|Glory Hound (standard:fantasy, 539 words)|
|Author: Banov||Added: Jan 28 2008||Views/Reads: 1442/0||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|A heroic, heroic man saves a town from a dangerous beast for glory.|
The windows of the pub glowed in the night, a beacon for those lost in the darkness. Inside there was a racket; a new traveler had stirred up the customers. Monsters were becoming a problem for the small town. They had begun appearing around, and the citizens grew fearful. One lady had been attacked by a monster earlier, in fact. But a new traveler, appearing from no where, cleaved through the monster with his sword and saved the day. Now the pub was making a clamor at his appearance. His movements, his voice, his doings; he was in every way the hero that everybody had imagined as children. This hero was largely in blue garments, a feathered hat casting an enigmatic shadow over his eyes and a deep red cape hanging along his back, his sword sheathed under the cape. You must stay! Save us from the monsters! The hero heard the people's demands and he obliged. Standing on a table, he proclaimed that he would save the town and become a legend. Patrolling around at night, the hero happened upon a sickly girl, pale as snow and hardly standing. “Oh.” She grunted, “Please, sir, can you help me?” The hero asked what was wrong, alarmingly. He drew his sword quickly and swung it around in the darkness, seeking his enemy. He swore to destroy all the monsters and be a hero like a hero should, saving the defenseless damsel in distress. The girl slunk back. She seemed hesitant suddenly. “Never mind,” she said, “It's okay.” The hero refused to let it go. What could it be? He could save her, the hero proclaimed. He was going to be a hero and everybody would love him. “No.” She said firmly. She tried to take a step, but this made her shudder violently. With a pained scream she dropped down right in front of the hero, her hair growing thick as she expanded and her features grew more monstrous. The woman was a werewolf. The hero looked at her, a flame in his eyes. He would destroy her and save the town from her violent attacks. He was a hero. “You don't understand!” She said. “I'm not a monster! I can control myself! I just need somewhere to hide away for the night! Please, help me!” Genuine desperation filled her voice as she pleaded for compassion. The hero raised his sword, the metal glinting against the silver light of the moon. The monster's eyes widened. Filled with fear, she fought back. “Please, have mercy!” she shouted. They tumbled over and rolled and there was a great deal of flailing and motion and suddenly it stopped. The hero's blade had pierced the monster's heart. Her teeth had pierced the hero's arm carrying the sword. His opponent slowly fell to the ground, the sword still sticking out from her chest, having conquered this unwilling beast. The hero stood over his fallen enemy, his hand holding his wounded arm. The curse of the werewolf felt chilly in his blood as it circulated inside him. He had heroically saved the town from this sadistic monster; glory was his. His eyes having adjusted to the dark, he examined her more closely. It was his mother. Tweet
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