Monday, July 29, 2013
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
What was that sound? - a VERY short story
“What was that sound?”
The guard tilted his head to the side, squinted his eyes tight in a vain attempt to get a better view in the torch and moonlight. He headed over to the scaffolding that was still set up along the wall from the building that morning. A quick glance around to see if any of the other guards heard it and he had motioned for the next guard to come over, but as usual the other guard had fallen asleep. He thought for a moment of yelling at him, but didn't want to cause a scene if this was just another false alarm. He made a mental note to report the sleeper to his captain at the next shift-change and he began to climb the scaffolding.
He wasn't as young as he used to be, were he as young as the newest recruits he could probably have scaled the scaffolding in half the time it took him. As he pulled himself up onto the highest portion of the scaffold he looked first at the top of the wall, just outside of his reach then back over at the sleeping guard. A glance at his own feet he noticed that one of the builders had left a bucket and masonry trough. He picked up the trough and threw it at the sleeping guard.
His aim was close but not close enough, and it just brushed the sleeping guard's foot. The guard rustled a bit in his chair but didn't wake. Flipping the bucket back over he used if for an extra boost. He lost his footing for a moment and almost fell but quickly grabbed onto the wall ledge above ceasing his fall. The bucket fell to the ground with a noisy thud. Straining he pulled himself up the rest of the way, he looked once more at the sleeping guard. Not even a a glimmer of movement.
On top of the wall there wasn’t as much light from the torches around town. He pulled his pack off his side and pulled out his torch, lighting it with some flint and steel. He raised the torch up and drawing his blade from the sheathe he began to prowl across the top of the wall. He quickly spotted something shining off in the distance. He approached it cautiously and lowered his torch to get a better look at it.
“A grappling hook...SOUND THE....”
He had been in more then his fair share of brawls over the years, but getting hit in the back of the head always dazed even the strongest of warriors, the trick was to let your knees relax for a moment so you could regain your balance before you hit the floor and went out entirely. His body may have been aging but he still remembered the tricks. He hit the floor and did his best to roll back onto his feet. A quick feint with his blade and then bringing his torch into his attackers face.
The attacker stumbled back, his sickish gray skin now turning pink from the burn. The attacker wasted no time though in pulling his own dagger and stabbed him in his torch arm. Thinking fast before the blood loss started to add up he flung his blade to the ground, grabbed onto his attacker and flung both of them off the wall and into the city. He had one shot at this, and he made it count, his attacker hit the ground first and he landed squarely on his chest. A quick jab to his assailants face to ensure he would remain unconcious. He slowly regained his feet picking up the his sword with his wounded arm and holding tightly onto it with his good arm to try and slow the loss of blood.
He took in a deep breathe and screamed as loud as he could “SOUND THE ALARM! WE HAVE ORCS IN THE CITY!”
The guard tilted his head to the side, squinted his eyes tight in a vain attempt to get a better view in the torch and moonlight. He headed over to the scaffolding that was still set up along the wall from the building that morning. A quick glance around to see if any of the other guards heard it and he had motioned for the next guard to come over, but as usual the other guard had fallen asleep. He thought for a moment of yelling at him, but didn't want to cause a scene if this was just another false alarm. He made a mental note to report the sleeper to his captain at the next shift-change and he began to climb the scaffolding.
He wasn't as young as he used to be, were he as young as the newest recruits he could probably have scaled the scaffolding in half the time it took him. As he pulled himself up onto the highest portion of the scaffold he looked first at the top of the wall, just outside of his reach then back over at the sleeping guard. A glance at his own feet he noticed that one of the builders had left a bucket and masonry trough. He picked up the trough and threw it at the sleeping guard.
His aim was close but not close enough, and it just brushed the sleeping guard's foot. The guard rustled a bit in his chair but didn't wake. Flipping the bucket back over he used if for an extra boost. He lost his footing for a moment and almost fell but quickly grabbed onto the wall ledge above ceasing his fall. The bucket fell to the ground with a noisy thud. Straining he pulled himself up the rest of the way, he looked once more at the sleeping guard. Not even a a glimmer of movement.
On top of the wall there wasn’t as much light from the torches around town. He pulled his pack off his side and pulled out his torch, lighting it with some flint and steel. He raised the torch up and drawing his blade from the sheathe he began to prowl across the top of the wall. He quickly spotted something shining off in the distance. He approached it cautiously and lowered his torch to get a better look at it.
“A grappling hook...SOUND THE....”
He had been in more then his fair share of brawls over the years, but getting hit in the back of the head always dazed even the strongest of warriors, the trick was to let your knees relax for a moment so you could regain your balance before you hit the floor and went out entirely. His body may have been aging but he still remembered the tricks. He hit the floor and did his best to roll back onto his feet. A quick feint with his blade and then bringing his torch into his attackers face.
The attacker stumbled back, his sickish gray skin now turning pink from the burn. The attacker wasted no time though in pulling his own dagger and stabbed him in his torch arm. Thinking fast before the blood loss started to add up he flung his blade to the ground, grabbed onto his attacker and flung both of them off the wall and into the city. He had one shot at this, and he made it count, his attacker hit the ground first and he landed squarely on his chest. A quick jab to his assailants face to ensure he would remain unconcious. He slowly regained his feet picking up the his sword with his wounded arm and holding tightly onto it with his good arm to try and slow the loss of blood.
He took in a deep breathe and screamed as loud as he could “SOUND THE ALARM! WE HAVE ORCS IN THE CITY!”
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