A Spider Caught in its Own Web

Hundreds of years ago, in the recently severed nation of Alderia, the canyon of Devil’s Creek faces new visitors. Thousands of Dark Elves take shelter in its shadow, waiting for the sun to set. Far above, on the mouth of the creek, a lone rogue scout perches under the cover of a tree, surveying the forces. He gazes across the fields, his eyes settling on a female Draw sat upon a throne carved from the skull of a giant. She stares over her subjects with two blood-red eyes, smiling menacingly. After collecting the necessary information, the rogue departs and heads south to his camp. Upon arrival, he makes his way passed dozens upon dozens of tents, entering in the largest of them all. As the flap is pushed back, he is greeted with the sight of a war council, huddled around a large table with the map of the surrounding area. At the head of the table, a man with an beautiful runic sword looks up, and the scout bows on one knee.   “My king.”   The king rests both hands on the table. “What news have you?”   “They number in the thousands. The Bloody Matron stands among them.”   Murmurs wash over the war council. The men take on an aspect of worry not previously seen. Eventually, one speaks up.   “King Rickart… I believe we should retreat.”   A cry comes out from the council. “Blasphemy!”   The man defends himself. “Come to your senses! They outnumber us two-to-one! Our soldiers are well-trained, yes, but against such overwhelming forces—“   King Rickart raises a hand, and the council goes silent. “We will not retreat.”   “But, my liege…”   “I will not turn tail and run at the first sign of trouble. Every battle we have fought so far has been with the intent of reaching the Matron. And now? With her so close, you would have us flee like goblins? No. No, today is the day that this massacre ends. Today is the day I kill the Bloody Matron of Drow.”   The hush continues over the council.   “But, sire…”   “None of you know the power of this sword. None of you fully understand what’s at stake here. If we can’t stop this here and now, there will be nothing in the way of the Matron and our loved ones. This is where it ends. For them… or for us.”   Finally:   “Sire… you truly are the heir of Yonwin.”   The king has no response. He simply departs from the table, and calmly states: “Prepare for battle.”