Excerpt from the journal of Draxus Ultimax: Drums of War
I examined my blade, looking long at its perfect edge, and thought about how it would need to be used with such skill in the hours ahead. I listened well and even within the darkened landscape of the waste did I hear the voice of Gaia quietly warning me of the night we were about to face, of the vast army of Demonkind, walking across the shadowy sand.
Drums of war had begun to reach our ears from the cliffs of the Wastes, the Demon army had begun its march upon us. We fortified a stand, and bettered our own defensive position between the crumbling cliffs between the camp and the shadowdunes to give us some cover from the beasts that should attack us from the skies, black and clouded as they are.
I stroked the neck of Gzalmash, my steed reassuringly for he looked nervous a moment and knew that what my ears had heard, so had his keen dragon senses likewise made him aware.
He growled at the noise in the distance and spoke to me, "Draxus Ultimax, should I become wounded, or unable to fight, promise me one thing and one thing only," he continued on with eyes aflame, "You must keep on fighting no matter what happens, these men, halflings dwarves and elves need you and we must all fight to the last no matter what. Should I fall, fear not, for I will have died a mighty death, and my kin await me in Valhalla, for the only way to enter the hall, is through a gaping wound and I will have died well. May the light be with you, Sir Draxus Ultimax."
I replied back to him and bowed low, "I am honored to fight with you Gzalmash, May Andarus guide you."
I mounted the saddle and sheathed my sword, I drew a long lance as the weapon of choice and grabbed the shield presented to me by Andarus, hoping that its magic would protect me against the heat and acid I was surely going to face against our foes.
The men upon the line looked nervous and began to ready their weapons, the ballistas were stocked and the catapaults were ready, a thousand fold arrows lined in front of the elven archers ready to be loosed upon the night sky. Every man, elf, dwarf and halfling drew out their blades at that moment and readied for battle.
Beside me, Kynonnen donned his helmet, drew his sword, a magnificent elven blade that lit the front lines of the battlefield with its light. Holding it aloft he began to shout at the remnant of the four races, "Be ready lads!! They come!!"
The spots of red advancing in the darkness were now visible. The drums shook the ground, as the trumpets of war rang across the valley, accompanied by a cacophony of clanking metal.
The fight had begun.
D.
