Chapter 5

Volondove's training with Zangar had been going just as well as his training with Lamir so far. If not better. He was just as surprised at the young man's adaptive trait as Lamir was. seeing that the level of understanding in the realms of magic were not confined to the field of healing. Though he still had a lot to learn yet, and not a lot of time to do it.

"So one thing I have been meaning to ask." Volondove said as he sat down in an old rigidity Chair up against the wall.

"Ask away boy." Zangar replied.

"Why did the first Eam divide his power among you five in the first place" Volondove asked.

"I know he wanted to keep the Legacy of the Eam alive, but why break up his power? Why not give it all to one of you?" Zangar leaned back in his chair stroking his long green beard as he pondered the question.

"That is a good question." He said. "And a rather simple answer. Simply put, it was because power is corruptive. The more power one can possess, the easier they will fall into madness. Tell me, did Lamir ever tell you about the Valemies cult?

"Yes he did." Volondove replied. "He said that they resorted to blood magic to feed their cravings of power."

"Exactly." Zangar said. "Despite the death and destruction the cult had caused the world, The cult tought us all a valuable lesson. No matter what race or people you come from, mortals will do almost anything for power. And once they have it, it can get out of control very easily. You see, with great power comes great temptations. Just look at the cult for example. They split their life spans in half just to get a sliver, a mere taste of the Eam's power and the power of the Tistive. Who knows what they would do if they got their hands on the Eam's full power. They would tear each other apart. And anyone else that stood in their way."

"Vexellion was a smart man. He knew how powerful he was and he knew what that kind of power could do to the mind. The temptation one would experience and the possibilities if it fell into the wrong hands. So he broke it up into more manageable pieces. And for extra security, he gave them to the only people whom he considered to be the strongest in the mind. He gave his power to his most trusted allies. His oldest friends. People he knew would control their lust for power."

"But then, how could I become the real Eam then?" Volondove asked. "How can I manage to hold the Eam's full might? If his power can corrupt the mind of any mortal, then why was that power granted to me? Of all people? A human? My people are easily corruptible. Just look at the royal family or the mages guild. True I do have the blood of the Tistive in my family, but I am still a mortal. I can still be tempted by power  Won't I circum to it's seductive lure too? How do I know I won't go mad with power and cause more harm to the earth than the demons would?"

"It is too early to tell." Zangar said calmly. "But like Vexellion said, he would choose a successor after his own heart. I for one take that to mean that he would choose someone who matched his character. Someone who had his mind set, his will, his self control. If he did indeed choose you, than I have no dought that you will be able to handle the power just fine."

"Volondove wasn't sure what to think of this. It comforted him that Zangar trusted him with the full might of the Eam. But at the same time, he wasn't sure whether or not this would be true. If he could control his inherited powers, or it will all go to his head, and he becomes a monster rather than a savior.

"I can see why Vexellion chose you to be his successor." Zangar said enthusiastically.  "You share many traits with him now that I think about it. Not only in terms of character, but your skill in learning new magic in such a short amount of time is impressive. In all my years of mentoring, I have never seen someone excell in their teachings like you have."

"Thank you sir." Volondove replied having his confidence restored. "I am a bit of a fast learner." He said as he straightened his back up against the rigid chair.

"Tell me, how is it you are able to understand such complex concepts so quickly?" Zangar asked in fascination.

"Well, I had been self taught in healing magic, primarily from experiments in dwarven alchemy some time ago." Volondove answered.

"But other than that I don't know how I am able to understand the fields of conjuration. Or any other forms of magic for that matter. Though Lamir had an interesting thought about that though. He said that my learning habits could be a skill passed down from the first Eam as some other form of inherited attribute."

"So you learned a bit about healing before you met Lamir. That explains why your training with him would go so fast." Zangar said stroking his beard.

"But how is it you grasp the arts of conjuration Having no prior practice?

"Was that a talent from the first eam? Volondove asked.

"Yes it was." Zangar said.

"The Eam was a master in all forms of magic. Even conjuration."

"No I mean was he able to adapt to magic quickly?" Volondove clarified.

"Vexellion? No, he was a fairly slow learner." Zangar replied.

"But in his defence, he already knew how to use his powers the moment he got them. There was no training or practicing needed for him. Though, perhaps you were gifted a handful of past memories form the first eam. Memories that would help you remember your powers from a past life perhaps? That might explain it"

"Wait, so you are saying that I have memories from the first eam? That the Eam has been reincarnated in me? That's why I can learn magic so quickly?" Volondove asked curious.

"I said perhaps that is the case." Zangar specified. "I do not know for certain. I know little to nothing about the realm of spirits. Though the black wizard would know."

"The black wizard?" Volondove asked intrigued. "You speak of Nethiel the black? The grand necromancer?"

"You know Nethiel the Black?" Zangar asked as his eyes widened. "Have you trained with him yet?" He followed up.

"No, I have never met Nethiel the black. Not yet anyways." Volondove replied. "But Lamir mentioned him a couple of times."

"Well If the memories of the former Eam are being collected to your mind, Nethiel would know for certain. He has learned much about fallen spirits and what they are capable of. You should consider seeking him next to answer this question."

Quickly changing the subject (and catching Volondove off gaurd) Zangar sought to test Volondove's memory and blurted out;

"Quickly, what was the first lesson I gave?" He said suddenly as he whipped his finger in his direction.

Volondove perked his back upright in an almost robotic stature and began to recall his earliest teachings, and recited the lesson as if he were brainwashed into the Valemese cult itself.

"You said, and I quote, the sky is the limit if done correctly. You said that if the mind can conjure it, so can your hands. Simply imagine the item you wish to conjure, focus your attention, harness your mana pool, and cast the spell. You also said that conjuration can take a few seconds to do and to make sure you are very focused on the spell as to not disfigure the creation."

Zangar flopped backwards into his chair violently, still vastly impressed in his adaptability.

"That is absolutely correct!" He said in astonishment.

"It's only been three months and you not only remember the basics as fresh as you did on day one, but have also grasped the limits of mastery." He said with excitement.

"You are learning well. But there is still much to learn about conjuration I haven't even mentioned yet."

"How much more is there?" Volondove asked.

"Many things. There is more to this art form than just opening portals on a whim or making blacksmiths obsolete. Once you reach master levels you will be able to enchant your creations as you conjure them. You will also be able to summon power beasts to your side when needed. But with how well you learn this first step, it will be a piece of cake." He said trying to not discourage Volondove with the fact that his training is incomplete.

"Oh if only my other students were here to see you now. They would all be so jealous in your tallent."

"Students? What students?" Volondove asked. Zangar looked at Volondove with slight confusion and hesitation.

"You never heard of the mage academies?" Zangar asked. "Didn't Lamir tell you about our history?"

"Well he told me that he had a school for young mages many years ago. But I didn't think you had one as well." Volondove replied.

"Ah, so there is something about the wizards Lamir didn't teach you." Zangar said with a little smirk.

"We all had schools once upon a time. You see, When the first eam left us, the five of us agreed to search for the future Eam before it's time. We hoped if we could find the rightful successor before the barrier broke, we would have more time to train him or her for the upcoming demon threat. So we fanned out, set up shop in places rich with natural magic, and looked for some young men and women with magical talent to train in hopes of catching the second eam soon.

We trained hundreds of young mages. Shamans, necromancers, healers, you name it. Any and every form of magic we knew was now at the disposal of the gifted public. But unfortunately none of the youth we trained had the same level of skill or adaptive ability as the you do."

"As time passed we all began to lose hope, and feared that we may not find the new eam untill it was too late. As no one we trained was able to use more than one form of magic at a time. Which as you pretty well know by now is a key factor that made the Eam, the Eam. So one by one, we closed our school doors for good, and agreed to dedicate the rest of our time to fulfilling the Eam's original task of keeping the peace across the globe. Unfortunately for us though, we have had very little success."

"The memory and influence the demons had was too great for us to clean out completely. Thanks to Malanar the silver tongue, the tensions between man and orc would blow up into an all out war, and the night elves and dwarves traded blows for some time as well."

"Oh, so that explains why humans and orcs hate eachother." Volondove thought.

"And thanks to Valemier the cult has given magic a bad name, and continues to reak havoc on small areas around the globe."

"Wait, so you all just gave up? The fate of the world was on your shoulders and you just gave up? How did you think you would find the new Eam if your schools closed?" Volondove asked.

"Well, almost all of us gave up." Zangar answered. "To this day, only one of us operates a mages academy. Gilivan the blue is the arch mage of the human alliance. And primary advisor to the human high king. He operates undercover though. As the humans don't believe in the Eam or the staff bearers anymore."

"Why is that?" Volondove asked. "Do they just not care?"

"Not exactly." Zangar said. "You see, we have been on this earth for quite some time now. Most of, if not every mortal we know has died out. Our generation is long gone. As such, the mortals today know very little about our history. And as time passes we fade out of history. Forgotten by the newer peoples. And without academies or schools to spread the knowledge of the ancients, the memories just slip away."

"But although we have been erased from memory, the cult of Valemier is still somewhat relevant. The newer generations have gotten used to Thier weaker magics that they assume anyone with the same level of power, or even a fraction of the power of the staff bearers must be a member of the cult."

"So Gilavan works undercover in fear of being prosecuted as a blood mage. And as for the youth we recruited. Well they all went off on their own paths."

"But why would you give up so easily?" Volondove asked. "After all those years of searching and recruiting and training why would you just throw all that work away? You couldn't find another way? Why didn't all of you work undercover and operate in secret?"

"Cause then we would be no better than the cult." Zangar replied. "Or at least, in the eyes of the mortals that is. We all knew that the search was now hopeless. But we each had our own personal reasons for ending the search and closing our school doors for good."

"Well, might I ask what happened to your academy?" Volondove asked.

"Well...It's a long story." Zangar said hesitantly. Volondove could tell by the look on his face that he was about to reveal something deep and personal.

But before Zangar could continue the history lesson, there was a knock at his door. The two men were startled by the sudden visitor. They both whipped their heads at the wooden door in surprise, and then looked back at each other in a panic each fearing for Volondove's life.

Volondove's heart was pounding within his chest both from the sudden burst of adrenaline, and from the fear of being caught by the night elves.

"Hide." Zangar commanded boldly yet quiet enough as to not alert the elves outside. Volondove dashed his head around the room looking for a hiding place. Eventually, he found a spot under Zangar's alchemy desk. He fell over forwards and proceeded to shuffle himself down under the desk. It was a tight fit, but Volondove managed to squeeze himself underneath the desk making as little noise as possible. The alchemy desk lay along the side of the north most wall Just out of sight from the front door.

Zangar then conjured his heavy armor back on in a flash of green light. He then went to answer the door. The alchemy desk was kept in a corner, along the same wall as the front door but just out of sight from anyone standing at the door. Despite this Volondove had a clear view of the front door from where he was at. He could see a night elf in light leather armor and armed with a halberd was talking to Zangar in thier native language again.

"Yeezbin Zangar, y teek yv mirz nuj hi yyzniz Lunue."

"Reeb thuz hi nixib?"

"Ri teek runz huj hi hnumb. Abzythinz teek duzzith hi yabim dunthin. Lunue heez mith uh wan znimsh yysim."

"Kyni rin, biv Lunue y riv dy tini."

With a bow, the elf closed the door. Zangar gave a sigh of relief as the elf warrior left. He then walked over to the desk volondove was hiding under, and held out his hand to pull him out from underneath. Being the large man he was Volondove was a bit stuck under there and needed some help getting himself out.

having been freed he paused for a moment. Once again, Volondove had understood what Zangar and the elf were saying. Even though he had never heard their native language before.

"That was a Messenger from the high court." Zangar said. "I have word from the mistress lherself. I have been summoned to the border. There is an army of invaders coming up from the south."

Volondove didn't know what to think of this news. Everyone knew the dwarves would try to spark a second war with the elves someday and try to reclame the mountains. But he never anticipated that day being so soon, nor on these circumstances.

"The dwarves have started the second war already? So soon? In the middle of my training?" He asked worried.

"I know the timing is bad." Zangar replied. "But don't worry about it. The high command has already mustered an army along the border. If all goes well I'll be back before the sun sets." He said pointing out the window to the sun. Volondove looked out the window to see The morning sun still rising up from the horizon with a bright orange glow creating a majestic scene as the light reflected off the morning dew of the grass and trees.

"In the mean time, you are to continue your practice in the art of material conjuration" Zangar ordered. "When I come back, I want to see, uhh....." He said hesitant on what he wanted him to conjure in his absence. "I want you to have one dwarven short sword when I come back" Zangar said.

"You're just going to leave me here? Alone? In an elven village that wants my head on a stick?" Volondove said with a great panic.

"You have mastered the arts of divine magic, and grasping conjuration. I am sure you can put up a decent resistance to any intruders. But just in case you get caught, there is an old well a little ways outside of town to the north from here. Nobody goes there anymore as they dug a new one in the two square. You can hide there untill I return if you are found in the village."

But looking into his eyes, Zangar could see that there was something else on Volondove's mind. Something other than the spontaneous call to war, and the threat on his life.

"It's about the knowledge of a foreign tongue isn't it?" Zangar said as if he could read Volondove's thoughts.

"I have never heard that language before. The tongue of the night elves is unknown to my home land. Yet I can still understand it like the language of men. How can this be?"

"I can explain everything when I come back." Zangar said. "But for now, just focus on your conjuration. Now if I may be so bold, I must not leave the mistress waiting."

Zangar then turned his back on Volondove, stretched out his thick metal hand and spun it in a circle, thus energizing a portal to the border lands as light green and yellow stream of manna fluttered out of his palm and finger tips as he cast the spell.

Looking back at the greenish yellow rings of the portal rim, volondove was glad he had learned how to create his own portal when he needed. As that was his first lesson in the field of conjuration magic zangar had taught him. (At Lamir's request)

Zangar stepped through the shiny portal, and as instantly as it appeared, it collapsed behind him leaving Volondove all alone in silence.

With Zangar now gone, volondove began his practices. He held his hands out in front of him as he took a seat on the old chair again.

"Ok, just like Zangar said. Imagine the item, focus your mana, and create." He said to himself. He closed his eyes as he imagined a powerful dwarven short sword. Green mana slowly filled his hands and began to rise into the air like a gas.

In a matter of seconds a small cloud of mana had formed around his hands. He took a deep breath as he began the conjuration spell. As he imagined the image of a sword a sliver of metal was forming from the mana cloud. It grew thicker and longer with each passing second until he could see the shape start to form. He opened his eyes to see his creation as it formed out of thin air. He was astonished that he was doing it right for the first time ever.

But then things went down hill. As the blade was finishing taking shape, the metal began to twist and bend and discontort. He tried to strengthen it out as he focused his spell. But he found it harder and harder to bend back with each second. Much like how metal cools in a forge and becomes harder to bend into place.

Then suddenly the spell was complete. The sword fell to the ground with a flash of green light. Volondove stood up and looked at the piece of metal he had just created. You could barely tell what it was made. The blade was twisted into a spiral and the handle was bent at a ninety degree angle.

"Oh lords this is useless!" He said to himself in frustration. "Who in the right mind is gonna want to use this in battle? It's not even sharp." He said as he felt the edge of the blade. "Never mind, I'll just have to try it again". He said begining a second spell.

He continued his exercise all through the day. And kept the volume of his practice as low as he possibly could as to not alert the night elves.

But as the day progressed, all he could muster was a heaping mound of bent and twisted metal. He had messed up every attempt so far.

"Come on Voly, you can do this." he said to himself. "It is just a simple dwarven short sword. You can do this. Three hundred and twenty nine times the charm."

He tried once more to create a sword out of thin air. He focused his hands and mind and skill on the spell at hand. He stretched out his hands and slowly began to pull them away from eachother. Green energy flowed from his fingertips as the first sliver of dwarven iron was beginning to form. It grew larger and larger by the second. But once again, the metal began to warp into a spiral.

He stopped the expanding process, and re-focused his attention to straightening the creation. He grunted in frustration as the metal wiggled and flopped around like a wet noodle. He simply couldn't get it straight and expand it at the same time.

Slowly, he swapped between expansion and straightening every couple of seconds. Sweat was rolling down his face as he struggled to straighten out the sword.

With a flash of green light the spell was finished and another hunk of metal made a clank sound as it hit the pile of twisted metal. He cringed as the sound echoed through the small stone house. He looked around to see if anyone had noticed the noise he made. To his luck the coast was clear.

Taking a breath of relief He looked over the metal pile to see if he had got it right this time. He picked it up to inspect his creation. It was straight, sharp as a razor and no longer than two feet.

"I did it." He said with pride in accomplishment.

"I did it!" He said a second time with a shout. He put his hand over his mouth suddenly. He remembered that he was supposed to remain hidden from the night elves untill Zangar returned.

volondove picked up the weapon in his one hand, and Lamir's staff fragment in the other. He was preparing himself for the possibility of an intruder, fearing that his burst of excitement got him caught. He crawled on the floor as to stay out of sight from anybody by the windows. He then stood back up with his back up against the stone wall with the window just to his right, and the door on his left.

He then slowly peaked out the window from around the corner. Fortunately for him, no one seemed to have noticed his ruckus or his magics.

He took a sigh of relief. There was not a soul to be seen. Other than the occasional elf here and there fetching water for the day or removing thier tunics from a clothes line.

He then took the sword, and set it on Zangar's alchemy desk for him to observe when he returned. He turned around and was about to practice more conjuration rituals. When suddenly, a drawer sprang open from the side of the desk. He turned back to the desk to see it cracked open. The desk itself was old, so The shockwave from the impact of the blade on the table must have jostled the drawer. out of it's slot.

Volondove was then tempted to take a look at what he had stumbled upon. Perhaps there was something valuable? Or perhaps an old medallion from an old friend. Or maybe a souvenir from his many years of travels and adventures.

His curiosity peaked, Volondove looked inside the small compartment. Only to find that there was only room inside for a small book and a used quill, with an ink pot nestled in the back corner of the drawer.

"What's this? A spell book?" Volondove thought.

"Or perhaps a record of different potion combinations?"He pulled it out of the drawer, and opened it.

Year 999 of 2E. The demons are gone finally! After all those years of war it is finally over! And now I have been granted new powers from the Eam himself. This is incredible! I must find out what powers I have and master them at lightning speed.

Year 1 of 3E. This is incredible! I can create anything and everything at a whim! Anything I want at my fingertips. I can even summon creatures to my side! Both animal and mythical!

Year 2 of 3E. The others are setting up magic schools to try and find the Eam soon. That's not a bad idea. I shall open my own school for conjuration magics right here in Celemore.

Volondove then realized that he was holding Zangar's field journal. The book was filled with tales of Zangars' adventures and missions as well as personal information about his character and past.

"I know I shouldn't read this." He thought.

"But I just gotta know what he has been doing here in such a hostile land. What has be been doing with the night elves?" He thought. He then flipped through the pages to a random number, and began reading.

Most of the book was written in English
But this part of the book was written in the language of the tistive. Just the one page
Even though he had never learned the texts, Volondove was fully capable of understanding what they meant as if it was English. The couple of pages translated into something like this.

"Year 252 of 3E. It has been three days of quarrel with our elven neighbors. They creep closer to the academy by the day. We will attempt to make an escape by dawn.

We are surrounded! Those blasted elves must have moved in during the night. We have no other choice but to hold our ground, and hope that the gods are on our side.

By the five, the gods have forsaken us! It will only be a matter of time before the elves break through the last of our defences and kill us all. There is no time to waste now. I never thought I would ever come to this decision, but it's time to begin operation long knife.

I did it. Every last one of them. My own pupils. Killed by my hand. It was horrible what I have done, but I achieved my goal. The elves didn't recognize me, and now see me as a hero for killing the 'invaders'. I pray the gods will show mercy on me for my actions. I live to fight another day, but at what price?"

Horrified, volondove closed the book swiftly. He could not believe what he had just learned.

"How could he?" He muttered to himself.

"He killed his own students, just to save his own skin?"

In his defence, it did make sense to commit this crime. He was one of the staff bearers. There would be no replacing him after he was gone. But still, to kill of a group of the youth? That is just despicable. Even for a staff bearer.

He set the book down on the desk wiping his fingerprints off the dusty book cover. He didn't want Zangar to know what he now knew when he returned. He then took a seat along the wall to process what he had learned.

He just could not believe what he had just learned. Zangar, one of the chosen staff bearers, was a murderer? He pondered this for some time. The reality of having a killer for a mentor was an interesting thought. This man has a history of killing his students. Would he do this to him too? Would Zangar kill Volondove if the elves caught them together?

And speaking of Zangar, where was he?

When it suddenly hit him that Zangar hasn't returned yet, It was getting dark as the sun was begining to set. Zangar was supposed to return by now. What was he doing ?

Murderer or not, volondove needed to learn what he could about the mystic art of conjuration. But if he wasn't coming back, then something must have happened to him. Perhaps the battle is lasting longer than expected. Or worse.

He had to go out and find him. He had to bring him back to finish his training. But where was he? He just said that he would be along the border of the Shadow Glades. But that is still a lot of ground to cover.

With reluctance, he took the field journal again to see if he could find out where the mistress sent him to. He flipped through the book to what looked to be his last entry. Upon finding the correct page, he found that he was sent to the south western border of the shadow glade peninsula. Where exactly along the border he was, the entry didn't specify. But he knew it was at least west of the old dwarven mountains. The only place along the border that touched the deserts of Celemor. Against Zangar's direct order, volondove decided to go after him on his own.

Fortunately for him, Zangar had already taught him the art of conjuring portals. And this would be the perfect time to attempt it, for a practical use this time and not just for practice.

Volondove got up on his feet and stretched out his hand to prepare the spell. He closed his eyes, and focused on the spell..he tried to imagine the area the battle would take place. Though this was easier said than done seeing that he had never been to the border lands before. But he tried his best.

With a twirl of his hands, a green flare sprawled forth from his fingertips, before looping around to create a hovering circle in mid air. With a blink of green light, the portal ritual was complete.

Hastily, he stepped through the portal. On the other side, there was a dramatic change in environment. While the fungal and sprawling plants of the shadow glades stood to his right, to his left, was the barren desert of Celemor. Yellow dirt and sand crunched underneath his feet. And the old dwarven mountains lay on the horizon. And just his luck, he hit the target on the spot. Volondove now now stood in the wreckage of a fierce battlefield. Carcasses and camp structure ruins littered the entire scene. And the foul stench of death filled the dry, deserty air.

He began to wander around looking for Zangar among the carnage as he went. Calling out to him as he went. He figured that if he wasn't among the carnage of the war he should still be alive and must be on his way back to the village. But as he searched the area. some interesting questions began to come up in his mind.

First off, among the dead, he found several dead bodies of the mighty orc warbands. Orcs are not native to the deserts, let alone Celemore. And like many other types of people, they are typically not ones for long distance travel. So what were the likes of these brutish, red skinned warmongers doing in a place like this? And how are there so many of them?

As he looked about the scene he realized that there were a lot of orc bodies. Thousands of them. There were just as many orc casualties as there were night elves

His first guess to this is that a band of survivors from the man-orc war had come here to escape the wrath of humanity and set up a new home here in Celemor. That would also explain the camp ruins along the battlefield.

But this was more than just a refugee camp. As he looked around the scene, there seemed to be thousands of orc carcasses that had little to no forms of defence. Many of them had no weapons or armor. And on top of that there were bodies of orc women and elders among the carnage. This alone wouldn't normally be a thing as it was common for orc women and children to engage in battle alongside the fighting men. But they were all unarmed. Which was not common for an orc army.

And what was left of the architecture was rather large. The ruins of the charred wooden structures were large enough to hold several small clans of orcs at a time. This wasn't just a camp. This was a mass migration.

But it wasn't just orcs he found. There were plenty of night elf and dwarven bodies on the battlefield. He had witnessed what the night elves were like, but he had never seen a dwarf before, and was fascinated in the forms of weaponry they possessed. Thier armor was thick, and heavy for someone of their size. Thier kite shields were large enough to cover Thier entire bodies. The level of strength it would require to lift something that size would impress anybody.

Many of them carried swords, axes and hammers made of pure dwarven iron, It's brass like color still shining in what little day light there was left. But the piece to resistance, was the quote on quote secret weapon they were carrying.

Volondove picked one up from a dead warrior, and examined it with astonishment. It had the shape of some kind of walking stick, yet had a metal pipe going through the entire thing. It had a crossbow like trigger at the bottom of it. And the size was just enough to hold with two hands. At it's tip was a small dagger like weapon most likely used for close range combat. And above it was a small target shaped piece of metal.

He thought about taking it home. But there were more pressing matters at the moment. Zangar was still missing. And besides, he had no idea how to operate this new weapon. Nor did he have the time to figure it out. So he set it back down, and continued his search.

Other than the dwarven and elven and orc warriors scattered along the sandy earth, there were many other corpses of creatures the likes of wich he had never seen before. Some had red and black scales all over Thier bodies from head to toe, some had hoofs for feet like that of an ox, yet still stood upon two legs. some were as small as a child, while others were the size of three grown men stacked up on top of each other.
Some had wings like that of a bat. And others were nearly see- through.

He had never even heard of these creatures. He couldn't identify what race or species these abominations were. He had thought that creatures like these were all purged from the great hunt thousands of years ago.

But the worst was yet to come. For there was one particular corpse that sent chills down his spine, and a great worry that would fill his heart momentarily. Zangar's metal suit and his green robes were stained with blood and torn apart as his stomach was ripped open savagely. His ribs were exposed to the elements, and his bowels were dragged out part way from his body. As If they were grabbed and yanked out of his body.

There was scenes of extreme violence everywhere in this place. But this one seemed to have tipped him over the edge. becoming pale in the face, Volondove was sick to his stomach from the grizzly sight. He whipped himself around, and bent over to expel his disgust. Never before had he seen something so gorey.

When he had finished his vomiting, He pulled himself back up from the ground. But as soon as he did, a great dread overtook him. Laying before him on the ground, among the carcasses of the battle, laid the body of a mighty lamari.

He had heard about these mighty beasts several years ago. These creatures have a fearsome reputation among the mortal races as some of the greatest killing machines to ever walk the face of the earth.

As legend had it, Within the ranks of the demon hoards, the fearsome lamari serve as personal body guards to the four demon lords. Their hoofed feet, dragon like tail, and horned face can strike fear into the hearts of even the bravest of warriors. And the sheer size of these brutes make them next to unstoppable killing machines on the battlefield. They have the strength to cleave a man in half with a single swing of the sword. Thier very foot steps are enough to shake the earth underneath them. And standing three to four times as tall as a grown man, the amount of weight they possess is enough to crush a soldier in an instant

Volondove was horrified not just at the sight of the repulsive beast, but the fact that if one of these things was here in Lamenreal, then that would mean that the demons are returning already and have begun Thier second war on Lamenreal.

"By the gods." He said to himself.

"I gotta tell Lamir about this."

Recalling Zangars' lessons in teleportation, Volondove then conjured a second portal, this time leading back to his home in Varamath.

Suddenly, a loud, menacing voice called out.

"This is all your fault human!" It said.

Volondove then turned around to see who was speaking to him. About ten yards away was an orc warrior, a survivor from the battle. It's skin was red like human blood. His lower teeth stook out of his mouth. His hair was long and black as coal. And his right shoulder was wounded from battle.

With two war axes in his hands, the orc charged at Volondove as fast as he could through the carnage. He was also slowed from his injuries, but no less fearsome nonetheless.

Volondove could see the pure rage in the orcs eyes. Never before had he seen such an intimidating scene. Orcs we're natural fighters, but this orc was war torn and still sprinting like a blood crazed maniac. And the battle cry he gave as he charged at him was something out of a nightmare.

In an act of self defence, Volondove raised Zangar's and Lamir's staffs in the air, and expelled some magic from within. He created a blinding light from the tips of the staffs. The orc then fell backwards screaming in pain as his eyes were burning in his face.

Seeing the orc laying on the ground blinded and in great pain, Volondove thought about healing him. But being an orc, he would probably just attack him after he was healed. So left him alone.

Volondove then stepped through the portal hastily to get to lamir as fast as he could. He was relieved to be back in Varamath, and away from that orc barbarian. But instead of a silver wizard in his house as he was expecting, he was greeted by a large band of wood elves.

His yard had become a camp sight for what seemed to be hundreds possibly thousands of wood elves. Elders, children, parents, soldiers, commoners elves of all different shapes and sizes from different lines of character and class mustered together upon his property.

"What the underworld is going on here!?" He said understandably confused.

"What are all you elves doing on my land!?" He bellowed.

Several elves heard him yelling at them. But the number of elves in the area talking to one another made it next to impossible for him to hear anyone make an answer to his question.

But before he could get an answer, he heard a familiar voice calling out to him from among the crowds.

"Volondove! Volondove! Thank the heavens you are still alive!" Lamir said coming up behind him. Volondove whipped his head around to see Lamir coming at him at a rapid speed with what looked to be an elven infant swaddled up in his arms.

"Lamir!" Volondove called back.

"What happened here? Where did all these wood elves come from?"

"I should ask you what happened." Lamir replied.

"You are back early. Did you complete your training with Zangar already?"

"Lamir, there is something I have to tell you. Something terrible has happened in Celemore." He said. Recalling the horrific sight of the battlefield.

" no kidding something terrible has happened. " Lamir said with a sense of negative excitement.

"Our worst fears have come to pass. The barrier has fallen! The demons have returned and are on the move!"