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DraconicFeline rolled 1 100-sided dice:
22
Total: 22 (1-100)
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 Posted: Wed Dec 25, 2013 4:51 pm
Character || Ruelash
Stage || Swordsman
Battling || Nehredile
Battle Stat || 17
Defense || 12
Roll Needed || 80-100
Rolled || 22
Outcome || Loss
Experience earned || 13
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Posted: Thu Dec 26, 2013 4:31 pm
Ruelash held back a sneeze as a stray feather from his coat's lining tickled his nose. He was hiding, but his hiding was nearly at its end. His harpoon was at the ready as a group of Nehredile milled about the hole nearby, bellowing to each other. He knew he could take one of them out, but he wanted to be sure. If they would only slide over to a certain spot - not too far away from him, not too close to their escape hole - he could take one of them down. He wasn't as motivated to kill them as usual, though. None of them were HIS nehredile. None of them had Khashib's black marks.
Still, He'd happily kill one, if only to alleviate some of the frustration that built up like a galestorm in his chest.
He tensed as a nehredile drew near to the 'sweet spot', his gloved hand gripping the harpoon tightly as he slowly - achingly slowly - rose into a throwing posture, his white clothes and the snow around him keeping him camouflaged. He drew back to throw, slowly and carefully. He aimed, bunched his muscles, and, with a sudden slinging movement of stomach, back, and arms he loosed the sharp weapon.
It took him a moment to realize why he hadn't hit, and another to realize why he had toppled to the ground. He looked up into the familiarly marked face of a Nehredile.
Khashib. Recognition filled him with rage, and he struggled to get up, only to be gently pushed down by a firm nudge of the creature's horn. It barked at him before sliding away, disappearing into a ice hole by the time Ruelash could stand up and ready his swords. He sputtered angrily in frustration, stamping at the ice.
Then, he retrieved his harpoon and, with one final glare, went back to his cave camp to spend the night, eat, and warm up.
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