DOOM
DOOM
DOOM
The titanic thuds shook through the soil, sending shivers through the foliage. The thundering footsteps a timer, building up tension. Waiting for the guest of honor was a line of men, their armor glistening beneath the sun. Though the warriors were strong and proud, today the sweat cascaded down their faces, their legs quivering as though the armor was a thousand pounds heavier. Though some would suggest this be some magic cast upon the army, it was little more than pure fear.
Behind the mass of steel laden bodies lay a cluster of men, robed in brilliant white. These men stood beneath an aura of confidence, wizened by decades of learning in magical arts. These spell casters were the true force behind the army- they knew that the soldiers would serve as little more than cannon fodder, should this coming threat be half of what the tales told. Still, their faith made them stand tall. Strong and proud were the Paterdomans, and it would take more than a century old demon of death to dampen their spirits.
DOOM
DOOM
DOOM
All thoughts of hope were dashed from the ranks of Paterdomus' army, as the sun vanished. Over the hills, a wave of smoke leisurely rolled, blotting the sky from view. The soldiers coughed, choking on this dark red haze. As they recovered from the foreign contamination of their lungs, they looked up at what would be, for many, the last thing they would see. Deep sorrow filled the eyes of the elder spell casters, as they realized what a futile effort it would be, attempting to defend their homes. Still, they stood their ground as it loomed over the hill.
The flames licked over the hillside, their unearthly glow contrasting with the dull darkness of the smoke. Accompanied by a bloodcurdling roar was the serpentine skull of Ifrit, rearing over the now charred grass. The eyes burning deep beneath the bone swept over the army, sending a deep set thought of dread through each and every one. The flames halted their hasty approach, retreating back to hug the ankles of the mighty beast. Ifrit was perfectly still, his imposing figure looming over the men like a burning statue. Through the smoke, a few bright lights were seen, magic emanating off of the ancient mages.
Silence coated the war ground like a heavy blanket, as the opposing forces stared each other down. The emptiness was suddenly shattered, as the armored warriors charged the flaming monster, yelling a thousand different war cries. The mages wanted to scream at their incompetent brethren, but knew that they could do nothing now but open the gates of hell upon their unwanted visitor, in the hopes to distract the beast from the far easier prey. Within minutes, magical missiles filled the air, filling the sky with bursts of brilliant light, and booming thunder, met by streams of fire jetting out from behind a thick screen of smoke. From behind the questionable safety of thick stone walls watched the population of Paterdomus, intently watching the battle- their lives hanging by a thread.