The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a somber hue over the village of Brookhaven as Savi and Keyon stumbled through the gates, Emeric draped over his shoulders like a wet rag, his bedraggled form hardly recognizable now. The usually peaceful village was now a cauldron of activity, with townsfolk rushing to and fro, armor glinting in the fading light. A long, ragged banner, bearing the sigil of Lady Elara, rippled in the breeze atop the watchtower. The village square was alive with the clamor of preparations; smiths hammered away at their anvils, shaping crude weapons for the villagers, while clerics moved among them, imbuing them with the barest semblance of magic. Archers nocked arrows and drew their bows, loosing shafts at distant targets in a steady rhythm, while others practiced their melee form nearby. Children and the elderly, seeking safety in numbers, huddled together in the shadows of buildings, wide-eyed with terror hidden behind masks of bravery. “I suppose our warning landed on receptive ears, Keyon,” Savi says, grinning as she looks up at the hulking woodsman. Nodding grimly, Keyon gestures to the watchtower, where Lady Elara stood atop a raised platform, her regal presence commanding the attention of the gathered throng. “Your kind noble,” he replies, his voice betraying no hint of his true feelings towards this.
“People of Brookhaven,” Lady Elara calls, her voice strong and clear. “we face dark times. Our very way of life is under threat from the marauding hordes massing upon our eastern border. The goblins and their ilk care not for the lives they trample, nor the blood they spill in their wake. They seek only to consume and destroy.”
The crowd murmurs in agreement, a rumble of fear and fury swelling through them. Cries of “no gob’ln runnin’ me outta my home,” and “generations making this land… weren’t no intent to give it all up just for some ragged greenskins,” fly from the crowd, met with cheers of affirmation. Emeric stirred in his unconscious state, as if he too could feel the determination of the crowd around them.
“But we are not alone,” Lady Elara continued, her voice rising above the din. “We have hope. We have each other, and we have the might of our queen’s army marching to our aid as we speak. We will not cower in the face of this evil. No, we will stand and we will fight!”
A roar of defiance erupted from the crowd, as one they drew their newly-forged weapons or raised their fists in a show of determination. Emeric’s eyelids flickered once more, as if he felt the surge of hope coursing through the village.
“Captains, form up your companies,” Lady Elara continued, her tone shifting to one of cold efficiency. “We have fought and won against greater odds than this. We will not falter now, Stel will not fall on our soil!”
The gathered forces cheered as one, dispersing to their various posts. Keyon and Savi, holding the injured Emeric with them, approached the platform where Lady Elara stood, the weight of the world, it seemed, resting on their shoulders. Lady Elara’s eyes widened as she spotted their bruised forms, and the unconscious mage in Keyon’s arms. “By the gods,” she gasped, “were you the band investigating the goblins? I thought you numbered greater, surely three lone travelers couldn’t stand to the might of a goblin horde alone?” Savi, jaw set in grim determination, met the older woman’s gaze. “Yes, my lady, it was our letter to warn you of the coming horde. The three of us held against roving bands of goblins, evading beasts long forgotten to the sun’s embrace, surviving, but only just. The mage’s reserves are depleted, he lingers in unconsciousness, and I fear for his life if he does not receive rest and care.” Ladt Elara nodded grimly. “Very well. Carry him to the infirmary, and see to it that he is attended to at once. The fate of Stel may well rest on your shoulders, and the information you bear.
As Keyon and Savi took their injured friend away, the sounds of preparations for war swirled around them. In the distance, the dark clouds loomed every nearer, blotting out the starlight, but the people of Stel would not go down without a fight. They would not be cowed by the encroaching darkness.
- - -
In the cool dimness of the temple infirmary, Savi worked tirelessly to nurse Emeric back to health. Brought back to the night Keyon was carried into the temple, torn nearly into pieces, she cannot help but feel an ominous sense of a grim cycle forming. Shaking aside her fears, she wove tendrils of soothing golden light, gently restoring his strength, mending his exhausted mind. Still, through the hours of careful work, the haunted appearance of his gaunt form remained, his eyes still swallowed by the blackness usually swirling in small cyclones. “Rest, Emeric,” she whispered, “it’s over for now. You’ve done all you can.”
Emeric’s ragged breathing slowed, and he finally slipped into a healing sleep. When he awoke, it was to the smell of incense and herbs. The pain in his body had subsided, but the images he had seen in the goblin’s mind, they still haunted him. “I… I saw…” Emeric croaked, his parched throat feeling as dry as the Teranian plains. Savi was at his side in an instant, pressing a cup of cool water into his trembling hand. “Shh, Emeric, you’re safe now. Whatever you saw, it’s in the past-”
Downing the water in one long torrent, the cool liquid doing little to quench the inferno raging in his mind, Emeric cried out, “no, you don’t understand! It started decades ago, Grimnok, he was observing us, learning our weaknesses. He’s been biding his time, growing stronger.” Pushing himself up, his eyes were flecked with panic. “The slaughter of settlements, mindless ambushes on trade routes, it was all part of his plan! To lure us into a false sense of security, to believe we had conquered any danger the goblins presented, and all the while he’s been forging a goblin horde unlike anything we’ve ever seen!”
The weight of the revelation pressed down on Emeric’s shoulders like an unbearable burden. “Savi, we’ve underestimated him, all of us. He’s not just another cunning goblin. He’s a strategist, a… a general. And he’s coming for Stel.” Savi’s face blanched, but her voice was as strong as ever. “Then we’ll be ready for him. We’ve faced darkness before, an we’ve always emerged victorious. Together, we will rally the people of Brookhaven, and we’ll send these monsters back to the hells they crawled out of.” Emeric’s face hardened once more. “Savi… these plans were drawn before any influence of dark magic influenced the goblins. When my mind began to see figures unlike any goblin I have ever known… I couldn’t make sense of anything I saw then. Their capabilities could be leagues beyond what even I had seen. We cannot afford to underestimate them.”
“Then fight we must. Whether they are weaker or stronger, we have no choice but to fight,” Savi responds. Emeric manages a small smile, nodding weakly. For in the back of Emeric’s mind, the images of the goblin war camps, the primal banners of Grimnok billowing in the breeze, and the growing dark chants of the goblin shamans invoking foreign deities… these images haunted him, but none more so than the group of shadowed, fleeting figures seemingly pulling the strings of the goblin camps. Emeric could not shake the feeling that those figures were the true enemy, and they would always elude his sight. The forest outside the window rattled with a sudden gust of wind, as if in ominous agreement. The shadows were stirring, and Stel was in their sights.
- - -
Emeric stood at the enormous arched window of the great hall inside Brookhaven keep, his thoughts a whirlwind of strategies and counter-strategies. Lady Elara was discussing troop movements with her captains, her voice crisp and clear in the grand chamber despite the gloom that threatened to descend upon them all. The room, usually bright and airy, now seemed shrouded in a pall of dread as news of Grimnok’s horde spread like wildfire through the castle. Emeric’s dire warnings fell on Lady Elara’s ears with the weight of the coming destruction apparent to all.
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Emeric felt a presence behind him before he heard the footsteps. He didn’t turn, but his hand pulled his cloak to his side. “Captain Aldric, is that you?”
“Aye, it’s me, caster,” a familiar gruff voice responded. “Heard you’ve been seeing things in the forest.” Emeric kept his back turned, gazing at the endless expanse of rolling hills beyond the window. A grin cracks the stoic firmness of his complexion. “Heard you still prefer frontal assaults to more… subtle approaches.” Aldric chuckled, but there was no mirth in the sound. “Times are changing, Emeric. Even if I had the desire, we don’t have the luxury of subtlety anymore. You and I, we’ve got history, but we can’t afford to let our differences stand in our way now.” Emeric’s hand tightens on his cloak, relaxed, and tightened again, firm along the worn hem of his cloak, the same one draped over Aldric’s plated shoulders, albeit more worn. “I know, Aldric. I’ve seen… things. Terrible things. More than you or I can comprehend".”
A tense silence hung between them, as thick as the air before a storm. Emeric turned to face the grizzled soldier, face to face with his old comrade for the first time in years. “What do you know about the vestiges of Zartek’s influence?” Aldric’s eyes narrowed, and he took an unsteady step backwards. “Heard whispers, ghost stories told to children, nothing more. I thought them just that - whispers, stories, nothing beyond that.”
“I wish it were so,” Emeric muttered, rubbing his temples wearily. “But we don’t have time for denials. Grimnok is but a symptom of a greater disease one that’s been festering in Stel’s heart for decades.” Emeric paused, freezing as if to realize the implication of his words. “No,” he continues, “not just Stel. The whole of Heren. This very world is being consumed by rot, and it will soon release its fetid cloud over the whole of the land, swallowing us all.” Aldric’s expression darkened. “You’ve got my attention, old friend. But first, we need to rally our forces and prepare for the onslaught. Only the vanguard of the Royal Army has arrived, and we cannot afford to be divided when the goblin horde arrives.”
“Agreed,” Emeric said, extending his hand. “For Stel.” Aldric hesitated for a moment before clasping the offered hand in a firm grip. “For Stel,” he echoed. “I’ll continue preparing the men. We cannot afford to delay.”
“Agreed. We don’t have the luxury of time,” Emeric nods, stepping away from the window. “The goblins are likely already marching. We must make it to the fields bordering the forest before they reach our lands.” His eyes harden as he looks back over his shoulder at Aldric, “we’ll meet them where they’ll least expect.”
“Emeric, that’s suicide!” Aldric interjects, shaking his head in disapproval. “Perhaps,” Emeric said, a cold determination in his eyes. “But it’s our only chance to stop them before they reach the city. Gather your men, Drill them while you can. We march in two days’ time.
- - -
In the camp, Savi moved among the soldiers, tending to their aching limbs and soothing their fears. She new that many of them would not see the morrow, and she was determined to bring them as much peace as she could. The divinity coursed through her, a wellspring of comfort in the face of the encroaching darkness. “Be strong, my friend,” she calls to one young recruit, his face pale with fear. “The gods are with us, and we will not falter.” The boy looked up at her, and for a moment, he saw not a simple cleric, but a reflection of the gods she served. His trembling hand reached out, and she clasped it gently, imbuing him with a fraction of her strength. Continuing her round through camp, she saw the other clerics of her temple doing their best to weave comfort for the soldiers, and seeing their struggle to refine their warmth, Savi realizes the growth she has gone through in the past weeks. Her connection with the light, while tested and nearly extinguished by the darkness of Zartek, has surged forth stronger than before, her hands now instinctively casting an aura of warmth around her for the soldiers she passes by.
As the dusk approached, the army of Stel gathered their meager forces and steeled themselves for the battle to come. In the distance, the clouds parted, revealing a sliver of the blood moon, its glow staining the land a sickly crimson. “Surely, this is their omen,” Emeric said, his voice like gravel as he draws alongside Savi. “We must ready ourselves, it won’t be long before they arrive.”
Their armor glinting in the baleful moonlight, the soldiers of Stel mounted their steeds or fell into formation, ready to march into the jaws of certain doom. In their hearts, they carried a flicker of hope, a desperate prayer that they would be enough to stem the tide of chaos and restore peace to their fractured realm. Falling in with the other casters, Emeric feels a sense of bittersweet familiarity. Where he spent so many years of his life, behind the rows of pikes, the readied bows of the archers’ lines behind him, he readied his arcane energies, bolstering the resolve of his fellow mages. The fields before the army seemed to grow with each passing moment, the forest edge shrinking farther and farther away, but they held strong, united in their cause, unwavering in teir determination to protect their homeland from this nearing suffocating darkness.
As the beating of their hearts, the shuffling of their feet was swallowed by the night, the armies of Stel stood firm against the future. A growing rumble forms in the forest, the shouted war cries of the goblin horde growing every nearer. It took every fiber of every soldier’s being to hold the line, to spit in the face of battle and scream, “Not today, darkness. Today, Stel will endure.” The calls of Stel’s endurance ripple through the ranks, and before long, the roar of the soldiers rivaled even the cacophony of goblin roars in the forest.
- - -
In the waning blood-red moonlight, Keyon surged through the forest, flowing through vines, undergrowth, and around trees faster than should be possible. As the army held strong in the fields, Keyon pulled vines taught in the goblin horde’s path, drawing the thorns and bristles of the forest in their path, hindering their advance. His path unhindered by any obstruction, he skirted the edges of the oncoming horde, their torches casing an eerie glow on his hardened and cracked skin, bearing the appearance of a wizened tree, its bark drawing together, the pits between extrusions falling deeper and deeper. Goblin cries at his appearance came too late, as their flank turned to strike him down, his movements already brought him to their rear, a spectral form of nature’s vengeance for the creature’s poisoning of the lands they inhabit. His movements only increased in precision and speed as the horde drew near to the edge of the forest, striking and repositioning with a lethal ferocity.
- - -
Emeric kneeled in the moonlight, the shadows cast by the approaching horde’s torches dancing across his haggard face as he traced crude lines in the earth. His magic, ever evolving, needed new sigils to control his growing power. The grizzled mage’s deep voice rumbled like distant thunder. “Casters, push your limits. Learn to channel the arcane through you, not just around you. Their numbers are… formidable.” Emeric swallowed, remembering the surge of panic as he recalled the horde’s numbers. They’ll strike soon, but that doesn’t mean we can’t ready our strike now. Use the terrain to your advantage. The trees will obscure their vision until they break through the edge of the forest’s bounds. Begin gathering your energies, flowing up above you, ready to strike from above.” The other caster’s eyes met his, and Emeric saw their determination, tempered by a flicker of fear. Nevertheless, they would work to improve their magic, just as he had for years. He can’t help but feel a spark of hope, perhaps the mistrust he held for the Royal Army after seeing so many traitors revealed no longer held the same edge to his mind…
Savi approached him, her hand resting on his shoulder. “Keyon’s been training the men. They’re green, but eager. We’ll make the goblin bastards bleed for every inch of our soil.” The quizzical looks of the casters were not lost on Savi, and with a smirk, she turns towards the forest, weaving her light tighter and tighter in the air until there appeared a physical canopy drawn from the sun itself above the caster lines. Emeric nods to her, silently thanking her for her resolve in the face of overwhelming odds. The lengthening shadows cast by the rising sun struck a chord of unease into the air.
Dawn would come all too soon. As the morning light crept over the horizon, its vibrant hues were at odds with the somber mood. Stifled sobs and muted whispers filled the ranks as the tension broke over the ranks, readying themselves for the onslaught. Their officers walked among their ranks, offering reassurance, a small beacon in the growing darkness.
“Funny, isn’t it,” Emeric begins, turning to Savi. “That even with so much sunlight cresting the world, there can be such a curtain of darkness in the back of my mind.” Savi’s emerald eyes shone with resolve as she clasped her hands together. “We’ll get through this. Together.” The goblin horde began to break the tree line ahead of their ranks, their cries like the shriek of a banshee. Emeric’s heart pounded in his chest, but he didn’t flinch.
“Here they come,” Captain Aldric bellowed, and the ranks erupted into action.