The Widow's Wail

By Vrog

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Before she spoke, you could hear cheers and laughter from far and near. Dwarves of Humblebrag brought drink a plenty and wares to trade and stories to share. Coin was traded as locals bet and bought. Duels were set up for all to see fighter after fighter fought. And some cheered as they filled their coin pouch from the winnings they got.

 

Within the trove the scaled members gathered, settling in for a side of steak and rest from the festivity when they witnessed an eerie sight. The forest had fallen still, and the sky did glow orange.

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Without warning, the wind picked up and began to howl. Cracking, creaking, and crashing could be heard as the forest around them whipped back and forth. Trees the size of a dragon's leg exploded from twisting and turning. Dirt flew. Wind billowed. Trees fell. And the towns folk ran. Seeking safety from the storm, they ran to a clearing only to see lightning hit the ground and fires ablaze.

 

It had passed just as quickly as it had come, and silence fell across the land once again.

 

The little town, now covered in rubble, took stock of all this trouble. Time seemed to have slowed when she let out her wail. Devastation miles around could be found. The ice elves of the lands, beaten back, seem to have had some cover from this attack. Their forts and towns now encased in ice. Seems the mistress of pain wouldn't let them suffer this night.

 

Within the scaled trove not a single tree had been touched. The Widow's Wail had ripped through. But there, among the trees, stood her effigy radiating with a chill as if protecting those who would follow the firstborn.