[FN] The Prophecies of Elatia. Prologue: There was Hope

With the sun beginning to rise at his back, he looked out across the plain from his vantage point on the hill. As far has he could see in every direction before him the creations of the Primal Gods densely filled the field below, overshadowed by six enormous figures, each the greatest creation of their god. They seemed to be waiting, almost anticipating the events to come, as if they knew it was the final fight for the survival of the Scilians.

“Is this my fate?” he said out loud to himself. Fire, Earth, Water, Air, Darkness, and Light, each representing one of the six Primal Gods, standing before the combined armies of the six kingdoms of humanity; Humans, Dwarves, Tritons, Elves, Orcs, and Minks. Could this be fate? Recounting the prophecy in his mind; a few had been obvious but so many verses still did not make sense or even seem to fit. The final verse was clear: The six shall once again confront the Eternal. Succeed and destruction shall be sown upon Scilia but a fraction of a fraction shall endure. Tarry not for if the Eternal complete their mission the Old Ones shall walk this earth anew. Shaking his head, he has other things that need his focus right now. No time to spare, he must succeed.

The soldier at his side uttered “S...Sir?” Private Kampe, William Kampe. A leader should remember the name of everyone under them or else they forget why they are fighting in the first place. Kampe was more of a boy than a soldier, probably drafted into the army as it moved through his village. A battlefield really was no place for a boy, but these days you took what you could get.

Behind him he could hear his soldiers beginning to rise and prepare for the long day ahead. The smell of breakfast soon began to waft through the air. His Lieutenants knew what to do and what today held. He could feel pride swelling in his chest as he thought about how far they had come in the previous months. This would indeed be the final battle, they had pushed the resources to the limit, the land was now barren of plant life and no game animals could be seen within several leagues of the army. The Scilian’s final attempt for freedom from the Primal Gods.

“Inform the Lieutenants that we march an hour after dawn.”

“Sir” Private Kampe saluted and ran off to perform the task. Checking the sun again, the meeting with the other leaders should have already started. Hopping up on his horse, he began to traverse the camp towards the center, acknowledging those he passed along the way. The command tent, the biggest structure in the camp, was already busy, messengers arriving and departing. The other leaders would no doubt be double checking last night’s plan and making final adjustments. The plan was not going to change much, it was as good as it was going to get. It didn’t matter anyways; no plan survives the first contact with the enemy.

Nodding to each of the two guards at the entrance, an Orc and a Mink, he entered the command tent. A couple of years ago, the two would have fought each other to the death for almost no reason at all. Even war has its positive side effects. The inside of the tent was lit by candles and filled with Scilians of all races. Each table was covered with reports encompassing all of the needs to run the daily operations and being tended to in an orderly fashion. In the center of the room was a large table holding a map of today’s battlefield.

“You’re late, General Scarn. The final meeting started without you,” spat a Triton at the table in the center of the room. The Triton, Admiral Vasch, a scaly eight hands tall humanoid with fins coming out of the back, arms, and legs and webbing between the fingers, defining her dominance in the water, was intently scanning the map of the armies and making last minute corrections. Next to her stood Warchief Koragg and King Stonehammer. Koragg, a massive greenish gray Orc, arms thick as the base of a tree and covered in old scars from his many conflicts, stood just above eleven hands tall. Koragg’s carried a prominent under bite and an upward curving nose, typical features of the Orcs. Stonehammer, a stout five hands tall Dwarf, beard braided, speckled with grey, falling to his knees. Runes, detailing his status and position in the dwarven society filled his arms and chest, were visible in the “V” of his sleeveless vest.

On the other side of the table was Empress Therin, a pale and slender six hands tall Elf, immaculately dressed and hair artfully done. Only the wrinkles around her green eyes betrayed her age. Alpha Kali stood next to her, six hands tall Mink with the coat of a leopard and the build of a stocky man, eyes shining as they took in even the tiniest detail in the dim light.

“I arrived exactly when I meant to arrive, Admiral Vasch” said Scarn.

“The Triton would nev…” Vasch started.

“Enough!” Therin shouted as she slammed the table with a fist. “We have enough on the table to deal with without listening to you children bicker.” She was visible frustrated, practically shaking with it. The war had taken a toll on everyone. During the start of Scilia’s combined conflict, each of the leaders, while not all friendly to the others, were at least cordial.

In a few years, we all could peacefully coexist with one another, Scarn quietly thought to himself. One kingdom, with all races living together, now that’s a thought. Shaking his head again, no time to think about the future, need to focus on the present, Scarn leaned over the table to join in the conversation.

“Koragg want first charge! All glory for the Horde!” Koragg practically yelled. Orcs are not a quiet race, if you were somehow unable smell one sneaking up on you, you would definitely hear it. Although, Orcs are a surprisingly smart race, and Koragg at the forefront, but their notions of glory and honor define who they are. The Orcish command of the supply chain was one of the only reasons that they had come as far as they had. When one breeds for war, it’s the smartest who wins.

“You charge with us, Orc, just remember to leave room in your ranks for the Minks or we will leave you behind” hissed Kali. The Minks and Orcs have a long history of conflict. Orcs see the Minks almost as a sister race of Orcs and wage war against the Minks as they would against any other tribe of Orc. “An enemy of that size, there is enough of your glory for all.”

“Today’s the day we finally get to join the fight ourselves, eh? This hammer o’ mine is getting restless.”

“Koragg restless!”

“Yes, the prophecy states that the Six have to confront the Eternals. Today, we fight. The second in commands are ready to take over” Scarn stated.

Therin muttered something under her breadth, most likely about only those born to lead should lead.

“Don’t go dying on me, lads, after this is over, we shall drink until the Koragg is prettiest one here!” roared Stonehammer.

Glad that he was not the only one thinking of the future and beginning to feel like this might not be as impossible as it seems. Surely the Prophecies of Elatia are meant for us. Taking a deep breath, “It is time, our armies have gathered, only a few more minutes until it begins,” said Scarn. “Let us rally our forces.”

“Yes, it is time” Vasch agreed.

---

In full platemail and atop of his horse, eyes seemingly alight with fire, the General looked at the other five leaders. The Warchief and Alpha, ready to lead the vanguard’s charge on foot, both looked confident in their battle armor. The Alpha was practically shinning with light magic flowing through his fur, while the Warchief emitted an aura that almost sucked up the light, consumed by his dark magic. The Empress, in her regalia, prepared her wind magic to take to the sky above the battlefield with the archers. The King sat on his horse, earth magic making his skin resemble that of stone, wearing chainmail and mighty hammer in hand, ready to lead the cavalry. The Admiral, upper body in scalemail, orbs of water floating around her body that began to coalesce into clones, each able to act independently without need to be micromanaged, shared command of the army’s main body with the General.

Scarn looked out over the men and women of all the races standing in front of him. It was the greatest force that the Scilians had every gathered, and possibly the last. Nearing sixty thousand strong with half again as many followers, stood to face a force of almost a hundred thousand creations of the Primal Gods. Man standing side by side with Elves, Orcs, Triton, Minks, and Dwarves, almost as if they were brothers and sisters. It was an awe inspiring sight in face of the challenges that lay before them. Feeling his confidence surge once more, he prepared for his last speech.

“I will keep this short;” Scarn preached, voice traveling to all as if by magic, “you all know why we are here. Why we are fighting. Today will be an end to that fight. Today we will usher in an era of peace. An era we all thought impossible for countless generations. Freedom from the tyranny of the Primal Gods and their creations. Freedom from not knowing if each night will be the last. Today we fight the last fight, together with all races of Scilia as one. Today, we have earned our freedom. Today, we will take our peace!” Today is the end, one way or another he thought to himself. “Prepare! For it is time!”

---

Unnoticed above floated a tiny green spirit that watched it all.

EDIT: Updated the story some with help from u/jbduryea