Short Stories And Fan Fiction From A Gamer

Agares Blightwood was a man of high integrity, an upholder of upright moral values and a loyal young man. He had slightly tanned skin and a silvery mane given to him by the gods, everyone called him the “Silver Wolf”. He could arguably be considered one of Ahngrim’s closest friends; they met on that very fateful day after the invasion of Oblivion Mountain. Unlike Ahngrim, he wasn’t wholeheartedly accepted by everyone just then. He was probably 8 and a half at that time, many rumors was floating around claiming Agares to be a Bastorian during that phase. Nevertheless, under the guidance of master Zephrius, he was polished into the good man and fine warrior he is now.

Sadly, tomorrow would be the day of reckoning for Ahngrim and him. Contrary to tradition, both of them had to compete with one another in a no holds barred duel, in which the winner would have the responsibility to fulfill the master’s duties after he passes on. It has been a tradition carried on since past times, having a deep place in Zephrius’s old heart. No one dared to defy old master Zephrius’s decision; everyone had to respect his decision. According to the annals, a master has to choose his successor from two of his best students when he feels that he has reach an old age and is not able to carry on soon.

Agares trotted towards the edge of the mountain, reflecting upon a big tree and praying for the heavens to show him a way. Though he knew such a thing would not happen, he was desperate for an answer. Questions continuously came to his mind as he stared into the beautiful crimson sky. “What should I do, Sigh. If only I wasn’t chosen as one of the duelists…” Agares was known to put others before himself; he would always try to please the ones around him and would do anything for the sake of his friends. There were times when paranoia would strike him; he always tried to appease the ones close to him.

“Creak”, the wooden door opened. Ahngrim entered, looking exhausted after a long day of training. He threw his blade onto the ground, blade first. The blade always seemed to sink itself into the same spot; he never missed it a single once. “Forgive me master…” he muttered to himself, while taking out a cigarette from the half filled packet. Ahngrim looked like he had finally come to a decision. He hastily went over to his cupboard, packed his things and then left for Death’s Gaze Tunnel at the other end of Oblivion Mountain. Everyone had been warned never to enter the tunnel, rumors saying that an ancient beast resided in there whereas others claim there to be the only path to the outside world. Of course, Ahngrim had better things to do than believing the former claim.

Little fragments of Ahngrim’s childhood kept reiterating in his mind; he had always wanted to find out more about his origins and heritage. Furthermore, he would rather be beaten to death than stand the fact that he would have to go into a duel with his best friend. The path to Death’s Gaze Tunnel was treacherous; rocky landscapes and narrow bridges, nothing any adventurer would like to encounter. Alas, after an hour of traveling, Ahngrim had finally reached the entrance of the tunnel, two stone sculptures of what seemed like gargoyles stood by the door with threatening ruby eyes. “Danger! Enter at your own risk” A signpost read. Ahngrim then smirked and laughed to himself. The atmosphere inside was different, it was almost pitch black but the flash light was sufficient to provide some navigation. He began to feel chillier as he traversed deeper into the tunnel, a bad stench also started developing, something just wasn’t right.

“Bang”, a loud shot was heard. In an instant, Ahngrim lost grip of Sciilatia, immediately placing his hand on his right shoulder. “Gah, what the hell?” Ahngrim mumbled, as he continued putting pressure on his wound. It appeared that Ahngrim had been wounded by some sort of projectile. “Who’s there? Whoever you are, show yourself now!” Ahngrim picked himself up, without much thinking he decided to leave Sciilatia behind and made a run for it. His right arm was just too weak to wield such a massive blade; he had rarely practiced his swordsmanship on his left arm either. It was also foolish of him to leave his sword strap behind at home. The moonlight was getting scarcer; he had to start relying on his other senses to make his way through and try to detect this hidden foe.

10 minutes of endless running and he had still not reached the end of the tunnel, how long more could he endure until succumbing to fear? He crouched down panting, trying to catch back his breath. He then heard a sound, the sound of a trigger about to be fired. Ahngrim quickly rolled over to his side, dodging the projectile. He was finally able to see his enemy. Dagger on his left, he charged towards the foe in a side winding manner. “Boom”, several shots were fired but none of them hit Ahngrim. With a final boosting step from his right leg, he propelled himself forward and plunged the dagger into his foe’s chest, instantly shattering the man’s ribs with the force.

“Fool…” He then took out his flash light and shined it onto his pursuer for a clearer view. Ahngrim then stood there, motionless and shocked.

This entry was posted on Sunday, August 20th, 2006 at 9:54 pm and is filed under Fiction. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.