Yet unnamed story
A story that may or may not be continued based on how it is received by readers. This story feafures companionship between a human and a kobold(the short bipedal lizards, not the rat-things from WoW). This story may become decidedly adult later, but I aim to have an actual story here. There will be fighting, plot, enemies(human and otherwise), and perhaps even "exotic 'taurs".
So, here's a story about a young man, a mage, and his encounter with a stray kobold. I won't give away much info about them, and whether or not this is even continued is going to be up to those who read it. I will be posting 2 or 3 chapters more regardless, both of which will be longer than this incredibly brief intro. So, without further adue, read away...
Two weeks. Two weeks had passed by since her clan left this dried-up mineshaft. Against sensible advice, she chose to remain. She hadn't considdered the costs of her decision. She was young and quick to act...but slow to think. She let the thoughts tumble about in her mind as she paced the mine near the surface. She had gotten wiry already. Very little food was left to her. She had eaten through her supplies two days ago. Now, she was basically doomed. She looked over herself. Thin, mostly, was what came to mimd. That and dull. Since all laborers left with the rest of the clan, nobody was bringing fresh water down. It was drink or bathe. Fortunately, she chose drink. Unfortunately, she was dirty, and began to smell a week ago...and water was running dry now too. And she had nothing to show for it...
Ra'aleh was running out of time, and would have to surface today or tomorrow. She had no choice. Perhaps there were no gnolls near. Perhaps humans had no interest in this little hovel. She paced near the entrance, faintest traces of sunlight glaring off of even her dull scales, hurting her sensitive eyes and disorienting her. She would be all but helpless up there... Perhaps she could wait just a few more days...
Ra'aleh returned to her toils. An old iron pickaxe, her tool of choice for breaking through stone in search of ore. They had, as a clan, very nearly cleaned the mine out. She was lucky to even find so much as a vein of copper.
Hours in, with no luck at all, she hurled her pick at a wall, and growled in frustration. She yelled out, "There has to be SOMETHING left!" Small stones and dust fell loose from the ceiling. She froze. Slowly, carefully, she walked backwards, measuring each step, and watching as more debris fell from the ceiling. A large rock came free, and she paniced. She spun around and bolted, but only got a step before a sharp pain tore at her ankle, and she went tumbling forward. There was a thunderous noise, and dust choked out all vision. She closed her eyes and waited to be crushed.
......
Magnus sprinted forward, the dire wolves tearing at his heels. He sprang to the left, mid-run, and watched as one of the enormous beasts bolted just to the side of him. Without a pause, he pressed his hands together in a practiced manner, and whispered ancient and long-forgotten words, beckoning a fire that burned within himself to emerge. The air around him seemed to glow and buzz for just a fraction of a moment before exploding into flame, forcing the pursuing monsters back, and lighting two aflame, as well as scorching the grass, and setting a few trees ablaze.
No time for rest, he ripped his saber free from its scabbard, and whipped it out at one overeager aggressor. A would-be killshot, had the creature not jumped aside just as blade met flesh and fur. It yowled at the unexpected blow. It crouched to leap again, and before it could leave the ground, Magnus flicked his hand at it, flinging solidified mana in the shape of a crystal. The missile struck the beast squarely in the chest, and as the wolf tore at the alien protrusion, it detonated, vaporising a section of its chest. Before that one even hit the ground, dead, another lept at him from behind.
He rolled out of the way at the last minute, suffering only a gash in his shoulder as opposed to having his head torn free from neck. Not giving the three remaining pursuers time to circle up again, he broke off into a sprint, hoping to find some shelter near. He was losing blood now. The gash wouldn't seal, and he was bleeding profusely from the wound. If he didn't bind it, soon, he would be in trouble.