Fiction. My apologies

[peterstiles]

The thing I like most about Frostgrave is that reading the rule book made my mind shoot off in all different directions thinking of places and characters...

The ideas forced me to write a short story, it's not literature but I felt happy writing it.

It hasn't had a decent proof read yet, so I might have to put 0.2 up tomorrow.

Here we go:

The Last

Lucas glanced down at the steely knife in his half-hand and then, shaking his head, looked up at the beast. The beast filled the room, and to all indications this was a dining room for upward of thirty people. How the creature had even entered the room was only known to the curséd building itself.
Beyond the beast Lucas’ staff rested against the wall where he’d propped it upon entering this seemingly innocuous chamber. It was of no use there. Again Lucas flicked his eyes to his dagger, the blade was clean and the hilt was comfortable even when grasped by the two fingers he had remaining on that hand. Lucas had used this knife for years, to eat his food; now it was the only weapon he had left.
A multitude of cuts and wounds littered the beast’s body but not one wound bled, as if the beast was impervious to the touch of steel. The mercenaries’ dead and mangled forms lay still on the ground, testament to the strength and cunning behind that animal face. Lucas glanced behind him, to make sure the boys were safe. Marcus held his knife so tight his knuckles seemed to glow white, he still hadn’t cleaned it; Trevi crouched wide-eyed behind his brother, a wooden club held gingerly in his grubby mitts.
Lucas had told them not to go to Frostgrave.


full story:

http://nobby.co.uk/frost/thelast.pdf