Friday, January 6, 2017

100 Words a Day 991

Drek stumbled down the stairs, tired and irate, preparing to scream at whoever was making such a racket. He was chagrined to find, rather than a group of rowdy travelers, there was a pack of rough men hemming a narrow elf in a wide semi-circle.

Despite their fierce appearance, the elf was resolute rather than fearful. He raised his arms and shrugged his shoulders, freeing his hands from the folds of his black robe. One of the men stepped forward, opening his mouth to speak. He was interrupted by a blast of fire green witchfire from the elf’s outstretched hand.

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