The Mechanics of Peace

Chapter 5 - The Beast

by David "Lord Davidian", posted on April 17th, 2001

Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 -
Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

       The night wind wailed in gusty anger as ominously dark grey clouds rolled hauntingly past a pale blue moon. Delvun wasted no time with sympathetic goodbyes (not that many would care), sensing that a powerful storm was sure to soon rage forth. He paused only briefly totake one last look at his village home as he tied his free flowing golden lochs into a single tight braid which extended to midway down his back.
Just as he reached the edge of the Forest, Delvun's fine-tuned sense of smell picked up the faint scent of animal fur nearby. He instinctively stoped in his tracks and cautiously turned, bending slightly to peer into the darkness; his strong but nimble hands clasped around the hilt of his longsword, prepared to draw steel at even the hint of enemy agression. His infravision showed the bright red and dull orange heat signature given off by a couple of small birds and a curious owl, but nothing more.

       "Perhaps it is just the carcass of some poor dead animal " Delvun thought to himself, trying to make sense of what it was he smelled. As he turned around to continue his journey, however, he clearly heard the snapping of twigs underfoot; giving the dextrous young Elf cause to turn around yet again. Before him growled the gaping jaws of a huge and very hungry looking wolf! Its fur was mangled and mangy; black as the night sky and missing in spots. Its razor sharp teeth and claws were yellowed and stained with the blood of its many past vanquished victims.

       Delvun locked onto the beast's steely green eyes, hoping to distract it long enough to unsheath his longsword. However, the experienced hunter was too cunning to succumb to such trickery. Before Dlevun could even remove his longsword halfway from its protective animal hide sheath, the determined beast lunged at him like a tightly wound spring just released; its claws poised to pin him down and its fangs ready to tear at his vulnerable throat.

       At this moment, Delvun's swift reflexes (and good luck) saved him as they had so many times in the past. He managed to duck seconds before the wolf-beast was able to land its first attack. The wolf-beast, however, was not so fortunate. It landed head first into a nearby bush with very nasty looking thorns. It would take a couple of minutes of struggling at least before the beast would be freed from its natural trappings.

       Learning long ago from experience that it was nearly always better to defend rather than attack when closely confronted by a four-legged enemy, Delvun finished unsheathing his Elven blade and braced himself for the next round of combat. The rain he had been expecting came now, sudden and hard. He winced as a sharp pain shot through his left shoulder upon contact with the first few drops of the forceful, punishing rain. He crained his stiffened neck to assess the damage caused by his opponent's massive claws. It was bad.

       The putrid stench of filthy wet fur lured Delvun away from his fixation on his fresh, gaping wound. Again he came face to face with the snarling beast who now was driven by both hunger and intense, uncontrolled rage. The cursed creature didn't even seem to acknowledge the dozens of thick thorns still embeded deep into the fleshy parts of its patchwork fur. It was as if it didn't feel them piercing its nerve endings.

       The beast's intense rage shown in its cold green eyes, warning Delvun that he had but one good chance to finish this fight before he himself was finished; this was that chance. As the crazed beast lunged itself upon him for a second time, Delvun firmly gripped the hilt of his longsword with both anxious hands and tensed every Goddess given muscle in his arms; prepared to deliver a devasting blow.

       When he saw his moment to strike, Delvun swung with all his might and, with a satisfying CRUNCH!, the death delivering blade made contact with the thick neck of the wolf-beast...and continued clear through to the other side!

       Delvun was in awe of his lucky critical hit and watched as his now vanquished enemy's detached head flew off its powerful shoulders and landed twenty feet or so into a waiting marsh. As the foul head slowly sunk into oblivion, Delvun wished he had the time to bring the lifeless carcass laying before his feet back to his village and show everyone what he had slain; what a story that would be to tell! But, if he did not move ahead and accomplish the pressing mission at hand, there may soon not be a village to return to.

       Thankfully, the vicious downpour of rain was brief at least and Delvun found a good size boulder to rest against while attending to his nasty shoulder wound. He opened the rabbit skin pouch full of healing supplies which Balrun had provided for him and withdrew a small jar of healing salve, a long piece of soft silk cloth and a piece of wild boar hide. He then gingerly rubbed a generous portion of the healing salve over the gaping wound; for a minute it burned intensely and caused him to wince, but then it cooled and eased the throbbing, searing pain. Next, Delvun wraped the soft cloth (treated with some sort of anti-infection substance) tightly around his shoulder several times. Finally, he did the same with the piece of wild boar hide, wrapping around only once though, to help repel moisture as well as to cushion against any future attacks by enemies who might wish to take advantage of his vulnerable wound. With that done, Delvun looked up at the forboding city ahead; his future lying just a short distance away.