Just a short story I wrote recently. I've been thinking of writing stories for a while but don't know if I'm good enough. Just like to know what you guys think.......
Skeggi Skardisson looked out upon the surrounding peaks.
Up here in the Black Mountains he felt truly content,
and yet he had a grave deed ahead of him. A Ranger in the
stronghold of Karak Angazhar, Skeggi was required to scout the mountains around the mighty hold for signs of any enemy movement.
Just hours ago he and his party of Rangers had smelt grobi scum upon the wind.
As he was reflecting on the atrocities the greenskins had dealt his race another Ranger approached him. Haklang was his name. He was still relatively young for a dwarf, a fact made apparent constantly by his companions.
'Any sign of them yet?' he asked as he stuffed his pipe with tobacco.
'No beardling, not yet' replied Skeggi.
'I'm sure they'll show their bastard faces soon' said Haklang with a
bloodthirsty gleam to his eye.
'Don't be so sure, these grobi are sneaky buggers. They'll probably wait for an opportunity to ambush us from the rear' said Skeggi spitting a great wad of phlegm on the rocky ground.
He turned to face the young dwarf.
'Come beardling, let's see if the others have found anything'.
The two dwarfs emerged from a cleft in the mountains on to a wide ledge overlooking the forest to the east. The rest of the Rangers stood around talking in low voices. As Skeggi and Haklang walked towards the hunting party a grey-bearded dwarf approached them.
'Any luck?' asked the grey beard.
'None Hagrim, maybe it was old spores we smelt earlier' said Skeggi.
'I wouldn't wager on that Skeggi, old Brakk has found a trail of grobi scent leading down the slopes into the forest to the south' declared Hagrim.
'Excellent, my axe thirsts for grobi blood' said Haklang excitedly.
Skeggi and Hagrim gave the young dwarf a stern look.
'So eager for glory beardling?' jested Hagrim.
'These grobi don't deserve to walk among the mountains of our kin' spat Haklang.
'They all have centuries of pillage and murder to account for!'.
Hagrim gave Haklang a nod of respect. 'You show promise beardling, I'll give you that'.
'Enough talk' Skeggi intervened. 'Let's find the scum before nightfall, I wish to sup an ale under the roof of the hold. I don't fancy another night camp'.
'It's this way' said Hagrim.
Brakk was waiting for them at the top of the slopes leading down the mountain side.
The longbeard was sat upon a large boulder, pipe in one hand, the other resting on his trusty crossbow.
Tall pine trees and scraggy bushes were in abundance here on the shelf-like ledge which gradually fell away to a shallow bank of harsh rock leading down into the dark forest that lined the Black Mountains to the south.
'It's about bloody time' sneered the longbeard.
Brakk was a veteran ranger, having served as a pathfinder for nigh on eighty years.
His beard was white as snow and was tucked into his belt and emerging out again reaching his steel capped boots.
'My apologies for making you wait venerable one' said Skeggi.
'The swine have fled to the forests below' spat Brakk. 'No doubt they lost the stomach to face us and fled. This wouldn't have happened in my heyday I'll tell you. The goblins aren't what they used to be'.
The other rangers respectively waited for the longbeard to stop his rant before speaking again.
'Well then, let's get this done' said Skeggi.
The rest of the hunting party grunted in approvement before drawing axes from belts and putting bolts to crossbows.
Skeggi thought on sleeping underneath the mountain for a change as he and the other dwarfs made their way down the rocky slope.
The descent down had been easy for the dwarfs, each of them making brilliant progress,
finding footholds expertly as a dwarf accustomed to life in the mountains would.
As they reached the bottom they were greeted by a wall of trees, marking the edge of the forest.
Skeggi looked to the other dwarfs and nodded. His nod was returned by nine other stern faces. The party moved through the forest in utter silence, Brakk occasionally motioning for the others to stop and then sniffing at the air.
Looking round at Skeggi the longbeard pointed straight ahead and the tapped his crossbow.
Slowly but surely the dwarfs walked on through the gnarled forest.
At last they came to the edge of a clearing.
Stopping at the trees lining the clearing the dwarfs kept low in the scrub and drew up their firearms.
In the middle of the clearing there stood around thirty goblins in robes and hoods of midnight black. They were giggling away in their foul tongue, eating large mushrooms and cooking small animal carcasses on a large fire.
Skeggi looked over the dwarfs and then held his hruk horn to his lips.
The mighty instrument sounded and then as one the dwarfs charged into the clearing with Khazalid warcries on their tongues.
The goblins were slow to react to charge, some of them cut down mercilessly.
Taking up crude spears the goblins soon found courage and fought back at the dwarfs with an animal fury.
One dwarf was beaten back by four of the hooded villians, fending off blows and jabs.
His fortune was found wanting however as his throat was sliced by goblin steel, the dwarf gargling blood as he slumped to the forest floor.
Skeggi fought on with his rune axe to deadly affect, dispatching all grobi in his path.
Weaving powerful blows and strikes, Haklang also slew screaming greenskins set on his death.
The young dwarf lay about him with a grim look upon his face, punishing these filth for setting foot on the peaks of Karak Angazhar.
In a brief lull in the fighting he saw yet more goblins appear from the forest, at least another thirty.
And with them came horror on eight legs.
A huge spider, easily the size of a manling dwelling, erupted from the trees with a cackling shaman atop it's spiny abdomen.
Many of the dwarfs let off a volley at this new threat but their quarrels were dissipated by a mist of green smoke, a product of the mad shaman's evil magic.
The giant spider's huge mandibles dripped with venom as it came on the dwarfs, scuttling towards one hapless soul and sucking the life fluids from his body.
Skeggi spat in disgust on the leaf covered ground.
'Face my steel you eight legged freak!' he cried as he held his blade up high and charged the spider, absolute resolve and determination in his eyes.
Skeggi Skardisson looked out upon the surrounding peaks.
Up here in the Black Mountains he felt truly content,
and yet he had a grave deed ahead of him. A Ranger in the
stronghold of Karak Angazhar, Skeggi was required to scout the mountains around the mighty hold for signs of any enemy movement.
Just hours ago he and his party of Rangers had smelt grobi scum upon the wind.
As he was reflecting on the atrocities the greenskins had dealt his race another Ranger approached him. Haklang was his name. He was still relatively young for a dwarf, a fact made apparent constantly by his companions.
'Any sign of them yet?' he asked as he stuffed his pipe with tobacco.
'No beardling, not yet' replied Skeggi.
'I'm sure they'll show their bastard faces soon' said Haklang with a
bloodthirsty gleam to his eye.
'Don't be so sure, these grobi are sneaky buggers. They'll probably wait for an opportunity to ambush us from the rear' said Skeggi spitting a great wad of phlegm on the rocky ground.
He turned to face the young dwarf.
'Come beardling, let's see if the others have found anything'.
The two dwarfs emerged from a cleft in the mountains on to a wide ledge overlooking the forest to the east. The rest of the Rangers stood around talking in low voices. As Skeggi and Haklang walked towards the hunting party a grey-bearded dwarf approached them.
'Any luck?' asked the grey beard.
'None Hagrim, maybe it was old spores we smelt earlier' said Skeggi.
'I wouldn't wager on that Skeggi, old Brakk has found a trail of grobi scent leading down the slopes into the forest to the south' declared Hagrim.
'Excellent, my axe thirsts for grobi blood' said Haklang excitedly.
Skeggi and Hagrim gave the young dwarf a stern look.
'So eager for glory beardling?' jested Hagrim.
'These grobi don't deserve to walk among the mountains of our kin' spat Haklang.
'They all have centuries of pillage and murder to account for!'.
Hagrim gave Haklang a nod of respect. 'You show promise beardling, I'll give you that'.
'Enough talk' Skeggi intervened. 'Let's find the scum before nightfall, I wish to sup an ale under the roof of the hold. I don't fancy another night camp'.
'It's this way' said Hagrim.
Brakk was waiting for them at the top of the slopes leading down the mountain side.
The longbeard was sat upon a large boulder, pipe in one hand, the other resting on his trusty crossbow.
Tall pine trees and scraggy bushes were in abundance here on the shelf-like ledge which gradually fell away to a shallow bank of harsh rock leading down into the dark forest that lined the Black Mountains to the south.
'It's about bloody time' sneered the longbeard.
Brakk was a veteran ranger, having served as a pathfinder for nigh on eighty years.
His beard was white as snow and was tucked into his belt and emerging out again reaching his steel capped boots.
'My apologies for making you wait venerable one' said Skeggi.
'The swine have fled to the forests below' spat Brakk. 'No doubt they lost the stomach to face us and fled. This wouldn't have happened in my heyday I'll tell you. The goblins aren't what they used to be'.
The other rangers respectively waited for the longbeard to stop his rant before speaking again.
'Well then, let's get this done' said Skeggi.
The rest of the hunting party grunted in approvement before drawing axes from belts and putting bolts to crossbows.
Skeggi thought on sleeping underneath the mountain for a change as he and the other dwarfs made their way down the rocky slope.
The descent down had been easy for the dwarfs, each of them making brilliant progress,
finding footholds expertly as a dwarf accustomed to life in the mountains would.
As they reached the bottom they were greeted by a wall of trees, marking the edge of the forest.
Skeggi looked to the other dwarfs and nodded. His nod was returned by nine other stern faces. The party moved through the forest in utter silence, Brakk occasionally motioning for the others to stop and then sniffing at the air.
Looking round at Skeggi the longbeard pointed straight ahead and the tapped his crossbow.
Slowly but surely the dwarfs walked on through the gnarled forest.
At last they came to the edge of a clearing.
Stopping at the trees lining the clearing the dwarfs kept low in the scrub and drew up their firearms.
In the middle of the clearing there stood around thirty goblins in robes and hoods of midnight black. They were giggling away in their foul tongue, eating large mushrooms and cooking small animal carcasses on a large fire.
Skeggi looked over the dwarfs and then held his hruk horn to his lips.
The mighty instrument sounded and then as one the dwarfs charged into the clearing with Khazalid warcries on their tongues.
The goblins were slow to react to charge, some of them cut down mercilessly.
Taking up crude spears the goblins soon found courage and fought back at the dwarfs with an animal fury.
One dwarf was beaten back by four of the hooded villians, fending off blows and jabs.
His fortune was found wanting however as his throat was sliced by goblin steel, the dwarf gargling blood as he slumped to the forest floor.
Skeggi fought on with his rune axe to deadly affect, dispatching all grobi in his path.
Weaving powerful blows and strikes, Haklang also slew screaming greenskins set on his death.
The young dwarf lay about him with a grim look upon his face, punishing these filth for setting foot on the peaks of Karak Angazhar.
In a brief lull in the fighting he saw yet more goblins appear from the forest, at least another thirty.
And with them came horror on eight legs.
A huge spider, easily the size of a manling dwelling, erupted from the trees with a cackling shaman atop it's spiny abdomen.
Many of the dwarfs let off a volley at this new threat but their quarrels were dissipated by a mist of green smoke, a product of the mad shaman's evil magic.
The giant spider's huge mandibles dripped with venom as it came on the dwarfs, scuttling towards one hapless soul and sucking the life fluids from his body.
Skeggi spat in disgust on the leaf covered ground.
'Face my steel you eight legged freak!' he cried as he held his blade up high and charged the spider, absolute resolve and determination in his eyes.
