Post by greywolf on May 2, 2008 18:29:18 GMT
That evening the group meet up to have a meal and discuss the events of the day. After finishing the main meal and settling down to wine, conversations drift into comfort chat. Grey Wolf, now full of a significant amount of ale and good food, shares some information with the group.
"While we have a little respite, I feel I wish to share a dream of a past life I had a few days before we left Maluka. Perhaps it will also be meaningful to others. In it I was a former self in the First Age. A great army is massed behind me and you I turned from them as they cheer to face the enemy before me. The hordes of Hobgoblins seemed to break over the hill like a great wave crashing upon an insignificant shore. I raise my hand high and called my blade to you.
My blades name was Alamithryr and glistened in my hand, weaving its powers and mine together as I let loose Death of Obsidian Butterflies, flattening a portion of the great onrushing tide. Cheers were all around me as I begin the counter charge. My keen eyesight picks out a small group of Fae Nobles and I charged straight toward them, hoping to do as much damage as possible.
I was aided by two of my fiercest of Terrestrial subordinates as I fought my way toward the Fair Folk. My sword (which spoke to add the occasional snide comment at having to dirty itself with the blood of the Hobgoblins) casually flick enemies out of the way without me even needing to think about it. It is at this moment that I remembers my war strider Strigon, but I knew that it was too valuable and vulnerable to the powers of those from beyond the fringes of creation to risk that day.
Finally piercing the veil of minions, the three of us entered combat against the Nobles. The great wolf of my anima reared above me, biting again and again at the faces of the enemies, removing the layers of Glamours, stripping away their beauty to leave nothing but the terrifying visage of the true creatures underneath.
Alamithryr struck blow after blow, almost singing with the glory of combat that it was designed for: Laying waste to creations enemies. As it plunged through the heart of the last creature in the immediate vicinity, I looked around again. The battle was going well but more had fallen than I would have liked. Yet I knew my brother would soon arrive to lead the secondary force to strike from the rear of the opponent’s formation, and that I would be the anvil to his hammer, shattering the steel that they try to throw against me. I lifted back my head and howled. Eagerly anticipating the combat that awaited me.
"While we have a little respite, I feel I wish to share a dream of a past life I had a few days before we left Maluka. Perhaps it will also be meaningful to others. In it I was a former self in the First Age. A great army is massed behind me and you I turned from them as they cheer to face the enemy before me. The hordes of Hobgoblins seemed to break over the hill like a great wave crashing upon an insignificant shore. I raise my hand high and called my blade to you.
My blades name was Alamithryr and glistened in my hand, weaving its powers and mine together as I let loose Death of Obsidian Butterflies, flattening a portion of the great onrushing tide. Cheers were all around me as I begin the counter charge. My keen eyesight picks out a small group of Fae Nobles and I charged straight toward them, hoping to do as much damage as possible.
I was aided by two of my fiercest of Terrestrial subordinates as I fought my way toward the Fair Folk. My sword (which spoke to add the occasional snide comment at having to dirty itself with the blood of the Hobgoblins) casually flick enemies out of the way without me even needing to think about it. It is at this moment that I remembers my war strider Strigon, but I knew that it was too valuable and vulnerable to the powers of those from beyond the fringes of creation to risk that day.
Finally piercing the veil of minions, the three of us entered combat against the Nobles. The great wolf of my anima reared above me, biting again and again at the faces of the enemies, removing the layers of Glamours, stripping away their beauty to leave nothing but the terrifying visage of the true creatures underneath.
Alamithryr struck blow after blow, almost singing with the glory of combat that it was designed for: Laying waste to creations enemies. As it plunged through the heart of the last creature in the immediate vicinity, I looked around again. The battle was going well but more had fallen than I would have liked. Yet I knew my brother would soon arrive to lead the secondary force to strike from the rear of the opponent’s formation, and that I would be the anvil to his hammer, shattering the steel that they try to throw against me. I lifted back my head and howled. Eagerly anticipating the combat that awaited me.
