Castle Shyr
folder
Fantasy & Science Fiction › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
30
Views:
1,518
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
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Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Fantasy & Science Fiction › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
30
Views:
1,518
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Repetition -1
Another shortie.. but again, more Tev, more Mordecai -so it\'s cool.
-Repetition-
“Sir! Captain Mordecai!”
Mordecai turned, dragging his blade along the throat of another hapless Nanion, to glare at the man who had interrupted him. He saw the soldier stumble and try to form a salute, though his arm looked rather mangled. The Nanion in Crawyn had been surprisingly well trained in combat, and were putting up much more of a fight than anticipated. However, it was nothing Mordecai couldn’t handle, his troupes, on the other hand, were doubtful, and no matter how hard he tried to focus on the task at hand, his mind kept regurgitating Rylee’s words.
“Some of the other men noticed a group of Nanion soldiers running off to the woods, just east of the Jir. Should we go after them, sir?”
Mordecai simply stared at the man, his blade poised at his side. As he had realized before, the stupidity of these idiots would never cease to amaze him. He watched as the soldier looked at him expectantly, waiting for an answer that he, somehow, was unable to give himself. Mordecai did not have the patience to deal with it. He turned and started back towards the village, still populated, however scarcely. He had come to do a job, and if the idiots assigned to him couldn’t figure things out on their own, he would just pick up their slack later, and kill them in their sleep: unless he found them on the battle field.
He couldn’t help but turn his ear backwards ever so slightly as he listened to the mindless prattle exchanged between the soldier who’d spoken, and the few men who’d followed him. He heard them discussing what Mordecai’s leave had meant, and almost felt sickened as they decided, on their own, to go after the fleeing group. Mordecai had almost wanted them to decide not to, just so that he could have the pleasure of slaughtering them later for their stupidity, however, nothing was stopping him from doing that anyway.
He turned his head and smacked into a Nanion woman, dashing around the corner so fast she hadn’t been looking where she was going.
“O-o-o-o!” She gasped, stepping backwards and falling to the bloodstained ground. Her apron was tattered and frayed, already more pink than white, and her blond hair was streaked with gore.
Mordecai spun his long sword, a weapon he very rarely used, and swung it forward in a wide arc, tensing his shoulders and pushing through the woman’s neck as the sword connected, then broke through her spine. He snapped the sword into his left hand as he pulled it away from the carcass, letting it poise at his side. He watched with little change in expression as the woman’s head rolled off towards the nearby corner, expression of horror still on her face.
He kicked the body aside as he walked forward, tossing the sword away as a new, and more formidable sight met his eyes. There was a small group of armed, rambunctious teenagers which seemed to be giving his men some trouble. He reached into his robes and once again produced his scythe-daggers, spinning them until they whistled in his hands.
He noticed one of the boys as the Nanion caught sight of him, and turned, running towards Mordecai with his dull weapon raised high, as if he actually believed he stood a chance. Mordecai was only slightly impressed as the boy blocked his first swing, but was unable to move to block the next. With his left-handed dagger stuck in the wooden pole of the boy’s weapon, Mordecai sliced open a large, gaping hole in the boy’s right side with his free dagger, lifting his foot and pushing the pole away to from his left. He watched as the boy, only a year or two younger than Mordecai himself, crumpled to his knees with his hands wrapped over his side, then hit the ground, struggling to put a brave expression on his face so that he might be discovered and claimed a hero. Mordecai snarled, running his tongue over his bottom lip where blood had gathered, not his own of course, and began to put away his daggers.
The halfling sighed as he heard another battle cry behind him and turned, blocking the new challenger with one hand while he again brought his daggers up in defense. Somehow, it was beginning to become repetitious.
-Repetition-
“Sir! Captain Mordecai!”
Mordecai turned, dragging his blade along the throat of another hapless Nanion, to glare at the man who had interrupted him. He saw the soldier stumble and try to form a salute, though his arm looked rather mangled. The Nanion in Crawyn had been surprisingly well trained in combat, and were putting up much more of a fight than anticipated. However, it was nothing Mordecai couldn’t handle, his troupes, on the other hand, were doubtful, and no matter how hard he tried to focus on the task at hand, his mind kept regurgitating Rylee’s words.
“Some of the other men noticed a group of Nanion soldiers running off to the woods, just east of the Jir. Should we go after them, sir?”
Mordecai simply stared at the man, his blade poised at his side. As he had realized before, the stupidity of these idiots would never cease to amaze him. He watched as the soldier looked at him expectantly, waiting for an answer that he, somehow, was unable to give himself. Mordecai did not have the patience to deal with it. He turned and started back towards the village, still populated, however scarcely. He had come to do a job, and if the idiots assigned to him couldn’t figure things out on their own, he would just pick up their slack later, and kill them in their sleep: unless he found them on the battle field.
He couldn’t help but turn his ear backwards ever so slightly as he listened to the mindless prattle exchanged between the soldier who’d spoken, and the few men who’d followed him. He heard them discussing what Mordecai’s leave had meant, and almost felt sickened as they decided, on their own, to go after the fleeing group. Mordecai had almost wanted them to decide not to, just so that he could have the pleasure of slaughtering them later for their stupidity, however, nothing was stopping him from doing that anyway.
He turned his head and smacked into a Nanion woman, dashing around the corner so fast she hadn’t been looking where she was going.
“O-o-o-o!” She gasped, stepping backwards and falling to the bloodstained ground. Her apron was tattered and frayed, already more pink than white, and her blond hair was streaked with gore.
Mordecai spun his long sword, a weapon he very rarely used, and swung it forward in a wide arc, tensing his shoulders and pushing through the woman’s neck as the sword connected, then broke through her spine. He snapped the sword into his left hand as he pulled it away from the carcass, letting it poise at his side. He watched with little change in expression as the woman’s head rolled off towards the nearby corner, expression of horror still on her face.
He kicked the body aside as he walked forward, tossing the sword away as a new, and more formidable sight met his eyes. There was a small group of armed, rambunctious teenagers which seemed to be giving his men some trouble. He reached into his robes and once again produced his scythe-daggers, spinning them until they whistled in his hands.
He noticed one of the boys as the Nanion caught sight of him, and turned, running towards Mordecai with his dull weapon raised high, as if he actually believed he stood a chance. Mordecai was only slightly impressed as the boy blocked his first swing, but was unable to move to block the next. With his left-handed dagger stuck in the wooden pole of the boy’s weapon, Mordecai sliced open a large, gaping hole in the boy’s right side with his free dagger, lifting his foot and pushing the pole away to from his left. He watched as the boy, only a year or two younger than Mordecai himself, crumpled to his knees with his hands wrapped over his side, then hit the ground, struggling to put a brave expression on his face so that he might be discovered and claimed a hero. Mordecai snarled, running his tongue over his bottom lip where blood had gathered, not his own of course, and began to put away his daggers.
The halfling sighed as he heard another battle cry behind him and turned, blocking the new challenger with one hand while he again brought his daggers up in defense. Somehow, it was beginning to become repetitious.