The ground shook like thunder as the hundreds of Eraman troops marched across the now desolate plains of Bellerophon. Since late fall, the combined forces of Erama, Draco and Makarios have been steadily pushing back the tides of the WitherFrosts' hoards, driving them into the interior of Bellerophon, and back to where their master lay waiting. When the winter storms came, both sides of the struggle held their positions, waiting for the right time to strike. The Armies of the Light, as the united forces became to be called, moved into the various small towns and villages, protecting the inhabitants and local farms, and assisting the small rebel cells that grew out of desperation, and led by a man whose past is as shrouded in mystery as he was.
The winter was long and harsh. In areas most affected by the weather, starvation was rampant. With the threat of death, people turned on on another, stealing and looting from family and friends just so that they could survive the winter. The effects of the bad harvests were also felt in the capitol, as crimes against society rose to a new high. The Emperor, against the Senates' wishes, instituted harsh new regulations to combat the growing crime rate, giving the militia broader powers of arrest, and causing a major unrest within the political body of Erama.
With the coming of the spring, the Armies of the Light once again took to the battlefields, still pushing back the minions of evil. With the Dark General cut off from commanding his forces properly, the WitherFrosts' armies became disorganized and confused, which in turn allowed the combined forced of Erama, Draco and Makarios to turn them back and institute an immediate retreat of the enemy.
Pushing southward, the Armies of the Light finally came to their final destination. Off the southern coast of Bellerophon lay the source of all the problems and trials that plagued the world. The islands that came to be known as WitherFrost Isles lay before them and beyond that, freedom and salvation. The first to land were the Wyvern Riders of Draco, fearsome soldiers encased from head to toe in the robes and armor of their office, casting the magic given to them by their gods, and clearing a path for the foot soldiers to land their makeshift boats and ships. Arrows and bolts of light arced across the early morning sky, finding their marks as soldiers and wyvern riders fell to their deaths. Magical explosions ripped apart the beaches and the ground as the Armies of Light made their way into the interior. Creatures of all sorts and sizes made their presence known as they charged out of the woods and forest surrounding the fortress of the WitherFrost. The screams of men and women dying and fighting for their lives could be heard for miles around and the sky was alive with the tell tale trails of magic spells and weapons.
Then the unthinkable happened, and the Armies of the Light realized that they were tricked and walked into a trap. From behind they came, creatures of unimaginable horror, all mutated and created by the WitherFrosts' unholy magic. At one time these creatures might have been docile and afraid of the race of man, but now, twisted and deformed, this new threat only knew destruction. Not only did the Armies of the Light have to contend with the battle in front of them, they also had to deal with what was behind them.
The battle seemed to be lost. The light was fading in the face of evil. Mages and theomancer gave their all, to stem the tide, and soldier and fighters alike held what ground they could. Overhead a contingent of wyverns and their riders flew towards the fortress of the WitherFrost, disappearing in the smoke and flames of battle. A cry went out for a miracle, and the prayers for salvation were answered. In the distance, shapes in the air became to take on form and recognition. Draconian Airships, laden down with elven archers, Dragoon knights and soldiers, rained down upon the newly created wastelands of WitherFrost Isle, joining in the fray and giving the well worn Armies of the Light a needed boost. Once again the fight began anew and raged on into the early evening when it suddenly stopped.
From behind and in the distance towards the Fortress, a blinding flash, as bright as ten suns, burned through the smoke and the flames. Rock and timber sprayed in all directions, impaling and crushing members from each army, and the clap of thunder that accompanied the flash seemed to echo throughout eternity. A huge stream of magical light and energy poured out of the now smoldering ruins of the Fortress, pulsating into the air as waves crashing on the shore. Suddenly, and without warning, strange things began to happen. First and foremost was the effect that the explosion seemed to have on the enemy. All the creatures of darkness and all what remained of the WitherFrosts armies fled into the surrounding islands and forests and mainland, dropping what weapons they had, as if realizing that they were now all doomed to extinction. The mutated and twisted creations of the WitherFrost also went under a magical transformation, restoring them back to what they originally were. Magic users were forced to the ground and screamed in anguish, as if some great hand were ripping them apart from the inside.
No one could move for hours. By then the smoke had cleared, letting the sunset of the day pour through. Those who could move, made their way and cleared a path through the carnage and destruction that lay before them. As soldiers entered and searched the towers and battlements of the fortress, they discovered that this base of operations went deep underground. As they explored, they found the remains if the WitherFrost in the bowels of the fortress in amongst the debris of what seemed to be a great altar, decorated with tributes and sacrifices to the Goddess, Chaos. The chamber was in great disarray, as broken magical items and burned scrolls littered the floor. Signs of a great struggle could be easily seen and pointed out, as large circular holes dotted the ground, like footprints. The most impressive sight however was the large blasted out wall that housed a hollow chamber, decorated and inscribed with runes and magical writing, charred black from the explosion.
Immediately, runners and flyers were dispatched to Draco, Erama and Makarios to spread the word. In the weeks to come, the Eraman Emperor would send a small force to restore peace in Bellerophon and bring that dutchy back under Eraman control. A task force of mages, shamans and theomancers hand picked by the Inner Council was sent to WitherFrost Isle to study the markings and discover why such a chamber was made, to see what the effects of such strange magic would have on the area, and to salvage what knowledge they could. The Eraman emperor, in order to maintain and protect the economy, declared that a single unit of currency, the gold solidus, would be established, and that Bellerophon was once again under Eraman control. In Makarios, news of this "conquest" made the inhabitants uneasy and on guard. Afraid that Erama might seize this opportunity to regain control of their homeland, King Stephan has given more funding to the rightly feared Black Horse Squadron and Makarian Ranger corps, to recruit and train more soldiers to defend their lands. In Draco, the five King priests have once again selectively closed their borders to the rest of the world, content in their knowledge that they earned their independence from Erama. The time for rebuilding and healing is due.
The war was over.