- Messages
- 249
- Character Biography
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Where had these Vraexamore come from?! More importantly, where were they going to? And why out of all the paths within the Spine, did her and Valdr run into them on one to Tarlik-Za? What business could they have with that goblin town?
These thoughts raced through Petra's head while her eyes flitted between each scout. Counting and analyzing where best her arrows would cause chaos. Now three arrows down, she readied her fourth. The adrenaline pumping through her veins giving her strength to draw at speed. She tried to keep a constant eye on Valdr's progress. She now trusted his competency in battle; what she didn't trust, was bad luck catching him broadside.
Speaking of which, she watched him take the impact of a hammer to his back. Almost unsaddling him, if not for the years of training he must have possessed. She inwardly cringed in sympathy for the blow. Hoping he wasn't too dazed or winded to retaliate.
But just in case he was; Petra aimed for the throat of the man who swung, but he was in motion and the arrow went through the side of his cheek at an angle and towards the back of his head. His mouth unable to close as he screamed and grabbed for his bloodied face. His thrashing movements confusing his mount that already danced in place from the skirmish. The horse reared backwards, throwing its body into another in its attempt to get away. The rider of the impacted horse scrambled for his reins while his horse tried to duck away from the other.
There was confusion and yelling, but Petra was too far to hear. Instead she nocked another arrow and sent it into the growing frenzy. Satisfaction pulling a snarling smile from her mouth when she heard the tell-tale scream of another target hit.
Whilst grabbing another arrow, her quiver now emptied to less than half, she looked upwards to the sky. Scanning the clouds in hope of the flying form of her dragon. Where the fuck was he? Petra tried focusing on the gilded chord of their bond, she felt herself searching inwardly, searching for whatever bright corner it constantly hummed from.
There, close to her heart, the cord pulsed in a sopranic melody, as if in rejoicement at her attention. Grabbing hold, she sent down a flash of urgency. The thundering of her heartbeat at the thrill of battle and fear of possible death traveled with it.
She waited. Her eyes closing for less than a breath. Hoping.