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Snippet #1475026

located in Norr, a part of The Gift: Chapter Two, one of the many universes on RPG.

Norr

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Forest, Somewhere near the Terra Mountain Range

The Deep Human slowly relaxed, dropping the arrow from the string and returning it to its place in the quiver. She turned and watched as the Halfling and Orcs ran on for a moment, considering the corporal’s offer as she slung the longbow over her shoulder. Shrugging her shoulder and feeling the location of her equipment she jogged after them, catching up and taking the lead, head bent slightly, as if to observe the ground before her, hiding her face from the others seeing the crimson growing stronger in her eyes.

In a moment she paused, “This place we are going… Is directly ahead?”

The Halfling seemed a bit perplexed… maybe upset? It seemed that in his mind he suspected something of her. A quick glance at either orc or earned her own glance, keeping her eyes hidden by some hair that had fallen over her face.

“Yes, it should be just ahead.”

“Maybe, I should cover our tracks, since I have no ideas of where we are going.” She turned and walked past them and stood to the side, watching them until the Halfling resigned to turn around and lead his two orc companions back on their way. Waiting for a while she glanced at the woods before following, taking up a pace just behind them as she followed them through the forest.



Yanis moved on through the forest a small scowl on his face. For a moment he was sure the Deep Human might have been the one that was with the Children. But when she stopped and asked for directions it was some-what clearer she may be the most honest one of the bunch. The two orcs though… What in the world was a Shawoman? Wasn’t the term a Shaman, despite the gender? And this premonition business, it didn’t hold water. Once he got to the tower he’d get some of the men there to restrain and interrogate them. It wasn’t far now, just beyond those trees.

He pushed slightly ahead of the orcs and broke into the clearing, slowing down a bit to gaze proudly at their scout tower, its reinforced form stretching into the sky, looking out across the land to report any business of the Children. The Ballistae on top ready to fire and looking out over three directions to remove any possible threat that approached. Clenching his one hand into a fist he silently cheered and pushed on for the tower, the sooner he gave out the warning the better. As he drew closer, something seemed wrong with what he saw. Pulling back into a walk he took a few steps then stopped. Peering out it looked as if the door to the tower was open. Were they shifting positions?

He took a few more steps and stopped dead. Inside he could make out dark forms across the floor, something clinging around their bodies. Not here… Was I too late? He took a step back and bumped into the tall form of one of the Orcs. He felt an anger boiling inside them as he turned, ”You! What did you and your cohorts do—“

The shout died in his throat.

Emerging from the trees behind them came white robes. Yet there wasn’t a handful or even a couple. What first seemed like ten quickly rose to much more. His skin began to drain of warmth and blood as he turned around, white cloaks appearing from within and around the tower and encircling them. There had to be at least a hundred!

Then he heard something that froze his heart in ice, eyes drawing to the top of the tower as his body shook with primal fear. A small dragon beat its great wings twice and dropped to the top of the tower, its form cracking apart a ballista as pieces fell from the tower. A lance of pure white streaked across the sky illuminating black scales. It rose up, and let lose a feral roar right as the thunder struck but the Halfling seemed to know, the dragon was louder.

Yanis felt his lips tremble and began to mumble a curse before he felt something strike him in the back of the head. Corporal Yanis of the special forces dropped dead, face frozen in pure despair, with the shaft of an arrow buried through the back of his skull.



Dracon dropped the long bow, hands moving mechanically as she reached over her shoulders, slender fingers wrapping around the hilts of her blades. The sapphire in her eyes almost completely drowning in the deep pools of fiery crimson that took over. Before her the only survivor from the ambush collapsed as the orcs turned to look where he fell and began to spin around in shock. A cold smile spread across her lips as her arms jerked forwards, wrists flicking as she threw the blades just as they cleared their sheaths, metal blades dancing end over end. The pair had turned towards her then, the one holding the great sword roaring in challenge as the shorter of the two began to raise his war hammer and battle axe over his head. Neither noticed the blades until they struck, one burrowing in the knee of the great sword wielder, the other driving almost clean through the dual wielder’s right elbow.

The impact startled the pair, leaving room as Dracon crossed the ground, eyes burning intently as the Children of Fire watched around them. Her left foot kicked up the long bow as she approached, left hand casually waiting as it snatched up its grip once more. She had closed the gap then, right hand dropping to grip the end of the bow as she approached Gormun, his sword in the mud, hands holding himself up as he tried to recover from the shock of being able to use his left leg from the knee down. All the warrior had time for was to look up into her frozen scowl as she swung the longbow across his head, the sturdy weapon shattering as it dropped him cold.

The roar of her second opponent tipped her off for the attack as she dropped low to the ground, left hand pressing into the damp, rain soaked earth as her right drew the short sword at her side. The presence of the heavy war hammer sailing over where she once had been. Standing up she turned, holding the weapon in reverse, crossed just below her neck as she faced off against Brack. The infuriated orc, ignoring the pain of his useless right arm as his left jerked the battle awe from its grasp. Throwing away caution and reason he charged, raising the weapon over his head as she stood before him.

Just as he stepped within striking distance she ducked, rolling her left shoulder forwards, her body following the motion as feet turned on the earth, dropping inside his reach as the battleaxe cleaved through open air. Her back to his, just under his hunched form her head jerked back, breaking his nose and stunning the large foe to prevent him from locking her in an embrace with his remaining arm. The orc stumbled away as she turned, blade racing across and up in a single spin.

She stood with her back to him again, arms resting at her sides as his head began to lean back, shoulders following until the body toppled over. Without much care for where it fell she dropped the blade to the ground. The drizzle grew stronger into true rain and she looked at her audience, eyes bathed in pure crimson as black forms pushed through the crowd. The figures walked on two legs though they looked as if they were dragon in nature, forms as black as the dragon atop the tower. They drew close to her as one carefully raised a helm before her. Its form was long, carefully crafted for a war that was long past, the surface a dull crimson, the color of blood. The mithril helm felt good in her hands once more as she donned the helm, crimson eyes gleaming out of draconian slits.

Dracon motioned for her soldiers to follow her, the other pair carrying the rest of her sacred armor.



As the four figures moved inside the tower, the Children of Fire began to gather outside, making room as a score of black dragons began to glide from the sky to land. Lightning pierced through the heavens again as the rain began to pick up, thunder booming like war drums into the night.