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This is something I just started writing as something to fill out pages, but I'm liking it and will probably turn this in as my second story for creative writing. Any comments would be appreciated.
There’s never much to do in a town like this. It’s just so small. I mean, I can always looks forward to the rare raid, or rampaging horde, but those happen so infrequently that a good case of insanity is not out of the question at times. I like a good freak out at times; it clears the head. Well, after I wake up and find a half dozen or so villagers in various states of being, you know, horribly dead, then it clears my head, but not really before.
Of course, I’ve been told that during these dry-spell induced episodes I have been the very picture of polite. I never destroy more than one building (which I always help rebuild), and apparently my murderous rages target only a small, unspecific number of people each time. If there is any rhyme or reason to my selections, it’s been yet to make itself clear to me.
You’d think that all the deaths I cause would make these simple folk frightened and wary of me, and I suppose to a point this is true. These villagers spare me a few odd glances, but that is only to be expected. I think they would have long ago asked me to leave were it not for the invasions of the hordes, the Vikings, the murderous trolls, the demons, etc. alike. There seem to be less some years, and more others.
But my villagers know what I do for them. They’ve heard the stories of the villages without guardians, seen the trophies so horrible that they deny description. The irony is, of course, that some of the human invaders have been the more barbaric, although not all, obviously.
I may have my moments, which I’m not exactly thrilled about, but, all in all, having a guardian for this village is so much more important than having none. Now, if they would just stop making signs for warding off evil behind my back, perhaps I could properly find some more useful ways to amuse myself. Striding about endlessly, or standing still as a stone for days, even weeks at a time, it is no longer enough. This is why I am bored between raids and attacks.
It never used to be like this. I once watched over a single glade in this nice, serene little forest, for nearly two centuries. But now, I cannot remain stationary for more than a fortnight before becoming…antsy. It must be these villagers, these…humans. All my years of doing this, and they are making me like them in such a small number of passing seasons.
I must do something; I must find a new method of occupying myself between battles, for I fear that without change, I will one day awake from an episode to find that I have done far worse than any rabid pack of demons. Perhaps I should send one of my other to the elder sages, a wolf or one of the faster birds, whichever I can spare from the scouting paths. They’ll know what I should do. Perhaps I shall be assigned to a nice calm bridge or mountain pass. I wouldn’t get as many battles to fight, but maybe I could regain my calm, my sanity even, if I’m lucky.
An odd little woman approached me today as I overlooked the road leading from the east side of the village. Little being relative, of course. Even the tallest man comes only half way up my chest, or my breastplate, if I wore one. But this old woman, Triseus something she said, just walked up to me, her small, wicker basket swinging slowly in her wrinkled hands. Of all things, she thanked me for protecting the village, handed me a hand knit blanket, and asked me if I could kindly stop killing her friends and fellow villagers.
I stood there, silent for a moment, not knowing, or having, a response, and clutched the blue dyed blanket in one hand. I don’t know how she did it, but it perfectly matches the color of my fur. Regardless, I stood unmoving, and just stared at her, before finally nodding mutely.
One of my wolves I sent out came back today. The repositioning is a negative. It seems that the various marauding groups have increased their activities to the North, and the war to the South has intensified, hence guardians of my skill, suitable for protecting villages, are spread rather thin at this point. So, short answer is no. This is quite a setback for me, but duty is duty, and I will never fail in my duty.
Ever since she came by on that day, I have been studying this blanket with an odd curiosity. I have never seen such an intricate design in something so simple before, and the way in which the color so perfectly matches mine, it is simply astounding. I cannot determine with any certainty how this shade is produced. Blueberries are the only blue available that I am aware of, but its dye has never been quite like what my coloring is. And I doubt that she has any magic knowledge, for I would have sensed it, would have smelled it. I should begin to watch these humans more closely, I think.
I can’t believe that I’ve never truly watched these humans before now. Sure, I have ingrained in memory every battle tactic they use, every weakness, every shrieking face with the rictus of death upon it, but I have never simply stood and taken the time to watch them. Truth be told, they are often annoying creatures, callous and uncaring, with only themselves in mind. Although at times, perhaps I too could be accused of the same. Despite this, they are intricately amazing and disturbing, all at the same time. Their young ones most of all have such spirit and energy to them.
I stopped my patrol through the village this morning to watch the little ones in play. Such boundless energy and vigor to them, and such brazen recklessness. Some of the more worried villagers attempted to pull their children from the group, to hide them from me I suppose. But the little ones would have none of it and returned to their games. One little female human even boldly separated herself from the chaos to come over and ask me if, “Big Sir Kitty” wanted to play too. The fortitude of that one, as she looked up at me without hint of fear or anything at all amiss. Her eyes sparkled brightly as I squatted down to speak with her. My throat barely knew how to work, it being such a sustained time since I let loose so much as a war cry, but I managed to rumble out that I wasn’t much of the playing type, and that I shouldn’t leave my post for very long.
Still so much shorter than I, she gazed up to me, cocked her head to the side, and asked that, didn’t I have lots of “pretty birdies an’ doggies an’ kitties” to do that already. I admitted that I did, crude assessments aside, and before I could say more, she was beaming brighter than any creature that I have ever seen, and began pulling at my hand. I acquiesced, and allowed her to pull me among the now watching children. I could not comprehend what was required of me, but soon enough the female and others created many new games for me.
“Climb on kitty” seemed to be the favorite, as apparently I am, “the best twee evuh,” as one childling seemed to think. I heard several snickers from the villagers who had stopped to watch me. I wasn’t entirely sure whether to kill them all, or laugh myself, a rare happenstance I must admit. But the little ones were too quick to think up new games for me to do much of anything. God above, but these creatures never stop. If even a fraction of the multitudinous invaders had this kind of potency, surely there would not remain a single guardian or village left unscathed. A frightening thought to be sure, but I believe that these humans lose such drive as they age, although some of the demon hordes…
Oddly enough, the entire time that I spent “playing” with the little humans, I never once felt bored, or having the urge to have another episode. I am more than a little unnerved by that, but no more so than any of my ‘moments’ have done.
There’s never much to do in a town like this. It’s just so small. I mean, I can always looks forward to the rare raid, or rampaging horde, but those happen so infrequently that a good case of insanity is not out of the question at times. I like a good freak out at times; it clears the head. Well, after I wake up and find a half dozen or so villagers in various states of being, you know, horribly dead, then it clears my head, but not really before.
Of course, I’ve been told that during these dry-spell induced episodes I have been the very picture of polite. I never destroy more than one building (which I always help rebuild), and apparently my murderous rages target only a small, unspecific number of people each time. If there is any rhyme or reason to my selections, it’s been yet to make itself clear to me.
You’d think that all the deaths I cause would make these simple folk frightened and wary of me, and I suppose to a point this is true. These villagers spare me a few odd glances, but that is only to be expected. I think they would have long ago asked me to leave were it not for the invasions of the hordes, the Vikings, the murderous trolls, the demons, etc. alike. There seem to be less some years, and more others.
But my villagers know what I do for them. They’ve heard the stories of the villages without guardians, seen the trophies so horrible that they deny description. The irony is, of course, that some of the human invaders have been the more barbaric, although not all, obviously.
I may have my moments, which I’m not exactly thrilled about, but, all in all, having a guardian for this village is so much more important than having none. Now, if they would just stop making signs for warding off evil behind my back, perhaps I could properly find some more useful ways to amuse myself. Striding about endlessly, or standing still as a stone for days, even weeks at a time, it is no longer enough. This is why I am bored between raids and attacks.
It never used to be like this. I once watched over a single glade in this nice, serene little forest, for nearly two centuries. But now, I cannot remain stationary for more than a fortnight before becoming…antsy. It must be these villagers, these…humans. All my years of doing this, and they are making me like them in such a small number of passing seasons.
I must do something; I must find a new method of occupying myself between battles, for I fear that without change, I will one day awake from an episode to find that I have done far worse than any rabid pack of demons. Perhaps I should send one of my other to the elder sages, a wolf or one of the faster birds, whichever I can spare from the scouting paths. They’ll know what I should do. Perhaps I shall be assigned to a nice calm bridge or mountain pass. I wouldn’t get as many battles to fight, but maybe I could regain my calm, my sanity even, if I’m lucky.
An odd little woman approached me today as I overlooked the road leading from the east side of the village. Little being relative, of course. Even the tallest man comes only half way up my chest, or my breastplate, if I wore one. But this old woman, Triseus something she said, just walked up to me, her small, wicker basket swinging slowly in her wrinkled hands. Of all things, she thanked me for protecting the village, handed me a hand knit blanket, and asked me if I could kindly stop killing her friends and fellow villagers.
I stood there, silent for a moment, not knowing, or having, a response, and clutched the blue dyed blanket in one hand. I don’t know how she did it, but it perfectly matches the color of my fur. Regardless, I stood unmoving, and just stared at her, before finally nodding mutely.
One of my wolves I sent out came back today. The repositioning is a negative. It seems that the various marauding groups have increased their activities to the North, and the war to the South has intensified, hence guardians of my skill, suitable for protecting villages, are spread rather thin at this point. So, short answer is no. This is quite a setback for me, but duty is duty, and I will never fail in my duty.
Ever since she came by on that day, I have been studying this blanket with an odd curiosity. I have never seen such an intricate design in something so simple before, and the way in which the color so perfectly matches mine, it is simply astounding. I cannot determine with any certainty how this shade is produced. Blueberries are the only blue available that I am aware of, but its dye has never been quite like what my coloring is. And I doubt that she has any magic knowledge, for I would have sensed it, would have smelled it. I should begin to watch these humans more closely, I think.
I can’t believe that I’ve never truly watched these humans before now. Sure, I have ingrained in memory every battle tactic they use, every weakness, every shrieking face with the rictus of death upon it, but I have never simply stood and taken the time to watch them. Truth be told, they are often annoying creatures, callous and uncaring, with only themselves in mind. Although at times, perhaps I too could be accused of the same. Despite this, they are intricately amazing and disturbing, all at the same time. Their young ones most of all have such spirit and energy to them.
I stopped my patrol through the village this morning to watch the little ones in play. Such boundless energy and vigor to them, and such brazen recklessness. Some of the more worried villagers attempted to pull their children from the group, to hide them from me I suppose. But the little ones would have none of it and returned to their games. One little female human even boldly separated herself from the chaos to come over and ask me if, “Big Sir Kitty” wanted to play too. The fortitude of that one, as she looked up at me without hint of fear or anything at all amiss. Her eyes sparkled brightly as I squatted down to speak with her. My throat barely knew how to work, it being such a sustained time since I let loose so much as a war cry, but I managed to rumble out that I wasn’t much of the playing type, and that I shouldn’t leave my post for very long.
Still so much shorter than I, she gazed up to me, cocked her head to the side, and asked that, didn’t I have lots of “pretty birdies an’ doggies an’ kitties” to do that already. I admitted that I did, crude assessments aside, and before I could say more, she was beaming brighter than any creature that I have ever seen, and began pulling at my hand. I acquiesced, and allowed her to pull me among the now watching children. I could not comprehend what was required of me, but soon enough the female and others created many new games for me.
“Climb on kitty” seemed to be the favorite, as apparently I am, “the best twee evuh,” as one childling seemed to think. I heard several snickers from the villagers who had stopped to watch me. I wasn’t entirely sure whether to kill them all, or laugh myself, a rare happenstance I must admit. But the little ones were too quick to think up new games for me to do much of anything. God above, but these creatures never stop. If even a fraction of the multitudinous invaders had this kind of potency, surely there would not remain a single guardian or village left unscathed. A frightening thought to be sure, but I believe that these humans lose such drive as they age, although some of the demon hordes…
Oddly enough, the entire time that I spent “playing” with the little humans, I never once felt bored, or having the urge to have another episode. I am more than a little unnerved by that, but no more so than any of my ‘moments’ have done.
