The city of Nonalli has fallen, and the Thelgrim peninsula has been overrun by the armies of darkness. Secure in his domination of Thelgrim, Llovar has marched his invasion force northward, preparing an assault on Falladir’s kingdom.
But Falladir’s allies are preparing an assault of their own. An allied force of Elves and Acolytes has set out for Llovar’s citadel. They are attacking on the front Llovar thinks is most secure -- the Char’gr Wastelands. This twisted, evil land is said to be full of demons. It is desperation that drives the allies to attempt an assault through this dangerous region.
The Dragonkin, long a neutral party in the Great War, has fallen into civil war. Oboros Rex is dead, killed by Azaellrog, who has declared himself Draco Rex and allied the Dragons with Llovar. Not all Dragonkin accept Azaellrog’s leadership, however. Many have sided with Ceryx Jade, who has gone into hiding, and are opposing Azaellrog’s forces.
When Llovar learned of Orboros Rex’s death, he requested that Azaellrog bring him the dragon-king’s bones -- “as a trophy,” he said. Azaellrog agreed to the arrangement. He had no use for his enemy’s body, and saw this as an easy way to ingratiate Llovar.
But Llovar has his own agenda. Working with Farrenghast, he has arranged to have Oboros raised from the dead. A lich dragon would weild great power over the Dragonkin, but be under Llovar’s absolute con-trol. Farrenghast and his minions have taken the bones of Oboros to the cursed isle of K’dhokka in the Wastelands, where the border between the living world and the dead is weak. Here, they will raise Oboros.
Azaellrog has caught wind of Llovar’s treachery and has set out to stop the Undead from raising Oboros. Anticipating such a move, Llovar has sent a company of Uthuk warriors to protect the Undead on the island.
But one thing Llovar didn’t count on was the inter-ference of the Elves and Acolytes. The allied armies are making their way through the Wastelands, and have been warned of Llovar’s plans by Timorran. Though their ultimate goal remains the capture of Llovar’s citadel, they have dispatched a small contingent to prevent the resurrection of Oboros. In a strange twist of fate, this makes the Elves and Acolytes temporary allies with the Dragonkin.
Waiqar Sumarion peered over the top of the ridge, keeping low to the ground and trying to remain unseen. At his side was Torvaala Lotharu, commander of the Elf forces. Together, the two of them have led an alliance of Elves and Acolytes into the Char'gr Wastelands.
aiquar and Torvaala surveyed the river beneath them and the small, blasted island at its center. They could see a ring of sickly green bonfires surrounding the bones of the once-great king of the Dragonkin, Oboros Rex. At six points around the massive skeleton were unwholesome figures in robes and armor, droning in the ancient tongue of the necromancer.
We haven't much time until he is raised," hissed Waiqar. "We'll have to attack now, or else Timmoran's warning will be wasted."
The commanders were about to signal their troops to attack when a heavy shadow suddenly passed between them and the sun.
"Dragons," breathed Torvaala. "If our mission was dangerous before, it is now suicide. Look at them! There must be dozens of them!"
To Torvaala's surprise, the mighty winged beasts paid no heed to the allied soldiers beneath them. Instead they banked steeply and dove towards the middle of the river, blasting the island with their fiery breath.
"I told you Timmoran would not abandon us," grinned Waiqar. "He has provided us an ally that none would anticipate. Come! Signal the charge while the skeletons are still reeling!"
The battle that followed will live on for centuries in the songs of bards everywhere. Heartened by the dragons' swift attack, the alliance troops surged ahead, some fording the treacherous river while other soared over the water on wings of magic. It wasn't until they arrived at the island, however, that the alliance realized the Undead were not alone. Before the Elves and Acolytes could react, they found themselves retreating from the arrows and brawn of the Uthuk Y'llan. Driven back by the combined Undead and Uthuk forces, the alliance could do nothing but watch in horror as the Oboros Lich was raised.
leaming with unholy power, the bones of Oboros knit them together with stinking sinew. The creature stretched its fleshless wings, dug its claws into the soil, and slowly rose to its feet. Oboros Lich opened its mouth with a soundless roar that filled the alliance with an unspeakable dread.
Desperation filled Torvaala's voice as he called for a final charge against the beast. "If we are to die today, let us die fighting that... thing, lest we die here in vain!"
The allied forces concentrated their attack on Oboros Lich, all but ignoring the Undead and Uthuk around them. Their arrows, swords, and magic seemed to barely harm the beast, but appeared to be holding it at bay, if only for the moment. That moment was all the Dragonkin needed to launch their own assault on the lich. Fire rained from the sky while smaller dragons swarmed the monster's legs and underbelly. For a few brief, heady, minutes, the Dragonkin, Acolytes, and Elves worked together as a single unit against their common enemy.
The Oboros Lich never left the island.
After the battle, the dragons vanished as quickly as they appeared. Waiqar and Torvaala gathered the alliance survivors and retreated to the ridge. Night fell as the allied troops tended their wounded, mourned the fallen, and celebrated their glorious victory.
It would be the last time any of them would celebrate anything.