Tir Daraigh
Forum Newcomer
- Joined
- Jun 9, 2010
- Messages
- 58
- Nick
- Xyrael
A cool breeze blew down through the mountains, each which sat astride a pristine valley decadent in thriving pines and brilliant snow. The wind made its way past the bears which foraged amongst the brush, past the deer that watched cautiously past the wood, beyond the wolves who with hungry eyes pursued their quarry. High above a blue sky carried aloft thin wisps of white like brush strokes sloppily cast over a brilliant canvas, the white, warm sun was small and distant and did little to shrug off the cold that loomed over a lone man, himself perched over what heat he could garner from the fire he had crafted. Two tents flanked the figure, his head buried within a heavy jacket; his bare hands folding over themselves again and again before the fire. His gloves sat beside him on the frost-blasted rocks, losing what heat had resided in them to the merciless climate.
The man's eyebrows were furled, draped above small, ugly amber jewels. Hairy and thick, they were more a blanket to keep the mans face war than the cap adorned atop his head. Viktor Isyanov was the name people called him, a name lost to him when he let himself free in the wilderness. The wind blew again, rustling the tents now. He turned his head and looked at them, one of his bushy eyebrows raising itself high. A small tinge of iron touched his senses, and he wrinkled his nose before working himself to stand atop his heavy boots. He grabbed his gloves and pulled them on, wiggling each finger to ensure the glove fit snugly. Some waking body groaned from within the tent, and Viktor moved over quickly to look inside, unzipping the tent quickly.
Inside, the mangled body of his colleague shuddered under a sack. A warm fluid was steaming in the cold. Viktor moved and grabbed the man in the bag, jostling him with a firm shake. "Agh!" Viktor grumbled aloud, "Grigor, putko mirizliva! You pissed yourself!"
"Ti si grozen kato ulian," Grigor cursed as he woke up, "Agh, govno." He shook his leg as he crawled out of his tainted sleeping bag.
"No more vodka for you," Viktor laughed heartily, slapping his comrade on the back hard before grabbing the rifle tucked in the corner of the tent. "Come, let us go wake Darko."
Grigor shook his head, his greasy hair glistening in the morning sun. He needed to bathe, his odor could easily be smelt from a kilometer away. That was probably the reason Viktor had spent much of his time outside by the fire. Now the two walked towards the next tent with a chuckle.
"I bet you he is still sleeping, he will enjoy this," Grigor chuckled, grabbing the tent zipper. "Ready?"
Viktor nodded, and Grigor pulled the zipper quickly. Viktor raised the rifle, squeezed the trigger, firing a round into the sleeping mans leg.
"Sranje!" Darko screamed, struggling to flail around while trapped within his sleeping bag. "Govno yedno!"
"Haha!" Grigor forced out a laugh, and Viktor pulled back the bolt to chamber another round, pointing it at Darko's arm. "I told you he would like it!" Viktor pulled the trigger, the blood squirting from the mans' arteries and spraying the fabric of the tent.
"Vushka," Viktor cursed at Darko, "you betrayed your people for last time." The threat was real, another round moved into the chamber to seal the promise.
"Please, let us negotiate," the dying man pleaded for his life in futility. "Whatever it is I did, I am sorry!"
"Bog te jebo," Viktor smiled a toothy, evil grin before firing the weapon. More blood, this time with fragments of skull and fatty brain tissue, coated the side of the tent. Viktor looked at the mess he had made and sneered.
"Fuck, Viktor, how are we supposed to clean this great mess," Grigor grumbled.
"Leave it," he grumbled as he chambered another round, this one in the event they happened to stumble across some unpleasant animal in the wilderness. This was a nice place to dispose of a body, he thought to himself. Too few campers, too many bears. The body would be gone by the coming of twilight. "We need to get back to Sredecsava, I have a meeting," he sighed, breathing in the crisp, thin and cold mountain air.
The man's eyebrows were furled, draped above small, ugly amber jewels. Hairy and thick, they were more a blanket to keep the mans face war than the cap adorned atop his head. Viktor Isyanov was the name people called him, a name lost to him when he let himself free in the wilderness. The wind blew again, rustling the tents now. He turned his head and looked at them, one of his bushy eyebrows raising itself high. A small tinge of iron touched his senses, and he wrinkled his nose before working himself to stand atop his heavy boots. He grabbed his gloves and pulled them on, wiggling each finger to ensure the glove fit snugly. Some waking body groaned from within the tent, and Viktor moved over quickly to look inside, unzipping the tent quickly.
Inside, the mangled body of his colleague shuddered under a sack. A warm fluid was steaming in the cold. Viktor moved and grabbed the man in the bag, jostling him with a firm shake. "Agh!" Viktor grumbled aloud, "Grigor, putko mirizliva! You pissed yourself!"
"Ti si grozen kato ulian," Grigor cursed as he woke up, "Agh, govno." He shook his leg as he crawled out of his tainted sleeping bag.
"No more vodka for you," Viktor laughed heartily, slapping his comrade on the back hard before grabbing the rifle tucked in the corner of the tent. "Come, let us go wake Darko."
Grigor shook his head, his greasy hair glistening in the morning sun. He needed to bathe, his odor could easily be smelt from a kilometer away. That was probably the reason Viktor had spent much of his time outside by the fire. Now the two walked towards the next tent with a chuckle.
"I bet you he is still sleeping, he will enjoy this," Grigor chuckled, grabbing the tent zipper. "Ready?"
Viktor nodded, and Grigor pulled the zipper quickly. Viktor raised the rifle, squeezed the trigger, firing a round into the sleeping mans leg.
"Sranje!" Darko screamed, struggling to flail around while trapped within his sleeping bag. "Govno yedno!"
"Haha!" Grigor forced out a laugh, and Viktor pulled back the bolt to chamber another round, pointing it at Darko's arm. "I told you he would like it!" Viktor pulled the trigger, the blood squirting from the mans' arteries and spraying the fabric of the tent.
"Vushka," Viktor cursed at Darko, "you betrayed your people for last time." The threat was real, another round moved into the chamber to seal the promise.
"Please, let us negotiate," the dying man pleaded for his life in futility. "Whatever it is I did, I am sorry!"
"Bog te jebo," Viktor smiled a toothy, evil grin before firing the weapon. More blood, this time with fragments of skull and fatty brain tissue, coated the side of the tent. Viktor looked at the mess he had made and sneered.
"Fuck, Viktor, how are we supposed to clean this great mess," Grigor grumbled.
"Leave it," he grumbled as he chambered another round, this one in the event they happened to stumble across some unpleasant animal in the wilderness. This was a nice place to dispose of a body, he thought to himself. Too few campers, too many bears. The body would be gone by the coming of twilight. "We need to get back to Sredecsava, I have a meeting," he sighed, breathing in the crisp, thin and cold mountain air.