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Adela nodded. "What now?" she looked at the floor, crouched and picked up a pebble.
"At the foot of Mount Tibor, surrounded and outnumbered, the Order's only chance lay in this sword - the Runeblade.
The weapon was borne by the warrior Heron, and the dragon, Arokh. As the armies clashed, Navaros entered a mystic trance, drawing power for a massive spell of destruction. With the stolen strength of his dragon's soul, Navaros had grown far mightier than any mage before him. As the words of destruction rose to his lips, a lone dragon came shrieking from the clouds, weaving amidst the streams of lightning and fire that flooded the sky. On Arokh's back, Heron gripped the Runeblade in both hands, and with one final cry, drove it deep into Navaros' blackened heart. All sound went silent somehow, in the moment of the act. The tremendous forces Navaros had summoned were unleashed without direction. The clash of swords was heard no longer, and blackness hung over the field. When at last the smoke cleared, the two great armies lay decimated. Where Navaros had stood, a wound-like rip had been torn in the very fabric of space. In the smouldering crater below, Heron lay dead, the Runeblade broken in two at his side. In that blackened pit, only the dragon Arokh still clung to life..."
Legend of the Order of the Flame, of Arokh the Hero and Heron the Mighty Rider of how they saved the world of Drakan...
Adela shrugged "Me either...," then she looked up and saw three demons coming down, and by the look on their faces, she could tell they were up for a fight. "Oh, great...," she murmured under her breath and spread her wings.
"At the foot of Mount Tibor, surrounded and outnumbered, the Order's only chance lay in this sword - the Runeblade.
The weapon was borne by the warrior Heron, and the dragon, Arokh. As the armies clashed, Navaros entered a mystic trance, drawing power for a massive spell of destruction. With the stolen strength of his dragon's soul, Navaros had grown far mightier than any mage before him. As the words of destruction rose to his lips, a lone dragon came shrieking from the clouds, weaving amidst the streams of lightning and fire that flooded the sky. On Arokh's back, Heron gripped the Runeblade in both hands, and with one final cry, drove it deep into Navaros' blackened heart. All sound went silent somehow, in the moment of the act. The tremendous forces Navaros had summoned were unleashed without direction. The clash of swords was heard no longer, and blackness hung over the field. When at last the smoke cleared, the two great armies lay decimated. Where Navaros had stood, a wound-like rip had been torn in the very fabric of space. In the smouldering crater below, Heron lay dead, the Runeblade broken in two at his side. In that blackened pit, only the dragon Arokh still clung to life..."
Legend of the Order of the Flame, of Arokh the Hero and Heron the Mighty Rider of how they saved the world of Drakan...
Adela raised her brows, it seemed like the demons changed their minds. They charged for her, grasped her by the hands and pinned her to the ground. "Let me go!" she shouted and kicked in protest, but the demons held her.
"At the foot of Mount Tibor, surrounded and outnumbered, the Order's only chance lay in this sword - the Runeblade.
The weapon was borne by the warrior Heron, and the dragon, Arokh. As the armies clashed, Navaros entered a mystic trance, drawing power for a massive spell of destruction. With the stolen strength of his dragon's soul, Navaros had grown far mightier than any mage before him. As the words of destruction rose to his lips, a lone dragon came shrieking from the clouds, weaving amidst the streams of lightning and fire that flooded the sky. On Arokh's back, Heron gripped the Runeblade in both hands, and with one final cry, drove it deep into Navaros' blackened heart. All sound went silent somehow, in the moment of the act. The tremendous forces Navaros had summoned were unleashed without direction. The clash of swords was heard no longer, and blackness hung over the field. When at last the smoke cleared, the two great armies lay decimated. Where Navaros had stood, a wound-like rip had been torn in the very fabric of space. In the smouldering crater below, Heron lay dead, the Runeblade broken in two at his side. In that blackened pit, only the dragon Arokh still clung to life..."
Legend of the Order of the Flame, of Arokh the Hero and Heron the Mighty Rider of how they saved the world of Drakan...
Adela sat up, scanning a scar they left her on the left hand. She cursed them under her breath, said a few apologizing prayers for her words, and looked up at Tyrande "Thanks...," she smiled.
"At the foot of Mount Tibor, surrounded and outnumbered, the Order's only chance lay in this sword - the Runeblade.
The weapon was borne by the warrior Heron, and the dragon, Arokh. As the armies clashed, Navaros entered a mystic trance, drawing power for a massive spell of destruction. With the stolen strength of his dragon's soul, Navaros had grown far mightier than any mage before him. As the words of destruction rose to his lips, a lone dragon came shrieking from the clouds, weaving amidst the streams of lightning and fire that flooded the sky. On Arokh's back, Heron gripped the Runeblade in both hands, and with one final cry, drove it deep into Navaros' blackened heart. All sound went silent somehow, in the moment of the act. The tremendous forces Navaros had summoned were unleashed without direction. The clash of swords was heard no longer, and blackness hung over the field. When at last the smoke cleared, the two great armies lay decimated. Where Navaros had stood, a wound-like rip had been torn in the very fabric of space. In the smouldering crater below, Heron lay dead, the Runeblade broken in two at his side. In that blackened pit, only the dragon Arokh still clung to life..."
Legend of the Order of the Flame, of Arokh the Hero and Heron the Mighty Rider of how they saved the world of Drakan...
Adela sighed "I know it feels weird for someone like you to save someone like me," she murmured, getting up. "But trust me, I've done it once before," she said, stretching her wings.
"At the foot of Mount Tibor, surrounded and outnumbered, the Order's only chance lay in this sword - the Runeblade.
The weapon was borne by the warrior Heron, and the dragon, Arokh. As the armies clashed, Navaros entered a mystic trance, drawing power for a massive spell of destruction. With the stolen strength of his dragon's soul, Navaros had grown far mightier than any mage before him. As the words of destruction rose to his lips, a lone dragon came shrieking from the clouds, weaving amidst the streams of lightning and fire that flooded the sky. On Arokh's back, Heron gripped the Runeblade in both hands, and with one final cry, drove it deep into Navaros' blackened heart. All sound went silent somehow, in the moment of the act. The tremendous forces Navaros had summoned were unleashed without direction. The clash of swords was heard no longer, and blackness hung over the field. When at last the smoke cleared, the two great armies lay decimated. Where Navaros had stood, a wound-like rip had been torn in the very fabric of space. In the smouldering crater below, Heron lay dead, the Runeblade broken in two at his side. In that blackened pit, only the dragon Arokh still clung to life..."
Legend of the Order of the Flame, of Arokh the Hero and Heron the Mighty Rider of how they saved the world of Drakan...