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Nassaria

The sounds of battle vibrated around her like a maelstrom. Nassaria, the Dark Elf Diver, witnessed the whizzing bolts of Majick, which sniped their targets. She heard the bashing of shields and the clashing of weapons followed by the bellows for support.

Her body was in a crouching position, blades drawn, and she frantically watched her surroundings for enemy rangers. Blood and sweat caked her face. A gash above her left eye staunched half of her vision, yet she could still see the cursed Lil'Noamuth, which relentlessly kept attacking her troop of Divers.

She grated her teeth, her heart pounding like a drum as adrenaline flowed within her veins. She tensely counted the few divers still standing from the troop of different diver squads, which quickly diminished from a team of fifty individuals to a staggering twenty in less than a quarter of a bell; still, they fought bravely even in the face of death.

Nassaria had only been a diver for a few cycles, and surely enough, she only participated in a few dives every few seasons to support her household. Yet this particular dive was sketchy from the beginning in which she did warn her Captain, but Drothe was relentless; the allure of gold was too tempting and convinced the team to take the risk.

She would kill him and his stupid grin if they made it. Yet, Nassaria knew they needed a miracle.

She knew this was an ambush planned and executed perfectly as all escape routes were sealed tight as the remaining Divers and the ever-increasing Lil'Noamuth were locked in a heated battle.

When the ambush first happened, their squad captains were mostly targeted first before any sensible orders could be made, which meant they were observed, and that thought disturbed Nassaria. It meant there was a powerful Lil'Noamuth in control and yet still hasn't shown themself.

The divers could only turtle up but still lost too many in the attempt. Still, they were able to form a shield wall to protect their rear and front.

Yet, on either side of the road, a pillow of deadly mist stretched endlessly, and every few dials, it would churn like boiling water. An indication that an enemy appeared from the cursed gaseous substance, luckily it gave them enough warning to ready themselves. Yet the divers who died close to the mist were dragged in by gaseous tentacles with a semi-solid form.

Many have wondered about what happens in the mist, those foolish to enter...mostly scholars, never came back or worse turned into cursed beings with no rational thought except to hunt the living and drag them towards the mist dead or alive. That is why diving was such a risky business that only a few would venture, but the rewards were immense—planes with resources, treasure and a home for those in need of shelter.

Only the yellow brick road that they stood on keeping them safe, as well as the small and large tunnels filled with campsites and eventually led back to their homeworlds, planes or cities. It was called the Mal'rak Belgareth, translated to the Forever Maze in common language.

Meanwhile, the brave divers fought side by side, rekindling old lore in which their ancestors fought together in the face of annihilation. Just as it was in the past, the different races stood side by side, shoulder to shoulder, whether the Elves, Gobs, Arkaans or Beastkin. It was something that hasn't been witnessed in centuries. A fable told children when honour, courage, compassion were virtues that many have forgotten to pursue survival and self-indulgence.

"The irony of it all," she thought before quickly dodging to the side as an enemy's spear aimed at her ribs barely missed. She hissed as she grabbed hold of the spear, pulled the Gob towards her, which was clothed in white mist. She watched it fumble momentarily and took advantage of her pointy blade, which she accurately thrust towards its core, breaking it in the process.

Every creature of the mist had a core, usually centred at their naval, and she, like many, was taught that she could only kill one through three means. The first was by directly destroying the core, which scholars said held their souls. The other two viable options were to deal enough damage towards their misty yet tangible form, which was a hard task as it needed many firepowers or by cutting off their heads, which was good for business as cores were a luxury and resource for many powerful beings. It was even illegal in some planes or worlds due to the nature of these items.

Meanwhile, the fighting got rowdier. The Dark Elf assisted wherever she could without straying too far from her position. Her role was to stand as the second line of defence. She had to guard the rangers who shot their arrows while the Majick users used their healing arts and offensive spells to support the warriors fighting on the forefront.

They courageously fought back defensively to conserve energy. Still, alas, the enemy kept coming in droves as they emerged like phantoms from the cursed mist or Elghinn’Yorli, as said in her native tongue. Sections of the shield wall were breaking as some of the Lil'Noamuth kept attacking in a blood-crazed frenzy, while others took the opportunity to sneak in. However, they were quickly thwarted by the second line of defence.

She spotted one, a white misty Beastkin, who leapt over the warrior in front of her, and before she intercepted it, an explosive arrow took him on the shoulder and blew off his upper body. No blood was spilled, but instead, its tangible form was no more and quickly dissipated into mist. She looked behind and saw her captain Drothe, another Dark Elf who drew another explosive arrow then winked at her before nodding his head in front. She picked up his nervousness even under that stupid face. He probably knew that, most likely, they were to die here.

Suddenly, her vision caught the rear shield wall crumble; as two warriors, a Dark Elf and an Arkaan, got rammed by a grey three-eyed Noamuth. She cursed as the three-eyed bear with sabre teeth quickly bit into the Elf's face and snapped it off like a hammer on a loose screw. The poor Elf didn't have time to scream as a fountain of blood appeared on top of his head, drenching the bear who didn't even flinch and set on its next target.

The grey beast swiftly smashed its massive left paw at the nearby Arkaan, who grunted and fell on her back. She hardly screamed as she was out of breath with broken ribs. The female Arkaan tried to breathe and could only suck air, but the bear followed up with a stomp to her midsection. She didn't scream much as the bear completed the job and tore into her throat, giving her a quick death.

Soon two more Lil'Noamuth entered the exposed hole. It was a short grey Gob with two long daggers and a large white Arkaan carrying a two-handed sword.

Nassaria gripped her blade tightly and stared into their grey pupils as all three rushed towards the spellcasters. The enemy was about to wreak havoc into their second line of defence but got caught up by one of their expedition contractors. It was the Frost Elf warrior, Baskis Icekiss, who used his shield to bash into the bear's snout, fumbling its senses. His right arm gripped his Run axe and quickly severed the white Arkaan hand with blinding speed just as he was about to get slashed. He then shifted his stance, whirled his axe and used the momentum to cut off the other arm in one fell swoop.