The Crimson Spire was vast beyond comprehension.
The size of one of its floor varied.
A floor could range from many acres of land to immeasurable expanses that had its own kingdoms, nations and even continents.
On a larger scale than the above, some even had their own stars.
The Second Floor was one of those with vast expanses enough to hold several cities and kingdoms, and the land of Vandar is one of such territories.
Vandar was formerly a serene and mystical region with flourishing villages and kingdoms therein that nestled deep within the ancient forests that Vandar provided, living peacefully and harmoniously.
The region of Vandar showered the elves with its grace, granting them the beauty of nature and the priceless blessing of the green stone — emeralds.
None of the elven villages lacked anything.
Not food.
Not water.
They suffered no afflictions or hardships as Vandar had all they needed to survive.
The days were filled with chats and banters and the nights were crammed with enchanting melodies and festivities with beautiful skies adorned by their many colourful fireworks.
They would sing so much that even the trees of the forest started to dance to their tunes, tangoing with the night's handsome and gentle wind.
"Hail the great forest spirit, Vandira!" they would pray and give thanks.
"Hail Vandira!"
"Hail Vandira, the great spirit!"
The elven villages prospered due to their communal style of living and contributions to each other's growth.
To curb greed, the elders decided that no one elf would rule over the villages or kingdoms.
Instead, a ruling council of the wisest elves, regardless of age, was established to oversee and settle internal as well as external disputes between them if any arose.
It was a great council, consisting of two candidates from each of the villages in all of Vandar.
They continued to flourish in their utopia and everything seemed to be going well until one day.
On that fateful day, twenty-five years ago, Vandar's green turned to simmering black and red like the innards of a raging volcano.
Its clear sky darkened and Vandar has not remained the same since then.
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[In Vandar, 25 years ago]
The night sky was quiet.
The crickets chirped melodiously.
The large flames the elves set up for one of their festivals was still burning like fresh fire.
The stars twinkled in the silent sky.
The villagers were fast asleep and snoring soundly while sinister shadows quietly breezed past them in their numbers.
These harbingers of chaos loomed over the village in the dead of the night.
The red and orange colours of their skin looked even more menacing when the illumination from the burning fire mixed with them.
These creatures giggled sinisterly in excitement and anticipation of what was about to happen.
Led by the infamous Ogre King, Brunt, the goblinoids emerged from the darkness where they hid.
Their mouths widened into ominous grins and watered with saliva as they growled in thirst for blood.
Malice burned in their golden eyes as they raged on.
The enemy had stepped into the largest of the elven villages in Vandar unnoticed.
Their master plan was to take over this village and make it the new bastion of strength from where they would subdue the rest of the region of Vandar.
That was Brunt's ultimate plan.
The Ogre King whistled for her followers to move on, penetrating the village even further.
She swiped a tent open and saw an elderly elf sleeping without a care in the world.
She grinned maliciously as she stared down at the sleeping man.
"Found you," she said, satisfied with her discovery one of the village's elders.
Brunt walked over to the snoring and sleeping body of the elder and chuckled.
She rested her club on her shoulder and put her heavy boot on his chest.
The old elf struggled even while asleep.
Believing that he was having a nightmare, the elder tried to save himself by pushing Jogund's foot off his chest.
His sleepy eyes flickered and he caught a glimpse of an unstable shadow standing over him.
He blinked many times to clear his vision and that was when he saw Brunt's large green figure standing over him and grinning.
"Hello," she greeted him with a grin.
The elder let out a loud cry that travelled past his tent to the ears of the elves as he tried to flee from the menacing ogre.
That was when the chaos began.
The goblins went about plundering the houses of the elves, wreaking havoc and causing problems.
The helpless elves ran for their lives in a frenzy.
Those who still had some energy left in them stood against the goblins in a fight but were easily slaughtered since they were outnumbered.
The flame no longer burned at the centre of the village alone, the goblins made sure to extend the fire to their homes as they relished the fiery view.
The enchanted tunes that the forest danced to turned into cries for pain and wailings of anguish.
The chirping of the crickets was drowned by the clinking of metals in combat.
The villagers, once united by joy, were now scattered, desperately seeking safety and refuge.
"Do not despair, my elf brothers and sisters!"
The voice of a young white-haired elf resonated within the ongoing chaos as he gashed the goblins he was battling.
He roared like a raging beast and tightened his grip on the sword he had taken from one of his green victims.
"Do not despair!" he roared again.
He walked angrily towards the goblins ahead of him and slaughtered them one after the other.
Like a dying fire brought back to life, the elves got their hopes back and started to fight again.
With the white-haired elf named Valore leading the charge, they began to take back what was stolen from them.
The battle raged on through the night, and the elves stood their ground, unwavering in their determination to protect their home.
The clash of their forces continued and intensified but little did the elves know that their resistance was only temporary.
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Valore's courage was a beacon that burned brightly, guiding the elves through their clash with the goblins.
The rays of dawn began to descend on Vandar as the day was breaking.
With this new day came the rejuvenation of elven hopes.
The goblins had lost their will to fight and with their king nowhere to be found, they grew weary and started to retreat in fear that they may lose.
The elves were tired.
Valore was tired…
But it was not yet time to show it.
Valore cried out, "After them! Don't let anyone escape!"
A facade that he put on to scare the goblins who thought it impossible that the elves could still fight.
However, Valore's courage and leadership was not the only thing capable of giving hope to his comrades.
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Boom!
An explosion went off right in the middle of the village, rocking the ground around the point of impact and sending a great shock to every elf.
Valore turned around to see.
"That's Elder Faleon's tent. Elder Faleon..." he muttered.
"Elder Faleon!"
Valore took the first step to run towards the tent of the elder when a presence suddenly appeared behind him.
"Hello," a voice came upon him from behind. She had a wide grin on her face that made her look hideous.
Valore halted in his tracks and slowly turned around to see the great figure behind him.
She stood confident with the head of the elder in her hands and on the other hand was her huge metal club that was stained with blood.
Valore's voice quavered when he saw the dead elder's head in her hands.
His eyes shook and watered with tears.
"U-Uncle F-Fa-Faleon!