Pursuit of a Legend

by Luke Skytrekker, on Flickr

A cold wind howled over the snowy plains of Garheim, whistling through the jutting rocks roundabout. Baron Ernest Agalrond and his company trudged through the ice and snow, fighting their way against the cruel wind. It had been three days since they had set out in pursuit of the legendary Mongrul, and they had yet to see hide or hair of him. The men, Garhims though they were, were beginning to be exhausted by the long and (apparently fruitless) march.
One of the company, a young bowman by the name of Clervic, shuffled over to Ernest.
“Ernest, how much longer are we going to go on this wild goose chase?” he asked, “The Mongrul isn’t out here, that’s plain enough. It’s probably just a legend, anyway.”
“How many times have I told you to just call me Luke?” said Ernest.
“Sorry, your old nickname just doesn’t feel right, now that you’re a baron and all.” said Clervic.
“Clervic, I consider my Baronship a deep responsibility, not a title to bother people with. Just because my uncle died and passed the Baronship to me doesn’t make me a different man. And as for the goose chase, I’m quite sure it’ll be over soon. The Mongrul has to be somewhere around here. Legends don’t kill people—realities do.” said Ernest.
“Still, we’ve been traveling for three days and haven’t even seen a footprint. This is beginning to get ridiculous.” said Clervic, shouldering his bow and trudging off. Ernest sighed. This hunt was just going from bad to worse. Four days ago he had heard that the legendary Mongrul was back, raiding barns and cradles throughout northern Garheim. It was a terrible beast, like a wolf, but far bigger. Being a great hunter and warrior, Ernest had taken it upon himself to find and slay this monster. But the trouble was that he couldn’t find it. And, on top of that, his men were beginning to think the whole thing was just a crazy folk tale.
Luckily for him, he wouldn’t have to find the Mongrul. It would find him.



With an unearthly roar, a grey, hairy shape bounded from behind a rock, mauling and trampling one of Ernest’s men with the speed of the wind. It let out a horrible roar, glaring hungrily at the remaining Garhims with a murderous light in its bloodshot eyes. It was the Mongrul.
The rest of the company started back, some fleeing entirely from the face of the beast. The Mongrul lunged again, snapping its horrible tusks at Clervic. The man fell backwards, dropping his bow. Death stared him in the face.



Ernest Agalrond leapt forward between his man and the monster, his sword drawn. He met the Mongrul eye to eye, meeting its glare with a determined gaze.



“You will meet your end today.” he said. The Mongrul growled, backing away slightly and crouching down. It was readying for a spring.



But it never made that spring. Stoic Gurnold, Ernest’s right-hand man, rushed at the preoccupied creature from the side, swinging his axe. The Mongrul howled as the axe found its mark, flailing madly in a whirlwind of claws and teeth. Ernest thrust his blade, and the beast stopped.
The Mongrul was slain.

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This is my first freebuild (or build or any sort, for that matter) for LoR, so I hope you guys enjoy it! Sorry the rendering and writing aren't that good.