[ WP ] Legends tell of the Elder race who utilized strange `` technologies '' instead of magic . As hordes of brutal killers invade from the north , a young elf heads off to search for ancient ruins , looking for humans ...

The wind blew the grass sideways as did it her hair. She rode horseback down from the hills to an open meadow. It was known as a kind of meeting grounds between the humans and her species. The were more primitive in some regards, she reckoned, but they had the tools she needed to save her people. 
 
 *Come on, dammit, * she thought to her self, as the teleporter remained empty. Cold, obstructingly empty. 
 
 
 `` They are not here,'' she told her people. They had gathered around her, encircling the bonfire at which she stood center. Their eyes were glued upon, burning embers in the reflecting light. 
 
 `` There is no hope for us in borrowing the human's plight. Instead, we must forge our own path.'' Her voice boomed. It was one worth following, and her people felt the same. A man in front of her kneeled before her. Another joined him. She was their chief. She was their commander. And she would lead them out of this war. 
 
 -- 
 
 `` Come to, young one,'' the tall wispy elf spoke. The small child laid in the bed unmoving. Slowly, delicately, the elf moved the sheets above his head. The message was clear. This would have bloody end. 
 
 -- 
 
 `` At times, the greatest civilizations are formed in times of great stress. A sort of coming togetherness that harness the power of each one of us to make us something greater. We are not small. We will fight, and when we do, we will decimate those traiterous dogs that have killed our innocence. You know what this calls for. Each of you, please visit my tent tonight.'' She walked away from the meeting, the crowd parting for her passage. The whispers followed behind her, as she sat on a wooden stool within the tent. They small words were wind, carrying the message as an unstoppable force. 
 
 `` Come in,'' she spoke. A small elf entered. He was gangly arms and overrun white hair, but his face still gleamed with energy. She removed the cloth from the bow in front of her exposing its purple gleam. It sat on the table humming with power, entrancing the man. She dutifully moved his hands for him, placing his palms along the frame of the weapon. She looked up. His eyes were closed in concentration. His breath became ragged as bow grew brighter until, his eyes fluttered open. The hum filled the tent. 
 
 `` Thank you,'' she said as the next elf came in. 
 
 -- 
 The forces approached quickly, the army amassed on a hillside fifty miles out from their position. 
 
 *Good, * she thought. *The closer the better. * 
 
 The day moved uneventfully as her scouts reported the same story. A constant movement forward. They would be at their door in five days. 
 
 `` Does it not concern you, my Majesty, that the brutes advance so quickly? We have no defense, and we barely have a chance. I mean, is it go-,'' he spoke till her face grew blank. 
 
 `` Do you not think I have a plan? What do you believe in, elf? *Us* or them?'' she spoke with disdain. `` Now out of my tent so I can prepare.'' 
 
 -- - 
 
 Their war cries echoed across the fields as the came into view. The daunting force loomed on the horizon with battle imminent. The queen sat among the bushes outside her encampment. She eyed the force. It was sizeable but also within her control. She knockek an arrow into the bow and waited. 
 
 Her breath quickened and her hands shook ever so slightly. Pulling back on the taut string, she aimed and fired. The glowing arrow shot through the air. It's course was set. She followed its descent with her eyes till it fell within the horde. She waited before repeating the process, the time empty her large quiver. 
 
 She eyed her work. Twenty bodies were on the ground, but thousands more progressed forward. She eyed her bow, toying with the thoughts of her actions. Tossing morals aside, she slammed the head of the bow into the earth. A shockwave sprang from the impact knocking all of the soldiers onto the ground. A high pitch squeal followed the tremor. 
 
 *Boom. * 
 
 The army went up in smoke. Despite her doubts, it *did* look cool. 
 
 The smoke cleared and a hole now occupied where the army once stood. She yanked the bow from the soft dirt, hearing the familiar whistle. Her arrows whizzed past her hair and into the quiver. The humans could not have done this for her. 
 
 
 `` Technology is but bad magic,'' she said into the wind.
