Disclaimer: I do not own magic: the gathering, any similarities to other story lines are purely coincidental.
Do NOT copy this. If you want to you MUST contact me to gain permission.
Woah, I didn't realise how many mistakes I made in the first chapter. My apologies to all. I assure you, this one will be proof-read. Sorry for it being late, have had a lot of work to do lately. Well hopefully the next one will be done quicker.
Chapter Two- Entrances and Exits
As was known by most the noise level of the saloon dramatically increased. This was discomforting to Jeron, but yet he stayed. This stubborn for want of lack of leaving became clear to Hukane. Seemingly the kobolds had realised what was about to happen before Hukane.
With almost animal instinct, Hukane, as well as the higher ranking kobolds painstakingly rushed upstairs. Jeron, anger seething from every orifice, stood in a graceful manner. Like walking on desert stand each step he took was definite and overly required in it's strength. Grabbing what seemed to be the leader of the group Jeron was strong with his arms, but polite with his voice. "Excuse kind sir, but you and your group kindly keep it down.". As Jeron expected, this brought anger to the man.
Hukane now watching from the top of the stairs met with Jeron's gaze. This was almost a psychic conversation in the space of a second that notified that what was going to happen next need not happen in the saloon. In utter disdain and disapproval of the group-leader Jeron walked outside.
To Jeron's surprise another event had surfaces outside, just as the group-leader followed him. This was not a man-made disturbance however. By some means a couple of lurkers had ventured out of their caves in a mating brawl. The fight must have been going all night, as they usually don't venture out during the day. As was almost thought before seen, several building had been damaged in the fray. Astonished at the lack of reaction Jeron drew his gun. With perfect marksmanship, and two bullets late the lurkers were left lying on the floor with holes in their heads.
Before the crowd could turn and cheer, Jeron turned on his hells, digging the spurs into the dusty ground with his spurs, to face and confront the group-leader. With his tail between his legs the man run, but looking up. This time more cautiously Jeron once again moved 180 degrees. It was a sky caravan, for one as travelled as Jeron is was not a wondrous site, but Jeron was few in the town who had ever ventured out.
The large blimp-like structure beckoned down to the north of the town. Traders no doubt, and the kind of people Jeron doesn't like. The traders swiftness to get to the town was great, and their accuracy was military. Setting up stools, and putting the items on them. These were not wholly human however, they were metathran; well what was left of the metathran. No longer sleek and efficient they had become more human and overall weaker.
By the shouts that were emanating from the metathran, it was clear that they were not rogue traders, but rather under someone's command. The shadow cast by the craft was protecting the traders from the searing heat that the locals had become accustom to. Within five minutes trading, though mostly shouting commenced.
In disdain at the noise Jeron went to walk away, but this came with needed strength. A distinct urge, which he had not noticed before, came over him to stay even though his own free will didn't want him to. Then he saw it, there was a crystal in the ships hull. It was drawing him, and nearly all the villagers to trade. This must stop, yet his own arms forsaken him. With one last exhausting push his arms gripped his gun and the bullet fired.
Being if crystal a normal bullet would have bounced right off, but with infused with white mana of his own device the crystal disenchanted and was shattered. The metathran angered attacked the confused villagers coming out of their mind control. Jeron fell helpless to the floor; and being noticed seemed demise.
The last thing seen by Jeron as he was still falling was the blueish arms of a metathran picking him up into the aerostat by which they now departed just avoiding the myriad of bullets firing at them.
It had been days that his exhaustion had lasted, his mouth only wet from the moist innards of the aerostat that the metathran needed to survive. Hands bound and his gun clearly on the other side of the ship the future seemed grim, death perceived as certain. Yet still why was he still alive then? Why was he being kept alive, albeit barely?
Well that's it for the second chapter. Please read and review, your feedback can make it better. Once again I assure you that I'll try and be quicker with the next chapter. Thanks for waiting..
- Lu Chao