Purplish Space Rock
(?)Community Member
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- Posted: Sat, 29 Dec 2012 23:51:35 +0000
Arwen brought arrows from her quiver to hold in her teeth, though they were only three. She had to make them count; there was little room for mistakes on the side of a mountain. The first two barely caught its attention as it focused on Thessaly, having been shot right over her head. As it charged again, she fully drew back her bow and let loose, the arrow lodging itself in the beast’s neck; a little plume of fire sprang up and started engulfing its fur, put out by the wind and a thrashing claw before it could do more damage. It snapped the arrow off in its neck, blood flowing freely from the wound. The sword was still lodged firmly in its side, the handle wiggling a little as it turned and changed its course. Arwen had gotten its attention, trying to hold it long enough for Thessaly to rise.
She quickly dropped the bow around her shoulders, string across her chest, and put her hands together, both glowing red and yellow. Flame erupted from both and converged into one stream, aimed at the troll. Its fur caught fire, first its chest, then its shoulders and arms and head. It was equidistant from both of them, roaring, shrieking, and flailing in anger and pain. It beat its head and shoulders to put it out, and the fire did ebb, but its fur was still crunchy and melted to what was left of its skin. It seemed to regenerate, flesh growing back where it had been burned and torn away, blackened bits dropping to the ground. Freshly melted bits leaked, the snow spattered with blood and crunchy bits.
The troll was just getting started. Everything they did enraged the beast, from shooting it to breathing the wrong way. It came closer, charging at Arwen; it closed the gap much more quickly than she had expected, and before she could run, it swiped at her. She dropped to the snow and scooted backward, sliding down several steps as she fumbled with her bow; it was hard to pull off while moving backwards away from a blood-thirsty monster. It loomed over her and roared as she drew her bow, sending an arrow into its face. With an arrow lodged in its eye, it backed up several steps, holding its face and trying to rid the source of the pain.
She quickly dropped the bow around her shoulders, string across her chest, and put her hands together, both glowing red and yellow. Flame erupted from both and converged into one stream, aimed at the troll. Its fur caught fire, first its chest, then its shoulders and arms and head. It was equidistant from both of them, roaring, shrieking, and flailing in anger and pain. It beat its head and shoulders to put it out, and the fire did ebb, but its fur was still crunchy and melted to what was left of its skin. It seemed to regenerate, flesh growing back where it had been burned and torn away, blackened bits dropping to the ground. Freshly melted bits leaked, the snow spattered with blood and crunchy bits.
The troll was just getting started. Everything they did enraged the beast, from shooting it to breathing the wrong way. It came closer, charging at Arwen; it closed the gap much more quickly than she had expected, and before she could run, it swiped at her. She dropped to the snow and scooted backward, sliding down several steps as she fumbled with her bow; it was hard to pull off while moving backwards away from a blood-thirsty monster. It loomed over her and roared as she drew her bow, sending an arrow into its face. With an arrow lodged in its eye, it backed up several steps, holding its face and trying to rid the source of the pain.