Editing Count Joe Kürbisgärtner (section)

==The Dark Elf Incursion==

The bordering town that rubs shoulders with the Many Acres has flourished from the Count's kindness. However... No other race loves healthy Empire citizens more than Dark Elves.

One fell night the Dark Elves moved into the city, dispatching the lightly armed guards with sinister efficiency. Thankfully a quick-minded Patrolman threw a torch in a high arc, the flaming bundle landing within the wheat of the field that lay just within reach. The Patrolman was cut down like a dog, but his death was not in vain: A scarecrow, sensing an attack on his plot, had stalked up to the torch, wary of its burning embers. It cocked its head when it heard a blade being shoved through flesh, and saw the town under attack. With a startled skip, it took off down the fields to warn the count.

In the town things were looking grim; the Dark Elves had rounded up the villagers, stripping them naked and tying them to poles for transport. Corsairs tossed babies in the air, catching them on swords while footsoldiers broke open kegs and drowned the weaker men in the frothy beer. Cries and sobs echoed in he night, filling the starry air with sorrow and pain. There was however, a noise; a noise that caused the Dark Elves to stop their gleeful slaughter and look up into the quickly cooling air. Fog moved in over the walls, crawling along the ground, the fingertips of the Count's rage that echoed into the sky.

The first attack was abrupt. As soon as the echo of the Count's challenge stopped, the scarecrows leapt the walls under the cover of the fog. Sentries posted on the walls cried out, but were cut abruptly short as taloned hands sliced through necks and bowels, spraying viscera on the clean parapets. The veteran soldiers and common ground troops rallied to the center of the town, dropping their prisoners and leaving them to their doom. Scarecrows bounded over the walls and rooftops, quickly dispatching the archers in their little roosts. With this completed, the Skeletons began their advance, quietly coming out from the fog in iron-willed silence. The Dark Elves panicked as the Skeletons marched past the helpless townsfolk, their gilded armor and mail clean and perfect, but silent-- not even the softest "chink" to be heard. Then with a terrible screech the Skeletons tore into the Dark Elves, scythes and swords cutting them down as if it were just another day in the field. Finally, with a challenging roar Joe came cutting in through the Skeleton ranks, thrusting the fork of his great weapon into the Elves still standing. The squalls of Elves changing into trees could be heard over the screeching of the Skeletons as their skin gnarled into wood and limbs twisted painfully.
Then the leader of the Dark Elves grabbed Joe's son, placing his barbed sword to the young boy's neck. Joe stared at the Elf holding his boy hostage, his pitchfork glowing a sharp green in the night. Then Joe smiled, flicking the pitchfork into a spear position and chucking it into the throat of the Elf. His boy slipped away, running back to his mother as the Elf began to silently scream into the night.

As soon as it began, it was over. All that was left of the Dark Elves and the Undead warriors were bloodstains on the streets and the small grove of trees in the middle of the square.