Elf-kind

'We have tolerated the defilers for too long!' bellowed a clear voice.

The speaker burned with a fanatical, stupefied animal lust, consumed by the dim, simple desires of eating, sleeping and crapping. His pure white skin, flowing sylvan hair and floppy ears made him unmistakable: one of the Elf-kind, the most deadly of the forest spirits. His long, filthy robes and blunted sacrifical dagger marked him out as one of their druids.

'They have chewed on the forbidden fruits and have been infected by the wisdom thereof.' the druid observed, a wicked smile spreading across his face.

Before the druid was a mere township of farmers who recently had learned to make bronze from copper and tin. There were but minimal defences.

'Come forth, children of Gaia!'

Gradually other spirits emerged from the forests behind him - faeries, pixies and other capricious sprites, ruthless in their own right but reined in by their fear of the Elf-kind. Standing tall amongst those petty creatures were the shimmering Elves, striding forward gleefully.

The druid knelt and stabbed the ground with the dagger, ceremoniously licking the muck and dirt off it, swallowing the boon gleefully. 'The land is sacred,' he declared through his choice meal, 'and they use it for fertiliser. The beasts of the wild are holy, and they use them for food.' He paused, and rose, his face still stuffed with parts of the ground. 'And lo, their blood shall be fertiliser for trees and their bodies shall be food for beasts.'

The finishing touch was a mere flick of his wrist, and it was done. By nightfall the township was no more, her people left not even remains.