Pater Smerve stood up in his stirrups to see over the heads of the front lines. Being a druid, he looked upon the small community, and they were small in more than just numbers, as his flock. He was a brownie, and sat astride a giant frog, two feet long. His flock were a mix of fey creatures; brownies, pixies, faeries, all living in the High Forest. They had suffered for years with the constant threats and violence from the evil alchemist Garegamel. Finally having enough, the fey community joined with the other small villages in the forest to put an end to the mage once and for all.
Jaime Farstrider, backwoodsman, fur trapper and "all around best satyr o' the woods" to hear him admit, had came forward to help the other villages band together with the feys for the overthrow. These villages were tiny, did not appear on almost any map and for the most part, did not even have names. Garegamel had imposed taxes, to provide for his protection, and had demanded a yearly "donation" of a young maiden. It wasn't known what happened to the girls but all agreed that it was nothing good, as they were never seen again.
Pater knew his people's part. They were to provide distraction as the main force of leprechauns and elves hammered at the mage's defences. He knew that many, if not most, of his people would die, but with the blessing of Sylvanus, there'd still be enough flock to persevere and thrive. Pater looked deeply into the eyes of his people and they looked back at them. He saw a myriad of emotions; fear, hate, resolve. He understood and felt all of that himself. He allowed himself a little smile as many of the fey followed in his footsteps and had painted their skin a deep blue, from a paste made from common berries they'd found. Eyes brimming with tears, he could hear the sounds of battle just starting. Fiery explosions, screams of pain and ringing of metal filled the warm air.
Raising the sickle made from a sharped jawbone, Pater turned his mount towards the wizard's tower and led his people to freedom...