City of Fate

Prologue

The troll glowered over the dark and gloomy battlefield. His mouth grimaced, yellowed teeth glistening as rivulets of spittle seeped from the dark, cracked lips. He stood coiled, almost translucent skin stretched taught over the hard grey sinew of his hulking physique. He held a huge club the size of a small tree trunk, ready to rend the skull of any unlucky enough to get in his way. The black, emotionless specks of his eyes stared across the bleak, blood soaked land. The sky grey and cloudy with the mist of early morning and the smoke of a hard fought battle. His army of goblins grumbled behind him, all dark greys and greens. Their gruesome lips peeled back against the rows of razor sharp teeth. The goblins, while being stalwart warriors, were known to be disloyal war companions. The slimy creatures were long of arms, but short on brains. They wore almost no clothes, the lot of them, only shreds of dirty, ragged cloth. One could notice, on close inspection, the occasional piecemeal armor, some gleaming steel or brass, some dark and wooden. Some stolen from the conquest of dwarf or human, some rudimentary items crafted by the goblins themselves.

The Troll snarled, baring rows of sharp teeth, both long K9s on the bottom conspicuously missing. He readied for battle in the false twilight that was brought on by the greasy smoke of a ravaged battlefield. His craggy face was made more gnarled by new and old scars crisscrossing the surface. A hesitation briefly marred his menacing expression, the briefest of pauses and his barrel like chest heaved abruptly as he prepared to bellow. It came deep and ranging, a call to war, a call of ancient and unending rancor, a call both dark and woeful, a call that will be remembered in bards songs throughout all history.

The elf stood across the battlefield, confident and regal, despite the grime and dirt of hard fought battle. Her armor gleamed brightly, the scale-like links chimed melodically with every slight movement, in spite of the din that dampened all but the sharpest of sounds. In one hand a charred and chafed shield, a House crest of a dragon emblazoned in gold on the front. In the other a long slender sword, almost glowing in silver and gold. The blade was made from elven alloy so hard not a scratch or scuff defected the surface. She crouched in readiness for battle as streams of smoke and orange embers swirled around her. Her blue white hair lay perfectly as if the wind and the recent battle never passed across it. The dragon by her side loomed huge over the elf, head low, positioned next to her right shoulder. The dragon was white and shimmered iridescently with all the colors of the rainbow, his armor shining bright Elven alloy, covering weak points at cheeks, neck, armpits and four legs. His wings flapped slightly but mostly lay tightly against the sides of his thick body. Stone hard spikes protruded from various parts of his long body, culminating with azure tips in a cluster on his wedge like head. Streams of blue grey smoke emitted from cavernous nostrils the size of a humans head. The Elf spoke, her voice both melodic and booming, cutting through all the noise, seeming to be spoken from all directions. "Let us finish this Krabloch. Let this battle be fought for the world, the Future will rest on this war, whether it ends now or in some distant time the Trolls shall never rule, for that would be the end of us all."

With that, all four parties present, Troll and army, Elf and Dragon, sprinted toward each other covering the distance between within seconds and clashed with a loud and explosive concussion and all went dark and silent.