Escaping the trap

You break free of the forest some hours later, skirting to the north and risking a dash across open lands into the hills beyond. You see no sign of enemy pursuit, though the you do see several whirling metal devices in the distance. They seem to be concentrating on the forest, not realising the swiftness of your escape. It takes you two more nights of sleeping cold on rough ground, only wrapped in your cloak before you finally locate the elven forces.

Harried by constant raiding parties they have regrouped several times and retreated to an old fortified settlement some distance away. You are rushed to the Queen and her council and are quick to make your full report. There is shock amongst the advisors, and though the Queen would not deign to show anything as base as that, her questions are clearly surprise. But your answers and testimony are indisputable. The rumours of alliance are true. You are able to provide detailed troop assessment, and information on this strange gnomish technology including the flyers which seem to be working as spies somehow. You also report on your betrayal by Alina, which brings more murmurs of distress. You make it clear that you were a target.. perhaps the only real target of the ambush that took place. The Queen immediately orders a register of all 32 elite guards. Finally you report your sightings of tunnels and fortifications, the likely existence of a network of underground connections which worked so well to trap your forces. At this point you are overwhelmed with fatigue and sorrow for all of the lives lost under your command. You are close to collapse when you are dismissed, stumbling to temporary quarters where you sleep for almost a full day.

You are visited by several healers in your sleep though, and several days later when the army rides forth you are commanding a battalion. As you feared, three of your fellow elite guard are missing, taken at some point during the various skirmishes and missions. You can only imagine the reasons behind their abductions.. or deaths. You descend upon the alliance forces like angels of ****. Every sighted flyer is an immediate target for disruption and storm spells, sending them spinning out of the sky. Your forces move so swiftly and in such number that your fury smashes the meagre army which has managed to gather at the site if your battle. Your mages wield fearful magic to collapse every cave and tunnel in sight, and your knights hit the orcish warriors like a hammer blow, destroying them. You fly onward, smashing through the earthworks and factories, eliminating the enemy deep into their territory. It doesn’t escape your notice though that much has been abandoned. It is clear that the true enemy **** is being gathered elsewhere.

The counter-strike comes within weeks, as you expect. The elven army is ready for it and equal to the threat. At first. The elite guard hunts down any powerful units with their powerful magic. But what no one expects is that they swiftly become the hunter. Under cover of magical mist and sowing chaos with gnomish artillery, a band of warlocks enters the field with technology able to penetrate the runic magic of the elite guard tattoos. Almost half of your guard are felled in those terrible hours before a withdrawal and regroup is sounded.

Unfortunately too late for you. You are among the first hit, and you die with a knife between your ribs, with an expression of pain and puzzlement. You never knew what had been done to you or how or magic had been neutralised. The war rages on without you, the **** of the queen inducing the extermination of the orcs. The gnomes poisoning of the heartswood trees met with blood magic and the dark scourge of their mountain homes, causing earthquakes throughout the land for decades to come. Your race becomes harder and crueller, ever more deadly. The future is a dark place. Who knows if you could have made a difference or changed your fate, and that of your world, somehow...