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The Midnight Brigade

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Poll

What would you want to see more?
A.) A movie
31%
B.) Your car broken into
8%
C.) A concert with your favorite band
8%
D.) Sorry, could you repeat the question?
23%
E.) Your friends getting hammered!
31%
Total votes: 13

Stonehammer

Silverboots's picture

 

The mighty oak stood its ground, the rough wood bark pressing firmly against her back as she leaned against it, leaving an imprint against her bare skin like a memory not wanting to fade. Oakenhome. 
 
The breeze moved through her tresses gently teasing her neck, so she tied the locks with a cord of rawhide. The Oakenhome River called to her invitingly, but she did not heed the water’s call or move to its yearning, not yet. The image of the shimmering surface reflected with enchantment in a haziness that blurred her vision and thoughts coupled by the salt mingled moisture that tickled her cheek. With the back of her hand she roughly brushed the wayward tear away.
 
They don’t know, she thinks as she watches carpenter ants trail the oak’s root to the hollowed out galleries carpeted by the sawdust of their handiwork. She feels the emptiness etched in the wounded wood like the void pressing against her own heart, the pain pressing her deeper into the molding of the tree.
 
Time passes and she exhales deeply, her shoulders falling in the release. It is not the first time she had to leave this river, not the first time Oakenhome saw her backside growing smaller in the distance. She reaches for a handful of sandy riverbed earth and feels the coolness of its rich life in her hand. All she ever wanted was a bit of earth to call her own, but then this phantom place took her heart and possessed her. How did that happen? How did Oakenhome take her soul? Not even her hometown of D’rakke Hus spoke to her as this place did.
 
But then she remembers the battles cries and the blood spilt and suddenly lets the dirt fall from her troubled fingers. Pushing away from the tree, she tests the strength in her legs and brushes her hands coarsely against the grass, longing to see the red stained soil come free. As she enters the cool, snowmelt waters one last time, she realizes the haunts of the hallowed battle ground cannot bind her to this place; she must walk with the living. In deep resolve, she prepares to leave for Stonehammer with the surge of Silver Dragons and their talons.