Role

Chapter 17

With a rumbling in the sky, the unmistakable image of the Hammersong could be
seen, beckoning the elders of Thera. Two emerald hued eyes gazed to the
southeastern sky through wisps of silver hair, a wry smile across her face.
Lasentia quickly made her way to the gathering of Theran heroes and legends,
knowing when the Hammersong holds sway, there is always something of
interest. She had been prevented from seeing the last challenge of his, she
would not be denied this time.

Many answered the Hammersong's call: Cala, Harbinger of Thar-Eris, along with
the cloud druid Balta. Gutulk, chieftain of the orcs with a lackey, Dugha.
Shiloh, the unholy priest, along with the Dark elven healer Plias. Two
storms, Vourecourl and Svuusk. Adach, the shapeshifter, and Jesmeus, a
conjurer, rounded out the participants. Amidst them all, the Hammersong. His
voice bellowed out there was to be a challenge, a free for all contest in the
Barren Wastelands below him. Use whatever strategy, whatever ally, whatever
means... to be the last one standing.

Lasentia asked if she might record the occasion, but the god merely sneered
at her. He told her that if she was there, she was going to participate. Same
as all the others. She curtsied before him, with little choice but to accept.
She glanced over to the orcs who had enlisted Shiloh and Plias. It was them.
They would be the threat. A threat she could delay by helping them until the
right moment. And so she did.

With a bellowing voice Thror let the event start. The heroes charged into the
Wastes below, and the fray was immediate. But foolish were too many, thinking
alone they could survive. The Storms and Balta fell first. Cala remained
hidden somewhere in the sands, while Jesmeus hid in an alcove, biding his
time.

The intensity of the fray lessened quickly, as it became a search for each
other in the sprawling sands and wastes. All the while, looking over the
wastes from his perch with a slight grin on his face sat the Hammersong.