Short+Stories

Short story submissions shall go here.

The shrine was just comming into veiw on the horizon as Lancor made his way home from another failure. This was the fourth time in a row that he had failed to complete his task, the Hunter would be angry with him. Lancor sighed, the Hunter was always comparing his shortcoming to some unspoken expectations. Expectations that Lancor was obviously unable to live up to, maybe it had something to do with his parents. Lancor had been a servant of the Hunter by birth more than by choice because his parents had been die hard followers of the god. They had died before Lancor was even old enough to remember them and left him to be raised by the Hunter. The Hunter was always going on about how they had been the most "loyal" and "worthy" of servans and why couldn't Lancor be more like them. There hadn't been a moment since he took the oath that Lancor hadn't regreted his foolishness. Lancor scratched at the oath ring on his finger. Lancor arrived at the steps of the shrine and stood looking up the grey stone staircase.They were large and crude which made it very easy to bruise ones shin on them. Summoning his courage, he ascended th steps up to the shrine, ready to face the Hunter. He approached the black altar in the center of the room. It was inscribe with pictographs of the Hunter's deeds with captions in the old language. A red cloth covered the surface of the altar, and on it a single candle with a silver stick burned, giving off a pleasant herbal aroma. The walls, celing, and floors were made of the same grey rock as the stairs. Strange tapestries of dark creatures which seemed to have some kinship with the Hunter decorated the walls. There were two open doorways, one on the right which lead to the Hunters chambers, and the one on the left that lead to the servants quarters. Lancor knelt by the altar and waited for the Hunter to notice his presence. //C//. //B. Smith//
 * The Hunter's Game: Chapter 1 (this is the first chapter of an on going story submitted for your consideration)**

It was only a few moments until the Hunter was looming over him from the other side of the altar. Like all of the divinly powerful Terruer lords, His skin was jet black and tough as leather, covered only by a hood-less green cloak and a pair of dark brown trousers His red eyes flashed angerly when he saw Lancor was empty handed again. The Hunter shook his head so that the long antlers that always adorned his head, making his 6ft stature all the more dauting, so they threatened to knock the the candle over. He pointed a clawed hand at Lancor and bellowed, "Tell me you have not failed, again" His deep voice echoing ominously through the chamber. The Hunter gave a snort of contempt when Lancor meerly cowered. Lancor did not miss that the Hunter had his powerful spear in hand. Lancor feared the touch of it's sharp black tip almost as much as he feared the Hunter himself. The Hunter was known for storing magical energy in the spear to allow him to cast powerful spells on the spot which normally would take days of preparation. Mostly he used it to disciplne his servants or torture his enemies. Lancor had heard a story about a man tasked by the Hunter to transport an important item. On the way the man fell asleep before reach his objective and upon awakening discovered the object gone. The Hunter cursed the man to never sleep again and, if memory served, the man ended up throwing himself off a cliff. Lancor fervently hoped he would not be the next to be cursed by the Hunter. "What am I going to do with you Lancor. You seem incapable of completeing even the simplest of tasks." The Hunter gave a sigh of resignation "You fail as a warrior, a diplomat, a theif, a mage, and as a recruiter. The stupidest of my hounds is more useful than you..." The Hunter paused as if pondering his last statement and began to fiddle with his spear absent mindedly the way a wayward stundent might fidle with a pencil. Lancor's fears rose at the meer mention of the Hunter's Hounds, better known a the Hounds of Gallel for Gallel was the Hunter's birthname. He shuddered at the thought of the horrible wolf-like men of terrible strength and greater stupidity who served the Hunter. //C. B. Smith// //P.S:// I would really appreciate some feedback on what I have submitted.
 * The Hunter's Game: Chapter 2**

"Go wait in your quarters, I shall summon you when I'm ready to resume this conversation." At the the Hunter left Lancor and returned to his own chambers. While Lancor spent a sleepless night wondering what his fate would be, the Hunter was in his libray working out his plans for Lancor. While speaking with Lancor, the Hunter had been inspired with and idea that had never before graced his mind with its presence. The Hounds were strong and powerful, but not very useful on account of their stupidity, they had be instructed on exactly what to do and how to do in the simplest terms possibly, and even then they had little competency. They did have a telepathic ablity to communicate, but only among their own kind. The Hounds were not originally of the Hunter's design, they had been created by a much older Terreuric lord. When their creator died, which was not a common occurence for Terreurs being unaging, the Hunter had adopted them. At the time they had been mostly human and highly intelligent, unfortunatly over generations of bad blood and inbreeding they had become much more wolf-like and stupid, some had even taken to walking on all fours. It was to the point where the Hounds lack of intelligence had become an irreversible part of their nature. Yet for all the problems with the hounds, Lancor had to opposite. He was intelligent, though not overly so, but not very strong or skillful. If he could combine the best of each he would have the perfect servant. By using a complicate spell the Hunter could give Lancor the body of a Hound without sacrificing his mind. Yet it could not be a perminate change for with body comes nature and that would defeat the purpose, it made most sense to use a day and night switch. It would work well, at least in theory. The Hunter already knew how to put Lancor to use if this plan worked. He had neither forgotten nor forgiven a few certain worshipers of Arkra, another Terreur lord whoose domain overlapped the Hunter's, that had raided his shrine and murdered his followers. The Hunter could not help but reminisce about when Arkra had been his mentor. She had taught him, as well as his fellow students, all he knew about magic and spellweaving. Yet since the Hunter had graduated from her schooling she had grown mad with power. She convinced her followers she was omnipresent which she wasn't, no Terreur was. The Hunter would show Arkra there were limits to whay she could do by sending Lancor to avenge his parents in blood of the people resonsible for their death. //C. B. Smith//
 * The Hunter's Game: Chapter 3**