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Varis Kane, the Highborn Magus by Owen Sorenson


Varis clashed with his master, Siviis Glynn, the Archmage of the Sun. They threw bolts of shimmering fire at each almost as if they were having a snowball fight. The bolts singed at their robes, sending a sharp smell into their noses. Varis ran to a pillar of quartz capped in gold and hid behind it. Siviis shouted a word of power and a stream of fire flew from her hands, spewing liquid arcana that dissolved on the pristine floor, scorching it and leaving black marks. Varis cowered behind the pillar, trying to think of what spell to use next. Sun’s Wrath? Wall of Flame? Pyroblast? He didn’t know, nor could he think; the river of fire that was melting through his cover and it had started to make him panic. He was sweating heavily, the golden sun beating down upon him in the deep blue sea of the sky above.  

“Come on Varis! You can’t hide from your opponent, you must fight back!” Siviis shouted, making her point very clear.

Kalek Vashya Doom Un Soleil!” She chanted in a smooth voice, as if she was weaving the very words from a loom. Varis took a chance, peering around the pillar. Light was building up in the palm of the Archmage’s hand, almost sucking it out of the air. The light was blinding, brighter than the sun. It hurt Varis’s eyes just glancing in that direction. She raised her hand and the throbbing light flew from it, arcing at Varis, missing only by a hair. The pillar was burnt straight through, exploding as soon as the beam of sun magick struck it.

“Come on apprentice, you’re no fun,” Sviviis said, boredom weighing heavily in her voice. Varis took this moment as the time to strike. He stepped around the pillar, his fingers twitching, a rugged red-orange glow flickering in his hand. Heat emitted from his palm as he flung his arms in Siviis’s direction. Brilliant red-orange flames burst from Varis’s finger tips, singing the cuffs of his robes. Siviis dodged to the left, drew her sword from its scabbard and dropped into the Eldritch stance, readying a list of spells that would force her apprentice closer to his death.

“Well, how about that?” Siviis taunted, grinning wildly. She wanted to make him mad, if he got mad he wouldn’t be able to concentrate and use magic. “The little turtle came out of his shell? Well, it must be time to make stew.”

“Enough!” Varis shouted throwing a volley of fire bolts at his Master. The rain of fire harmlessly splashed off a barrier of light that Siviis had summoned with the flick of her wrist. Varis drew his own sword, felt its weight; light, but heavy enough to gain momentum. Varis twirled the blade which caused it to heat. The blade blurred as Varis spun it faster and faster. The blade turned white and emitted heatwaves. Varis was exhausted. He knew he couldn’t keep going for very long, sweat dripped from every pore in his body, his joints ached as if they all had been crushed by a warhammer. His arms were heavy; he could barely keep the sword spinning. Sweat streamed down his face and dripped from his brow. He must get it over with, the time to end it was now.

“This is no longer a game….. I hold this Flame Tongue with intent. I’m here to kill you. This will be your end,” Varis explained, heaving his chest as he took in hoarse, short-winded breaths.

“Come on Varis, I knew what you were here for. I mean you were my best student, it’s obvious that you would want my power as Archmage,” she replied, breathing heavily. A wicked grin stretched from cheek to cheek.

“That is why I’m having my fun. I know that you can’t beat me, that would be a one and a million chance,” she laughed. Varis furrowed his brow.

“So confident are you? I have grown, I am stronger now. I am your equal. The time for me to become better is now. I thank you for your lessons, but it is I who will teach the lesson this battle.” Varis taunted and threw a ball of brilliant fire at his master. Siviis barely dodged out of the way, yet the heat still grappled her in a hug of intense love, not wanting to let go. It gave life to a monster. The flames ate her robe and smoke bellowed off from it like a bonfire. Siviis wailed as the fire melted her flesh and boiled her blood. She fumbled for the button that held the robe together and tore the burning pile of silk from her body. Her beautiful ginger red hair was tainted with black that touched the end of the seared locks. Her body had turned a shade of pink that looked like a newborn child. Freckled around her arms were pieces of peeling flesh that revealed her bright pink under-skin and in other places burnt her all the way through, only leaving blackened scorch marks. Even her undershirt was singed.

“Y-y-you… will pay!” Siviis shouted as she leapt out him with all her force, flailing the sword about like a rabid animal. Varis parried the strike and swept his blade from below, catching her wrist. She screamed in pain, her hand severed at the contact.

Varis grinned. His first kill… It was wonderful!  “Tsk, tsk, tsk. First lesson, don’t let emotion control you. ‘You must learn keep your mind clear of all anger, fear and hatred. During combat it is life or death, and emotion will only muck it up and fog your mind. You won’t be able to think straight which will lead to you not being able to utilize magick, ultimately killing you.’ Don’t you remember that lesson? That was the first one you were taught.” Varis shouted, prying and playing at her emotions. He was obviously making a mockery of her.

Tears welled in Siviis’s green eyes. She knew it was the end, “N-no, no I don’t.”//

“Pitty, because I do. You beat me every time you struck me with a wooden arrow. If I was unable to stop an arrow with magic, then how was I going to stop a bolt of mana that was thrown at me?” Varis grinned wickedly. “So easy it was to kill you. I just had to withstand your initial fury, then you were out like a candle without a wike.” Varis laughed reminiscing in all the times that she had tortured him. Siviis sobbed.

“W-w-why are you trying to kill me? I have done nothing wrong. I n-never tortured you like you s-say. I taught you. You were m-my favorite! Please! Mercy! Mercy!” plead Siviis. She was grasping her now stump arm, weeping on her knees, yet Varis didn’t even seem to be listening.

“Shame, I liked you too,” Varis thrust the blade into Siviis’s chest. The white hot blade hissed as it slide into her chest like a hot knife cutting butter. Blood sizzled as it touched the blade. Siviis wailed and tried to grasp the blade with her arms in hope to hit something, anything. Varis grinned, he was enjoying this. His first milestone into taking the throne. “Soon,” He thought to himself, “Soon I will be High Magi.”

“Shhhh-shh-shh… No need to struggle. I have won. Good game my dearest,” Varis said in his silken smooth voice. His wrist jerked, twisting the blade, splattering boiling blood onto his pristine face and singed robe.

“Urghk…” Siviis said in her final breath. She spat blood onto Varis Kane’s boot and slumped over. Her eyes glazed, her body limp and motionless. Varis let go of the blade’s hilt and turned on his heels, walking away from the corpse.

He had made his point. He killed the Archmage of the Sun, his master, in cold blood. He left the body for someone to discover, his job was done. He wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand and dropped his robe. His undershirt was drenched in sweat. He laughed, a glint in his eyes. He made his way for the elegant towering building ahead of him. It was a pillar of blue quartz with stones that floated, slowly revolving around it.. It was the Spire of Nala’Shandra and it was where his next target resiede. He would make to the top. This was his mission. “Soon,” Varis thought to himself again, “Soon I will be Magi!”

  Present time:

Vin’dor Haxonor was a frail High Elf, his long, lanky body was always covered in deep velvet robes with runes inscribed along the trim. His face is thin, his lips almost like slits in his skull. His pale skin, which was almost transparent, gave him the appearance of a skeleton. Vin closed his frayed, leather bound book. The message still churning in his head. Magus Lithan called for a frontal assault on the great city of Trendo’ran. He had to tell Varis personally.

Vin served under Varis’s army, he was in fact a high magus. He controlled about a fourth of the army, using that fourth to utterly destroy his opponents. He was a masterful tactician, he had brought victory during many battles by using new tactics such as sword and spell offensive which uses an elite force of Sword-mages that fought in the front while sorcerers in the back send barrages of fire upon the enemy, destroying any cover that they may be hiding behind. Because of this, Vin’dor also knew what Varis was planning, what Varis was doing in his lab… Monsters… Creatures, whatever you wish to call them he was making them. He experimented on captured Wood Elves, twisting and changing their bodies. He made potions which mutated their physique and casted spells which burned and scarred them. Vin shuddered at the thought.

He pulled his hood over his head, covering his face from any observers who happened to look. He walked with a swift speed heading directly over to a tall, elegant spire made of a brilliant white stone and trimmed in ruby and gold.

Vin neared the spire and flicked his wrist which dissipated the blue energy that covered the archway. Vin walked into the spire, his eyes scanned the room and walked forward prudently. He turned sharply and climbed the spiraling stairs that lead up along the side of the spire. Vin gripped his elegant dagger that was attached to his belt. Suddenly, loud crashes emanated from upstairs. Vin stopped, his heart beating faster and faster, it felt almost as if it was going to burst out of his chest. He dared not to say a word, for someone, or something, was up there destroying Varis’s laboratory.

Vin went through many different spells, coming up with a few, remembering what words they used, and what slight gestures of the hands and fingers it took. He forced himself to become calm and focused. Vin felt a grin start to ripple on his face. He wasn’t afraid. He had been a wizard for as long as he could remember. Magic was the strongest tool of death in the world, and Vin possessed a wide range of colorful forms of murder.

Vin reached the top of the stairs, twisted and flicked his hand and wrist. A warm sensation spread across his palm. A glow that looked like a hearth had been lit shined from his palm. Strands of orange energy swirled around his arm, condensing in his hand, creating a flame so hot that Vin began to sweat heavily under his robes. He reached out with his shaking right arm and grabbed the gold ring, tugging on it. He grunted as the door was so heavy it took all of his strength. Fatigue had started to take claim of Vin. Holding a spell of such great power, it certainly took a lot of mental capacity.

Vin finally threw the door open and what was on the inside scared him half to death. Four… Things were in the inside. A stocky little humanoid laid on the ground, his back rising and falling in short, shallow breaths. Another humanoid creature loomed over it. It’s skin inky and black as the void. Its eyes were the color of blood and its hair was as silvery as the moon. Another one of these particular creatures coward in the corner. Raising its lanky frail arms over its face, trying to defend itself from something. The last thing was a blob of fat, it was secreting a yellow grease around him, blubber covered its eyes, and its mouth was a gap, pieces of fat stretched over the opening. It wheezed a long rugged breath and reached out with its arm throwing bits of blubber and a large amount of deleterious yellow liquid at Vin.


Something snapped in Vin. Terror can only build up so far. He raised his glowing hand and unleashed fire from a thousand suns. A cone of flame scorched the fat creating a stench that burned at his nose. Pops rippled as fat bubbles burst sending more yellow liquid spewing everywhere. The mass of fat sizzled and screamed. The inky humanoid ran through the door behind him, not caring about the… thing that was burning. The flames lessened until it came to a stop of orange red liquid dripping from his hand and fingers. The fat creature had been reduced to nothing but a scorched puddle.

Vin’dor gasped for breath, pulling his robes over his nose. The room was full of smoke and fumes from the burning husk of monster. He turned his head slightly, cringing as the smoke stung his eyes. The stocky beast was still there. He fumbled for his dagger, pulling it out but cut a long gash on his side first. The creature was, well, still alive. Vin hefted the creature and brought it out of the room. Carefully setting it down, making sure that the dagger was poised at it’s neck at all times.

“Vin! What have you done in my office!” Someone shouted up to Vin from the bottom of the spire. Vin swore under his breath.

“N-nothing sir… Just, uh, a fire was started in the room and… eh… I thought I should try and save at least one of them,”

An elegant, richly dressed High Elf climbed the stairs, his robes the color of raging fire flowed like water in the Green Sea around him. His face was pale, but not as much as Vin, his cheeks sat high upon his face, his eyes glowed a deep, velvet red and were set on his face perfectly. He had long orange flowing hair, part of it was tied in a loose knot, the other part drooped down his back. In his hand he was gripping a long metal staff that was glowing with orange energy. The head of the staff was shaped like a star, shimmering whenever the staff moved.

“I have told you, you mustn’t go in there,” Varis stated. His eyes widened when he saw the destruction of the inside.

“What have you done?! My Drow have fled! My Lamur is but a puddle!” He turned towards Vin, teeth clenched, his eyes suddenly seeming more of a deep crimson.

“With those creations we could have changed the world! The war could’ve ended!” His staff started to steam. Vin noticed in Varis’s other hand, a red mist was frothing in his palm.

“I was h-here to t-tell you that Magusl Lithan has declared a frontal attack on the elvish stronghold,” Vin’dor managed to get out, fear obvious in his voice. Many times has Vin crossed his master. He knew that Varis is quick to anger, and even easier to enrage.

“You will be sent,” Varis said calmly, anger fading abruptly, “It’s time that you see the front lines. Tell magus that I have sent you, and that you are able to give commands that overrule. I trust that you will crush the enemy. Don’t fail me,” Varis brought his hand up, the mist had turned from a smoky red to a deep purple. “I will expect you return with news of successes from your venture. Lital-vik-no-shan’dor,” He wove his hands in and out, flicking his fingers here and there causing a smoky trail behind them. A teleportation spell! Vin felt a sudden immense pain starting from his gut but it soon rolled over his entire body. His vision turned black, he withered in pain. Every bit of his body felt like it was being ripped apart. He screamed, but no noise was made. His head felt like it was melting, his eyes felt like they were exploding, his body becoming numb.

Suddenly, as fast as it came, the pain vanished, he regained vision but couldn’t move. His teeth chattered, making a noise that sounded like a skeleton shambling about. He was freezing, and laying in soft grass. With an effort he raised his head and looked around. To his right the trees thinned revealing large mountains that menaced all that lay below them. To his left the trees curled and wept as they grew dense. Smoke wafted in his nose and through the canopy of green above him he could see the black streak coming from somewhere that he thought was north-west. He could hear water rushing off behind him and made sure he remembered it for in the future it could become something of need.

Vin stood, leaning on a stick that he had found next to him for support. Slowly he walked towards the smoke, limping along the way. Hours passed until he finally came upon an encampment of what must’ve been seven-thousand soldiers. He was greeted by an Elf named Jaron Sunhawk.

“Ho traveler, I am Jaron of Sunhawk, born in northern Hox’dorn. Where do you come from?” The guard asked in a sincere voice, at least Vin couldn’t hear any arrogance. This guard was at the very least a good man.

“I am Vin’dor of the family Haxonor, born in the western city known as Shin. You may know me simply as Vin, Magus of War Magicks,” Vin responded, making sure he made it clear that the guard understood his ranking, almost raising his voice when he mentioned that he was a Magus.

“Vin? Sir, what are you doing so far from capitol? And what are you doing wandering the forests equipped with a tattered robe and… A stick?” Vin shook his head,

“Nothing you need to know or worry about, now take me to Magus Lithan, I wish to speak with him,”

Jaron lead Vin’dor through a maze of white and red tents, making almost random turns here and there, not exactly going in a certain direction. One moment they were heading west, the next north, then east and north yet again. The tents looked all the same, each simple, made of cloth dyed or bleached and inscribed with ruby runes which glew in the darkness that had been cast over the sky. Torches had been lit, they flicked their flames reaching for the moon, throwing a flickering light through the city of tents. Vin almost tripped over a few stumps that lay in wake of the temporary settlement the High Elves had made,

This used to be a forest,” Vin thought to himself. It was an odd thought. Something so lush and beautiful so easily torn down for something so futile…. War… Why did they wish to kill the Wood Elves in the first place? They were equal. They fought alongside each other during the great Dragon War did they not? They slew all of the shaman and creatures that were under the influence of the Claw. High elves took to the mountains and rode on the backs of the Dragons of the Wing where they launched volleys of flame down upon the Drakes. The Wood elves took to the land which they murdered the shaman. Was it then that the High Elves determined that they were savages and deserved nothing less than death?

“Sir? Are you okay?” Jaron was waving his hand in front of Vin, snapping his fingers even, “Is everything okay sir?

“Yes, everything is fine. Why have we stopped?” Vin replied.
“Well, we have made it to Magus Lithan’s tent,” He pointed to a tent that was double the length of any of the other one. It was deep crimson with shimmering gold runes inscribed around the trim. It was actually nice to look at…

Perfect for a Magus,” Vin thought to himself as he entered into it.

“Who goes there?” Asked an elf who was half asleep before he had entered and didn’t want to be bothered. The elf took a long draught out of a bottle that held a liquid that was purple. Wine, Vin thought to himself. The lantern in the room flickered, making shadows dance across the walls of the tent.

“I am Vin’dor, the Magus of War Magicks. I am in seek of clothes, a weapon and your mages under strict order Varis Kane the High Magus himself,” Vin explained to his lesser in an arrogant tone that only those that are a part of the High Elven culture use.

“Oh! Just-hic-give me a second to tidy the room sir,” Lithan said as he stood. His short red ponytail bobbed and swayed like an old pendulum.

“H-here is a-hic-robe that you can wear,” Vin took the robe from the drunk elf’s hand and unbuttoned his own revealing a sweaty under tunic. He immediately put on the fine silk robe that was the color of a deep, clean cut ruby.

“Oh, you’ll definitely want this, and maybe this,” A short sword that was covered in an elegant ivory scabbard and a staff that was a simple metal rod that was topped with a purple gemstone was handed over. Vin strapped the short sword to his leather belt and dropped his stick just in time to catch the metal staff that was thrown at him.

“Thank you,” Vin replied graciously.

“Oh and Lithan, sober up you drunkard. There is to be that battle you were asking for tomorrow at sunrise,” Said Vin’dor, shaking his head. He was ashamed of Lithan. Varis should have never made him a magus, he was a slob of an elf. Always drinking. Always partying. Shame, he was a poor lost soul in a world of only death.

Vin left the tent and found one that was empty. He moved his hand past the runes, causing them to glow brighter than before. The flaps then closed. He walked over to a simple blanket and a pillow made of hay that was covered in a thin layer of linen which held the hay together. He took off his robe, hung it, and lied down onto the cold dirt. His head was itchy from the hay and the blanket did little to keep him warm. The battle was getting to him. He was going to kill innocent elves. They were similar to him. He had forgotten what war was like, how it got to you, how you could only handle so much. He already had fought so much for Varis. This was no different than before. He stared at the low ceiling until he finally succumbed to sleep.


Vin’dor awoke with a sense of dread. The oncoming battle was not exciting to him. He left his tent after donning his robe and taking his staff. Vin gathered Lithan and his ten high mages and brought them to the middle of the camp where he told them their orders:

“Groups one through three, you are to take a front assault to front gates. You will use tactical formation of spell shield; also I shall be joining you. Groups four through seven you are to take the back route and flank the citadel, you will be using tactical formation sword and spell. Groups eight and nine you will be our auxiliary. You are to stay in the back until you are called upon, which then you go wherever you are needed. Group 10 you are to take to the sky. Mount the demigryphs and rain hellfire upon them. I trust that Lithan will be in that group and that he can give commands whilst flying. Today we show the Wood Elves the true power of the sun.”

Vin then took out his leather bound book and flipped to what seemed like a random page. Blue lines started to appear on the parchment, glowing brightly even in daylight. The page was showing a map of the citadel and four separate dots, each one was representing a group of wizards, sorcerers, spellslingers and battle mages,

“These are your locations. Get to them, group up into tactical order, and wait for my command. We shall communicate via the Arcane Word,” And with that Vin left, closing his leather book and tucked it into a pocket on the inside of his robes and stormed off. The crisp air biting his face and hands. He shuddered. The time of battle was now. Something he hasn’t participated in for sometime. He shook his head as to clear his thoughts.

He walked briskly over to where his groups were meeting. A horn blew a loud rippling below throughout the cold morning air. The thunder of a thousand feet soon drowned out any other noise. The troops had been woken and were gathering to the center of the tent maze to gather their orders with which they would soon march over to where their groups were meeting for battle..


The time was now. Vin’dor spoke aloud giving the command for the assault. The words appeared onto the parchment of the book, glowing blue just like before. On the map page the dots had started to move toward the center of the page. Towards the citadel. His own groups had started to move towards the citadel also. A slow march currently. At this rate it would take a long time before they actually got anything done.

“Faster! We must make it there before moonrise!” Vin shouted at the top of his lungs. He heard the same shout three times more, it was repeated by each group’s high mage.


After marching for what seemed like years, Vin’s army finally reached the towering walls of wood the was the citadel. As they got closer Vin realised how the walls almost seemed to meld into the forest. Vines wrapped around the walls made of bark like exposed veins. Lush green leaves grew from the top, giving the whole thing a perfect canopy of cover.

“NOW!” Vin shouted, the words booming. The words of power, a simple spell he had learned from a foolish bard who had passed through his home city during his apprenticeship years. He could feel the heat on his chest as the words burned themselves onto the paper. Soon the entire army would follow him. His brave sorcerers that took to the front all yelled out words of power summoning a bright orange-yellow barrier that flamed and flickered like the sun. The large squares of mages and wizards in the back started to launch volleys of fireballs at the gate.

A large beam of flame shot towards the gate, only for a small moment, and yet it was one of the most devastating spells their army was equipped with. It was shot from a horse drawn cannon. It had a telescoping barrel the was made of a white stone ringed in gold. The base looked like a chariot. It was shaped like a “U” and it’s wall gradually sloped down to the base of the cart. The walls of it were made of the same white stone, but reinforced with grey metal bars. Standing in the cart were two people. One of them was holding a telescope and the other was holding two rods. One of the rods was made of quartz and ivory with an ornate sun carved onto the cap. The other rod was made of ruby and gold with a red gemstone that was cut into the shape of a flame. Vin could only count three of them, and yet they were destroying the gates faster than any High Magus could do.

In only a few moments the elves had met their opposition. Arrows rained from the parapets that no one could actually make out because the were above the canopy of leaves. A storm of arrows struck the spell shield that had been created. Vin could smell smoke from the burning walls. Something else then filled his nose. Something more… earthy. Around the shield vines had risen and were thumping and slamming against their shields. Damn. Druids had been garrisoned here. He could see the shield start to gain cracks that spider webbed up and down the dome. Soon the shield would fall. It was okay though, the gates would soon fall also.

He heard shouting from above over the roar of the flames. He could almost barely hear the sounds of wings with it. Thank Varis, it’s the demigryph riders. He lobbed a ball of fire at the gate which exploded in a fury of deadly flame and looked up to see if he could get a glimpse of what was going on up there. As he did, green bodies started to fall out of the canopy landing forcefully onto the dome, increasing the entire damage to it. He could see them roll off and fall to their death. He turned away, an unease in his stomach had started to flourish. He quickly returned to throwing fireballs at the gate. Trying to ignore the falling corpses

Vin could hear something crack. It was slight at first, but then started to grow louder and louder. Finally, the dome could hold no longer against the punishment that it was taking. With a loud crackling sound the dome shattered into a million different fragments which dissolved as they fell slowly to the ground. The vines that the druids had summoned retracted into the ground. Something else crashed. More solid than the magic dome, like a tree falling after it had been recently chopped down by an ax. There was also a louder sizzle and the smell of smoke grew greater in Vin’s nose. The gate! It to had fallen! He glanced off to his right side only to see a stampede of bears each colored a different shade of green. To the other side was a group of Wood Elven warriors that were sprinting towards them.

“Forward men! The time to enter is now, that is if you don’t want to be mauled and shot through with arrows!” Vin’s army surged forward through the gate. Clashing of metal suddenly took dominance over the conflicting sounds of the battle. Screams and battle cries could also be heard as swordmages ran forward to protect the wizards and sorcerers in the back.

Vin’dor pushed his way to the front of the battle, taking his place next to a swordmage that was covered in green blood. He looked over at Vin with a wild eye, his sword twitching and shaking uncontrollably. Vin avoided making eye contact and pulled out his short sword, slinging his staff to a leather strap that was wrapped around his back. He quickly brought the sword up to deflect an opponent’s curve blade. Vin ducked to a crouch and thrust the blade upward skewing the Wood Elf in the stomach. Vin pulled the blade out with a quick motion and raised his hand at the elf that was about to take the fallen one’s place. A bolt of light launched from it finding a spot directly onto his chest. The Wood Elf flew backwards and crashed into one of his comrades.

Vin’dor could feel something. Something deep down in his chest. Something he hated feeling, and never wanted to feel it again. It was boiling and bubbling, trying to come free. Vin couldn’t suppress it. He fell into the zone, Vin could feel his will began to fail. It was rage, it was blood lust. It was the side Varis had forced into Vin at a young age during his apprenticeship. He ducked, slashed, struck, parried, and repeat, seldomly throwing a bolt of fire or launching a beam of light at an opponent. Vin moved forth taking life after life, not stopping to breath. The enemies formation broke and groups one, two and three ran forward killing anything that was green.

Vin finally began to become exhausted, his kill count rising to somewhere around forty. A young wood elf stood in front of him, his sword shaking in fear. Vin stood in a battle stance, left leg in front, left arm lowered and hand open. Right arm poised to thrust the blade down into someone, right leg bent at an angle ready to launch off the ground if needed. The Wood Elf made the first move, a wild downward sweep.

Easy,” Vin thought, “He must not have been trained properly, you never swing down when the enemy’s sword is also poised down.” In one motion Vin thrust the sword down into the poor elf’s chest and ducked off to the side, the sword missing him entirely. Blood splattered onto Vin’s robe, distracting him for a split second, just enough to launch an arrow at him. Vin was struck in the shoulder by a barbed arrow that went deep into the muscle.

“Ahhhhhh!” Vin shouted, his blood lust finally-and suddenly-sated. He sheathed the sword quickly and rolled out of the way, the arrow in his arm sending pings of sharp pain up and down his body. He snapped the shaft of the arrow off and threw it to the ground. He was bleeding profusely.

“Damn,” Vin’dor grunted through clenched teeth, “That isn’t good at all.” He took out the little leather bound book that was tucked into the pocket behind his robe and opened it to a random page. Blue letters burned into the parchment on the left page.

“Group One: We have broken through the gates. Minor losses, we continue to press forward.”

“Group Two: We have broken through the gates. Minor losses, we continue to press forward.”

Group Three: We have broken through the gates. Minor losses, we continue to press forward.”

Group Four: “Major losses, but we have pushed through.”

Group Five: Has yet to report anything.

Group Six: Group six has been lost.

Group Seven: “We have lost many, most of those ran from the battlefield. The remains continue to push forward with group four.”

Group Eight: “We have moved forward to reinforce the flanking front.”

Group Nine: “Waiting for orders, sir.”

Group Ten: “We continue to skirmish the remains of any druids or archers that we come across, open to new orders if needed.”

As Vin read this he grinned. The battle was going well but it wasn’t over. He would need help from Magus Lithan.

“Magus Lithan, I require your assistance. I need your riders to join in with my groups. We push for the throne room on my command.” Vin spoke aloud, bright blue letters burned and inscribed themselves onto the page of the leather bound book. He heard the gust of wind as the demigryph riders landed in the midst of combat to fight alongside normal infantry. It was an odd sight. Such big and majestic creatures next to just normal sorcerers and wizards was belittling.

Vin stepped out from the cover that he was hiding to greet Lithan.

“Are your men ready?” He asked, his arm still pinging with a sharp pain at every little movement. At least the bleeding had stopped.

“Of course they are,” Lithan replied, his lance shimmering a deep green in the light. He looked as if he just joined the battle despite his lance that was covered in blood.

“Than we march,” With this command his voice boomed. It was so loud that the opposite group of High Elves could hear the order. Vin’dor walked down the street heading towards the massive tree in the center of the battlefield. The throne room was carved in the tree itself, glowing with a yellow light that seemed almost inviting. The artwork that hand been carved into the handrail and outside tapestry was awe inspiring. A massive door was carved with the tellings of what looked like a Wood Elven hero who saved… children? Vin’dor shook his head. He was ashamed of himself and of his kind.  His group effortlessly slew the remaining defence that tried to hinder their way. At the entrance Vin held his hand high,

“Listen to me… I want no one else to enter. What is on the other side of that door is certain death, both the Archdruid and her most trusted followers will most likely be waiting for us to protect the princess. I only wish to capture the princess, but in wanting to do so I also must slay the druids.”

“No, you must allow me to enter with you. I too am magus, we must stick together and fight side by side,” replied Litan in a stern voice.

“Fine, but we enter now.” And with that Vin raised his hands and fire spewed forth from them. They scorched the door. The fire spread to surrounding parts and he could hear screams coming from the inside. Lithan had dismounted and also was helping. The door sent crisp embers that searched for a place untouched and tried to spread their beliefs like a missionary looking for a new city to spread his religion to. Smoke billowed into the sky and more screams could be heard from the inside.

The door finally collapsed leaving an entrance for the to magi. Five Wood Elves greeted them with swinging blades. Vin flung a dagger made of pure light into one of them which caused him to fall to his knees. Lithan dispatched the other with a simple parry sweep maneuver. Vin’dor charged a warrior that was standing in front of the princess and Lithan ran toward the Archmage who was off to the side.

Parry, sweep, thrust, block, dodge, this was a worthy opponent. He kept at it, swinging his blade and striking the man. He stabbed and slashed, but couldn’t land a hit. Thrust, overhead sweep, strike-thrust-sweep, parry-thrust, strike. The last strike brought both of the swordsman’s blades locked together. The were both sweating and tired, Vin’s arm still sending shock waves of pain into his body repeatedly. The wood elf had been cut across the face and was bleeding from the slight wound.

“I’m sorry,” Vin whispered, “I thought you should at least know, my name is Vin’dor. I wish things could’ve been different.” Heat started to build up into Vin’s hand. He could smell the smoke, it smelled like boiling and burnt blood. He was tapping into his very life essence to cast this last spell. He had exhausted his normal spell capacity and was forced to use something he didn’t like to do.

“You were an excellent swordsma-”

“NOOOOOO!” The princess screamed preicing the air. Vin was suddenly felt an excruciating pain shoot all the way through his torso. The spell went off and sent a spike of red flame into the other swordsman’s chest, burning straight through. He collapsed to the ground. Vin quickly looked down to see what was causing so much pain, he realized his vision was starting to become a bit foggy. Something poked from his gut. It was glinting in the light created by the fire, and yet it was crimson red. His vision was blurring now. It took him another second to realize what happened. He was stabbed by the princess. He reached for his book and pulled it out with a shaky hand. It was covered and stained in blood. He fumbled with the pages, and spoke in a raspy voice,

“Damn you Varis I knew you would send me to my death. I w-wish for this to s-stop. Don’t continue to w-wage this war.” The book fell from his hand and splattered red all over the floor of an elegant Wood Elven throne room. Vin fell to his back, the dagger pushing in more which made him yell in pain. He looked over to the Wood Elf princess was weeping next to him. A tear fell from his own eye.

“Don’t blame yourself, child, you did what needed to be done.” He brushed the hair from her eyes, “R-run now child, y-you must save your k-kin.” Vin’dor’s eyes glazed over, and his arm went limp. The princess ran from the pyre that had took the throne room.

Lithan slew the Archdruid with one last slash from his greatsword and ran to Vin. He picked up his bled through book and tucked it into his own pocket. He then picked up the Vin’s body and left the throne room. It had started to rain. The fire sizzled and hissed as the rain and fire fought their own battle. He was tired of this war. So were the rest of the elves. It was time they told Varis Kane about it.

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