Archers ready" cried a voice into the stary night. Off in the distance, three more voices were heard. "Magicians ready" came one. Another yelled out "Phalanx formation warriors". the final voice yelled out "Assassins up, bandits forward".
But it was all for naught.
Then, those same four voices pierced the starry night once again. "Bows up" came at the same time as "Warriors brace". Two more came after, one at a time. First came "Staffs and wands ready". Then came the final voice yelling out "Gloves up, daggers at ready".
But it was all for naught.
"FIRE"
The air became clogged with tools of death. Arrows, some charged with power, filled the air as fire lit the area, letting everyone see the power of the Maple Grand Army as ice and poison joined the destruction and filled the air in streaking forms. Shuriken could be seen flying above the heads of the warriors in the phalanx formation.
But it was all for naught.
The fire would of illuminated the single target of the onslaught, but all there was to see was true darkness, except for the eyes. Two deep, dark red eyes, that seemed to contian more evil than any creature could, yet they did.
One hand of this darkness shot out, and the arrows turned to dust. Another one flew out and caught all the magic in it. The fire was put out and everything else becamse a murky color. Then this hand pointed at the incoming shuriken and knives. A wave of pure shadow lanced out and melted the stars in an instant. The wave then continued at the warriors. The warrios then braced their shields, waiting to die from the onslaught.
But it was all for naught.
The shadow shot over the shields at the last second. Then it continued over to the unprepared bandits. They never stood a chance. "Aim, FIRE" Another wave of arrows soared out at the only thing that could be seen, the eyes.
But it was all for naught.
The monster summoned more shadow and shot it ahead of the arrows. The arrows came up in a perfect arc, almost all of them in one line. The wave just cut them right behind the arrowhead. The shaft behind it melted off as the shadow then moved forward. The wave of shadow then came down upon the archers, killing any it touched.
Then the arrowheads began to fall. Without the shafts to guide them, the arrowheads lost speed too fast and fell short. Right upon the warriors. Few had seen this coming and even fewer raised there shields in time. The hail fell and slew with amazing precision. One warrior smiled right before he died as he realized that the shafts had been touched by the shadow.
"Magicians, lightning and fire spells". Fire lanced from the magicians as lightning fell from the sky.
But it was all for naught.
The monster held out both of hands, one torwards the sky and one torwards the magicians. Each hand caught an element and after the assault was over, they came together. The elements mixed and became infused with some of the monsters own shadow. Then it jumped.
It was an awe-inspiring, beautiful, deadly sight. Half the night was pure baclk save two glowing red balls, while half the night was almost too starry to be believed. And then the whole sky was black. The monster let go of the mix of fire, lightning, and shadow. It came down and exploded on contact. Even a single drop felled the most fearsome assassins and wisest magicians.
The once grand Maple Army now lay dead or dieing, those dead thankful and those naught wishing to join those around them. But one magician wasn't dead yet. "Heal" he muttered out. Light came up from him and from 3 other spots. Sighing, he set off to see who was still alive.
Fifteen minutes later, he had found a bowman, a fighter, and an assassin. After learning that their names were Athena Pierce, Dances with Balrog, and The Dark Lord, the cleric introduced himself as Grendel. Then they sat down.
And each one began to cry.
The world, however, couldn't be shaped by tears, but by actions sworn upon them. Four people swored a vow of vengenced for the death of their friends that night. And then they set out to raise Victoria to its former glory again.
For two years, they searched for other survivors across the island. They found less than two hundred. Less than two hundred had survived the brutal assault by hell itself. But it would have to do. Enough of these people were skilled in the art of combat. Skills were retaught to the fringling population, the young and old alike, so that they might stand a chance against the next descent of the malevolent Lleh.