Open Chronicles Felling the Forest

[Fauna]

Heat. Terrible heat. Great fear followed by pain... and then nothing. The base sensations and the silent cries of the animals nearby penetrated into Fauna's concentration. It hurt, and the great web of life flickered as their concentration wavered. They had to keep going, they were too far to stop now.

The cocoon, now wreathed in flames, continued to grow but its progress was slowed. Volos' magic was powerful, and while the plant and fungal material multiplied rapidly it was being burned away half as quickly. How long would it hold out? The great mass continued to grow, now an obvious and massive tumor atop the tree. As it did its walls would thin, and the heat would penetrate further.

Its weight was too great for the burning tree to bear, and as its wood turned to ash the trunk split and sent its canopy and Fauna crashing to the earth. Here in the underbrush the flames were hotter, and the cocoon began to hiss and steam as its moisture was stripped away.

Fauna had little energy to devote to speech, still trying desperately to maintain their focus. They sent a message to any within range, friend and foe alike. A weak, pleading thought in their moment of total dependence.

|Too... hot|

If the flames of the cocoon were not doused soon the spirit would need to abandon its transformation or perish. Aborting at this point would be dangerous, but Fauna had no desire to burn alongside the trees.

 

[Favashi]

Laughter chimed out across the battlefield.

It soared on the wind and crackled in the hearts of flames. It reverberated in the Earth and it whispered like a lovers caress in the ears of those who fought. The laughter of the Fae of War had a different impact on everybody it touched. For some, it would cause a chill to steal over their hearts for within that laugh they heard the song of their death. For others, it would spark resilience and strength and their souls, lend strength to their arms and renewed energy to their tired limbs.

The Fae of War walked the battlefield with unbound glee.

Not everyone would see her of course. Only those with the Sight, and a strong gift at that, would be able to see her as she walked barefoot between the dead, dying or fighting. She cut a startling figure. Red skirts pooled and dragged across the floor the shade of blood and a trick of the material made it look like the liquid itself. It was slashed apart around her legs, torn and tattered as if she had ripped the fabric in order to fight easier. Her torso was garbed in an ancient, golden breast plate and silvery maille that looked more like jewellery than serviceable on the field. A sword made from the stuff of songs sat upon her hip, the tip almost dragging in the grass behind her. On her head she wore a gleaming golden helmet with a red plume of feathers that trailed down to her mid back.

Occasionally the Fae of War let herself be seen even by those with mortal eyes. Most hardened soldiers knew of Favashi. She favoured men and let them die in the span of seconds. It was said she would carry some herself over to the other side and glory. It was also said she enjoyed to collect the blood of the fallen for her baths.

Most were in agreement it was never a good omen to see her on the field.

Favashi was a fickle fae. Her allegiances were countable on a single hand and her passion was bloodshed and pain. She would do what she wanted to either side who displeased her more to get more of what she wanted.

War.

 

[Callarn]

As an attaché of House Urahil, Callarn's name carried considerable respect with none of the power he felt he was owed. And even this respect was of an empty sort, a hacked veneer over a hatred very much intended to be noticed. How typically haughty for these Virak sorts! But having no love for House intrigue, and harboring for Elise nothing more than a passing respect for her brave choices of attire, Callarn had mostly endured his time among the Viraks with ample Allirian wine and black opium. And their taste in books? Horrible.

"I hate." he announced to the world, leaving a building into which he had corraled a number of peasants. He had to pull rank on a couple of soldiers, but all inside would certainly survive this, yes? They were otherwise free to run to their deaths among the shrubbery.

Speaking of which, there were all sorts of nasty critters coming from the woods, along with man-eating plants and knife-ears. Druids hollered heresies and adding to the noise were arrows, fireballs, squirrels... One of the latter found its end at the end of Callarn's rapier. In sight of many a herbivore, the Dreadlord bit the head off the rodent, chewing on it loudly.

The beasts ran.

A triumphant Callarn spat out the head gristle, gagging a bit but otherwise continuing in a very stern path of prodding, poking and impaling. His blade pierced the throat of an elf, then another, then another, and the three limp bodies all were fed to magical fire. A figure resembling a man, all made of light, would rise and then spill on the trees as a wave of heat.

"I thought they bred at a slower pace than us." he remarked to Wulfric - Wulfy - as he brushed past."Then again buggering might be their only past-time in the forest. Stiff upper lip, lad, and see that you get me a good haunch of rabbit." Callarn disappeared as suddenly as he appeared, lost in the bloodshed and most certainly trying to think up some sigils. Ergregore, Egregore, Egregore, always the Egregore! Better keep it simple, his men of fire kept making some pretty waves.

 

[Volos the Verdant]

There was too much happening all at once. Nature was inherently a chaotic thing, but there was order within that chaos, a harmony that transcended its outwardly discordant appearance. The fight that was erupting in the Falwood, however...this had no rhythm or reason. Just fire and death and destruction. Too many things happening at once, no one thing the archdruid could focus on. Fortunately enough, the choice of what to focus on was made for him.

A tree trunk, hurled like a javelin by the abomination that rampaged through the land, hurtled towards the druid. Volos clapped, and in an instant he was no more than a mass of leaves being carried across a magical wind. The tree trunk flew through the cloud of foliage that was now his form, scattering the leaves and careening past and into the forest behind where he once stood with a loud crash. A moment's peace was what he needed, just a second to recollect his thoughts.

Then the fire licked at his dispersed form, embers and sparks that wisped through the air. An unnatural fire, assuredly the magic of the Anirian that had already been lashing out at the druids and elves alike. Among the mayhem he heard the spirit's cry for aid.

|Too... hot|

Volos reformed near the cocoon he had crafted for Fauna and brushed a bit of burning greenery from his shoulder. He huffed. Plant magic was his particular forte, but as a druid and the chosen voice of the World Herself, all of nature's magics were within his grasp. Kneeling, he found his center and breathed, closing his eyes and extending his focus into the earth around him. A primal rune formed around him, a magic circle of sorts, and he felt the land around him for anything he could use.

Arethil's grace was with him. He felt it: a well of water beneath the ground. A cascade of vibrant, azure mana began to pour from Volos as the land reshaped itself around him. The earth around the cocoon fell away and became a chasm, roots pulling it up from the ground. The air became violent in the area, blustering to and fro at near gale force, sucking life from the unnatural flames. Finally, a torrent of water rushed up from the chasm, dousing the cocoon and soaking it in mud. For now, at least, Fauna would be safe.

Laughter chimed out across the battlefield.

He heard it. He understood it. He had been granted clarity.

She whose whimsy brought brother against brother, sister against sister. Mistress of the Dawn Court. Invoker of War. Had she been drawn by the turmoil around him, or had she played a hand in its cause? Did it matter?

While he could not recall whether he had ever met her personally, Mother Arethil knew of her trickery, her unique brand of mischief. The laughter was familiar. Somehow, he knew her. Her presence was almost certainly a bane...yet somehow, perhaps by his Mother's guidance, he realized that she could be a boon.

Volos rose to his feet and looked about, mana-charged eyes darting to and fro.
"гєשєคɭ ץ๏ยгรєɭŦ Շ๏ ๓є, ๏ Ŧคє ๏Ŧ ฬคг, ๏ ๓เรՇгєรร ๏Ŧ ๓คץђє๓. เ รєєк คย๔เєภςє ฬเՇђ ץє, ๏ ץє ฬђ๏ ฬ๏ยɭ๔ гєשєɭ เภ Շђเร ๓คєɭรՇг๏๓ ๏Ŧ ๒ɭ๏๏๔รђє๔." The dwarf chanted in a language garbled to all but those who were in tune with nature...the ancient Druidic tongue.

 

[The Thousand Eyed Angel]

The Angel paid little mind to the cataclysm around it. Its focus lie on those who were foolish enough to impede its path. Irithiel dropping in front of it with nary a look of fear in his eyes. Irritating. Smug. The maggot flesh always loved to show its valor. Prove itself in the face of the impossible. Was it like that before?

It did not know. Those were dead memories.

The Thousand Eyed Angel leered down upon this lone warrior with its penetrated skull. Blood seeped from its helmet onto the feet of Irithiel.

"Brave maggot flesh always dies first. Just to be remembered. Just to be remembered. Do you crave death from me?" It stuck its sword in the ground between the two of them.

"ANSWER ME, ROTTEN BLOOD. HE WHO HATH GIVEN AWAY HIS LIFE FOR PETTY MORAL, FOR PETTY REMEMBRANCE."

It put its shoulder into it's sword and charged. Aiming to flatten Irithiel and all else in its path.

 

[Drederick]

It was wonderful. He could feel it. It permeated the air, and fed into his terrible spell. The death, the struggle. The fear. It was like a sweet incense drawn into him, comforting him. And all the while he continued to write: the circle in the dirt, and the runes wrapped around it. The first part of his spell was nearly complete, when no doubt his doings would be far more noticable. It was unfortunate that he was not yet powerful enough to simply unleash his devastation all at once, but this would have to do.

He began the final rune of the first circle... and as he drew its final line, slowly, he quietly spoke,

"Il ach til na fal,

ru suk nak no ivil..."
​

His next breath, rather than breathed was more pulled out of him, and around him a strange essence took shape and bled down into the inscriptions he'd drawn below him. The circle began to glow a dark light, and with it its form rose up around him, and began to spin. Below him the initial inscription remained for him to continue with... which after a short moment of recovery, he carried on drawing now within the inner circle. Long, winding arcs that overlapped and entwined, and abrupt corners and turns that at first and for a time seemed to have no reason or discernable end. But... he knew, and when it was done it would clearly be seen.

As for the spell of the first circle... its work began.

A cruel breeze, growing shortly into a wind, crept across the battlefield. It sept in between the trees, and fed the fires of destruction. It carried on it a foul, uncertain hint, akin to rot, with a hint of sweet. And below - the ground. Where pain had been dealt, where blood had been spilt and the land drank in the warmth of death, a darkness began to form. It appeared as a mist, rising up out of the blood and the remains of those fallen, and spread out across the field in a slow and sickening roll. And everything it touched became withered. The land itself became blighted, and cracked, as if life itself was taken from it and fed into the creeping curse.

"Avak no gul gatak ik vala,"
​

The price of these magics, the toll it took, it was all in abundance here. And though it fed him and his cursed spells, he was not spared.

His very soul became blackened, tainted ever more, with each and every line drawn, every foul word spoken. Darkness gripped him, and he reveled in it.

 

[Elise Virak]

Elise could feel it, the magic, the bleakness of it,

She did not know where it came from, in truth she did not know where it was, but she could recognize the chaos that was going on around her. Lips thinned, eyes darted between the Druids and everyone else that was desperately trying to fight.

It seemed that this little lumber camp had exploded into a battle, become something more than she had ever anticipated. Her lips thinned, and she knew that this was not the right place to truly fight. All she had was two Dreadlords and a handful of Apprentices.

Some of the House Guards were here as well, but...it was not enough. She did not have an army, not even close to it.

"M-My Lady. We-we."

The young pyromancer began to speak, his lips barely parting as her hand still clutched his shoulders. Golden eyes flickered towards him, and then she scowled slightly as she watched steam rise from the forest ahead.

Some of the soldiers began shouting about a spirit, something flittering through the air, but Elise saw nothing of the sort. Her soul was black, dark, already more broken than anything smashed into a thousand pieces.

She watched as the rot expanded before her, and then spoke with a scowl. "I said..."

Her fingers tightened on the pyromancer.

"Burn it." As she said the words a gasp escaped the young Dreadlords throat, and then suddenly his veins turned back. Like a corrupt disease the black lines spread, taking over his form and stretching beneath his skin. Then suddenly the veins seemed curl, scrunching in as the man turned to naught but dust.

A second lingered, and then suddenly the fire that had nearly been doused within the trees exploded forth as an inferno. The Dreadlord's life snapped from existence as Elise used him to renew the fuels of the fire.

They lashed out and spread, casting as the young man was wiped from existence.

 

[Fauna]

Sweet relief as the flames fell, and Fauna drifted back into the liquid existence between shapes. What would one see if they looked into the cocoon? Impossible to tell, for not even Fauna knew if their form were solid, spiritual, or even observable at this point. The verdant skin of the pod was beginning to thin dangerously, unable to keep up with the growing life inside of it. It had now grown to nearly twenty feet in diameter, and vines snapped around it.

A familiar voice tickled their consciousness as Favashi skipped across the mayhem. It was a comfort to hear, be it warranted or not.

So close, just the final, finishing touches to be added. But they would not come. The heat returned in voluminous waves, and this time the cocoon would not withstand it. Fauna felt the plant material vaporize, and knew that they were out of time. So be it. With a final flash of magic, they forced themselves into their new body.

Spoiler: The Baloth

The baloth was large and terrible. Erupting from the cocoon, it unfurled itself with a shriek and a roar, setting massive feet upon the baking ground. Its scales were hard, but Fauna had been unable to finish tempering them, and the flames burnt. In spite of this new body's great size, they would need to leave the flames immediately... so they ran.

Their legs wobbled at first, like a newborn foal, but they carried the titanic beast well enough. Some moisture from Volos' protective shell had been left on them, and it carried the worst of the heat off in steam.

The smoke was searing against red eyes and Fauna ran blindly, smashing through the brush to return to the clearing and free themselves from the whirling maelstrom of fire. They could feel bodies crunching beneath their feet, and they knew not to whom they belonged.

They emerged from the fires as a juggernaut of primal fury. Burnt, half-blinded by smoke, their ire would be dealt to any in their path. Fresh fireballs battered their scales along with shards of ice. Arrows found themselves lodged deep into thick leathery flesh. None of this would stop the beast.

They could feel the earth dying under Drederick 's spell, and though they could not see him in the heat of combat, they followed the sickening scent of his magic like a hound. Trampling through lines of fire and barricades of steel, the baloth rumbled in his direction.

 

[Favashi]

"гєשєคɭ ץ๏ยгรєɭŦ Շ๏ ๓є, ๏ Ŧคє ๏Ŧ ฬคг, ๏ ๓เรՇгєรร ๏Ŧ ๓คץђє๓. เ รєєк คย๔เєภςє ฬเՇђ ץє, ๏ ץє ฬђ๏ ฬ๏ยɭ๔ гєשєɭ เภ Շђเร ๓คєɭรՇг๏๓ ๏Ŧ ๒ɭ๏๏๔รђє๔."

The wind howled across the field. Trees bowed under the weight and the fires suddenly began to shift, blowing back towards the Dreadlords and those who sought to burn further into the forest. The figure of the Fae disappeared from where it was; stood over the corpse of a dying human with her foot turning his ashen face slowly into the dirt in the hopes to suffocate him quicker.

"It has been an age since I have heard such a tongue," Favashi's voice danced on the wind around Volos' head before she materialised in front of him. There was a smattering of blood on her cheek and her smile was on the wrong side of the line of terrifying. Suddenly seeming to remember herself she tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. Graciously she offered a little bow at the waist.

"Speaker of the Mothers Tongue, what is it you would speak with me of?"

 

[Irithiel]

Irethril unleashed a lightning infused arrow but he barely missed as the spiked Knight sidestepped. "This man is fast," he muttered landing on the ground as blood splattered on his boots from the warriors fresh kill. It was hard to make of what this monstrosity was he even human or a member species long extinct? It didn't matter what Irethril needed to do was to hold off for reinforcements. "Which should come in 10 minutes," he thought.

"Death is so boring," Irethril spat. "Inflicting death upon others now that's something that I enjoy. I like to think myself of harbinger of death. It's a nickname bestowed upon me by Vel Anrians, I take that as a badge of honor."

Irethril took slid sideways dodging the vertical cut executed by the Knight. The Elf quickly reached for his arrow placing it on his bow and noct it back. Just then the entire forest became doused with fire. Irethril frantically looked around holding his breath to prevent the toxic fumes from entering his lungs. "Fucking hell!" Cedric said running towards the Elf. "The Dreadlords are burning down the forest!"

"Burning it down out of spite," Irethril thought. "Typical Anirians destroy what you can't conquer."

The area surrounding them was engulfed by flames as a burning branch fell between the The Thousand Eyed Angel and Irethirl. He and Cedric leapt backwards as the Pug took a deep breath summoning a gust of wind from his mouth dissipating the flames around them. Irethril saw the forest spirit being half blind by the black smoke. The cocoon that he shielded himself with was about hit by the advancing flames on the grass.

"CEDRIC!" Irethril yelled. "You need to help the forest spirit!"

Cedric looked back and nodded. "You got it!" he said and ran towards Fauna magically blowing the fire surrounding the forest spirit and reaching to his location. "You all right in there?!" he asked. "Not burned to a crisp I hope!"

Irethirl then turned his attention to the Dreadlords. "It's time to find the people who did this," he muttered climbing onto the nearest unburnt tree and hopping to branch to branch at a brisk pace.

The Thousand Eyed Angel Fauna Xzaar Vixneel

 

[Volos the Verdant]

Volos watched in smug satisfaction as Fauna ripped their way from the shell and began their rampage across the battlefield. Perhaps now the Path would have an edge in this fight. Of course, if that didn't do the trick, then what followed almost certainly would.

The dwarf planted his staff into the ground and stood firm in the face of Favashi's gale. The lingering sense of familiarity left a strange tingling sensation running up and down his spine, but his expression remained stoic. No more did his face shift when the fae suddenly burst into existence in front of him, almost uncomfortably close. Regardless, he was pleased that she had answered his plea. and returned her bow in kind.

"Great Fae of Dawn...I would seek a pact with ye. An alliance to our mutual benefit." He replied, his words measured and cautious. He was aware of how fickle the fae could be, especially one who embodied chaos such as she did. What was more, while he somehow knew of her, he doubted that she knew of him in kind.
"I ask for your aid, O Grand One. That you might direct the tides of battle against my enemies."

This, of course, would not come without a price...and Volos was prepared to pay in excess.

 

[The Thousand Eyed Angel]

The one who dared beckon its wrath was nimble. It spoke not to die, but to make others. Maggot flesh was all predictable. Take, take, take, take. They took so much from it. It wondered how great the might of the warrior was. It issued a challenge to Irithiel as he fled:

"IF YOU ARE MORE THAN WHAT I'VE SEEN FROM YOUR KIND, IF YOUR PROCLAMATIONS ARE NOT JUST WAYWARD BRAVADO, THEN KILL ME, MAGGOT FLESH. SUCCEED WHERE ALL HAVE FAILED."

It roared into the forest. The chaos was never ceasing. The Baloth caught it's attention. It wanted to engage the beast out of instinct. Then came the flaming trees. Several of them collapsing on The Thousand Eyed Angel as it marched further towards the protectorates of the forest.

The Angel disappeared from sight for several seconds. Engulfed by the destruction of the forest and suffocated beneath its weight.

"So... Warm... It's like... The..."

The hulking horror emerged from the trees with more vigor. A reason to fight. And its neck turned towards the sky.

"SUNSHINE."

The darkened wings flew the creature upwards. As it rose, a crown of violet daggers appeared around its skull. Pulses of shadowy energy falling from it.

"I wonder... How many... Of you... Will... Survive..."

 

[Xzaar Vixneel]

The distinct smell of dark, dense smoke swiftly permeated the air, causing him step back and take a knee. He needs to provide some respite. He could hear hear several screams, not form the humans but from the burning plants; they emit a high frequency noise when in distress and it's coming from every angle!


He had to tune it out as he began sifting through the seemingly useless, miscellaneous objects within his satchel, soon pulling out a seed and flicking it near a tree that didn't burn. A slight, purple light engulfed it before it embedded itself into the dirt. With that, he drew an arrow back as his supply of them diminished.


The Golden Pothos, not a carnivorous plants. A purifying one. It quickly grew, leaving wide, thin waxy leaves from the area of ground in grew from as it started to climb up. Twining vines, tendril vines and aerial rootlets all invaded the tree for its support. Once securely in place, it's leaves spread out in abundant, yellow-marbled foliage. The process needed to filter the air requires sunlight... and it's scarce with the thick smoke so it won't be as efficient, but it filtered what it could so he could at least see.

It was then when he noticed Irithiel battling The Thousand Eyed Angel before the monster was buried in flaming trees. A quick fellow that elf is. Shit did I accidentally plagiarize the fucking lightening arrows...

Oh well. Wulfric would awake to quite the sight when he emerges from that metallic cocoon he surround himself in. Aiming-- quite literally-- to ensure that he doesn't wake up, Xzaar circled his cacoon at a distance, firing the same electric infused arrows he did before in hopes of killing him with his own weapon. Once into the ground, they'd begin the electrocution (laughsinevil) in five seconds.

He was growing tired. The heat was stifling and the air felt heavy. He hadn't noticed it in the moment, but atmosphere feels ominous. Suffocating. Crippling Dread. Life is being rapidly siphoned from the area, but he doesn't fucking know where. In his search for the source, his eyes happened to set upon the trees that monster was buried under. He saw The Thousand eyed Angel erupt in blind rage, and it unintentionally-- though probably highly welcomed by it-- sent a tree in his direction.

He sought to command a thick wall of vines and rock to shield him, but it didn't work... he barely felt the aura of the ground below from the insidious magic tainting it. Instead, he tapped into the emotion of joy, quickly ducking the tree. However, the tree did claim one fatality; his Golden Pothos was struck with the flaming tree, quickly being eaten up and turned to dust like Sparhawk.

Irithiel abandoned the fight with that monster, leaving it to fly into the sky. He squinted, gazing up in trepidation as it hovered there. Xzaars eyes widened as the daggers materialized within the air. Those daggers were clearly trouble... Fuck.

He wanted to avoid all conflict with this creature, but it appears that he's the only one unoccupied with any skirmishes.

So be it.
​

He momentarily closed his eyes, clenching his fists and planting his feet firmly onto the ground. He dug mentally deep into the ground below him, the grass blackened from the magic and scorched from the heat. Some were dead... but portions clinged to a thread of life. He focused onto it. Grasped it. Connected to it. Called upon whats left of it. No.. wha-...

It was vile. twisted. He felt the presence of the foreign magic tainting the follage. He touched it... It seized his body in dread. He did not collapse or show any physical response to this magic, but it felt terrifying and painful. His body tightened and no matter how hard he inhaled, the air felt as if it didn't fill his lungs. Pins, needles and stabs pricking his body. Even his aura was gripped by this presence. The connection to his own magic and even his bow faltered... what did he fucking do.

It enervated him. Suffocation. He felt anger... but it didn't appear of his own. He wasn't angry. He was fearful. Someones responsible for this. He can't tell who, why or how it's done, but someone's near...

Stop... this.. Shit...
​

A message sent directly into the mind of Drederick. A weak, slightly distorted one from the effect it's having on Xzaar. It felt like he was here for hours. His aura was being stolen. He had to fight it. He concentrated on the screams of the burning shrubbery. The frequency is resonated... he needs it. He called upon it, slowly draining it's aura from it and eventually killing it. The trees and foliage nearest to him began to turn black as the frequency silenced. He couldn't convert or steal this dark magic for himself, so he'll have to overpower the portion taking a hold of him.

The already muffled cacophony of flames, screams and bodies hitting the ground blocked out completely. It was him and this foreign magic. He continued to draw from the already dying trees around himself, stealing their aura and adding it to the internal fight. It continued to feel like hours...

Concentrating, he built it up long enough for it to finally overpower it's grasp, purging his soul from it entirely. He, quite literally, snapped back to reality. (laughsineminemfan) The air rushed into his lungs as the chaotic noise of the battle flooded back in. The warm air returned to graze his skin, which was pale. Things felt louder, brighter. Overwhelming. In reality, about 15 seconds have passed. He realized that when things were still as he had left them. His head snapped in the direction of Drederick, who is hidden in the forest. He felt his presence, but he isn't his concern at the moment. Fauna was charging into that direction, so hopefully that fuckery will end. More importantly..

Got'cha bitch.
​

In an instant, the aura he stored from the surrounding follage rushed down his body, into the ground below him and revitalizing it. It turned green, beaming with life. However, the dark forces still gripped it them. Xzaar wouldn't allow it a chance to taint him again, commanding the plant matter, dirt and crushed rocks to congregate below him and quickly rise into the air. He left a medium sized crater in the below him as he departed into the air.

The mass of land, broke down below him, reforming into solid rock with patches of green infused within it. He hovered a few feet away from the Thousand eyed angel. He'll have to confront him to possibly save his comrades below.

Unlike the Irithiels arrogant speeches, Xzaar prefers to be humble. Stopping this creature won't be easy. How Irithiel remains unabashed by this thing is beyond him. Natural materiel may be pieced by it's daggers... fuck.

With a short fluroush of the wrist as his left hand slightly convulsed from the dark magic's effects, an ethereal, green light materialized in his hand, spreading out in a purple shield. His aura is still recovering, so this magical energy will be weaker, but it's better than nothing. He placed his bow on his back, doing the same motion with bis right hand as a blade of the same color formed.

Alright... let's not die.
​

With a forceful stomp, pieces of the mass of land broke off, darting off in the direction of The Thousand eyed Angel in jagged, sharp pellets in numbers of 30 that'd hopefully lodge themselves in the grooves and openings within it's armor. A minor attack, but just to know where he stands...

 

[Adagium]

Leviathan should have been enough to out the fires out, her watery body doused many of them as she slithered along the burning path. Why must these dreadlords do such senseless acts, they thought that elves were inferior and nasty beings along with many others in their pro-human ways. But they really needed to look at themselves in the mirror to see who the real beast was. Because they were ntohing if not the devil now to the Falwood and the inhabitants. A foolish and fatal error should they decided to rise up against them for revenge.

Adagium arrived on the chaos of the battle field and used a quick spell to shoot magic missiles through some of the dreadlords attacking the people fo the Falwood (if your Falwood char needs help there it is Im not exactly naming off all the chars who I help so its up to you). One of them tried to attack him but he ducked down and under the human, ripping out his neck with his teeth from behind. Spitting out the flesh onto the floor as the dreadlord crumpled to the earth the scholar looks at the inferno. “Thou must fight fire with fire.”

He doesn’t look at his book as he flip to a certain page drawn out in blood, ripping it out he crumples it up and lights it on fire and a giant fiery serpent errupts from the page. It bows its head to Adagium and he pets it, “Have them a taste of their own magic, use their own magic against them my dearest Xiuhtecuhtli.”

The fire snake hisses and lifts its enormous body as it brings the fire around it into its own inferno then a huge wave of heat and deadly fire erupts ofer the dreadlords. Ash becomes of those who had perished and the fire erupts over their own, made of their own magic. The serpent then slithers the forest and creates a barrier with Leviathan preventing the flames from spreading further the two of them entwinning bodies.

 

[Drederick]

It had taken him some time to notice, in fact not until his breath became visible to him did he realize, but the air around him had grown cold. Within the circle, it had become less and less apparent what was transpiring around him - at least through his natural senses. Instead, through his magic he could feel so acutely, that while he drew he could almost see with his mind what took place around him. But the more ingrossed into the spell he became, the further removed he felt. The allure of the wretched power that was slowly rising was too tantilizing. Addicting. He needed it.

And, from what seemed like the distant horizon, whispers found him, guided his hand, and spoke to him sweet lies.

And with finality and glee, Drederick completed one final arc and drew his blade overhead, and he laughed. The telepathic pleas went unaswered, the growing quakes of the Baloth's approach yet to be considered a threat, all of it, everything ignored. He was lost in his machination.

Then he reached up with his free hand, and grasped tightly on the blade.

"Ik vil ka,"
​

He slowly pulled his knife through his clenched fist, continuing his utterance,

"ik vil ka,"
​

He pulled it free, and opened his hand for blood to fall freely, and he jammed his instrument into the center of the circle. A spire of the dark light sprang up around Drederick, and from it a horrid sound like distant cries carried across a howling wind came forth. Images of runes he had carved into the ground took shape and shot out to find themselves planted onto the trunks of trees both nearby and distant, burning and untouched alike.

For a moment it seemed a pointless thing, but soon they began to shudder. Deep beneath the ground, their roots grew uneasy. Something, was amiss.

And Drederick, he basked in the frigid cruelty of his spell, rising to his feet, spreading his arms wide. He looked ahead, through the twisting light of his spell and saw. The Baloth was nearly upon him...

 

[Fauna]

Everything was pain, confusion, or anger. The smoke stung at Fauna's eyes still and choked their throat even as they bellowed. The flames, now removed from them, had left their angry marks and the raw flesh beneath would not quiet. The ground was hard, dry, and broken, and from within Fauna felt a profound wrongness.

They were not connected to the plants as they were the animals, but Fauna was still of the forest, as they still felt its ebb and flow. The darkness that swelled beneath their feet was sickening, and a nausea bubbled from within. They had felt the death and shrinkage from the fires, from the fellings, but this was a corruption.

Baloths were rare. Creatures so large and so aggressive could not exist in large numbers. Wherever they had, they began to starve from overhunting their prey, and soon began to turn on one another. They followed the rules. They bowed to the law of balance. It was fitting, then, that such a being should be the one to remind humanity of its own obligations to this law. They had managed to avoid it so far... but it would find them soon enough.

The fires swelled, quieted, and swelled again. Trees shattered from demonic strength and spiritual powers. Supernatural powers laughed at their petty squabbles, and valor fought duty fought righteousness.

And in the middle of it all, a very large beast smashed its way through to Drederick . The epicenter of the spreading sickness. Fauna's feet tore up the ground where the runes had once been, and a single colossal arm raised and swung at Drederick, seeking to paint the dirt with his remains.

 

[Elise Virak]

It was time to go.

The Dreadlord that had remained alive besides her had formed a shield of rock and earth to protect her from the flames, blocking off the touch of whatever serpent had been summoned to bring ruin to her flesh. Her fingers tightened, and her lips thinned.

She hated running, but the reality of the situation called for it.

The forces under Anirian Control were not an army. She had a few dozen Virak House Guard, two full dreadlords, a handful of apprentices, and then a hundred loggers. It was not a force she could win this battle with.

Not after so many...foes had appeared. It would have been a fools errand to expend more of the Well, even if she managed to slaughter a few dozen more of their foes. "We're leaving, carve us a path out."

Elise stated plainly.

The Dreadlord looked at her for a moment, then towards the ashes of his friend. He swallowed, and then nodded his head. The earth suddenly shifted, and then broke out beneath them into a lung tunnel. Elise shifted, and then slipped down into the ground.

Her eyes were alight with fury as she slipped away.

 

[Irithiel]

"Thank you Cedric!" The Pug said to the forest spirit who ignored him and ran off to face the Dreadlord that was cloaking himself around a spell. "You're welcome!" Cedric's voice was laced with heavy sarcasm. Now and days he just wasn't appreciated for all the hard work he's done whether it's at his homeland or when he's in a war with Irithrel. "Cedric do this!" the Pug could hear Irithrel say. "Cedric do that! Cedric stop insinuating that I love Kalianna Romane and focus on your job!"

That damned Elf.... he's always so into his job that he never appreciates the finer in life. The least Irithrel could do is to say thank you to Cedric but sadly no wants to give thanks to an aging Pug. Sometimes Cedric wondered why he even does it? "Because it's the right thing to do." Cedric said to himself imitating what his father said to him.

"The things I do for love....." Cedric ran after Fauna in preparation for an attack. "Hey let me help you out friend!" The Pug shouted at the forest spirit while simultaneously forming a fire spell in his throat.

Irithiel hopped amongst the tree branches observing the battlefield above. Cedric and Fauna were engaging a Dreadlord whose magic made Irithiel uneasy. He could feel a dark energy around Drederick as though someone or something was being unleashed by the Dreadlord. Whatever it is Irithiel hoped that Cedric would be okay. Up north there were considerable amount of Vel Anir forces retreating Including their leader.

The One Eyed Elf squinted at the woman ordering the troops around. That must be the leader, she didn't look like she was ready for combat though. Perhaps if Irithiel could capture this ashen haired woman, command can question her about Vel Anir's presence. Just then an arrow pierced a guard's throat followed by a volley which took out five soldiers. Elven soldiers appeared screaming "Fal'Addas!" and other phrases known only to the Elves. The commando forces were everywhere jumping down from the trees or appearing behind the bushes. Whichever way they came, the Elves charged towards the scattered human forces slicing and dicing through them like butter while more arrows from the Elves that remained on the trees rained from above.

A smile slowly formed on Irithiel's lips the reinforcements have arrived at last. Unfortunately though it seemed that the leader is trying to get away through what looked to be a lung tunnel. "ELVEN!" Irithiel jumped down drawing his sword and decapitating a soldier. "We have to get after their leader!"

Xzaar Vixneel

 

[Kallirrhoe Aedus]

Rhoe was no fighter, not ever. And there was a possibility that other than the time she found herself pregnant, she had never felt so alone. Well, except for when she was almost burned at the stake, but that hardly counted, since Ser Gavin Halbert had rescued her.
There was a very real chance that no one would rescue her now. But despite having no war training, she was, of course, not powerless. Perhaps her fire powers might aid some burning arrows, or her water powers might put out some burning arrows.

Whatever the case. she had no intentions of losing her home, even though there were times when she thought of leaving her hut and going to live among more beings, not least when she felt helpless, even if there was a possibility of her not being accepted among them, even if she did have some friends.

But even in her darkest times- well, most of them- helplessness had only been a feeling, not a permanent reality. And as she raced to defend Falwood, she tried harder to remember that than ever before.

 

[PocketSizedFaye]

A few days had passed since Amelia had left her home city Fal'Addas, naturally she had heard about the turmoil and wars that had been happening all over the lands of Falwood. So far she had however not encountered any of the sorts.

She had just broken up camp and donned a white robe with a light blue rim over her dark blue one piece dress to protect her from the rain and wind that had been falling down upon her the past few hours. Slinging her quiver of arrows on her back as she looked around to make sure she hadn't left anything, that not being the case she smiled.

Just as she wanted to continue her journey she heard people shouting in the distance, Amelia had never been interrested in the war and strife happening around her. But now that she heard those shouts of pain and people yelling to go after another party, she could no longer ignore it. A steely glance became vissible in the usually soft blue hue of her eyes, her lips pressed together slightly as she suddenly thought of something more valuable than the petty lives of those around her "If the people who are invading the lands of Falwood mean to destroy our cities all of the knowledge and books they contain could be lost forever" she started walking towards the noise of people shouting.

As she came closer and closer she could hear the sound of steel clashing against steel, reaching the top of the small hill that had blocked her sight her eyes widened in disbelief. What was she witnessing? Is this what war is all about?
No matter, if these people and/or beings were to threaten her precious books and scrolls she would do anything to stop it. In a fluent movement her right arm moved to her quiver pulling a single arrow from it, her eyes scanned the lands below her "Just about 160 meters" her gaze had locked on a small group of people running away from her towards some elves. She smiled grimly "You dare raise your weapon against our species, it is time you learned" In a matter of 30 seconds Amelia had fired 9 arrows at the group that was about to attack the elves.

 

[Favashi]

"It seems," Favashi sighed and took a hold of the edge of her cloak, fingering the blood-soaked edge, "As though the Day is Won."

She could feel it as assuredly as a sea nymph would be able to feel the change of the tide or an air spirit the oncoming storm. Sure enough a few moments after she spoke the Dreadlord army began an attempt to retreat. The fae's full lips twisted down into a disappointed frown as she watched the mages attempt to pick their way back towards their walled city whilst avoiding the onslaught of the forests inhabitants. For a moment her eyes lingered on one of these Dreadlords who lay dying in the mud and a sinister smile dimpled her lovely apple cheeks.

"Today, I will not ask for a favour," her eyes reluctantly returned to the druid who spoke the blessed old tongue - she did miss it so. "But if you wish to call on one in the future..." lazily she reached for one of the flowers in her hair. It was a beautiful deep orange lily that smelt of death. She gently tucked it into the mans beard with a deadly smile.

"Crush this and blow it onto the wind. Speak the words of War and I shall come."

 

[Kallirrhoe Aedus]

It seemed- for now- that Rhoe wouldn't have to do much. Considering her lack of fighting skills, this was good, but she couldn't deny she'd have liked to call down a flood. She watched, transfixed, for a moment, as Favashi gave the man the lily. Despite Rhoe's passable attractiveness, somehow she couldn't remember ever being quite that...sensual.
Not that she noticed- or cared to notice- since she was convinced it would take a miracle to see the one she loved again. Not even she had the power to bring him back to her. Not even now, when she was on the verge of losing her home. Still, how had she managed to stay alive for so long using her body to get herself out of dangerous situations? If, now that she'd met Ser Gavin Halbert all those years ago, she realized now she'd been going through the motions with anyone else, couldn't others tell, too?

She was probably alone for good now, as much as she hated to admit it. Would he even know that she had died if this battle did indeed end up costing her her life?

Still, though, she'd have to survive somewhere, somehow.

Perhaps she should learn more things than she knew. A piece of the Rhoe she truly was when she was honest would be gone, but without a home, she wouldn't be much anyway.

"Crush this and blow it onto the wind. Speak the words of War and I shall come."

The words of war.

So that was it, then.
Powers or not, Rhoe should probably learn to fight too.