I do not won Forgotten Realms.
This story orginated in a sugar high (thank God for lemonade) and since I'm
completing this story so Gwen6 will do Rising Powers I decided to go back,
adding more detail and such and such. Enjoy. ^_^
There were five of them- each armed with a long sword and mounted on worgs.
Their leader saw the rider moving towards them on a massive, grey stallion and brought his mount forward,
"Halt."
The rider tugged at their horse's mane- for they rode back backed. A grey cloak covered their entire body and their wide hood hid their face.
"You come onto Iron Tusk Clan land. Pay gold and we let you leave."
"Or?" the rider's hand moved to their waist.
The orc grinned and drew his sword in an obvious gesture.
The rider's hand blurred as they withdrew it from her cloak. A throwing knife hissed as it flew through the air, meeting the lead orc's throat with a meaty thud and the orc in question fell backwards onto the road.
Its mount leapt for the rider, jaws foaming. Black metal rammed into its wide, fang-studded maw and up, into its brain.
The rider drew back their sword- a long, slightly curved one called a katana, made of black metal- and kicked her horse forward.
Her mount gave an unearthly scream and, with impossible speed charged towards the remaining orcs. Only now did they see the long fangs that rose up on either side of its mouth and the eyes that glowed with the same crimson colour as blood.
The next worg-mounted orc darted to the side of the horse, trying to reach the vunerable belly. Hooves, as black as night and harder than iron, crushed the worg's skull as the katana found its master's throat.
The rider tossed the cloak away from her body and shook her hood away from her head.
From the long pointed ears and beautiful elegant features she was an elf. Unusually her skin and hair were as white as alabastar. Even her lips and eyelashes were devoid of colour. Her clothes were either black or non- descript shades of grey. The only colour on her entire person were her vivid, emerald green eyes.
There was no emotion on her face. No exciment- no fear- no exilaration- nothing.
The orcs and slender, white elf met each other's charge head on.
*
She wiped the gore off her blade. The corspes would feed the scavengers for days. For the ledgenary warrior, Yami Shadowblade, these orcs had been no problem.
Yami Shadowblade- armoured only in night, riding into battle on the hell horse Ceffyl and wielded Marwolaeth the Death Bringer.
Yami sheathed Marwolaeth and called to Ceffyl. Mounting she continued up the road, alone.
Such was the way of Yami.
There were five of them- each armed with a long sword and mounted on worgs.
Their leader saw the rider moving towards them on a massive, grey stallion and brought his mount forward,
"Halt."
The rider tugged at their horse's mane- for they rode back backed. A grey cloak covered their entire body and their wide hood hid their face.
"You come onto Iron Tusk Clan land. Pay gold and we let you leave."
"Or?" the rider's hand moved to their waist.
The orc grinned and drew his sword in an obvious gesture.
The rider's hand blurred as they withdrew it from her cloak. A throwing knife hissed as it flew through the air, meeting the lead orc's throat with a meaty thud and the orc in question fell backwards onto the road.
Its mount leapt for the rider, jaws foaming. Black metal rammed into its wide, fang-studded maw and up, into its brain.
The rider drew back their sword- a long, slightly curved one called a katana, made of black metal- and kicked her horse forward.
Her mount gave an unearthly scream and, with impossible speed charged towards the remaining orcs. Only now did they see the long fangs that rose up on either side of its mouth and the eyes that glowed with the same crimson colour as blood.
The next worg-mounted orc darted to the side of the horse, trying to reach the vunerable belly. Hooves, as black as night and harder than iron, crushed the worg's skull as the katana found its master's throat.
The rider tossed the cloak away from her body and shook her hood away from her head.
From the long pointed ears and beautiful elegant features she was an elf. Unusually her skin and hair were as white as alabastar. Even her lips and eyelashes were devoid of colour. Her clothes were either black or non- descript shades of grey. The only colour on her entire person were her vivid, emerald green eyes.
There was no emotion on her face. No exciment- no fear- no exilaration- nothing.
The orcs and slender, white elf met each other's charge head on.
*
She wiped the gore off her blade. The corspes would feed the scavengers for days. For the ledgenary warrior, Yami Shadowblade, these orcs had been no problem.
Yami Shadowblade- armoured only in night, riding into battle on the hell horse Ceffyl and wielded Marwolaeth the Death Bringer.
Yami sheathed Marwolaeth and called to Ceffyl. Mounting she continued up the road, alone.
Such was the way of Yami.