Splish
Splash
Splish
Splash
.
"The tumbling footsteps trances in their watery steps,
Fumbling and fluttering in each hasty step.
So gone are their elegance and grace,
but constant denial, despair, and detest.
All stemmed from their fruitless attempts,
which stemmed from their neutral contempt."
.
But one man was not swayed by their underlying attempts, well, two men.
The chase ensued, two against one. A giant and a redhead chasing a midget through a nearby hill, past the shallow creek and into the open and plain fields.
Redwald's snicker was showing on his sly face, something that he could barely hide the more excited he feel.
"Thormond. THORMOND!"
"Speak." the man grumbled between huffed breaths.
"I need to get closer to him."
"Ain't that what we are doing?"
"Yes, but I need to be right next to him for this to work."
Thormond peaked back, his breath is long getting thinner and he had been dragging his gigantic body along to keep up with Trent.
The stoic giant knew his body couldn't keep this high-intensity chase for much longer, let alone fight Trent. With a click in his brain, something ticked as his eyes gleamed.
No longer was Thormond running, but instead he slowed down his sprint, losing his will to chase down the little man in the green cloak. Thormond knew when he was to continue his attempts, and when he should give up. Now would be a good time.
With his muscular arms that are the size of one's thighs, Thormond grabbed onto Redwald. "Whatever you plan, you must bring him down," Thormond said straight to Redwald's face, barely having any distance between them, as the giant lifted Redwald straight off the ground.
"When have I ever been uncertain?" Redwald replied with that same demeanour of his, the type that instigates others to punch him in the face.
But not at this moment. As Thormond's bulging muscle tensed under his will concentrated all his remaining energy on this one meaningful contribution. The giant released his grasp on Redwald's clothes, hooking both of his hands around Redwald's right ankle.
"What the?" Redwald was confused, with this strange touchy touchy business. Certainly, he has plenty of experience with this sort of matter, but this is the first time someone has made contact with him in such a way.
But then again, Redwald knows enough of the man next to him to not question his resolve, determination, and honour in his actions. Redwald's visions turned upside down, as blood rushed to his brain. A nauseous feeling came through his guts.
Thormond checked his grip on Redwald's ankle. Then with a cautionary check, he made sure he has Trent's location in his vision. Registering where the target is heading, and estimating where he would roughly be in a moment.
"You ready?"
"Depends on what you do ne–"
But before the redhead could finish his words, still half confused with what Thormond was planning, he felt a strange sensation. Where his body became lighter, and the world became a flash as things flew by his vision in such a blur.
Thormond gripped Redwald's ankle like an axe. His body spun at a mad speed as the large figure built up his momentum. Faster and faster did Thormond spin, as the figure he was holding in his grasp almost became invisible to the naked eye.
The wind whistled and the grass trembled back as the repeated motion created a mini tornado in the surroundings. Redwald's face turned pale green as the man flirted between fainting and remaining conscious.
Thormond readied his body position for the firing. The momentum he had been for carrying built up to a peak as his body fatigued itself. Thormond's vision of his surroundings became nothing but a blur, but he could still see a cloaked figure not too far away from his previous prediction.
With stern eyes, carrying full momentum that he has built up, stopped on the final spin. His grip arched as he aimed at the figure in the distance, his arms strained and ached but he carried on with his swing. Releasing Redwald from his grasp with nothing more than pure instincts.
The redhead shot off from his grip as he flew into the misty clouds above like a projectile, ejected from an instrument of darkness, and an instrument of war, the feared machine that is a trebuchet. Gone was the figure from Thormond's grasp, shot like an arrow into the distance.
.
Redwald's stomach did backflips at their free will, the man could barely keep any of last night's porridge down his stomach, insisting the knight vomit it all out.
But this thought was shut down by Redwald, and with determination, he focused back on the outside world. No longer was his head spinning in all directions, but he was flying through the sky.
For a moment Redwald questioned if he was a bird. But his thoughts recollected themselves shortly after registering a tiny figure running through the open grassland.
With grit, Redwald suppressed his churning feeling as he put his full focus on the matter at hand. This was certainly not what Redwald had predicted, what was nevertheless what he needed from the brute.
"Thors," a chuckle came from Redwald. "You sure are interesting."
Wind slashed against Redwald's face, making him squint from the air current blowing against him. He was closing in on him, projected in the air and shortening the distance between him and Trent at a blistering pace.
Redwald reached into his inner garments, searching for what he picked up earlier. And from his pockets, Redwald pulled out small pebbles that are no larger than his palm. Not too small, not too big, just the perfect size for his grasp.
With a small pebble in his grasp, Redwald threw his dominant arm back as far as he could, readying for a release. He aimed with pure instincts, predicting Trent's dashing figure and where he will be, and where the pebble and himself would hit.
There! The pebble flew out in flash. Redwald couldn't tell if he had hit his target, but the fact that Trent was continuing told all he needed to know.
The second pebble slotted into his palm, clenched tightly as he didn't wish to miss once more. Out of caution, Redwald checked his state. Redwald is no longer still flying in an upward projection, but he is descending in a downward trajectory.
Gravity has overcome Thormond's monstrous strength. But momentum is with Redwald. With confidence, he threw the second pebble into Trent, aiming straight for his torso area. But now he released the rock, his stomach stirred up once again as food threatened Redwald to puke. Causing Trent to miss the target completely, but not by much.
The shot went slightly over Trent's head, slimmed by the figure, and struck the nearby blade of grass. It was a blessing that there were in a clearing, not a dense forest. As Redwald would have never got a clear shot on the agile little man.
By then the distance between Redwald and the earthen flat grassland is imminently coming, the figure was going to crash into the ground, and so would be his clear shot on Trent.
With sweaty hands, he picked up the last pebble that he picked at the small creek. The last pebble, the last shot, the last chance.
He shot the rock from his grip, taking account of his previous misfire and making some slight adjustments in his aim. The final pebble propelled out of Redwald's grasp, firing into the minuscule figure of Trent.
Redwald's scarlet eyes traced the projectile he threw. Released from the flying man and down to the mortal subject below.
And right at Trent's head, the pebble hit.