Post by 0 on Oct 3, 2017 19:08:44 GMT
It was a notoriously peaceful day for the notorious people of the notorious coastal city.
The sun shone at sky's zenith, warming the chill to the air brought in by an autumn breeze.
It spread its rays wide for the clouds were few, and even the silty coastal waters were a bright, warm copper hue.
Smoke rose in sparse, thin columns from a chimney or two, and the sound of metal on metal could be heard ringing through the cobblestone streets as an armorer worked to straighten the steel of a sword.
Pedestrians milled about, hauling in loads of fish, lifting crates, or otherwise enjoying the nice weather.
Near the town center a small crowd had gathered, cheering and jeering on as man brawled with orc, punching and wrestling each other to the ground.
Silver coins were tossed to the stones around them, while the drifting seagulls kept a close watch for any slim pickings that might happen to slip away--a finger broken off, a tooth fallen out...a body hitting the floor.
Dust drifted in across the air.
A clatter of footsteps, as of several horses, could soon be heard, echoing beside the consistent tone of the armorer's workshop.
The noise fast grew loud, drawing closer, although more than many remained focus on the fight, ears stuffed with the sounds of the crowd's calls.
Then there was a great crash, as of glass being shattered, and around half looked up to glance over, and about a quarter of those were bowled over by a mass of rampaging, stampeding bodies.
Bones and horns split into the town's center, long bodies brown, gray, and even black-and-yellow striped, thin cloths in sandy shades hanging from their necks and shoulders.
There were no less than thirty of them, many of whom came to a man's shoulders; a few were far smaller than that, but no less stubborn.
Pachycephalosaurs, they stopped for no one, shoving their way through, bashing away any who stood in their way with heads capped by hardened bone.
They knocked over the man with the beaten face, swerved around the orc with the bloody knuckles, and passed the remaining ring of onlookers.
One of them, a dark ram sporting a bright red dome atop his thorny crown, leapt out from his position, digging his stubby claws into the orc's bare chest as he reared back with his head, a harsh, rattling call spilling forth from his throat.
The sudden weight of him threw the orc off-balance, and one hard bash from the beast's skull sent him toppling over.
The ram quickly bounced away to rejoin the rest of the tribe, streamlining their way through the streets.
The sun shone at sky's zenith, warming the chill to the air brought in by an autumn breeze.
It spread its rays wide for the clouds were few, and even the silty coastal waters were a bright, warm copper hue.
Smoke rose in sparse, thin columns from a chimney or two, and the sound of metal on metal could be heard ringing through the cobblestone streets as an armorer worked to straighten the steel of a sword.
Pedestrians milled about, hauling in loads of fish, lifting crates, or otherwise enjoying the nice weather.
Near the town center a small crowd had gathered, cheering and jeering on as man brawled with orc, punching and wrestling each other to the ground.
Silver coins were tossed to the stones around them, while the drifting seagulls kept a close watch for any slim pickings that might happen to slip away--a finger broken off, a tooth fallen out...a body hitting the floor.
Dust drifted in across the air.
A clatter of footsteps, as of several horses, could soon be heard, echoing beside the consistent tone of the armorer's workshop.
The noise fast grew loud, drawing closer, although more than many remained focus on the fight, ears stuffed with the sounds of the crowd's calls.
Then there was a great crash, as of glass being shattered, and around half looked up to glance over, and about a quarter of those were bowled over by a mass of rampaging, stampeding bodies.
Bones and horns split into the town's center, long bodies brown, gray, and even black-and-yellow striped, thin cloths in sandy shades hanging from their necks and shoulders.
There were no less than thirty of them, many of whom came to a man's shoulders; a few were far smaller than that, but no less stubborn.
Pachycephalosaurs, they stopped for no one, shoving their way through, bashing away any who stood in their way with heads capped by hardened bone.
They knocked over the man with the beaten face, swerved around the orc with the bloody knuckles, and passed the remaining ring of onlookers.
One of them, a dark ram sporting a bright red dome atop his thorny crown, leapt out from his position, digging his stubby claws into the orc's bare chest as he reared back with his head, a harsh, rattling call spilling forth from his throat.
The sudden weight of him threw the orc off-balance, and one hard bash from the beast's skull sent him toppling over.
The ram quickly bounced away to rejoin the rest of the tribe, streamlining their way through the streets.
