( War log day 15 )
Falken Twilight stood at the edge of his clan's camp, his dark eyes glancing down at the winding pathway that led up to their mountaintop stronghold.
He was expecting this attack to come sooner or later, his scouts had noticed that the enemy was gathering pickaxes to climb the steep slopes of the mountain and increasing in numbers since they understood well as to what it would cost to take down the orb on-top of the mountain.
An expression of deep disgust was etched onto his rugged features as he saw the swarm of human mercenaries marching their way up. The sense of treachery hung in the air like a thick fog. These men, once part of the light faction, had turned their coats for the dark side. A mercenary, by nature, had no loyalties but the thought of their betrayal made Falken's blood boil.
