Written by: Kathy "Makhta" Fey
Organized by: Brookelyn "Rowan" Gingras
**Amidst the race to pull our remaining forces from Gi, one of our allies on the western flank recovered a misplaced journal with a single entry scrawled hastily on bloodstained pages.**
Even now it pains me to put pen to paper, knowing I'll be damned for it, but I can't bring myself to stop. The King is dead and armies scattered, so what does it matter anyway? I feel I must write of our deeds so our story will survive if no one is left to tell it.
They attacked during a brutal time of blazing sun and close air. Sweat and blood ran in the eyes of both armies. This enemy from another plane had the audacity to invade our territory and raze their own resources to drive us away.
They came in great numbers, must have been through portals or some kind of magic travel, bringing all manner of living and undead, enchanted and beastly creatures to fight us.
We braved the first skirmishes with stout heart and strong formations, and caused a great number of the enemy to crumple in death. Until they peppered their forces with enemies we could not affect with our weapons at all.
In response, two of our most skilled compatriots rushed to the forge and quickly crafted sleek and sturdy axes that we could throw at these hard-skinned foes.
We fought with our best prowess and hope against an ever-mounting arsenal of attacks. Only a few of us could affect those enhanced enemies, and then they sequestered truly irritating drummers and singers behind their lines, which seemed to bolster their strength. We faced forces equipped to cut through the armor of even our most powerful allies, and banish our spirit support with but a word. Still, we killed so many. They kept coming. But so did we.
Our soldiers skilled in stealth struck blows as well. We found some of our scouts cut down but with blood on their swords, while others returned with information of enemy strength and movements. One intrepid soldier destroyed their unguarded ballista and still returned to report on activity at their base.
We burned down their sleeping quarters, and launched several attacks that gained access to the enemy base. Feats of clever, close-range and hand-to-hand combat resulted in satisfying harm to the enemy on their own proclaimed ground.
After days of conflict, battles raged on - in open fields, through guarded entryways, across all terrains. Our healers labored fiercely and we carried extra weaponry to the front for the constant shattering of our equipment. We were light of foot and keen of aim against a foe that seemed determined to fight to the end.
At last our King himself, resplendent in attire, came forth to face the enemy, with our remaining magical and beastly forces at our side and our weapons sharp as ever. We showed no fear in the face of the onslaught, until somehow, the true King fell, and seemed consumed by a suffocating crowd of attackers.
My companions closest to the gate escaped. I am left here with neither country nor kin, to make my way in this ruined world.