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www.THE-VIGILANT.com  

Tales of Tyria: Chapter 12 - Fight

If you missed it, here's a link to the previous Chapter.
 
As Skoldur raced towards the edge of the platform and the precipitous drop into the pit time seemed to slow for him.  One week ago, he had been at home wondering why Bear would not bless him.  Three days ago he had been in Hoelbrak trying to get answers from the Shamans.  One day ago he had found himself trekking through the mountains with a sentient plant.  An hour ago he had been fighting a human who was now a fellow captive.  And just a minute ago he had seen something flitting through the trees that had stirred something inside of him.  Then he had heard the voice in his mind telling him that the deception was complete and now was time to spring the trap if only Skoldur would ackowledge his true self.

Origins of the Founders: Live to Fight

The first explosion went off just as Crikk and Ragnar reached the village perimeter. “That should get the undead’s attention.” Ragnar said aloud.

                “Indeed.” Crikk replied, “Focusing the attention of the undead onto our pretentious allies will give us just enough of a tactical advantage that we’ll be able to do significant damage to the enemy’s numbers.”

Origins of the Founders: Times Change

The agonizing screams erupted from ravaged town folk as the minions of Zhaitan poured in like the relentless waves of the sea. Instead of the usual salt water scent in the breeze, the overwhelming coppery aroma of blood clung in the air. The flood of destruction and devastation was unmatched, and the people of this once peaceful fishing community had little chance or warning. These minions came in like the tide, quiet and unnoticed and struck like a rip current, sharp and violent. Villagers scrambled in every direction just hoping for a sliver of a chance for survival. Homes burned, families were torn apart, and lives were lost. From the fires of the ignited huts, a thick cloud of smoke rose and filled the surrounding air with a vaporous fog.

Guild Chronicles - Chapter 1: Washed Ashore

Sand. His hand was resting on dry sand. It took a moment for the significance of this to register in Jason's exhausted mind, but when it did, he dared to crack open an eye and peer at his surroundings.
No undead. That was the first thing his mind registered. It gave him a sense of hope that had been missing for the past four days. The rest of the scene started to imprint on his consciousness. He was lying face down on a sandy beach. There were palm and other trees making a thick jungle starting about 50 feet from the shore. The beach was U-shaped, and he was lying at the base of the U. The sun was shining brightly down on him, warming him and telling him it must be almost mid-day.