Battle of Ravendale

THE BATTLE OF RAVENDALE

The traveler looked out to the valley below; taking in the cool October air that had just the hint of burnt hickory from a nearby house.

Resting against a large birch tree, he noticed a foul stench wafting in the cool breeze. From the mountains to the north he saw a great cloud of dust moving towards the peaceful valley below.

Within minutes he had a horrible feeling of dread creep its way up his spine as he realized the contents of that cloud. It was the biggest massed army of orcs, trolls, goblins, and other sorted creatures. To make the scene worse than it already was, he saw giants lumbering in the rear of the mass.

The traveler was so horrified and mesmerized he couldn’t even will his legs to carry him to some far off place very far from here. He could only think of the devastation they will bring to the valley and not to mention the world if they are not stopped. His thoughts then turned to the farms and home of the people in the valley; the senseless slaughter and torture of those caught in the killing frenzy of this horde. The burnt flesh and screams of the innocent, it was all he could do to not to cry for them.

He was finally about to make an exit and try to warn as many people as he could when out of the corner of his eye he saw, coming out of the plains of the west, a magnificent army of elves. The shimmer of the sunlight off their armor was indeed magnificent to behold. But this alone could not stem the tide they were about to face. For he knew that the elves would fight strong and bravely, but the chances of them walking out of that meat grinder alive was very grave. None shall be spared.

Then from his right he heard the horns and drums of the dwarfs, mixed with the pipes of his fellow humans, all unified in an ancient song of battle. The song being played out stirred even the traveler’s blood.
The tension in the air was so thick it had a force all its own. If he’d lit a spark from a flint he would have burst into a fireball. Then there was a deathly silence that fell over the entire valley floor. Not one sound from any creature could be heard. It seemed to last for hours.

Then with a thunderous clap so loud that must have deafened even the gods themselves, the armies met head on at full force. The sight was too much to take in all at once. The glitter of swords slicing through the air with ease, hitting their mark to take an arm, leg, or even heads. Then the shower of death as the downpour of thousands of arrows came back to earth to hit unprotected flesh and hide. The screams of the dying was sickening even to the well-seasoned fighter, it was all the traveler could do to not to keel over and expel his lunch, especially as he caught the scent of burning flesh on the wind.

It looked as if the evil horde was making a breech in the lines of the defenders. Of course the giants were leading the way. But then a shadow took over the radiance of the sun and a giant green dragon swooped down out of the sky. Its wings beat faster as the dragon dove down to pick up two giants in its talons. Just as quick it flew skywards and dropped the giants like a child’s rag dolls.

The battle seemed to last forever, so much was happening. The traveler wanted to go down and take part in the carnage, but thought better of it. He might be the only one left, and if that was so then this tale which the gods them selves could never have conjured, must be told.

In the end the earth drank much blood, as did the carrion eaters. He watched as the races separated their own kind from the mounds of armor and flesh so they could perform their respected rites of passing. Then he saw the green dragon chase what was left of the evil horde back to whence they came. It is said the dragon lives the life of a fat king, feeding off the scattered remains of the horde.

As for the heroes left after the blood feast, they got together to morn the dead heroes and to celebrate the glorious victory over the damned. One and all did they celebrate. Every woman, man, and child of their races. For weeks the three races rejoiced. Peace reigned for years to come.

The traveler has been entrusted by the kingdoms to sing the tale of the battle of Ravendale and to spread the songs to far off lands. To tell how the three kingdoms halted the spread of evil and pestilence from their lands, and of the heroes who fought and died, and yes the ones who lived.

It has been four generations since that remarkable day. You can still hear the tale sung by the young and old alike. And on some October days you might be able to hear the roar for a dragon.

I’ve been sworn to pass this on and now it is your turn to remember this bard’s tale. Sing it wherever you go and then pass it on to the next generation. For I must now leave and take my place among the heroes. Heroes sometime forget and so I must now continue on in the afterlife, to help them remember once again. And maybe, just maybe, even meet the young traveler who witnessed that terrible and wonderful October day.

So take care and remember what I’ve said, for you will one day pass this song on, and come to the afterlife to join myself and the other heroes. For if you do not I cannot describe the hellish torment you will face in purgatory.

FARE THEE WELL MY FRIEND