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Lament, Part 2

ArchivedUserArchivedUser Guest
edited December 2017 in Fan Stories

A flash of yellow light sizzles through the tree line, burrowing itself into the tree next to her head. Murra takes a moment to drop to her knees, moving in almost a snake-like manner around the tree, her eyes glancing towards the distance to see if she can peer to tell where the shot came from. “Nen -o i talv, naur -o i emel” she whispers into the air, a wisp of magic leaving her lips as a bow comes glimmering into existence in her hands. Drawing the sparkling bow as she aims into the distance, a soft fluorescent glow comes into her vision. She lets the magical arrow loose, it flies, weaving itself around a tree and connecting with a soft chunk into her target. The lanky woman then stands tall, the darkness of the night closing in around her as she saunters her way through the undergrowth. Her eyes glittering with magic as she gazes at the path in front of her, finally she comes around to the corpse of the assassin. A man in a black cloak, with a yellow glowing dagger on the ground next to him.

            The Elven woman gets down on one knee, resting her hand on the knife and lifting it up slowly. “Enchanted… With a bolt attack.” Murra stands up slowly again, the elven woman takes the dagger and turns it over, noticing a little emblem of a raven with bleeding eyes on the bottom of it. “Dirty birds…” she whispers under her breath.


            The next morning Murra pats the ground of which she had just buried the corpse she killed. She folds her hands together and gives a soft prayer, touching her forehead and then turning her back to the mound of earth. Reaching her hand down to grab her light sack she then looks out over the dew touched plants. The trees whispering with the light breeze as the young traveler starts to walk down a trodden path. The footsteps of many, people and animal, taming the wild growth. A sparrow twitters along behind her, hopping from tree branch to tree branch as she walks. Taking note of it she starts to whistle out a low tune, to which the bird responds.

            They continue like this, chirping and whistling for a few hours until a carriage comes into view. Three dwarven men and a human woman stand on the road beside the carriage, one of the dwarven males visibly shaking as he gestures to the carriage. Murra, curious as to the conversation, slowly walks closer to eavesdrop.

            The human woman, with wheat blonde hair, is standing with her arms crossed, as the bearded dwarf standing in front of her with his hands on his hips. “Listen here lassie, I don’t care if you’re some rich arse’s daughter, We won’t be reaching your town by sundown at this route if we can’t fix the damn carriage. I don’t know bout’ you but I don’t seem to see any tools that we can use either. Your father perently didn’t think about that when he stocked it full of your fancy boxes and garments.”

            “Gredfor, you know my father is going to cut your pay if you take your time. He might even put your head on the chopper if you don’t get this fixed.” With a very nasally and prissy tone she stands, making her back straighter as she raises her nose higher. Obviously adding a weight of height on top of the poor dwarfs paycheck.

            “Aye aye, and he’ll definitely do that if he finds out his only daughter met an unfortunate fate at the hands of ravenous wolves.” Gredfor goes back to his men, noticing the eavesdropping elf he gives her a wink, a grimace, followed by a stank-face as if he just smelled something horrible. All while rolling his eyes towards the girl. “Alright men, let’s build a camp to wait out the night.”  


            Murra, with a pause, gestures into the air in front of her, forming a hammer and then walks over to the carriage, looking it over. The noble’s daughter looks at this and with a loud huff she walks over to the three dwarves. “Look! A thief is even messing with my carriage and you tards can’t even see her.” Gredfor grimaces.
            “If she was a thief then why is she looking to repair the carriage, lassie?”
            “I don’t know, why does dirt become mud when wet?”

            Murra, chuckling to herself says in a whispy song toned voice. “Why does nature do, what it does? Êl síla erin lû e-govaned 'wîn.” She picks up the wheel, looking around and noticing that the axel had broken in two she starts to weave magic around the chunks of wood on the ground. Bringing them together with almost of a translucent glue that holds the wood together and makes a makeshift repair. Then she slips the wheel on. Using nails made out of wood she hammers the wheel back onto the axel, then looks over at the dwarves and gives a soft smile. “Magic is quite useful” she says as she walks over to them, solidifying the hammer she was holding and giving it to the apparent leader of the dwarves.

            “Ahh and you elves sure to come through when disaster strikes. How long will this hamma last?” Gredfor asks, turning it over in his hands and running his fingers along it.

            Before the elf is given a chance to answer, a shrill sound comes from the carriage, then the head of the girl appears from the window. “Let’s GO before I have to spend one more moment in these dreadful woods! The birds are absolutely driving me crazy with all of their useless babble!”

            Murra, with an apologetic look to the dwarves, smiles then holds up three fingers.

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