- Messages
- 86
- Character Biography
- Link
Oris watched the young dragon with pride as the leather which bound her was burned away to ash. As she came close to him, all it took was a slight tug on the chain with his claws for it to be sliced. "There, little one. Freedom is yours once more." He turned his gaze to Ferelith upon noticing her distrust of the human, his eyes narrowing as he saw the gathering crowd of attackers. He mentally relayed the information to Freya, meanwhile advising Izerth, "The mercenary is an ally, she was the one who guided us to you. The ones she fights are the ones who wish to keep you chained and bound."
Upon seeing the bodyguards, Freya grimaced. Of course, nothing could be easy. She leaped off of the dragon's back, piercing her spear into the armor of one attacker that Ferelith had pushed against Oris. Keeping the pointed blade lodged in the man, she slashed at another that came near her, causing the two to topple over onto the ground, one lifeless and the other gasping.
"Ferelith!" She called out, looking away from the bloodied scene, "everything alrig-." Her voice stopped in her throat as she saw a strange scene before her, one of a woman disappearing into foul smoke and mist, leaving a wounded Ferelith.
The mercenary rushed towards Freya and the rest of the group near the tent, as near a dozen more bodyguards neared the scene. Her stomach was bloodied, a knife embedded into her flesh as a persistent reminder of the encounter. "We'll talk later," she said quickly, adding, "Get on Oris, fast." Freya grabbed onto the dragon's scaled back, helping Ferelith up soon after.
Oris looked down at Izerth, gesturing towards him. "Stay close, child." Smoke seeped from his maw, wisps trailing from between jagged teeth as they rose into the cavern air. The dragon began to growl, a rumbling sound akin to the churning of earth. The wave of mercenaries faltered in their prideful march, an air of uncertainty permeating their ranks.
Then came the fire. A torrent of red and orange which flooded the air in front of them, bathing the cavern floor in a brilliant inferno of heat. The surge of flame dimmed the unbridled confidence that had accompanied the bodyguards, sending some into frightened escapes and others to be consumed by the fire. Soon, the onslaught ended, leaving only the pillars of remnant flame dancing upon wood and stone, and the slowly recovering group of mercenaries and their reinforcements.
Upon seeing the bodyguards, Freya grimaced. Of course, nothing could be easy. She leaped off of the dragon's back, piercing her spear into the armor of one attacker that Ferelith had pushed against Oris. Keeping the pointed blade lodged in the man, she slashed at another that came near her, causing the two to topple over onto the ground, one lifeless and the other gasping.
"Ferelith!" She called out, looking away from the bloodied scene, "everything alrig-." Her voice stopped in her throat as she saw a strange scene before her, one of a woman disappearing into foul smoke and mist, leaving a wounded Ferelith.
The mercenary rushed towards Freya and the rest of the group near the tent, as near a dozen more bodyguards neared the scene. Her stomach was bloodied, a knife embedded into her flesh as a persistent reminder of the encounter. "We'll talk later," she said quickly, adding, "Get on Oris, fast." Freya grabbed onto the dragon's scaled back, helping Ferelith up soon after.
Oris looked down at Izerth, gesturing towards him. "Stay close, child." Smoke seeped from his maw, wisps trailing from between jagged teeth as they rose into the cavern air. The dragon began to growl, a rumbling sound akin to the churning of earth. The wave of mercenaries faltered in their prideful march, an air of uncertainty permeating their ranks.
Then came the fire. A torrent of red and orange which flooded the air in front of them, bathing the cavern floor in a brilliant inferno of heat. The surge of flame dimmed the unbridled confidence that had accompanied the bodyguards, sending some into frightened escapes and others to be consumed by the fire. Soon, the onslaught ended, leaving only the pillars of remnant flame dancing upon wood and stone, and the slowly recovering group of mercenaries and their reinforcements.