| Subject: Hum |
Author:
Beorn
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Date Posted: 18:03:19 04/09/02 Tue
The bartender strolls over to Beorn, a stein of ale in his outstretched hand.
"Scotch, eh? Ne'er even heard o' it. If ye're thirsty, mayhap ye should just have some plain ol' ale, eh?"
With a resigned grimace, Beorn takes the stein without a word and stares into it's swirling depths...
***
With a grimace, the young northman looked down at the mauled body of his hunting partner. The older warrior had been split nearly in two, and his body mangled almost beyond recognition. The stench of blood nearly overpowered him.
Bringing his spear up and to the ready, he stared wildly into the surrounding forest. This was the fourth body he'd found in the last hour - almost all of the hunting group was dead. He was left alone in this part of the woods, against the demon beast. The tribe's shaman, Blackhawk, was sure that five young hunters could easily slay the monster that had been devouring the local wildlife. Apparently, he was wrong...
A twig snapped sharply behind him, and he whirled about, letting his spear fly...
...Right through the chest of the other surviving hunter, Bors. The younger warrior stared down at the thick spear that had seemingly grown from his breast. It went nicely with the score of slash marks up and down his body. With a rasping breath, he collapsed face-first on the ground.
Staring down at the body of his fallen comrade, the hunter didn't hear the breathing, feel the breathing, until it was too late. He spun around, and-
***
With a yelp, Beorn goes tumbling off the stool, onto the floor, managing to drench his own face with the ale. Blinking rapidly, he stares at the bottom of the mug, almost swearing he could see burning eyes staring back at him.
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