"Those damn parasites! Causing problems until the very end."
Sylvan was very frustrated. The gnomes we're damaging his forest more than expected.
Nevertheless, the dryad understood the necessity to keep fighting.
"By eliminating these veteran warriors, even if I have to sacrifice dozens of treants and several acres worth of forest, it will still be worth it."
After all, with his magic, plants would grow faster and even new treants could be cultivated. But to produce powerful individuals like those again, the gnomes would need luck, hundreds of years and ample resources.
Catching this group alone in the woods was a great opportunity he couldn't afford to lose.
As such, even though his heart ached, even though he shared the pain of his fellow kinsman, from the humble treants to the most elevated fey, this was still a price worth paying.
Why?
Because there was no alternative.
Two hundred and Nineteen years ago the first intelligent creatures, also known as the First Generation awoke on this place. Be it gnomes, humans, elves, orcs or even the fey folk. For all of those races, this moment in time was their birth.
It was also the beginning of the common calendar because time was measured since "The Awakening". For instance, this was the year 219 a.t.a., which means 219 after the awakening.
Different races awoke in different places. For instance, the orcs awoke on the Great Steppes and dragons we're born on high mountain peaks.
Those locations were no coincidence. Wherever a race was created, this was the biome in which they had better chances of thriving.
At those times, two races were born in the same place, gnomes, and the fey folk.
On the beginning, those two kinds discovered the world together, experiencing Agatha's wonders after first opening their eyes in bewilderment and curiosity.
A beautiful forest awaited for them, full of life and color. Azov was their childhood home.
But those golden days of peace did not last.
When those peoples discovered themselves, they uncovered a powerful and mysterious skill. That is the ability to reproduce.
From the first generation, came a second and a third. Soon the wise leaders of both sides realized the forest would eventually become too small for both of them.
Attempts were made to establish agreements and guarantee peaceful coexistence and exploration of the territory.
But it was all for naught.
No one knows who fired the first shoot. But one thing is for certain. It wasn't the last.
The two races never knew peace again.
Both, the fey queen and the gnome king from the first generation eventually died, leaving behind several successors, none of which could claim complete dominance over their respective races.
The only thing they could agree amongst themselves was the necessity to crush the rival race.
Willowtown, this group's home, was one of those independent villages which arose to prominence after King Alfred, ruler of all gnomes, passed away.
Sylvan's colony was another such autonomous group.
But even in this state, even without united leadership, they kept fighting. Maybe because there was no one in a position to make peace, maybe because they still truly believed in the cause or maybe because the fight had become a reason of its own.
After two hundred years of war, hatred and resentment gained life and sprouted mighty wings. If they stopped now, would all the deaths be for nothing?
Sylvan couldn't even bare to entertain this thought. It was just too painful.
.....
After bypassing all obstacles, Nimble finally arrived at Sylvan's position.
" Slam!"
The strength of this bear was even greater than its wild counterpart, because of the druid's enhancement spells.
However, against all expectations, Sylvan met this strike head-on. Making an "X" with his arms the bear's onslaught was halted.
With a slight twist of his body, the dryad turned to the side making the enemy fall towards the front since all of this weight was messing up his gravity center.
As Nimble fell, new branches extended from Sylvan's arms enveloping the bear from its left flank.
The skin and flesh started to give in and blood spurted out of from the wounds, tinging the branches crimson.
The dryad gave an evil smirk.
"Let's see just how much you like this fire now."
With all his might, Sylvan threw the wounded Nimble against one of the massive walls of flames.
The bear vanished, but not its terrible cries of pain.
...
A strong wind came from the north and then.
"Crash."
"Damn it. I was too careless."
On the place were Sylvan's left arm should be, there was only a waterfall of jade green sap, which oozed out of him.
"Ahhhhhh."
"Hahahaha. Getting cocky just because you burned some bear? To be perfectly honest, I expected more than this.
With a twisted face of blood lust, Rosalyn salivated and greedily licked her lips.
"I hope you won't disappoint me, pretty boy."
A single drop of cold sweat ran down Sylvan's spine.
He was never afraid in any of his previous battles in this extremely long war. But now... he was terrified.
For one second, the dryad thought this was not a creature of this world, but something much deadlier, a true embodiment of evil.
.....
Cloaked by invisibility, even Morgana herself was astonished, while watching from afar.
"So they exist here as well..."
The black wizard felt some regret.
On the journey so far she only fought against weaklings and after seeing the pitiful battle prowess of these combatants, her confidence, which was damaged after the encounter with the Whirlwhind Rider, had started to recover once more.
But.
"I was right to be so cautious. If the demons of this world are anything like the Pitfiends I knew, they might be a great challenge to me. One that I should avoid even after regaining full power."
Looking with intensity to the fight once more, Morgana was committed. She sought to judge the woman called Rosalyn and take a measure of her true powers.