Post by gort on Oct 9, 2010 11:47:44 GMT -5
Well, gonna be a while before I can lay hands on a computer again, so today I brought a few things I have penned. Comments, tips, or cruel jokes would all be appreciated.
Lately I have been considering writing a book, focused on Orcs. Probably gonna be out of the WoW enviroment and set in prehistoric earth. Maybe claim they are the origins of what we call trolls or Jotuns. This would be the intro.
"For the briefest of moments, the world stops. Only the hunter's body moves. With trained precision and fluidity, he draws back and hurls the spear. At his ankle, a wolf-dog is tensed. In the very next moment the chaos of the void explodes into the world. Three beings surge into the opening, the fleshy thud of a well aimed throw being the command to go.
The herd, mighty aurochs, is spooked and flee into the forest. One more is brought down by two of the three beings, the other hunters. The third being, the hound, chases the herd a short way. The spear-thrower steps from the shadow, where gray-green skin blended with the forest, into the moonlight. His face is weathered, scarred. His skin bears runic tattoos and many marks of many battlefields. Each scar a story to tell, a song to sing. Yet he is still, young. Barely blooded. His world is a brutal place, and he is as it made him. The two other hunters kneel by the kills, praying. Thanking the beast's spirits for the good hunt and the gifts of their bodies. All was right. The rituals were observed. Somewhere, to the north, a stormcloud rumbled."
Well, not as much as I had planned on writing, but time is running out.
Let the walls of Orgrimmar ring with the battle-cry "Blood and thunder before meat and slumber!" for me dear brothers and sisters.
Lately I have been considering writing a book, focused on Orcs. Probably gonna be out of the WoW enviroment and set in prehistoric earth. Maybe claim they are the origins of what we call trolls or Jotuns. This would be the intro.
"For the briefest of moments, the world stops. Only the hunter's body moves. With trained precision and fluidity, he draws back and hurls the spear. At his ankle, a wolf-dog is tensed. In the very next moment the chaos of the void explodes into the world. Three beings surge into the opening, the fleshy thud of a well aimed throw being the command to go.
The herd, mighty aurochs, is spooked and flee into the forest. One more is brought down by two of the three beings, the other hunters. The third being, the hound, chases the herd a short way. The spear-thrower steps from the shadow, where gray-green skin blended with the forest, into the moonlight. His face is weathered, scarred. His skin bears runic tattoos and many marks of many battlefields. Each scar a story to tell, a song to sing. Yet he is still, young. Barely blooded. His world is a brutal place, and he is as it made him. The two other hunters kneel by the kills, praying. Thanking the beast's spirits for the good hunt and the gifts of their bodies. All was right. The rituals were observed. Somewhere, to the north, a stormcloud rumbled."
Well, not as much as I had planned on writing, but time is running out.
Let the walls of Orgrimmar ring with the battle-cry "Blood and thunder before meat and slumber!" for me dear brothers and sisters.