Western Wilds, the North West coast.

51st of Amsiel, Second month of Summer.

2139 years since the new gods came.

The Elves are against the plan. Completely. They don't want the fire anywhere near the trees. Ivan and Green man say they might have an alternative, but to be effective, the things need to be herded back to a smaller area.

- - -

“Trees are sacred to our god. We cannot let the forest burn.” The elven general was pacing up and down the length of the table. “If need be, we will bodily stand against you.”

Maxwell looked at the rest of the assembled leaders, then stood. “Very well, general. We understand your concerns. We will see what else can be done.”

The meeting went on for hours, with no other 'good' ideas put forth.

- - -

53rd of Amsiel,

An elven unit got thrashed. 28 survivors out of a thousand troops. Their camp was overrun in the night. The survivors were part of a long range scout patrol, out of camp chasing a small group of things that had slipped past the lines.

Our camps are spread to thin, five hundred to a thousand soldiers plus support staff per camp. Each camp is five to ten miles from the next. The line is far too long. At this point we have had to retreat to the edge of the forest, and the forest border is almost four hundred miles long. It is too big.

There are constant patrols, day and night. If it weren't for the constant support from the city states, smaller local kingdoms, and from back home, we would be over run.

On the plus side, if the things aren't very hungry, they don't attack at night.

I worry about how many of the things have been able to sneak past our lines.

- - -

The things were barely a foot long, but there were dozens of them. If it weren't for the sandy soil, the elven patrol would have had more trouble following them. But they had found the trail, and had finally been able to get ahead of them. They set their ambush, laid in wait, and then attacked. The things fied under the withering fire of magically enhanced arrows and magic wands. Only three of them had made it past the first barrage, and they lasted mere moments against the front line scouts.

The patrol finished policing the area, burned the bodies to ash, and headed back to camp to make their report.

As they closed the distance, they saw fire on the horizon and smelled smoke. They ran their mounts at full speed, several dying from exhaustion after the already long chase. When they finally made it, their camp was flattened and vacant. All that was left were a few half eaten corpses, and hundreds of bodies of the things.

- - -

54th of Amsiel,

They don't kill/eat everyone. They take half of them back for later consumption. They seem to be getting smarter.

A report made it back of a an exceedingly large one, some hundred yards long and thirty high. It was 'observed' directing the smaller ones. It was long gone when Ivan got there.

55th of Amsiel,

Elven command has formally endorsed the plan of burning the forest. It will take three days to set up the fire lane so we don't get burned ourselves. Five soldier teams will be sent to the forest edge, at one mile intervals with fifty gallon casks of flammables. They will lay a line of liquid, and once everyone is ready, they will light it.

At least all of the locals are gone.

56th of Amsiel,

“Granddaddy” was spotted again today. Outpost fifty-two is gone. I no longer care about the fire breaks. The burn starts tomorrow.

1st of Kusha, the month of harvest.

Fire. Fire burns. We started the blaze in the hour before sunrise. The line of liquid fire worked wonders. Green man had a strange spraying device attached to a metal backpack that we used in the central area. Thankfully the winds have been with us all day.

A couple of spots had flames cross the lines, but they weren't allowed to spread.

When a patch doesn't burn fully, we will send in a group of mages to roast the area with fire spells. Tomorrow we will begin moving our camps forward.

4th of Kusha,

Three days of constant fire. The enemy is retreating, rather than burning to death. We drive them forward, but....their numbers aren't dropping.

5th of Kusha,

They have retaliated. Fifteen hundred are dead, or taken. We did manage to beat them back, but just barely. Ivan was the saving grace. “Granddad” was there. He needs to go.

- - -

Ivan dove off the horse, rolled, and came up to his knees, firing. The 'click, click, bang' of his rifle exciting the troops around him. The things, creatures from beyond, or whatever they were, took notice of him, and began to charge.

Green, having been slower in his dismount, stepped to his side, pointed the end of his flamethrower towards the enemy, and pulled the trigger. They burned, they screamed, they chittered, they fell. Then Granddad slowly lumbered from the hole in the fire.

The battle field went quiet for a moment, then the screaming began, as thousands of small ones scurried out from under the thick ash, and climbed onto the soldiers. They bit, and tore, and stung. Soldiers screamed in pain, and dropped where they stood, as the acidic venom quickly ran through the victims blood.

Ivan aimed at the giant creature, and fired. The round impacted between the second and third segment, leaving a black scorch mark. The giant creature reared back like a snake preparing to strike, and turned towards him, eyes locking onto his position. The ground shook when it dropped back down, and it lumbered towards his position.

Green and Ivan traded looks, then split up. Ivan retreated a hundred yards, taking up a position behind the charred remains of a large tree. Green moved north, unleashing flames as he went, bathing the feasting things in death.

Granddad stopped, looked over the field of battle, and made a loud clicking noise. The smaller things stopped, then grabbed the corpses of the fallen soldiers, and fled. In a surprising burst of speed, Granddad spun, and followed them.

Fifteen minutes later, Maxwell and a thousand reinforcements arrived.

6th of Kusha,

Green and Ivan have brought me a metal canister labeled 'NATO DESIGNATION: GB'. He says that it will kill the things. But that everyone will have to stand back to our original fortifications, or will need a wizard to cast some sort clean air bubble around people. Ivan, although he looked regretful, agreed with him.

7th of Kusha,

Esmeralda, goddess of knowledge, has forbidden NATO GB from being used. She didn't like my response. I hope she likes her vacation.

- - -

Maxwell was sitting at his desk in the command pavilion. It was half an hour after dusk, and he was finishing going over some supply paperwork when an older middle aged gnomish woman walkind in past a pair of frozen guards, and sat down across from him. He recognized her from a library, in the not so distant past.

Looking up at him she spoke, “I will make your life a living hell on this world if you use that gas.”

“Really?” Max laughed at the goddess of knowledge. “You think you could make this living hell worse?” He cackled for a moment, “What are you going to do? Kill my wife again? Make all of my friends age, and die on me?”

She stared at him a moment. “Nothing frightens you any more, does it?”

“Not really.” Max smiled, pulling his revolver from it's holster, and keeping it under the desk. “By the way, I have a present for you in return for that book.”

Taken aback by the sudden change in topic, she raised and eyebrow and asked, “Really?”

“Yes.” Maxwell smiled, then emptied the revolver through the desk, and into her chest. “Guards! Summon Ivan and Green. We have things to discuss.”