Wet rock grinds below Braz’s hooves.
The sodden locks fell into his eyes, he adjusted his armour and felt a warmth as the saturated padding moved to another part of his torso.
Looking around, Braz was bewildered. Since meeting in the Sour Vintage those surrounding Braz, his fellow heroes, had seemed friendly, just, brave and wise.
Nothing had happened to dissuaded Braz of this notion, but as the splash of rain bounced off the rock further and further up his leg he was starting to reconsider the “wise”.
His time with the city militia had been fruitful and he hoped he had helped with the long term protection of the town, but whilst he was away his fellow “Heroes of the Heartlands” or “Oracle's Chosen” or those he was bound to by oath had chosen the option of “get sacrificed”.
The wind swirled and the temperature palpably dropped as the booming voice came through the clouds, marking the challenge that had been set by Sydon himself.
The basilisks, as they had been seen from the other bank just nights before, came slithering and crawling up towards the stone, however it was the flap of wings and the familiar screech of the harpies circling high above that caught Braz’s eye. The commotion of battle was fierce, with the splintering of metal and incarnation of spells barely audible above the swirling winds, but for Braz there was a familiar calmness to his ongoing enmity. Beams of radiant force and hurled spears allowed Braz, alongside Theo, to take down one of the foul creatures whilst the others looked on. On turning it as evident the rest of the party had effectively dealt with the basilisk threat almost unscathed, and as the harpies flew away to report the defeat to Lutheria the crowd on the bank began to cheer.
The night was long as the party sat upon the rock until the dawn, however it was made warmer by the flow of the wine that was bought by onlookers, taken from the upcoming wine festival.
Braz sat on the rock, looking at the flickering lights of the town above and mused how the actions of the party had been a new dawn for the city. As he began to repeat an incantation to Mytros he realised that he was distracted by the beauty of the city and for just half a second forgot the words to the long remembered incantation.