A general born to rule

the gas attack

In the heart of the Reynolds Empire, Sam stepped into his lab, where rows of tools, vials, and strange prototypes lined every shelf. The air held the scent of chemicals and metal, and the soft hum of machinery reverberated against the walls. Alara, Aislin, and Seraphine, his loyal wives and demi-human companions, stood by him, their eyes gleaming with a mix of pride and trepidation. Each was aware of the risks he was taking, the intensity that came with the weight of his creations.

As he turned to leave, Alara's cat-like tail brushed against his arm, her golden eyes soft as she leaned in for a gentle kiss. "Be careful, Sam," she murmured, her hand lingering on his shoulder.

Aislin, the wolf demi-human, tugged at his arm with a soft growl, her ears flattening with worry. "Don't overdo it. We need you, Sam. The battlefield doesn't."

And finally, Seraphine, the cheetah demi-human, wrapped her arms around him, her gaze fierce. "Show them your brilliance. Make it count."

With a final kiss to each, Sam walked deeper into the labyrinthine corridors of his lab, mind focused on one goal. He had received clearance from the council, a rare privilege that granted him the freedom to craft a weapon that would tilt the scales in favor of the allied forces. As he settled in, blueprints and schematics spread across his desk, he set to work on the design of a chemical weapon.

Hours bled into each other as he refined the gas, tweaking its potency, testing it in sealed chambers, and studying its impact on living matter. Sam wasn't proud of the effects, but he knew this war demanded extremes. When the gas was finally ready, he studied the glowing canisters with grim resolve. This weapon would strike at Orisi's front lines, wreaking havoc on the ranks of enslaved tribesmen forced to fight.

The front lines were an expanse of devastation where Reynolds Empire's forces and their allies-Valorcrest troops, dwarves, dragonkin, dark elves, and Freehold soldiers-fought desperately against Orisi XV's endless ranks. But the battle shifted the moment the canisters hit. Clouds of thick, toxic gas crept across the enemy trenches, swallowing everything in a noxious haze. The smell was pungent, burning like sulfur and rot, searing through lungs as it crept over the battlefield.

As the chemical cloud spread, chaos erupted. Orisi's slave troops fell where they stood, gasping, clawing at their throats as the poison invaded their bodies. With no protective gear, their resistance crumbled rapidly, leaving heaps of bodies in their trenches. Wave after wave of new conscripts was sent forward, but the gas lingered in the air, and they, too, met the same fate, each line collapsing beneath the invisible assault.

Back at the front lines, Marcus led the advance, watching with grim satisfaction as Sam's weapon dismantled Orisi's forces. He gave the signal, and artillery barrages were lowered to strike critical points, breaking open fortifications and disorienting what remained of the front line. Valorcrest's forces and their allies, now equipped with gas masks, surged forward, a powerful line of tanks leading the charge as they pushed through the weakening defenses.

Orisi XV, observing from a distance, slammed his fist against the wall, fury etching deep lines into his face. His General, Nikola the Fifth, turned to him, equally troubled. "They've broken our lines, my lord," Nikola said, his voice strained. "They have the advantage of a weapon we did not expect. Chemical attacks are ravaging our front."

Orisi's gaze darkened. "This is Sam's doing, no doubt. I underestimated how far he was willing to go." He clenched his fists, frustration sparking in his eyes. "Order the construction of more trenches. Reinforce them with fire cannons and deploy enchanted shields. We'll burn the battlefield if we must, but they will not take another inch!"

Nikola bowed, barking orders to the soldiers around him. "Deploy the fire cannons! Set up new defensive lines! I want trenches fortified and all remaining anti-gas wards activated!" He watched as the slave troops trudged forward, fear and exhaustion etched on their faces as they were forced once again toward the carnage.