The drums of war

Regner Vilhelmsen · 01-29-2012, 02:32 PM

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Regner Vilhelmsen

Check my vitals signs and know i'm still alive

Word Count :: 569 All dialogue is Danish. I would say Adelle is two months or a few days older in this.

Regner ran on through the forest, ignoring the pain that shot through his mangled leg with each step as he focused on getting himself and his precious cargo, wrapped tightly in a blanket and shoved under one arm, clutched to his chest and concealed by his cloak as much as was possible when running.

Ahead of Regner lay a treacherous path, a dark forest filled to the brim with Coyote scouts and archers. Behind him lay the burning, death filled ruins of the Broderskab camp, along with the baying and snarling of the coyote as they swept through the forest, finishing off small pockets of resistance and mercilessly hunting down fleeing survivors such as Regner.

Coyote, even in his mind Regner snarled the word. The cowards had not fought a fair war in the old warriors eyes, utilising treachery and poison where force and fighting skill failed them. The Broderskab had been vastly depleted when they attacked, barely a tenth of its warriors fit to fight. Even so they had made the coyote pay for ever step, every canine that could hold a weapon had been pressed into the defence, a fierce battle for survival so unlike the normal fare of his warriors. Regner himself had killed several coyote and wounded many others before one had latched onto his leg, nearly crippling him and forcing him out of the fight; the elderly dog's fur was stained a sticky crimson with their blood.

Still, despite their bravery and skill the Broderskab had fallen. However ill gained a victory the coyote had claimed, it was a victory nonetheless. Any who had survived the battle were scattering as Regner now did, taking with them whatever they could carry of the young and ill. Regner could hear their pained screams as even now they were hunted by the graceless victors

Ahead of him a coyote loomed out of the darkness, stepping clear of a thick bush as it clutched at its belt, presumably for a sword. While old and injured Regner was still heavy with muscle and, at the moment, running down a slope. He reached the coyote before it could draw its weapon, separating its head from its body with a swift axe strike and crashing through the foliage it had hid in like a freight train.

It seemed like an unwinnable situation, but Regner had an ace in his sleeve. Earlier that day his scouts had come to him with news of a system of caves, leading away from the site of the camp for many miles, the entrance protected by a river.

Regenr stifled himself from letting loose a cry of triumph as the river came into view and launched himself into the water. Instantly the water turned pink with blood from his wound and fur but he pressed on, wading through the water and slipping inside the barely visible outcropping in the rocks on the far side, letting the river wash away any trace of his passing.

Once inside Regner collapsed onto the sandy ground. The tunnel was tiny, just big enough for Regner to squeeze through in Lupus form and the large dog reacted accordingly, shifting to his smallest form. Between the change in his body chemistry from the shift and his adrenaline wearing off Regner was really beginning to feel the pain in his leg and collapsed to the floor whining, injured leg splayed out awkwardly.

"Adelle, are you okay?" He called out wearily into the darkness.

Image courtesy of UmbraDeNoapte-Stock

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