The sun was a crimson blemish on the eastern horizon, rising above the tree line and bathing the battlefield in a bloody hue as the forces of Stel charged forward. Emeric and his fellow casters craned their necks, the younger ones’ eyes wide with a mix of awe and terror, as the unearthly shrieks of their enemy pierced the air like a thousand arrows. Goblin warbands streamed out from behind moss-covered boulders, their crude iron weapons glistening in the fading light. Emeric, a battle-hardened veteran had seen his fair share of carnage. The stench of blood, the cries of the dying, they were his old companions by now. Long ago, he had steeled himself against the horrors of war. This was the price they all paid for the safety of their home. Recognizing the apex of the charge of the enemy, Emeric straightened himself, flicking enlarged sigils through the air, each one corresponding to a flash of arcane fire, a cyclone of pure force, dozens of magical attacks colliding with the goblins’ front lines, slowing their advance and disorienting their forces. Darkness crept across the sky, as if a rain were rolling in, as the archers on each side of the battle loose their plumed death with astonishing speed. Tendrils of blood snake out from the soldiers struck down by the arrows, the vivid red of humanity and the dim, polluted maroon of the goblins mixing in the churning earth. Emeric saw panic knot the ranks of the men around him, and knew that hesitation meant death. His eyes a vortex of shadow, his arms sweep across the sky, seeming larger than life as he blows an arcane wind towards the goblin archers, causing their arrows to falter at the summit of their deadly arc. With a wordless snarl, the summoned wind erupted in a geyser of flame rising hundreds of feet into the sky, charring the goblin arrows where they flew.
“For Stel! emerged from his lips, a rumbling battle cry that seemed to come from the depths of the earth itself. His fellow casters regained their composure, seeing the sheer amounts of energy they could harness, steeling themselves for the fight once more. In the aftermath of Emeric’s pillar of fire, as the orange hue faded from the faces of man and goblin alike, Emeric lowered his hands, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. He spared no time for reflection, the shadows of the goblin horde still beckoned, and the price of hesitation was too high. Aldric looks to him from the melee in the front, while removing his blade from the shoulder of a goblin who, moments ago, was charging him with a deadly intent. “Onwards, men!” he growled, his voice hoarse from the exertion. “The queen’s counting on us to crush this vicious horde here and now!” The men and women of the Royal Army roared their approval, their spirits buoyed by the displays of power and pride. Emeric knew it was a hollow victory, a brief respite from the maelstrom of death swirling around them. They pressed on, steeling themselves for the next wave of enemies to clash with their lines.
And sure enough, never ending, from the charred ruins of the once-verdant trees, the goblins surged forth once more, a frenzied parade of animalistic savagery and a deeper pit of darkness. As the day wore on, the battle raged on, the battlefield a hellish landscape of smoke, blood, and the cries of the fallen. Emeric’s heart pounded in time with the clashes of steel and the crackling of his own spells. His vision narrowed to the goblin horde that raged against the Stellan defense, and he felt his rage and grief coil like a serpent in his chest. With every fallen comrade, every banner that hit the ground, his determination to avenge his lost friends and protect his homeland only grew. Savi moved among the wounded like a beacon of hope, her healing touch and soothing words working miracles on the battle-weary soldiers. Her divine shields woven in the air provided a brief respite for the soldiers from the fear of a crude goblin arrowhead skewering them, but she knew this was a hollow sanctuary. She felt the weight of the conflict, the loss of life weighing heavy on her shoulders, but she forced herself to remain strong. As a cleric of the divine, it was her duty to ease the suffering of those around her and to be a symbol of hope in the darkest of hours.
Keyon, on the other hand, was a force of nature, his body a whirlwind of lethal blows and primal fury. The very air around him seemed to crackle with the power of the wilds he so loves. The battle raged on, flames licking against the darkening sky as steel clashed with iron and bone. Emeric, Savi, and Keyon had been drawn together once more, fighting back-to-back, their breathing labored but their determination unwavering. The tide of battle began to shift when Savi’s prayers and incantations were answered with a blinding wave of radiant energy that scorched the advancing goblins. Keyon seized the opportunity, his fists and daggers a blur of death, moving as effortlessly through the carnage as a deer through the forest. Emeric, his eyes near-total voids from his arcane power, weaved spells of destruction, cutting down the retreating horde. The three heroes emerged from the melee, their armor and robes dented and bloodied, spirits unbroken. Before them, Grimnok, the cunning goblin warlord, backed against a charred tree, barbed spear trembling in his claws. Emeric’s voice hissed forth like the chill of winter, “your end has come, Grimnok.”
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“You defeat me,” The goblin’s eyes narrowed, realizing he was cornered, “you no-change in here-land” he hissed, the heroes taken aback by his grasp of their tongue. Emeric felt a shiver of unease as he recognized the influence of the obscured shadowy figures from his vision. Savi stepped forward, her hand raised high. “You are afforded no repentance in the eyes of the g-” Grimnok spat a vile curse in the coarse goblin tongue, and lunged at her with his spear. Keyon was faster, interposing himself between Savi and certain death. His body shuddered as the spear impaled him, but in his dying breath, he plunged his dagger into Grimnok’s heart. Emeric’s world slowed as Keyon collapsed, Savi’s desperate prayers fading into the background as he saw his new comrade fall just as his brothers in arms fell before. Grimnok’s lifeless eyes stared at him, a twisted grin on his malformed lips. The goblin’s final words echoed in his mind…
The forest fell silent, the only sound the crackling of the dying flames and the desperate sobs of the healer trying in vain to save their fallen comrade. The shadows seemed to deepen around them, as if sensing the loss of one of the few lights on their path. Emeric felt a chill creep into his very bones. They had won this battle, but he cannot shake the feeling that the shroud of darkness passing over Heren had yet to be averted.
- - -
Savi knelt in the blood-soaked earth, head bent over Keyon’s body, his tough, bark-like skin not enough to prevent Grimnok’s spear from ripping him nearly in two. Savi was taken back to the night Keyon was brought to the temple, torn nearly into pieces, almost as he was now. Surely, surely this was some cruel joke. The past weeks spent growing to trust each other, scraping through by the skin of their teeth, surely that didn’t end right where it began, she cannot help but think. Shaken from her sorrow, Emeric’s hand rests on her shoulder. “We can’t stay here,” he said, his voice a guttural growl. “There will be more of them, scavenging, and we… we can’t…” He couldn’t finish the thought as he turned away from the carnage, fighting to retain his tenuous grip on his sanity.
Savi nods, tears streaming down her cheeks. Together, they retreat from the shadows of the forest, their hearts heavy with grief and the weight of the conflict still to come. And so, the sun finally set on that bloodstained field, casting long, twisted shadows across the land, a foreboding omen of the darkness to come.
- - -
Once more, a cloaked figure makes his way over the crest of a gentle hill in the wilds of Stel. His cloak hangs limp behind him, stained with blood and sweat, caked in the earth of the land beneath him. His boots find their path through the field of corpses, burned and dismembered. His eyes, once so full of hope and determination, are downcast, reflecting the body of his friend, carried by his magical energies flowing through the air, his chest opened wide by a cruel barbed spear, forged of hatred and darkness. The subtle glow of embers linger across the fields, remnants of the arcane fire flung at the enemy. He is not alone, not anymore, but somehow that is no solace for the loss of his newfound comrade. With a heavy sigh, he trudges onwards, returning to a land that seemed altogether different from the dusk’s light the day before.