Luc’s tome, a massive thousand-page description of a single spell, was somewhat of a burden in battle. Before fully entering the town, Luc created a deep hole in the ground, placed the spellbook inside, and sealed it there. He noted its location carefully.
Beyond the planks of reinforced, heavy wood that comprised the town wall, signs of life had finally begun to show. Soldiers previously resting had awoken, workers had stopped loading up wagons with supplies, and what few civilians remained were being moved to the back of town, toward an emergency exit which would bring them underground for several miles – its exit was closer to Eluriand and behind a nearby hill. They had weapons and training on their side, but Luc had an arsenal of spells and the elements on his.
He whispered incantations to himself as he scanned the town, covering himself with a Stoneskin shield, improving his eyesight and blessing his speech; it didn’t hurt to be prepared. The town buildings were made of fine elven wood, each roof coated with a glasslike substance that protected from the elements. Such elegance reflected that typical elven pride – Luc was happy to imagine the wood burning.
“By the entrance!” he heard a call in the distance. He was standing in between two huge slabs of wood, remains of the destroyed doorway. With his new and improved eyesight, Luc watched as the elves rallied together near the center of the city, making a quick plan before they moved forward.
Luc focused on the ground below them. In a sudden explosion of raw power, a pointed spire erupted among them, casting bodies violently aside as it shot upward dozens of feet into the sky. Now, suddenly, the town had a central tower of earthen rock, a beacon to all who might approach.
He used the diversion to his advantage, drawing his sword once more and igniting it. He slashed left, then right, sending arcs of flame onto nearby buildings, using his magic to have the flames grow even more hungry and hot.
Finally they came, rounding corners and rushing the entrance from different angles. Luc wasn’t deep enough into the city, yet, for them to get behind him. They drew swords and bows, the ranged fighters stopping as the melee warriors rushed past; many of them were untrained for battle, but they all had the resolve. They would not ask questions, not in these times and not to a man who held a sword which was on fire.
Before they had a chance to strike, Luc spun his sword above his head, sending a ring of fire outward from his location. It grew wide and high, forcing the sword-wielders to shield their faces, forcing the archers to retreat temporarily. When the flames died down and they renewed their approach, many were shocked to see that Luc was no longer there.
He had used his Windwalk spell, transforming his solid body into wind and soaring to the opposite end of the town, where he materialized. There was nobody here, so he had time. Sheathing his sword once again, Luc manipulated the earth between himself and the city wall, erected a huge slab of stone and mud which he hardened and shaped. In seconds he had created a fifteen-foot tall golem, hardened its body into a steel-strength dirt and given it all the appropriate appendages of a humanoid. When he was satisfied, Luc muttered an incantation and the beast began to rumble and move. He had given it life.
“Destroy the city, golem,” Luc commanded. “Flatten the buildings, smash the walls, and kill any being which tries to stop you. Except for me, of course.”
It gave no indication that it understood, as it was unable to speak and Luc had neglected to give it a neck with which to nod its head. Luc had to be satisfied with its sudden response, as it violently slammed a long, stone arm into the nearest building.
He drew his sword yet again, ignited it, and began to set the rest of the town aflame.