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Glory Hound (standard:fantasy, 539 words)
Author: BanovAdded: Jan 28 2008Views/Reads: 1394/0Story 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.


   


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