Terror in Greshfell

Rohlen slumped heavily to ground, physically and mentally exhausted, his arcane abilities taking its toll upon his body. The majority of the fires had been dis-spelled, leaving only a few dying embers a soft glow amidst the pouring rain.

Yulien, dismounting from her stead, ran to her brother’s side.

“Watch over them!” he said ushering her away. “They will need you more than I.”

“Then rest brother, you have pushed yourself too far.”

“Most likely,” he replied before closing his eyes to sleep.

Yulien turned her gaze to her other companions, and watched as they harried and slashed for all they were worth, but to no avail. The green tide continued to regroup and refocus now that the erupting flames had died.

“Okay goblin,” she whispered defiantly, “time to show you your greatest fear.”

Casting her arms through the air and reciting lines from ancient scriptures, pulses of magical energy began to dance and weave around her body. Rohlen woke suddenly, still weak he shouted unheard to his sister,

“No! You promised.”

It was too late, for the spell had been cast. Inside Greshfell a fog began to lift from the ground, and with it, an ethereal army of once dead knights, each armed with sword and shield.

Once again panic and chaos filled the streets. Upon sight, the risen army sent the goblin fleeing for their lives as ghostly swords sent goblin after goblin to their demise from even the merest of touch.

“The army of Shala!” remarked Jax seeing the horde fleeing from Greshfell.

“Then they too shall fall by my blade” replied Tumbor, taking a huge swipe at one of the apparitions.

The blade sliced through without resistance, the figure disintegrating to nothing but a smokey vapour, before evaporating to nothing within the rain.

“I think not,” said Fraevon watching as two past him closely without malice, instead ignoring him in favour of further away goblin.

“No matter, they die easily enough,” laughed the dwarf.

Meanwhile, Rohlen had made it to his feet, and was now nursing his ailing sister. She cried out in pain, as if she had taken a fatal blow, but yet no marks were viable upon her.

“Why?” he asked of his sister, cradling her in his arms.

“They will flee,” she replied before screaming out in pain once more. And she was right. The horde of greenskin were abandoning Greshfell in complete terror, making there way with haste in all manner of directions.

“It is no fun if they don’t hit back,” said Jax, lashing out and dispatching another.

Fraevon, sensing something wasn’t quite right by the virtue of their non hostility towards them, urged Jax and Tumbor to cease their attacks.

Ignoring the Elf,  Tumbor brought his axe down upon another of the ghostly figures, however he didn’t so much as kill the one, but caused them all to be reduced to dying wisps of smoke in the rain.

Rohlen wept as his sister cried out in pain, before then closing her eyes and falling silent. He checked to see if Death had claimed her, and with much relief he discovered he had not. The two siblings lay upon the muddy rain soaked floor and slept.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown 


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