Edge of the Abyss

Taken from the memoirs of Prince Ingemon, heir to House Enneiros, describing his participation in the great war, commonly referred to as "The Edge of the Abyss Campaign":

It was almost three weeks since the expansion of the Abyss, which had sparked the greatest war of our time. After a long march from Tiriant Dalath, the men and I finally reached our destination. Signs of devastation littered the road to Galahir: looting, refugees, the bodies of indeterminate races piled high and burned. While much of the war's action had naturally centred on events surrounding the Abyss itself, it was the Ardovikian Plain and the surrounding areas that offered a glimpse of its true horror. Communities destroyed, peoples displaced, the inevitable spectre of famine - in short, a microcosm of what the whole of Mantica would suffer, should our Lady's Grand Alliance fail in its task.

As we reached the outskirts of the great forest we were overwhelmed by a smell which I shall not soon forget and, once we reached the trails's peak, a sight that would turn the stomach of any true elf. Rising like a mountain before us, the trees of the forest of Galahir stood beneath a sky shrouded in dark smoke, fuelled by great columns that appeared sporadically along the horizon. The ancient trees of the glades were burning, the forces of evil destroying what they could not take. The men stood frozen, their eyes locked upon the nightmarish vision before them, and I must confess that I did not know what to tell them.

It was the Mage Iólon who spoke up, and restored our courage: "Take heart men! All is not lost, behold! The forest resists!" He was pointing to a clearing northeast, where the trees themselves appeared in battle with a seething mass of green.

Goblins.

A horn sounded, and the tree-warriors parted, clearing the way for a group of centaurs to come crashing through. The sight of such noble servants of the Lady restored my senses - and the sight of goblin spears surrounding them set my anger to flame. I raised my voice:

"Men of Therennia Adar, ready yourselves! We rally to the Moon Banner! No matter what, these trees will stand! Now, forward!"

As we approached the battle, I ordered Sergeant Pennor to sound the horn. As I had hoped, we caught the attention of a contingent of the goblin-kind who had been hastily cutting down trees while the battle raged behind them. They formed up under the command of a particularly vicious looking specimen astride a wolf, and in ragged formations, came to meet us.

The field of battle was located in a clearing with a boggy area at its centre. Save for an elevated patch on the left flank, the terrain was flat and dotted with clusters of trees. Some of these clusters, those with the tallest trees, were so densely thicketed as to prove utterly impassable to fighting formations.

I positioned our kindred tallspears to the left, and archers to the right. With the goblin cavalry having disappeared behind the hill on that side, it was important to present the phalanx there, while on the other side whittling away at the advance of their infantry from a distance.

On the hill to our left the foul goblin cavalry appeared. They came at us arranged in formation so that their heavy hitters (such as they were) had their approach screened by missile cavalry. From their vantage point, these goblin sniffs were able to cast their arrows among our ranks. Although some found their mark, the men held firm. A great rock was hurled from among the woods towards our line, but sailed clear overhead. To the right of the field, our archers began to receive missile fire from the goblin line. Ducking and weaving with the grace common to our people, they were unfazed, and readied a volley of their own.

Our line of phalanx advanced slowly, content to let the enemy impale themselves upon elven steel. From the Mage Iólon's hand leapt a flash of lightning, tearing up the hill over which the goblins rode. A battle craze filled their minds however, and it was clear that more would be required to dissuade their assault.

I signaled that the archers loose their volley, and their arrows sailed into the goblin archers, cutting a swathe among them. They appeared at the point of flight, but instead prepared to return fire.

The goblin cavalry reached our line with incredible speed, but held back from our phalanx to instead shoot at point blank range. Their shots were vicious, and many in the Star Shields were wounded. As another rock soared overhead, the goblin infantry continued their advance, with a group of spear-carrying goblins making great haste to get around our right flank. They would need to be dealt with sooner rather than later. Arrows from the goblin archers once again found ours, and injuries were sustained, one of our kin dying instantly as an arrow pierced his eye. With grim determination, they made ready their volley.

I realised that the goblin archers were more distraction than threat however, and that the encircling spear-goblins could not be ignored. "The spears! Target the spear goblins!" Only the nearest archers heard me over the din of battle; our phalanx were pushing into the goblin missile cavalry and seeing them off. The further archers fired once again into the goblin bowmen, and struck with such precision as to send the survivors running. Those that had heard my command swung around and loosed at the spear-goblins, felling many. The faint glow of Iólon's magic could be seen among them, healing their wounds.

With the screening force scattered, the spider-mounted goblins charged our lines. Another rock sailed overhead; it was only a matter of time until it found its mark. The cavalry crashed into the Star Shields primarily, the nimble reflexes of the spider mounts allowing them to pierce the phalanx. In spite of casualties, the line held firm.

On the right of the field, despite our volley the spear goblins continued to advance, taking up a position in the cover of an old wall.

Sergeant Pennor gave another blast from his horn, and the tallspears pressed forward into the goblin cavalry. Iólon had returned his attention to the line, and directed his magic to heal those wounded in the ongoing melee. Over the chaos of battle I spotted the wolf-mounted leader of the goblin army, spurring his spider riders on. I turned to my feline companion, Orchal, and without needing to say a word the cat darted through the maelstrom and attacked the biggit. Howling in pain as the cat clawed his face, the goblin leader wavered, and the courage of his warriors failed. Those who had survived the attack from our phalanx were sent fleeing at great speed.

Our archers meanwhile had fully directed their attention to the cowering spear goblins. After a devastating volley left many among them dead, they were completely pinned behind the measly protection of the decrepit wall.

With the bodies of our foe now strewn before our phalanx, the enemy changed tack. Rather than charge our line head on, they moved into the woods anchoring our centre, daring us to break formation and engage them there. Once more a rock flew wide of its mark, but now a new, previously hidden contraption appeared. It was a "War Trombone", a hideous mockery of warfare employing that foul dwarven invention "gunpowder". It spat shrapnel and smoke at our line, causing grotesque damage. Once more however, the line held firm.

The time had come for me to enter the fray myself. Calling the Moon Shields to me, the phalanx line separated as we attempted to push the rabble out of the woods. The Star Shields circled round, covering the flank. As they could not reach the war trombone before it would have another chance to fire, they used a trick they have perfected, holding their shields at just the right angle so as to catch the sun's glare and blind their enemies. It worked, the goblins manning the contraption screeched and covered their eyes. The archers meanwhile continued to fire on the spear goblins, who in turn continued to huddle with fear. Iólon had spotted the goblin biggit, and was chasing him with lightning strikes, to the point where the goblin leader rode his wolf behind the trees and out of sight.

Charging through the trees, the men and I struck with ferocity. The goblins had clearly been expecting the rough terrain to grant them some sort of advantage, and were struck dumb by our expert assault.

Blinded and confused, the war trombone sought safety in the water. Among the goblin rabble, who were hesitating to engage us, was passed around some sort of brew that restored vigour to those we had wounded.

Before we re-engaged, I heard a terrible crash to my left and the cries of our brethren; it appeared that the catapult had at last hit our line. It was too much for the Star Shields, and those who had survived fell back, the wounded borne upon their shields.

Gritting our teeth and holding our nerve, the Moon Shields and I pushed once more into the rabble. This time it was enough, and after cutting down many the rest fled. Meanwhile, half of our archers redirected their shooting to the war trombone, but its crew were unfazed by our volley. Seeing this, Iólon launched lightning at them, but the flag bearing goblin made sure that they were not deterred. It lined up a shot at the Moon Shields...

Shrapnel exploded through the ranks, armour shredded like paper in its wake. Perhaps the line would have held, had that been all, but it seemed the catapult had worked out its distances. When the smoke and dust had cleared the survivors of the Moon Shields could be seen following their Star Shield kin to safety.

I saw a flag emerge through the smoke. In a moment of rage-fueled insanity, I charged towards it, expecting to come crashing into another regiment goblins. To my surprise their was just one goblin standing with the flag, evidently a coordinator of their formations. Surprise blunted my concentration, and the flaggit was able to jump back, avoiding the sweep of my axe. Iólon had returned to support our archers, casting healing magic among them. The archers themselves were now facing opposite directions, one half trying to take down the wolf-riding biggit, the others still pouring fire into the spear goblins. This last volley was finally enough, the survivors dropping their spears and fleeing.

The archers had little time to relish their success, before the war trombone roared once again, further flooding the field with smoke and sending them running. All that now stood between the trees and the goblins was myself, Iólon, and the remaining archers.

The flaggit, clearly mad, came at me, waving its banner pole widely. I calmly deflected the blow and shunted my shield in its face.

Behind me I could here Iólon directing the archers to take down the biggit, and the unmistakable crackle of his magic assisting in the effort. The biggit wavered. It was surely at this point when he realised it was over.

The biggit gave a cry, and his forces withdrew, the war trombone crew abandoning their weapon in the process. It was likely that they were out of power anyway.

Thus did our first battle end. We had overcome the enemy, and we had defended the trees. The cost had been dear, and it was to be many days of treating the wounded before we were fit to assist the war effort further. But assist it we would. The stakes were too high for it to be any other way. Whatever happened, whatever the cost, the elves of Therennia Adar had chosen their ground, their new mantra a declaration of intent: these trees will stand.