KORRIN muttered cuss words as he trod past the icy plains. A knight never gets a good rest he said aloud as he walked on. He was the kings' decorated knight and as such the king had requested his presence. Why do I always have to babysit that big baby Korrin said as his face reddened, the permanent grin he always wore now more obvious. He was freezing cold and the cloak seemed to do no good. He couldn't take his horse out as the snow would be a problem to contend with. It would have only slowed me down he tried to convince himself.
Everywhere was quiet apart from the usual chirps of the birds. Korrin stopped to examine one. It was a plutarcch, a rare bird with an orange beard, which gave it a funny look. It reminded him of the king's wizard Ganondolf. He walked on further and suddenly a stag almost flew past him, he staggered in shock and stepped on a tree branch which crackled under his weight, he immediately reached for his sheath. The beast was definitely startled, there was someone else or something else here and Korrin knew it.
He crept through the woods and just few metres up ahead there was a huge stallion. The biggest Korrin had ever seen, the beast as black as night had seven legs, a scary figure which definitely wasn't from here. Only one person in the whole of Camelot owned such mighty beast "Victorinus" the witch Hunter and he would never be out here in the woods. Something was definitely amiss, the beast was missing it's rider...who could he be. Korrin, hands on his sheath crept against a rock trying to stay out of sight.
Suddenly he felt a cold blade rest against his jaw, he groaned a little, raised his hands up and stood up quietly. He turned around slowly to see whoever had successfully rendered his knightly sense useless. He didn't hear anything behind him the whole time. The stranger, six foot tall at most, his eyes grey as mist. Korrin could notice three huge claw marks across his face, one barely missing his left eye. He held a double handed sword in one hand and all this while he hadn't blinked nor said a word. His face as serious as stone as he kept staring at Korrin, his sword still against his jugulars.
Korrin noticed a silver pendant around his neck, he wore a long black robe and carried a silver blade clearly the work of a fine blacksmith. He wasn't a NATIVE of Camelot and korrin knew almost immediately. There was an insignia on his sword and looking more closely, it was a dragon. Why? He was definitely a dragon Slayer, Korrin thought to himself. Only few of them still existed and Camelot had none. There was only one that came to mind "Cuin lach' feragh" the Brigante.
Cuin finally spoke, pressing his blade against Korrin's jugular from which blood trickled. He said in a gentle voice yet it crackled like thunder... "WHO ARE YOU"
[to be continued]
