"ROOOOOOOAAAAAARRR!!!"
The loud screeches of the undying ones rushed through the air like a perverse trumpet. As their coarse, bitter sound resounded throughout the battlefield, the ground shook as a result of their march… just as the air trembled as a result of their flight.
The army of death—the very one that every single Elf had feared for months now—were marching towards them in hordes unseen before.
A few thousand Dragons decorated the sky, but the majority of forces came from the Monsters that looked just as grotesque as—if not more than—the Undead Dragons.
Their rotting flesh was held in place by the disturbing Miasma that filtered around the individual members of the army and formed a cloud over the entire group.
Their threatening presence was enough to—
~BOOOOOOOOOOM!~
The first projectile that was launched from the Camp of the Elves marked the start of their own march—both figuratively and literally.
