Aerchon moved with incredible grace and speed, his eyes blazing with determination as he led his group through the corrupted terrain. The tendrils they encountered were no match for his power and skill as the prince of the Elves who wielded his own Starsteel sword and his Magic sword with elegance that few could match.
Each swing of his sword made a deep cut to the dark tendrils. And with his army they severing the connection between the earth and the vortex that loomed overhead.
The elves at his side, inspired by his leadership, fought with the same vigor as their leader. They moved in harmony with their prince, their Magic attack aiding in clearing the twisted creatures that tried to defend the energy tendrils.
Aerchon's pace was relentless, he never lingered long at a site once it was purged, his eyes already scanning the horizon for the next.
As the last tendril in his immediate area crumbled to dust, Aerchon didn't allow himself a moment of rest.
