Slash, cut, and BURN. (closed)
Posted: Mon Dec 08, 2008 8:13 pm
A small, innocent little brown furred rabbit nibbled at a leaf on part of a line of undergrowth, blissfully going about having its lunch while the sound of birdsong and general forest life twittered on all around it. It was peaceful.. harmonious.. how a forest such as the northern woods should be.
Suddenly, there was a small snap, like a broken twig, and the rabbit's ears pricked up, instantly on edge. A few moments passed, and there was no other sound, so the rabbit forgot the noise and went back to chewing on a leaf. The next noise it heard was the last it would ever hear. A large sole of a steel boot came crashing down on its head, instantly splattering it and spraying the long grass and undergrowth with blood and bits of rabbit gore.
The owner of the boot gave a deep chuckle, before scraping the remains off onto the ground, before ploughing on, crushing plantlife in his wake. He is a tall, shadowy figure, his face darkened by a hood so only his chin and mouth can be made out, while behind him follow two others, equally shadowy in their appearances yet slightly shorter, wearing low hoods. Each figure carried slung over their shoulder a heavy sack containing some bulky material, which clunked, disrupting the quiet of the forest as they walked.
The larger figure came to a stop in a thick clump of trees, somewhere in the southern area of the forest, and unslung his bag, dropping to his knees to set up the wood. The others mimicked him, and began setting light fires in a semi circle round the clump of woodland, with one larger one burning in the centre. The larger figure sniffed his work, before turning his back to it as the fire began to eat away at trees, sending great billowing clouds of smoke up into the air.
He drew a knife, walking north from the fire before coming to a halt by a great oak tree which looked to possess a great age, its swirls and ridges almost giving off an impression of wisdom. A chuckle came from behind the hood, before he began slicing away at the bark ripping into the flesh of the tree, leaving roughly cut letters which eventually spelled out:
DEAR WITCH. THE MIGHTY TOWN OF TROLLSBANE BOWS ITS HEAD TO NO FOREST. LET THIS ACT PUT YOU IN YOUR PLACE AND REMIND YOU OF YOUR STATION. GET BACK IN LINE, BITCH.
He slid the knife away, before motioning for the two others to follow him. As one the group lowered their heads and ran, trampling over the forest floor and away from the woods, their work completed.
Suddenly, there was a small snap, like a broken twig, and the rabbit's ears pricked up, instantly on edge. A few moments passed, and there was no other sound, so the rabbit forgot the noise and went back to chewing on a leaf. The next noise it heard was the last it would ever hear. A large sole of a steel boot came crashing down on its head, instantly splattering it and spraying the long grass and undergrowth with blood and bits of rabbit gore.
The owner of the boot gave a deep chuckle, before scraping the remains off onto the ground, before ploughing on, crushing plantlife in his wake. He is a tall, shadowy figure, his face darkened by a hood so only his chin and mouth can be made out, while behind him follow two others, equally shadowy in their appearances yet slightly shorter, wearing low hoods. Each figure carried slung over their shoulder a heavy sack containing some bulky material, which clunked, disrupting the quiet of the forest as they walked.
The larger figure came to a stop in a thick clump of trees, somewhere in the southern area of the forest, and unslung his bag, dropping to his knees to set up the wood. The others mimicked him, and began setting light fires in a semi circle round the clump of woodland, with one larger one burning in the centre. The larger figure sniffed his work, before turning his back to it as the fire began to eat away at trees, sending great billowing clouds of smoke up into the air.
He drew a knife, walking north from the fire before coming to a halt by a great oak tree which looked to possess a great age, its swirls and ridges almost giving off an impression of wisdom. A chuckle came from behind the hood, before he began slicing away at the bark ripping into the flesh of the tree, leaving roughly cut letters which eventually spelled out:
DEAR WITCH. THE MIGHTY TOWN OF TROLLSBANE BOWS ITS HEAD TO NO FOREST. LET THIS ACT PUT YOU IN YOUR PLACE AND REMIND YOU OF YOUR STATION. GET BACK IN LINE, BITCH.
He slid the knife away, before motioning for the two others to follow him. As one the group lowered their heads and ran, trampling over the forest floor and away from the woods, their work completed.