Theft (Part 1)

Chelkar felt yet another clumsy blow narrowly miss him, passing by his left ear, the sound drumming. His role apparently un-timed by his standards, almost flung him two hundred metres into the rocks below. The Volograd quickly got on his knees again, not daring to look down from the edge of which he stood. Eyeing him, Gansu got ready for another swing of his axe, the light of the moon providing it’s ghastly effect. Chelkar had only one spear left however, and was going to make this one the pick of his bad bunch. Quickly thrusting it out of his back pouch he took aim, only to have it cut in half by Gansu’s superior weapon. With the remains he darted into the beasts stomach, then slid under his legs, taking advantage of the slippery surface. Taking a swing upwards, hitting his tail sent the mighty beast soaring with rage.

Now unarmed, Chelkar quickly made a dash fifty metres to where his sword, Kirensk lay in await, its handle yearning for his masters touch. With the seven metre tall and four metre wide beast in pursuit, Chelkar quickly jumped and rolled away from where the sword rested less then a second ago. Gansu’s body now sprawled over its position, jumping after his next victim. Holding the sword, it once again shone, quickly jumping from the branches of three trees, rising to the height of the beast, he jumped over to greet Gansu. Grasping onto his thick hair, he raised Kirensk and trusted it into his neck, only delving just past his skin. With precision jumping only a Volograd had, he jumped onto the handle of his sword, perfectly balanced, allowing his weight to be the killer of Gansu. The sword now delved deep, smelling the taste of innards. A yelp echoed into the forest, fading, the forest famished enough to devour the beast’s plea, each tree getting their fair-share. Chelkar was now thrown off Ga nsu, who keeled over on his back. Looking up, he saw Gansu’s eyes, charcoal moons that were now dissolving into a puff of unwilling smoke. With this, he gave his last snort, causing the ground to stir, and the trees to shrivel.

His sword now being the only arsenal left in his array, his appreciating eyes gazed over its blue blade, its shine like the stars themselves. Using Kirensk as a mirror he watched as the unknown rattled behind him, drawing nearer. Quickly turning around he saw over three dozen more beasts lying in wait. He had just killed their Kings new born child.

He probably couldn’t have angered the beasts to a worse extent. A six-foot tall, black haired, and red-eyed man stood in front of the fury. His clothing drenched in blue, malice cloak and all, was all that stood between his heart and a well-aimed strike. The king prowled forward. Chelkar moved back. Seeing the stairs that came out of the lair, he gave a smile and wished for no more blood to be spilt. With his body bent and his senses shaking, a scream was yelped as he made his way hastily to his stairs of only hope.

Four at a time he ran up them, he moved as a leaping frog up the stairs, lily to lily, stone to stone. The Ganon’s were not to be forgotten; now chasing with what Chelkar hoped inferior speed. Not taking long to reach the top, Chelkar frantically searched his stilts, a blur of terror surrounding his mind, causing his forgetfulness. Finding them up a high tree, he began to use them. Strong enough to support his weight, yet flimsy enough to move with ease, made out of the finest Salg material in Armana Shire. Casting them under his shoulders, his arm muscles were strong enough to allow movement at a quicker pace.