"He offers an alliance, the fruits of which would encompass the Glorious Valley should victory over Wetherid be ours."
"But what will become of Marnog Jar? Of Mist Moor, which offers us not only home, but also protection and identity? How can we give up everything and place ourselves under someone else's banner, just for a piece of land that stands between us and old enemies?" replied Prince Sylvain Fog Crow, his expression marked by pensiveness.
"It's not about being subservient. Erwight sees you, the mist elves, as allies on a path to something greater. The Glorious Valley is just the beginning," Ornux replied with a smile that radiated more patience than joy.
Prince Sylvain paused for a moment.
"If we join this alliance, it will only be on the condition that our people, our freedoms and our heritage remain protected. Marnog Jar and Mist Moor are our foundation; the Glorious Valley must be a place where the mist elves can not only exist, but thrive," he spoke.
"These conditions are respected and Erwight of Entorbis is ready to fulfill them. Together we enter a future in which Marnog Jar will be at the center of a new order," Ornux agreed earnestly.
And so, under the watchful eye of the mist, a new chapter was opened, not without uncertainty, but with a spark of hope for a future in which the mist elves would play a central role in shaping their destiny, strengthened by new alliances and the promise of a better world.
The shrill, distorted sound of horns rang out over Mist Moor, whereupon the spider and lizard riders, followed by a troop of mist elves several hundred strong, rode north.
The gale shot Vrenli accelerating like an arrow into the sky and carried him further inland towards the east. A sea of tents stood on the dark rock-strewn plain of Raga Gur. From the highest peak of a small mountain range in the north, a mighty flame flickered high into the sky.
He could clearly see the crater filled with glowing lava. He could feel the searing heat of the fire, which never went out and whose light colored the plain fiery red. Hot, molten rock poured out from inside the mountain and flowed slowly down the steep mountain faces. Hundreds of heavily armed orcs had gathered at a burnt forest quarter, no more than a thousand paces from the fire-breathing volcano. Ornux, shadow mage and emissary of Erwight of Entorbis, had set out to renew the alliance with the orcs under the leadership of shaman Gorzod Greywing. But the atmosphere was tense and the air vibrated with mistrust.