Saga - Part I
Feb. 11th, 2009 07:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amarthielI saw a massacre today.
Someone called it out early on, and I came just to see what could be seen; hey, any situation that could potentially turn a profit bears investigation. Ol' Magni and his folk are tight-fisted most of the time, but, hell- protecting their city against the invading Horde? Worth some kind of commendation, probably.
There were only two when I got there, cutting down anyone stupid enough to come their way... I saw a number of young would-be heroes considering joining the fray, only to be dissuaded as the tried and true warriors fell to the ground. Nevertheless, they only fought those who attacked them; they stood far from the gates of the City, a tempting presence but hardly a threat. In ones and twos came my Allies, and they fell beneath the bull's great blade and the fiery-eyed trolls spells. It was irresistable. They swarmed like moths to their death while I watched, one or another occasionally cursing at me for not helping.
I stood, open to any attack the Horde chose to make, waiting. After a time a third came to join them, a younger troll woman. She looked oddly familiar; it sent a chill down my spine to meet her eyes, as though she knew something she would not tell. Beside her was a great white cat; she joined in the fray as the others had, leaving me alone.
And then the armies came.
There were dozens, elves and men mostly, with a few gnomes (I've never trusted gnomes; they're too damned crafty for my taste,) following all Paths. Rogues side by side with Paladins; summoners and druids... They gathered, bloodlust in their eyes, muttering curses and jeering at the lone members of the Horde. And then they swarmed them; flashing blades and the blur of magics- arcane and holy, dark and burning- hid the Warrior, the Shaman, and the Huntress from my view.
When the flood of Allies parted I felt my stomach lurch at the broken bodies. Of the Horde! They're our enemies, aren't they? Shouldn't I have rejoiced? Shouldn't I have helped?
"Bitches," snarled one as she stalked off. "Get the fuck out," growled another, kicking snow onto one of the dead. They walked off, patting each other on the back... Thirty against three, a noble victory.
The fight of the Alliance is not my fight, unless they buy my sword... This is not my fight.
And if it were... I wonder what side I would be on...
Someone called it out early on, and I came just to see what could be seen; hey, any situation that could potentially turn a profit bears investigation. Ol' Magni and his folk are tight-fisted most of the time, but, hell- protecting their city against the invading Horde? Worth some kind of commendation, probably.
There were only two when I got there, cutting down anyone stupid enough to come their way... I saw a number of young would-be heroes considering joining the fray, only to be dissuaded as the tried and true warriors fell to the ground. Nevertheless, they only fought those who attacked them; they stood far from the gates of the City, a tempting presence but hardly a threat. In ones and twos came my Allies, and they fell beneath the bull's great blade and the fiery-eyed trolls spells. It was irresistable. They swarmed like moths to their death while I watched, one or another occasionally cursing at me for not helping.
I stood, open to any attack the Horde chose to make, waiting. After a time a third came to join them, a younger troll woman. She looked oddly familiar; it sent a chill down my spine to meet her eyes, as though she knew something she would not tell. Beside her was a great white cat; she joined in the fray as the others had, leaving me alone.
And then the armies came.
There were dozens, elves and men mostly, with a few gnomes (I've never trusted gnomes; they're too damned crafty for my taste,) following all Paths. Rogues side by side with Paladins; summoners and druids... They gathered, bloodlust in their eyes, muttering curses and jeering at the lone members of the Horde. And then they swarmed them; flashing blades and the blur of magics- arcane and holy, dark and burning- hid the Warrior, the Shaman, and the Huntress from my view.
When the flood of Allies parted I felt my stomach lurch at the broken bodies. Of the Horde! They're our enemies, aren't they? Shouldn't I have rejoiced? Shouldn't I have helped?
"Bitches," snarled one as she stalked off. "Get the fuck out," growled another, kicking snow onto one of the dead. They walked off, patting each other on the back... Thirty against three, a noble victory.
The fight of the Alliance is not my fight, unless they buy my sword... This is not my fight.
And if it were... I wonder what side I would be on...
