LV
One hundred elven soldiers climbed onto the roof and surrounded Fenroot. The spires of the Hall of Governance glinted like needles in the rain.
“Traitor,” Dark growled.
“Do you like the poison?” Fenroot asked. “Sending in a scout was the most effective way to warm you up.”
The silver dragon spread his wings and his elves prepared for battle, their hands glowing.
“You can’t muster up the strength to fight me without your minions, can you?” Dark asked.
He grimaced. The poison flowed through him, burned through his veins. How could he have been so stupid to fall for such a trick again?
“Poison won’t stop me,” Dark said.
“No, I will,” Fenroot said.
“All of this is a pity,” Dark said. “To think you would have to amass an army to defeat a decrepit old dragon like me….”
Fenroot growl
