((Forgive my inactivity, I'm not doing so well this week.))
They shaved her head, her long golden locks fell to the ground, as if they themselves had been disgraced. Captain Silvar was thrown, bound, into the ocean and sank to his doom. Marie had the branding Iron taken to her now bald head and the crude tattoo of the unfaithful was pressed there for all eternity.
She was cast out from the castle, the king was beside himself with rage and despair, so much so that the affairs of state began to wearon his weakened pschye. He took to the bottle, hoping to drown out his sorrows in copius amounts of alchol. This further weakened the bond between church and state. The brothers of Saint Eve'lyn of the Guiding Light began to dissent their king, disobeying his orders in favor of their Father Abbot's.
Disgraced Marie Dun Eff'ngham disappeared from the public eye, after she had been thrown from the castle, in nothing but a dirtied white dress. The world had beeen suddenly, inescapably ruined for the queen.
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Ranger Ryn'ntar Toro'eth used his blade more for defense then attack. He used his elven sword to send his enemies' swords into other orcs. His movements were perfectly balanced and unlike his companions, his moves were measured, neat and deadly accurate.
Two of the larger orcs rushed at the ranger. Using his sword, Ryn'ntar parried a sloppy overhanded slash and sent the blade spinning out of the orc's hands with a kick. The sword flew from the orc's grip and plunged to the hilt in the belly of Ryn'ntar's second attacker. Followinng through with his kick, Ryn'ntar spun around his blade leading the way and made a leathal gash through the orc's breastplate. Each orc was dead, before they hit the ground.
Fumbledumb the Bold watched as one of the humans killed two of his comrades, no not his comrades simply buisnesss associates. As the first fell, a sword plunged through it's stomach, Fumbledumb took the opportunity to scramble under the corpse. He lay very quiet and still, not even disturbing the dust being kicked up by the combatants.
Ryn'ntar backed up a step, as a minion of the Demon Giant stabbed at him with a long spear. As the Orc withdrew hsi weapon, intending to stab at Ryn'ntar again, the ranger stepped in and took ahold of the shaft of the spear and tore it from the orc's grip. He spun with his momentum and brought it around to crack intto the orc's head with enough force to snap the orc's neck, ina sickening crunch.
The battle raged and Ryn'ntar, honed from eleven years of preparing for combat, never tired. His blade kept him energized and his movements were to quick for the eye to follow. The blade moved silently through the air, each move perfectly balanced and executed. The elven sword dance became more noticeable in his attacks.
