Soul left the "village" intent on taking a
straight route to the new location. After all, his wife
was in danger and he had no intention of letting her
remain so.
Several hours of hard riding brought
him to a large wood. As he entered, he heard a
grunting grumble, the sound of Ogres. "I don't have time
for them," he thinks, but he hears one grunt
something about an approaching horse. "Damn, just what I
need." Spurring his mount into a full gallop, he drew
his sabre, hoping to get by before they could react.
The first Ogre to enter the road met the bladeand
dropped immediately, his head severed cleanly. The second
was a little smarter. As Soul attempted to ride by,
he felt a crushing blow, the result of an Ogre
swinging a club the size of a small tree. The world spun
as Soul tumbled from his saddle, loosing his sabre
in the process. Soul shook his head to clear it and
the pain as he drew in a breath told him he had a
couple of cracked ribs. He quickly located his sabre,
but the charging Ogre made him give up thoughts of
retrieving it as he barely dodged the club. Soul drew his
dirk, Blood Drinker, and feinted to the left, slashing
the Ogre as he shifted right and passed. The dirk's
fine edge left a deep wound and distracted the
creature long enough for Soul to retrieve his sabre.
"Little man kill brother," the Ogre roared.
"Let's
see if you are any luckier," Soul replied. He carried
the sabre and dirk in a classic two weapon fighting
stance. The combatants traded attacks and dodges for
several minutes, but the pain in his side left Soul's
breathing ragged and shallow. "Time to finish this," he
said quietly. Soul attacked, thrusting with the sabre.
As expected the Ogre easily blocked, but left his
arm open. Blood Drinker easily parted skin and
tendons in the wrist. The club fell from useless fingers.
"Luck must not run in your family," Soul said as he
slashed repeatedly, eventually finding an opening which
disemboweled the Ogre.
Soul turned, leaving the his
opponent to try to put his organs back in and found his
mount. Pulling a cloth from the saddlebags, he quickly
cleaned his weapons and remounted heading again toward
the location he had been given.
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