The Drakos-El Trap

Two clans, the Drakos-El and the Dynio clan, have hated and killed each other for centuries. They have long forgotten why they fight, but continue relentlessly. Until another Clan, one long forgotten, arises and attacks the two clans where they are the weakest: Their homes.
While they fight one another in a battle, their families die and villages burn. Can these two rival clans join together and fight this new threat? Or will they let selfish hatred be their downfall?
Only time will tell, o

It was dark. Almost too dark with the moon hidden by the planets shadow. Nights with no moon was often a problem for those that feared the dark's inhabitants, but for Mr. Wester Feloine and his warriors, the darkness was an old friend assisting them.

Wester stared into the abyss that he recognized as the moon's dark form, feeling the weight of his immense pistol attached to his belt and his large twin shields, one  connected to his forearm and the other on his back. They were always with him, but he never seemed to be able to forget about the weight they had. The smooth steel armor he wore didn't even go noticed by his body and it was nearly triple his shield's weight.

"Mr. Wester," Garland, Wester's second-in-command, said roughly. Wester looked over, examining the mans large build and identical steel armor as he walked fluidly toward Wester. It was easy to be intimidated by his clan, the Drakos-El, members, but Garland almost always made everyone wary. 

"Yes, Mr. Garland?" Wester replied, pretending not to be staring at the man's hair. Or, actually, his lack of hair. Wester was glad of his own hair. He couldn't imagine going without his long golden locks.

"The ambush and the bait has been set up," he said, smiling slightly, "Those Dynio heathens will never know what killed them." 

Wester smiled at the man. "Of course they will," he said softly, causing Garland to give off a confusing look. Wester chuckled. "They just won't have any proof."

The men both laughed briefly before heading to their stations. Wester was a high-ranking officer, so he was given an important task. All he had to do was wait for a signal, then lead the ambush. It was a simple plan really. Their clan, the Drakos-El clan, had come up with a supply train to the neighboring Fregurd clan to the north. After the Dynio clan had caught wind of it, they would probably ambush the supplies and take them, thus setting themselves up for Wester's ambush.

'Such savages will never know what hit them,' Wester thought, thanking the Great Source for this chance to strike at the Deity-less heathens. It was the Great Source that provided magic, including Wester's own magic. Why couldn't the heathens in the Dynio clan see this. If they did, Wester could probably make a pact with them.

The signal from the supply train caught Wester's eyes. He moved in, pulling his pistol from it's holster and accessing the fire magic within himself for ammunition. He did the same for his shield, with earth magic instead. He reserved his final magic, the holy magic, for later use. Wester had a feeling he would need it.

The dozens of sword and ax wielding Dynio clan members surrounding the supply trains simply confirmed this suspicion.

Wester prayed to the Great Source, then signaled his men. It was time to fight!

The End

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