Highvale Family/Gareth/Third Battle of Evora

The air hung heavy with the scent of blood and charred wood, a grim reminder of our previous failures at Evora. The Emerald Blades, their eyes, once bright with youthful bravado, were now clouded with a weary acceptance of their fate. Yet, a flicker of defiance, a refusal to yield without a fight, remained. They had seen their comrades fall, felt the sting of Perdani arrows, and tasted the bitterness of retreat. But they rallied to me nonetheless, their loyalty unwavering. This was our third attempt to wrest control of Evora, and despite the odds stacked against us, we would face what would come with courage, though others might call it stupidity. Our numbers were few, our wounds still fresh, but the flame of defiance burned brightly within us. We were Shadowdale's sons, and we would fight for our queen until our last breath.

The sun, a crimson disc sinking towards the horizon, cast long shadows across the battlefield, painting the scene in hues of orange and red. The Perdani host, unable to utilize the destroyed palisade for cover, awaited us in the open field, their ranks bristling with spears and swords. With a battle cry that echoed across the plains, we charged. The Emerald Blades, a mere shadow of their former glory, surged forward, their swords flashing in the sunlight. We knew this may be our last stand, but we would make it one to be remembered in the annals of Shadowdale.

The Perdani archers, their aim deadly as ever, unleashed a volley of arrows that darkened the sky. We pressed on, our ranks thinning with every step. I felt a burning pain in my leg as an arrow found its mark, but I refused to fall. The cries of my men fueled my rage, their courage a beacon in the chaos of battle. Yet, our valor could not overcome the sheer weight of the Perdani numbers. One by one, my Emerald Blades fell, their lifeblood seeping into the parched earth. Soon, I stood alone, my sword broken, my body wracked with pain. The Perdani, wary of our Shadowdale steel, hesitated to approach. But their arrows continued to fly, each one a testament to our futile struggle. As darkness crept into my vision, a horn sounded – the signal to retreat.

I staggered back, the taste of defeat bitter on my tongue. The Emerald Blades were no more, their legacy now etched in the blood-soaked soil of Evora. Yet, as I was carried away, I saw not defeat in the eyes of my rescuers, but something resembling pride. We had fought valiantly, against insurmountable odds, and we had done so with honor. We limped back to our lands, battered and bruised, but with a fire still burning in our hearts. Shadowdale had been dealt a harsh blow, but we were far from broken. The spirit of the Emerald Blades lived on, a flickering ember waiting to be fanned back into a roaring flame.

-Firsthand account of Gareth Highvale