I've chased each animal this wilderness brings to the table. I was sure there were no difficulties left here, yet now there is something new. Each track is the measure of a tusklord; its paws like scimitars. It could sever a man into equal parts. At long last, commendable prey.
As I stalk my prize through the wilderness, I start to see the harm this thing has created. I advance into a deformed hover of chipped trees. These monster wooden sentinels have remained over this land for endless ages, their iron-like stows away untouched by the wobbly tomahawks of anybody sufficiently absurd to endeavor to chop them down. This thing neglected them like they were twigs.
In what manner can an animal with this level of quality vanish so effectively? But then, despite the fact that it has left this unmistakable trail of pulverization, I have been not able lay my eye upon it. How might it seem like a typhoon at that point blur into the wilderness like the morning fog?
I excite in foresight of at long last remaining before this animal. It will make a gigantic trophy.
Going through the clearing, I take after the sound of a stream to get my course afresh. There I see a little stun of orange hide, hunkering, holding up. I keep an eye on it from a separation. A little fish sprinkles out of the stream and the animal scrambles for it, plunging happily into the hurrying water. To my delight, I understand it's a yordle. Also, a seeker, at that!
This is a hint of something to look forward to. The brute will be found. Nothing will escape me.
The yordle's vast ears liven up and look towards me. He keeps running on every one of the fours with a bone boomerang close by, rapidly ceasing before me. He chatters.
I gesture in thankfulness at the youthful yordle and wander onwards. I cross the troublesome territory effortlessly, endeavoring to get any indication of my quarry. As I endeavor to get his aroma, a diversion. I'm startled by unusual chittering. The yordle tailed me. I can't enable him to disturb my chase. I confront him and point into the separation. He takes a gander at me curiously. I should be more obstinate, hint of something better over the horizon or no.
I raise back and let out a thunder, the breeze whipping the yordle's hide and the ground thundering underneath us. Following a couple of short seconds, he turns his head and, with what I think could be a grin, he holds up his little boomerang. There can be no further deferral. I grab the weapon out of his hand and expertly toss it into a tree, piercing it high among the branches. He turns and scrambles for it, bouncing quickly.
I scarcely get ten paces when a thunder shakes me to my extremely spine. The stunning split of stone and wood echoes all around. Ahead, a mammoth tree crashes over my way. The bone weapon of the yordle bulges out from its trunk.
An unearthly snarl ascends behind me.
I've committed a repulsive error.
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