Snippet #1488900

Laeral: Jurial Plains

The uncertain drops of rain became heavy with the advancement of another night. Since the absence of the legion the small town of Laeral had gone dormant once more, their last known bit of excitement vanishing with a tattooed female orc and falling back into the somewhat usual of what it was. A cross roads. In the shadows of the forest that lead towards the unmarked grave sites of Legionaries and Children alike four shadows detached themselves. Heavy forms striding at a calm pace, almost casual if one ignored the heavy armor that encased their bodies. Forms black and angular, not the armor of a Legionnaire or anything known for that matter. What poor amounts of forgotten torch lights slipped around the bodies, almost giving them a demonic look with fluid skin.

Most of the houses of the town were dark, leading down in steady rows and muddy streets to the only location with some life in it, Boulon Brother's Inn. The rumbling beginnings of thunder warning of another harsh night of rain. Each of the four stood at the entrance of the south road. Heads turned to glance at their neighbors but no sound was spoken as each readied their own weapon in turn. The right most of them flicking a catch over his shoulder as his left hand held onto a handle, following as a heavy object impacted into the mud behind him before dragging around the behemoth of a mace and lifting it up. The figure to his left raising his right arm, head turning a moment to regard to two crossbows that were expertly crafted into the armor, his other hand carefully pulling back the wires and fixing them in place. Beside him rattled the sound of a chain, the long coil of it falling to his feet as the whip was unfurled.

The last of the group stood still, watching the town before giving the barest of glances to the others and shaking his head. The other three broke off, slipping into the shadows of houses as their work began. The last figure looked up to the sky, rain sliding across the draconian shape of his helm as lighting streaked across the sky, illuminating the decayed and bony look that was worked into his armor, hands drawing up a club like weapon before hands dropped and rose rapidly, unhooking the folded form of the greater scythe as it swung out and locked into place, the blade almost half as tall as he was. The deafening roar almost covered the sound of smashing wood as his squad burst into the first of the houses. As the roar ended the silent gap was filled with the screams of the first of those fallen. He remained, watching as the small town began to stir to life, movement of those now rising and the sounds of others struggling to find items in the dark.

The was no thunder as the next house was breached, a heavy crunch and a shrill scream following, the first sound which could only be made by a heavy axe, the second by someone too close to escape it. Death and terror began to form a glorious melody as the sounds of their weapons moved to its tune, a symphony of death. The Greater Scythe user took it all in with a steady breath before looking forwards, once-black eye slits now filled with a glorious bloody crimson as he too entered the dying town of Laeral.

---

Aurran moved through one of the alleyways between houses, right hand firmly clasped around the wrist of his girlfriend Talli as they fled. The constant tap of his short sword at his side with each step a constant reminder that he could fight... only if it fell to nothing else. The rain had soaked through to their skin, icy drops that felt as if they stole away his warmth. Another shriek came from somewhere in the town, splintering wood and silence were the only other sounds that mixed with it.

He had no idea who was attacking yet this didn't match any story he had heard of the Children. Wasn't anyone trying to fight? Drawing to a stop he pressed his girlfriend's shoulder to the wall as he looked around the edge. Rain, muddy streets and lifeless houses greeted him. At the end of his site was the in, the haven where others could gather and fight back the attackers. Looking the other way showed more empty houses, yet just looking at them had his hair standing on end on his neck. Listening in he could only hear their breathing, no movement, no screams. Waterlogged mud and wood choked his sense of smell and, after tightening his grip on Talli's hand, rounded the corner in an attempt to flee.

Two steps. All it took was two steps until a heavily armored figure burst from one of the walls before him. Drawing up his free arm to shield his eyes from flecks of wood and splinters he gazed ahead at the figure. Ashen black armor with, what looked like, fiery read cracks spreading across it, spider-webbed as if the armor was ready to rupture all at once. Its angles were draconic in shape and resting over one should was a long haft attached to a massive mace head. The figure watched him almost casually. His hand released Talli and dropped to his sword, his other moving to his sheath to hide the nervous shake in his hand.

"What are you doing?" She pleaded with him as his arm began to draw the crude blade. Lifting it up to face his opponent as he widened his stance.

"Just run, I will protect you."

He glanced back in her silence to see if she understood and felt his mind stop as his heart died. Talli stood looking, but not at him. Her eyes drawn down with his at the greater scythe blade forced through her ribcage, hooked towards the sky. Even as the massive blade jerked upwards, he knew she was dead. Aurran only had time to face the front as the heavy mace slammed through and crushed his skull and neck.

---

The town managed a meager fight the deeper and closer they pushed towards the Inn, but their fight was determined well before engagement as the heavens wept for their loss. In the end the fours stood in the shell of the city, all life spent save their own, eyes searching in frustration for their prey that had escaped them. Their extermination was flawless but no sign of the Shawoman could be found. Turning around the attackers left at the same casual pace they arrived with, leaving the elements to drown or wash away those few that weren't fortunate enough to die under the force of the four.