What future do you want?
* Captain Buzz
1 Minute Earlier (Highgarden Time) - Cyan - The Mire
The portal drops the gnomic exiles in a dark, misty field full of shimmering lights. Around and above us, fierce battle rages, but we seem to be in a calm spot. Most of the gnomes managed the jump, including the children, which is annoying because they were told to stay behind. A few hundred Lighthome and Lowgarden gnomes eye the battles, and mill around uncertainly.
“What’s the plan?” asks Oak.
“Why do we need a plan?” asks Maple. “Wait, do we have objectives? I thought we came here because we’d given up?”
“We head to the Beacon.” I say.
Oak gives me a sharpish look. “Is that the whole plan? Or step one of a bigger plan?”
“Both.”
Oak sighs. “At least there’s no one around. Maybe we can sneak by the battles.”
A dark elf suddenly appears. He has an arrow through his skull. He disappears.
“Huh.”
A light elf pops in with an arrow through his chest. Fades out.
The gnomic advance slows as we look around warily. The field still looks empty, except for the occasional punctured elf passing through on his way to the afterlife. I get the feeling there’s more people here than we can see. The transitional carnage slowly speeds up. Like a popcorn cooker of doom.
“What do we do?”
“What can we do? Head for the Beacon!”
We take off at a fast jog. Some of the lads turn into wolves and scoop up our slower movers. Some turn because they are slow movers. The whole group gets faster with each transformation, until we’re running hell for leather. But the faster we run, the more elves die around us. Surrounding us like a gore-nado of ancient resentment.
“Man, this is awkward.” pants Maple. “If you’re gonna have a big family fight, don’t invite people over.”
“Why are they dying so close to us?” weases Oak. “Spread out, ya bastards.”
Stolen novel; please report.
“They’re using us for cover, or something.” I gasp. “We gotta get the fuck out of here before one side wins.”
The Silence jogs easily before us, unbothered by the carnage. She casually boots any slow dying elves out of our way.
Maple shakes his head. “These guys are brutal. Can you imagine hating someone this much? Oh hey, there’s a bunch of battle magi.”
The Silence and a pack of wolves peel off towards the Wreckworld forces.
“Stay together everybody!”
The rest of the gnomes tear after the wolf pack.
“That’s not what I meant!”
The wolves broadside the Wreckworld flank like a furry meteor. Gnomic fire and fangs carve an impressive hole Wrecker’s army, but there's not nearly enough of us. Behind the immediate panic and destruction, endless phalanxes are forming to wipe us out. Echelons of Praetorians circle, a black sun looms, distant lasers flare, and the invisible elvish slaughter has paused.
Not good.
Cato The Butcher raises his mace. He will conduct the symphony of our demise. Except he’s gone. Replaced by a cloud of blood and two loose, free falling, angelic wings. The Praetorians wheel in panic, firing lightning at the dark form zipping through their formations, but it’s no use. Their electric blasts simply lacquer his dark armor in an eye-watering nimbus, as he mists the slower moving angels one after the other.
It’s an objectively terrifying sight, but looks like hope to me.
Fuck ya - it’s Darkstar.
An octo-kin ports in next to me. “Hey boss, long time. A little bee told me that you needed some help. He also gave a fucking epic speech about choosing the future we want that made me realize I could totally get to Highgarden.
“So, what’s going on? What’s the plan? Get to the Beacon? Cool, cool, cool. Oh hey, you’ve got a mire of the mind going on. How quaint…”
Mindguy cracks all eight of his thumbs, and strikes a broad dramatic pose. A wave of psychic energy floods the field, painting the invisible armies of elves and faeries in a light pink glow. They react to their revelation by freezing in awkward poses. Perhaps stunned by surprise.
The portal behind Mindguy stretches to ridiculous proportions, revealing another army, this one composed of monstrous Helhome fighters.
“Alright boys, we need a path.” says Mindguy. “Show’em how we do it in Helhome.”
The monsters howl and swamp the battlefield, tearing through elves, magi, fairies, and angels. It’s super effective, but self defeating, as each defeated enemy quickly ports back in, with a fresh grudge and less judgment. Of course, our dead monsters port back just as quick,
It’s a goddamn death loop. Worst I’ve seen. Entire realms worth of people chucked through an ever accelerating cycle of rebirth and rage. Worse, more people keep coming. Clouds of bees and swarms of spiders. Gods, and giants, and dragons.
The huge trees are ablaze. The mountains fallen. The caves collapsed. The black hole covered under a frenzied layer of skeletons, straining to pull it apart. Entropy and nihilism trying to eat each other.
I can barely move. We strive to get to the Beacon, but so does everyone else. The Last Battle is getting compressed into a dense ball of ultra violence.
I’ve gotta stay alive. No memories can survive this. It will all be over soon and no one will remember why we even did it.
I push fireball after fireball in front of me. Wade through the destruction.
Gotta get to the Beacon…
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An entity known by many names ports into Highgarden and takes in the chaos with a happy grin.
“Oh hey, everyone’s gathered in one spot.”
He snags an elf who tries to stealth by him. Absorbs the power of their memories.
“How convenient.”