Updated Wed, Sep 10, 2008 by Taea
All across the Greywind Shoals, a
great battle raged. Legions of Dark Elf Warrior loyal to House Uthorin
spilled forth from the gaping maw of their huge Black Ark and charged
up the beaches to attack the defensive positions of the enemy. Other
Black Arks had crashed into the coastline as well, and were now
disgorging their legions of grim-faced warriors. The roaring of huge
beasts of war filled the air. The Beastmasters led their Manticores,
Hydras and Cold Ones into position to support the attack while the
leathery wings of huge Black Dragons beat the air above.
The exiled kin of Ulthuan had
returned, and with a mighty vengeance.
Rushing to meet the invaders was the Shining Guard, Prince Tyrion's army of elite warriors chosen to remain behind and protect the homeland of the High Elves while the High King sailed to the Old World to aid the Empire in its hour of need. Though Tyrion had expected that an invasion might be possible, the sheer magnitude of the Dark Elves' attack made victory seem hopeless.
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Master Kaltarn, one of Lord
Uthorin's most seasoned warriors, had been entrusted with a regiment of
inexperienced soldiers. It was his appointed task to prepare the
young Dark Elves for a life of service in the army of House Uthorin,
and he executed that duty without remorse or pity. First, he would
throw the recruits into combat, then he would train those few who
survived. After all, reasoned the Master at Arms, only those who
survived would be strong enough to be worth training.
"Forward, vermin. Prove
yourselves worthy to fight in the name of Lord Uthorin, or my sword
will pierce your heart!" Master Kaltarn watched as his newly-trained
recruits rushed forward to meet their blood enemies in battle. One,
then another of his recruits fell. One of the Dark Elf recruits,
bloodied and bruised, limped back to Master Kaltarn, clutching at a
gaping sword-wound in his chest.
"Master, they are too strong!"
said the initiate, coughing up blood as he spoke.
Kaltar's eyes narrowed and he
shouted at the injured soldier. "You disgust me, weakling. Your family
will carry the stain of your dishonor for all time!" The other recruits
spared a glance over their shoulders as Master Kaltarn drew his sword
and ran the young soldier through the chest.
"Master Kaltarn! New orders from
Lord Uthorin himself!"
Kaltarn turned to see a messenger
approach and hold out a parchment sealed with Lord Uthorin's signet.
Kaltarn read the orders, then read them again, his eyes wide with
disbelief.
"Break off the attack!" cried the
trainer to his recruits. "Prepare to march southward!"
The young warriors regrouped
before their leader. It was not their place to question his orders, but
he could see the same question in their eyes: why? The battle had been
going well for the Dark Elves. Victory might be within their grasp.
Kaltarn had no answer for them.
Clearly Lord Uthorin had some other purpose in mind for soldiers, but
only time would tell what it was.
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