The wind stilled for a mont, the oppressive tension giving way to an eerie silence. Every warrior in the Horde froze as a figure descended from the sky, its massive wings beating against the air with a deep, rhythmic whoosh. The torches flickered violently as the creature landed gracefully on the edge of their gathering, its talons gripping the rocky ground with unnerving precision.
It was unlike anything they had seen before. The being stood tall, its humanoid fra clad in sleek, feathered armor that shimred faintly in the torchlight. Its face was distinctly owl-like, with large, piercing eyes that seed to see through flesh and bone. A hooked beak glinted under the faint light, curved in what might have been a mocking smirk. Its plumage was a mix of silvery grays and blacks, blending perfectly with the night, and its wings, now folded against its back, radiated an aura of quiet power.
The Horde tensed. Weapons were drawn, claws flexed, and the goblins held their breath as the owl-being surveyed them with a mixture of disdain and amusent.
"Interesting," the figure began, its voice smooth and lilting, dripping with condescension. "An orc, ogres, and goblins… all marching under one banner. Such a curious sight. I must say, your preparedness is… comndable."
The Horde bristled at the mocking edge in his tone, but no one dared to act without Volk's word. The owl-being's eyes swept across the assembled warriors, lingering briefly on the ogres' hulking forms before settling on the smaller, scrappy goblins. It tilted its head to the side, as though studying a peculiar insect.
"How quaint," it continued, taking a step forward. Its talons scraped against the ground, sending a shrill skreee through the tense air. "To think that such a rabble could stand together, let alone face what lurks above."
A low growl rumbled through the Horde, but it was Volk who stepped forward, his crimson eyes blazing. The owl-being's gaze snapped to him instantly, and sothing in its deanor shifted. The smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, replaced by a flicker of irritation. Then, just as quickly, the mocking grin returned.
"And there he is," the owl-being said, spreading its wings slightly, as if to emphasize its dominance. "The leader of this little band of misfits." It let out a soft chuckle, a sound that sent chills through the Horde. "I must admit, I didn't an to startle your… charming group. Nor do I co with any grand intention to oppose you. But you…" It jabbed a taloned finger in Volk's direction.
Volk narrowed his eyes but said nothing, his stance steady and unyielding.
"There's sothing about your existence," the owl-being continued, its tone shifting to one of disdain. "It irritates . That face of yours. That presence. It's… how shall I put it? An offense to my senses."
The Horde shifted uneasily. The goblins exchanged nervous glances, and even the ogres glanced at each other, their usual confidence shaken. Volk stood unmoving, his gaze locked on the creature before him.
The owl-being tilted its head again, the mocking smirk growing wider. "Perhaps taking your life would be enough to rid of this irritation. A simple act of cleansing. Yes… I think that would do nicely."
It spread its wings suddenly, the motion sending a powerful gust of wind through the camp. Several goblins staggered backward, shielding their faces from the blast.
"But don't look so worried," the owl-being said with a laugh, its voice echoing through the night like the cry of a predator. "I'll give you ti to prepare. Consider this my generosity." Stay connected through My Virtual Library Empire
It flapped its wings once, lifting itself off the ground in a smooth, effortless motion. The Horde tensed, so raising their weapons instinctively, but the owl-being only hovered above them, its piercing gaze sweeping over the group one last ti.
"Oh, and one more thing," it called out, its tone dripping with mockery. "Try not to embarrass yourselves too much. It would be such a sha for all this effort to amount to nothing."
With that, the creature threw its head back and let out a mocking laugh, the sound echoing into the night as it soared higher into the sky. Its silhouette disappeared into the clouds, leaving only the faint rustle of its wings and the lingering sting of its words.
The Horde stood in stunned silence, their breaths uneven, their grips tightening on their weapons. For a mont, no one spoke. All eyes turned to Volk, waiting for his command, for his reaction. But Volk stood still, his crimson eyes fixed on the sky where the owl-being had vanished.
The camp was quiet. The tension from the owl-being's departure had settled into a tense buzz among the Horde. Though the warriors were prepared, their weapons sharp and their formations disciplined, the night itself began to shift. At first, it was subtle—so faint that it barely registered to most. The wind, which had been steadily brushing against their skin, rustling the sparse foliage, and carrying the faint slls of earth and battle, began to lose its presence.
The change was so gradual that it seed almost natural. A gust that would have once brushed past an ogre's face slowed into a re breath. The goblins, ever sensitive to their environnt, tilted their heads in confusion. One even muttered, "Strange… it's too still." But their murmurs were drowned out by the disciplined clinking of armor as they checked and rechecked their equipnt.
Volk stood at the center of the camp, his crimson eyes scanning the horizon. The eerie silence clawed at his senses. It wasn't just the absence of wind. The night itself seed to grow heavier, oppressive, and unnatural. The usual sounds of nocturnal creatures—the chirps of insects, the occasional rustle of hidden animals—faded into an eerie void. It was as if the world around them was holding its breath.
The goblins were the first to truly notice the change. They looked to one another, their large eyes darting about nervously. One tugged at the hem of another's tunic and whispered, "Do you feel that?"
"Feel what?" the second goblin replied, though his voice was barely audible.
"The air," the first one said, voice trembling. "It's… wrong."
Even the ogres, typically unconcerned with subtleties, began to shift uneasily. One of the larger ones grunted, his deep voice breaking the stillness, "Feels… empty."
Volk's gaze sharpened. His instincts, honed through countless battles and encounters, scread at him to pay attention. He closed his eyes briefly, feeling the air around him. The wind that had once danced around his skin was gone, replaced by a hollow, static stillness. Even his breath seed to hang heavier in his chest, as though the atmosphere itself was thickening.
"Leader," one of the orcs called out hesitantly, breaking through the silence. "Sothing's not right."
Volk turned, his expression grim. "I know." His voice was firm, but within, a gnawing unease took hold. He raised a hand to silence the growing murmurs of his Horde.
The goblins clustered together, their small forms trembling slightly. One of the younger ones clung to a nearby ogre's leg, seeking so semblance of safety. The ogre, for once, didn't brush the goblin off. Instead, he stared into the distance, his usual bravado replaced with a quiet apprehension.
The stillness grew more pronounced. The faintest echoes of sound—the scrape of tal, the shifting of armor—felt deafening against the eerie quiet. The air, once alive with the vibrancy of nature, felt stagnant. It pressed against their skin like an invisible weight.
A goblin dropped his spear accidentally, the clatter reverberating like thunder in the unnaturally silent night. Everyone turned to the source, their eyes wide with tension, as though the sound itself had drawn the attention of sothing unseen.
Volk's jaw tightened. He clenched his fists and took a deep breath. The realization struck him like a hamr blow. This wasn't a natural stillness. It was deliberate. It was the kind of quiet that preceded an ambush, the mont of calm before a storm.
The Horde felt it too. Their uneasy shuffling slowed to a standstill as the oppressive atmosphere settled over them. Their instincts, sharpened from years of survival and battle, scread at them to be ready. The goblins gripped their weapons tightly, their knuckles white. The orcs and ogres squared their shoulders, their eyes darting to Volk for guidance.
A low whistle from one of the orcs broke the silence. "The wind," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Where's the wind?"
Volk's crimson eyes narrowed. The realization hit him fully now. The wind wasn't just absent—it was stolen. The air had been claid by sothing. His thoughts raced. This couldn't be a coincidence. The owl-being's earlier visit, the eerie stillness… it all felt connected.
He turned to face his Horde, his voice cutting through the heavy silence like a blade. "This isn't natural," he said, his tone sharp and commanding. "Sothing is here."
The Horde braced themselves, their formations tightening instinctively. Even the goblins, who had been cowering monts ago, straightened their backs.
Volk tilted his head to the sky, his eyes scanning the dark expanse above. The clouds hung low, their edges faintly illuminated by the moonlight, but nothing moved. Not a single bird, not even the faintest shadow of a predator. The silence felt deafening now, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
Then he saw it—a faint, flickering movent far above, hidden within the swirling clouds. It was brief, almost imperceptible, but Volk's sharp eyes caught it. His heart quickened.
"Be prepared!" Volk's voice erupted, shattering the fragile stillness. It echoed through the camp, his powerful command cutting through the tension like a war drum.
So of the Horde jumped at his sudden shout, their nerves already frayed. The ogres and orcs imdiately drew their weapons, their eyes scanning the darkness. The goblins huddled closer together, their small fras shaking but their weapons ready.
"Get up!" Volk bellowed again, his voice rising to a roar. "Form ranks! This isn't a drill! I want every single one of you ready for battle!"
The Horde scrambled to obey. Weapons were drawn, armor adjusted, and formations snapped into place. The goblins scurried to the edges, their bows and daggers at the ready. The orcs and ogres ford a solid wall of muscle and steel at the front, their eyes blazing with determination.
Volk's gaze returned to the sky. The faint flicker of movent was gone, swallowed by the oppressive darkness. But he knew better than to trust the silence. Sothing was coming.
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