image [https://i.imgur.com/WxgkjSv.png]
"Damn it! Humans are such fools," the elven queen muttered under her breath, her frustration evident after a long and futile meeting with the messengers from the holy kingdom. She sighed, disappointed in their lack of understanding of the dire situation they all faced. "At this rate, the fighting will never end!"
Standing by the door, maintaining guard, a voice came as a silent deceptive thought, "My Queen, Grismala, perhaps it is no longer safe for us to remain here. I urge you to consider escaping before the war reaches our doorstep," Anderson advised, concern etched on his face.
This angered a reaction from Grismala, with a fury etched in her tone, she struck her table, the pages that lied above it descended onto the ground as she sternly looked at Anderson. "If we leave now, the Tree of Life will fall. Tasildor will be no more, the hope and dream of the elven race will perish." Her voice trembled with uncertainty. "Withhhhhooooout its protection, our powers WILL wane, and we will age like the humans, slowly withering away..."
Anderson fell silent as Grismala stood from her seat, beckoning him to follow. But just as they started to move, a breathless messenger arrived, delivering urgent news. "My queen! The demon army has arrived! They are gathering at the southern gate! We need your immediate orders!"
Grismala's eyes widened in shock upon hearing the news. The arrival of the demonic army had been expected, but not this soon. Without hesitation, she hurried towards the southern gate to assess the situation firsthand. As they made their way through the panicked town, chaos ensued. The townsfolk were in a state of frenzy, screaming at each other and desperately trying to prepare for the impending invasion. Grismala pressed on, pushing past the terrified people who added to the tumultuous atmosphere.
"Damn it," Grismala muttered, her voice laced with frustration, as they forged ahead through the chaos-ridden town. Riding horses, with Anderson by her side, Grismala arrived at the southern gates that protected the capital. Tasildor was a grand sanctuary of the elves, separated into the known four distinct sectors. The Northern which was closest to the great tree, and last line of defense. The Western which acted as a market sector for people, humans, elves and dwarves alike. The Eastern which acted as an industrial sector for the elven craftsmen. And lastly the Southern sector which held the vast majority of the elven soldiers, acting as the front force of Tasildor. The only entrance to the city was from the southern gate. For one to reach Tasildor itself, they would have to traverse through all four sectors, proving to create a difficult obstacle for any invaders. The city was fortified on all sides with advanced elven rune technology, boasting impenetrable walls and formidable gates capable of withstanding even the fiercest attacks. However, the presence of the demons filled Grismala with doubt about the effectiveness of their defenses.
Ascending the battlements, she saw her soldiers stationed along the walls, armed with bows and arrows. They looked out into the distance with a mixture of fear and determination. "Soldiers!" Anderson yelled, bringing everyone to attention. "Queen Grismala, long may she reign, has come to assess the situation! Be at attention!"
Grismala quickly made her way to the turrets of the walls looking beyond them. Standing proudly on the opposing side was Alpos and his demonic forces, alongside Vorner, a power-hungry human who had no allegiance but to himself. The hills at which Alpos and his soldiers stood on were once green and bright, but brought on by their demonic forces, equiped with heavy dark armor, the greenery had vanished from sight, covered with unholy blight. Grimacing at the sight of the demons, Grismala clenched her teeth for their numbers far surpassed her expectations. Though they numbered close to a sum of thirty thousand, the majority consisted of Impions, a demon race that the elves excelled at fighting. The strength of the elves was known across the land, and single elven soldier could handle a dozen Impions easily.
However, the demons now before her gates were different, fully clad in formidable metal armor. All of them standing at attention with a chain of command present. A thought crossed Grismala's mind as she watched over them, "Why are they just standing there?" Grismala muttered to herself.
Anderson, quick to act, gave the order, without Grismala's approval, "Bowmen! Take your positions! Shoot down any who dare approach!"
The ones that guarded the gates were regarded as the royal bowmen, a force of skilled soldiers capable of launching magic-infused arrows. With Anderson's command in motion, they quickly readied themselves. However, the demons remained patiently in the distance, out of range for the arrows to reach.
Grismala turned with fury that Anderson had given an order without her consent, but a feeling made her once more face her true enemies in the distance. An impending sensation of doom etched into her mind. Suddenly, Infernal gateways ruptured in the air, opening a pathway to the very depths of hell itself behind the demon ranks. The air surrounding it crackled with infernal energies from which demonic siege weapons emerged onto the battlefield. These monstrous machines, instruments of terror, were dragged forward by undead goblins who groaned in pain as they strained to pull the chains that moved the massive contraptions.
The siege weapons were brought forward at a snail's pace, but this pace created a sense of trepidation in the elven soldiers who watched in horror as each one of the constructs were far larger than the walls they stood on. And yet, despite their formidable strength, the demons remained motionless. Grismala's gaze locked with Alpos's sinister grin, filling her with a fear she had never experienced before.
The skies grew darker as the menacing black clouds approached the city. "What... power..." Grismala muttered as she looked above, A palpable darkness descended upon the land, accompanied by a deafening roar that emanated from the ominous clouds.
From the darkened skies, a horde of locusts, numbering in thousands if not tens of thousands, descended upon the elven city from the sky. These ravenous insects feasted upon the flesh of the elven soldiers, causing agonizing screams to echo from atop the walls. The wave of locusts engulfed the entire sector, their insatiable hunger leaving destruction in their wake. Amidst the chaos of the beastly onslaught, Grismala's attention was drawn back to the patiently waiting demons.
The infernal juggernauts, the instruments of doom, began to come to life. The fires within their bowels burned with intense heat, ready to be unleashed upon the city. Seeing the sight unfold before her, time running short, with a determined voice, Grismala declared, "I must put an end to this madness!" She immediately began chanting, her every word infused with desperation, while Anderson fiercely guarded her.
"Gods above, I beseech thee, grant me the power to protect my people!"
A profound silence filled the air as the battle raged on. Anderson with fury cut down locusts flying in the air in hopes to defend her until she was ready. However, Grismala's spell yielded no response from the heavens above. The divine did not answer her call.
Yet, another deity, one of malevolence, with a sinister smile etched into the fabric of his being, heard her pleas and offered her his dark gifts in turn.
Flames descended from the skies, accompanied by thunderous roars that shook the very foundations of buildings, scattering debris and causing rocks to rain down upon the elven soldiers. The infernal flames consumed everything in their path with ferocious fury, while the relentless locusts devoured both flesh and stone. "This is sheer madness..." Grismala muttered under her breath.
Realizing that the Gods had forsaken her, she took fate into her own hands, tapping into the power of the Tree of Life and channeling its energy. With a surge of determination, she unleashed a torrent of blazing flames from her outstretched hands, directing her magic towards the airborne locusts. The insects were consumed by righteous fury, incinerated in the searing inferno. The remaining locusts were swiftly eliminated by the combined efforts of the royal bowmen and soldiers. Yet, the onslaught of fire continued unabated, forcing the soldiers to dodge and defend against the relentless downpour.
As the locusts dissipated, the skies reverberated with a sinister laughter that seemed to emanate from the depths of hell itself. The clouds stretched across the horizon as far as the eye could see, casting an ominous shadow over the world itself.
"Soldiers, stand firm! Do not waver!" A resolute dwarven general bellowed, his voice echoing through the city streets, instilling a sense of unity and purpose in the bewildered elves. "The mighty Army of the Great Dwarven Nation fights alongside you, defending this noble city!"
With a thunderous battle cry, dwarves and elves alike unleashed their pent-up frustrations in a unified roar, their determination resolute.
A burst of chilling laughter resounded, as if the eyes of darkness had been cast on the land, watching their every move, shattering the newfound unity under its gaze. The laughter seemed to carry the weight of their fears, instantly reigniting the tension in the air.
The laughter was followed by a sound that oozed with malevolence. In the distance, the infernal siege weapons rumbled to life, unleashing their first volley of hellfire into the sky. The flames cut through the darkened skies, descending from the very skies to collide with the battlements, devouring the once formidable walls as if they were mere paper, consuming everything in their path. Grismala, watched in horror as the face of one of the soldiers standing next to her melted away by the searing heat of the hellfire, her final screams taunting her mind.
Grismala, quick to act, swiftly re-erected the walls that had collapsed with a quick patch of dirt. Anderson made his way to a high tower to get a better view of their situation. While the two made their efforts to figure a way to hold the demonic invasion, the dwarven general was going down the steps from whence he came. A act of cowardice in the face of true evil, frightened to the core, the General made his leave in the midst of the chaos, muttering underneath his breath, "not today, not today."
image [https://i.imgur.com/eY2gF5l.png]
Watching the battle unfold, Alpos and Vorner stood side by side with smirks on their faces. Vorner, was the first to suggest. "What an incredible spectacle... Our lord is the only one worthy to be called the God of Demons... But we are prolonging this too far, perhaps it would be wise to make our move."
Alpos, the ever so deceitful yet cunning imp he was, thought deeply for a moment. He knew that his lord wanted a prolonged fight with many casualties, however, he could not risk the interference of an outside force arriving to the rescue. He collected his thoughts, before he spoke. "We should not underestimate the elves, but I do believe it is time. Their forces have been greatly weakened thanks to our lords' gifts..."
"Send in the first wave!" Alpos commanded, his voice roaring among the demon ranks, ringing over the clamor of battle. Just as his voice thundered across the battlefield, The demonic war drums throbbed with an eerie rhythm, stirring the Impions into synchronized march, their banner carriers held high to bolster their morale. "Leaveeee no one aliveeeee!"
With the forces of darkness and chaos on the march, Alpos remained back, with Vorner by his side. Hoping to spark a conversation with him, Vorner approached. "That was quite the command you gave." He remarked sarcastically.
"It is to end this battle so we can deal with what comes next—a mere steppingstone to the grand design."
"What comes next?" Vorner questioned, his curiosity piqued.
"Surely you've realized this invasion is no mere attack. It's a systematic effort to weaken the elven races entirely."
"What do you mean by that...?" Vorner asked, sensing the gravity of Arbious and Alpos's plans.
"This invasion aims to burn Tasildor to the ground, not just the city or its people, but the entire land will be covered in blood, blight, and flames. Does that clarify things for you?" Alpos's excitement was palpable as he spoke, his gaze fixed on his marching soldiers.
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"With Tasildor destroyed, and its powers ours, our lord will be stronger than ever before."
Vorner, terrified yet exhilarated, continued to grin, feeling like he was finally on the winning side. Despite his fears, he couldn't help but feel envious of his lords' power and ambition. His mind raced with thoughts of the impending destruction and the power that would follow. He knew he had to tread carefully, for even in his excitement, the stakes were high, and any misstep could spell disaster.
"What of the angels?" Vorner pressed, his voice tinged with concern. "Surely, they will not sit idly by while Tasildor is under siege. They have always been the protectors of this realm."
Alpos's expression darkened at the mention of the angels. "The angels are formidable, but they are not invincible. Our great lord, Arbious, has plans in motion to deal with them, should they intervene. Their interference will not be of consequence."
Vorner nodded, though his unease grew. The thought of facing the angels, beings of immense power and righteousness, filled him with a mixture of dread and excitement. "What is my role in all of this?" Vorner asked, trying to mask his uncertainty. "How can I serve our cause?"
Alpos regarded him for a moment before speaking. "Your loyalty and dedication have not gone unnoticed, Vorner. You will play a crucial role in the final stages of our plan. But until then, let's enjoy the show."
Vorner and Alpos stood in silence, overlooking the battlefield, and the vast expanse of land that led to the towering walls of Tasildor. Below them, the demonic troops, clad in dark armor and wielding wicked-looking weapons, marched in perfect formation, their movements synchronized and menacing. The ground shook with the weight of their footsteps, and the air was thick with the sounds of chanting and war cries. The sky above Tasildor was covered with darkness, as if blocking the light of the heavens from their unholy sight.
Vorner watched in awe and trepidation, his heart pounding in his chest. He had never seen such a sight, such a display of power. Despite his fears, a thrill ran through him, knowing that he was part of something momentous, something that would shape the fate of the world itself. Beside him, Alpos stood tall and proud, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. He turned to Vorner, a cruel smile playing on his lips.
"Behold, Vorner," he said, his voice low and filled with malice. "This is our moment of triumph. This is the day Tasildor falls."
image [https://i.imgur.com/QC2G41D.png]
Grismala made her way up the highest tower she could find by the gatehouse. Hurriedly no less. Realizing the dire situation they were in, she made her stance, overcame her fears, and addressed the cowering soldiers under her command. Raising her hand high into the air, as if beseeching the heavens, she proclaimed "May the Eternal Blessing guide our blades!"
With her spell activated, a ray of light descended from the darkened skies with intensity onto her hand, and the light covered her and those near her with its holy embrace, strengthening everyone's resolve in her presence. The guards, driven by desperation and fury, turned their gaze to their beloved city consumed by flames. Their voices mingled in a symphony of angst and sorrow as they notched their arrows, infusing them with potent magic before launching them into the heart of the battlefield. The arrows, empowered by elven enchantments, pierced through the demons' formidable armor, severing their ranks volley after volley.
"It's working!" Anderson exclaimed, as he watched hundreds of impions perish before his eyes. A glimmer of hope igniting within his voice. "Keep firing! Keep firing!" He urged to any who could hear his plea.
Wave after wave, the demons fell, their numbers dwindling with each volley. Yet, despite their losses, they pressed forward, driven by an insatiable hunger for destruction. The sounds of demonic war drums rung the air. "They're like mindless zombies! How can they keep marching into certain death?" Anderson pondered, looking at Grismala atop the high tower for answers.
"It matters not! Keep firing! Do not relent!" Grismala commanded, "Cut down their ranks without hesitation! Thousand gold coins to the one who has the most kills and survives by the end of this!"
As the guards heard her voice, a wave of determination washed over them. They knew deep down that this was not a battle they could win alone. With renewed spirits, the soldiers continued their barrage. Meanwhile, Grismala stood tall atop the crumbling tower, channeling her formidable powers. Her magic crackled in the wind, gathering strength, while her hair fluttered around her, a testament to the raw power she commanded. With the chaos of battle unfolding before her, Grismala focused her energy, tapping into the depths of her magical prowess. She invoked the ancient incantations of the 7th Tier Spell, "Holy Shockwave," her voice resonating with power and authority through the skies.
A brilliant light erupted from her palms, forming a shimmering sphere of energy. The sphere expanded rapidly, engulfing the demons in its radiant embrace. A shockwave rippled outwards, a wave of pure divine energy that tore through the demonic ranks.
The demons screamed as they were consumed by the holy energies, their twisted forms withering and crumbling to dust. The ground shook beneath Grismala's feet as the shockwave spread, decimating the enemy forces with righteous fury.
The soldiers stood in awe as the blinding holy light engulfed hundreds of demons in a single, devastating blast. Their cheers for Grismala echoed off the walls, a chorus of hope in the midst of chaos. Yet, as one fell, another seemed to rise in its place, the enemy appeared relentless and fearless in their advance.
Using her knowledge of the nature magic, Grismala tapped into the ancient energy that flowed through the roots of the Tree of Life. With a profound connection to the primal forces of nature, she invoked the 7th Tier Spell known as "Guardians of Tasildor."
The battlefield quivered as an immense force of energy surged forth, causing the earth to tremble in response. In a brilliant display of nature's power, twelve colossal treants, beings of incredible size and strength, emerged from the very fabric of the land. These towering guardians possessed trunks as thick as castle walls and branches that reached skyward, crowned with lush foliage.
These treants possessed an indomitable strength that belied their colossal stature. With each thunderous strike of their mighty wooden limbs, they demolished enemy forces, sweeping aside all who dared to challenge them. Their massive trunks became battering rams, splintering through the ranks of the opposition with ease.
The demons gathered beneath the treants, with the best of their abilities attempting to hack and slash on its wooden frame. From the skies, the demons were bombarded with arrows and magic, while the treants kicked the impions underneath their feet across the battlefield.
The ground shook beneath the treants' footsteps, and the enemy's formations crumbled in the wake of their assault. With every swing and stomp, the treants unleashed devastation upon the battlefield, reducing enemy ranks to mere rubble. Their towering presence and overwhelming might instilled a sense of awe among both allies and enemies alike.
Deep in her connection to the mystical energies of the Tree of Life, Grismala tapped into a wellspring of power, concocting a spell unique to her abilities: "Body of Elven Queen."
As the spell unfurled, a radiant aura enveloped Grismala, shimmering with ethereal energy. Her form became infused with the essence of Tasildor itself, granting her unparalleled resilience and augmented magical prowess. The very air around her crackled with an intensified arcane presence.
With the activation of the "Body of Elven Queen," Grismala's magical offensive spells gained newfound potency. Each incantation she cast was imbued with heightened power, soaring through the battlefield with enhanced force and precision. Bolts of energy crackled with intensified brilliance, and waves of destructive magic surged forth with increased devastation.
The spell's effect extended beyond her offensive capabilities. The "Body of Elven Queen" also manifested as a protective shield, reducing the impact of incoming damage upon Grismala. The ethereal barrier deflected blows and absorbed harmful energies, safeguarding her from harm and allowing her to endure the most ferocious assaults.
Arrows pierced the sky in a relentless shower, finding their mark amidst the swirling chaos of battle. Grismala, her eyes blazing with fury, unleashed torrents of elemental magic upon the encroaching demons. Fiery explosions erupted, consuming groups of demons in searing flames, while icy shards pierced through their ranks, freezing them in their tracks. With each motion of her hand, the very elements bent to her will, wreaking havoc upon the demonic horde.
The Impions rushed over to the walls, raising their ladders and beginning to scale the might fortifications. Swordsmen and dwarves stood shoulder to shoulder, their blades clashing against the demonic onslaught. With unwavering resolve, they fended off the climbing demons, their movements swift and precise, cleaving through twisted flesh and bone. The clang of steel echoed throughout the battlefield as they pushed back the infernal invaders, their hearts aflame with the desire to protect their homeland.
The elven bowmen, masters of archery, never faltered in their deadly accuracy. Arrows soared through the air, finding their targets with unparalleled precision. Each well-placed shot brought down a demon, piercing their demonic hides or finding the gaps in their armor. The twang of bowstrings harmonized with the screams of the fallen, creating a symphony of defiance against the encroaching darkness.
In the midst of the chaos, Anderson emerged as a formidable force, his elven sword a blur of swift strikes and parries. With skill honed through countless battles, he danced through the ranks of demons, carving a path of devastation. His strikes were most lethal, each swing slaying multiple adversaries. The demons quivered in fear at the mere sight of him, their vile forms shattering under the weight of his strikes.
The first wave of demons had been vanquished; their lifeless bodies scattered across the scarred battlefield. The towering walls stood defiantly, their sturdiness a testament to the resilience of the defenders. The proximity towers, though marred by the conflict, remained standing, ready to unleash their deadly arsenal once more. The air was heavy with the acrid stench of demonic blood, mingling with the smoldering remnants of hellfire.
Amidst the aftermath, the sudden deafening silence now present engulfed the battlefield, broken only by the faint groans of the wounded and the distant crackling of burning embers. Grismala, turned to face her remaining troops, her gaze resolute despite the heavy toll the battle had exacted. Her voice carried with pride as she prepared to rally her forces for what lay ahead.
"These partly foes shall NEVER take Tasildor!" Grismala shouted into the air, the winds pacing around her as she addressed her troops. "Together we stand! Together we fight! And TOGETHER we stand victorious atop a thousand demons!"
The voices of the soldiers run in the air with cheer. The demons had taken a far greater loss than they had. This was a decisive blow to the demon ranks, yet tens of thousands still loomed over the horizon.
A diabolical chant reverberated through the skies, its sinister words carrying the essence of the great Demon God's decree. As the words echoed across the battlements, Alpos and Vorner stood with bated breath, their anticipation palpable. Grismala, however, felt a chilling shiver crawl up her spine, a primal instinct warning her of the malevolence hidden within the tongue of evil. It was a language reserved for the depths of true malevolence, a dark invocation that resonated with the very essence of evil.
As the battlefield quivered with anticipation, a deafening silence fell like a shroud over the land. Suddenly, the very fabric of reality seemed to tear apart, revealing a rift to the very depths of hell itself. From this abyssal tear, the Demon God emerged, his form a grotesque amalgamation of nightmare and despair.
His towering figure loomed over the battlefield like a colossus of chaos, eclipsing the sun with his sheer malevolence. Each step sent shockwaves rippling through the earth, cracking stone and rending steel asunder. His presence was suffocating, a palpable miasma of dread that hung heavy in the air, choking the life from all who dared to draw breath in his presence.
Clad in the shroud of darkness, he seemed to embody the very essence of evil itself. The black flames of hell swirled around him, whispering secrets of destruction and despair. His demonic wings, a symbol of his demonic domination, cast an ominous shadow over the land, as if heralding the coming of darkness. His formidable armor that exuded a dark, chaotic, otherworldly energy, made him appear as an indomitable force, rendering any resistance futile. Dark energies crackled and seethed around him, coalescing into tendrils of shadow that writhed and danced in the air like living serpents.
His face, if it could be called such, was a visage of pure terror, with an enormous eye that burned like am inferno, it's gaze piercing through the very soul of any who dared to meet his stare. His twisted form and aura of pure evil sent shivers down the spines of even the bravest warriors.
But it was his voice that struck the deepest chord of fear in the hearts of all who beheld him. It was a voice that echoed with the weight of true authority, a voice that spoke of untold suffering and unending torment. It was a voice that promised oblivion to all who dared to oppose him.
With a thunderous voice that echoed across the battlefield, the Demon God spoke, his words resonating with dark power. "Behold, mortals! The end is nigh, and none shall stand against my reign! Kneel before me and I shall grant you death!"
As he strode onto the battlefield, his minions bowed before him, their eyes filled with reverence and terror. With the blade of darkness in his hand, he wielded a weapon of unparalleled malevolence. The very essence of the great Demon God coursed through the weapon, empowering it with destructive might. Its edges seemed to flicker with the essence of shadows, ready to unleash untold devastation upon those who dared to oppose him.
From a distance, Grismala's gaze was drawn to the demonic figure entering the battlefield. A profound sense of foreboding washed over her as she beheld the malevolent presence emanating from the colossal demon. His eye glimmered with a dark, twisted malice that mirrored the very essence of the Demon God she had confronted before. He stood as the embodiment of all that was abhorrent and wicked.
Even the demons, who reveled in their ferocity, now quivered in fear, their ranks parting to create a wide berth around their master. Alpos, the formidable right-hand of the Demon God, lowered himself in deference to his master.
With an air of sinister authority, the Demon God turned his piercing gaze towards the city before him. Alpos and Vorner, his loyal companions, stood at his side, unwavering in their allegiance, awaiting the impending doom their master was about to call forth.