Oh my god, why didn’t any of
you tell me that last chapter was so bad? You can, I don’t mind! If it’s
boring, tell me, because damn I get a pretty good feel of that myself! class=SpellE>Geez, I’m not made of glass or anything. And yes, I know
that last chapter WAS hella boring because I’ve
reworked it a lot and now it’s kajillion times
better. Good though? Fingers crossed I guess! Anywho
I changed some stuff so start back there. --___---__-__---___-- Malton style='font-size:10.5pt;color:#000033'> didn’t dare say anything. Hawk’s eyes
were too hard, and the arrow lined at his chest too sharp. His heart,
practically in his throat, started to beat a little faster, nearly stopping
when he heard a second twang of the bow and the plunk of another arrow in the
tree beside him. This arrow’s feathers were
brushing his stomach, but before he could even blink a third plunk sounded
just behind him, and he could feel the shudder of a wooden shaft against his
back. The malevolent glare in
Hawk’s blue eyes made it clear that the elf was enjoying this game. For a
single, brief second, the orc felt something
monstrous rage up in his gut but he quickly mashed it back down. Pinned by
the tree at his back and the elf in front, Malton
raced to think of a way out of this situation. Normally he would have been
prepared to drag his pride through the dirt, if necessary. He hated doing it,
but whenever a mere civilian like him encountered armed combat, wounded pride
was far more preferable to a sword through the gut. Or an
arrow, as it were. The Ranger had already drawn
a fourth shaft and placed it across his bow, though he had neither raised nor
aimed it quite yet. Hawk’s small, chilly smile seemed to imply that he wanted
the orc to get scared and run. Judging by his
incredible accuracy so far, Malton didn’t doubt
that the next shot fired would also “miss,” but playing the mouse to Hawk’s
callous cat was a far cry from shedding a few false tears and pretending to
have been taught a lesson about racial superiority. The orc
had handled enough pricks like Hawk over the years to know that they were
generally satisfied with simple obeisance and bowing and scraping of the
head. Except Hawk had also,
obviously, seen enough of his conversation with Gilvarin
to know that he was actually a little more intelligent than he had originally
let on. For a moment, Malton lost control. Of course. Of course the elf
would have spied on him first and therefore gained immediate immunity to any
more of the orc’s bullshit in his attempt to get
away. Of course. Because it wasn’t like he wasn’t already unlucky enough. Malton style='font-size:10.5pt;color:#000033'> could feel his jaw twist into
something between a scowl and a frown, and- for a moment, he wished that ‘ class=SpellE>Varin would be the next person to tumble through the
trees. Then he thought about it and was glad that the elf wasn’t there at
all. The undergrowth to Hawk’s
left erupted in a loud rustle of leaves and, surprisingly enough, an elf did
stumble out from it. Unfortunately- of course- it wasn’t even the elf he’d
been hoping for. In fact, it was another one he’d hoped to never see again. “Alar
burn this shit! I fucking hate the woods!” Amberglade
swore, ruthlessly pulling her legs free of the forest’s undergrowth. “Hey, I
lost track of the big green fuck when he-” The woman’s red head snapped up,
her eyes widening at the sight of the arrows that had almost pinned class=SpellE>Malton to the tree behind him. “Hah! Wow, those are some
damn good shots Hawk!” she exclaimed, tromping into the clearing with a
breathless grin. Amberglade marched past her Ranger
companion, her gaze sliding down to Malton’s waist
as she rounded his side. The orc glanced down,
following her eyes, where he suddenly realized he was still standing there
with his pants undone and his big green dick hanging out in his hand. “Holy
fuck!” the red-headed Ranger swore as Malton
hastily tucked himself back in his pants, his face flushing a deep, dark
purple. Amberglade was glancing at Hawk though, her
mouth gaping. “Why didn’t you tell me he had such a big cock? It’s a lot
bigger than yours!” Hawk’s cheeks flushed purple,
the elf exhaling heavily through his nose. “Don’t compare me to that class=SpellE>orc filth!” he fumed, glaring at the elf-woman. “Oh I’m just teasing you,
asshole, no need to be so sensitive,” she snapped back. Her attention
immediately returned to the orc, her smile sickly
sweet even as her admiration of his dick disappeared into an angry hiss. “You
made us look really bad back there, orc.”
The Ranger stomped forward, until she could jut her seething face between class=SpellE>Malton’s tusks, her nose a hairsbreadth from his. class=SpellE>Amberglade’s bright blue eyes were stormy and dark, but
still she kept her voice to a low, dangerous murmur. “Captain got a hair up
his elegant arse about having to even be called to
deal with you in the first place. We’re on latrine duty for the
rest of the month because of you.” Normally, when he’d been
faced with such vehement anger before, Malton would
just try to fob what they said off or distract them with a gross, barely
believable tale, but he couldn’t even bring himself to try to do that.
Not this time, when, at last- at last!- he had finally made it to his
best friend’s camp after looking forward to it for so long, his one
best friend who he only got to see a total of six whole weeks of the year!
And now these two bastards were back to try and ruin his day again?! Black bile bubbled up in his
throat, his vision darkening as blood and boiling anger churned in his gut.
For a moment he, he held it down, but it was just too much. Before he knew it
raw hate had seized control of his tongue. “Sounds like just the place
for a pair of shit-eating fucks like you,” he growled, his rich voice strong
and deep. Startled by his sudden rage,
both Hawk and Amberglade stepped back, their mouths
gaping in surprise. His momentary triumph was cut terribly short, however. class=SpellE>Amberglade was back in his face in a flash, her eyes
reckless and wide. “Finally decide to grow a
pair, eh, fuckface?” The woman cracked her
knuckles, pulling her shoulders back and dropping into a squared, experienced
stance. “Good,” she breathed, her red lips parting in cruel grin. “I’ve class=GramE>been wanting to lay into that ugly mug of yours all. class=GramE>day. long.” Malton style='font-size:10.5pt;color:#000033'> barely managed to hide his gulp,
instantly wishing he could take back the last five seconds of his life. Of all the luck. This looked
it was going to be bad. For him. His muscles were mostly for show- he didn’t
know the first thing about combat or fighting! The orc
tensed, backing up a few quick steps as he readied himself to turn and run as
fast as he could back to the camp. “Where you going, pig-boy?” class=SpellE>Amberglade grinned nastily, taking one delicate step
forward for each shuffle he took back. “You think you’re gonna
make it back to your Master?” she asked, sliding directly between him and the
camp and shoving her face into his once more. “Pig-boy?” Hawk hid his
smile behind one hand. “Janeva, that’s just mean.” “Well if it looks like
a piggy, smells like a piggy…” Amberglade trailed
off, eying the orc darkly. Her smirk got even
tighter, if possible, and she tossed a quick glance over her shoulder. “Hey,
you think he squeals like one too?” Malton’s
eyes narrowed dangerously. “Oh, oh, aww,” Hawk
teased, the first to catch the orc’s hateful glare.
“He’s getting angry, Janeva, he looks like he wants
to hurt you.” Smiling with too many
teeth, the red-haired Ranger tapped a finger against her chin. “You think so?
You gonna man-up and stop backing away like a
coward, sissy?” she taunted. “Come on, I thought you were going to hit me.
You want to, don’t you? I’ll even let you get the first punch.” She turned
her head to the side, the corner of her baleful eye still holding his gaze.
“Come on! Hit me!” “No?” she asked,
drawing back when he didn’t move. “Too bad for you.” The smile melted from
her lips. “You really should have taken that. It was the only one you’d get.” “Is this really that
much fun?” Malton growled. The elf cocked her
head. Her eyes were cold and cruel. “Yeah, actually. It is.” “More than twiddling
with your boyfriend’s pencil-dick?” It was the flare of her nostrils,
combined with the furious flush of Hawk’s cheeks that egged him on more than
anything else. “Or is it that your cunt’s so loose
that you-” Amberglade’s
eyes blazed, the red-headed elf whipping her hand full-back and slapping him
across the face. Malton rocked backwards, his jaw
tingling and curiously loose, but Amberglade was
far worse off than he. “Fuck!” she screamed,
clutching her hand. Malton caught a glimpse of one
long, crimson streak staining her palm, and that answered why one of his
tusks was so sore. “You fucking bastard!” Amberglade
shrieked, driving her wounded fist into his gut. The orc
doubled over, wheezing hard and struggling to breathe. Cold fingers curled in
his hair, and he didn’t have to look to know that Hawk had advanced on him
too. No matter. He’d been through rougher beatings before. He knew what to
do. He could handle this. A branch snapped
underfoot. Underfoot, beyond his two aggressors. The sudden crack
of brittle wood was impossibly loud in the still air beneath the trees. class=SpellE>Malton’s head snapped up at the sound of the intruder,
his heart nearly catching in his throat when he realized who it was. Ignoring
the hand in his hair he shot straight up, hastily drawing a hand across his
mouth. Again, it was Hawk who caught look on the orc’s
face first, but they both turned halfway to look back too, their lithe bodies
coiled like vipers ready to strike. “And what,” class=SpellE>Gilvarin asked in a calm, almost lazy voice, “pray tell,
do you think you are doing?” Malton
exhaled a heavy breath that he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. “Nothing,
‘Varin,” he said, pulling himself free of class=SpellE>Amberglade’s lax grip and pushing Hawk to the side. The class=SpellE>orc held up his hands as he walked towards his friend,
deliberately putting himself between the elf and the two Rangers behind. He
curled one hand around Gilvarin’s arm and tugged.
“It’s nothing,” he repeated. “Let’s just go.” But the elf would have
none of it. His blue eyes flicked from the green-skinned hand on his arm to
the silent plea in the orc’s big brown eyes. A
twirl of the bottle in his hand. Then those eyes drifted to the two Rangers
in the little clearing. “Well?” the elf asked,
eying them casually as he twirled the bottle again. Amberglade,
arms crossed and head high, spoke first. “Your… class=SpellE>orc,” she spat, a sneer twisting her
otherwise perfect face, “was giving us trouble.” “He needs to learn his
place here in the Vale,” Hawk added darkly, taking a step closer to the
Ranger beside him. For a moment, class=SpellE>Malton just stood there and gaped. Did the two Rangers
not have any sense at all? Could they seriously not tell that class=SpellE>Gilvarin Sunchaser, the man
whose money paid half their wages, was baiting them? He worriedly
tightened his grip on ‘Varin’s arm. “Look-,”
he began, looking slightly up at the elf, “it really was my mistake ‘ class=SpellE>Vari-” “Malton.”
The elf’s interruption was short and curt, and the cold flare in the man’s
blue eyes enough to make the orc waver momentarily.
“And?” he asked, glancing over Malton’s head. Sputtering, class=SpellE>Amberglade dropped her arms, her mouth opening and
closing twice before she finally spoke. “What the hell? ‘And’ what?”
she snarled with a toss of her fiery red mane. “Well, a reason I’d
believe two little potch-cheeked twits with eyes
like crooked fish for starters.” Her eyes blazed. “I
am a Ranger!” “I don’t give a
fuck.” Hawk, her ever-present,
dark-haired shadow, cracked his neck. He had been looking for a fight before,
and now, with the hard set of his jaw and cool cast to eyes he looked like he
had found one he’d like. “At least we don’t bugger filthy greenskins.
Or do you let him bugger y-” “Hey.” The warning note
in Gilvarin’s voice was enough to snap Hawk’s mouth
shut mid-sentence, but it wasn’t enough to stop the elf’s acid tongue. “Watch
your mouth, Vale-boy,” ‘Varin continued with a
sneer, his blue eyes flicking over to Amberglade
too. “Don’t think that just ‘cuz you’re class=SpellE>cunt-struck by that trollbait
there I’ll forgive you for forgetting your place.” Hawk glowered, giving ‘ class=SpellE>Varin one of the blackest looks Malton
had ever seen. “I think maybe you need to learn your place too,” he said
darkly, pausing before he finished with a low “Outsider.” Mag’tha!
Malton clenched his fists, refusing to give into
the urge to flat-out throttle the two ninnies. Did they think this was
a game? A little tussle that would end with the end of the day? No, no the class=SpellE>Sunchaser heir had a long and terrible memory. Even worse
was his ability to fight. Granted, the elf would always just wave it off and
say that it was only because he was the youngest of ten brothers, but there
was a lot more to his fighting skill than the fact that the man was good. In
fact, the way he fought rather matched all of the worst parts of his
personality; specifically, the way Gilvarin could
be incredibly cold, ruthless, and mean. These two idiot Rangers were
kids, compared, and couldn’t even seem to realize that all the huffing and
puffing they did would only make Gilvarin want to
fall on them that much harder. And from the tension in
his friend’s frame now, Malton knew that the fall
was going to hurt enough already. “’Varin,” he said
worriedly, “’Varin, it really was my fault, I-” “Malton!”
Gilvarin snapped, his blue eyes blazing with anger.
The orc recoiled, startled as much by the elf’s
harsh tone as he was with the reprimand itself. Gilvarin
pushed Malton aside with one hand and twirled the
bottle again as he studied the two elves. “I need to ‘learn my place,’ huh?”
he asked, shifting his weight to one side. Mirroring him, class=SpellE>Amberglade folded her arms beneath her breasts and
shifted her weight too. “Yeah, you do, merchant
trash. Your daddy’s money can get only so far, you know.” The elf snorted. “And? What,
you two backwater fuckwits gonna be the ones who
teach me?” Hawk didn’t answer, but the
seething look on his face and clenched fists at his side spoke volumes enough.
He was past the rabid stage and was heading fast toward savage. For once, class=SpellE>Amberglade was the one who picked up the slack. She
sneered at Gilvarin. “I think maybe we should.” “Well alright then,” class=SpellE>Gilvarin said lightly, as though Amberglade
had merely commented on the weather. Then he smashed his bottle against the
trunk of the tree beside him and whipped it up with a vicious grin. “Let’s
go. Learn me my lesson.” The two Rangers paled,
stepping back before they could catch themselves, their eyes wide at the
sight of the crude shiv. tense
confrontation had suddenly turning into a lot more than they had bargained
for. Amberglade had just wanted to get back at the class=SpellE>orc bastard who had made them look so bad in front of the
Captain (nevermind, of course, that their
vindictive attempts to get the orc in trouble were
the reason , and Hawk went along with her because that’s what he always did.
The only thought in her head had been that they would rough the class=SpellE>orc up a little perhaps, make themselves feel bigger than
they actually were. But when they’d arrived to find the orc
speaking fluent Thalassian, with an ease that
belied a rather strong intelligence, she had been forced to realize just how
badly they’d been played. Hawk’s hand clamping
quickly over her mouth had been the only thing that kept her from storming
into the campsite itself and showing the greenskinned
fuck what was what. That’s what he was there for, why she kept him around.
Things were just easier that way. Of course, they
couldn’t do a thing while the Sunchaser heir was
around. The man’s temper was well-known throughout the Vale, although, as
they stared at him through the trees, he didn’t seem nearly class=GramE>so big and intimidating as the stories made him sound. At
least, nothing that a few quick punches couldn’t take care of. Confronting
him, though, would have been suicide, if only because the rest of their Lodge
would beat the shit out of them if the Sunchaser
prick halved their wages again. Hawk and Amberglade
were smart enough to figure that out, at least. The orc,
however, was another matter. Him they could corner, and where the class=SpellE>Sunchaser would have been able to complain to their
Captain, the two Rangers knew that the orc wouldn’t
be able to breathe a word. So they sat and waited, and ade
a plan to corner the orc son of a bitch when he
finally left the safety of Sunchaser’s camp. It had been thrilling,
at first, to lord themselves over the green-skinned fuck, but then the class=SpellE>orc’s handler showed up. Unarmed, the self-important
prick could be cowed. They had experienced enough of that in their own short
service to the Rangers. Fisticuffs was fine- more than one tussle had been
settled amongst their ranks that way- but the Sunchaser
heir was stalking towards them with nothing more than sharded
glass in one hand, and a look on his face that implied he what all he could
do it while not even breaking a sweat. Hawk’s eyes darted
around the forest, even as he smoothly shoved Amberglade
behind him. “Hey, what the fuck-,” she started to say, but he cut her off.
“Janeva!”
he snarled, using the most authoritarian, ‘I’m not panicking’ voice he could
muster. “Run! Get Summerdrake! Tell her we are
being attacked!” The woman’s eyes blazed, and for a split second she flashed
an angry glare at the back of Hawk’s head. Watching her, class=SpellE>Malton was distracted enough that he didn’t even have a
chance to react when Hawk leapt forward and drove his fist into his jaw. The
blow probably would have knocked out anyone else, but, obviously, no one had
ever told Hawk never to punch an orc in the head. class=SpellE>Orc skulls were thick, and in some cases denser than
rock. As he stumbled back, class=SpellE>Malton saw Gilvarin dart
forward from the corner of his eye, slashing upwards with the broken bottle.
The only reason Hawk wasn’t eviscerated by the first blow to his unarmored
stomach was simply because Gilvarin flat-out
missed. The glass only caught the leathers covering the Ranger’s chest
instead. But when ‘Varin snapped back for a second
blow, Malton knew that this time the class=SpellE>sharded glass would sink deep into unprotected flesh. And as much as he
didn’t like the elves, he didn’t hate them enough to see them torn apart.
Moving faster than he’d have normally thought possible, the class=SpellE>orc ignored the stinging in his jaw and caught Hawk’s arm
with both hands, jerking hard and using the elf’s momentum to send the man
sprawling face-first to the ground behind them. Hawk’s head snapped back as
he landed poorly, slamming hard against the trunk of a tree. When he
struggled to get back on his feet, his legs were twisted in his bow and the
weedy grass. Not that class=SpellE>Malton was paying any attention to him. The
instant Gilvarin had seen the orc
move to interpose himself between the two elves,
he’d shifted targets with smooth, fluid cunning of a marsh viper. In the split second of
time he’d devoted to Hawk, Gilvarin had nearly
blinked across the glade and gotten a swing at Amberglade’s
head. The woman tried to fight back, kicking one leg out and dancing
backwards, but the Sunchaser heir was no stranger
to unarmed combat. He dodged expertly, a skill picked up from any number of
the thousand barfights he’d been an eager part of
before. And, just as Malton had been able to tell
that Hawk wouldn’t have been able to move out of Gilvarin’s
quicksilver blows, he could tell that Amberglade
was neither quick nor savvy enough to last long either. She seemed to realize
this too. A moment of panic flashed across her face, before she spun about
and started to run. Gilvarin leapt forward- one
hand stretched out to catch her long hair, the other raised high overhead for
a hard and cruel stab into her back- when he felt a pair of thick green arms
wrap around his waist with the strength of corded steel. “Let me go!” the elf
bellowed, digging all four limbs back into Malton’s
arms and legs in rage as Amberglade ran into the
trees. “Let me go you stupid fuck!” Ignoring the elf’s
venomous curses and flailing limbs, Malton bodily
lifted the taller man and whipped around to get a better hold, netting an
elbow to the side of the head in the process. He ignored that too, and then
realized with angry irritation that the other little fucknut
who had made this day such hell was standing open-mouthed and staring. Why
the fuck the idiot would just stand there uncertainly clutching his bow when
even a barrel-chested orc was struggling to contain
the furious blonde demon Gilvarin had turned into
was beyond him. “Run!” class=SpellE>Malton snarled at the elf, who simply gaped at him with
wide blue eyes. Gilvarin kicked both legs up and
would’ve twisted free were it not for Malton’s
experience in holding him back. The orc heaved, his
arms straining as he hauled his friend away from the stupid Ranger. “Get the
fuck away damnit!” It wasn’t until class=SpellE>Gilvarin almost scored with a lunging slash of the broken
bottle that the Ranger was startled into action. This time Hawk finally
seemed to take his advice, his eyes darting from Gilvarin’s
twisted face to the orc’s and back again before he
turned and ran for the road. “Let go.” class=SpellE>Gilvarin’s hard voice in the quiet air nearly made the class=SpellE>orc jump. “I’m fine, Mal. Let me go.” Malton
cocked his head forward, warily leaning to catch sight of one half-lidded
eye. “You sure?” “Yes!” the elf class=GramE>snarled, his eyes ablaze. He caught himself at the sound
of his voice and grimaced. “Yes.” This time it was quieter, though it was
clear the man still fumed. The orc
cautiously dropped his arms and stepped back, eying Gilvarin
from behind. After a half-second pause, the elf exhaled sharply and
straightened his neck, striding purposefully towards the cobbled road. Malton style='font-size:10.5pt;color:#000033'> hesitated, then
jogged up beside him. “Hawk was serious about getting Summerdrake,”
he said quietly. “She must still be nearby, she was
walking along the road right before…” Gilvarin’s style='font-size:10.5pt;color:#000033'> eyes flicked sideways at the class=SpellE>orc, who gave a vague shrug and trailed off when the elf
didn’t respond. Malton nervously rubbed his tongue
against one tusk and fiddled with his vest as he followed his friend to the
road. --___---__-__---___-- Trouble looms… | 