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 ^{(it's beta!)}

I wrote this in a hurry one Friday morning, before I went to work. It's a description of what I saw in a dream (I have very vivid and fantastic dreams), just before I woke up. It was an amazing scene, and I just couldn't let it die slowly in my memory. This excerpt here is independent. It is not a part of any existing storyline or roleplay.

The lake shimmered like glass under the indigo night sky, the moon perfectly reflected in the peaceful, unmoving water. Tonight, the soft wind barely touched it, although the air carried a faint sent of gunpowder and fire. Everything felt unnaturally tense, like the folds in a piece of fabric as someone tugs from the corner. Barely a sound could be heard, but it seemed as if the night was anticipating a dramatic disturbance in the near future.

This large body of water served to separate the human settlement on one side, and an enemy orc encampment on the other. It was a time of war between the two races, and The Observer knew that in the morning, there would be battle. The orcs had an attack planned, but the humans knew of this and planned an interception.

There was someone else on the water, The Observer realized, as he stood rigid on a small, ornate boat, following the smooth, eroded cliffs that bordered much of the lake. The boat did not seem to be propelled by any conventional means, but glided along the water with obvious intent.

The passenger it carried seemed to be a part of the blue haze of the night. He appeared human enough, but his skin was pale lavender, and the sides of his face seemed to glitter like the heavens. The Observer’s hair was wild and stood out in all directions, like an explosion frozen in time. It was colored white, and blue, and red, and every color under the moon. The hair, too, glittered electrically with sparkles and mother-of-pearl. Silken azure robes hung luxuriously from his shoulders, moving gracefully in the gentle evening breeze.

As he passed another rocky cliff, his suspicion was confirmed. A human drifted across the water on a haphazardly constructed raft of wood planks. He knelt on it for balance, his dark, wary eyes focused on the shore in front of him. The stranger was not so elegant in appearance as The Observer. He had handsome features, but his ragged clothing was dirty and torn, his hair riled and sloppily cut. The man’s face was contorted in angry determination, and seemed to hold a shifty sort of evil.

This human was sailing straight for the orc encampment on the opposite side of the lake from where he’d come. And indeed, on the other side, a pair of orcs stood near a campfire, waiting for him. They were not armed for battle. The looks exchange between them were communicative, and mutually understanding. This human, The Observer concluded, was committing betrayal.

The Observer, who had not yet been noticed by either party, willed his boat to stop. He watched as the human arrived at the orc encampment, and began to exchange words. At this distance, it was impossible to hear them, but that was easily corrected. The Observer opened his mouth. A series of soft, glowing blue rings emitted from where he stood, growing wider and dimmer as they moved across the water.

The Observer was not interested in sparking a battle, nor did he intend to pass information to either side of the mortal dispute. His goal was merely to observe, and a convenient spell to make the conversation audible made this much simpler.

The human and the orcs were discussing an ideal bargain. The human would sabotage his own forces in exchange for riches. The Observer knew the human was foolish to trust the orcs. They were not an intelligent race, but it did not take a great deal of intelligence to lie and deceive.

Suddenly the human turned around, his eyes fixed directly on The Observer. Casually he drew his bow, not looking at all surprised. He let loose an arrow aimed directly at the night spirit. The arrow head glinted. It was enchanted.

The Observer lifted his hand and easily caught the arrow, then dropped it into the water. The man let more arrows fly, higher and lower, leftward and rightward, but The Observer caught every one.

The spirit turned his boat around and began to sail off. There was no point in lingering here, as he did not wish to enter battle. He caught the arrows behind his back as they continued their futile assault.

The man hesitated before shooting the next arrow. The Observer closed his hand to catch it, but this time he missed. This arrow had not been aimed at his back like the others. Instead, as it closed in on the spirit, it very suddenly veered upward.

The Observer whirled around, turning his head up to watch it. The archer shot another arrow, and another, and another, all following the same unnatural path.

Then as one, the arrows rained down on The Observer.

In the sky, the pallid, emotionless moon silently played witness.

P.S. Yes, I dreamed about orcs. I would not have used them in any piece of writing if I did not have a reason like that to include them.