Merge

The world is weeping. It is weeping, because its sons and daughters have betrayed it. Why do they turn to bloodshed when there is so much abundance on this planet? Why must its children suffer at the hands of greed and hatred? If this was the Lord’s vision of perfection, then may mercy be cast upon what terror lies in the future. It was not meant to be this way; not this horrid. Who was to blame this time? The Fal’Vord…

Death loomed in a rocky battleground that was slowly turning redder the more time was devoted to killing. Innocent lives were being taken at the hands of arrogance and fear between races never before seen together. Sounds of modern machine guns, vigorous roars of warriors, and terrifying laser explosions entwined to create an Armageddon that not even God himself could have imagined possible. Everything was cast aflame, including the will of the men and women who raced into a flesh grinder for naught.

It was a simple war, yet abundantly complicated at the same time. The scene displayed before this planet was that of New York City, a large Elvish kingdom, and a humongous spaceship, all positioned in a triangular formation, and all, hating each other’s guts.

A massive attack was launched from the side of the beautiful castle, standing tall enough to rival the skyscrapers of the modern day and age. The sky turned dark at the sheer amount of arrows being launched simultaneously towards New York City, akin to a tidal wave of Elvish steel.

“Take cover!!” the adrenaline rushed, terrified humans hid behind whatever they could in a desperate attempt to survive the onslaught. The arrows broke through glass, penetrated cars, damaged the pavement and tore through human flesh in incredibly large numbers. Bursts of explosions roared on the human side left and right from the arrows bringing down helicopters and more. The bullet proof vests may have been well forged, but the enchanted arrows fired from the Elven side proved its worth by the amount of death it caused.

The Fal’Vord Alien side was neither meek nor silent. Their presence shook the air around them. The mass of their spaceship was almost enough to rival the width of New York itself; an aircraft so huge and so powerful that it felt as though the gods themselves created it.

But the desire to win did not falter on the human side. They ran with all their might, head on and head strong right at the enemy just like any army would in an all-out war, performing war tactics and trying to take out as many foreign units as their rifles permit. Above them, helicopters and jets roared in the skies. On ground, tanks launched thunderous shells towards the Alien race. Disastrous explosions would occur when one of the lasers from the Alien side would hit a tank, jet or armed chopper.

Those Aliens were tough, and that word was not an understatement. Bullets were deflected like pebbles, movements were well choreographed and perfect, and power was so overwhelming that coming too close was a death wish. Their menacingly beautiful suits radiated with power, as did the weapons they used. The Earth quietly wept at their presence, putting all faith in the soldiers fighting out there.

Humans were not the only ones with variety of machine guns, rail guns, shells, rockets, bombs and chemical weapons. Nor were they the only ones with the ability to be airborne. Their jets were rivaled by non-other than Dragons themselves. Ferocious beings that matched their speeds and tore through metal with their vicious maws, then only to be slain by the Alien version of a hover craft that blasted through its tough hide. It was a sad sight for the Elves; to see a fallen Dragon.

From the other side of the spaceship, Aliens were busy sniping down mighty warriors that knew no pain. They seemed to have disgusting faces, ridiculously large muscles that allowed them to swing their mighty axes and swords like twigs, and an impenetrable will that was fueled by rage and aimed at the creatures from space.

Every now and then, when tactics were applied in the barren lands filled with hills, dead water plants, rocks and corroded earth, the mighty men that were supported by Elven arrows actually broke through the Alien lines of defense. They caused carnage and swung their hefty blades with the intent to kill. Alien blood of abnormal color spewed out onto the ground when the heavy axe split the head open. A few laser shots were all it took to bring one of the mighty warriors down, but they had the numbers. This triangular war between the three races was indecisive and inconclusive.

An Alien that was taller than most descended down a magnetic field from his Roid aircraft. He seemed to possess a higher level of being in contrast to his fellow race. His suit was more humane, more elegant, and shinier. He used some form of telekinesis to throw back even the heaviest of foes with relative ease. But one, seemed to try and rival his prowess. One man of old age in a dark robe with an old wooden staff stood bravely in front of him. The Aliens did not shoot, they were curious. But that curiosity cost them when the Wizard slammed his staff into the ground to release an impactful shock wave that launched all the surrounding Aliens dozens of meters back. All, but one. The mighty Alien’s suit began charging with intense unexplainable energy, and the Wizard’s staff began to glow as his own magic energy spewed out from underneath his robe in all available places. The two energies collided to add to the scene of more massive chaos and carnage.

Not all was cleanly fought out on the battlefield. Special Ops were able to infiltrate the castle with their knives, guns and tactical rifles. They shot down Elves left and right, operating like a highly trained military unit that was so swift and stealthy in the way they moved it was almost terrifying.

The castle was beautiful. It had walls made of graceful stone that was shaven to perfection. Every ounce of artistic detail was carved into the pavements, ceilings, walls, tables filled with gorgeous glowing plants, all to be met with thick bullets that scarred the Elvish architecture forever.

Eventually the Special Ops met their demise when they ran into a dead end and were annihilated by feral werewolves that created a massive bloodbath across the marble halls.

The same situation occurred back in New York. The hotels were overrun by skilled Elves that did not spare a single life. Their bow and arrow was swift and accurate, their mastery with the sword, unrivaled. Thousands of dollars’ worth of leather furniture was ruined.

An elevator opened to one of the Elves who was scouting about. Curious, she came up to look at it. How had it opened all on its own?

“It’s called an elevator,” a man with a deep voice in a suit said. Before the Elf could fire her arrow, her head was met with a bullet.

Outside, barbaric men in chainmail and armor with symbolic horns and decorations stormed the streets. Cars raced towards them, only to find out how easily the momentum was overpowered. Bullets were absorbed into the skin, only to enrage them more. Werewolves slaughtered any human or moving object they saw. Their eyes were bloodshot red, almost glowing with thirst for more death. Yet around the mighty men with axes and swords, they behaved almost like loyal dogs.

However, not all went smoothly for the men from the olden times. They were met with police units and SWAT teams with heavy ammunition. The firing began. But...

Thanks to another Wizard, the bullets were stopped in midair. The group of werewolves and warriors were protected.

“I have a clear shot,” said a sniper through a radio.

“Take it.” And bam! The Wizard was shot dead from above. The bullets all fell to the ground, and soon after so did the warriors and werewolves from the new rounds fired at them.

The Elven King, a beautiful tall man with silky white hair walked through the vast hallways with glowing blue eyes that were full of vicious intent. He was supported by his companions who were alarmingly throwing ideas at what to do next.

“Please, your highness, we must support our walls with more-” three gunshots echoed through the large room as all the companions fell to their death. There was silence for a moment. The King was one on one with a man with a gun who had torn up black Special Ops clothes and a large blood splatter from his face down his bullet proof vest.

“And so this is how a man in distress looks like,” the Elven King spoke in a deep and melodic voice that seemed too powerful to be anywhere near human.

“You scum have caused us nothing but trouble,” said the man with a heavy breath.

“And you did not?” said the King, who began pacing around the man.

“Molly, this is for you darling...” said the man to himself. The King’s eyes widened, the trigger was squeezed and a loud gunshot fired out.

At that instant, a beautiful Elf’s eyes popped open in shock. Her body convulsed when she woke up, then slightly trembled. She just had a terrible vision of something so unreal; her face clearly portrayed the emotions it instilled into her: pure horror.

She got up from her silky white bed, dressed in her gorgeous white nightgown. Her feet gently pressed against the floor as she silently walked out the door. She seemed shaken and alarmed in her movements. When she exited through the open entrance, the moonlight shone on her beautiful pale face. Nothing was imperfect about this Elf, from head to toe.

“Lady Salaria?” a male Elf in a brown velvet robe stood outside her house. “You seem troubled by something, is everything alright?” The house was satiated on top of a mountain that had a long spiraling stone staircase all around the small mountain.

“I saw... A vision,” she said, unable to hold her balance. The man supported her. Her eyes were lost in the distance as faint flashes of her vision taunted her every few seconds.

“A vision?” he furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at her, slightly worried. He had not seen Salaria so out of sync with nature in all the years of guarding her.

“An impending doom, upon all of us,” she turned to look to the east. There, the terrain and the architecture entwined into each other to form a beautiful white city with waterfalls, fountains, castle-like structures, and gorgeous statues. And for a split second, it was all set aflame. She blinked and shook her head.

“Shall I inform the King, Lady Salaria?” said the guard. “Your visions have not betrayed the Elves in all the hundreds of years of you helping us with them. Perhaps it would be prudent to do so.”

She took a pause, then said, “Inform him if you’d like, I do not feel there are any preventive measures... The doom that I envisioned is not one of our world,” her voice slightly shook when she said that.

“No preventive measures?” The guard looked at her one more time.

She looked down on the ground. “Just death.”