It was a cold autumn morning when General Farra’lais Dei Lley, a retired general summoned back to duty to salvage the dire situation at Silifran, stepped out of the border city with fire in his soul. Leading his Legazz into the valley south of the border city, he traversed an arid region located between feralis country and the ominous expanse known as the Dregadas. Here, they were met by a landscape of jagged rocks and sparse vegetation. Yet, undeterred by the harsh surroundings, they pressed forward, their moral unwavering. Nothing would divert their attention from their objective. Today, they aimed to deliver a decisive blow to the criminals plaguing the Elven Kingdom.
Haunted by the recent death of a second commander—killed by one of their own just half a day prior, his death shrouded in mystery and allusions of treason—this assault on the criminal leadership meant much for the elves. They could ill afford to sacrifice more of their own elves to these scum. The general muttered revenge with every breath he took. Every detail had been meticulously arranged for this moment and his troops shared his sentiment: vengeance. After expending countless resources and risking the lives of innumerable elves, in this nowhere land, they found themselves poised to spring their trap.
Bridled faces descended from the carriages, traversing the rocky paths that wound toward the ancient temple. Built by a race long vanished, the weathered structure suffered the ravages of time, its once-grand walls crumbling under the weight of oblivion. The lone sun illuminated the remaining rooms of the temple in this windy morning. Amid the hushed tranquility, the occasional cry of a bird of prey shattered the stillness.
From strategic vantages points, the Legazz scouts maintained a watchful eye over the temple, while the main forces lurked in the shadows, concealed by rocks and crevices, awaiting their moment.
In these ancient ruins, situated on neutral land near Fildereal and within the borders of the Elven Kingdom, dust clouds rose on the horizon as caravans galloped along the dusty roads, the wind stirring the earth into a swirling dance. Passing through hills overlooking a sunken plain, the occupants of the carriages armed to the teeth and draped in layers of armor, spells and weaponry, scanned their surroundings —every rock, every shadow—alert for any hint of ambush or aggression from rival factions converging upon the ruins below.
This tense gathering, borne from weeks' worth of efforts, stood to either herald a new era for the assembled criminal organizations or spell their demise, likely by their own hands.
The Valentians Scars, the Sae’gez, and the Saints navigated their way into the secluded enclave. Disembarking from their transports, their respective contingents stood beside their leaders, fiercely guarding the upper echelon of each faction. After carefully scrutinizing their rivals, they advanced toward the weathered gate of the ancient structure, its fallen columns remained as vestiges of its former glory.
“Look here... even the bitches came,” remarked Jordein, the human leader of the Saints, his gaze fixed on the vermaian leader of the Valentian Scars. His group, primarily human with a sprinkling of other races, stood alongside him.
The leader of the Valentian Scars, the ‘Notorious’ Heille, a vermaian and one of the last Pulkrata’s Daughter of this era, spat near Jordein’s feet, her face contorted with anger. “A filthy human dares to praise us?” Her lips curled into a broad smile, revealing her sharp, white, teeth against her gray skin. “We bitches stand before the likes of you. Human scum!” Her entourage rallied behind her, the top leaders of the Valentian Scars, all female vermaian, echoing her sentiment.
“Are you fucking, sucking or getting the hell inside? This wind is hard on my arm,” growled K’bula, the formidable leader of the Sae’gez, his towering presence overshadowing everyone else. The orange salamanyd remained unfazed, though a tinge of pain colored his words directed at his bickering peers. Four other salamanyds, slightly shorter yet equally imposing, trailed closely behind, accompanied by a diverse assortment of races.
The human leader cast a brief glance at K’bula’s missing left arm. “The twigs sure did a number on you.”
K’bula stopped and turned around, unwilling to let such a remark go unchallenged. “Elves? You wish. ‘Twas a fucking crazy dryad that chopped it off.”
Hielle, leader of the Valentian Scars, let out a mocking chuckle. “Sure it was, you orange freak. But one thing is true: those damned elves have been putting pressure on my folks.”
“It’s like they always know where and when to strike...,” uttered K’bula.
“In the HUF, we remain largely unaffected, but on this side of the border, we cannot take a single step without those bastards breathing down our necks” said Jordein, the leader of the Saints.
“My guess is one of you mammals is snitching... I’ll get to the bottom of this—and of you—whoever it is,” growled K’bula, his voiced laced with restrained aggression.
“You talking to me, reptile?” shot back Jordein, assuming a hostile stance as members of both groups tensed and took defensive positions.
“Hold your diminutive members in place,” interjected an exasperated Hielle. “We’re here because the newcomers—those that my sources say are not only surviving but thriving—summoned us.”
Gradually, tensions eased as both groups stood down.
“I don’t trust him. A fucking elf, can you believe that?” questioned Jordein.
“I don’t trust any of you,” retorted K’bula.
“Well, we’ll know soon enough what this is all about,” concluded Hielle.
With caution, they ventured into the ruins.
“Are you certain they’ve entered the ruins?” General Farra’lais inquired of his lieutenant.
“The scout just confirmed it. All the leaders are present. Though they didn’t bring large numbers, they’ve brought along escorts.”
“How many lessers in total?”
“Around thirty.”
“Including those already inside?”
“We’ve been here since midnight, and there’s been minimal activity within.”
General Farra’lais paused, his mind oscillating between anger and satisfaction. This time, they had all their targets within reach.
“Your orders, General?” prompted his lieutenant, breaking his reverie.
“We wait... just until they lower their guard. Instruct the scouts to remain hidden, and ready the rest of our forces. At my signal, we assault the ruins and finish them all.”
“Yes, General.”
The assembled forces consisted of ten Legazz and fifteen regular soldiers, all ready to sever the heads of the snakes biting at the Elven Kingdom. With this decisive strike, the general aimed to reduce these criminals to ashes and safeguard the elves from their scourge. Though he believed in the urgency of addressing the undesirables dwelling in the border cities, that would have to wait.
His well-prepared forces stood steadfast, particularly those hailing from the frozen plains, much like himself. These elves, accustomed to harsh conditions and steeped in a history of warfare against the northern threats—from monstrous creatures to the lowest of dregs—awaited the carnage. While the intelligence provided by Lord Jarailo had proven accurate thus far, a sliver of doubt lingered at the back of his mind. To assuage his apprehensions, he had requested at least thirty soldiers from the conventional armed force, but they could only spare half that number. The elven forces were already stretched, and leaving positions undefended seemed imprudent to the sage-leaders of the Elven Kingdom.
Meanwhile, inside the ruins, with their main forces stationed outside, the criminal leaders and their personal escorts walked through the decrepit structure. Shafts of light penetrated the dilapidated ceilings and breached the missing walls. At the end of a lengthy corridor, in a well-preserved chamber, sat a solitary creature on a rock—the very being who had summoned this gathering.
“Come in, all of you, don’t be shy,” beckoned the redheaded elf to the diverse assembly of races gathered before him.
After careful deliberation, the leaders entered the mostly intact chamber, its roof and three walls still standing while one wall lay in ruins. Seated upon a lengthy rock within awaited the leader of Del'vhario.
“Ekk’s, I presume?” inquired the ‘Notorious’ Heille.
“Indeed.”
“You look weak and sick,” remarked K’bula.
“Don’t we all? At least I still have my left arm,” retorted X.
Before K’bula could respond, the human leader stepped forward. “I don’t see any of your guys.”
“My token of good will: I am alone,” X informed his guests.
“Bad move,” grinned Jordein.
“There’s no ambush, no lies, only my sincerity,” asserted X.
“Heh... I’m not trusting a half-dying twiggy elf,” spat K’bula.
“Nor would I,” retorted X.
“Males, always beating around the bush...” Hielle stared at X. “Why the hell are we here? My time is precious.”
“Yeah, what the bitch said,” concurred K’bula.
X lowered himself from the weathered boulder and approached the leaders. “Times are changing, and those that fail to adapt to the new winds will wither and, in time... fade away.”
“Is this a threat?” Jordein’s demeanor turned grave, in his eyes shone a hint of bloodlust.
“No, but you can see it, can’t you?” X spoke with a certain cadence, calm and measured. “It’s evident all around you. Is business as usual? Is the flow of gold into your coffers unaffected? Are your ranks swelling? And then there are the elves... the General and his Legazz... uff. Those savage and cruel elves. I wonder where he found them.”
“Is this it?” interjected K’bula, already bored out of his mind.
“We, the Valentian Scars, have taken notice. And we also understand that what you poignantly detail is your and your group’s fault. The influx of new elves, your doing. The violence, the killing of not one, but two commanders, provoked them into unleashing these twiggy fucks on us! They raid our territories, and there in the middle of it all is your group. After annihilating the Lanaen Band, you not only took their place but are soaring, while we languish out in the open.”
As Hielle explained her point of view of their current situation, the other two leaders fell silent, pondering her words.
“So, you’re telling me, bitch, that by killing this diseased fuck, we’ll have room to breadth, to act?” asked K’bula.
“That’s one way of looking at it,” said X.
“We, the Saints, don’t care that much what happens in elven lands. Our primary focus lies in the HUF. But every time we step out of our borders... shit, it’s madness. And that does affect our expanding business.”
“Weaklings! Just plow through them!” exclaimed an exasperated K’bula.
“K’bula,” interjected X, “I know your Sae’gez mostly engage in banditry, so it’s understandable you think that way. But even I’m aware you have been hit here and there. And yet... don’t you want more? Luxury, armament, territory... the elves asphyxiating under your thick feet?”
The salamanyd simply stared at X, he didn’t need answer the obvious.
“We want to be left the fuck alone, especially by those twigs,” declared Jordein.
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“I think... what you’re proposing is an alliance,” mused the female vermaian leader.
“Ha... and alliance...” K’bula derided the notion.
“You, new guy, think we haven’t been here before? These beasts can’t be allied with,” rebuked Jordein, gesturing at the others present.
“Say that again, human!” shouted K’bula, getting ready for action.
“I offer you more than mere cooperation!” X’s voice boomed. “I offer you an empire, the mightiest criminal organization this decrepit world has ever known!”
Laughter reverberated through the ruins, most beings scoffing at the proclamation. ‘A criminal empire? This elf is not only weak but deluded as well’, crossed the mind of several.
“What the stories say about you... they’re true, you’re out of your fucking mind,” said Jordein.
“They say that?” asked X.
“And much more,” added K’bula.
“All true, I confess,” replied X.
“I say we deliver you to the elves and claim the bounty on your head,” spat K’bula.
“Were you born wrong? Or do you just lack the thought process necessary for high-level discourse?” retorted X.
“Huh? What did you—”
Without affording K’bula a moment to rationalize the insult, the redheaded elf pressed on. “Do you really believe the elves will reward you? And then, they’ll let you resume preying on caravans and selling your intoxicating substances without consequence? Party’s over, and there’s no going back to how it was before.”
“We all bear a target on our backs, courtesy to you,” remarked Hielle, one of the few who considered the redheaded elf’s words, each and every one of them. She understood that X harbored more beneath the surface than he revealed to others. He was the kind to cloak true intentions, to scheme, to act, and to achieve.
“You’re all welcome,” grinned X.
“Then... we are at an impasse,” declared Hielle.
The leaders and their followers eyed one another, tension rising, until a sudden noise and shouts interrupted their conversation.
Enough time had elapsed since the leaders convened. The general counted each passing instant, anticipating the moment to spring the trap. Shortly after noon, a scout returned.
“They’ve all entered, even the small contingents that had remained outside,” reported the scout.
“Had something occurred?” asked the General.
“No, they simply went inside.”
“Excellent, that makes our job easier,” the general stated before turning to his lieutenant. “Surround the ruins, and at my command, assail them. Spare none, show no mercy!”
With the stealth of a seasoned predator, the elves positioned themselves around the ruins. Though ancient, the structure sprawled across several rooms and halls—a temple to a long-forgotten god now destined to serve as the tomb for any unfortunate soul prancing within. Having awaited this moment for far too long, the elves stood poised, anticipating the strengthening gusts of wind, the awaited signal, and the massacre to begin.
Abruptly, a piercing sound, reminiscent of a bird’s cry, reverberated throughout the ruins. The Legazz and soldiers descended upon the ancient remains with ferocity, igniting a brutal battle. Del’vhario had prepared meticulously, armed to the teeth with the finest items their coffers could procure from elven, human, and the lands beyond. This marked their second retaliatory strike; the first, directed at the second commander, had depleted much of their precious dusts, today’s battle would consume most of their remaining gold. For Del’vhario, it was victory or becoming a mere blip in history. For X, however, it was the continuation of a goal, a mind and a spirit raging indomitable within him—eternal an unquenchable—be it in this life, or the last, or the next.
On every surface, blood adorned the rocks, every step through every corridor and chamber marked by the conflict fought to the death as countless members of Del’vhario succumbed to the grand magic and ferocious combat arts of the elves. Yet bit by bit, Del’vhario clawed back ground. The common elven soldiers, accustomed to warfare of a different nature, were among the first to meet their end. Even then, the Legazz, under the command of their general, rushed into the innermost sanctum, where the ancient altar still held sway.
Progressing through multiple chambers, leaving a trail of carnage in their wake while suffering their own losses, the elves remained fixated on only one objective: to eliminate, by any means necessary, the leaders of the criminal factions, with a particular focus on the treacherous redheaded elf.
After tense moments, the bloodied and injured Legazz forces breached the heart of the temple, their ears still ringing from the raging battle.
There, at the center, stood an ancient podium. Sprawled across the floor lay the leaders: a vermaian, a redheaded elf, a salamanyd, and a human, silent witness to the echoes of the savage fight unfolding within those sacred walls.
“What happened here?” yelled the general in elven. One Legazz answered screaming with a gut-wrenching scream of agony, a blade had torn through part of his skull.
As the Legazz fell, Del’vhario launched an onslaught from the shadows, assaulting their positions with magic, blades, and every weapon at their disposal. Amid the chaos, the criminal leaders rose to their feet and soon joined the fray.
“I’m tired of this shit,” declared the vermaian leader, removing her headdress. Her horns fell away, revealing a half-elf with her face painted gray, “I came for elves, and I’m getting mine!” Fylean shouted before plunging into the melee.
“What treachery is this?!” screamed the Legazz lieutenant, only to be met with violence in response.
“This is Del’vha’rio, fuckers!” roared the human masquerading as the Saints’ leader, drawing his sword and lunging at the nearest Legazz.
“Gnomes reign supreme!” shouted Mau from the roof, peering through a hole in the ceiling. He hurled explortents down upon the elves below.
Nila continued to unleash a barrage of blades from the shadows, while Kunia, the Lanaen Band’s former dogoon lieutenant, leaped from elf to elf, tearing into them with ferocious slashes and bites. The Legazz managed to regroup, preparing their counterattack even under constant siege. Acting as one, the elven forces fought on, facing heavy resistance. They soon noticed that some of these lessers wore high-quality elven derived armor, and wielded superior-grade elven spells and weapons, a few which were imbued with potent magic.
These elite members of Del’vhario, dedicated to combat and killing, had come well-equipped with the finest equipment gold could buy.
A brutal battle ensued, one that would later leave even X shaken. He had anticipated these elves fierce retaliation, but had never envisioned the extent of their savagery when backed into a corner and confronted head-on. Despite outnumbering the elven forces five to one, Del’vhario found themselves compelled to summon reinforcements. The redheaded elf’s directives remained clear: mobilize every veteran available and eradicate the elves. Around two hundred Del’vhario members fought in this death trap, encircling the elves like rodents with nowhere to go.
X wondered if their numbers would suffice, fervently hoping that they would, as he needed the remainder of Del’vhario’s forces elsewhere. In the end, only a third of those who had faced against the general and his Legazz would make it back. While these odds did not bode well for the future; for the present, there was only the thrill of the battle.
All four criminal leaders pivoted, three of them assuming defensive stances, their escorts mirrored the action, as a bloodied gnome appeared, dragging two bags soaked in red.
“Here are the things you asked for,” Nila thrust the bags toward their feet, leaving an ominous trail of fresh blood.
“Where’s Mau?” inquired X.
“Stuck up in clean-up duty,” the female gnome grinned.
“What is this!?” demanded Jordein.
“Our bargaining chip, of course. Did you think I’d come here without one?” retorted X, then turned to female gnome. “Nila, show them.”
Complying with the elf’s commands, the female gnome unfastened one of the bags and extracted the severed head within.
“Is that... the General?” Hielle’s voice trembled slightly as she spoke, despite the blood, she recognized the elf to whom the head belonged.
“Yes, indeed. This is General Farra’lais,” confirmed X, then pointed to the other bag. “Now, empty the second one, Nila.”
She obeyed, revealing a gruesome collection of long ears that spilled onto the red-stained floor. “And here lie fifty elven ears, from twenty-five elves, liquidated as our meeting began,” proclaimed X.
The criminal leaders exchanged glanced before looking at the redheaded elf.
“We accomplished this without your assistance, and we can do more. Much more,” remarked X with a faint smirk. “This a show of force, but also of reach. No one and nothing are beyond our grasp.”
“Is this a threat!?” yelled K’bula, his teeth ready to maul.
“I’m not here for your blood,” replied X, exhaling deeply.
“Then?” questioned Jordein.
“With this, the elves will come after all of us even harder!” interjected Hielle, the most scheming one of the three, and in this respect, the most similar to X.
X smiled wider than his face allowed. “Not after all of us... they’ll only come after your three criminal groups.”
“What the hell are you talking about?!” exclaimed Hielle.
X reached into his shoulder bag, producing four scrolls which he handed to the leaders, keeping the last one for himself. “Look at these parchments, these posters.” The leaders unrolled them as X began to read aloud. “The Valentian Scars, the Saints, and the Sae’gez claim responsibility for the death of General Farra’lais Dei Lley, in retaliation for the assaults suffered by these three groups under the General’s command. Should the Elven Kingdom persist in its persecution, this campaign of terror will extend to encompass every corner of the Elven Kingdom, all of it, particularly its heartlands. Signed, Hielle, Jordein, and K’bula.” X stared at the leaders. “Pretty, isn’t it? I took special care in the wording.”
“You!” shouted Jordein. As the initial shocked subsided, the leaders grappled with the implications—both real and imagined, and those they couldn’t even fathom.
“This elf, let’s kill, kill,” demanded K’bula.
Every sentient creature in this chamber braced for the imminent battle, save for Hielle, who motioned her forces to stand down.
“Wait, wait. This need not be what happens,” swiftly interjected X, aiming his words at soothing down the raging inferno inside the beasts before him. “I propose a different path, a path to create something bigger than any of us. Imagine a monster of an organization, a behemoth spanning entire regions. Together, we will push deep into the Elven Kingdom, but not only there. The humans are ripe for the taking, as are many other races. With our combined forces, our empire will begin today, now.”
K’bula’s laughter filled the ruins. “This twiggy fuck is really threatening us!” In his mind, a maelstrom of rage and an uncompromising debt to violence swirled unimpeded. In this, he was similar to X.
“And who do you think fed the elves information about you?” asked X.
As he observed the contorted visages of the criminal leaders—displaying a collection of terror, fury, and disbelief—X relished the moment. A consummate professional, he meticulously gauged his audience’s reactions, ready to adapt his strategy accordingly.
“It was you!” shouted Jordein.
“I fucking knew it!” exclaimed Hielle.
“I’ll kill—!”
K’bula lunged toward the elf, only to find himself halted in his tracks as a shadowy figure materialized on top of him, a dagger pressed against his throat. The salamanyd froze, and so did everyone else. The assassin orc had made his entrance.
“Heiran... I never doubted you,” said X, smiling at the orc.
“Heiran...,” the gathered forces whispered his name. The feared assassin of the Lanaen Band now served Del’vhario.
“Calmed down, big... whatever you are,” X said to K’bula.
The salamanyd growled but stood down as the orc melted back into the darkness. K’bula caressed his intact throat while looking around at the vanishing shadows.
“I’m trying to make a point here.” X’s exasperation had reached a new level. “Why do you think I could give the elves your information without repercussions? Think, creatures.”
“You...” whispered Hielle, her suspicion rising exponentially.
“Because I have a network of spies dispersed throughout the land. In your organizations, but most importantly in the Elven Kingdom. Right now, I have individuals working for me inside the center ring of Silifran, and if everything proceeds as planned... soon, I’ll have contacts in the inner solstice.”
“Lies!” shouted Jordein.
“Impossible,” muttered Hielle, though she had tried to do it herself and had spectacularly failed.
“I know it sounds like one of those stories about Del’vhario where everything seems impossible, and yet... here we are,” X continued. “I possess something that will seal the deal for you. I’m putting the finishing touches on a new product, one that will carve itself into this world and leave a scar deep in it and every sucker who consumes it. While it has yet to hit the streets, but once it does... oh, once it does...”
“I see shit. So, we just take you at your word?” asked Jordein, his distrust reflecting X’s own nature.
“For the time being... yes... But soon, I’ll send a box to each of you, free of charge. Test it, savor it, and then, if you’re interested, we’ll do business,” declared X.
“And you’d be the leader of this... empire of yours?” questioned Hielle.
“Think of it more like a cooperative,” countered X. “We’ll all be on the council, or something like that, as equals. We’ll make decisions together and share equal responsibility.”
“What if we just duke it out, and whoever lives, lives,” suggested K’bula, his eyes watching the shadows.
“K’bula!” One of his underlings burst into the room, breathless. “Outside... come outside!”
The salamanyd rushed out, followed by the other criminal leaders.
Upon emerging from the ruins, they were met with the sight of countless members of Del’vhario standing atop the surrounding hills, numbering in the hundreds.
“A thousand-strong force,” proclaimed X. “And this is not even the entirety of Del’vhario’s might. Some must remain behind to keep our business running, mustn’t they? So... we either part amicably, and you meditate my proposal, or we all die here. I trust my organization—if I die, someone will rise to take my place and carry on our vision. Do you trust yours?” grinned the devil before them. A slight exaggeration on their numbers, the strategically placed mannequins, and whatever other illusion Del’vhario managed to cobble together worked wonders on the feeble-minded.
“Why do you do this, when you’re an elf?” asked Hielle, the question she had for quite a long time, which only grew louder with each passing day, became almost unbearable today.
“What does that even mean? Am I not alive? Am I not a being of needs and wants? Of taking my rightful place in this world among you all? Among those who look down on us? To want to share what I have with others... for a price. Luxury, wealth, power—call it what you want, but you cannot deny its allure. And as with all things that shine, you want them on you, in you, illuminating everything you are, and you will ever be... Surrounded by those who understand that call but cannot heed it, by those who have it but don’t share it, by those like you who struggle and then one day get it and understand what was it all about. The greatest story ever told. The only one that matters. Ancient and powerful. The story of us.”