Nessilka had been in any number of battles, and she couldnât remember the first ten minutes of any of them.
She had a theory that if you could remember the first ten minutes, youâd never, ever charge at anybody again, so parts of your brain blotted them out.
The problem was that she couldnât imagine why her brain would want her to continue charging at people, and this then led her to the theory that parts of her brain worked for the Goblin High Command, which she didnât like at all.
Regardless, it was ten minutes into the battle, and she couldnât remember what had just happened. Thereâd been a lot of yelling. Everyone yelled. No matter what species you were, elf, human, goblin, orc, random bystander, you yelled. There had been a lot of hitting things. Her shield was bent in four or five places, and her arms ached dreadfully.
Algol went by at high speed, shield raised, with Mishkin and Mushkin practically stepping on his heels. Mishkin had gotten a sword from somewhere, and was waving it dangerously close to Algolâs kidneys. She had no idea how the battle was going, but she didnât seem to be dead, so from her perspective, everything was really going rather well. Unfortunately, Sergeant Nessilka had just seen a problem.
The problem stood on a little rise, just enough to lift him out of the battle proper. He looked human, and he wasnât wearing armor, or carrying any weapons.
He was doing something with his hands, and there was a blueness in the air around himânot really a blue light, per se, but the world around him was turning shades of blue, like something behind a pane of cobalt glass. That wasnât right. That was magic, that was.
A bolt of blueness streaked out from his open mouth, and hit a knot of goblins, who fell down.
Nessilka had been in any number of battles, and she couldnât remember the first ten minutes of any of them.
She had a theory that if you could remember the first ten minutes, youâd never, ever charge at anybody again, so parts of your brain blotted them out.
The problem was that she couldnât imagine why her brain would want her to continue charging at people, and this then led her to the theory that parts of her brain worked for the Goblin High Command, which she didnât like at all.
Regardless, it was ten minutes into the battle, and she couldnât remember what had just happened. Thereâd been a lot of yelling. Everyone yelled. No matter what species you were, elf, human, goblin, orc, random bystander, you yelled. There had been a lot of hitting things. Her shield was bent in four or five places, and her arms ached dreadfully.
Algol went by at high speed, shield raised, with Mishkin and Mushkin practically stepping on his heels. Mishkin had gotten a sword from somewhere, and was waving it dangerously close to Algolâs kidneys. She had no idea how the battle was going, but she didnât seem to be dead, so from her perspective, everything was really going rather well. Unfortunately, Sergeant Nessilka had just seen a problem.
The problem stood on a little rise, just enough to lift him out of the battle proper. He looked human, and he wasnât wearing armor, or carrying any weapons.
He was doing something with his hands, and there was a blueness in the air around himânot really a blue light, per se, but the world around him was turning shades of blue, like something behind a pane of cobalt glass. That wasnât right. That was magic, that was.
A bolt of blueness streaked out from his open mouth, and hit a knot of goblins, who fell down.