Snippet #1475071

Duran was still shaking from his dream when Goma pawed her way out of the tent. She gave a whimper to assess the state of her master, and nudged his arm with her nose, allowing it to rest on her snout for a moment. Duran immediately snapped back to reality, and bent down and pecked Goma on the nose with his lips.

"Just a bad.." He hesitated for a second, not sure what word was best to describe it. "Just a dream, girl. Just a dream."

Suddenly, a loud voice resonated over the encampment.

"This is General Derenthi of the Legion of Ashes. Every unit not assigned to this outpost is required to report to the bonfire located in the middle of the tent masses immediately."

Duran looked back at his own tent, and then noticed that the voice was closer than it sounded. He got up and headed towards the center of the tents, not realizing that the clearing was so close to his own tent.

"Saves us a walk, at least." he thought.

As he arrived on the spot, he noticed that not many were there. The orcs had arrived just before him, missing a member of the family. Duran gritted his teeth and tried not to think too much about it. Shortly after, the harpies showed up, and then the Lamia with a halfling. He couldn't seem to recall the halfling's name or even her face, but he expected that considering the social distance he put between him and the rest of the legion. After that, the coming members seemed to be all one big blur.

At the center of them all was a Deep Human. Pins and medals adorned his armor. As a druid, he wasn't sure exactly what this meant, but he could at least figure that it meant they were standing before a very high ranking member of The Legion. Before Duran could think any more, the man spoke.

"Contrary to popular belief, the fortieth legion is not for rejects or oddities. It is a test. Those of you standing here are made of something greater than the average soldier...we simply needed some assurance that we were not mistaken in that assumption. The battle you just faced? A measure of your abilities. Do you think it is every day a legion of twenty-two fends off an assault three times their size? An assault comprised of combatants that are equal to three men each? Who can breath magical flames and tear a man apart with their bare hands? The answer is no. Had you been a normal unit, I would not be having the honor of speaking to you today.

It all suddenly dawned on Duran. They knew. They knew all along that the fortieth was probably being sent to their deaths. It was only by luck, skill, or some combination of them all that he and everybody else was alive. The rage began to well up inside him, and he fought the urge to scream at the top of his lungs that this man would have sooner seen the fortieth dead. He was actually glad he didn't have a weapon on him.

"It is my pleasure, to announce that you, newest members of the Legion of Ashes, have all been promoted. You are now apart of the Black Guard: The Vanguard unit of the Legion of Ashes."

Duran didn't know what that meant, and he hardly cared. He fought back the anger, and slowly the boiling rage became a simmer.

Suddenly, portals appeared behind the man, and from them a great deal of metal monstrosities. Some of them were carrying carts adorned with sheets, only to pull them away at the behest of Nhil. Upon the carts, all kinds of different items, from armor, to weapons, potions, and other assorted gear that, presumably, he would be taking with him into the next slaughter that this insane Deep Human had planned.

Wrath spoke next.

"In ten days the invasion upon the dragon-controlled territory will begin. We will cross the mountains dividing east and west Norr, and bring the fight to the dragons."

Duran fought the urge to scream once more at the insanity of this plan. Suddenly an image of him running himself through with a spear crossed his mind. Probably a less gruesome fate than whatever the dragons might have in mind. Duran came back to reality just in time for another portal to open, this one spewing forth several new forms.

---

Sarish Tal'Asir! Lamian cleric...oooh! That's rare, what's the name of the angel you venerate? Who's-"

Sarish let out a low hiss at the idea that a book was about to speak aloud his patron's name before being forced through the portal. As he passed through, he noted a circle of legionnaires. His characteristic smile formed on his lips, and he brushed his hair back. Immediately after he appeared, he heard his name.

"A pleasure, I'm sure." he said out loud with considerable smug and oozing an almost sickening amount of charisma. He slithered past and took a spot in the crowd next to the elven woman he had entered the portal with. He looked at her up and down, and raised an eyebrow. It was probably a good idea to keep his thoughts to himself for now.

Before Sarish realized it, they were cheering for some reason that he had not been paying attention to, though he did catch something about a pay raise.

Now get some sleep, it's late.

"Come now, it's far too late for sleep." Sarish thought to himself.

---

Duran walked back to his tent and sat down with Goma upon dismissal. He knew why he was angry, but he began to question himself.

"This is what I wanted, right? This is what we wanted, Goma. To get rid of those dragons. By any means necessary. I'm done moping around. The destruction of the dragons. It is our new objective, Goma. It was always our objective. I'm done being sorry, sad, and angry. We're going to do this, because if we don't, it is the end of us all, and I won't stand around feeling sorry for myself, waiting for the end. We will face it, Goma, and to Hell with what happens next."

Goma's tail wagged as a striking look of determination appeared on Duran's face.