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A Winters Night

User Thread
 37yrs • M •
BaconBeast is new to Captain Cynic and has less than 15 posts. New members have certain restrictions and must fill in CAPTCHAs to use various parts of the site.
A Winters Night
This is the beginning of a story that I have started. Have a read hope you enjoy. All feedback is much appreciated.

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The light icy wind weaved its way through the frigid alpine oaks, down to the frozen banks of the river Isella, and high up to the base of Mount Evamont, gently immobilizing any living creature that it's blue artic hands could wrap around. The suns presence was barely noticeable in the sea of dark malevolent thunderclouds that almost seemed to touch some of the highest tree's the area had to offer.

Slumped against one of these trees, in a exhausted heap was Merdin. Merdin had unusually long hair for an Elven Rouge of his age, and it was evident that he was quite dissimilar to any Elf back at Darnassus, I guess that's why he was here, out of reach from the Elven's harsh and sometimes egregious comments that continually shattered his happiness. His roughly textured hair had been entwined with twigs, slush and cold lumps of snow, that sometimes slipped under his soft leathered tunic and to his great annoyance lay firmly wedged on his sore wearied back.

As Merdin gave his body a period of rest, he notice the gently falling snow flakes that twisted and rotated in a most amiable fashion descending towards him and his partner that lay in the midst of the unknown. It was a complete antithesis to the perilous feelings that the rain gave him, the cold splash of a drop on his cheek trickled a dull sense of danger that spread throughout his consciousness. Rather, the snow made him feel a calming and comforting peace that resided deep within him, almost vocally telling him that everything would be ok. Somehow Merdin didn't think they'd be ok. But he'd never let Ayla know of his thoughts.


He looked down at Ayla, his sweet nurturing, lovable Ayla, who lay nestled between his legs. Her delicate slender back comfortably rested on his chest. He didn't want to sound depressed as though their death in Dun Morogh was inevitable, so he attempted to converse in a normal fashion.

'How are you feeling? Do you think you can continue walking for a short while?' Merdin queried her in an empathetic tone.

'I'm alright, the weather doesn't look too good though, perhaps we should stop here for the night. It would be best, I'm afraid if we continue, our tiredness will make us vulnerable to attack, we don't know what type of dangerous creatures are around here Merdin, it's not like home..... not like safe home.'

Before she could barely finish her sentence she drifted off into a sort off melancholic reminiscent state. For the last few days, their past life at Darnassus kept springing into her mind, it always brought a tear to her eye. Knowing that she'd given it all up... for this. For this cold, remorseless death she was almost certain to face, if they couldn't find temporary shelter at Ironforge, and even that had it's likely dangers. The dwarfs had a reputation of being unfriendly to visitors, even those about to perish in the surrounding snow.

Her wandering murmurs, also reminded him off their safe sound cabin, nestled among the sanctuary of their village back home. However this was not the time to reminisce. Internally convinced that they should continue, he battled his reasoning with his concern for Ayla. If she felt that they should stay, it was worth considering, she was normally right after all....however, that was on different matters, this was his decision, as he was the one trained as a elven rouge.

'I'm not too tired Ayla, I feel like continuing. Besides, I don't think setting up camp here would be a good idea, this hill is too exposed to the winds, and if any hunters have been following us, they'll be able to see us far too easily.'

Merdin peered down at her frail white body, she almost looked one with her surroundings. She didn't have the same resilience to harsh weather conditions like he did, maybe it is the right solution to stop for the night. Yes, they can't risk it.

Merdin muffled out a torturous groan, he hated compromising, he was a stubborn character.

'Let's just walk down to the banks of the river, we should be able to find a safer place to rest there.'

'Alright'. Mollified, Ayla demurely kissed him on the cheek. It was a pleasant thought, Merdin pondered, that amongst all perilous disaster, she could still be loving and playful.

Merdin could barely recognize her voice, the winds were almost polar temperature now, and there was a continuous screeching whistle that echoed from tree to tree, carrying with it the intimidating force of the wind.

Once they were standing, they began traversing down into the valley. The specious winds propelling force, was so powerful it almost pushed them over small cliffs at times.

Ayla dwelt on their chances of survival, and she grew scared. The roaring winds, and escalating magnitude of rain was all contributing to her hurried pace down the valley. Semi frozen raindrops, plummeted down without cause, only to be found by the tenacious winds that drove them into the pair like icy bullets. Each one pushing her further and further ahead of the equally worried Merdin.

A low grey mist began to nestle itself at a low altitude. Maliciously spreading like a blanket that speciously lay around the unsuspecting valley. Merdin could barely determine whether the dark shape twenty paces in front of him, was in fact his beloved Ayla, or an oddly shaped tree.

All of a sudden, he heard Ayla scream, initially he wasn't sure if it was the howling wind, but it sounded again. And again. Growing louder and fiercer in the demand for help. Reality precipitously kicked in, something awful had happen to his Ayla. He began clumsily trudging through the deep snow, each leg sinking fifteen inches deep.
The desire to scream out loud in agony was far more powerful than whatever restraint he had left.

He let out an excruciating shriek that echoed out into the void.

Where was she?

Reaching a particularly slender oak tree. Merdin stopped to take a deep breath that funneled the freezing air down into his chest. He peered out to his right, and scanned the white emptiness. The sound of crunching snow to his right, triggered an explosive turn of the head, he looked on with hope, expecting to see a sign of life. To see Ayla walking. But all that remained was his gentle Ayla lying face down, emaciated in a pool of red snow.

There she lay, no longer brindled by the icy cold winds, the flesh piercing raindrops and the evil aura that this forest seemed to manifest. She was dead. Shock hit Merdin harder than a whirlwind of attacks from the biggest Tauren imaginable. A pained gasp escaped him, she was dead, she was dead, and she was dead. Before Merdin could drop down into the snow and weep, he heard the crunching sound of snow again.

Instinct kicked in. Merdin quickly turned stealth. His physical presence was now a complete mystery to the perpetrator. Anger, hate and a want of the most grotesque revenge swirled around in his head, constantly reminding him that his dear Ayla had perished. Whoever this sick creature is, he shall die the most painful death possible.
Merdin lunged out of the security that the slender oak tree offered. He didn't need it now, he was undetectable.

Ten feet away he saw the killer, it was a frostmane troll. His long white hair perfectly matching his two razor sharp tusks that unnaturally extended from his face. Neither the share size of the beasts tusks nor the intimidating gushes of air pumping from his nostrils could stop Merdin now. In Merdin mind the beast was murderer of the most vile and sick nature. Fuelled with the most instinctual rage, Merdin sprinted up behind the trolls back, and drove his 8 inch dagger into the beasts spinal cord.

A frightening series of pained roars echoed throughout the forest, each one bringing the troll closer to death, and each one satisfying Merdin's revenge more and more. The trolls wasted body dropped to the snow. His beast like back was covered in warm blood, oozing from the various entrances that the blade had made.

Satisfied and empty.
He began to weep in the unforgiving snow.
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 35yrs • M •
A CTL of 1 means that l2 () l3 is a contributing member of Captain Cynic.
Very nice. It reminds me of Hemmingway how you put so much detail. Keep going, it's really well written. Im looking forward to see the final copy

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"Life is just one damned thing after another."
A Winters Night
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