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It was a beautiful summer night, complete with warmth, a cool and fragrant breeze, a full moon, and a large group of creeping goblins. The small Nether creatures stealthily slithered through the thick evergreen forest, weapons in hand, keeping to the slightly overgrown animal trails.

One of the goblins turned to its fellows, his white needle-like teeth bright against his dark green skin, and motioned them forward with a small dagger he held in one wiry, long-fingered hand. They slid past him in single file without a whisper and the one with the dagger took up rear guard.

A distant keening scream halted them. A drake on patrol, flying far overhead, was the obvious source. The goblins looked upwards fearfully, shifting their bare feet, until the one with the dagger started prodding them and urging them in cackling, coarse whispers to go on. They reluctantly continued on their way, now even quieter than before, until the flicker of firelight could be seen through the foliage. One of the goblins was sent ahead along the winding animal trails, to see their enemies and test for magical wards. There was no real safe way for a goblin to test for a magical defense; they had no innate magical tendencies. The scout would walk about the camp, poking around, until he stumbled into one. If he didn't return another would be sent. He, like the rest of the goblin war party, was expendable.

A few minutes later the scout returned, victorious; he was grinning in his predatory goblin way, his dark eyes alight and gleaming with the reflections of the distant flames. He murmured hoarsely to the one with the dagger that no wards were there, but that they still must be careful of the patrolling drake overhead. They were lucky so far, but the drake could pose a problem.

The goblins walked on. They circled the enemy camp slowly until they could smell their enemies, but, due to a thin bubble of Nether magic, could not be smelled themselves. The goblins had not noticed it, but all sounds had gone from the forest. No bats squeaked, no owls hooted, and no crickets chirped. Only the crackle of the fire could be heard.

The one with the dagger turned to his fellows once again, his eyes greedy and wild, and told them of the great feast of blood and bone they would enjoy when their enemies were slain. Some of them bobbed their little warty heads, some simply grimly checked their weapons. One among them, a cloaked shaman who supported the Nether spells about the party, did nothing but stare mindlessly toward the light of the flames.

The one with the dagger stepped behind a fallen tree and hunched down, while the others followed suit. The clearing was there, less than a dozen body-lengths away. He held up his small weapon with a scrawny arm, careful not to let the light of the flame catch it. Behind the party, a dark cloud obscured the ivory orb of the moon, casting the world into darkness. The breeze suddenly picked up; it whistled past their ears and sent sparks trailing from the fire before them, flowing upwards into infinity to merge with the stars.

With a short screech the goblin leader lowered his arm and leapt over the mossy log, charging at the forefront of his party toward the firelight. Beside him his score of warriors wailed shrilly as he did, readying their clubs, battle maces, and edged weapons. Behind him his half-dozen range attackers loaded their slings and knocked their arrows as they ran. He hissed wildly as a dark-clothed elf stepped into view, one of the camp's sentries. The tall, pointy-eared server of The Spur was just opening his mouth to raise the alarm when a crude arrow flew over the lead goblin's head and took him through the throat. The immortal fell with a gurgle and spray of scarlet mist. The archer who had slain him fell upon the elf and tore his eyes out ceremoniously before continuing into the camp. Somewhere far above the drake screamed again, and the goblins cursed their luck; a drake around could ruin things for them. Fortunately it wouldn't be able to get down from its elevation very quickly; if it dove too fast it would hit the trees. It had to come down in a large spiral, and by that time the goblins would have already dispatched the rest of the enemies.

Now the main part of the war party had reached the fire. A large human man was rising on the other side, still undressed and drawing his long, awkward sword, but he was not quick enough in his attempts. The goblin with the dagger ran straight for him and stabbed the wicked blade into his side. He fell with a gasped curse as the Nether creature kept moving, drawing another dagger from his loincloth as he tore past.

Suddenly the world went black and with a whoosh of shredded air a winged shadow smashed into the lead goblin. Sharp, dark claws raked his unprotected back as he fell, and he rolled and screamed for help from his allies. He caught a glimpse of dark bodies fallen in the grass.

The drake had kept moving, carried by its momentum, and was now rising up above the trees again. He saw sling stones shoot past it. It was a better flyer than the goblins had dared fear. The leader rose with a wild hiss as thick, warm blood dripped down his back. He was lucky it hadn't taken his spine along with the rest of his skin. He searched for his dagger and could not find it in the long grass.

A long, raging howl was heard from the opposite side of clearing, and a massive snow-white form charged from the shadows towards the melee. A lesser Spur Beast, it bristled with ivory spikes and thick white wool. Its long tail was scaled like a dragon from rump to end, spiked at the tip, and swinging wildly. The creature was upon the goblins before they could react, and it tore through them, brushing them into the woods and a few into the fire. It turned its sharp eyes toward the lead goblin, and stamped a big blunt foot in warning.

The drake plummeted from the sky again, this time behind the lead Nether warrior. The goblin turned, eyeing his adversary carefully as it hovered there, defying gravity. A miniature dragon, its silver scales glowed with the firelight. One or two had been damaged, whether from sling stone, arrow, or blade, the goblin knew not. Its eyes were red rubies against the dark as it peered into the one with the dagger's narrowed eyes.

The goblin knew he could not escape this fate, and screeched his defiance of the Spur as the drake beat its big wings and threw itself at him. He raised his little fists, preparing himself for the Spur's strike, but it never came. A wave of darkness shook the arena all of a sudden, and the drake burst into blue-black flames and spiraled screaming into its master, the lesser Spur Beast. With an otherworldly howl the Spur Beast batted its servant's smoldering corpse aside, and turned toward a new adversary.

The demon had arrived suddenly, blending into being out of the darkness of the forest. Its eyes were flaming slits, and as it stalked towards the Spur and the now-roaring fire more of it came into view; huge black wings, thick muscular clawed arms. The reek of death surrounded the monstrosity. It was easily just as large as the Spur Beast, and radiated a deep, menacing red, though it somehow shed no light. The Beast, by comparison, was like a miniature sun, standing in the darkness, its perfectly white muscular form rippling with every breath of body and wind. The rivals eyed each other, searching for weakness in the other, and preparing their massive magics for the battle.

The remainder of the goblin war party stood aside; their part in this feud had come to an end. Several goblin-shaped heaps spotted the dark forest floor, and one of the little nether creatures hunched by the blazing flames was less an arm.

A rumble shook the forest, and the goblins shrieked in wild excitement as their master leapt to the attack. A massive pair of black wings encircled the Spur Beast, blocking its light. Arms reached out, desperate and grasping from the darkness within the Demon, and the Spur Beast, suddenly trapped, roared in dismay as it was held close by the thick shaggy coat. Clawed arms started to tear into its thick hide, and the white one escaped by unleashing a spur ripple, suddenly shimmering into existence on the opposite side of the blaze, blackened and panting. The Demon turned slowly, wisps of flame trailing from its red eyes as it folded its dark wings back behind itself. The Spur Beast reared up onto its hind legs and then fell hard on its huge paws, and a ray of terrible, white-hot flaming light flew from the blaze, smashing into the Demon and scattering his servants. With a coughing roar the Beast followed through by scattering the contents of the fire towards them with its thickly scaled tail. The Demon was prepared for this second strike, and leaped over the flying sparks, screaming with the voices of a thousand tormented souls. The spur warrior fell back, sputtering and hissing like a feral cat, and charging more of its magic, but it was not quick enough. The demon, sensing he had not much time, raised its huge arms. It seemed to grow in size exponentially as it loomed over the Spur Beast, and a horrible net of pure, burning souls flew from it and entrapped the Spur. The white one shreiked and threw its magic wildly about its prison, but to no avail. The dark one brought down its clawed arms and slashed the Spur accross the wide back, drawing a power symbol out of blood on the noble beast. The white one fell in a heap, and the goblins closed in.