Post by žǛКأ ♪ on Feb 18, 2008 18:04:33 GMT -5
This is the beginning of something I was working on. I'm not sure how good it is, but I'd love feedback.
I guess what I love doing is describing things. XD
The broad shoulders of the blonde haired figure rippled as he gripped his huge sword in one hand. One could see the concentration in his clear green eyes. Focused intently upon his target, he shifted his weight onto his right dominant side as he got ready to strike. With one mighty yell he jumped and slashed at the giant snake in front of him. With a squeal, the snake fell flat onto the ground.
Grinning, the warrior backed up. He loosened his grip upon his sword and expected the creature to stay still. To his surprise, the creature twitched and stood up almost 6 feet in the air. It stared at its apponent for a moment, then noticing an apparent advantage of surprise, it lurched forward and aimed for his neck, a vital body part. Unluckily for the snake, its victim had great reflexes and jumped away just in time to only be bitten on the forearm. Reacting quickly, the warrior flipped out his sword and cut the snake in half. He grabbed onto its head and pryed its lifeless body off of his arm. In instinct, the head had clamped down as its last breath had been taken.
He threw it onto the ground and grimaced as he examined his wound. Luckily, he knew that this snake had not a large amount of poison. Just to be on the safe side, however, he put his mouth onto the wound and drew out a little of the blood. He spat it onto the ground. No matter how many times he tasted it, he always hated the taste of his own blood. That had always seemed humourous to him, considering his nature. Well, this blood may have been tainted anyway, so it mattered not if he wasted it. He chuckled a little. If he told anyone else of his action, they would be frustrated at the waste.
Swinging his enormous sword over his back, he put it into its holster. He frowned. He'd have to make a tourniquet. Sighing, he tore off a piece of his pant leg. Wrapping it tightly under his elbow, he noticed the snake's body had begun to turn to dust. Dissappointed that this hunt had not turned out to be a fruitful one, he decided to turn in for the night. He had noticed the first signs of dawn anyways, and knew he couldn't stay out for much longer. Gathering his long black trenchcoat around him, he walked off into the night.
"Perhaps tomorrow night..." he muttered to himself.
Kumo had always been the outcast of his kind. Where the others had dark hair, he had bright hair. When the others liked to socialize and gossip, he preferred to be alone. Where the others had an affinity for magic, he had a love of physical power. Not that he wasn't talented in the former, he just prefered using his own power to get things done. Then there was the thing about the blood. He had always disliked the taste of it. It was always too bitter. It just did not appeal to him at all.
Of course, to make matters more complicated, there were the humans. They had always fasinated him. They amused him more and more everyday. Wherein, he had spend a lot of time among them, and this made him more and more secluded from the ones of his own nature. Thus, he had always been used to being somewhat of a loner.
As he walked towards his home in a small farming town, he thought about how his instincts in battle had grown weaker. He should have known that one strike didnt take down his foe. But he had not senced any life in it. Discouraged, he didnt notice that he was already home. Looking up, he stared at his small cottage.
It had a brown shingled roof, a green door surrounded by two small windows that were almost overgrown by bushes in front of them, and was painted a darker shade of green than the door. He wondered if he'd have to trim the bushes before the town council got on his case about them. Then again, no one really seemed to bother with him much. He kept to himself, and they left him alone as well. He wondered if it was in fear, or just the nature of the people in the town. They didnt seem very involved with much. Shrugging, he decided not to dwell on those things right now. He'd best mend his arm.
He walked through his front door and muttered something in a strange language and held out his hand towards a candle on the small table just inside the doorway. Instantly, a small flame flickered on the candle's wick. He grabbed the candlestick and walked towards the back where his bed was. He searched in a drawer and found the things he needed to properly tend to the bite.
The small cottage that Kumo called home wasn't anything fancy, yet it was cozy and functionable. There were three rooms. A kitchen, a bathroom, and a living area. Most of the furniture was made of heavy oak, and durable. Much like Kumo himself. He preferred things that could stand the test of time, rather than the most fashionable things at the time. He had a round oak table and two matching chairs in the kitchen. The counters were clean and uncluttered. The only thing upon the stovetop were a cast iron frying pan and a stainless steel kettle.
The bathroom was off to the left of the house and it was painted in a faded blue colour with white toliet, sink and tub. The tub was the most interesting piece in the bathroom as it had the old fashioned lion feet.
In the living area, there was a large overstuffed armchair with faded violet covering. A bookcase with many books was placed beside the chair on the wall and on the opposite side of the chair was a small end table with a lamp and a book that looked as if it was in the middle of being read ontop of it. In front of the window a wooden bench was leaned against the wall. On it, there were 2 pots of an herb called nightshade. Beside it there were more books piled up. On the floor there was a soft grey throw rug, for the rest of the floors were hard wood.
On the far wall there was a heavy oak bed with a large stuffed mattress and many pillows lined against the head of the bed. On the wall above it was a bookshelf with books, photo frames and small statues of animals cluttered along it. There was a chest of drawers at the foot of the bed, facing the front of the house. There was not that much furniture, but with the small size of the house, it could not hold very much more. It was perfect for Kumo however. It suited him. It was uncluttered, just like he preferred his mind and life to be. He liked to be in charge of it all, and to be able to calculate exactly what was going to happen.
Kumo's stumach growled. He hadn't eaten anything yet. Frowning, he went to his small kitchen and searched for something suitable. Finding only bread and a small piece of ham, he became even more discouraged. He gobbled it up in two bites.
It had not been the best of nights for him. Nothing of value on his hunts, getting bitten, and now nothing to eat. He decided to go to bed without his usual exercises. In his foul mood, he couldnt concentrate properly anyway. Kicking off his boots, taking off his coat and his shirt, he lay down on his bed. At least it was soft. Looking at the windows and door to make sure they were shut tightly, he closed his eyes and waited for sleep to come.
I guess what I love doing is describing things. XD
The broad shoulders of the blonde haired figure rippled as he gripped his huge sword in one hand. One could see the concentration in his clear green eyes. Focused intently upon his target, he shifted his weight onto his right dominant side as he got ready to strike. With one mighty yell he jumped and slashed at the giant snake in front of him. With a squeal, the snake fell flat onto the ground.
Grinning, the warrior backed up. He loosened his grip upon his sword and expected the creature to stay still. To his surprise, the creature twitched and stood up almost 6 feet in the air. It stared at its apponent for a moment, then noticing an apparent advantage of surprise, it lurched forward and aimed for his neck, a vital body part. Unluckily for the snake, its victim had great reflexes and jumped away just in time to only be bitten on the forearm. Reacting quickly, the warrior flipped out his sword and cut the snake in half. He grabbed onto its head and pryed its lifeless body off of his arm. In instinct, the head had clamped down as its last breath had been taken.
He threw it onto the ground and grimaced as he examined his wound. Luckily, he knew that this snake had not a large amount of poison. Just to be on the safe side, however, he put his mouth onto the wound and drew out a little of the blood. He spat it onto the ground. No matter how many times he tasted it, he always hated the taste of his own blood. That had always seemed humourous to him, considering his nature. Well, this blood may have been tainted anyway, so it mattered not if he wasted it. He chuckled a little. If he told anyone else of his action, they would be frustrated at the waste.
Swinging his enormous sword over his back, he put it into its holster. He frowned. He'd have to make a tourniquet. Sighing, he tore off a piece of his pant leg. Wrapping it tightly under his elbow, he noticed the snake's body had begun to turn to dust. Dissappointed that this hunt had not turned out to be a fruitful one, he decided to turn in for the night. He had noticed the first signs of dawn anyways, and knew he couldn't stay out for much longer. Gathering his long black trenchcoat around him, he walked off into the night.
"Perhaps tomorrow night..." he muttered to himself.
Kumo had always been the outcast of his kind. Where the others had dark hair, he had bright hair. When the others liked to socialize and gossip, he preferred to be alone. Where the others had an affinity for magic, he had a love of physical power. Not that he wasn't talented in the former, he just prefered using his own power to get things done. Then there was the thing about the blood. He had always disliked the taste of it. It was always too bitter. It just did not appeal to him at all.
Of course, to make matters more complicated, there were the humans. They had always fasinated him. They amused him more and more everyday. Wherein, he had spend a lot of time among them, and this made him more and more secluded from the ones of his own nature. Thus, he had always been used to being somewhat of a loner.
As he walked towards his home in a small farming town, he thought about how his instincts in battle had grown weaker. He should have known that one strike didnt take down his foe. But he had not senced any life in it. Discouraged, he didnt notice that he was already home. Looking up, he stared at his small cottage.
It had a brown shingled roof, a green door surrounded by two small windows that were almost overgrown by bushes in front of them, and was painted a darker shade of green than the door. He wondered if he'd have to trim the bushes before the town council got on his case about them. Then again, no one really seemed to bother with him much. He kept to himself, and they left him alone as well. He wondered if it was in fear, or just the nature of the people in the town. They didnt seem very involved with much. Shrugging, he decided not to dwell on those things right now. He'd best mend his arm.
He walked through his front door and muttered something in a strange language and held out his hand towards a candle on the small table just inside the doorway. Instantly, a small flame flickered on the candle's wick. He grabbed the candlestick and walked towards the back where his bed was. He searched in a drawer and found the things he needed to properly tend to the bite.
The small cottage that Kumo called home wasn't anything fancy, yet it was cozy and functionable. There were three rooms. A kitchen, a bathroom, and a living area. Most of the furniture was made of heavy oak, and durable. Much like Kumo himself. He preferred things that could stand the test of time, rather than the most fashionable things at the time. He had a round oak table and two matching chairs in the kitchen. The counters were clean and uncluttered. The only thing upon the stovetop were a cast iron frying pan and a stainless steel kettle.
The bathroom was off to the left of the house and it was painted in a faded blue colour with white toliet, sink and tub. The tub was the most interesting piece in the bathroom as it had the old fashioned lion feet.
In the living area, there was a large overstuffed armchair with faded violet covering. A bookcase with many books was placed beside the chair on the wall and on the opposite side of the chair was a small end table with a lamp and a book that looked as if it was in the middle of being read ontop of it. In front of the window a wooden bench was leaned against the wall. On it, there were 2 pots of an herb called nightshade. Beside it there were more books piled up. On the floor there was a soft grey throw rug, for the rest of the floors were hard wood.
On the far wall there was a heavy oak bed with a large stuffed mattress and many pillows lined against the head of the bed. On the wall above it was a bookshelf with books, photo frames and small statues of animals cluttered along it. There was a chest of drawers at the foot of the bed, facing the front of the house. There was not that much furniture, but with the small size of the house, it could not hold very much more. It was perfect for Kumo however. It suited him. It was uncluttered, just like he preferred his mind and life to be. He liked to be in charge of it all, and to be able to calculate exactly what was going to happen.
Kumo's stumach growled. He hadn't eaten anything yet. Frowning, he went to his small kitchen and searched for something suitable. Finding only bread and a small piece of ham, he became even more discouraged. He gobbled it up in two bites.
It had not been the best of nights for him. Nothing of value on his hunts, getting bitten, and now nothing to eat. He decided to go to bed without his usual exercises. In his foul mood, he couldnt concentrate properly anyway. Kicking off his boots, taking off his coat and his shirt, he lay down on his bed. At least it was soft. Looking at the windows and door to make sure they were shut tightly, he closed his eyes and waited for sleep to come.
