The sylvan army marched away, venturing out of their protective forests to join the gathered hosts of elves opposing Despana. After the initial skirmishes, the fighting became constant and the land was torn by battles fought between the elven allies and Despana's terrible host of orcs, trolls and barbaric humans. Crops rotted in fields, hamlets burned and as winters counted off their months of dismal cold, people starved.
As the years passed, Oriahn sent irregular missives back to Nevishrim bearing less than hopeful news. These were sent via trusted members of the Eranishal who followed a long, convoluted path aimed at protecting Nevishrim from outside knowledge of its location. For the long, arduous years that the sylvans fought with the elven army, no sylvan other than the Eranishal messengers was allowed to return to Nevishrim. This hardship, over and above the horrors they witnessed on the battlefields, was what survivors of the conflict later claimed was the worst sorrow of fighting in that war. Back in Nevishrim, as years passed, new recruits were trained and sent away from the harboring forest to join Oriahn's sylvan troops. These were always sent out with much ceremony, as well as much sorrow since the people considered it likely they would never return. On the battlefield, Oriahn had formed a horse guard, having received good warhorses from other elven units who admired the sylvans' tenacity and courage. Oriahn trained up a cavalry, which augmented his archers and foot soldiers. The sylvan legion, called the Wood Guard among the ranks in deference to their strength, was stout and brave and carried many a day in battles through those harsh years. In -15,195, allied with a top-notch army of Faendryl elves, the Eranishal legions managed to rout a significant portion of Despana's hordes at the Battle of Harradahn. This pivotal conflict seemed to turn the tide, as Despana's army slowed to recover their dead and wounded, then began to retreat. The combined elven troops followed them, harassing their flanks and driving them on. The wounded and dead were abandoned as Despana's troops fled, and the Faendryl took these and made use of them, prying information from them. As the autumn of -15,188 cooled into winter, the sylvan army joined their Faendryl allies on wooded slopes surrounding the valley on which Maelshyve Keep stood. Despana's army was spread out across the valley floor below, still numbering in the tens of thousands. It seemed an impossible force to the war-weary sylvan soldiers. During the war council prior to battle, Oriahn was told that the elves had planned a magical assault that would leave Despana's army open to attack. Oriahn was to sweep in with his army and rout any legions that escaped the magical battery. That seemed a relief to Oriahn, knowing the extent of his troop's exhaustion. As he sat his warhorse in the first line of the Eranishal, he watched the Faendryl sorcerers advance onto the field. As the lesser demons were summoned into existence and spread across the valley, their fiendish howls raising clouds of crows and sending wildlife streaking in all directions, the warhorses reared in panic, throwing some of their riders to the ground. The screams of the orcs and trolls were soon echoing off the surrounding hills, creating a chaotic din that swept the Eranishal into its embrace. Sylvans who had been thrown from their mounts tried to quickly regroup, and the effort seemed to be working for a brief time. Then, the first of the Faendryl sorcerers lost control of the terrible creatures they had called. With so many of the sorcerors never having cast the spell before that day, and in such a vast context, it was inevitable that some would falter and lose concentration. While most of the attacking demons stayed on course and devoured their way through Despana's armies, a few suddenly looped back, bearing down upon the elven host. Two demons, kin in fire and fury, found the sylvan army. These terrors engulfed most of one of the three companies of the Eranishal, spouting great gouts of flame that enveloped the soldiers in a horrible, fiery death. As the demons flew on across the hills, incinerating stands of trees as well as animals and fleeing horses, Oriahn could do naught but witness his men scream and die. The fact that there were no surviving enemies to rout was an empty consolation. The Faendryl seemed as stunned as their allies, and made no attempt to contact the sylvans following the battle of Maelshyve. Other allies also withdrew and, in coming weeks, seemed to drift away. All who had witnessed the holocaust seemed to exist in a stunned, depressed fog. After five days, Oriahn called a meeting of his commanders. He told them that they would be packing up the following day and returning home to Nevishrim. Not even that happy news could stir the company out of their malaise. However, in an army, discipline triumphs over emotion, and the army began the homeward trek. They crossed hills and valleys, traveling quietly. No track was left to show where they had passed, and there was little conversation among them to mark the passing of hours, days and weeks. Oriahn wondered if he remembered the way back after all the time that had passed, and was glad that he had scouts who had made the journey now and then through the years. As the Eranishal approached a tall hill, scouts brought word to Oriahn that there was an unnatural quality about the landmark, foremost being the fact that there had not been, to anyone's memory, a hill there before. Oriahn called his mages to him, a select band that had helped greatly in shielding the sylvan army from the fire demons. These individuals ventured out toward the promontory, wielding spells of protection as they went. They soon returned, having gathered hints about the oddness of the hill. These wizards had encountered the same malevolent fluctuations in the fundamental magical power once before, at Maelshyve. It was deduced that one of the demons had escaped over the lands and taken refuge in the strange, black hill. And had probably made the hill, judging from its extreme angles and sheer cliffs. Erosion could never have created such a landmark. Oriahn's whole being cried out for him to order his army to silently withdraw from this cursed place and find another way back home. However, as dawn began to tinge the landscape from grey to soft morning colors, he knew he could not leave the monster skulking safe within its lair, free to kill again once it was hungry enough. He ordered his troops to withdraw across a wide valley and take shelter on a mountainside far enough away for safety. He left orders that the army was to withdraw and journey on to Nevishrim within three days time, whether he had returned or not. And taking a guard of three soldiers, he set out to confront the enemy. The sylvan army was too far away from the terrible hill to see any of the battle. However, lightning flashed across the sky and the ground rumbled and shook during the following night. Dawn of the second day brought an uneasy quiet, although plumes of dense smoke drifted up from the hill and filled the sky around it. And that night, the lightning and the tremors resumed. The following morning was as quiet as had been the day before, likewise with columns of smoke rising from the promontory. The soldiers were restive, having slept little as a result of worry for their general as well as fears born of their last encounter with a demonic entity. As the sun rose into the sky, a sharp-eyed scout sent up a yell. Two dots could barely be seen crossing the valley floor, traveling toward them from the hellish hill. A cadre of the general's personal guard set out at a run to meet them, although the returning survivors were yet miles away. As the party finally arrived back, two soldiers were carrying the unconscious body of Oriahn while Nepheral, his bard and one of the three chosen companions, was supported between two other men. Healers quickly took charge of Oriahn, while Nepheral was questioned as to whether the beast lived. They also questioned whether it was safe for the army to remain there while the healers tended Oriahn's grievous wounds. Bearing considerable injuries as well, Nepheral managed to stammer out that the demon had been slain. The other two companions had died in the battle. With that, Nepheral slipped into unconsciousness and was hurried away to the healers' tent. The Eranishal camped on the slopes of that valley for a month, it being judged too dangerous to move Oriahn during that time. Finally, a litter was fashioned to carry the commander and the army made ready to travel. Despairing of their ability to save their leader, the army empaths hoped to reach Nevishrim with its resources of experienced healers and stores of medicinal plants. As the army reached the edges of the great forest that sheltered Nevishrim, scouts were sent ahead to alert the city. The remainder of the troops followed more slowly, bearing their commander on his litter. He had never regained consciousness, wandering in a feverish haze of delirium and occasionally calling out and talking to people he saw within his darkness. After journeying for two weeks through the forest, barely stopping to rest, the army met the advance group of sylvans sent to aid them on the final miles of their long journey home. The litter was handed off to individuals who were fresh and the exhausted soldiers were given illistery, a light sylvan drink that drove away fatigue, aches and pains, leaving one refreshed and energized. As the army marched silently through the gates of Nevishrim, the city's whole population was gathered around the arched entrance to greet them. However, the throng was utterly silent, with only the soldiers' footsteps and an occasional clank of steel and rustle of cloth to be heard. Then, whispered welcomes were voiced, as families found and reclaimed their own, and the proud sylvan legions disbanded, fraying quietly away like wisps of smoke. The litter bearing Oriahn approached the gate. Suddenly, the general awoke and looked at his litter bearers, surprisingly with a coherent expression. He ordered them to stop just beneath the arch of the gate leading into the city, and set his litter down. They obeyed and his closest advisors drew close. With an expression of inestimable sorrow and deep weariness born of his years of service, he told them to raise the city's population as soon as possible and journey away from that place. He told them to seek seven great trees and there build a new home, away from the Cities of Elves and from war and greed. When they begged him to not talk and save his strength, he told them that he would never reenter the city, since to do so would risk bringing the shard of evil within him to his people. And a few moments later, he died.
