Post by vermilition on Nov 20, 2006 11:35:48 GMT -5
this is just a little bit of character development
and yes you can technically say that my head character, Ironfur, is getting slightly soppy
(he hasnt been fighting so much so im using the time to show a different side of my favourite character...)
Ironfur put down the gun at the blacksmith's shop and left a scrawled note giving the smith permision to tinker with it.
Then he headed home.
He had been away for so long.
Fighting.
Was all that he was good at.
Turmoil followed him like a bad smell.
He looked at the door of his cave.
He had chosen it under the tree. It was tattered and battered, it hard ly had the strength to sit on its hinges.
'So pittiful,' thought ironfur, such a shame too, this happened every time.
He would work so hard that all else he had previously touched began to suffer from a lack of attention. He would fix this and all else.
He opened the door.
A flap of paper on the door was a note.
Nothing of terrible importance.
A form of newsletter. Detailing the packs expansion and the deaths of leaders.
Friend and foe.
He took it to his bed side and lit a candle.
He read it through.
Nothing much of interest.
Until he came to the fatalities.
A small mention for a pup named Lutherin. Ironfur had trained him, his training had served him well apparently.
Ironfur noticed he had been promoted to lead a small under cover incurtion to a human city to plant bombs under cover of night.
They had planted the forth bomb in a building when the humans encircled them.
The wolves couldnd get out in time.
Completly burnt.
Evaporated was a truer word.
Ironfur offered a silent prayer for the fallen warrior and then turned in for the night, snubbing the candle with his fingers...
and yes you can technically say that my head character, Ironfur, is getting slightly soppy
(he hasnt been fighting so much so im using the time to show a different side of my favourite character...)
Ironfur put down the gun at the blacksmith's shop and left a scrawled note giving the smith permision to tinker with it.
Then he headed home.
He had been away for so long.
Fighting.
Was all that he was good at.
Turmoil followed him like a bad smell.
He looked at the door of his cave.
He had chosen it under the tree. It was tattered and battered, it hard ly had the strength to sit on its hinges.
'So pittiful,' thought ironfur, such a shame too, this happened every time.
He would work so hard that all else he had previously touched began to suffer from a lack of attention. He would fix this and all else.
He opened the door.
A flap of paper on the door was a note.
Nothing of terrible importance.
A form of newsletter. Detailing the packs expansion and the deaths of leaders.
Friend and foe.
He took it to his bed side and lit a candle.
He read it through.
Nothing much of interest.
Until he came to the fatalities.
A small mention for a pup named Lutherin. Ironfur had trained him, his training had served him well apparently.
Ironfur noticed he had been promoted to lead a small under cover incurtion to a human city to plant bombs under cover of night.
They had planted the forth bomb in a building when the humans encircled them.
The wolves couldnd get out in time.
Completly burnt.
Evaporated was a truer word.
Ironfur offered a silent prayer for the fallen warrior and then turned in for the night, snubbing the candle with his fingers...