The evening meal was winding down when it happened.
A messenger burst through the entrance, nearly eating dirt as he tripped over his own feet in his rush to reach Gorath. Blood dripped from a cut on his forehead, making him look like he'd been through a blender.
"Warchief! The eastern patrol—they're under attack!"
Every warrior in the hall went dead silent. Melisa could've heard a pin drop.
"Speak clearly," Gorath commanded, his voice cutting through the sudden quiet.
"Ambush! Syux mages everywhere! Fire and lightning raining from the sky!" The messenger gasped for breath like he'd been running for miles. "Captain Drex is dead. They need reinforcements now!"
The hall exploded into chaos. Warriors grabbed weapons from racks along the walls, metal clanging against metal. Orders flew back and forth like angry birds.
[Holy shit. It's actually happening. Either that or people are putting on one hell of a light show.]
