“It was the four of them that saved
us. There was that soldier fellow with spectacles. And the sick old
half orc. And that sneaky little dwarf. And the boy with the bird.
They saved our town, but they left a long time ago. And I aint herd
from them sin-”
With that Randel fell dead to the
ground. It was a sweet release from the tortures he had undergone. No
one in the small village of Baytown had ever seen Elves with black
skin, and those that survived would never want to again.
********************
Gabriel had been on the run before. He
had been on the run when he met those four strangers on the Caravan.
He was sure Master Darwell was pounding his desk in anger of his
absence, but something was after him, and running was what he did
best. He had only seen it for a moment, there in the offices, reading
over his master's paperwork. The secret files he kept in the back
office. No one knew about them...
Through the canals and streets of
Camdella he dashed. Guided more by memory than sight in the dark
midnight hours. Something fast, and something scary was on his tail. When he rounded
the next corner he hit something hard and fell on his rump. He looked
up slowly, seeing a silhouette in gleaming dark armor, cloaked in
moonlight.
“Bloody hells” he swore. Not the
most elegant of last words, but they got his point across.
********************
She looked down from the branches of her tree and watched the dark shapes slipping through the forest. She became one with the old oak, and looking through it roots she could make out dark skinned warriors, in full metal armor, yet making barely a peep. The town was in trouble. She had to warn her husband. Just then a dark and creeping magic washed over her. This wasn't good.
********************
There were twelve of them now, dead on
the ground. He heard more fighting out in his camp. The boys were
having a rough night too. Kavara had never seen elves like these
before, but he had read about them. He sat slumped against the post
of his tent, blood from chin to kneecaps. Most of it was theirs, but
he had missed a few blocks to be sure. He could feel poison drifting
through his veins, making his mind foggy. He kept asking himself how
so many figures could sneak past the Sons of Candor so well before
getting spotted. They weren't expecting so cunning an opponent, and
Sir Andras had given them a run for their money. It felt like his
insides were starting to come out. That was never good. They had been
shouting about the four with the Prince's sword. They were looking
for them. Following them, it seemed. Those boys were in for some
trouble. He wanted to close his eyes so badly. He had been in worse
spots before, but at the moment he sure couldn't think of any.
********************
Their forces had been all over Macinar
getting information. Trailing the worms that had disrupted
their plans every step of the way. They would find them, and they
would put an end to them. Hundreds of years of planning wouldn't be
cast aside by a few nosy surface dwellers.
Vallroth read the papers in front of
him, detailing all the facts gathered on the four. It was too late to
wait any longer. They had to proceed with the mission. That is why
they set sail. Full sail for war, in Alk'Haran ships, with Alk'Haran
soldiers. All following his
lead. It was still more than enough fire power to take the Ivors, and
control half the mainland.
He
looked in the mirror in royal cabin of the massive black ship.
Looking back at him was the beautiful caramel skinned sand queen. A
flawless disguise. He stood to adjust his illusory outfit, before
stepping out to give the final orders. A teeny little worm fell from
his person onto the wooden deck. Purple and black, wriggling and
thrashing. It ate away at the wood, before it dissolved into ashes.
