Torfang watched his fellow Lord, Gorefist, batter aside their hated enemy as the mages before him continued to cast spells. He ignored them, as the lesser eldritch spawn continued onward taking the brunt of the attacks.
“Magebane…” He snarled. He’d been the first Lord to fight her, but not the last. Not by far. Most of his fellow Lords have fought against the Magebane, failing to kill her. She’d even killed one of their precious number. To his shame, he couldn’t help avenge the fallen lord until recently. He’d spent most of this previous year in the eldritch pools restoring his strength after the Magebane had damaged his eldritch heart. He wanted to join in the fight, but restrained himself. The Magebane was far more deadly outside the mists. That idiot Gorefist wasn’t supposed to follow her beyond their protection. That battled crazed fool was going to get himself killed.
The mists parted and Narvel appeared, his bony wings suspending him above the fray. He stopped, hovering in place as Gorefist charged away from the mists, pursuing the Magebane. No doubt he was debating on what to do as well. Pursue the Magebane and perhaps kill her, or leave Gorefist to his fate.
Torfang decided for them. Gorefist was one of only a few Eldritch Lords. They couldn’t afford to lose him. They would only fight as much as they had to. Their goal would be to get him back safely. Besides, they wouldn’t be alone. With a mental command Torfang called the spawn to him as he rushed after the Gorefist. He made sure to secure the prizes he had so far. The mages would take some time to fully change. They would be safe in the mists while it happened. The captured kin had another fate waiting for them. He only hoped that this would be worth it as the horde left the mages to chase a single kin.
God’s above that had been close. Damn that bitch Kelfina, Sylvar thought blowing his blonde hair from his eyes. He watched the horde leave his limbs trembling from fatigue. It wasn’t hard to guess why. There was only one person who could instill such rage in the abominations. If only he had more elves he could thin the horde. It was a dream. Most of the other elves had already departed for their home grove. Only he and a hand full of others remained. The reason was obvious, at least for himself. He was disgraced. Under his leadership he lost over a hundred elite elves at the battle of Fortunia. Many were lost to the Magebane herself.
“EAGLE SIGHT,” Sylvar muttered. As he thought. The Magebane was there fighting a rather imposing Lord that towered over her. She kept falling back luring the Lord away from the mists. It was a smart ploy. Get the Lord far enough away and they’d gradually weaken. At the very least they couldn’t replenish their power. Most were smart enough to avoid such gambles. This one appeared to be mentally lesser than the other Lords, on the other hand… He winced as the Magebane took a nasty blow crumbling her to the ground. She barely avoided a follow up swing that sent a plume of debris upwards blocking his view. Sylvar turned to look at the other ten elves with him. All of them were bastards who parents expressed to him that they rather not see them return. Better to fall in battle than be the shame of the family back home. No. He’ll keep them alive just to spite them.
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He gave the Magebane one last look before leading his men back to the barracks. Let her deal with her own problems.
This was a problem. Thwack was exceptionally pissed today. Azura thought as she leaped away drawing him farther from the mists. Then again, this was a chance to get rid of the brute once and for all. Azura glanced behind the Lord to the rapidly closing horde. She had a minute, perhaps two then she’d have to run. Did she have enough time to finish him? Unlikely and there was no way she could take three Lords at once. Even with the cultivators she wasn’t willing to risk them for this. She readied herself for Thwack’s next attack, when Hamal struck from the shadows. He darted at full speed between Thwack’s legs a thin cord held in his hands. Azura heart nearly stopped when he barely avoided being squished. Then he was through pulling the cord tight, the other end held by Gerald. Thwack swayed as his foot was caught. She needed no further prompting. With a mighty leap she spun doing a roundhouse kick across the brute’s face. Her claws tore deeply into its flesh as he went down. Her elation was short lived as the horde screeched in fury doubling their speed. There wasn’t enough time to finish him. That was when the rest of the cultivators interposed themselves between her and horde. They were the few, standing against the approaching tide. The eldritch horde crashed into the wall of cultivators breaking upon their indomitable will. Abominations who were many times the size of their kin counterparts were thrown back like pebbles. Smaller spawn were simply kicked into the far distance, their wails almost comical.
Her people were fighting with their all for her. How could she do any less? Azura burned another piece of ki as Thwack got to his feet roaring. That was the last sound he ever made as Azura unleashed her full might on the Eldritch Lord. If Thwack was in the mists he would’ve survived. If one of the other Lords were just a bit faster, he would’ve survived. If the oversize brute saw the attack he’d could’ve crafted a barrier in time, he might have survived. None of those things happened. Azura reared her fist back putting all her raging power of her consumed ki behind her blow. She didn’t stop there. Azura Exhausted a large portion of her remaining ki, her resulting strike tore at reality itself.
SHATTER.
Azura commanded and the world was forced to obey, screaming in outrage as it did. Thwack vanished from the waist up. The remains of his six arms were tossed high in the air landing miles away. Of the rest of him there was, nothing. Not a single fleshy pulp on the ground. Not a speck of blood. It was all just, gone. The remains of Thwack swayed, then collapsed.
Azura turned to face the horde trying to hide her exhaustion. This was bad. If they continued to attack… the thought ended. The horde and the other two remaining Lords were already fleeing back to the mists.
It was over. They’d won. Azura looked to the kin. Several were hurt. A few lay unmoving. Even as she watch cultivators from the support group quickly picked up the fallen, hauling them back towards Azure’s Rest. She only hoped they’d make it. She turn to regard her closest friends and knew it was time. Tomorrow, they would advance.