| Subject: Tryin' to get back in the groove... |
Author:
Dakkan
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Date Posted: 00:42:47 03/30/04 Tue
I haven't written anything dramatic - or even fiction - recently...
I apologize to everybeast, but I have to get it out of my system before I go insane. Boring essay comin' up this week, y'see.
The tall, slender stoat stood quite still, watching the beam of moonlight change shape as the wind blew his tent flap. A dull brazen bong announced that somebeast had just tapped the gong that hung outside his tent.
"Enter," the stoat replied.
The canvas flap was thrust aside by another stoat. This one was about a head shorter, but also slender. An adolescent.
"You are close to completing your training, Surka," the tall one announced in a smooth, quiet voice.
The young stoat bowed, peering at the beast before him through the small slit in the black hood he wore. "Yes, Master." After a brief pause, he continued, "And then I will join the Warlord's elite."
The Master laughed heartily at his young student. "Join the Warlord's elite? You are merely a cub!" He drew his longblade and brought it to Surka's throat.
Under his hood, the young stoat's eyes flashed - just like his twin sai, which appeared like lightning. He trapped the longblade between the prongs of one sai and thrust it aside contemptuously. "You know I have the skill to do it." He meant his tone to be hard, but it cracked in the middle.
The Master noticed and chuckled again. "You cannot even control your own voice. I say you are much too young!" He brought the longblade back and tapped Surka on the side of his head with the flat.
Surka's temper flared at the insult. "I cannot control my voice, but I can control my limbs...much better than you can!!" He trapped the blade once more with his left-paw sai. Leaping forward with the speed of a whip, he drove the other sai deep into the Master's throat. The big stoat fell without a sound.
The Warlord was drinking merrily with his Captains when a gust of wind rushed into his tent and extinguished several candles.
There, at the open flap, stood a young hooded stoat.
"What d'ye want?" demanded the Warlord with a hint of irritation at being interrupted.
"I demand you accept me into your elite band of assassins!" Surka roared over the gale.
"And why would I admit a little whelp like you?"
Surka allowed a rare smile to cross his shaded face. "Because I have bested the Master!"
*feels fulfilled* Thank you.
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