mercredi 21 mars 2012


Sitting at the farthest table of the gloomy inn, a lone traveller was gulping the last bite of what used to be a big and juicy slab of meat. A strange aura was surrounding him, as if a dark curse had been cast across the room. Seeing that his meal was finished, the waitress reluctantly walked around the empty tables on her way towards the stranger. Most of the other customers had fled when the tall figure entered the inn an hour ago. 

“Would… eh… Would you like to order something else, good sir?” said the girl, her slender body shaking like a leaf ready to fall in the cold autumn wind.

“No, that would be all” answered the stranger, placing a gold coin on the table, covering more than what was due. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“The pleasure was… was… ours, sir”, replied the girl, running back to the kitchen without taking her payment.

Giltharak sighed at the view of the shiny coin still on the table. He placed another one next to it, rose to his feet and slowly walked to the door. Many times has he tried to appease the fear his presence instigated in the heart of others, but in vain. He was however glad that the owner of the inn, a big man tightly holding the shaft of his axe, had decided to stay where he was instead of attacking him. Taking a torch along the way, the traveller quietly slipped outside the inn and into the night, hoping the owner wouldn’t change his mind. Humans were very unpredictable at the sight of Giltharak. Towering at over seven feet tall, his body in itself was pretty imposing. However, his general appearance was considered frightful to most of the other races of Valipendir. 

The lone traveller walked for a few miles before lying down under a tree, far from the road. Giltharak pulled back his cowl, releasing his furry ears and snout from under the crude material. He was a Wahila, half Human, and half Wolf. Despite his feral look, his race was peaceful. The Great War that had started a few years ago had destroyed the island his people used to live on. Forced out of their only home, the Wahila scattered across the world, trying to find a new place to live. A few unfortunate souls were forced to fight alongside the Saanar’hi, a dark race which recently arrived on Valipendir. They used obscure magic to strip the strongest Wahilas of every trace of compassion, shaping them into unstoppable killing machines. As he looked at the stars above, a tear rolled down Giltharak’s face as memories of the carnage he had been forced to do came back to haunt him. If that young Human mage haven’t been there to break the spell, who knows what more atrocities he could have caused. Chasing those thoughts from his mind, the young Wahila slowly drifted to sleep, thinking about his sister Nerrivik, hidden somewhere in Valipendir, waiting for his return.

Edited to fix a few typos...

2 commentaires:

  1. Giltharak your writing in English is nothing to be snorted at! You write like Feist :)

    1. Thank you! I appreciate the good words. :)