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The History of Drefan
By The Sacred Order
The human male on horseback rode through the throng of dwarves and orcs. The battle was already underway and the rancid odor of blood was thick in the air. The human scanned the battlefield for a brief moment.
"Hyahh!" Drefan kicked his heels into the horse's torso, and he engaged the battle. In his right hand, Drefan held a massive dwarven war hammer. In his left, a dwarven knife. In his youth, Drefan had frequented the dwarven stronghold to visit his childhood friend, Nakei, and indulge in drinking games with the dwarves. He had trained alongside his friend and was taught to fight with the weapons and armor of the dwarves. On the battlefield below the Firedrakes, he fought cunningly; he was one with the dwarves in battle.
A horn bellowed behind Drefan, ringing loudly from the dwarven stronghold. The gates began to open, uncovering behind them a female dwarven ranger, armor-cladded and weapon-ready, seated high on her steed and followed by an army of dwarven legionnaires.
Drefan smiled to himself. "Nakei," he whispered, "you've finally shown yourself."
Nakei raised her blade and charged into the battlefield, her legion following closely behind. In battle, the dwarven ranger fought with unbelievable prowess. Gradius had smiled on this warrior and blessed her with skills beyond those of her comrades. Wielding a blade in each hand, she slaughtered the orcs around her and stood unscathed.
"She's a monster!" the orcs said amongst themselves. Only moments after the arrival of Nakei, the orcs were in quick retreat. The horde fled back to their camps in the mountains from whence they came.
The human and dwarven rangers rode their horses together near the base of the Firedrakes. Alongside them, Kross, a dwarven child, rode on a third horse. Not far to the south, the dwarves were celebrating their great victory. The two rangers, too, carried the stench of ale.
"I watched you fight," Nakei commented, "You've acquired so much skill in so little time."
"You've seen nothing," in his drunken stupor, Drefan showed little modesty, "in time, I will surpass even you."
"You! A human! Surpass me? Surely, you jest! Drefan, I am nearly seventy years older than you! No human could ever surpass this dwarf!"
The dwarven child was silent and solemn. He was the youngest child in a family of eight children. Nakei was eldest. He kept silent when near his sister; her greatness kept him in awe. The two rangers drank their ale in roaring laughter, and the darkness of the night approached.
"There is something wrong," Kross broke the two rangers' laughter, "There is but silence coming from camp." The three quickly became silent and listened to the night. Campfires burned in the distance, but the common laughter of drunken dwarves were absent.
Kross mounted his horse, and went back to camp ahead. Drefan followed behind. In her drunken stupor, Nakei stumbled before being able to mount her steed, and was left behind. Halfway back to camp, Drefan and Kross heard a high-pitched cry come from behind. They stopped abruptly.
"Go on back to camp," Drefan said to Kross, "I will go to Nakei." The two separated. Drefan hurried back to Nakei. He found her on the ground with a flesh wound on her neck.
"Nakei!" he ran to her side, "Nakei! Wake up!" She opened her mouth, but no words escaped. Her eyes rolled back into her head. "Nakei! I'll bring you back to camp! I'll help you, Nakei!" Drefan lifted Nakei onto the horse, and rode back to camp.
"Help! Somebody help!" Drefan cried. The camp was silent as he approached it. The human did not find help. Scattered throughout the camp were corpses of dwarves, each yielding a flesh wound on the neck.
A tear ran past Drefan's cheek and down his chin. It fell onto Nakei's lifeless face. "This vampire," his teeth clenched, "He will pay..."