The mist swirled around their feet, a spectral dance that shrouded the ground in an ethereal blanket. Three armies stood at attention at the end of a meadow nestled in a mountainous region. The sun had set, surrendering the sky to the twinkling stars and the twin moons of Eros, their luminescent glow casting long shadows over the snow-peaked mountains.
The armies were a diverse coalition of races and nations. The Darlor, the Dwarven brethren of the Iron Abyss, their home nestled in the nearby mountains. Their armor was as hard as the rocks they mined, their spirits as unyielding as the metal they forged. The Danann, a religious tribe from the west, were enigmatic practitioners of magic and battle, their lineage was traced back to the gods themselves. Their eyes glowed with an inner light, their bodies radiating a power that was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. And finally, the Imperial Army of Bartex, the heart of a mighty empire situated in the middle of the known world. Their soldiers were disciplined and well-trained, their armor shining under the moonlight, their banners fluttering in the wind.
“I can smell them out there,” Trax, a stout and battle-hardened dwarf, grumbled, his eyes scanning the darkness beyond the meadow. His voice was gravelly, a testament to countless battles and smoky tavern nights. His beard was thick and matted, his eyes a piercing blue that reflected the moonlight.
“That smell, would be from you,” Macha, a member of the Danann, retorted, her voice laced with disinterest. She was a tall figure, her silver hair cascading down her back, her eyes a piercing blue that seemed to glow in the moonlight. Her robes were adorned with intricate symbols, their meanings known only to her and her tribe.
“Say’s the one that never showers,” Trax grunted, his eyes never leaving the darkness. His hand rested on the hilt of his axe, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm. His armor was dented and scratched, a testament to the many battles he had fought.
“Shut up, the both of you…. If I have to listen to another night of you arguing again,” Kane, a Bartex general, interjected, his hand gripping the pommel of his sword. His voice was a low growl, the impatience evident in his tone. He was a towering figure, his armor glinting under the moonlight, his face a hardened mask of determination. His eyes were a deep brown, filled with a wisdom that came from years of leading his men into battle.
The banter ceased, replaced by a tense silence that hung heavy in the air. The armies waited, their breaths held in anticipation. The quiet was shattered by a screech that pierced the night, a chilling announcement that they were no longer alone.
“Finally, after two day’s waiting, they are here,” Trax said, turning to his men. His voice was a low rumble, the anticipation evident in his tone. “Ready the cannons!”
Kane nodded, his gaze meeting Macha's. “I think we should get back to our armies, remember the plan!” He donned his golden helmet and walked back to his army, his figure disappearing into the sea of soldiers. His men parted for him, their faces filled with respect and admiration.
The three armies now faced an army of goblins, orcs, and chaos beings as they spilled onto the meadow, their war cries echoing through the valley, shattering the peaceful mountain serenity. Their eyes glowed with a savage hunger, their bodies twisted and grotesque. They were a horde of nightmares, their presence a blight upon the land.
“FIRE!” Trax roared, and twenty cannons unleashed their fury. The cannonballs flew through the air, their trajectory ending in the heart of the approaching army. The impact was devastating, the cannonballs taking down multiple targets, their demise confirmed by the shrieks that filled the air.
But they kept coming, seemingly unfazed by the cannonballs. The first ranks of the chaotic army clashed with the Darlor and Bartex, their shields raised in defense, halting the army's progress. The sound of metal clashing against metal filled the air, a symphony of chaos and destruction.
Suddenly, a large bang echoed through the battlefield, followed by numerous detonations. The Danann had joined the fray, hurling magic at the chaotic army. Goblins were thrown through the air, their blood spraying onto the ranks of the Darlor and Bartex as they held the shield wall. The air was filled with the smell of burning flesh and the screams of the dying.
“Alright you bastards, It’s time to work…. Move…. Forward,” a Bartex sergeant shouted. A mighty roar echoed from the Bartex frontline as they pushed their shields forward, trampling anything that waskilled or maimed. The ground beneath their feet shook with the force of their charge, their battle cries filling the night air.
The battle raged on, the field a chaotic dance of death and destruction. The chaotic army had little chance of winning this engagement, and as the goblins scattered and ran away, leaving just a handful of Orcs and several hooded creatures, it seemed the battle was finally done.
One of the hooded creatures reached into its cloak, producing a black orb with red rivets. It yelled in a foreign and chaotic language, throwing the orb at one of the Orcs nearby. The Orc lifted into the air, screaming as it was compacted bit by bit before exploding in a shower of blood and fire.
A massive roar echoed from the fire as a scaly, demonic hand pried open the edges of the fire, pulling it open further as it stuck its grotesque body through. Standing before the three armies was a chaotic greater demon, towering over 20 feet high with massive wings. Its skin was a sickly green, its eyes a fiery red. It roared, a sound that shook the very earth beneath their feet.
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The Greater Demon regarded the two armies as one would look at a buffet. “Shit, we have company,” Trax shouted, sprinting behind cover as the Greater Demon threw a boulder in his direction. Trax could be quite nimble when he needed to be. His men followed his lead, their faces filled with fear and determination.
“Trax, Macha, we should focus on that greater demon, or we won’t have any soldiers left!” Kane shouted, quickly disposing of an enemy. “Get the magicians to distract it!”
Kane darted forward, his sword at his side. His golden plate armor, legendary and currently decorated with the blood of his enemies, glinted in the moonlight. He moved quickly, approaching the Greater Demon who was currently swiping rows of Bartex soldiers.
They fought valiantly against the Greater Demon, but their efforts seemed futile against its monstrous strength. Kane reached the demon and struck instantly at its right leg, his sword biting into the flesh and unleashing a stream of fiery blood. He took another swipe at the Greater Demon but was knocked back by a powerful swing of its arm.
“Puny creature, just because you wear an ancient armor. Does not mean you are one,” the demon growled, turning its attention to Kane.
Kane stood up, his sword in hand, and charged towards the Greater Demon. He ducked beneath a sweeping arm, bringing his chest lower. With both hands gripping his sword, he thrust it into the Greater Demon's chest, piercing it deeply.
The Greater Demon roared and stood up, sending Kane flying while his sword remained lodged in its chest. Fiery blood poured from the wound and the demon's mouth as it tried to pull the sword out.
Trax suddenly appeared behind the Greater Demon and took a swipe at its right leg again, this time sending the demon to the ground with a thunderous roar. Kane ran forward again and jumped on top of the demon, gripping onto his sword as he tried to push it further in.
“Trax, I need your hammer!” Kane shouted.
“My hammer you will have,” Trax replied, running over and jumping onto the Greater Demon. He raised his warhammer above his head and brought it down onto the hilt of Kane's sword. The sword plunged deeper into the Greater Demon, causing it to twitch and spew flames and blood from its mouth. The demon tried to stand up, pushing both Kane and Trax off, but as it got to its knees, it fell forward with a final sigh.
The battlefield fell silent, the only sound the rustling of armor and the distant cries of the retreating Dark Ones. Macha walked over to Kane and Trax, her body covered in blood, her face impassive.
“That was fun,” she said dryly, her voice echoing in the sudden silence.
“Oh, very funny. While we were fighting the Greater Demon, you were popping holes in goblins and orcs,” Trax retorted sarcastically, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.
“Not like you were doing all the work,” Macha said, looking over at Kane. “Though I never knew you had an ancient's armor.”
“Neither did I,” Kane replied, retrieving his sword from the Greater Demon. The demon's body was no longer on fire from its blood and was starting to turn into stone.
“Where did you get it from?” Trax asked, his curiosity piqued.
“I got this armor from my father; it has been in the family for generations,” Kane said, his voice filled with a mix of pride and nostalgia.
“Interesting, I might look into the ancients again once I head back to Danann,” Macha mused, her eyes reflecting the twin moons.
“Have fun, I can’t wait to get back to my wife and son,” Kane said, overlooking the battlefield. “I think I might retire from this and away from the capital. I would prefer a much peaceful life.”
“I don’t think the emperor will be too pleased with that,” Trax commented, a smirk playing on his lips.
“He will be okay,” Kane said absently. “If you are heading back then and no longer fighting, can you send me your sword once you settle down? I would love to examine it and see if we are able to recreate it.”
“Also, if we could observe a piece of your armor to learn the secrets of the ancients too,” Macha added. “The helmet would be sufficient.”
“Sure, I won’t be needing it anymore,” Kane said with a laugh. “Now if you don’t mind, I wish to get back home.”
“What did you name your son, by the way?” Trax asked, standing up.
“I named him Dras,” Kane said proudly, a soft smile lighting up his face.
As the three leaders parted ways, the battlefield was left behind, a testament to their victory and the beginning of a new era. The story of General Kane and the four armies would be told for generations to come, a tale of bravery, camaraderie, and the birth of a hero named Dras. The moonlight bathed the battlefield in a soft glow, the remnants of the battle slowly fading away. The echoes of their victory would resonate through the ages, a beacon of hope in a world filled with chaos and uncertainty.
The armies began their march back home, their spirits high despite the losses they had suffered. They had fought bravely, their courage and determination shining through the darkness. They had faced an enemy unlike any they had ever seen, and they had emerged victorious. They were warriors, their hearts filled with a fire that could not be extinguished.
The journey back was filled with stories of the battle, each soldier sharing their experiences. They spoke of the Greater Demon, its monstrous form a sight they would never forget. They spoke of Kane, Trax, and Macha, their leadership and bravery inspiring them to fight with all their might. They spoke of their fallen comrades, their sacrifices not forgotten.
Back in their respective homes, the soldiers were welcomed as heroes. They were celebrated and honored, their stories told and retold. The tale of the four armies and their victory against the chaotic army became a legend, a story passed down from generation to generation.
In the years that followed, the world of Eros saw many changes. New alliances were formed, old ones strengthened. The victory against the chaotic army had brought them closer, their shared experiences forging bonds that could not be broken. The world was at peace, the threat of the chaotic army a distant memory.
But the story of General Kane and the four armies lived on. It was a tale of courage and sacrifice, of unity and strength. It was a tale that inspired many, a tale that gave hope to those who needed it. It was a tale that would never be forgotten, a tale that would forever be a part of Eros' history.