A Tae'daen Tale

KLANG. Gorban's last piece of tattered armour fell off as he ran towards the
biggest stone on the slope, the sounds of the battle slowly fading.
Finally, having reached his safe haven, he quickly hid behind the looming form,
pressing against the cold surface and trying his best to fade completely into
its shadow.
"I...I can't do this.", he panted. "I tried...I am sorry, all. I couldn't stay
there." He slowly reached and patted down himself, his small paws checking his
orange fur, seeing if any of the blood that poisoned his nose was his. Finally,
he also patted down his bushy tail, and checking out the stump where once its
end was.
"No...damn. Damn them! My tail!"
He sighed heavily, and leaning against the comforting form of the old rock, his
big, white ears perked up, listening for a sign of battle.
Muttering "I wonder what happened" under his breath, the fox-kin slowly peeked
out from his hiding-place, checking the once-green, now blood-red and
earthy-brown
field where his unit of furrikin and the scouting-troop of Magnagora found each
other and duked it out.
Suddenly, a shadow, a low howl and a crash. The rock burst, cut in two, and a
dark figure pushed aside the sorry remains of the once great monument.
"You...I'll skin you and use your fur as leather for our grunts." Two gruesome
horns portruded forth from the steel-clad figure, on each one a dozen skulls,
dangling
from the sudden movement. "I'll show you why the guard are the strongest
warriors in the realm!" With the last words, the Taurian bellowed, rising anger
mixed with
cold routine, and lifted his giant, jewel-adorned scimitars high over his head.
"PRAY TO YOUR CREATOR!"
But Gorban didn't hear the last sentence anymore, his panting drowning out all
other sounds as he raced upwards towards the top of the hill.
"No, I can't die now! I CAN'T! I need to alert the village!"
Suddenly, the world around him seemed to slow down, just as he reached the top
of the hill. As his whiskers suddenly started to itch, he knew what he had
coming.
"Magic."
"MAGIC?!"
Reaching the top of the Hill, he turned around, wide eyed and terrified.
Just a few metres beneath him, the Taurian stood, having kept pace with him
without a problem, the armour seemingly weighing nothing to him.
The Ur'guards hands were raised, and as he pointed his right arm at the
unfortunate Furrikin, snakelike shadows shot forth, wriggling around Gorban's
body.
Suddenly, a crack could be heared, and just as Gorban realised what the
Taurian's intent was, he felt the all-drowning pain of the cross jerking his
whole body into the air,
cutting open his limbs and slicing his body.
Too paralysed by the pain, Gorban couldn't even scream. But something didn't
feel right. Just as he was regaining his senses, he heard something crack under
him, and just
as the Taurian raced in to finish his bloody handwork, Gorban felt like he was
slowly drifting down...and suddenly, the whole top of the hill seemed to
crumble unto
itself, burying both the unlucky Furrikin and his malicious hunter under a pile
of debris. As the last of the shadowy Magic faded around Gorban, he started
pushing off
the rocks that hindered him from standing up as a shadow shifted itself in
front of the setting sun, blocking Gorban's eyesight completely for a split
second.
"Time to die."
As Gorban raised his arm in defense against the last, fatal strike of the dark
bringer of destruction, he felt a small stone falling off of his arm.
For a few moments all that could be heard was the small rock rolling down the
small heap of stones and pieces of earth, and just before he
heard the scimitars cutting through air, he swore he could hear a small DING.

And suddenly, all happened at once.
The pile of rocks under them exploded, throwing both the Taurian and the
Furrikin into the air, and just before Gorban could gasp for a breath of
relief,
a big claw closed around his throat, cutting off all chances to fill his lungs.
Through a haze of red fog spiraling in front of his eyes, Gorbar could see that
his opponent was in the same, unfortunate position, his scimitars looking far
less threatening
lieing on the floor far out of his reach.
Holding them both was a giant, creature. Looking upwards from his claws, Gorbar
first saw long, shaggy brown fur, then arms adorned by muscles looking like
melons put into a bag,
then long, sharp teeth and finally a face with one, glowing red eye.
*A...Tae'dae? But..how...so big...*
A deep growl seemed to come out of the Tae'dae's throat, slowly transforming
into words.
"Who...dares wake Ruthaur?"
Waving his arms in a desperate attempt to earn the monsters attention, Gorban
saw a glimpse of a chance to survive this day of Bloodshed and regret.
Apruptly turning his head, the single eye focused on the Furrikin's face, and
the little fox could feel that the claws relaxed a bit, allowing him to breath
slightly.
"s...Sir. I am G..Gorban from the..the tribe of Estelbar. This..this Ur'guard
tried t..."
Ruthaur's eye suddenly seemed to flare, he dropped the Furrikin and focused
entirely onto the unfortunate Taurian still struggling against the iron grip of
the bear.
"You are Magnagoran?"
It was more a statement than a question, and suddenly Ruthaur hurled the bull
towards his swords as if he was a paper doll.
"To the Death. I have a debt to repay."
Forgetting his barely passed trial, the Taurian scooped up the scimitars in the
batt of an eyelash and already went into a comfortable position.
The Tae'dae slowly bowed down, pushing a aslaran-sized piece of rock away with
but a single move of his powerful arm, and picked up the biggest pair of flails
the Furrikin had ever laid eyes upon.
"Tell me your name, kid."
The words, though still nothing more than the sound of an avalanche in a small
valley, now came easier.
"I am ur'Marshal Geralvic, Knight of the Ur'guard."
"Your opponent is Ruthaur, son of Ruser, Embodiment of Tae, Chief of
Ackleberry."
The Taurian suddenly stopped pacing around his taller opponent, and his voice
dripping with disbelief, echoed from under his helm, "Ackleberry? But
Ackleberry is..."
Ruthaur did not need more than this second of distraction to jerk his arms
forward, and suddenly piles of rock flew through the room as six steel-balls,
each one the size of an elfens head and far heavier, sailed forward, three
bound to each flail by strong, steel-made chains.
The Taurian, expecting a ruse, raised his scimitars in defense...and let loose
a squeak of surprise as the balls shattered his scimitars and, the ancient
runes on each ball glowing with magic, hit him square into the chest and head.
After Ruthaur had cleaned his weapons from the gore that the heap of bones,
armour and blood on one end of the room had left on them, he remembered the
Furrikin. Grabbing him by the neck just as he tried to sneak out of his
cave...well, not cave any longer, now that the ceiling was destroyed, Ruthaur
sat Gorban onto a rock, and letting the Furrikin drop to the ground in front of
him.
"Now that the Magnagoran is dealt with....tell me about Ackleberry, little
cousin."