All around her was stone. The ceiling was over 100 feet above her and dwarfed the small elfing. The sounds of the nearby darkspawn echoed off the stone walls, bouncing in every direction and stretching for long distances. Sylvia could never tell which direction they were coming from when they traveled deep into the heart of Ferelden.
Her back was against the cold stone, her bow in hand with an arrow ready for firing. She was breathing and calming her heartbeat down, letting some of the adrenaline bleed out of her body. Too much adrenaline made her hands shake and her arrows missed. Just around the corner was an ogre. She could smell it before she knew exactly where it was, but the dwarves around her knew the sounds well and kept them from walking into it.
They stood with their weapons ready waiting for Sylvia. She had to take care of the ogre or at least disable it. They were powerful beasts and one could easily crush Sylvia’s skull or chest cavity with its club or forearms. She felt her face run hot as her body attempted to calm, she couldn’t wait much longer.
She finally stepped away from the wall and took a deep breath. Without saying a word to the dwarves she walked towards the corner, then around it. As she rounded the corner, the ogre came into sight. It was easily eight or nine feet tall and smelled like rotting flesh. Its fur or skin, whatever it was, was a deep blue or purple and it had two big black horns. It grunted at the sight of the elf and clomped its tree-trunk legs, heading straight for Sylvia.
“Sylvia, the buck is getting away! She could hear the voice of her clan member in her head as she took aim at the ogre. Her mind was not here, several miles under the surface. She was back in the Brecilian, among the golden green and warm gold of the sun rays that shined down between the leaves and branches. Her body finally calmed and she aimed for its fleshy eye socket.
As the ogre crossed the halfway point between them she let the arrow go. The arrow flew straight and sunk deep into the ogre’s eye. It wasn’t deep enough to penetrate the brain, but it was well enough. The ogre stopped mid-stride and yowled in pain, allowing the dwarves to press in and attack it.
Sylvia lowered her bow for a moment, her cheeks flushed red, and took a breath, but she couldn’t pause for long. The ogre’s companions had heard it’ cry and came rushing. She pulled another arrow out of her quiver and aimed for the biggest Hurlock.
cannon or not: Definitely cannon.