The last, and perhaps most vital, piece within the gallery stood directly before him. Like the others, it was a painting, and like the one that depicted Elvenheim and the World Tree, it shared the same towering dimensions. Yet where that piece radiated life and reverence, this one was steeped in something much more horrific.
At its center was a solitary pillar of white, the main focus of the painting.
Countless species were etched into the lower portion of the canvas, locked in brutal conflict. Elves loosed golden arrows while Dark Elves lunged at their throats with black daggers. A dwarf swung a colossal axe against a duergar's reinforced hammer. An orc and a demi-human clashed barehanded, teeth bared, muscles straining. A lamia drove a spear through the chest of a merman. And beyond them, countless other battles raged. There were some species Alan failed to recognize as well.
It was war, unmistakably so.
