"Hello!?" hollered a dusty elf in a green tunic who was rushing into a beautiful temple. It was a clear day in the kingdom of Tirnym. "Yes? What is it Linteur?" asked a white-robed elf, obviously the leader of the church. "There has been a report of army of black-cloaked people attacking the local territories. They have great craftsmanship and weapons, not seen since the days of The Banishment. We captured one, and," Linteur gulped, "it was a Drow."
"They have returned. They have taken down a outpost by Tirnwood, and are approaching Lakeside Village." "We must warn the followers of Aluwen." He began writing a letter, and then enveloped it. "Here," he gave the envelope to Linteur. "Take this to the temple in Morcavern Marsh, but before that, the queen." Linteur bolted from the temple, saddled his horse, mounted, and sped away like the wind...
A horse galloped through the open gate of the castle of the Queen of Tirnym. Some guards halted the horse as it slowed to a trot. "What is your business?" asked one. The rider of the horse, Linteur, answered, "I have a letter for the Queen from Jurndar, the head from the temple in Tirnym."
"Ok, you may pass." answered the guard who moved aside. Linteur lept of his horse as he stopped at the palace doors. He opened them and walked down the red carpet in Her Majesty's throne room. "Your Majesty!"
"Yes?" answered a beautiful, pale, white-haired, silver-robed elf with a silver circlet on her head. "I bring terrible news from the north. The Drow have returned."
"Oh my!" The silver goblet the Queen had been holding was dropped to the floor, blood-red wine spilling. She didn't even notice it as she listened attentively to what Linteur had to say next. "They have been attacking the forest-town of Tirnwood Vale and are approaching Tirnym and the Marshes in the west."
"Oh my! I'm glad you came to me first." Linteur approached her, kneeled, and handed her the envelope. She opened it and glanced at the letter. "Well, I'll send my fastest courier to deliver the message." She then whistled a sweet, enchanting tune. Then, an eagle swooped in from a sky-light above. It took the message in it's talons and bowed to the Queen. "Take this to the temple in the Marshes." It nodded and took off from which it came. "Now, we prepare..."
The warriors strung their bows and sharpened their swords. They shined and polished their armor, and prayed Aluwen for protection in battle, and Glydoc for strength and courage. The mages, wizards, witches and warlocks practiced their spells, memorized their incantations, and prepared their essences. The alchemists and craftsmen were busy making armor and weapons, producing bars and essences, and enchanting rings and medallions. The entire kingdom was preparing for war. Even the sky's mood had changed. The once clear sky had darkened, and there was that calm that always signaled the coming of the storm...
The army marched to the gates into Tirnym. They raised their swords. They prayed their blessings. They were ready for war. Then, they saw the enemy. An army of black-armored warriors. They bore weapons of a fashion not seen since a long time ago, when the world was in chaos. Each one had the Beast of Shattered Dreams on their armor. They were dark-grey to black skinned, and had silver to white hair. They were menacing, foul, and ready for combat. Lightning struck. A dove and raven flew overhead. And as they stuck each other, so did the two armies...
"Yaaah!" The only thing that could be heard was the sound of swords clashing, armor breaking, spells howling through the air, war cries, and the booming thunder. The foes were evenly matched, but the drow had the elves outnumbered. The elven bows and swords killed each other, one by one. The cries of fallen warriors echoed through the battlefield. The drow were winning. The elves were failing. The battle seemed to be lost. Then, there was a break in the clouds. Moonlight shone down on the battlefield. Then, came an incantation, in a sweet, calm, and cold voice, from seemingly nowhere. It echoed from the earth, from the sea, from the mountains, from the sky.
By the sea and by the sky,
of the darkness and the light,
thy will shalt be grinded,
and from the shadows from which thy came,
thy shalt again be binded.
The moment it began the fighting stopped. The air was still. Then, a giant chasm appeared underneath the drow, and they fell, disappearing into the dark abyss from whence they came. Then, the chasm closed...
The battle was over. The elves had triumphed. Now, to this very day, the elves celebrate this as a holiday for the victory against the cleverest, smartest, and swiftest servants of Mortos, and as a memorial to the warriors who lost their lives protecting Seridia.
Edited by Dark_Nightmare, 08 November 2005 - 05:46 AM.