Silently, slowly, Stryker, the brown cloaked boy stalked the smaller Orc. He approached the rear most enemy; he drew his longest knife, a small handled elvish blade, with a blade not longer than 12 inches. He reached forwards, up several feet towards the Orc’s neck.
Stryker was no lover of Orcs, but was yet to slay any foe. Not eager to spill blood in the Inn without very good cause, and not knowing the Orcs true intentions, he placed the blade point lightly on the back of the Orc’s neck. The orc stood taller, but knowing his peril, did not turn around, nor draw blade. Stryker waited for the orc to react, or another to respond.
[ February 02, 2003: Message edited by: The Flame Of Anor ]
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-"I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the Flame of Anor. You cannot pass. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udun. Go back to the Shadow. You cannot pass!"
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