The Battle Of Kuh'haysa.


A new day dawned in the south, the towers of the great city Kuh'haysa rose high and towered over the earth, stronger then steel was it's gate and higher then the mountains was it's walls. The desert king sat on his throne and his anger flickered as fire in a smiths forge, blowing like sand on the dunes. Easily kindled was his wrath and his heart longed for the power of the goblins of old, and so the people of the south tampered with the things of the dark.
In the shadows of the palace Haladhûn Simrog walked. And where he tread the valor of men withered like a flower in the dark and lay in ruin. Once the pride of Man, the palace crumbled like ash and the white pillars of the king where stained black with filth and the gold lining turned to rust; beaten by the whispering winds of decay.
Far and wide lay the refuse of the dark king and the reign of his of terror stretched to the waters of the east to the sea of the west. The armies of the south clashed and fell as stones in a river turned dry, and all the lands of the south fell to the evil of Simrog. Save one.
Eberrion the fair stood as the lands of old and in the might of the forgotten King lay it's strength, for he had not been forgotten by all. It's swords swung in righteous fire and the spears of Eberrion glinted in the sunlight. With the men of Eberrion we marched and we rendered Kuh'haysa to the ruins it was, we burned the walls of the city to ash and fire swept through Haladhûn as but chaff.

~ ~

It has long been told that we Elves in our hunger for justice, are unrelenting. Once kindled they say our craving for vengeance cannot be put out, but chokes whatever it touches with it's ashen grip. If ever it was true it was now.
We sent a war band after the fleeing refugees of Kuh'haysa. For word had been sent that they where scouring the land and slaughtering as they fled. Following them from the whispering sands of the great desert to the green fields of the east we found a city, tall and fair it shone in the light with dazzling beauty. My kinsmen neared this city with hopes of rest and dreams of the flowing wine of Hyng'sáng. Red and ripe it's fruit was incomparable, so sweat and so satisfying the grapes of Ridokaro where as large as shimmering shields.
As the city neared smoldering ash fell from the sky as if all of hell was raining down on them. Desert fire raced from house to house as reddened blood rose to the sky in torrents of fire. The fools! Kuh'haysa burnt it to the ground!
Leaving that place they trod on. Through the mud and rain, their grief weighted down on them like the mountains of some distant land. Though the anger in their hearts burned hot, nothing could prepare them for what lay ahead.
My Warriors where skilled trackers. It is said that anyone of them could track a hawk with his eyes blinded, or fell a dear with but his hands, but nothing, nothing could prepare then for the black, screaming wood of Dagmar. Haunted was that land in the crying black it beckoned for all to come meet it in the dark of it's shadow. “Come, come to me...Come find me and find death. Come to me and die alone in despair and doom knowing you will never leave. Come.”
Soon they lost their way and became lost in the Blackwood, accursed was the wood and full of evil. Maddening and fearful, it led all minds in a black abyss. Only by the light of The One, would they crazed in the darkness, listened to the forests call and ran into the Darkness becoming like the goblins. And thus it is that alone in the dark of that dreaded wood, they still live. It bears me great pain to say that there will be no rescue. No light from us shall ever go hither. No, only one can save them now, and we do not know his will.
And so they live. Though the fear of becoming lost, is ever present.

~ Isoldwyn, Lorwen Of The Elves ~



Thanks for reading! Any thoughts? Suggestions?

Wow. I really liked the poetic style you wrote the description of the battle in. I think I did notice some subject-verb disagreements though.

Thank you! You should post some history youself. What part was that in, for the verb subject disagreement?

I've tried writing some history for my sub-forum, but I never can get it of my head right.



I'm not sure how grammar works in poetic style like this, but was is a singular verb, and walls is plural. I think, grammar is not my strong-point.



Should that be "it"?

These are the only two I saw on this read-through.

Ok, thanks for pointing that out. Editing...

You're welcome.