The army moved slowly. From the skies it looked like a swollen snake that wound it's way slowly through the vast Falwoods. Elves of all kinds including Aerai and Avariels, humans, dwarves, orcs - even a few giants - marched together under various colourful banners that stood out against the green foliage. Despite the various units and species that made up the army its quarry was the same; the demon Arkhivom. He sat like a spider in his dark web deep within the forest and whilst his attention for the moment was focused on his ancient enemy, the Aerai, the beings of the Falwood knew full well that should they fall the rest of the Falwood would too. Then, the rest of the world. That knowledge cast a grim feeling across the army.
Each night the slow moving snake would stop and along its length campfires sprang up. It was around these fires that the grim realities of what they marched to were put aside as friends and strangers found themselves drawn to the warmth of the fires. Every one seemed to be different; around one a person might discuss politics or the philosophy of ethics. Around another a soldier could listen to ghostly stories from across the world. Others chose to simply drink or played games that usually resulted in the grumbled exchanging of coins.
For the seasoned warrior, this had become the most dreaded part of his day.
Rûhn watched as his daughter quietly slipped away from their fire to go seek her next adventure. He was proud and more than a little envious of her ability to make friends so easily wherever she ended up, but he also worried that she might stumble upon one fire that was not so welcoming. He had taught her enough that she could take care of herself but she was more than just one of his soldiers and a father would never stop worrying. It was not the safety of his daughter that made him so tense during the night. His eyes scanned the darkness around them with the old habits of a soldier used to ambushes. If he were this demon, he would attack during the conditions that he was strongest in.
A gentle cough made him look up as one of the others who had joined their fire passed him a bottle of Whisky.
“Thank you,” he murmured then raised it to his lips to take a sip. “Old habits.”
Each night the slow moving snake would stop and along its length campfires sprang up. It was around these fires that the grim realities of what they marched to were put aside as friends and strangers found themselves drawn to the warmth of the fires. Every one seemed to be different; around one a person might discuss politics or the philosophy of ethics. Around another a soldier could listen to ghostly stories from across the world. Others chose to simply drink or played games that usually resulted in the grumbled exchanging of coins.
For the seasoned warrior, this had become the most dreaded part of his day.
Rûhn watched as his daughter quietly slipped away from their fire to go seek her next adventure. He was proud and more than a little envious of her ability to make friends so easily wherever she ended up, but he also worried that she might stumble upon one fire that was not so welcoming. He had taught her enough that she could take care of herself but she was more than just one of his soldiers and a father would never stop worrying. It was not the safety of his daughter that made him so tense during the night. His eyes scanned the darkness around them with the old habits of a soldier used to ambushes. If he were this demon, he would attack during the conditions that he was strongest in.
A gentle cough made him look up as one of the others who had joined their fire passed him a bottle of Whisky.
“Thank you,” he murmured then raised it to his lips to take a sip. “Old habits.”