King Terran's limp body fell to the ground, and Azaron snickered. The Scorpian horde vanished with a giant volcanoe of smoke. Azaron had magically taken them and himself away from the masscre.
Just as the horde departed, Graynar and Boldan came whipping into view. Graynar flew to the King's side, but let out a cry of despair. Boldan searched the lifeless bodies of the army, for a survivor.
"Graynar look! Hurokol is still alive!" gasped Boldan, pulling Graynar towards his mentor.
"Wake up old man, come on!"
"Old man!?" cried Hurokol, "this is not the time for jokes young lad."
"But I wasn't jesting sir." said Graynar helping Hurokol up onto his feet.
"Of course not. Come boys, there is no time to mourn the King and his men. We must warn the Capital and the Dwarves of Fayner."
The three men took off along the road, things were not looking good.