The War of Middengeard (Mature, IC)

The continent of Middengeard is divided into four vast nations; the humans of rivendire to the lush forests of the west, the dwarves in their mountain stronghold to the north in Mithmoir, the orcs to the southern swamps of Hexcar, and finally the deserts of Vellond, home to the dark elves.

On the border of Vellond sat Ravendarrow. It was a small prosperous town with a military garrison to the west of it, over seen by Captain Kelmoreth Del'duis, one of the most famous rangers of the dark elves. Wicked with a bow, but even deadlier with his scimitars, he was a local hero of Ravendarrow.

But, even heroes sometimes are demonified by their acions in war...

Kelmoreth smiled happily as he leaned back in a seat within the garrison, polishing Spectre, with Wraithkiss laying on a table restingo n its side. The red bladed scimitar glowed softly with its magic that lay within the strange forged blade. He wasn't sure what the blade was forged with, having found it in the lair of a lich.

Spectre, however was forged from the purest mithral, with a diamond edge. Wraithkiss needed no polishing, for the blade never dulled. Spectre also needed no polishing, but Kelmoreth felt the need to polish the blades nonetheless. It gave his hands something to focus upon. Leaning forward, he inspected the blade with satisfaction.

"Captain!,"came a call down the corridor. Lifting his eyes, Kelmoreth smiled at the approaching soldier, who bore the grim expression common amongst their race. The soldier frowned as he stood before Kelmoreth and saluted.

"Go on," said Kelmoreth after a moment.

"There has been reports of movement by the humans to the west," said the soldier. "And not just a few scouts. There are reports of a large force, nearly a hundred strong."

Kelmoreth blinked at the man, confused. There hadn't been a force that strong since the days of his youth. Standing calmly, he smirked and turned to Wraithkiss, picking it up by the hilt, forged into the likeness of a bone, while the crossguard had been crafted into a horned demon head, the horns curving up, only to curve down towards the gem set pommel. Sliding the blade into its scabbard, he picked up the jewel encrusted hilt of Spectre, sliding it into the scabbard that it had called home for nearly a century.

Resting his forearms, covered by the embroidered masterwork leather armor he wore, Kelmoreth smiled and looked up with a fire in his lavender eyes as he said, "Gather the troops. We march."

Some hours later...

It had been some tendays since they had left Rivendire. The King had personally sanctioned this misson, wanting blood for the loss of one of his villages. The humans of Rivendire had placed the blame squarely on the dark elves of Vellond, and they were to carry out the King's justice.

They marched through the dark of night, pulling their cloaks tightly about them as the cold desert night placed a chill on them that they did not know within the safe forests of Rivendire. The leader of the group, a tall man with a great warhammer strapped to his back, looked about with cool blue eyes, setting them on his troops every few minutes to ensure that they still marched and not a man was left behind. Marching through the sandy desert, they found that their morale was quickly dropping and jumped at the shadows that constantly played about them in the darkness, with the moon hanging low in the sky.

"Up ahead, sir! An oasis!," cried one of his scouts. The man smiled and nodded, and the men broke rank, charging for the oasis with glee in their faces and hearts set on drinking and camping for the rest of the night.

Late into the night, many of the men lay sleeping, with guards set at regular intervals. All but the great, iron clad captain of the unit. Rupert was his name, and the giant of a man had been alert for far too many hours to sleep now. But from the trees of the oasis, eyes watched the man and the rest of his troops...

A guard felt a sting in his neck, and turned around quickly to face whatever it was that had bit him, slapping his neck in the process. Wincing in pain, his fingers came across something small and shaft like sticking from his neck. He didn't even realize he was dropping to his knees a moment later as he pulled the black feathered arrow out of his neck, staring at the shaft with widening eyes. He fell then, falling into blackness, but he didn't feel the ground rush up to meet him. It never came to meet him...

The first cries of a guard came many moments later, crying out to alert the rest of the unit that one of their companions was dead. Not even half the camp roused as they stood, blinking as they looked around. Many of the men tried to rouse their sleeping companions, but try as they might, they would not rouse from their sleep. One made the discovery a moment later when he rolled his brother onto his back and noted the slash across his throat.

"Murdered!," he shouted, before an arrow thumped into his chest, the shaft quivering mightily as he looked down at it in his fall backwards. From all around the men, figures sprang up out of the sand, wearing dark cowls and even darker armor. Curved blades flashed and cut through the men quickly, and out from the trees came a single figure, wearing no cowl but dark leather, ridged embroidered armor set with decorations of trees. He came down onto captain Rupert, scimitars flashing, one a shining silver, while the other glowed a devious red.

Rupert brought his warmhammer up to intercept the falling dark elf, but the nimble Kelmoreth landed on the hammer's head and rode its momentum around, leaping off with a flip and dropping his cloak across Rupert's face. The man shouted and yanked the cloak from his face, turning to face his opponent, but instead found three more dark elves waiting for him. He smashed his hammer into the side of one of them, blasting the breath from him and breaking numerous ribs. The other two dark elves dashed forward and stabbed at the man, but he easily knocked aside their blows, bringing his hammer up to bring it crashing down on another head. His hammer never fell though, as two blades pierced his back and exited his chest. One was the purest of silvers... and the other red, glowing fiercely as it drank in his soul.

The other humans, already discouraged from the long march and the death of so many of their companions, lost what little heart they had left for fighting and threw down their arms, falling to their hands and knees before their dark elven opponents.

Kelmoreth withdrew his blades and looked to the remaining humans, a fire still glowing in his fierce lavender eyes. He nodded to his men, and they began to gather up the new found prisoners, binding their hands with rope.

Once they had returned to the garrison, Kelmoreth had interrogated one of the soldiers, who spat at his feet as he entered. "What purpose do you have in Vellond, human?," he had asked with a calm face.

"You killed my brothers in arms! I will tell you nothing," replied the human. "But know this! We are but the first in a vast ocean that shall sweep Vellond away."


Kelmoreth walked through the corridors of the garrison, frowning softly as he thought about what the soldier had told him. They were to be all executed at dawn for violating the peace treaty that had held since Kelmoreth was but a child. Resting his hands on the hilts of his scimitars, he frowned as he looked up to the ceiling, wishing he could see the stars from the safety within the walls of the garrison.

"Captain! A report has just come from the Queen."

Kelmoreth shifted his eyes and smiled to the young soldier that carried the letter, and nodded to her lightly, eyes roaming over her for a moment. The woman blushed and looked away at the roaming eyes of the ranger, quite used to the tales that had surrounded the captain involving his ways with women. Kelmoreth just smiled and looked to the letter... before his jaw dropped.

"The Queen has declared war..."

As things could not get worse for Lady McKenneth, she was denied the title of Captain because she was a woman. She had worked long and hard to gain this title. She proved her worth as an archer and soldier. So what could be going through the general's head. Even if she commanded her own small regiment of archers and a few healers, they denied her access to the mages. With her knowledge of their magic they would have come in handy. Grievance was not on her route today. Having separated from main group she had been with she was sent to lead these men as vice captain through the dark thickets of the forest. She and her second in command, and the healers had horses.

It was a long road and she could feel her men were growing tired from the long journey from the Kingdom of Rivendire, their home. She knew these men well because she had trained with them from childhood. A few she had even managed to teach because of her unbelievable skill with the bow and arrows. She advantage being her blessed elemental arrows. Ones that shot ice or burned with fire. She watched the sky through the trees as the evening came upon them. Anything could happen in the forest and she reminded her archers to be alert and protect the healers, since they could not properly defend themselves.

Her horse was uneasy as they moved through the woods. Its black mane moved on its elegant dark wood brown skin because of a soft breeze. The forest was eerie as the sun slipped. Lillian breathed out calmly.

'Indeed a dark day...I guess things will change for the worst. I do not believe this battle but our king speaks I follow,' she thought.

Her men were growing restless as she led them into a clearing big enough for them to have a short rest. She pulled on the stallion's reigns and it released a whiny as it slowed its pace.

"Men! We make camp here!" She said to them. Her voice was strong and commanding. "Rodrick! Jordon! McKail you three will keep watch," she ordered.

She got off her horse's back and tied it with its four companions near lush looking grass so they could feed. She surveyed the open area and relaxed. It felt pretty safe, but three keeping watch would say otherwise. Her eyes fell on the healer two women, one middle aged with red hair and the other young with long blond hair and light green eyes. They were helping a few men gather wood for fire. She noticed the oldest and wisest healer, an elderly man sitting by his horse on the ground reading a small book. She wondered what a man of healing ability would be reading in a war camp. It made her chuckle.

Lillian found herself putting her bow and arrows near her as she seated on a fallen log. She could see everything where she sat. Though she was not granted to relax for long. Lillian should stood up, wandering around, keeping her eyes on the trees that could potentially hide anything.

"Long shot... center. Blond hair, green eyes." The whisper rang through the ears of the male dark elf, a sly grin on his face as he looked on towards the group of human soldiers as they marched. "Pfft, there's no way, Jess. No way in all creat...." Though his voice was cut off as her arrow left her nimble, dark fingers. It sailed through the air, spinning ruthlessly until it embedded itself into the skull of the blond haired, green eyed, marcher. The humans scattered, their eyes wide, as they watched their captain, their leader, crumple to the ground, his last breath expelling as his body passed into death. "Ha! Told you!" She hollered over the din of human screams. The platoon of humans was scattering, running to shelter, but that was good. That was exactly where the twins wanted them.

"The fun's beginning, brother! What was the last count?" Jess'elle hollered over to her sibling as they pursued the humans, the girl quickly shoving her long bow onto her back as she pulled a pair of identical, moon shaped, swords. "Last count? I slaughtered you, sister! Surely I had over fifty, and you just shy of forty." Grinning wickedly, Jess'ryn reached back, grabbing his Double Volgue, Solar, and swung it mercilessly through the air. In an instant, the blade sprung to life, a deep green aura encompassing both ends of the blade as the runes etched along the pole in the middle began to glow as well. "We'll see, won't we? My count's already one over yours, Ryn." Jess'elle laughed lightly as she spun her swords in her hands, her blades starting to glow, as well.

There were no others with them, not this time. These killings, the deaths they were about to cause, were purely sport to the twins. Though it could be considered training as well. Jess'elle grinned as she skirted the outskirts of the camp, her eyes following the soldiers as they prepared themselves, gathering weapons, men, magics, and more than likely anything else they could possibly get their hands on, but they weren't a match, not this small, twenty-five man platoon, for the deadly twins.

Jess'ryn looked at his sister, sitting on the other side of the camp, high in a tree, and winked at her, his signal for her to watch him work. With a flurry of moves, the young elf was off, his long white hair a flash, a blur, of vengeance as he slaughtered his way through the humans. A sword sang through the air, hitting its mark, or part of its mark, as it sliced through Jess'ryn's chest, causing him to gasp and stumble back a little, but he took it in stride, letting his body drop so that he could roll backwards with the force and momentum. "You'll pay for that, ye little shite." He grunted as he let the momentum spring him back up on feet. His bare chest glistened in the daylight, small droplets of blood slowly beginning to drip down his dark skin. Flashing the human man a quick, pointed toothed grin, Jess'ryn rushed him, pivoting over the human's head to land behind him as his sword lifted, slicing through the male's head in one, clean stroke. Quickly he turned, just in time to see another human rushing him, this one female, her sword raised high as she jumped at him... And fell to her death a mere foot from the stunned dark elf.

"Good on you, brother. Almost bested by a scrawny human female?" Jess'elle's voice rang with a shared grin as she spun in her spot, her swords jerking out to take down two humans that had started a circle around the pair. "Tell me, brother, what's your count now?" Jess laughed, a light, lilting sound, as she whirled again, her body jumping over a pair of humans. In the air, she brought down both swords so that they stuck into the heads of her prey. "That's four for me already, brother!" Jess'ryn grinned lightly as he stepped back, watching his sister closely. She was so intelligent in her kills. The way she moved her body, such grace. Yeah, he loved his twin. Even if she was a cocky little git. "Come on, Jess'elle, it's time to wrap it up." But for all she was worth, she just continued her slaughter through the camp, flashing him cocky grins at every chance. With a sigh he plunged back into the camp, quickly taking out the remaining three humans with a flurry of moves and strikes. Jess'elle's face fell as she looked at him, her lip stuck out in a slight pout. "Not fair, Jess'ryn. Those were mine." Her brother walked over, pulling a dagger out of one of the bodies that littered the floor. "Aye, they were, but we have to go now. There's more kills to be had elsewhere." Chuckling lightly at the pure look of annoyance in his sister's eyes, he leaned forward and lightly kissed her cheek before pulling back and walking away. "Besides, I only had ten today." Jess'ryn had to turn away so she wouldn't see the grin as she laughed and calpped happily, following him out of the camp. "That means I had around fifteen!?" Grinning like a fool, the twins walked out of the camp, leaving the bloodshed of an entire regiment behind, with nothing but a few scrapes and bruises to tell the tale on their bodies.

Out of the forest, hidden by the condensed shadows, ran another dark elf, his breathing labored, eyes wide, hands trembling softly. "Captains! He shouted as he ran up to them, his hands jerking out to shove an envelope in Jess'ryn's hands quickly. "From the Queen. It's important!" Jess'ryn took the envelope, eying the dark elf closely as his head tilted to the side a bit. "At ease. Go find yourself somewhere to si......." Though his words cut off as he scanned the paper, his fingers tightening until he looked up at Jess'elle. "Sister, get back to our camp. Now." Without another word he took off in a hurried stride with his sister quickly trailing beside him. "What? What is it, brother? What's going on?" Without missing a beat, Jess'ryn reached behind him and tugged the Double Volgue from his back, his eyes scanning the darkness that was setting. "The Queen has spoken. We go to war."