Cautious, tense; the Elven Rangers come closer. The Goblins have left wagons, axes, hewn timber and up-rooted stumps out in the cleared area. Their cloying stink hangs on the still air.
Lurking behind their palisades and perched in their towers, the Goblin archers stretch their bows, eager with anticipation. Strings stretch; barbed arrow-heads ready to fly- the She-Elves are well within range now. One eager archer can wait no longer…
One crooked shaft flies through the dawn air, with pitted iron head and greasy fletching. Aeronwen cries out in surprise as the missile seems to simply fall out of the bright morning sky, straight into her chest with a damp thud.
The battle has begun.
Beerman
2025-01-09 23:05:52 +0000 UTCPhillip
2025-01-06 03:11:26 +0000 UTC