Wild Wild Faerun

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Hi all, this is one of my newer stories which I have had a discussion about, enjoy.

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Prologue
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The dust was kicked up in a violent storm, tossed around and settled back on the ground only to be thrown up once again. The noise was deafening, loud clanks resounded through the air, grunts of exertion, commands and war cries yelled, and the screams of one in their death throes. The seen was horrific, the dead lay strewn all over, as if they were sacks of grain, twisted and contorted. All around were the moans of those in their death throes, and grunts of exhaustion. A stale smell of burning corpses, feces, bile, and blood permeated through the air. The earth was stained red with blood, like a river, and covered in bodies. The desolate buildings littered this land as a grim reminder of the on going battle.

A gentle mist blew through the air, a warm mist that smelled as if something was burning. Gunpowder smoke.

Raith growled in rage, as the smoke clouded his sight, forcing him to fire blindly into through the haze, and hiding behind a water trough like a scared fool. At least that infernal gun had stopped. Unsheathing his saber, he crawled from his haven, back onto the main street.

“Once I get out of this heist…” he began, as he climbed up to his feet. Then they started again. Like rain, it came down in such amount. Swearing, he dropped himself back upon the hard earth. Edging his way over to the origins of the damned bullets, and the flashing lights. He stopped every ten seconds to check his equipment, and his surroundings.

The source of these bullets were from a horrifying contraption, mounted on a traveler’s wagon, and manned by two men. Raith crawled closer and closer, his sharp elven eyes picking up wispy shadows, no, figures, through the haze. Smiling grimly, he extended his arm, and peered over the barrel of the gun. This is going to be hard, even for ran elf. Inhaling sharply, Raith began a quiet chant, his mouth slowly going around slow, and unfamiliar words. Finishing, he squeezed the trigger. The revolver was forced backwards, right against the side of his face. Out of the corner of his eye, ecaugt a glimpse of the bullet. While they were usually black blurs, this one had a soft red glow to it. Raith snapped his eyes shut as a searing heat brushed through his body. He suppressed the urge to scream in pain, but instead, watched the flight of the bullet.

One of the gunners at the machine gun, caught the flare of the bullet, he turned the gun towards Raith, but was soon greeted with the bullet hitting him, through skin, flesh, and bone, and finally resting in his beating heart. And exploding. His chest burst open, spraying all around him in a mixture of burning blood, fat, flesh, and fire. His partner, caught it in his face, the fire burning, and charring his skin. Raith grimaced at the smell, as he crawled closer and closer. His saber jutting from his clenched fist, bobbing up and down as he crawled. The dust and smoke cleared the closer he got. He was almost there. He grimaced as he kept his eyes on the wagon wheel. A loud screech ripped through the air, and cutting through his arm. Screaming, Raith reeled back in pain, as he caught a glimpse the injured soldier, holding his injured face. One mad eye, its lids ripped or burnt away, stared down at the elf.

“Elf scum,” the soldier growled. A copper gleam, shined off his chest, as he raised his arm again shoot. Raith closed his eyes, ready to receive his death. There was a shot, two in fact, one from the soldiers gun, glanced of his leg, the bullet lying near by. The second came from the roof, piercing the soldier’s temple, into his brain.

Shocked, the elf looked up at the roof of the saloon, just to be greeted with a smiling dwarf, a smoking rifle in one hand, two bags among many locked in his large hands. Raith smiled up at him, and laid his head back, and sleep.