The Demonic Creature
Crispin winced with pain as he ran further into the cave. Pain shot through his right leg with every step he took. By now, the swell on his ankle had worsened. The muscles on his left leg were sore from supporting his body weight. The thing was not far behind him. Silently, it moved through the maze of tunnels within the caverns with astonishing speed, tracking the injured elven hunter.
The tunnel before Crispin split into two ways again. The elven hunter paused only for a moment, then took the right one. He was relying on instinct now, the pain in his right leg already clouding his mind. Abruptly, he stopped running. This tunnel was wider and more spacious than the previous ones. It would do him no good to continue running. Sooner or later, the creature would catch up with him. It was here that the elven hunter would make his stand.
Crispin's eyes had already become accustomed to the darkness of the cave. Yet, it was still too dark to see clearly. The elven hunter strained his eyes, making use of his years of training to view the surroundings. The creature should have caught up with him by now. But where was it? Then he saw it. A huge massive form moved silently through the opening of the tunnel, dark and forbidding. It resembled a wolf, yet it couldn't be one, for it was much larger and its claws were about a foot long. Scales covered the entire body of the creature, like an impenetrable armour. Crispin immediately recognised it. It was a hellhound!
The elven hunter shuddered at the thought. He had heard of many stories about these terrible creatures. Few who saw it ever lived to tell the tale. Summoned from hell, these creatures never failed to carry out their master's bidding. They were the best at what they were summoned for, to hunt and kill. No one ever questioned their ferocity. Once a hellhound started a hunt, it would never give up.
Someone had ordered the hellhound to slaughter his entire patrol of elven hunters. But why? A dozen of elven hunters has set out that morning, making their way to the outskirts of the city, to the outpost they were to patrol. However, there was no sign of the previous shift of elven hunters. Upon searching, their bodies were found in the forest surrounding the outpost, or at least what remained of their bodies. Then, it came for them. One by one, his friends fell to the evil. Now, it had come for him.
In a flash, Crispin had drawn his broad sword. Even if he were to die, he would not give in easily, thought Crispin bitterly. Despite his injured ankle, the elven hunter made his way towards the hellhound steadily, sword glinting in his hands. It was a fight to the death and only one of them could come out alive.
Crispin winced with pain as he ran further into the cave. Pain shot through his right leg with every step he took. By now, the swell on his ankle had worsened. The muscles on his left leg were sore from supporting his body weight. The thing was not far behind him. Silently, it moved through the maze of tunnels within the caverns with astonishing speed, tracking the injured elven hunter.
The tunnel before Crispin split into two ways again. The elven hunter paused only for a moment, then took the right one. He was relying on instinct now, the pain in his right leg already clouding his mind. Abruptly, he stopped running. This tunnel was wider and more spacious than the previous ones. It would do him no good to continue running. Sooner or later, the creature would catch up with him. It was here that the elven hunter would make his stand.
Crispin's eyes had already become accustomed to the darkness of the cave. Yet, it was still too dark to see clearly. The elven hunter strained his eyes, making use of his years of training to view the surroundings. The creature should have caught up with him by now. But where was it? Then he saw it. A huge massive form moved silently through the opening of the tunnel, dark and forbidding. It resembled a wolf, yet it couldn't be one, for it was much larger and its claws were about a foot long. Scales covered the entire body of the creature, like an impenetrable armour. Crispin immediately recognised it. It was a hellhound!
The elven hunter shuddered at the thought. He had heard of many stories about these terrible creatures. Few who saw it ever lived to tell the tale. Summoned from hell, these creatures never failed to carry out their master's bidding. They were the best at what they were summoned for, to hunt and kill. No one ever questioned their ferocity. Once a hellhound started a hunt, it would never give up.
Someone had ordered the hellhound to slaughter his entire patrol of elven hunters. But why? A dozen of elven hunters has set out that morning, making their way to the outskirts of the city, to the outpost they were to patrol. However, there was no sign of the previous shift of elven hunters. Upon searching, their bodies were found in the forest surrounding the outpost, or at least what remained of their bodies. Then, it came for them. One by one, his friends fell to the evil. Now, it had come for him.
In a flash, Crispin had drawn his broad sword. Even if he were to die, he would not give in easily, thought Crispin bitterly. Despite his injured ankle, the elven hunter made his way towards the hellhound steadily, sword glinting in his hands. It was a fight to the death and only one of them could come out alive.