NOTE: More will be added when written, so if you like Khuelas, check back occasionally for more. Any opinions, feedback, constructive criticism or worshipping is much appreciated.
Silverpine; Extract One: Long lost, Nearly forgotten.
The cold, midnight air awoke him, his cloak providing little shelter from the piercing night, chilling him to the bone. Ironic then, that all he was now, a pile of bones and a bundle of hate. Forsaken such as he had no reason to sleep, no reason to rest, yet he did so anyway, clinging to the memories of a normal life, long lost. Nearly forgotten.
Khuelas 'Slackjaw' Duskwither had seen, suffered, and lived through more than most, with a death under his belt and even more wars, he was no stranger to it, yet the sounds of the forsaken war machine in the distance still put him on edge... An all too unfriendly reminder of the scourge invasion of his home.
Picking himself up, cracking his exposed knuckles when on his feet and rubbing the space where his jaw should be, an annoying habit, yet one he could not shake, Mordo had offered to attach a fresh jaw to his skull. Khuelas refused. He might be dead, but he was no abomination.
He set out into the mist shrouded forest that lay before him, the shadows enveloping him as soon as he was gone. Leaving not a trace. Only the dull sound of war in the distance unsettling the otherwise quiet, ... dead night.
Silverpine; Extract Two: Patience is a Virtue.
Khuelas stalked the night, treading carefully through the forest, minding not to disturb the ground too much incase he was being followed.
Pausing suddenly, and lowering himself into a crouch, he pulled back his hood for a better listen at the surronding wildlife, or therefore lack of, a sharp crack boomed through the silent forest behind him, far off, but not far enough not to warrant caution. Pulling his hood up once more, slipped into the embrace of the shadows, unseen from all but the most diligent of observers.
Time passed, and slowly but surely, a Dwarf emerged from the growth of the woods into the clearing before him, muttering quietly in Common, a language which he was all too familiar with. Khuelas eyed him carefully, his fingers curling around his blade, waiting for the chance to strike.
He was patient, an assassin was required to be, however his cursed state lent itself well to this task, Forsaken never requiring food, water, or oxygen, they could stay in the field, hidden, indefinitely, until boredom and restlessness got the better of them.
The Dwarf stepped foward, his back turned to the hollowed oak where the Forsaken was waiting, like a lion waiting to pounce, just as deadly, if not more.
Khuelas pulled the blade from his scabbard, throwing it through the air with such a force that the very air split with the momentum, watching eagerly, as it plunged itself home, at the base of the Dwarf's skull. The man before him stood for a second, attempted to turn, then slumped to the cold, hard earth with a sickening thud, it was over before it had even began.
Rising from his hiding place he walked slowly over to the fallen enemy before him, making sure that the dwarf was really dead, resiliant bastards, the dwarfs, it wouldn't be the first time a Forsaken had fallen to a not quite dead Dwarfs final attempts at retribution. When he reached the body, he unsheathed his second sword and plunged it deep into the corpse, severing the spine with a sickening crack, placing his boot on the man's back, he kicked it hard, freeing his blade with a mighty heave, blood flying through the air, and trickling down the blade. Cleaning it, and retriving the first thrown sword he returned both to their sheaths in one fluid motion, whilst turning, and continued his trek, letting the calm stillness of the night shroud the area once more, and just as quick as the silence returned, he was gone.
J. 'Spinemaw' Ramsey.
Subject: Chronicles of Khuelas 'Slackjaw' Duskwither, The Deathstalker. 
Wed Jun 01, 2011 11:32 am
