Crimson Reprisal [STOPPED FOR NOW]

VI | The Dwindles

ELNOR

Beyond the crystal-fenced barrier of Alora, the Elven forest lies South of the Alorian mountains, stretching across the horizon covering vast majority of the Southern land. Once ruled by the mystical Elven race, the sacred land was said to be utterly indestructible.

Now, surrounded by dwarf-looking creatures, the wood's once peacefulness was gone. The once so called 'magical land' was ruined by the dirty hands of men, turning it into a factory filled with slaves. 

Dwindles.

"Chief, what is happening? The clouds... I'm terrified," one of the younglings cried as he hid behind the leader of the dwindles, Elnor Biscus.

The dwindles were rumored to have carried the blood of dwarves. Their height betrayed the origin of their blood as they were significantly shorter than any other races. Despite the short legs that the Gods of fire provided them, they were agile, always drifting from one place to another like a saber hunting a rabbit in the woods.

"Don't worry, it's just a storm. Get inside, Dan," warned the former chief, guiding the youngling to the hut with one hand. Elnor was no longer the chief, but he was still widely respected by the tribe. His knowledge and wisdom had kept the tribe strong together, throughout all these decades of suffering. 

This is no storm. This is... Black magic, I fear.

Elnor was no mage, but he could feel the energy wave emitted by the surrounding. It was in his blood. Every dwindles who were experienced enough could feel the magnitude and the energy of waves. In other words, magic.

Magic in this Elven Forest was sacred. In the songs of the dwindles, magical powers were once guarded by the elves and the dwarves were the guardians of the forests. They maintained the balance of magical powers between good and evil, keeping a cosmic equilibrium to the Sevi Lands.

However one day, the sacred forest was said to be invaded and demolished by men on dragons, annihilating every single magic ever cast to protect the magical woods. The only survivors, dwarves, fled to nearby towns only to be discovered and tortured by men. Nearly none had lived.

In the tales of dwindles, dwarves were their ancestors. The ones who had nimble feet were the ones passing down the dwindle genes to the next younglings. 

The last survivors were said to have returned to their homeland as the magical forest regenerated in a blazing speed. Unfortunately, when they gathered, they realized something different. Something crucial was missing. Mages. Most of them were either burnt to death by the dragons, or murdered by armed men with long swords.

Thus, the art of magic was lost.

"Could it be... dragons?" Ronald Biscus, son of Elnor asked his father fearfully. Petrified by the clouds, he ordered the entire tribe to stay in the huts, "Everybody, stop harvesting. Get inside!"

"No, as much as I would love to believe that they still exist, we all know only the skeletons of dragons remained on this land," Elnor uttered while shaking his head, staring blankly at the skies with disbelief. "This is no ordinary magic. This is dark magic. Blood magic to be specific."

"You mean... Bloodcasters?"

Ronald was speechless. He never would have thought that mages still existed in this realm. That's impossible.

The dark clouds were no ordinary nimbus. The ruby light seeped through the gaps of darkness causing the sky to bleed. It was bloody.

Across the forest, a knight on a armored horse was heading towards their direction. Embedded with the sigil of the flaming skull, his coated metal could be seen to be newly mended. The Sword of Alora, Sevi Shawn rode his war mount towards the chief from a distance. Oddly, he was alone. Alorian knights normally came in groups, in fear that the dwindles rebel. 

"Where are your little dwindles hiding? Why did they stop harvesting? Do you wish their heads to be presented to the King?" Sevi Shawn threatened with no mercy, lifting his long sword to the ruby sky. It was not the first time. A couple dwindles were slashed by the knights for slacking during work time. They were merciless.

Slowly positioning the edge of his sword on Ronald's neck, Shawn looked at his fearful face and commanded with a tint of sarcasm, "Your kid's flesh probably taste like magic. I'll slice him up and serve the King. Go on, keep slacking."

Shawn took the sword away and kept it into his leather scabbard. He was ugly, horrendous looking. The scar on his face across his lips was enough to scare the younglings off.

"Can't you feel the energy?" Ronald rebelled the Sevi hesitantly. "I mean, take a look at the sky."

With one eye close, Shawn lifted his head and observed the dark ruby sky carefully. After a brief moment of silence, finally he uttered, "It's just a storm. What's the fuss? You dwindles can't work in the storm? Stop fooling around. Protest and your head shall be presented to the King."

The King of Alora had ruled over the Elven Forest for many centuries. Despite having the dwindles begged for freedom, the Alorians could not let the ancient creatures go. The Carnelians had always been dependent on the Elven Forest for food source. If they let them go, thousands would have starved to death.

It all began when the argument between the Carnelians and the Auburns. Since then, it had caused the Auburns to declare themselves an independent nation not reigned under Alora. Thus, the Auburn lord became the new Eastern King and Kingdom of Amor was formed.

Ever since, food supply from the locals were restricted and Alora never received a grain of rice from Amor from that petty day onwards. Despairingly, the ones who suffer were the dwindles, as they were the ones capable of climbing Elven trees, harvesting the fruits in the Elven Forest. In short, dwindles were slaves to Alorians.

"The skies were painted red by mages from the East. Something must have happened in Alora. Please, Sevi Shawn, I beg you, send someone to Alora to check on this. I fear the world is in danger," although he knew that the Sword would never listened, Elnor gave it a shot. He begged the Sevi as his eyes filled with the future he could not imagine.

"Nonsense, mages do not exist, one more word from you and... you know what's going to happen," Shawn refused to listen. He was getting impatient, seeing all the huts closed as the productivity stopped.

"Men shall die when the blood spills," Ronald shouted out of the red towards Shawn. Silence broke. It was one of the lyrics of the old songs sang back when the dwindles rebelled. As sensitive as it is, men did not like the sound of it.

"Did you... just curse men? What in the Rog Hells did you say?" Shawn interrogated with authority as he stepped closer to Ronald. 

Fear crept up his bones as he had just realized what he had spoken. Despite that, he found the courage within and uncontrollably repeated, "I said... Men shall die when the blood spills." Water filled his eyes, blood rushed towards his face as his heart beat a thousand. He knew.

Shawn came down from his horse slowly but gracefully. As he set his foot onto the Elven ground, he walked towards Ronald.

"Shut up Ronald!" Elnor shouted as he forced himself between his son and the Sevi. Hands between the dwindle and the Sevi, he broke them apart as far as he could. Looking desperately at Shawn while begging for mercy, Elnor comforted, "He didn't mean to..."

The beam of light reflected as the metal slashed.

Blood splattered onto his face.

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