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by Anucel
Rated: 13+ · Other · Fantasy · #1613622
Planet: Muskow. Battlefield set: Aringual. Coordinates: x:-357 y:240. Initializing...
         The battlefield of Aringual seemed rather peaceful this day. Of course, in the beginning it always does. Rurkur shook his head when he realized others were looking at him with his guard down.



"Well, alright then. Let's make them remember why we still hold this Valley! Right Tornat?" Rurkur raised his maul in the air toward the rising sun, gripping the haft fiercly.



Tornat shifted his feat uneasily, "Sure, go ahead and parade around you oaf! Just remember who you're protecting and keeping you from dying."



Rurkur only sighed, lowering the maul. "You know someday I wish you would grow a spine, Tornat. And throw some lightning every now and again. It's not like I dont just love being slashed at, dont get me wrong. But cmon man, its lightning!"



Tornat lifted his long gobbish nose into the air, "And then have no mana left to heal you. Sure, lets go with that." Tornat sniffed the air indignantly. You're named The Brave, not me.



A few moments later the Arena Gong sounded, three times. Preperation and readying of team strategies now takes place; each team planning out travel routes, attack pathes and plotting deadly combinations of spell, skill, ability and effectiveness alike. On the fourth sounding of the Arena Gong, either factions protection fields are lowered and battle begins.



Rurkur was one of the first out, in full charge to battle with the enemy faction. "There's no telling our strategies until we see who we face. I wouldn't like another match up against the Megi clan. They nearly got us all, save you and me Tornat!" he yelled behind himself to the meekly trailing Tornat.



"You don't need to remind me, I was healing us both for hours after that. I don't look forward to another day of you hissing and blowing on your wounds because they sting from salves...!" the last words were out of his throat like steam fresh on the boil.



"Zurdoo Clan!" Rurkur announced. "Looks like we're gonna get to fight again before the day is up, Tornat!"



Even Tornat couldn't resist a moan, "Oh, indeed. This should be as easy as crossing lava with a thistle raft!"



"You could at least try, oh mighty Pruist!" Rurkur roared in amusement.



Raising his maul in full charge at the oncoming Zurdoo assassin, Rurkur closed his eyes briefly concentrating on the divinity within his mind, focusing it to his weapon. When he opened them again he was in full righteous swing, completely smashing in the assassin's head. The body fell limp to the ground, soul oozing toward the skies above.



tbc...



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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1613622-There-aint-no-rest-for-the-Wicked--CTE