Snippet #2688592

Una watched as Oaklum cut down the foes with relative ease. Knowing that she was the very reason these beings were risen from their graves was a discomforting thought for Una. The gods had not yet abandoned her and had sent this orcish fiend to protect her. It shifted Una's opinion of the green-skin and she viewed him as a gift.

Seven of the undead rose from their graves. A peal of thunder rolled down the hills of the Golden Vale and finally the barrage of rain came flooding down from the clouds above. It was cold, stinging rain that clouded one's long range view.

Una began to laugh. The rain was another gift from the gods above. She looked upward and let the rain fall down on her cheeks. It hurt slightly but it was a blessing; a baptism of faith.

"The gods' watch over us, friend!" Una said. The miasma began to disperse and recede from the dome of light. Those who were undead and rotten began to falter and fall to pieces, bone by bone. The magic that had held them together was being dispelled by the very water that purified the vale.

Water began to run down the small hill, rolling over the pocked earth where the silent strike had landed. Running water was the easiest way to disrupt any magical foulness. After a few moments the miasma disappeared completely and Una let fall the protective spell. The light from her sword dimmed but never truly disappeared.

Una sank down onto her knees into the muddy ground, still smiling. She held the legendary blade across her lap.

"I do believe we'll live today..." said Una. "Thank the gods." She paused for a moment and watched the orc with an inquisitive stare. It seemed the way Una regarded him had changed drastically since her revelation. Una even smiled at him in a friendly manner.

"Thank you."