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Description

They headed up further into the mountains, finding three more Drazirian outposts over the course of a week. The camps they found increased in size and complexity the higher they went. At the fourth outpost they found, they were almost outnumbered. One morning, ten days into their trek, Xartak was gone without a trace. Noryx wrote it off as simply desertion, but Ranyx suspected he went off to warn the Drazirians. They traveled for five more days, only finding one more outpost. As they set up camp for the twentieth night, Noryx was tallying the supplies in the wagon.

“Looks like we're running a little low on food,” Noryx said, “Dryton, why don't you go see if you can find us some dinner?” Ranyx grabbed his crossbow and stood up from the campfire. “Yes, Sir,” he said, and headed down into the lower forested region of the mountains. He searched for twenty minutes and saw nothing, not even a songbird. Damn Drazirians probably killed everything. Just then he heard some rustling. He crouched down and silently moved closer to see what it was. A skarrak scampered out of the bushes. Ranyx aimed, then lowered his crossbow again. He couldn't do it. He could only think of Fyke. The skarrak ran off. Ranyx sighed, then resumed his hunt. He had been searching for another ten minutes when he heard shouting off in the distance behind him. He started running back to camp as fast as he could, cursing himself for wandering so far away. As he ran it began raining. When he got back, he found the camp destroyed. There were a few dead Drazirians scattered about the wreckage, and a live one hunched over a blue Tarkan lying face-down in the mud. The Drazirian drew a knife, and Ranyx quickly shot him. Ranyx ran over and pushed the Drazirian aside. “Dad?!” Ranyx turned the Tarkan over. It wasn't Noryx. It was Max, and he was dead. Ranyx clenched his fists in rage and struck the ground in futile fury. Lightning flashed, and the rain turned into a downpour.

Description

They headed up further into the mountains, finding three more Drazirian outposts over the course of a week. The camps they found increased in size and complexity the higher they went. At the fourth outpost they found, they were almost outnumbered. One morning, ten days into their trek, Xartak was gone without a trace. Noryx wrote it off as simply desertion, but Ranyx suspected he went off to warn the Drazirians. They traveled for five more days, only finding one more outpost. As they set up camp for the twentieth night, Noryx was tallying the supplies in the wagon.

“Looks like we're running a little low on food,” Noryx said, “Dryton, why don't you go see if you can find us some dinner?” Ranyx grabbed his crossbow and stood up from the campfire. “Yes, Sir,” he said, and headed down into the lower forested region of the mountains. He searched for twenty minutes and saw nothing, not even a songbird. Damn Drazirians probably killed everything. Just then he heard some rustling. He crouched down and silently moved closer to see what it was. A skarrak scampered out of the bushes. Ranyx aimed, then lowered his crossbow again. He couldn't do it. He could only think of Fyke. The skarrak ran off. Ranyx sighed, then resumed his hunt. He had been searching for another ten minutes when he heard shouting off in the distance behind him. He started running back to camp as fast as he could, cursing himself for wandering so far away. As he ran it began raining. When he got back, he found the camp destroyed. There were a few dead Drazirians scattered about the wreckage, and a live one hunched over a blue Tarkan lying face-down in the mud. The Drazirian drew a knife, and Ranyx quickly shot him. Ranyx ran over and pushed the Drazirian aside. “Dad?!” Ranyx turned the Tarkan over. It wasn't Noryx. It was Max, and he was dead. Ranyx clenched his fists in rage and struck the ground in futile fury. Lightning flashed, and the rain turned into a downpour.