I have written anything before. I'm not really into that sort of thing but I didn't have anything better to do in French so here we go.


'For Great Justice' he yelled as he sliced at yet another assailant. The dwarf crumpled to the ground as he swung at a new target, however this time he was too slow. He felt a searing pain as the blade entered his stomach and he fell to his knees.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw his friend Petre mutter a quick prayer to Dwayna and he felt the pain ease and strength return to his body.
'Thanks' he yelled before slashing at his would be killer.
He'd known Petre since they were children, growing up in a quiet fishing village on the coast of Orr. During the Cataclysm they'd been out fishing when suddenly a tidal wave caused by the sinking of the nation swept them up. They'd been carried along by the wave until they crashed upon the shores of Kryta. In an attempt to gain favor with the Krytans they joined the White Mantle and it soon emerged that these two fishermen were highly adept as a monk and a warrior.
'Behind you Al!' warned Petre. Al turned to see yet another of the Stone Summit dwarves charging at him swinging a a vicious looking axe. He dropped to one knee and raised his sword. The dwarf, seeing this tried to stop but his momentum carried him forward and he impaled himself upon the out-thrust blade.
'I think that's the last of them' stated Petre looking calmly around at the carnage caused by the skirmish before walking over to his friend, 'let's get out of here before any more turn up.'


Like I said, it's nothing special. Feel free to comment and if you like it I've got a chapter 2 in the works.