A story in progress, just written for fun. Weylyn is a pure white Wolfling who can control all aspects of ice and cold. He goes on adventures fighting creatures, meeting the other species of the world, and conversing with various gods and goddesses.
The gargoyle dove for Weylyn, moving unimaginably fast. Weylyn instinctively dodged, throwing up a wall of ice to buy time.
"Gargoyles should be extinct!" he thought. Weylyn knew he was in great danger. If the tales are true, Gargoyles are not very smart, but extremely strong and fast. With long talons and thick skin, they made formidable opponents.
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According to legend, gargoyles can only be killed by piercing the glyph on their forehead. Immense cracks formed in the ice wall in front of Weylyn. He was running out of time. Reviewing his skills and abilities, he decided on a plan.
Sheathing his daggers, Weylyn pictured a broadsword, channeling his power. A feeling of iciness rushes through his veins. An icicle grows out of his palm, gaining length and form as it goes, transforming into a guard and blade. The spine of the blade was the color of the night sky, slowly fading into a pale blue edge.
With a thunderous crash, the gargoyle broke through the ice wall. Piercing red eyes darted around the room, searching for the flea that had killed his worshippers. Every rock in the cave was covered in frost, sparkling as if a tiny star was trapped inside, blinding those terrible eyes. Howling in pain, it stumbled away. Even blinded as it was, the gargoyle glimpsed a little ripple in the air in front of it. The beast dodged back, barely avoiding Weylyn's blade as it sliced the empty air in front of it.
A talon-tipped hand swings towards Weylyn's head. Making a path of ice, he slid on his knees under the monster. A sudden pain makes him pause. Clapping a hand over his ear, Weylyn felt the now jagged edge that covered half his ear. His face set into grime determination. Tightening his grip on his sword, he slashed at the gargoyle's ankles, cutting the tendons. "GRAAAAAAAH!!", the gargoyle bellowed, falling to one knee. Weylyn spun around, aiming for the fiend's forehead. The gargoyle whips its hand up, grabbing the blade inches from its glyph. With a squeeze of its hand, the sword shattered into a thousand tiny pieces.
Weylyn's eyes narrowed, gleaming with a dangerous light. Forming new blades, he launched a vicious series of attacks on the gargoyle. Striking it again and again, blades breaking and reforming, over and over, forming a mist of snow and ice that trailed after Weylyn. Dozens of little cuts covered the beast as it swiped at Weylyn, trying to crush him. Claws flash by Weylyn's head. Hardening the ice cloud around him, he formed a shield, deflecting the blow at the last second. He didn't see the tail whipping around to hit him in the side. With a crack, Weylyn was tossed to the other side of the cave.
The gargoyle stalked across the cave towards the prone form of Weylyn. With a gasp, Weylyn's eyes fluttered open. Seeing the gargoyle coming closer, he tried to sit up, only to fall back down with a wince of pain. A rib was definitely broken, maybe two. Every breath was pain, making him light headed. He was going to die down here. All because he was too stubborn to accept backup. Wheezing, he looked up at the gargoyle standing over him, closing his eyes and preparing himself for the end.
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