Its the end of the Third Era. The Civil War in the southern lands of the Dunmeck Kingdom has escalated to full out war of the entire lands. What was thought to be merely a couple of strange bandit raids in the forest has been relieved to be the sec...
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Whether it was Balphamire himself or Orglien that made the charge down, Kelnmock good not tell. Rather he only followed, flipping about the trench and eyes coming to see but a few ranks of the beast returning the action.
"Kill them all!" Their leader cried out just before the two masses collided their ringing metal blades; Kelnmock finding his intentional strike delayed as he was forced to duck from the said encounter. However, with in the seconds it took to fly back up, he found the very darkened elf which had made him a target was being thrown aside by the shape tip and sheer strength in Orglien's strength, his attention now able to focus on those which attempted release their black rain's of death to the group.
"Lician!" He shouted above the sounds of battle, "We need these archers taken out now!" His breath was then extended as his wrist flicked downward to the nearest armed creature that had made attempt to free its arrow.
As for the mage, he merely found his answer by the massive and heated intensity of flames crashing to the lines of others which began their aimed kneel--a cry. He barley made reaction to the attempt of a stab behind, dodging away frisky and circling his sword around to return the attack, this a success as the blackish red blood spilled away to the dry grasses. As for the rest of them, Kyplore's bow instantly made short work of their heads as flashes of pointed arrows flunk into the skulls if the creatures and what remained quickly stumbled to Orglien's rage.
"Jobleir shall be fine with some rest, I hope." He announced loudly, trotting down the hill now no opposition brushed his path. "It appears the all maker has grown in our favor if this was all that trailed us." He added, foot halting just at the puddling red of one dead, him peering down through his good at its ghostly pale eyes.
"I doubt that truly was all, we should leave before more find us." Balphamire breather heavily, returning his blade to his side and coming to shake strongly with his friend. "Thank you once more for the help" his grin shinned with the sun.
"As much as I agree we should leave, we appear to be stuck..." Kyplore shifted to dim whisper as he leaned in to his ear, Kelnmock just close enough to make out the words he spoke, "if he's moved, he'll die. We must stay at least another night."
"Damn." Balphamire hissed, limping to the general center of the others.
"What's wrong?" Orglien pronounced his concern, worry in the eye moving back and forth from Kyplore to Balphamire. "Jobleir is fine, correct?"
"While he's alive it is just barely. He was shot with a tipped arrow." Kyplore answered the man, removing his cloth as what appeared to be a sign of respect by the looks in his eyes, "He'll need the night to recover from the poison." His palm now rested upon the man's massive armored shoulders, a tear forming down the brute's eyelids.
"Curse those things..." His lungs worked slowly with hesitation.
"Do what do we do when the rest find us?" Lician puzzled at the numerous dead, attempting to return question to the topic of survival. "If we must stay for his recovery what of their scouts that petrol these lands? As soon as they see these bodies--"
