Cold rain soaks the land as the clouds blanket out the stars and Nuarai's light, mud flings from the shoes of horses as a group of riders in dark gray longcloaks gallops, pursued by something in the night. Their way lit by a mixture of lanterns and floating balls of magic light. Orckish arrows wiz past the riders as they splash through a stream, one of the riders standing up in the saddle and turning, eyes glinting black as they knock their own arrow and loose. A scream of pain and a splashing thud sounds dully in the distance, muffled by the continual patter of rain. Another set of arrows loose, a horse screams in pain as a flank is hit, the horse stumbles but regains its footing the rider pulling the arrow loose and touching the injury with a faintly glowing hand, knitting flesh back together. A third rider pulls up motioning the others onward, their horse slowing as the other continue on. Hands move, words are spoken but lost to the rain, and darts of fire flash out into the darkness, screams of pain and surprise as the bolts strike and envelop their targets in a cocoon of scorching fire. The rider turns and pushes hard to catch up with their companions... riding hard... riding home...
Canas Delenda Est!
Remember to use the Dasaria Wiki!