VoyForums
[ Show ]
Support VoyForums
[ Shrink ]
VoyForums Announcement: Programming and providing support for this service has been a labor of love since 1997. We are one of the few services online who values our users' privacy, and have never sold your information. We have even fought hard to defend your privacy in legal cases; however, we've done it with almost no financial support -- paying out of pocket to continue providing the service. Due to the issues imposed on us by advertisers, we also stopped hosting most ads on the forums many years ago. We hope you appreciate our efforts.

Show your support by donating any amount. (Note: We are still technically a for-profit company, so your contribution is not tax-deductible.) PayPal Acct: Feedback:

Donate to VoyForums (PayPal):

[ Login ] [ Main index ] [ Post a new message ] [ Search | Check update time | Archives: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, [9], 10 ]

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Date Posted: 20:47:07 12/02/01 Sun
Author: Tristan
Subject: Running out of fuel
In reply to: Corum, Valhorek, & Erlic 's message, "Common interests" on 20:13:31 11/29/01 Thu

Tristan was a little taken aback when Marz growled at him and made him sit down on the ground. He really didn’t think he’d been injured that badly, but neither did he bother to try and push Marz off of him. In reality, he was still recovering from the sheer adrenaline rush of battle, and his excited brain could scarcely even register the wound in his side. And any sign of weakness he may have started to experience he blamed on the exertions of the fight.

His eyes widened with concern when he saw the bloody red streaks on Marz’s shoulders as he quickly removed his shirt. I did that, he thought, his horror mounting with each passing second. The awful knowledge that he’d inflicted physical pain on Marz began to hurt worse than the wound in his side starting to cramp his belly. He should have never entered that battle in the first place, not with a rider on his back. Because of his stupid tendency to throw caution to the wind while in dragon form, Marz had now been injured by Tristan’s own hands.

He listened stupidly to what Marz was saying about getting the healer, when suddenly a loud cry from above snagged both their attentions. Tristan growled, a low, inhuman sound in his throat, as he watched the group of vultures drop toward the ground and wing towards them. He fumbled for his sword and tried to leap to his feet all in one motion, but he was struck by a strange sense of vertigo, making him stumble to fall back unceremoniously on his ass.

“Don’t be a hero!” he called, watching with half-angry, half-worried eyes as Marz threw himself bodily into the mess of enemies, decapitating one and nearly gutting another. Tristan tried to stand again and succeeded, but as he clenched his fists and thought about changing, he realized it was too risky. Marz was currently practically wrestling with one of the vultures on the ground, his sword tossed haphazardly aside as if forgotten.

He was trying to figure out how best to kill the thing without hurting Marz when a sound off to his right made him turn his head. He sighed with relief to see Corum hopping off his grounded roc and racing toward the scene, his staff raised and ready. Glad that they would be having additional help fending off the remaining vultures near the ground, Tristan closed his eyes and tried to change.

It responded more sluggishly than usual, but other than that, he felt good as new once he was back in his dragon body. He bounded eagerly toward Corum, who was trying to help Marz, and scarcely even noticed the slight stitch in his side now. A screech above him made him glance up, and he pressed his body low to the ground, flexing his claws in preparation for the oncoming vulture. The rational part of his brain told him to be careful and not go too crazy, but the dragon part of him was still lusting after the hunt. He snorted in surprise, a cloud of grayish smoke rising from his nostrils, as he watched the talking skull tagging along with Corum slam itself into the vulture, sending the creature toppling off course.

Tristan whipped his body around and pounced on the giant bird, which had landed behind him, before it had a chance to right itself. He crunched down on the neck with his powerful jaws, killing it swiftly the same way he’d killed the one that had clawed him in the side. He was about to sit back and trumpet his success when yet another shout of warning diverted his attention.

It was partly because Barry had just saved his life, but partly also because he couldn’t ignore that old predatory instinct that Tristan leapt into the air and chased after the vulture carrying the skull in its clutches. Each beat of his wings caused the injury to ache, but he ignored it, keeping his glowing red eyes focused on his prey. Within seconds he had caught up with the vulture, and he twisted his body around so he could grab it with all four claws. The creature had only enough time to squawk in fear as he bit down on its head and exhaled a lung-full of fire into its face. As there was now little left of its neck and head besides a smoking, black husk, Tristan released the dead vulture, whose claws had finally released poor Barry, whose eyeball looked to be in fairly bad shape.

Tristan landed heavily on the ground again, a grunt escaping him as he did so. He shifted back into human shape, because he remembered Marz saying something about the healer, and he didn’t think the healer knew how to tend dragons. A wave of weariness poured over him as he stood blinking dazedly, the pain leaping back up to jab him mercilessly with each beat of his heart. Should have stayed a dragon, he growled to himself, pressing a hand to the blood-soaked impromptu bandage Marz had created. He started to make his way over to his lover and his friend but stopped when he saw they were already approaching him.

“So, like, what happened?” Corum asked, while Marz leaned against him a little. Tristan stared at both of them, not liking the blackness that was starting to wash over his eyes every few seconds and shook his head.

“I saved your skull---your other skull,” he answered, glancing at Yorik. He winced a little and squeezed his eyes shut momentarily. “I’m going to sit down now,” he added softly, and he did just that, almost collapsing on the hot sand. He stared morosely at Marz, who looked absolutely awful, cuts and gashes bleeding from all different parts of his body.

Why can’t we ever do things the simple way? he thought with a sigh. It suddenly occurred to him that he probably wouldn’t have the energy to shift back into dragon form. Unless all the others were willing to wait a bit longer, somebody else would have to carry Marz. The thought plagued him, but it was quickly replaced by an equally upsetting one. He would have to ride on something else as well. It was almost too humiliating to even think about.

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]
Forum timezone: GMT-6
VF Version: 3.00b, ConfDB:
Before posting please read our privacy policy.
VoyForums(tm) is a Free Service from Voyager Info-Systems.
Copyright © 1998-2019 Voyager Info-Systems. All Rights Reserved.