Abberthorn

The Enemy at Our Door

With the morning sun mid-way through the bright blue sky, King Echleeduice's steward made his way through the palace and its grounds locating each of the leaders of Abberthorn. The time had finally come, everyone was present, and they had managed to bring together an army that was nearly nine hundred and eighty thousand strong. The tents of the military personnel reached out almost to the horizon leaving Aramore and the others feeling a real sense of accomplishment. They had managed over a period of nearly five years to reach out and get the help of almost every major hold in all of Abberthorn.

King Echleeduice's courtyard gazebo with sixteen seats had only two empty chairs. As the Kings, Queens and Stjornas of Abberthorn sat arguing and talking amongst themselves while they waited for the arrival of Aramore and the King of the elves.

'I don't know how we are ever going to be able to defend our homes against an evil like the one we are facing, if we have to fight alongside a bunch of untrained buffoons' said Jerathore looking out over the valley where the armies were pitched.

'How dear you... who do you think you are? I knew that the evil we are facing has had five thousand years to gather his army. Something that none of us knew until a short while ago. I gathered as many able-bodied men and woman as I could find, in the hopes that we might stand a fighting chance' said Halvard insulted by Jerathore's judgement.

'It does not matter how many men we can put out on to the battlefield if they are simply going to get themselves killed in the first thirty minutes' said Jerathore.

'My men may not have the most formal training, but they have heart, and that will count in the long run' said Halvard.

'You know nothing about how to field an army peasant King. I have ruled over my kingdom for nearly five hundred years. My father before me was a king and his father before him. I was bread for my position, and you, you were given your position by your people. And as for your men's heart, I believe we will be seeing them torn out on the field of battle' said Jerathore.

'That is enough Jerathore. You know the stories that grandfather told about the Thousand Year War. This is not going to be easy. We are going to need every man that this land can afford to give us' yelled Jeraxin bringing the argument to a close.

'So, this is all real then. I came here because I saw the conviction in that old wizard's eyes, and I felt that I could not take the risk of it being true and not doing anything. I guess for the longest time now I just thought that it was all some kind of a ruse' said Runa looking around at the older more experienced leaders realising that this was really happening.

'Aramore was not the only one to have lived through the last war. Every elf in this city lived through Setherin's last attempt to conquer Abberthorn, and they dread what is coming next. Every day that I walk through this city I see the fear in their eyes as they prepare for what is coming' said Bellathor.

'Wow I never knew that the elves were so old. You wouldn't say it to look at them. They don't look that old, they all seem younger than most of the people in this room' said Runa unsure if she should trust the word of an Orc.

'I knew that Nords were ignorant' said Jerathore. 'But this takes the cake. Don't your people know that elves were cursed by the Goddess Serildurth with eternal youth? Unless they fall in battle they will continue to live until the end of days!'

'Jerathore that was uncalled for. Runa is just Thirteen years old. You're nearly eleven hundred years old. You cannot expect her to know all that you do' said Zodirah.

'Look around they were all shocked to learn that elves could possibly live forever. And with regard to her age, she is the Stjorna of Silverglen. The city that is home to the shrine to Serildurth, and she of all people does not know the history of the person to whom the monument above her castle was built to honour' yelled Jerathore in outrage.