IDONTCAREABOUTYOURSORRYGIFSJUSTANSWERTHEDAMNQUESTIONBEFOREYOUENDUPASHARTEREDHUSK
73 BOB-OMBS
Okay, here's the story:
Sif and I kept hearing rumors. The whispers we heard were of tragic proportions, of darkness kindled in abyssal depths... We heard of a warlock, more of a vagabond really, who had long since mastered the art of summoning. His treacherous experiments left dents in small towns here and there. Minor thoughts, we heard, but major and with consistency enough to look into. Looking into it, we found that the tale was like that of a Mangus Root Tree. The deeper we searched the more our suspicions were turned into fears. There was indeed a warlock, or Drasel Orc, secreted somewhere along the shores of the Varden River.
What confirmed it was a small flask of blood we uh...well...procured from some shady merchants. It was strange in consistancy, and Sif insisted that it was Wolfen, despite never encountering one before. As dragons are gifted with wisdom and knowledge beyond their years, I chalked the statement up to ancient instinct. For six months we flew the Varden. On the seventh, in the dead of Winter, some of my magic clashed up against that of a cloaking ward. The cave was inside the heart of the river, underneath rapids that sought to choke the lifegiving air it provided. Sif could not accompany me inside, but I knew that I had his strength to rely on if things got grim.
Hoisting Bjartiss, my sword, out of its scabbard, the roaring marine entrance became a distant memory. Minutes seemed like hours, but finally, a light grew out of the blackness before me. It was a refuge, built by Reaklings no doubt, but cultured by the magic of Snow Elves. Geyser Lake's river was rerouted into the moss-lit clearing. The Mosi Ond, or Glow Moss, provided enough light for trees to grow, which were fed by the waterfall itself. Admiring this beauty made me unaware of the growing army before me. What I faced was one of the scariest sights I've seen in all my years with Sif. Thirty creatures glowered there, ruffs standing, tails bristling, eyes gleaming, and fangs shining. Thirty creatures, thirty...
Wolfen
108 bob-ombs