Edge of the Abyss

Morghor grasped the amulet around his neck with one hand, as he surveyed the ritual being cast by the Salamanders before him. He remembered the death of the creature he once served well, as if it had fallen only yesterday. The amulet itself glimmered in the gloomy light of the Twilight Glades, the object itself made from a shard of the very horn of the Gryphicorn that had fallen. Unfortunately, when the forces of nature scoured the Ardovikian Plains for the body of the beast, they had found it pillaged, and its horn broken, the other half missing; Likely fallen to the hands of the vile goblins that they pushed off the field one week prior.
Now, the Glade of the Gryphicorn sat in the Twilight Glades, the portals were secured from the terrible Skull Face, and rumor had it that the horrible orc had also met his demise at the hands of the Song of Scales. The remaining mage priests of the salamander army remained, dancing in an inspiring ritual that made the crumbling portals of the Twilight glades begin to glow with a fiery red light.
The time had come for them to destroy the portals, and the Glade itself stood valiant watch over those who would seek to disrupt the ritual. The red glare of the portals become hotter and brighter, and the ancient cobbled stones that held them open began to crumble. As the mages finished the last note of their song, and the last, grandiose gesture to complete the ritual, Mhorgoth watched as the Glades grew silent.
Just then, nearly forty arrows flew out of the tree tops. Mhorgor drew his gaze above to see grinning goblins looking down at the now pierced bodies of the mage priests. Mhorgor lifted his staff into the sky and called lightning to it, aided by the power of the Gryphicorn and blasted the little beasts he did see from the trees to the ground. The Druid’s forces began to mobilize, only to realize that most of the goblins guilty of the assassinations of the mage priests were already dead or fleeing. Still, the glades grew silent once more.
Then, as if the entire glade lay on some wretched creature buried beneath its roots, the ground heaved. Skeletons, by the hundreds began clawing their way from the mossy, fungus covered ground. A pool of quicksand mysteriously formed in the middle of the glade, where a skeletal chariot rode out, a clawed, wrapped hand pointed in the direction of the portals. It was Settra the Desert Wolf, the mighty pharaoh who had come to disrupt the destruction of the portals and claim them once more for the side of evil.
Mhorgor knew that the ritual was already underway, and watched as the portals began to crumble. Settras legion was just in time, but if Mhorgor could hold the undead host at bay, then the completion of the ritual would be achieved. Unfortunately, Settra had something different in mind...

Meanwhile, on the right hand flank, the crossbows pluck a damage off of the earth elemental horde and the Wyrm Riders slide onto the furthest right hand portal.

Some heart breaking moments from nature, they just cant seem to catch a break!

The image above actually pictures the end of turn 6, where nature times out and the earth elementals have time to move to the objective. Settra charges 4 wing in the flank while the spears take out the spawn with the giant. Two wing flies in last minute to add to the bodies contesting the center.