Sonope

Chapter 12

The fires were raging, and the Commander slammed his fist on the map, growling.  "Those traitors! I thought we could trust at least the unicorns to stay on the side of Good!  How on earth did Asragog trick them into fighting for him?!"

The human leader they had sent in merely shook his head.

"With the Giants, unicorns, centaurs AND griffins on that damned dragon's side, we don't stand a chance!" The elven King snarled and spit.

"Please, you have us fighting with you! He doesn't stand a chance." They all turned to face the Demon Queen, surrounded by imp servants.  She was idly fingering one of her unadorned gold rings, and her casual posture still seemed to command the room with her dark power.

The Commander merely rounded on her.  "We are only fighting with HELL SPAWN out of necessity, Minerva, and I would like it if you kept a more serious attitude in this."

She scoffed.  "Just because you are the embodiment of all things good does not mean I bow to you.  All things in moderation, dear. Good would not exist without evil and we are two halves of a whole.  We need both sides to win this war, and you know it well, wing brother."

The Angel merely sighed and turned back to the board.  On the east, the Elf Encampment was the safest place, and all citizen that were willing  had evacuated there.  The were currently encamped by a small fishing village in the south, west of the elves.  Asragog was coming from the north, over the mountains, where the dragons usually slept.  Half of the Dryad's forest had been burned and many satyrs who were not in the war had enlisted, no longer safe.  The majority of their forces was more than willing to take back their homes from the black Dragon, even if it seemed hopeless now that he had many magical creatures backing him up.  However, the eleven races that were there were determined to defeat him.  Even the syrens were helping; them and the naiads were holding the river and refusing his troops water.  Soon, they would make their final attack, soon-

The fire swept over them and they all burned as one.

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The Commander was spared, if only for a few brief moments, because of his armor.  He wept over Minerva, and the Elf King, and the human general, as they lay dying.

His ears were ringing as he surveyed the camp, now in shambles.  The soldiers were fighting for their lives, but the ambush had been well planned, and they fell like flies.  The once green grass was now red with blood, and there was no distinction.  The river had overflowed, and it too was red, washed the camp in the crimson color as the torn tents soaked it all up.  Asragog himself stood a ways off, surveying the battlefield.  The Angel snarled and pushed himself off of the ground with his sword as a support.  He was losing life, and fast, but he staggered towards the raging battle, to the dragon.  How dare he merely watch as hundreds die?!

He slew many on his way towards the enemy, but his life force was fading and each blow got weaker and weaker.  He cursed his incompetence in magic and drew his last breath, falling to the ground.

It was the last battle lost by the side of Good, but it came at a terrible cost. Blood mixed on the ground that day, indifferent to racial segregation.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Asragog surveyed the field with disgust.  All these petty humanoids.  Their blood will stain the dirt for generations.  How vile.  He craved dominion over the earth, and was not queasy at the thought of bloodshed, but these lesser being were so... messy.  Even in death, they seemed to sprawl about, eyes vacant, taking up as much space as possible, screaming to the world "Look at me! I'm DEAD! CARE ABOUT ME!" It disgusted him.