In the southernmost bastion of the Seraphic Empire’s territories, perched atop the ancient fortress walls, stood Ryffka, a scout of the Stymph species. Unlike his human counterparts, Ryffka was adorned with a plumage of teal and white feathers instead of hair, a distinctive trait of his kind.
Descended from a union of Humans or Elves and Harpies, the Stymphs were lean, petite, and agile. Dyffka moved with a grace that belied his keen alertness as his sharp eyes constantly scanned the horizon.
Like many of his people, Ryffka was a mage skilled in the arcane and reconnaissance arts; in his hand, he held his trusted blade staff. Even though the focusing stone on his blade staff was modest, his weapon was standard equipment for any war mage or freelancer. The weapon was a testament to practicality and necessity, lessons hard learned over the eons that eventually, a mage would run out of mana. In such a scenario, you couldn’t always count on your mates to save you, and without the means to defend themselves, you were as good as dead. The blade staff addressed this vulnerability with its dual function as a magical focus and melee weapon.
Ryffka's hand ran along his weapon, gliding over the worn but sturdy shaft. It led up to a sharp and functional blade yet lacked the ornate craftsmanship seen in the weapons of more affluent mages. The most critical component of the staff is the focusing stone embedded near the blade. It was a simple, inexpensive crystal, but it did its job well enough, and it channeled Ryffka's magical energies into spells reliably. It was far from the powerful artifacts wielded by high-ranking mages of the Empire, but Ryffka was happy with what he had now.
At least until he was able to get an upgrade.
The Stymph had aspirations, though. His service in the Empire's Auxiliary Corps was not just a duty but a stepping stone. He dreamed of accumulating enough wealth to purchase a blade staff befitting a mage of his skill. A more potent focusing stone, perhaps even one imbued with specific elements he already specialized in, would significantly enhance his magical prowess. With such a weapon in hand, he envisioned himself taking up the life of a freelancer, offering his services to the highest bidder, free from the rigid structure of the Empire's military.
As he stood to watch over the fortress walls, his daydreams occupied his mind while the sun slowly dipped below the horizon, covering everything in an ethereal darkness. Ryffka squinted his eyes, focusing on a distant point on the horizon, exploiting his species' exceptional vision, and once again scanned the horizon. Seeing far beyond ordinary beings' capabilities was a Stymph's hallmark. Since he was being paid rather handsomely to man the fortress in this god-awful backwater, he may as well do his job.
“I don’t see why anyone would be stupid enough to attack us…” Another Auxiliary, a shorter-eared Sun Elf, spoke up with a yawn.
There was a flicker, a hint of movement so far off that it seemed like a mere speck against the vastness of the landscape.
Maintaining his vigil, Ryffka turned slightly towards the Sun Elf, now sitting lazily against the wall. "The reports we've received paint a terrifying picture of these otherworlders," Ryffka replied, his tone serious and tinged with caution. "Underestimating them would be more than foolish, and I don’t plan to come to an untimely end."
The Sun Elf, whom Ryffka knew as Talarion, waved a hand dismissively and wore an expression of boredom mixed with disdain. "Those reports are nothing but inflated tales, Ryffka. It's naive to believe such nonsense," Talarion scoffed, his voice laced with contempt. "How can anyone give credence to the ludicrous stories those puffed-up noblemen and Drakonics spout? Even they don't believe the rubbish they peddle, but duty compels them to regurgitate such garbage."
Ryffka frowned as his feathers ruffled slightly in irritation. Talarion's skepticism was not uncommon among their ranks, but the Stymph knew better than to dismiss the potential threat so lightly. "Whether you believe it or not, Talarion, the Empire wouldn't station us here, at the edge of nowhere, if there weren't a genuine threat."
“Gods damn superstitious Stymphs,” Talarion snorted, rolling his eyes. "Sure, Ryffka. Keep your eyes peeled for those mythical dragons and monsters. I'll just be here, enjoying a well-deserved rest. After all, who in their right mind would dare attack an Empire fortress? And even if they did, we’d catch wind of ‘em comin’ this way before they were a day's travel away."
Heaving a sigh, Ryffka turned his gaze back to the horizon to resume his vigil watch. He knew arguing with Talarion was pointless. The Sun Elf's laziness and skepticism were as steadfast as the fortress walls. Ryffka was well aware of the stereotype Stymphs had for being gullible and naive. However, he couldn't shake off the unease in his chest. The reports might have been exaggerated, but he couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that something significant was amiss. His instincts, honed by years of scouting and hunting, warned him of impending and dreadful danger, and no matter what he did, he simply couldn’t shake it.
As time passed, Ryffka maintained his watchful gaze over the lightly forested plains and the seemingly clear horizon while he stood atop the fortress walls. The night was quiet; the only sounds were the calls of nocturnal creatures and the occasional murmur of soldiers on their rounds. But despite his vigilance, fatigue began to creep in as Ryffka’s eyelids became heavier and heavier.
Rubbing his eyes to refocus, Ryffka took a deep breath, stretching his wings subtly to ease the tension in his back, but Talarion’s voice suddenly cut through. “You’re being ridiculous, Ryffka. Do you think anyone would be mad enough to attack us?” He said with a voice laced with arrogance and a hint of mockery. “We may be in some backwater outpost, but we're still a key stronghold of the Empire."
He leaned back against the wall, his posture relaxed to the point of being negligent. With a snide chuckle, he continued, "Just half a day's travel east and west of here are encampments filled with our finest soldiers.” Talarien waved his hand dismissively.” Not to mention the wyverns and the smaller dragons patrolling the skies. We are an impenetrable bulwark."
Talarion's gaze swept dismissively over the horizon. "Honestly, I think you Stymphs take your duties a bit too seriously. But then again, what would one expect from a harpy spawn.”
Ryffka's feathers bristled at Talarion's last comment, a mixture of anger and frustration boiling within him. He opened his mouth, ready to retort, but the thunderous roar of a dragon overhead suddenly drowned out his words. Stymph and the Sun Elf instinctively looked up to witness the massive creature beat its wings and rapidly accelerate southwards.
"What's got that stupid bundle of scales so riled up?" Talarion grumbled, standing up from his slouched position against the wall.
Dismissing his compatriot’s disrespectful comments, Ryffka refocused his exceptional vision on the horizon. As he scanned the skies, his sharp eyes caught sight of something… unusual. There, almost invisible against the night sky, were several tiny dots moving swiftly like a flock of birds.
“Talarion, look!” Ryffka pointed towards the distant specks, his voice tense with urgency.
Narrowing his eyes, Talarion looked in the direction Ryffka was pointing, but his vision paled compared to that of a Stymph. "I can't see a damn thing, Ryffka. You're probably just seeing shadows or something," he said, giving the Stymph the side eye.
Disbelief spread across Ryffka’s face as he stared back. He gestured wildly in the direction of the sky, his movements animated and his feathers fluttering in agitation. "How can you be so blind!? The dragons, the wyverns, they are all reacting! They see it, they sense it!" Ryffka exclaimed, his voice rising in both frustration and alarm.
His hands moved expressively, almost as if he were trying to paint the situation's urgency in the air itself. "Even those great beasts of the Empire are acknowledging something out there!" he continued, his gestures becoming more frantic. "How can you just dismiss this as nothing!? This is objective reality staring us right in the face!"
Talarion watched Ryffka's meltdown with a mix of concern and skepticism. The Stymph's distress was palpable, and though Talarion himself couldn't see what Ryffka was seeing, the unusual behavior of the dragons and wyverns did lend some credence to his claims.
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Turning to observe the other spires where lookouts were, Talarion noted the casual glances they gave. the dragons and wyverns before their attention quickly returned to their mundane tasks. "If things are so dire, why does no one else care?" he questioned, his tone laced with doubt.
However, the Sun Elf shook his head with an expression of resignation. "Fine, we'll go to the commanders, but it's your head," Talarion warned, indicating he was still far from convinced.
Ryffka, in turn, hung his head upwards and exasperatedly dragged a hand across his face. The level of complacency and lack of urgency among his fellow soldiers baffled him. "These… morons…" he muttered as a self-deprecating laugh crept out of his mouth. “I guess that’s better than doing nothing and dying horribly.”
A sudden, startling change caught his attention as he returned to the horizon. Bright orange flashes enveloped the dragons and wyverns simultaneously, lighting the night sky. The sight was breathtaking and ominous, and for a moment, Ryffka stood frozen, his eyes wide with shock and realization.
The dragons and wyverns, previously just distant silhouettes against the night, were now engulfed in flames, their majestic forms twisting and writhing. The dragons screeched in pain and somehow maintained their flight, but the wyverns… were torn asunder and plummeted towards the ground. The sight was apocalyptic, a spectacle of destruction that silenced even the ever-skeptical Talarion.
In the stillness of the moment, the gravity of the situation finally seemed to dawn on the Sun Elf. Talarion's eyes were fixed on the falling creatures, his earlier arrogance replaced by a growing sense of dread. And just as he opened his mouth to yell, the delayed deafening and concussive blasts finally hit his body.
Turning towards the Stymph, Talarion noticed the feathered man was already racing down their spire with a speed he thought impossible for someone so thin.
Ryffka's swift movement was a blur of teal and white as he darted down the spire. His every step was driven by urgency, his mind racing and his heart pounding as the other spires finally stirred from their stupor. The flames that had engulfed the dragons and wyverns in the sky were a dire omen, signaling a threat far greater than any of them had anticipated.
When the Stymph arrived at the few commanders that were on their way into the citadel, he pointed at the sky while sucking in hair. “Th-th-the!” He stammered, completely out of breath. "The sky! The dragons! The wyverns!" Ryffka gasped, struggling to articulate the chaos they had witnessed. "They're under attack! We’re under attack!"
Taken aback by the sudden intrusion. The commanders quickly turned their attention to the Stymph and the Sun Elf tumbling down the stairs after tripping.
The disarray was palpable among the officers as they processed Ryffka and Talarion's report. Despite the clear signs of danger, their response was mired in hesitation while they exchanged bewildered looks.
"You're sure it's an attack?" one of the commanders asked, his voice tinged with skepticism. "It could just be a training exercise gone wrong, or perhaps..."
Ryffka, still panting from his sprint, interjected with a mix of frustration and urgency. "No! It's an attack! The dragons, the wyverns... they-they! They exploded!” He gestured his arms to make an explosion motion. “We have to act now!”
Despite the sentry’s insistence, the commanders seemed reluctant to initiate a response. They huddled together, discussing the situation in hushed tones marked by a noticeable unease. "Why isn't anyone else reacting to this?" one of the officers murmured, his eyes darting towards the other spires where they seemed more alert than normal, but weren’t making moves.
Another commander, his brow furrowed in thought, replied, "We need a consensus from higher command. We can't just rally the troops based on a single report, no matter how alarming it might be."
The conversation continued in this vein, with the officers debating the credibility of the report and the appropriate course of action. Ryffka, standing a little off to the side, felt a growing sense of frustration and helplessness as his hands pressed against his head. The sounds of distant explosions echoed through the night, each one seemingly causing a blood vessel to burst in the poor Stymph.
"We should request an audience with the Seraphic commander," suggested one officer finally. "They'll have a better grasp of the overall situation and can guide us on what to do."
The others nodded in agreement, though the decision brought little comfort to Ryffka. The Stymph scout felt as though he was watching precious seconds turn to minutes and the possibility of reacting to this threat slipping away and potentially costing lives the safety of the fortress.
“Madness….” Ryffka muttered, turning his head around the place. “You’re all mad!”
The Stymph’s distress was palpable as he watched the commanders dither, their indecision a stark contrast to the urgency of the situation. The distant rumble of explosions was a relentless reminder that something unprecedented and terrifying was unfolding, yet the officers seemed paralyzed, unable to move beyond their rigid protocols.
As he turned back to look at the horizon, the night erupted in chaos. Distant spires, which had been quiet and seemingly secure moments before, suddenly exploded into flames, sending debris and sentries flying through the air. The shockwaves of the blasts were felt even from where Ryffka and Talarion stood, and the night sky was illuminated with fiery destruction.
Before anyone could fully process the devastation, the air was filled with the droning thumps of an unknown force. His eyes widened in disbelief as a massive horde of strange, black flying creatures flooded the area. These weren't the dragons or wyverns he was familiar with; these were wingless monsters that spewed fire and death from its sides to rain down upon the fortress with unrelenting fury.
Horrible buzzing noises and staccato of repeated small explosions resounded everywhere he looked as the smaller, more agile creatures darted around the larger beasts, pounding the fortress walls and towers with their strange weapons. The larger flying creatures, meanwhile, hovered over designated spots, dropping ropes from their sides.
Ryffka watched, his heart pounding in his chest, as humanoid beings dressed in strange irregular foliage colored clothing slid down the ropes, descending upon the fortress like a swarm of vengeful spirits.
The onslaught was relentless and brutal. The strange beings descended upon the walls, the buildings littering the fortress and even the citadel's various rooftops and balconies with a terrifying efficiency. They moved with a mechanical and deadly precision that Ryffka had never witnessed before. It was as if they were not of this world, their tactics and weaponry far beyond anything the Empire had ever encountered.
Talarion, finally catching up to Ryffka, gasped for breath. "What in the world is going on?" he managed to utter, his voice a mix of awe and fear.
But before Ryffka could even attempt to formulate a response, the air was suddenly filled with a series of horrible hissing and snapping noises. It was a sound unlike anything he had ever heard, a malevolent chorus that chilled him to the bone.
Recognizing the sounds of small projectiles moving extremely fast, Ryffka grabbed Talarion and pulled him to the ground. "Down, now!" he screeched, as he pulled his scout partner face first into the dirt.
That act alone had saved their lives, for as they hit the ground, Ryffka's sharp eyes watched as the group of officers who had been debating their response to the crisis, suddenly gasped and yelped in pain. He watched in horror as they clutched their bodies, stumbling back into the citadel proper, their uniforms stained with sudden blooms of red.
Never in his life had he been thankful for enduring the horrors of those gods forsaken goblins during the Empire's previous pacification endeavors, because he knew exactly what to do next.
Run.
Ryffka's instincts screamed at him to move, to escape the deadly storm of whatever in the infinite hells was raining down around them. With a firm grip on Talarion's arm, he hauled the Sun Elf to his feet and sprinted with all the speed and agility his Stymph heritage granted him. Their movements were frantic and desperate as they evaded the hissing and snapping that seemed to follow them like a malevolent shadow.
All around them, the scene was one of utter chaos and despair. His fellow soldiers, brothers-in-arms, were caught unprepared, their attempts at defense crumbling under the relentless assault of the green-clad invaders. Many collapsed after their bodies were wracked with the impact of the strange and lethal projectiles, and the two balked at their cries of pain and pleas for help.
With a mix of fear and adrenaline fueling his rapid flight, Ryffka's heart pounded in his chest. And as he dared a glance over his shoulder, his sight was greeted with more explosions that rocked the citadel. This was followed by green figures pouring into the fortress while their strange weapons spat fire and death with every step they took as they breached and entered the citadel on multiple floors.
"See! Those gods-damned reports weren't exaggerated!" Ryffka yelled at Talarion with a bitter mixture of panic and vindication. "I knew something horrible was going to happen!"
Talarion, however, was screaming like a banshee the entire time as he did his best to keep up with Ryffka, stumbling around As the two navigated through the crumbling fortress.
The echoes of gunfire and explosions pierced the night air as the two scrambled away, Dodging debris and navigating through the destruction and toward a specific part of the walls. There, Ryffkas knew that part of the fortress had a narrow hole they could fit through due to the shoddy construction of the Kobold slaves that manned that area.
Without hesitation, Ryffka led Talarion through the gap, his keen eyes scanning for any immediate threats as they made their escape, fueled by a primal urge to survive. Once outside the fortress, they found themselves on the edge of a dense treeline, and without looking back, the men ran for their lives.