The Sunless Lands Story

The two armies, if one could even call a group of less than 60 men an army, were now pinned in a hilly, open area of forest. Both positioned opposite each other, a small valley separating them, forming an oval deathtrap. Any who made to climb over were killed, quickly tumbling down to their end. A steep hill blocked the Ferelden from going any further, any who tried to climb were met with arrows. The civilians could only huddle against trees, hiding behind them, praying they would be overlooked. The battle would be decided here…..and that’s where they stayed...three weeks of endless horror.

The rain had not stopped, it slicked the grass and churned the dirt creating a thick, dark mud. The groups were only separated by a few yards, so close they could see the whites of each others eyes. The fighting had been hard, devastating and ceaseless, with no end in sight and no sign of reinforcements, they were well and truly alone. The situation was not helped by odd sounds coming from the woods and the trees seeming to move out of the corner of the eye. The terror was added to by the fact that most of the senior command was dead, leaving the soldiers with no leadership to guide their actions.

Now both sides just sat and waited in cover, but to what end.

What do you do when all the good men are dead.

It was silent as a baby cried its last in its mother's arms, overcome by hunger and exposure to the cold.

“The veil! It’s tearing!” a hooded man stood from among the refugees, pointing a bony finger over The Pit. Sure enough the area began to shift, like gossamer in a gentle breeze, exposing a world only mages had been, as clawed black hand slipped in…...