Day 12 of the Moaning Wind Cycle. Year of the Falling Phoenix.
Outskirts of the Elven Plains, First Division Army Encampment.

It’s been a year since the elves chose to sever all ties with our grand Empire, breaking the treaty that was signed by our forefathers centuries ago. Not only did they do this without a valid reason, they announced it during the celebration of the Golden Harvest, the second most important event that we humans celebrated with them. You should have imagined the chaos that ensued. Damn them and their arrogance.

To make matters worse, the diplomatic envoys that we have sent in the past months have been turned away, the last one returned with his head on a platter! All trade routes have since been blocked off due to reports of Elves attacking any who stray too near the Elven cities. What ARE they thinking? Due to this, the consulate has decreed that we use subdue them with physical force. As much as it pains me to see bloodshed between the two races, I, General Gerald Stormhammer of the First Division, shall uphold my duty to the Empire and lead this battalion to besiege the Elvish Capital.

The second and third divisions have been directed to the flanks while the fourth has gone ahead to skirmish with the defenders. May the plains run red with the blood of our foes. We now await the chance to advance. It’s been a day since we received reports of the fourth encountering the enemy. It won’t be long before we can atta-


“Sir! We have received word that the elven defenders have begun retreating!”

Gerald paused, lifted his quill from the blue velvet bounded journal and looked up at his first lieutenant. “It could be a trap. What about the second and third divisions?”

“Their scouts have reported no elven war-bands in the vicinity. It looks like a clear path to the capital walls,” reported the lieutenant.

“Is that so?” queried Gerald, scratching his stubbly beard, “The siege would prove to be the hardest part though. I’ve seen the capital before and its defences are almost impregnable.”

After a moment’s pause, Gerald nodded. “Alright, we move out in an hour’s time. Send out the commands to the respective teams to prepare the siege engines.”

“I’m on it sir,” said the lieutenant, saluting sharply. Turning on his heel, he marched out of the General’s tent.

As the lieutenant left, Gerald leaned back in his chair and scratched out the last line in his journal before continuing.


The time has arrived, we move out in an hour. May the Blessed Goddess of the Heavens smile down upon us.


~<¤>~


“I hope you are ready,” said a tall, graceful elf to a scribe who sat on a chair behind him.

The one who had spoken was Luinhiril Truenroth, senior Archmage and member of the Elven Council. He had been pacing about in his room, grand and well-furnished just like the rest of the rooms in the Mage’s Tower. Unlike the other rooms however, his room was devoid of the smell of old tomes as he had no use for them, having memorised the most arcane spells known to the elves. Clearing his throat, the wizened elf began dictating for the scribe in the ancient tongue of their kind.


“Foolish humans. Do they not realise their greed and hunger repulsed us, leading to our withdrawal from the alliance? Alas for the truth, that is not the only reason. I, Luinhiril Truenroth, have decided to keep record of this, in the event of our unlikely downfall, the truth may be revealed. Our high prince; blessed be by Selune, Goddess of the Moon, has departed from the land of living, leaving the throne empty.

If our dark elven brethren caught wind of this sorrowful news, we would surely be under attack. Our grand capital definitely shall not fall to their wicked scimitars, but we must take precaution. This was why we didn’t reveal this truth to the humans, rumour mongers as they all are. However, now we are under attack by the humans themselves. I do not understand what they mean to accomplish, first they send envoys in the pretext of diplomacy, but our guards have caught them drawing weapons when we refused to meet their terms. Next they hire bandits to attack the trade routes, and then blame it on our people. Now this, a full force attack on the capital!

We would have no choice but to utterly annihilate their forces for this is the greatest insult to us. They stand no chance against our defen-”


His words were interrupted by the sound of trumpets calling and the tolling of large bronze bells. Luinhiril cursed as he looked out the window, “They managed to reach our walls? No matter, this shall be dealt with quickly.”

Storming out of his room, his cabalistic robes flowing behind him, the Archmage made his way to the outer walls, prepared to assist in the ensuing battle.


~<¤>~


“Fall back!”

Countless cries of pain and terror resonated across the plains as the human forces were bombarded by deadly arrows from elvish longbows and ballistae. Their advance had come to a halt and the men began regrouping, out of the enemy’s range. “At this rate we won’t be able to set up our siege engines,” cursed the General, his tabard coated with the blood of his troops. Unlike other leaders, he had led the charge and helped carry the wounded during the retreat.

“We would need to create a diversion,” he mused, “We cannot allow this siege to be a war of attrition.”

He was right, for it would take years before the well-stocked capital would run out of food, and constant movement of supplies for the army would make a huge dent in the Empire’s economy. Summoning his fellow staff, they began discussing the plans. The engineers required the engines to be drawn considerably close to the walls, before taking a full hour to set up. On top of that, they would need constant shielding from attacks.

“What about our magic division?” Gerald asked.

The head war-mage spoke up, his face hidden by the cowl of his robes. “Our spells are being dispelled by their wizards. It seems that they have set up a powerful barrier against offensive magic.”

“I would suggest we send in formations of turtle-phalanxes,” said the General of the Third, referring to the defensive formation of overlapping shields above their heads.

Shaking his head, Gerald countered the plan. “Their longbow’s penetrative power is far too strong. Not to mention a single bolt from a ballista could send our men scattering.”

“Shall I send a runner requesting more back-up?” asked a lieutenant.

“I think we have no choice,” admitted Gerald, disappointed at the outcome.

Just as the general finished speaking, the head war-mage coughed to get their attention. “Gentlemen, I offer a suggestion.”

The assembled staff collectively turned to face the mysterious one, eagerly awaiting good news.

“My associates have been researching several ancient tomes as of late, and we have rediscovered several old incantations. Though it has been untested, there is a summoning spell that can request the aid of a lesser being from the Nether planes, one that possesses incredible strength yet can be controlled by us.”

“The Nether planes?” questioned Gerald, “Isn’t that dark magic you are referring to?”

“Not dark like foul necromancy, but perhaps a little…demonic,” admitted the mage.

Immediately the gathered leaders protested, for demons were anathema to the teachings of the Heavens. Their dissent was quickly interrupted as the mage continued.

“However, it is merely a distraction for us. The elves would surely focus their firepower on it, giving us time to prepare for the siege. And if we succeed in reaching the walls before the fiend has fallen, we mages can easily cancel the summoning, banishing it from whence it came.”

Gerald thought about it for several minutes. While it is a sin to summon such a thing, the capital need not know of it. And if the elves manage to slay it, well, that’s one less demon in the world.

“Alright, we shall attempt this,” he declared firmly, a stare of steely resolve in his eyes.


~<¤>~


An hour later upon the Elven ramparts, Archmage Truenroth stared out at the crimson plains, to the army amassed there. His grey eyes were tinged with bereavement, for he knew that the humans would not give up so easily. As he was about to assist in strengthening the magical barrier, he sensed an energy shift in the air. Frowning, he stared at the group of humans standing in a circle in front of the enemy encampment. What’s this? A summoning?

A derisive laugh was at the verge of his lips when his eyes widened in terror. Fools! You must be insane to attempt that spell! Luinhiril could detect the particular magic that they were attempting and gritted his teeth. No mortal can cast such a hazardous spell without dire consequences!

Alas, he was all too powerless to stop them and could only watch from a distance.

A whirl of crackling energy enveloped the mages as they invoked the spell and the pentagram drawn beneath their feet began emitting a purple glow. As the last words were spoken, the mages collectively turned to face the elven capital, stretching their hands skywards. Luinhiril shook his head and waited for the result with bated breath.

Mystically, the spilt blood upon the plains began to seep towards a single spot, before it evaporated into thin air. A moment later, in that very spot, the air was split asunder. Darker than night and reeking of chaos, an obsidian crack began to emerge. First it was merely a splinter of darkness and then suddenly a monstrous claw emerged, enlarging the fissure. The elven Archmage was shocked. How did they actually summon it? Immediately, he ordered the bowmen to shoot at the spot before it was too late.

As the arrows flew towards their target, the crack widened and revealed a massive demon. It was taller than the elven walls, with pulsating red eyes and vicious claws. As it was hit by the arrows, the demon let out an earth-shaking roar, the sound coming from its very being as it appeared to have no mouth. Its lower appendages kept on changing shape, from a pair of muscular legs to a cloud of gaseous substance, to enormous tentacles the next instant. Like the plane it came from, it was completely jet black, with the exception of its eyes.

Gerald and the rest of the humans were stunned at the appearance of this monstrosity and some even began praying fervently. He was about to utter a blasphemous curse, knowing that this could not be an easily controlled demon, but the war-mages who had performed the summoning had already begun to scream.

Their cowls were thrown back and where their faces should be, was a wisp of black smoke. It was as though their fibres of existence were being decomposed. An instant later, the smoke was absorbed by the demon. He knew that the spell had failed, and at the cost of their lives, had invoked a far greater demon.

“Sir, what are your orders?” asked the lieutenant, struggling to keep calm.

Staring at the demon that had begun advancing towards the elves, whose arrows seemed to have no apparent effect, Gerald closed his eyes in deep regret.

“We advance.”


~<¤>~


As the demon drew closer, the Elves switched from unaltered arrows to ones that were enchanted by the mages as they hurtled towards their target. It was apparent that mere physical attacks were almost useless and Luinhiril breathed a sigh of relief as the magical attacks seemed to at least slow it down. Yet it never seemed to stop, and soon reached the walls. With a thunderous roar, the demon swung back its arm and drew it down in an arc. Its mighty fist crushed those unfortunate enough to be below the attack. Not even the brick walls were spared the potent impact.

“Stand your ground! We can defeat it!” rallied Luinhiril, his voice reaching the heavens. He summoned up an orb of shimmering energy and with the flick of his palm, sent it hurtling between the demon’s eyes. His aim was true and the demon flung its head back in pain, letting out yet another howl. In retaliation, it swung its claws at the elven defenders, killing several in a single swipe. Luinhiril spat out a curse as he drew back, to prepare more offensive spells.

Below the elven fortifications, the humans drew closer with their siege engines. Gerald kept a distance from the machinations however, having a strong dislike for technology. Still regretting the course of actions, he watched absently as the demon wrecked havoc upon the elves. The general was shaken out of his stupor by the crash of shattered wood and metal ringing through the air. It was followed by shrieks of pain and the final wails of the dying. The demon had attacked his men!

It appeared that one of the siege engines had brushed against the demon’s ever shifting lower half and caused the monstrosity to turn its attention to the humans gathering below. An enormous foot stamped down upon a whole team of engineers and sappers, the earth trembling beneath it.

“Move away from the demon!” shouted the general in charge of that division, only to watch as his men were helplessly trampled.

Above, Luinhiril cast a fireball at the demon, before hearing the shouts below. This is what happens when you tangle with demons. Half of the elven defenders had been slain, though reinforcements from the other walls began streaming in. Yet, it would not be enough. Taking in a deep breath, the elven Archmage began chanting the invocations for his next spell.

“Humans, cease your futile attempts at storming our citadel and look at the terrible sin you have committed. While it may be the key to our downfall, it would turn against you and your victory shall be meaningless,” boomed out the voice of Archmage Truenroth, his voice enhanced by a simple vocal augmentation spell, “Do you not see what looms above you? Yes, it is death himself, and he has come to devour you with his unfathomable appetite.”

The humans below listened attentively to the elf’s words as they attempted to escape from the demon’s wrath. A sentiment of fear ran through their veins as he spoke and they turned to their generals for orders.

“Set aside our differences for this day,” continued Luinhiril.

“For we are both born of this world, despite our differences. That foul creature,” he paused for effect, “Is not.”

“Let us unite against this common enemy! Together, we can drive it back. Are you with me?” he concluded, his words reaching the heavens.

Stirred by the words, the humans roared their battle cry in agreement. Drawing his sword, Gerald smiled to himself. He once met the Archmage during his visit to the Capital and was humbled by the amount of respect the elf commanded from people, be they human or elf. Moving to the front of his men, he shouted at the top of his lungs.

“By the mercy of the Goddess above, the demon shall be vanquished!”


~<¤>~


The sun was setting, its crimson rays bowing out in farewell. In its place, a faint moon had appeared in the evening sky, the silver streaks of light mixing with the red. It had been an hour since the humans and elves had united against the demon. Countless corpses lay strewn about, mixed with debris from the wrecked walls. The demon however, was not to be seen, having retreated mere minutes ago. There was no cheer from either side however, for the humans were completely decimated and only a handful of survivors remained on the elven side. One could have wondered whether the demon was actually driven off, or whether it was merely bored of the carnage.

As Luinhiril took slow steps around the field, surveying the bodies of the dead, he stumbled across the corpse of the First Division General. Profusely covered in wounds, there was a calmness in his visage as though he died protecting his beliefs. Kneeling down, the Archmage recalled the time when the two had met. At that time Gerald was merely a lieutenant, but from his words, Luinhiril knew he would achieve a high rank someday. But what for? To die by the hands of an uncaring beast?

Shaking his head to dispel the thoughts, he reassured himself that Gerald was a defender of the peace between the two races, but at the same time was devoted to the Empire’s commands.

“Rest well,” he whispered, folding Gerald’s arms across his chest, the sword still in his comrade’s dead hands.

Straightening, the Archmage looked up at the moon, offering thanks to Selune for letting him live through this battle. Turning to head back to the Capital with the survivors, he was stopped in his tracks. In the distance, the sound of beating drums resonated throughout the still air.

It cannot be!  His eyes widened in fear as he scanned the horizons, where figures of armoured warriors upon reptilian mounts began to appear. Dark Elves!

With his remaining mana and strength, Luinhiril prepared himself, bowing his head to the ground, his eyes shut.

We are doomed.


The End