Ficly

An Attempt At Fantasy, Part 1

Dark specks briefly revealed themselves amongst the clouds: Dragons, mopping up troops on the salt flat below, bursts of flame blossoming from the skies.

The overseer was considering whether he should feel proud of his tactical accomplishments when a blinding fireball crashed into the salt bank fifty feet away. He regained his balance and looked to the site.

As the hot salt clouds settled, a man of extraordinary height was revealed, clad in armour of white and gold, ornate but obviously practical.

The overseer was not one to be cowed by mysterious arrivals. His right hand gripped the sword at his belt.

“State your purpose.”

The apparition strode towards him, the voice tinny from within the helmet.

“You must end this war.”

“Who are you to be issuing orders?”

“I am the Arbiter.”

The overseer’s breath caught briefly, and as he looked the Arbiter over for a moment. He noticed, then, the platinum sword, larger than the Arbiter himself, strapped to his back at a slant.

View this story's 4 comments.