As happened many times in the past the Fell Ice once again charged down from the north and attacked the world in its effort to turn it into a frozen ball of ice. Only the White Magic and it's ally the Sun could stand against such a vast enemy.
From...
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General Darkath awoke bound to a cold slab of stone, looking up as snow gently fell upon his face. Torches burned on poles all about giving off a feeble light as the sun was almost done lighting the steely gray clouds for the day. He moved his sore head around and could see four figures in black, two on each side of the stone table he was tied to. The General was filled with a deep dread as he gazed upon them. He could see their evil foulness as they spoke some strange incantation. When he looked away he saw the High Mage and a handful of Elves in the distance. All were tied hand and foot and on their knees in the snow.
"General Darkath," a voice sounded behind him, out of sight. "Giveth thy life force unto me!" The voice could barely be heard, it was the low gravelly noise boulders make when they rub on one another.
The General looked up to a stone knife crawling with evil runes. He realized the tall black sorcerer stood at his head holding it. He also realized he was stripped of his armor and his chest was bare. The General closed his eyes and said, "Never!" as the knife came down. He went into the White Magic within and gave himself to it.
*****
The Dark Lord held the knife high feeling the darkness within him crying out to feed. The Dread Lords standing at the sides of the table chanted, greedy for the blinding life spirit within this body. He brought the knife down in anticipation of a jolt of power so strong as to knock him away. With both hands he plunged the knife deep into the chest of the Elven General.
Nothing, there was nothing from the killing, nothing from the sacrifice. Instead of being struck back with the lightning strike of the life force they fell back with an empty nothingness. The Druids Bane each put their hands over the holes in the sides of their heads in an effort to shut out the screaming darkness within.
"Bring forth another Elf to put upon thy table!" the Dark Lord screamed. He felt the darkness most of all. It was a clawing malevolence within his head threatening to burst out.
Three more Elves went under the knife and three more gave the spirit of their life force to the Good Magick within before it could be taken. The Dark Lord noticed white tendrils of smoke rise into the aether with each knife strike to mix with the mist in the sky. He came to realize the life spirit of the Elves was denied him.
They were running out of time and the Dark Lord knew they needed strength to cross the boundary into the lands of the Fell Ice. They also needed to satisfy the darkness within. "Bring slaves! Kill thy rest of thine Elves!" he screamed once more at his followers. In seconds the few living black sorcerers of his Dark Stars pulled out swords and brought them down on the necks of the remaining Elves.
Several slaves were brought to the table to sate the appetite of the darkness and renew their strength. Even the black sorcerers were allowed to feed from the altar table. They walked up to change places with the Dread Lords and stand at the points of the pentagram carved into the stone on which the bodies lay.
