Toni and our partner attacked the Gnoll with a giant sword. Toni, moving with surprising agility for his bulk, went to the left, and our partner, a blur of motion, went to the right. The Gnoll, a hulking mass of fur and muscle, raised his giant sword, a gleam of bloodthirsty glee in his searing eyes, relishing the thought of having two enemies at once. Toni used his spear like a practiced Kung Fu baton, spinning it around him in a defensive whirlwind. Once close, he swept the spear low, a move the Gnoll expertly deflected with a metallic clang. Then the other Troglodyte slashed at the Gnoll. It caught the blade with a surprisingly fast hand, and followed with a brutal kick to the chest. The impact sent the Troglodyte flying backward, leaving its sword behind, a crumpled heap of chainmail and despair. Toni didn't waste a second and stabbed at the Gnoll with his spear. It dodged with a sidestep and threw the sword towards us, which we evaded gracefully. The Gnoll charged as another set of fireballs zipped overhead, blazing like mini-suns and lighting the chaotic arena like a deadly flare. He swung his sword towards us as the explosions went off around the battlefield. We dashed back, synchronized, while thrusting the spear, which found its mark, stabbing deep into the Gnoll's knee. The Gnoll barked in pain, a sharp, surprised yelp. Then our comrade rammed the dogface with his shield, a bone-jarring impact that threw him to the ground. We immediately followed up with a stab, eliciting a faint, choked whimper as the Gnoll went limp.
The battle was far from over. Fireballs streaked and arrows whizzed, crisscrossing the terrain, hitting whatever stood in their way, a deadly, chaotic ballet. Troglodytes and Gnolls took turns hacking and slashing each other. It looked exactly like those knight movies fighting with medieval tools, but instead of men, it was grotesque humanoids wielding crude magic and primal skills.
I always knew that wars were terrible, brutal, and unsanitary. Watching up close and personal, the sheer, visceral reality of it, I realized that "terrible" was an understatement; it's bloody, morbid, and gory beyond anything a game could simulate.
We went into the fray side by side, running over corpses of friend and foe, a grim carpet underfoot. We jumped from a boulder, spear in hand, ready to stab an enemy. But then a blinding lightning bolt struck the very center of the battlefield with a deafening bang, digging a smoky, smoking crater. Everyone was either stunned, maimed, or violently thrown away by the concussive blast. Unfortunately for us, we had fallen victim to being thrown away, spinning sideways with a "waaaaaaa" that was definitely not heroic, landing with a loud, squishy sploink into what felt like liquid mud.
There was a sudden, eerie silence. Everyone – Gnoll and Troglodyte alike – staggered, clutching their heads, trying to catch their bearings in the ringing aftermath. We in particular woke up from the mud like overgrown toddlers, first raising our mud-caked bodies, our ears still ringing with a persistent whine.
The ones that shook off the aftershock first howled and hissed, their primitive battle cries echoing, then began to charge once again, a wave of renewed, mindless aggression. But then a strong gust of wind – no, not a gust, a perfectly formed small tornado – erupted from nowhere, catching them mid-charge and blowing them away, scattering them like leaves.
Everyone was utterly confused; this sudden, inexplicable display of nature seemingly stopped Gnoll and Troglodyte from killing each other, if only for a moment.
"That would be enough killing for tonight," a deep, resonant, impossibly manly voice echoed from above, seeming to descend from the very heavens. I looked up. A man in a hood was gliding effortlessly on the air, like a puppet on a diagonal position, being dragged by unseen, ethereal strings. He dropped gracefully near the lightning crater, but before he even touched the ground, he decelerated quickly, smoothly, into a perfectly composed standing position. "What a dramatic entrance – so cool," I thought to myself, a pang of envy. I want to be that cool.
"Stop this madness; whatever you are fighting about, it ends tonight," he said, his voice imbued with a calm, unwavering authority that somehow cut through the lingering chaos.
The Gnolls looked at each other. One particular Gnoll raised his shoulder as if gesturing, "Who the hell is this?" then, in a fit of rage, began to attack the cloaked man.
"Tsk tsk tsk," the man uttered, a sound of mild disappointment, as his right hand reached out. The ground cracked open, and gnarled roots, thick as my arm, climbed up. They seemed to grow into his outstretched hand, becoming a wand that had grotesquely overgrown at the handle and glowed with an ethereal green light. He then pointed it outwards to the front. He waved his wand with a fluid, almost dance-like motion, moving like a conductor leading an invisible orchestra, chanting inaudible noises and creating an intricate magic diagram that pulsed atop his wand.
The Gnoll who attacked suddenly stopped in its tracks as roots from the ground erupted and snaked up its body, tying it in place. His panicked expression, coupled with rabid anger, wasquenched, replaced by horrified stillness when the roots reached his neck. Then it stopped, completely paralyzed. Other Gnolls, one after the other, attacked, snarling and howling. The man, a conductor full of passion, simply waved his hands and moved with a captivating grace, like an interpretative dancer commanding the earth itself. Roots from the ground erupted everywhere, tying up all the attackers who were barking and howling one after another until all were completely incapacitated, ensnared and silenced.
A sharp squeal erupted from the Troglodytes' side, and all of them, including us, immediately placed their weapons away, a sign of surrender or respect. Then Toni and the Troglodytes, a unified, disciplined force, moved into a triangle formation, its apex pointed directly towards the man.
After immobilizing all of the Gnolls, he looked in the Troglodytes' direction, a gentle smile gracing his lips. "Ahh, what a sight to behold, you guys are organized, very uncommon of your kind," he said, his voice laced with genuine pleasure and a hint of surprise.
From the triangle formation, an old troglodyte emerged from the center, his form slightly hunched, wearing a simple, earth-toned robe. There were two guards at his side, massive for their kind, which he signaled to stay put with a subtle gesture. "Greetings, oh powerful one, I am Razuuk, an elder of the Pale," he said, his voice a breathy soprano, surprisingly melodic for a Troglodyte. He raised both of his hands to show no weapons, a gesture of peace, and walked slowly, deliberately, towards the man. "May we know who is upon us?" As he slowly moved towards the man.
"Salutations, wise one," the man said, dropping his wand to the ground in a dramatic way, like finishing an opera. Then the wand, with a soft thump, dug its way mysteriously underground, disappearing from sight. "Call me Tarnum the Druid."