|A Hero's Quest for glory! The fighters Story
Author: D-man98 PM
What if you wanted to become a hero, a fighter? What if you could be taught how? What would you do after graduation? Why you'd go to a snowed in valley full of curse and brigand robbers, thats what!Rated: Fiction K - English - Adventure/Humor - Words: 973 - Published: 09-24-04 - id: 2070012
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A Hero's Quest for Glory: The Fighter
The Sun was warm on his face, but only one side of it. The other side was cold. He wasn't sure which side was warm, and which side was cold. But he didn't really care.
He shivered, and instinctively reached to pull his sleeping bag back up. It wasn't there. He groaned and reached further, assuming he'd rolled out of it alittle. He still couldn't find it. Suddenly he became aware of his splitting headache. Groaning he tried to roll over, to reach and pull his sleeping bag back over himself. All he wanted was sleep, sweet, warm, sleep. He seemed to be stuck. He couldn't roll over. Fine, he would content himself with the embrace of his pillow. He realized his pillow wasn't there either. His head throbbed, and he pushed himself to his knees.
He squinted and looked around. He was on the ground, no sleeping bag or pillow anywhere in sight. Looking over his shoulder the headache intensified. He closed his eyes, but he could still see spots hanging in the air. He could swear he'd looked into a veritable wall of snow, reflecting light back into his eyes. That's odd, where would the snow have come from? It was a warm spring, so the snow was all but melted, that was why he'd being sleeping the past few nights with his sleeping bag open. He shielded his eyes and opened them again. Yes, it was a mountain of snow reflecting light; it was so bright he still had to squint. It was hard to think with his headache; so it took him a while to realize he should stop looking at the snow and keep moving. He shivered again and moved to stand up.
He had to pull his legs out of a good two feet of snow. Looking around again he realized he had been lying on a small field of snow, which was why he was so cold. It came back to him. He was walking past a large stream, which was coming down from the mountains to the north, and then there was a loud rumbling. He had looked up to see waves of sown crashing down the mountain slide. There was an avalanche, and he had almost out ran it. Almost but not quite, and his head still hurt. He saw a large rock beside the trail, and sat on it well he gathered his bearings. His head was still pounding.
Reaching up to rub it, he quickly pulled his hand away when his head rolled with new waves of pain.
His hand was covered in blood. Panic gripped him. Half his head was ripped away, nothing left but a bleeding hunk of flesh, bone, and brain. He just knew it was.
"Alright, alright man, just stay calm..." Reassuring himself, he pushed himself off the rock and trudged along threw the forest. Sudden waves of pain rolled over him again, and his vision turned dark, he collapsed to his knees, breathing heavily until his vision cleared. After a few minutes he pulled himself up with the help of a tree and continued on to find the road he had been following, before the avalanche. He again followed the path; knowing that there was a town somewhere nearby.
"Can't be that far... when I get there I've find someone to heal me..."
The trip into town seemed overly long, arduous, and lonely. To pass the time Fighter tried to recall the details of the past month; he had graduated from FAC's - the Famous Adventurer's Correspondence School for Heroes, and set out to find adventure. In a tavern on the other side of the mountains he had heard of a cursed-brigand ridden valley in need of a hero. He felt he was just such a hero, and had set of right away.
"I say lad, you look to be in more dire straits then myself!"
Someone's sharp voice intruded on his thoughts and he looked up off the trail."Who's there?" He asked, he didn't see anyone.
"Down here!" Fighter looked down to see a brilliant red fox trapped in a bear trap.
"Are you the one talking?"
"Yes, oh don't look so surprised, these are magically times! Now listen, this is really painful, if you're the heroic type, like your grab suggests you to be, then you'd help me out here...
"Uh..." He groaned, "I don't
know if I can bend down there..."
"A REAL hero would do it..."
Fighter groaned, the fox was right, of course, heroes always did good things, he'd read it in his instruction manual, the chapter on paladins. So he did what5 he had to, and dropped heavily onto his knees. The sudden motion jarred his head and made his vision swim. After a moment, when he could see straight enough, he pulled the simple trap open.
"My thanks Hero! Now before I go,
always remember: it pays to be polite to people, even if they are
rude themselves. And secondly, the sorceress Baba-yaga placed an
enchantment on the baron's poor daughter many years ago." With
those very confusing words, the red fox dashed away and disappeared
in the undergrowth of the forest.
"Huh?" Fighter could only say, totally befuddled. When he tried to rise to his feet his head swam again and he collapsed fully onto the ground.