pain. He cried out for mercy, but expected no quarter. Then his lifeforce faded away, a surreal sinking feeling he has felt many times before, but one that he could not become at ease with, no matter how many times he'd been through it. The olthoi sensed they had broken him and tauntingly prodded at his limp motionless form. His body lay in a pool of blood and tears locked in enternal stare with one of the fallen olthoi. Praise be to Asheron for the magic that would allow his resurrection.
His fear and pain drifted away and was quickly replaced by humiliation as he regained conciousness at the lifestone in Ayan. The old Sho sat awhile and reflected on what had happened. He realized he had been too hasty in his attack. Indeed he realized he was killed by his own greed. As he prepared for return to the scene of his defeat, he thought now of his ancestors who were once enslaved by the olthoi. Ashamed of his greed, he vowed to regain his honor. He raised his wand to the glimmering Ayan sun...
"Shurov Thiloi"
...and was gone.
