Dragon Wars Ii

chewbacca71

BACK FROM THE DEAD.......
Joined
Jan 10, 2002
Posts
8,093
And so the saga begins.............



Flipping his ponytail over his left shoulder, Garbon focused his elven eyes over the Sylvan Wilderness. His eyesight penetrated the woodlands better than most other forest dwellers, a heritage of the rangers in his family tree. The murky fog could have hid an army for most elves, but his eyes were able to discern that there was still no sign of Monarth. His brow tightened as Garbon thought of what could be keeping Monarth from such an important meeting. For all his vaunted intelligence, Garbon could not imagine what could have kept the massive Gold dragon from this conference

Garbon looked over towards his right and signalled for one of his guards to come closer. " Yes, my liege, how may I serve you?" , the young elf asked, his eagerness a visible cloak to the elder. Garbon regarded him silently for the beat of a heart before speaking. "Farish, I believe..." asked Garbon. "My liege, you are correct, my family is honored by your remembrance.", answered the guard. "Well enough Farish, I need you to go to the council room and let Chamberlain Reglin know that he needs to get all the other heads of the first families together within the next hour. We will have to start without Monarth and fill him in when he arrives." Farish swallowed back his concern while puffing out his chest at the important task he had been assigned. "Aye my liege, I will do as you have requested." Turning after a salute, Farish walked by his fellow guards; smirking at the others at his own good fortune.

Garbon spent another quarter hour frantically searching the forest in a vain hope that Monarth would show up. Turning decisively, Garbon pulled his cloak higher around his slender shoulders as he turned to the guards. "It is time for us all to return." So saying, Garbon stretched his long legs into strides to take him closer to the council room. The guards quickly scrambled to create a perimeter ten feet out from the High Counciler , double timing it to get in front. With a heavy heart, Garbon pushed open the door to bring the bad news to the assembled Heads of the first families.
 
Monarth

Monarth soared over the high mountain passes, the thermals aiding his wings to hold his great bulk aloft. He turned his crystal eyes to the west and noticed the verdant swath of the Faranth Forest. Turning his wings to the left, he made a neat turn towards the west. His body was busily flapping his wings while his mind worked overtime thinking about the meeting that he was about to attend. He knew that Garbon would be waiting for him impatiently as the High Councilor had always been very high strung , especially under the current circumstances. Monarth could hardly believe that the Orcs could be so brazen, after many years of a non-aggression treaty, the Orcs had decimated a small Elven outpost at the edges of the forest.

Monarth had been the one to personally inspect the site to see if there was evidence of who had destroyed the outpost. The jagged edged halberds and spiked shields left broken at the site of the battle was enough to convince Monarth. If he needed any more evidence, he could always have more closely examine the crow picked remains of the dessicated Orc corpes intertwined with some of the Elven dead. The Elves had put up a valiant fight, but only a few had been able to make it to the cover of the forest alive. That handful, nursing grievous injuries , left a trail of blood as they struggled towards Shimalda, the elvish stronghold. After they were debriefed , Garbon sent word via Carrier Bat to Monarth to investigate and bring to the council his finding. Normally Monarth would not have let a mere Elf give him orders, but he had long been an ally of the elves of the Faranth Forest, so he did as was asked.

His thoughts were racing as he approached the first trees above the forest. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and quickly whipped his neck around to get a better view, when he felt a sharp pain in his membrane of his left wing. Screeching in pain, his head pivoted to the left and he saw a flash of color in which he was not able to discern a pattern. His senses left him as a hammer blow of force was delivered to the back of his head, the streaming sky his last sight as he plummetted to the ground. The last sound he heard was the sound of laughter, muffled by the rush of air by his head as his headlong flight towards the ground ended with a crash.
 
Sylvia Callistia Fireclaw

I walked through the Sylvan Wilderness, my namesake land, though why was beyond me, making rather good time in human form. Wouldn't do to alarm the local humanoid populace. A sniff of the air- elves. Rolling my eyes I shifted a bit, becoming more elvin in appearance, ears becoming a bit pointier. Ah- perfect. Now if only I could figure out how to dye out that bloody silver streak in my nice red hair I'd be even better. Oh well, joys of a mixed heritage, I mused.
I heard a yell followed by some laughter- looked like a chance to either do something fun or save someone, perhaps both. I made my way to the cause of the ruckus quietly, moving in stealth to avoid detection, taking to the trees that are my namesakes.
 
Kort licked his lips in satiable satisfaction. The scene below him was just too precious to give up, something beyond the lines of a roasted child, or even a nice plump horse, still young and fresh. Those delicacies were revered of his kind, but this... this was so much more sweeter.
He watched as two children played inside this clearing. His mind's eye knowing just what they were, and who they belonged too. They were not children, not as humans saw them, or elves, or orcs, or dwarves.
No, these were dragonchildren. They had come to the surface to play among themselves and others. A small village was nearby, Kort's sensitive ears picked up the common speech of human, and the clanking of their wares. The shuffling of feet, closing of doors, and everything in between.
It sickened him.
Human kind. A subservant to the dragons. As they should be, but they were not. Why? Because of the old ways. The dragon's had too many old ways getting between them and conquering this entire world for themselves.
He coughed, shooting smoke and brimstone into the air, his sign of disgust at the entire production.
A curt smile lit his lips.
Perhaps, perhaps lessons should be taught.
Kort, large and tall in his own right, stepped into the clearing, where the dragon young and other children played now, something similar to Hide and Seek. He rushed at them, his massive wings opening up, blocking out the sun. He could see the fear in the children's eye, the utterable horror as they cried for fathers who could not hear them.
In a single gulp, he ate two, loving the crunchy sound they made as he chewed.
The dragon children looked on, aghast. They dared not move, but he could see them ready for flight. He had to act fast.
In an instant, they had changed, their features lengthening, skin turning to scales. A golden child, and a white. Excellent. He thought those two would do nicely.
One he stomped on immediately, breaking her neck, and watching as she twitched her way to a slow and painful death. The other, he toyed with for a bit. Biting one wing off, then the other, corraling her inside the field. He picked up a few of the running children, popping them in his mouth like they were candy.
They were candy. Children tasted so sweet. Their virgin blood dripped from his smiling mouth.
Finally, out of sheer terror, or exhaustion, the golden dragon fell to the ground, shifted once, and then lay still. Kort nodded, yes, this would do nicely.
He picked the gold up, sailing over to the nearest village. He placed her on the outskirts, having to throw her in, not wanting the people to see him, just the dead dragon.
The other one, he took to the entrance of the cave they had used to get out. It was small, and petite, but useful for an escape route, or even better, just a way to get out and enjoy the sunshine every once in a while, as these two whelps had done.
With a huge fling of his neck, he sent the white carcass into the bowels of the cave.
Kort couldn't tell anyone why he did it. Not hatred for the children, or even the gold or white kind. He did hate them, but that is no reason to kill dragon children.
He did it... possibly out of spite, or maybe just something to do in this boring world they had now...
Kort couldn't put his finger... or talon on it, but the real reason he did so, was because he hated the old ways. He hated them with a vengeance.
It was time for new ways, a new order. He licked his crimson lips, and thought, perhaps, a new order might come.
Maybe even on the wings of Kort himself.
Smiling at this, he decided to take a morning flight, and work off some of his morning breakfast. Children were plump and delicious, but very fattening.
 
Sylvia

I made my way through the trees, getting closer and closer to the scene. A rather awful stench in the air grew as I came closer, masking my own scent. Sometimes highetened senses of smell weren't a blessing, I mused just before I came upon the scene.
A dragon lay in the center of an obviously recently made clearing not looking too well at all.
 
The death of Monarth

Silently approaching the source of the noise, the three elven rangers push apart the underbrush. It is difficult to see from this distance so Giltram motions for Selwen to come with him and for Darshan to stay behind. Giltram moves closer, but his sense of smell kicks in before his sight does. The overwhelming scent of fresh blood pervades the air, making a foul reek that Giltram has to hold his nose to try and counteract. Selwen quickly grabs his arm and points towards their left , at a break between the trees. Selwen crawls through the underbrush to the end of the tree line.

The two elves hear a loud roaring, seemingly like laughter to their elven ears. They see a large golden dragon that has been rended apart, pieces strewn about this broken area of the forest. A large tree truck has pierced the torso of the dragon, pinning the giant scaly creature to the ground. Giltram recognizes the dragon, it is Monarth. He turns to Selwen, cupping his hand to his ear. "Selwen, that is Lord Garbon's ally Monarth. Something has killed him most horribly. You need to get Darshan and report back to Lord Garbon immediately. I will stay here and see if I can figure out what has happened. " Selwen looked over at Giltram and silently shook his head. He would follow the order.

Selwen crawled back towards where Darshan was hiding and the two of them started off. They had only gotten ten paces further into the concealing forest when they heard a scream of agony. They recongnized it was the death rede of an elf in extreme pain. They saw a motion above the closest tree top, and were able to make out the figure of Giltram seemingly writhing in the air. Suddenly, his body vanished with a clapping noise, and the forest became strangely silent; even the birds were making no noise. Selwen grabbed Darshan and led him further into the forest, knowing that he could not help Giltram, but would obey his last order.
 
Sylvia

More screams came from the area of the downed dragon. Suddenly a pair of elves came flying through the forest, nearly knocking me over.
"What the- that was rather rude," I sputter indignantly. They both pull me to my feet, uncerimoniously dragging me along behind them. "Hey! Stop it!"
After a few moments they slow and eventually stop, gasping for breath, anguis painted on their faces. "What's wrong with you two? Geeze- wait- did you see something about that dragon's scream? Is he dead?"
 
Selwen gasps to recover his breath, sweat flowing down his back like rivulets of terror. He looks over at his friends, observing that Darshan seems to be ok, his knuckles pressed into the moist forrest floor as he kneels to regain his composure. Selwen looks over at the shapely female elf, noting the beautiful silver streak in the rare Red hair that few elves had. With a mighty effort, Selwen calm himself to try and answer the elf before him.

"Yes, you are correct, it would seem that the gold dragon has meet a tragic end. Monarth had long been an ally of my people, his passing is an ill omen of these troubled times. I am more concerned what happened to my captain, Giltram. I do not know what manner of creature caused his death, but I am scared to think that in all my long years on this world I have never seen the like. Come Darshan and our lost elf-maiden, we make for Shimalda."
 
Sylvia

For lack of anything better to do at the moment I follow the elves, not correcting them in thier assumptions that I'm one of them. I often passed for human or elvin for months at a time, only taking my birth form in emergencies. Besides- something was afoot and it might be handy to be involved.
I kept up easily with the elvin rangers as we made for Shimalda with Selwin taking the lead, Darshan in the back and me in teh middle.
 
Darshan takes a dirt bath......

Darshan , his lungs heaving like a bellow, tries to concentrate on his breathing. This is complicated by the view of a shapely posterior in front of him. His mind races as he tries to figure out what an elf maiden is doing by herself walking through the forrest in these times of unrest with the Orcs. His ears twitch as he hears a faint sound to his left. Craning his slender neck to locate the sound, he is unaware of the change in his foreground.

His momentum is brought to an abrupt halt as he runs into a solid object. Blood streams out of his shattered nose as he swivels his head to look straight ahead. He sees two bright objects shining above his head , twinkling in the twilight. He tries to yell a warning to his companions as he feels something incredibly large and powerful encircle his torso. The breath squeezing out of his lungs is the least of his worries as the evening air is treated to the sound of his ribs crushing to a fine powder. His body is quickly taken from the faint forrest trail, the only evidence that this elv had existed was a large blood splatter standing mute evidence towards the violence perpetuated towards the once living elf.
 
Sylvia

I hear the one behind me fall- not a good thing there. Something is not good here in this forest. Far too quiet and too much death. We hit a large clearing and I got an idea.
"Hold up a sec, there's something wrong here," I yell to the other elf, kneeling on the ground and pulling up my magic. I can feel threads of magic running through the forest, criss crossing in infinantly smaller grids of power. There- near by, coming closer- a large tangle- something bad.
I sigh and rise to my feet. "Listen, I'm doing this to save you because you were kind enough to try to save me. Afterward give me a nice head start and we'll call things even. That is if you decide I have to die."
That said, I took a deep breath in and as I released it slipped from the form I'd taken and back into my natural form of a 3/4 red 1/4 silver dragoness. At 31' from nose to tail I was good sized and very fast. I heard the elf gasp behind me but didn't turn to look at him- there was something more dangerous afoot or awing out here then a solitary elf.
 
Selwen felt something was wrong and turned in time to see a spray of blood coming from Darshan's pulverized body. He quickly pulled out his long sword as he prepared to enter battle with whatever had treated his lifelong friends so badly. However, his hand would not function properly as his saw the elfmaiden knelt on the ground near his feet. His eyes widened as he saw her change to a large dragon. His sword forgotten for the moment, he moved his arms to his side as he took one quick look at the dragon before him. He gave a sad smile as he decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and sprinted into the nearby underbrush. He felt bad abandoning the dragon, but felt that getting this information to Lord Garbon was more important than the life of a dragon.
 
Fiandorel

Fiandorel the White

Fiandorel soared through the night sky, making her way across the vast range of mountains that were the Draklor Chain. She had ventured out after moonset nightly for three moons in search of a place to make a new lair. Each time she flew farther and farther away, until three nights ago when she finally found it.

It was an island. Small by normal standards, but there was an small mountainous area which included an inactive volcano on its northern end. Inside were mazes of caverns and even a hot spring which bubbled up merrily from deep below the surface.

On the southern tip of the island was a small fishing village. There were only a few lesser folk living there and a handful of ratlings. She wondered why there were not more, they seemed peaceful enough. No matter.

Fiandorel had no quarrel with humans and thought that it was entirely possible for them to co-exist, one of the bones of contention among the others of her kind. She had thought long and hard before making her decision to leave The Colony, but once her decision was made the white knew there would be no turning back.

Circling the island one last time, she began her descent into the cone of the volcano. She had fed earlier, so all that was needed was to make herself comfortable and sleep. Having chosen a spot, she settled her bulky body, curling up into a ball, albeit a rather large ball, and resting her head on her tail, the magnificent White was soon fast asleep.
 
Fiandorel the White

The day star rose early in the sky though it didn't shine into Fiandorel's lair until it reached its highest peak at almost noon. She yawned and stretched languidly, arching her back. Mmm... she murmured to herself as the scent of a boar somewhere close reached her nostrils. Breakfast.

She stood, flexing her wings in preparation for flight. In one fluid motion she was airborne and spiralling upward into the welcome sunlight of a beautiful summer day. She resisted the temptation to go flying, however, instead extending her talons and swooping down on her unsuspecting prey.

She made short shrift of the meager repast before easing herself into a nearby mountain pool to wash before basking a while in the sun. Flapping her wings, Fiandorel lifted her scales, letting the cool water run under them.

The sound of the quiet gasp almost didn't reach her over the noisy splashing she was making. Turning her enormous head, the White dragon spotted a graybeard who must have wandered across the island for some reason.

Eyes wide, the man stood quite still for a moment before laying his spear gently on the ground and dropping to his knees. Surprised, Fiandorel grinned widely, her teeth glinting in the midday sun as she moved toward the pool's edge. Nudging him, she bade him get up.
 
Sylvia

I could feel whatever it was in the trees around me but couldn't see it. BUt the smell, what I'd missed in elvin form I caught full blast as a dragon. A rank, overrippened fruit smell undertoned with the acrid scent of blood. If it had just been me I might have stayed and fought but Selwin lay crouched under the brush behind me and if I died he would as well. I took a deep breath and let out an altered fire spell- it would burn only leaves, not the trees themselves. The smoke should be enough of a screen for us to get away.
I wheeled and charged toward Selwin, tossing him with my teeth onto my back where the lines of my carry all lay. "Grab onto that- we're getting out of here- I can't fight something that big and know I'll win."
I feel him grab onto the magically strengthened lines as I leap into the air, blowing a blast of fire at the medow below me to get an updraft so I could soar higher faster. I winged toward Shimalda, guided by Selwin, who seemed quite frankly amazed I was helping him.
I laughed back at him. "I'm only 3/4 Red, the rest is 1/4 silver dragon. I watch out for my people, those who worship Ti'era, Goddess of Red or Neutual Magic and Flames, first, then those I deem worth, like people who are nice and try to help me, like you did, and then finely other dragons of my ilk. These dragon wars are idiocy but hey, I don't make the world, I just try to survive in it."
 
:: Darkness fills the caverns, water dripping slowly from the stelagtites overhead. Slowly a soft light pushes back the darkness as two figures enter the caverns through a cave. The figures follow the walkway light by a torch, when a sinister laugh breaks the silence. The two men stop and search the darkness around them looking for the origin of the laugh. Suddenly a voice booms through the cavern.::

So it has been done then?

::The two men are startled for a moment, one of them falling backwards and landing on his arse. The other regains his composure for a moment and answers::

Yes, it has been done. The Gold Dragon has been ripped to shreds.

::Another sinister laugh echos through the caverns as two green eyes, one dimmer than the other, break the darkness::

It begins now. The Old Ways where Dragons and the other creatures of this world lived in harmony is coming to an end. We've set things into motion that will secure our place in this world. This world will belong to us now.....

Where is the other dragon that made up your party?

::The man helps his acomplise up , then looks at the eyes::

He is tracking down some elves that were in the brush surrounding the area where we killed the Gold One.

Good. I am going to the Dragon Council to see what they have decided about this matter. I will contact you when I return. Until then I want you to......
 
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Kort felt the twange of danger before he could see or hear anything else. At once his head spun around, turning the other way, as if guided to some sort of ruckus.
He watched as the forest unfolded, and a silver dragon emerged, seemingly from nowhere. He watched her for a moment, curious as to what had just startled the poor thing.
After he wheeled back from fire, the dragon raced off. Not wanting to be caught with whatever she had singed behind, he fled as well, catching up with her.
"What is it," his eyes roamed back, as far as he could, trying to understand what in the hell could scare a dragon so, "What happened? Are you all right??"
Had someone hurt her? A group of orcs, perhaps. It was rumored they were on the move. His licked his lips in satisfaction knowing he could destory some of those impish little devils with the flick of his tails.
The worry in her eyes told him it wasn't just some orc party.
 
Maid of Marvels said:
Fiandorel the White
Eyes wide, the man stood quite still for a moment before laying his spear gently on the ground and dropping to his knees. Surprised, Fiandorel grinned widely, her teeth glinting in the midday sun as she moved toward the pool's edge. Nudging him, she bade him get up.

He rose and looked at the White Dragon, and she looked at him. He was dressed in Deer Skin adorned with beads and appeared to be about 30 human years old. He was puzzling to Fiandorel because she had never met a human who had such a powerful aura of magic.. That and she sensed something else about him, something she didn't understand.
He said "Excuse me Dragon I did not know you were bathing in this pool. I came here to fish, and certainly never would have interrupted your bath. Especially not a Dragon of such beauty as you."
"My name is Pine Beard, I live in a Village not too far from here, please forgive me for intruding."
 
Spar sat in an corner of a Tavern quietly as he enjoyed watching his human friends make asses out of themself, drinking themselfs stupid. His fellow dragons didn't know why he did so, hell, not even Spar himself knew why he did so. All he knew was that this taken his mind off the troubles at the dragons village.

This thought forced him to remember why he was there. Once again Spar got into fight with an older dragon. But Spar could not just stand there while the huge white dragon picked on the younger dragons. Besides, Spar enjoyed seeing older "tougher dragons cry like little baby humans when they relise they have been beaten by just an "weak" little whelp. Although this constantly got Spar into serious trouble. He shook his head as he remebered the punishment he received from the Golden dragon afterwards.

His thoughts shifted torward the window next to him. Often when he visited this vilage, he would see children, both human, and dragon alike, played together. Though the whelps were in their human forms. But this time, he saw no children, no dragons... Nothing. Spar suddenly picked up an sharp shreik with his ears. It made him shvier for an second. Without warning, Spar shot up, ran out the door, and torwards the front of the village. The closer he came to the spot he heard the shreik, the more and more he picked up the scent of blood... Dragons blood.

Spar came to an sliding hault behind an large croud of people. Slowly he pushed pass the people and stoped. an young gold laid there, lifeless. "Damn...

"How did it get here?"

"Who knows!"

Spar's body shook in anger. 'Who could have done this?!' Spar silently walked away from the scene, from the arguing villagers, from the village itself. Just far enough for him to transform into his dragon form and take flight into the clouds so nobody could see him. Something told him that this was not going to be an ordinary day.
 
A Selwen Snack.......

A large crash from behind him alerted Selwen that the large red scarlet dragon had turned away from the conflict and was coming his way. Just as he was about to dive to his left, he felt a large upward pull as his Leather Armor was gently pierced by fangs as long as his forearm. Suprisingly gentle, the dragon merely gripped hard enough to lift

Selwen off the ground. His breath was forced out of his lungs as Selwen was tossed over the dragons head and onto its back. He did as was directed and held onto the lines to give himself purchase on the scaly back of the dragon. He noticed an odd silver streak running down the dragon, but his question was quickly answered by the dragon . *One quarter Silver eh? * thought Selwen, *Hopefully, that is one big quarter. As the Scarlet dragon alighted and started winging further into the forest, a Green dragon came out of the forest in a great hurry. Selwen could not understand the sounds it was making to the Scarlet dragon, but then he did not speak dragon. He tightened his grip to see what this encounter would portend for his own future.
 
Garbon

Striding purposefully towards the center of the council chamber, Garbon looked around the room. He noticed the blank stares from some and the more prevalent looks of concern on the Heads of the families. His eyes tightened in concern as he noticed Lady Esmerali. He would shortly have to talk to her in private and tell her of the sad news of her sons demise at the hands of the Orcs.

Taking in a deep breath, Garbon began to speak. "My fellow elves, I had sad news to impart to all of you. I have received word that our outpost of Garilon was destroyed in the last three days by an invading group of Orcs. It is difficult to get a full count on the number of the enemy, but it looks like there was an overwhelming amount. Only a few members of the Outpost made it back alive to tell us. I have doubled all the sentries here around Shimalda, and I have sent out extra patrols of rangers out in the forests surrounding our home. "

"But I have sadder new even to tell you. I had also sent along someone to scout the Outpost to see if he could get more precise information about what happened. He still has not returned. I have much fear in my heart that something has happened to delay him. Or worse, that he may have been killed. I speak of a longtime Elf-friend Monarth, our ally the Gold dragon. I will give you more information as it comes in. I need you to talk to your families, calming down any panic. But I want you to quietly start checking your family arsenals for weapons and food to see where we stand if there is an Orc attack. Any questions? " Garbon looks to see if anyone has anything to ask.
 
Intro of Canth

Canth looked around at the curved marble columns of the council chamber. His tail moved back and forth as he paced the length of the chamber, a sure sight of his agitation. His great Golden scales reflected the torchlight as he made his way to the entrance of the chamber. Needing some fresh air, Canth walked out to the ledge at the end of the cliff. A sheer drop of 1000 feet dominated his view as he ruminated on what he needed to do. His mind cleared as he made a decision that could either save or destroy his fellow benevolent dragons. His stride more confident, he walked back into the antechamber of the council room.

"Golanth, attend me. " At Canth's command, an immense Silver dragon came out from a side chamber. Almost the size of the Golden dragon, Golanth looked over to his liege with his crystalline eyes. " What do you require my lord? " Canth looked to his aide de camp, "I need you to send out messengers to the other benevolent dragons. And yes, I want them all. We have not had a gathering of all the adult dragons in many a years, but I think this current crisis makes it imperative. Send out the fastest white yearlings that you have. I want them all here within a week, or all may be lost. You need to stress to the others the importance of speed. Send this particular message to Monarth yourself. This needs to be delivered immediatly, for I feel that he may have the best insight as to what is going on. Now move your old scaly hide and set your wings on the thermals. "

Golanth rolled his eyes at the mention of scaly hide and turned to leave. Canth called back to him, "Be careful my old friend, watch your back out there. There are dangerous things afoot in the wild. " Golanth turned back, " I will and I will make sure I stress that to the yearlings. With you leave my lord. " Canth waved a wingtip at him, "Off you go, Golanth, and make haste. " His tail weaving a pattern of agitation across the floor, Canth made his way back to his own Home, hoping he had made the right decision.
 
Worraps

yawning Worraps raised his head and squinted into the sun. stretching out his limbs he listened to them pop and snap. he looked up at the clouds, and stared. stared. this was the first time he'd seen clouds, the sky, the sun for years, at least thirty years. his sleep had been wonderful, and he certainly didn't have troubles i his dreams. this land was great, mostly.

lifting and shaking the dust off his wings he took to the sky, flying for nearly two days before his hunger and strength waned. then, he set down on a mountain side, stretched. and stareted the hunt for his food.
 
Rheamus Barren

I watched carefully as the Orcs moved through the trees, seven of them, prattling noisily to each other. Four of them carried bodies, covered in white sheets, on field cots between them. The bodies were unmoving, and too thin to be wounded orc. Not that orcs cared for their wounded, I knew.
I waited as they passed, hand holding tightly to the handle of my sword should it need to be drawn. They moved by with no incident.
What happened here? I wondered, looking behind them for more signs of orc soldiers. When I saw none, I slipped out from behind the tree limbs I'd hidden behind and started moving again.
Twenty paces further ahead, and then I encountered another small group of orcs, this one containing nine, and carrying three of the field cots.
Again, I ducked into the trees, watching closely as they passed by. Once they passed by, I debated continuing on my way, then decided perhaps it was best to stay out of clear view, forrest path or not.
I was having very bad feelings about all this. Tall thin bodies being carried on stretchers. I'd come all this way to find the small elven outpost I'd been told would help me find my way. The fact that elven bodies were tall and thin didn't sit well as I thought on the field cots being carried by the orcs.
Hadn't peace been kept for years now?
I wondered. Perhaps the orcs were helping the elves, carrying the wounded to a safer place after something else had attacked. it didn't seem right, but nothing did in that scenario.
I turned slowly, planning on ducking behind the trees and travelling the undergrowth to where I hoped the elves still were.
"Hello, friend," a voice replied, as I came faced to face with an orc soldier, weapon, an old chipped and bent axe, held in hand already.
My hand went back to my sword again.
"Wouldn't do that," another voice said, this one to my right, but I was already drawing.
The one before me took a few steps backward and my sword came into view.
"Careful, friend," it said, smiling, "There's the peace to think about. A human attacking an orc...hmmmm. Bad news for world peace."
It chuckled at that, being joined by three more from the underbrush. Up ahead, I could hear more coming along the forrest path already.
Five on one, and more to come. Was I ready for such a battle?
In dragon form, yes, but I had made a habit of remaining in human form. Besides, turning into dragon here would make me a not-so-well kept secret, and whatever orcs were in the area would be here soon to face me down. That could be hundreds, and flying away might be easy, but not beneficial, when I wanted to know what had gone on here. I lived life alone, but I was still part of the world.
Attack them
I shook my head.
Attack them!
I lowered my sword some, taking note of the one before me.
"I will not attack and defy the peace," I said. "And shall accompany you, as i believe you had that in mind anyway."
"Indeed," it replied, grinning. "We'll need your weapons."
"IF there's peace, you need nothing of the sort," I replied.
It glanced to the orc to my right, then nodded after recieving its agreeance.
"Very well then," it said. "But your ultimate fate will lie with our commander."
I nodded.
Fool! You trusting fool!
I resheathed the sword.
"Come, but be careful where your eyes wander," the orc warned.
 
A fallen soilder....

Quinn stumbled through the field, holding the side of his body, as blood continued to spew from his wound. The cold wind that slammed against his body made the crimson liquid feel like hot lava, burning his skin as it flowed down to the Earth. He knew he would be dead before nightfall but continued to run as far away from the remains of Garilon as possible. Not because he had a message or because he was looking for medical assistance, but because he didn't want to give a sniveling orc the satisfaction of watching him die.

Quinn was an archer with the 3rd infantry, stationed at Garilon. He had only been with the infantry 3 months, having served as a squire for three years. Although his young eyes were no stranger to the battlefield, nothing could prepare him for the massacre of Garilon. He had been just finished stringing his bow when the call to arms came. Even though his company had assembled quickly, the enemy had quickly surrounded them.

He stopped and doubled to the ground, unable to run any further. He couldn't do anything but stare at the dirt and watch the blood fall from his mouth. Darkness began to surround him, surely this was the end. He began to think about the wife he never met, the family he never raised, and the ocean cottage he would never retire to when suddenly things began to get brighter again. He looked up and realized a small white dragon was descending on him slowly and landed right in front of him.

The beast gazed at him, jerking its head side to side as it moved. "Your wounds are pretty bad young archer. I'm afraid I can't move you just yet. Just relax." Still unsure of what was going on, Quinn closed his eyes before feeling an electrical pulse race through his body.

The next thing Quinn knew, he was in the arms of the white dragon, miles above the Earth. Looking at his chest, he realized some of his minor wounds had healed and he was no longer bleeding. "Good dragon, who are you and where are you taking me?" "I am know as Wintor, do not try and talk you're body is still regenerating. I'm taking you to a camp my partner and I have set up so that you may recover. You'll find many other soldiers from the battle at Garilon there. For now relax, we will be there soon." For the first time in days, Quinn wasn't thinking about dying; in fact he was planning to return to his hometown and asking the maiden Vera's hand in marriage, whom he lived next to since he was a child. Rather than thinking about death, he was thinking about life.
 
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