Milawen: A Short Story

Hurried footsteps could be heard just outside the door. A concerned voice could be heard, “Captain, what happened? We heard the commotion outside.”

All i could hear was the faint yelp of a gravely injured man. As i looked around, i found the source of the adamant yelling.

The blue pearls on the knife's handle gleamed when Aloysius took the blade and moved, so quickly that only Ramesses' eyes could've caught the deadly descent. Seconds later, the man's mouth slid open in shock and Aloysius held out the knife. Gilbert, who took back his still-clean knife suspiciously, said, "Nice."

“No, not now..” She whispers to herself. She is close to the adult now. She absorbs the rest of her energy into flinging herself of a fallen tree, letting out a furious yell, and onto the adults shoulders. She reers back her hand with the stick, then stabbing him repeatedly in the neck. Blood squirts out of his neck. She stabs his vocal cord and blood goes everywhere, even in her smiling mouth. Blood stains her arms

He growled and looked at her with a pleading look,” So you've seen what she can do. She ready.” More creatures came around and he reloaded the gun, “We don’t have time for this argument right now. We’ll talk back at Station.” He went to shoot two more with a revolver and switched it out for a pistol.

“I found her near the spring and hid her under a tree. I was afraid the beast would return and finish her off, if I left her there.”

He staggered back. The hunter was preparing for another strike. He formed the buckler of light and scolded himself for not doing it before. This time, he caught both of the blades. He leapt backward and slashed his sword upward. The hunter flipped backward to avoid the blow.

“Fine, I won’t need it anyway,” he answers arrogantly. “I shall finish you with this!” pulling out a much larger sword from behind his back. Swiftly swinging the behemoth of a sword was easy for him. He was much stronger than the average man, I knew one cut from it, at the speed he was swinging it I could be finished. The armor he was wearing was as hard as diamond, he came prepared for a bloody bout.

The bandit bowed his head before quickly walking off with his treasures. Kragen gestured for one of the guards to go after him. The guard followed after the bandit carefully then cleanly executed him a slice to the throat.

His chest rose steadily, before with a quick flick of his wrist he tossed the hilt across the room- the clatter of its components hitting the ground send reverberations throughout the crypt that echoed up the stairs and out the same passageway he had entered. Were it any other place, and any other heirloom to part with, he would have acted as though this meant nothing. He would have maintained the facade of stoicism, but it was now that he allowed himself to crumble. With his head bowed to the floor and a hand bracing his form against the door frame.

The sword flies through the air and Sigorn nearly stumbles to the ground from the force of the swing. Warryn, done screaming for the time being, tries his hardest to get back to his sword. Sigorn mumbles and swears under his breath as he approaches and he swings his sword downward. Warryn, having dropped his shield and now wielding his sword with only his left hand, deflects the first blow, and the second blow, the third one he ducks out of the way and strikes at the Karstarks leg. This time his mark is true. Slicing, he cuts at the open spot in the armor, and the Karstark howls in pain as he stumbles

“Help!” A woman’s desperate cry pierced the trees to his left. Macduff wasn’t blind to the traps that thieves set up along the roads, so he

He left the city, with a new bow and arrows on his back. He couldn’t wait to surprise his younger brother with the gift he had just gotten him. When he

Just as we finished loading up the first zombie reached the people. Limping, the zombie reached out a grabbed the closest person who, unlike

My breathing slows as I eye the doe before me. I pull my arm back as I stand up from where I crouch behind a lush green tree. The spear I held in my hand is lightweight but can hit something with incredible speed and force. I take a stance while letting out a soft breath. I lunged. The spear flies from my hand, impaling the doe through the chest. It falls limp, its head lolling. I walk towards it, my wavy red skirt, high in the front and low in the back, sways as I walk towards the dead animal. I bend down to pick up the doe and I lug it over my shoulder. My double bladed spear is in its sheath on my belt. I begin to trudge back to the tavern. I’m a bartender and I provide the meat we serve. The woods are alive with twittering birds and