Birgitte and the Stone Legion

[pdaskalov]

It all started like a regular day in the capital, Malcolm. The ruler of the land woke up and began his morning routine. One of his first tasks each morning was to check the reports from the night explorers.

On his way to the great hall, however, he noticed something strange. People moved in haste, their hands trembling, voices murmuring in worried tones. The ruler’s mood darkened, and he quickened his pace toward the hall.

One of the explorers stepped forward, pale and trembling.
“I… saw it,” he stammered. “A giant stone monster, covered in magical artifacts. His army was vast, hidden in a mountain cave where only a fraction of ours could enter. And in the depths of that cave, I saw a mountain of black gems—treasure like no other.”

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The ruler did not hesitate. Rulers are remembered for their deeds, after all. He commanded that their finest commander, Birgitte, be summoned.
“She must take our warriors to this mountain at once. Tell her everything, so she can prepare well.”

Birgitte listened carefully to the report. A commander forged in countless battles, she marched straight to her armory. She strapped on her warrior’s sword—a blade that lent her troops unstoppable strength. She gathered artifacts that would keep her army healthy, their defenses unbreakable, and their enemies’ blows weak and clumsy.

She knew she would need overwhelming numbers to breach the cave. A great battle awaited. Ten million warriors answered her call, with two hundred thousand healers and countless carriers for the treasures. With her undead boots, her army would march tirelessly, swiftly, without pause.

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The journey began. Though the mountain was only two kingdoms away, the road seemed endless, time dragging under the weight of dread. They passed through cities where people blessed them, offering prayers and garlands for protection.

At last, they reached the mountain. And then they heard it—the booming voice of the stone monster, echoing from deep within the cave. A blue, radiant set of artifacts gleamed upon its body. Birgitte felt a sudden pull, her energy halved in an instant. She clenched her teeth. This was no ordinary battle.

She gave the signal to charge. Only a fraction of her vast force could squeeze through the cave mouth, but even that fraction thundered forward like a living avalanche.

From the depths poured the monster army: stone-skinned brutes, jagged abominations, and among them the snake-legged mages. Their twisted bodies swayed as they hissed, spreading a sickly aura that blunted every strike. Blades that should have cleaved armor barely scratched. Arrows sank deep but drew shallow wounds. The monsters laughed, emboldened by the foul power.

The first clash was chaos. Steel rang on stone. Healers shouted chants, pouring light into shattered bodies. Yet the enemy would not fall. Warriors faltered, disbelief spreading like fire.

“Target the snake-legs!” Birgitte roared, her sword blazing as she raised it high. Strength surged through her soldiers, who fought their way toward the mages.

But the snake-legs were shielded by hulking guardians, fighting like walls of living rock. Every step forward cost dozens of lives. Healers strained, sweat dripping, voices hoarse. The air was thick with blood, smoke, and despair.

At last, one snake-leg fell—speared through the chest. Its shriek rattled the cavern as its magic collapsed. The monsters around it staggered, their strength faltering. Hope flickered in the warriors’ eyes.

Another snake-leg was slain, then another. Each death lifted the oppressive weight, each collapse making the enemy weaker. Birgitte pressed the advantage.
“Push forward! Break them now!”

The tide turned. Swords cleaved through armor, shields shattered under hammering blows, arrows found their mark. The monsters began to fall in droves. Their formation crumbled, and though they fought with desperation, the flood of warriors was unstoppable.

By the time the last snake-leg hit the ground, the monster army was doomed. Their strength had abandoned them. The cavern shook with the roar of battle, but the outcome was certain: Birgitte’s soldiers carved them down until only the stone giant remained.

The monster commander advanced at last, its every step shaking loose stalactites from above. It swung with crushing force, stone fists shattering the ground. Birgitte dodged swiftly, slipping past the blow. With one sharp thrust, she drove her sword deep into its chest. The giant staggered, roared, then crumbled into rubble.

The army cheered. The monsters were slain.

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Birgitte gathered the survivors, binding them in chains, and led them back to the capital to be trained as soldiers. Carriers scoured the cave, hauling every black gem home.

When the army returned, the gates of Malcolm stood wide. The ruler already knew his greatest commander had triumphed. Villagers welcomed them with cheers, followed by nobles and merchants until the streets were a storm of celebration.

The treasury overflowed with black gems. The ruler rejoiced, promising Birgitte even greater artifacts for battles yet to come. For now, though, good days lay ahead.

The celebrations began at once—cheers rising into the night sky, songs echoing across the city. And soon, the news spread across all lands: Malcolm had triumphed, and Birgitte’s name would be remembered forever.

[freeharika]

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