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The Land of Forever Fall

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Aiden:
The Land of Forever Fall
Nestled deep in the heart of the Mountains is a mystical land where leaves are always the vibrant hues of autumn. Its borders are wooded foothills, it's walls the endless peaks, and scarcely does it know the harsh touch of frost or fire. A softly rolling valley of green provides abundance for all who settle there, fed by the ashes of the burning mountains to the west. Sparkling lakes and rivers reflect sun and moon to cast even the humblest stone in a shade of beauty. Famine, plague, and poverty are merely foreign affairs, their presence a momentary intrusion. These are the blessings of the Highborne - the magical rulers of the land, which they call Endien.

The People
Said rulers are long-lived, with elegant features and pointed ears, possessed of wit and wisdom the like which foreign men might never know. They move in all things with grace, and maintain such a degree of casual athleticism that softness is almost fetching in its exoticism. The Highborne dress in finery fitting for a court, or a battlefield, in hues of sapphire and violet. They expend their centuries in the pursuit of culture, knowledge, or prowess. They hunt, and ride horses, and politick. Their children learn to sing, or play at least one instrument, as a rule. The noble houses sustain the sacred bloodlines of the Firstborn, and rule with swords and instruments in hand to protect their people and earn the favor of the royal family.

The commoners of Endien are closer to earth in means and manner, yet still possessed of an ineffable charm of their own. They live, if not as long as the Highborne, then still longer than ordinary men. Their ears, if not as long and sharp, still taper to a point. They dress finely, but simply, with primary colors dominating an assortment of outfits for work and leisure. Their labors are enabled by the many blessings of magic, fine tools of finer metals, and land all too easily cultivated by the hands of those who keep to the old ways. This leaves the commoners with time to spare for other entertainments, and each has at least one hobby of interest to themselves or their neighbors.

To see the homes of Endien’s people is to know their ways - all curved lines, white stone, and expert yet archaic design, with distance between them for gardens or workshops. Differences in size and space, rather than quality, demonstrate status. The ancestral homes of the Highborne are traditionally the largest, and even when not so distinguished from their neighbors might be recognized for the stability of their means and markings across multiple commoner generations. Commoners aspire to such affluence, but do not often allow the search to consume their lives. Modern technology is unheard of here, and yet the workmanship of Endien’s artisans is enough to make a contemporary craftsman cry.

A small, isolated minority of pure humans, the Lowborne, dwell at the threshold of these lands. They are descendants of criminals and outcasts from long ago who were forbidden to mix their blood with that of the noble Highborne. These people have found a place for themselves as itinerant merchants, seasonal farmhands, and rangers who scout the mountain borders. The last of these, the Mistwalkers, are the subject of tales of terrific and taboo romance by the intrepid, sinister rumors of treachery by the fearful, and parables from the mouths of the elders who yet live to remember their heroism in times of trouble.

The Politics
In earlier years the Highborne ruled as aristocratic landowners, absolute in their power, over a short-lived Lowborne underclass. This changed faster perhaps than the ruling class of the time would have liked when scions of their great and noble families found much to admire in those fleeting beings they ruled, and took them first into their beds and then into their hearts. Their children, strange liminal creatures between High and Low, were split into branch families of the nobility whose numbers swelled within but a single generation once the taboo was broken. In time the only Lowborne remaining were those who’d been cast out from society’s protection, and the hybrid commoners known to Endien today demanded representation within their own lands as more than mere clients of their Highborne ancestors.

Today the Land of Forever Fall is ruled by a federation of Houses centered around a monarch from the Royal House of Endien. Each of these Houses is made of two groups: The original Highborne bloodlines who founded them, and the populations of commoners who affiliate themselves politically and economically with them today. By preference, people tend to purchase goods from members of their House, to marry people affiliated with their House, and to deal more fairly and honestly with their House kin than with outsiders. Each House has claim to lands and resources traditionally apportioned to them in ages past, and compete with one another over access to everything else by any means but murder. The traditional role of the Royal House is to moderate the competitions and disputes of the other Houses, serving as an arbiter in times of peace and a commander in times of war.

Leadership among the Houses is ostensibly decided by merit. The finest at arms, the keenest of thinkers, the cleverest merchants and craftsmen, people whose words stir their neighbors to action - all of these things technically make a leader who can join their House Council. Traditionally, a majority of Councilors are those with the talent for magic - a talent that is found most strongly and consistently among the Highborne whose children learn the sacred songs from their youth, and far less so among commoners who often lack the education and time. This too is seen among the Royal House, an exception to tradition already by making leadership a matter of heredity, where the crown princess spends centuries mastering the sacred arts of her bloodline in order to live up to the power and responsibilities of her title.

This is a land with many traditions held to by virtue of long memories and a sense of righteousness. These traditions are taken for granted in the way basic laws are in other lands - the minimum quality of one’s wares, the precautions one takes with their own safety, the traits one looks for in a partner, the length of time a proper courtship lasts (between 5 to 10 years, of course). True laws are the sole province of the presiding monarch, to be contested only by unanimous agreement of the Houses, and a new one has not been passed in over a thousand years. They are simple things with no exceptions: Do not kill your neighbors. Do not take from them the ability to work. Do not treat with sinful sorceries save to seal them. Do not force, by sword or spell, another thinking being to labor for you. Times where these laws are broken are dark ones indeed - worse so those where they are repealed.

The Warfare
The Land of Forever Fall is always wary of falling before its many enemies. From the mists come a variety of exotic and terrible creatures who would ravage their homes and devour their families, some unique and others the first example of a malevolent new species. This would be bad enough on its own, but not enough to justify the extensive degree of militarization the people of Endien are accustomed to. That particular tradition emerged from generations of border conflicts and even outright invasions from the monstrous inhabitants of the Land of Neverending Night - orcs and goblins and worse beside.

Every able-bodied citizen of Endien and its Houses has basic training in simple forms of fighting through the means of archery, swordsmanship, and spear fighting. Every family has at least enough bows for its adult members, and perhaps a set of light armor and a spear and short sword. They are taught from a young age in their spare time how to move in formation and take instruction from superiors. A mixture of exceptional craftsmanship and magical assistance from the Highborne or a gifted common Mage allows their weapons to strike with force comparable to modern infantry weapons - their arrows with the speed of a firearm. They are expected to answer the call to arms for their neighbors, for their House, for the Royal Family.

Most Houses also maintain a pair of elite Orders devoted respectively to a particular form of fighting, and a specific area of magic. The Orders of War are Endien’s only permanent military force, commoners and Highborne alike spending from decades to centuries devoted to the practice of their craft. The Orders of Magic are devoted to furthering and preserving the use of a particular field of magical study, and are predominantly Highborne. Together their skills serve to hold fast against the monsters of the mountains in times of peace, and to reinforce the citizen militias called in times of strife.

The Mistwalkers of the Lowborn present in times of trouble as an irregular force, striking the enemies of order from directions none else may. In peace, their skills are put to use gathering news of threats, collecting plant and animal samples from within the mists, and slaying monsters long before the Highborne recognize them. They spend much of their effort honing mountaineering and medicinal abilities which allow them to endure exceptional lengths of time in the presence of the Mountains’ Mantle. They have thus mobility which no other force in the Western Mountains possesses.

Endien is largely impregnable to conventional invasions through all but a handful of routes. The vastness of the Great Western Mountains protects them to the north and south. Anyone attempting to approach by land from these directions may only do so in at most small groups from these directions, and then only through supernal skills of navigation and magical assistance. Only one path allows for the exit or entry of larger forces to the west and east - the former toward the burning mountains and the Lands of Neverending Night, and the latter toward the greater Nexus as a whole. Both paths are narrow mountain passes defended by a series of gates and fortresses, each protected by spells from one of the Houses and staffed by a mixture of their people and volunteers from the Royal House. There are four such checkpoints in total, two to each pass, one for each of the Houses. A fifth exists at the center of Endien - this is the land’s walled capital, which has in turn surrounds the mystical Star Tower which has been home to the monarch’s noble line for thousands of years.

Historically, invasions have never occurred from the Eastern ``Path of Dawn.” The fortifications along that path are intended more as a final line of defense by the people of Endien to protect the rest of the Nexus from the vengeance of their ancestral enemies. The rare visitor from beyond will typically find themselves cautiously welcomed unless their intentions are obviously malign. Conversely, every few Highborne generations seem to find themselves drawn into open war with the monsters from the burning mountains beyond the Western “Path of Dusk.” Hordes of orcs, goblins, and more terrible things still pour forth from the ash, throwing themselves against the outward facing defenses in numbers beyond counting. In quieter times the gates serve as waystations for expeditions into the Land of Neverending Night to seek lost relics, trade with the Smallfolk in the hills, or cull the belligerent locals.

The Houses
Each of the four main Houses represents a distinct subculture within the Land of Forever Fall. They possess unique traditions, refine a particular martial art to perfection, and hold in harmony two of the eight basic elements of magic. The fifth house is the Royal House, keepers of the purest magical arts, and they bear the name of the land of Endien. They have been the dominant political and economic forces throughout Endien’s long history, and are as follows.

House Aurë. They have a perhaps undeserved reputation for being worldly, for their lands are the closest to the mysterious world beyond the Path of Dawn. They weave fanciful tales of forgotten lands, the horrors they allegedly contain, and the great heroes who cast them down. Not all of their knowledge is whimsical nonsense, because it is they who know best the ways of curses, dark creatures, and how to harness and contain both. Were they any less subtle their reputations might be a fair bit more sinister. Their mages create melodies of Shadow and Light, to bind fearsome and deceptive powers to a proper cause, and cast them out when they have overstayed their welcome. They produce the finest rangers of the realm, renowned for near perfect aim, incredible feats of woodsmanship, and an arsenal of magical arrows.

House Cálë. It would be natural to believe the citizens of House Cálë to be a somber lot - they surround themselves with the oldest growth in all the land, living amid reminders of the youth of even the Highborne compared to the natural history of the world. Their sacred Everwood is a place where the restless spirits of Endien gather until they are ready to pass beyond the mountains, unable to speak save to those who can match their silent songs. And yet they seem all too eager to take their responsibility as a call to joy, as much healers as they are harbingers of death’s peace and wisdom. Their mages create melodies of Spirit and Life, to call upon the knowledge of those who have passed, and to prevent that fate for just a little while longer. To witness their warriors in action is to stare down the power of the eldest beasts, and their riders.

House Húro. The builders and dreamers of Land of Forever Fall, the example of professional and intellectual quality to which others aspire. Their astrologers read the fates in the stars to warn their fellows of danger, while their mathematicians design architectural marvels of exceptional complexity and beauty. Their forges produce some of the greatest weapons of this age. For them the bounty of land and sky is abundant, ash and rain turning them into a competitor for breadbasket of Endien. Their mages create melodies of Heaven and Earth, to call forth the power found above and below for the building of wonders. Their finest fight in the ‘heaviest’ mithril armors, and carry shining golden halberds that can cleave through steel.

House Saiwa. The fierce defenders of tradition. If any of the Houses can be said to value most strongly the traditional values of Endien it is the Saiwa, who are said to be quick to correct and even quicker to accuse. However, it is for this same reason that they are among the most political of the Houses, with even commoners taking a keen interest in the affairs of governance and intrigue. Their mages create melodies of Fire and Water, for they are the instruments with which civilization is maintained. Their finest fight with flowing finesse and burning bravery, wielding imperishable magic swords almost as tall as they are with the skill to deflect arrows in midair.

House Endien. The Royal House, the founders of the Land of Forever Fall who have held to their duty to protect and guide for thousands of years. Aside from the Highborne ruling family themselves, they are made up of both the commoner descendants of royalty and their most exceptional servants. They are all encouraged to aid the other Houses in their duties in any way they can, and they go largely unresented for their efforts at this. Their mages weave together the other eight melodies of magic into a sacred symphony of Harmony, sorcery’s true form purified of all Dissonance. They are the archmages of the Highborne, and the few from outside House Endien who achieve similar heights are granted honorary membership as well. The martial arts are not neglected, but the royal family have shunned their ancestors’ brutal ways after the Darkening, and so they do not contribute a unique combat tradition to their people.

The Melodies of Magic
Light and Shadow. Life and Spirit. Heaven and Earth. Fire and Water. These are the forces around which the chaos of Dawn coalesced, allowing the Fourth Age to rise from the bitterness and spite of those which came before. Each of these forces, known to the Highborne as Melodies, may be harnessed by the skilled and learned to perform great feats of magic. The Highborne, and gifted commoners, learn from a young age to use the arts of music and instrumentation to harness at least one Melody, and even those who do not go on to make a study of magic integrate its basics into their daily lives and careers. The greatest of spellcasters grow beyond the need to weave their music for others to hear, summoning all but the mightiest symphonies of power in their hearts alone.

Light is the Melody of Banishing, that which draws down sun and stars to cast out that which does not belong in this world. Those who call on Light find that creating illumination where there is none is the simplest and most meager of its abilities, something even children can accomplish with a simple tune. Proper magicians can turn simple light into blinding rays, or into a comforting glow that flows into the hearts of others and lift them up similarly to Intimacies. They learn to weave wards against hostile intentions to protect themselves from peril. In the hands of a master every note and gesture radiates purifying energy that brings great harm to beings of inherent wickedness such as devils or the walking dead.

Shadow is the Melody of Binding, that which anchors the senses in the echoes of the darkness before the Fourth Age. Children who learn to harness the power of Shadow learn not to fear the night, for they learn to see through it and name its denizens. Proper magicians can dim all but the greatest lights, twist the senses with lies, and fill the hearts of others with despair all too similar to failing an Intimacy. They conjure curses and horrors from out of nightmares so that their enemies are torn apart - or at least given cause to run away.

Life is the Melody of Beginnings, that which gives us the chance to experience the Fourth Age in all its splendor. Children who learn songs of Life do so for reasons simple and concrete - to free themselves and their friends of minor scrapes and bruises. The true magicians of Life sing limbs back into place, disease out from bodies, and food from the soil. In battle they are some of the most fearsome of all, their songs turning to fury at the notion of anything threatening their charges and calling that which dwells below to surge forth to crush all danger.

Spirit is the Melody of Passing, that which gives us a chance to come to terms with a simple truth - all Ages come to an end, and for some sooner than others. Children who learn songs of Spirit do so because they do not want to let go of what they’ve lost - because they still want to hear the songs of cherished pets and ancestors. True magicians of Spirit keep listening, drawn to the wisdom of the lost and away from immature longings for eternity. In battle they channel the skills of the departed, and call forth the energies of passing in great bolts and fields of withering cold.

Heaven is the Melody of Skies, that which displays the glory of the Fourth Age from above. Children who learn songs of Heaven cast their eyes upward, learning to call down soft rains and gentle breezes from the firmament to give comfort to their days. Magicians of Heaven are far more impressive, both conjuring and banishing weather of all kinds and giving speed to their fellows by keeping the wind at their backs. In battle they call forth the essence of the sky to strike fast, turning simple storms into raging maelstroms of lightning and terror. The most esoteric and lofty of songs instead call to the less obvious gifts of the sky - the powers of prediction.

Earth is the Melody of Shaping, that which provides for the works of those for whom the Fourth Age was meant. Children who learn songs of Earth revel in rocks and soil, in glass and metal, and worry their parents to death as they shape these things into simple crafts and tools - or undermine the foundations of their houses. Magicians of Earth may part the earth, or call it together, bid it rise or fall, and change it from one form to another. In battle they use these abilities to create weapons of great power, and to control the terrain in ways their foes cannot readily escape.

Fire is the Melody of Renewal, that which seared away the Third Age to make way for the Fourth. Children who learn songs of Fire learn quickly that it is not a toy to play with, for its beauty comes with a terrible danger. Magicians of Fire learn not to burn in the face of this heat, and to direct its destructive power against the world around them. It is a stereotype to say that the Melody of Fire is the most combative of all, but one that is well earned - all good work that Fire has wrought has done so through destruction.

Water is the Melody of Decay, that which will one day wear away all that came before it - but until then, it gives life and beauty to all. Children learn songs of water because they are thirsty, because they enjoy watching it flow, or because they cannot stand filth. Magicians of Water understand that it is not so benevolent a force as something merely to admire, to drink, or to use to clean - but that it rots away at all works when left to settle. Their songs keep the Water flowing, call it forth from the slightest moisture, and send it to wear away at the mountain that is their foes’ defenses.

Most magicians only learn one Melody over the course of their lives, learning its songs and working wonders with it. Exceptional sorts, usually Highborne with long lives to spare for it, will learn to call forth two Melodies - always those that oppose it in the standard pairing system. It is the providence of the Royal House of Endien, and perhaps a few other prodigies of an era, to learn the secrets of weaving all Melodies in Harmony. These Highweavers, the masters of Harmony, learn to do all of the above, and in doing so discover the secrets that underlie magic itself - and thus, the means with which to unweave it.

The way of the Highweavers is difficult, the work of many lifetimes, and yet it is not the only path to ultimate power over magic. A forbidden art exists in the Land of Night of which the Highborne dare not speak, corrupting the Melodies of Magic without ever truly bothering to understand their meaning. This Dissonance is a quick path, a thing born of cruelty and hatred, a cancer one accepts into their soul - the bitterness and spite of previous Ages seeking to unravel the fabric of the Fourth. More of it, we dare not speak of here save to say this - its might suffices that the Dark Lord Yaru derives his title from it.

People, Places and Objects of Interest
The Bright Forge was created by House Húro to serve in the place of the mythic Black Forge, lost to their people with the fall of the burning mountains to darkness in ages past. It is one part enormous concert hall for the Earthshapers of the Húro to beat the drums of making, one part celestial orrery to see the heavens’ influence on their designs, and one part an access point to the last safely available ember of volcanic heat for working magically resistant materials. To reach the central chamber is to pass through endlessly echoing corridors lit by the glow of sun, moon and star and guarded by rank after rank of silent soldiers armed with the products of their charges’ labor. Anyone who witnesses this place’s beauty can recognize the skill of its keepers - and any with such skill would find no fault at all in the offered facilities.

Castle Town is the only true urban development in Endien, and it is magnificent. Set atop a great hill surrounded by an open grassland plain, it is well defensible even before one discusses the brilliantly rounded white walls that ascend in layers to defend it. Members of all Houses make their homes in its splendid townhouses, and share the products of their unique subcultures - food, items, and songs. The streets are filled with music, and thus with the magic of the Highborne. It's stores usually contain provisions for a year at siege, and its native families own weapons and armor enough for every adult to arm themselves. It surrounds the royal Star Tower, which extends deep down into the hill and ascends from its summit to rival small mountains in height. It is so named for the constellation of magical crystals which orbit its upper levels, filling the sky of the surrounding plains with wondrous light and sound on even the darkest nights. Only the most terrible magics, weapons of mass destruction, or internal sabotage could pierce the defenses of the Tower.

The Hero’s Blade is perhaps one of the greatest items of power in the entire world. Once every thousand years this seemingly simple sword is drawn from its pedestal and surges with the power to destroy all evil. Responding only to one who seeks to wield it in defense of the world’s people, with no motives of conquest or superiority, and only then in times of greatest need, the Hero’s Blade is renowned among the Land of Forever Fall for its many fine traits: Its imperishability, its ability to sense wicked intent, and its brilliant gleam in the heart of night. Perhaps the greatest of its powers are these: its flawless ability to pierce the defenses of all who harbor darkness in their hearts, and banish wicked intruders from the world with a single cut. With the passing of each wielder the blade returns to its pedestal to rest so that it might be renewed for the next great trial. For now it slumbers, silent and still, waiting for the new Chosen Hero.

The Garden of Heroes honors those who stood, sacred sword in hand, against the forces of evil in each passing age. At once somber and majestic, the garden stands at the heart of the the Everwood and seemingly grows with every thousand years without truly displacing a single blade of grass beyond its original grounds. Each hero stands tall, silent, content in the fulfillment of their ancient duty. At the center stands one statue, desolate and alone, with a single crack down the middle - the First Hero, his name unspoken, who stood with the great champions from the Dawn of the Fourth Age until his fall.

Queen Nushala has ruled House Endien, and the Land of Forever Fall, for almost a thousand years. An archmage of incredible wisdom and wondrous power, she has already led her people through one great invasion by the forces of the Dark Lord Yaru and seen to his sealing for another age. However, the weight of rule has been heavy upon her shoulders, soon it will be time for her eldest Highborne daughter, Lirazel, to take the throne by tradition. Yet she seems determined to cling to her reign, and her life, for as long as possible and to delay for just another year the inevitable failure of the seal.

Aiden:
The Path of Dawn

There, they saw it.

To Thorra, only the great halls of Jotunheim could begin to compare to the immensity of the bastion before her. The greatest of giants could but peek their heads over the deeply curved wall looming over them. It glimmered, bright as the dawn, with a hundredfold lattice of mystical light crossing its pristine surface like a cage. The tops of shining helmets and spears and knocked arrowheads caught rays of the dawn. A century of songs, in a strange yet familiar dialect, rose like brilliant birdsong to lift the heart with hope.

And there, standing before the great fastness in unutterable defiance, was what could only be described as an army. Innumerable rotting bodies, wild animals and humanoids and hounds with flesh sloughing from their bones, clambered their way up the hill in files of fifty wide. They climbed over each other, uncaring in their march.

At its rear was a small figure scarcely taller than Sage, dressed from head to toe in naught but a ragged cloak. Yet this being's very presence, and the rotting legion at its back, threatened to bury the light before them. The mist of the mountains clung heavily about them, and rot fell about them like a rain. A thousand arrows from a hundred bows rained down upon them in moments, filling the sky with trails of glimmering starlight to meet the sun as both fell on their enemies. The shambling corpses interposed themselves unerringly between their master and the defenders' volleys.

The bodies trampled on, filled with a palpable malice. Their wails cut through the songs of the defenders like a dissonant chord, channeling the figure's malevolent will. Those cut down slowly, fighting against the cleansing light, pulled themselves back together to press on.

Then one of them turned to notice the newcomers.

SINIB:
Thorra

Thorra artfully grasped the lone arrow as it whizzed by their faces, tossing it as if it were a dart into the stone face. She began to hop up the sheer faces of the wall, scaling the mountains with such effortless ease that it was as if she were on the flat plains.

Then, she saw it. A tremendous battle—between beautiful elves singing exalted battle cries and on the other side beneath them, an inexorable army of corruption and death, much akin to the serpant which she had tasted on the journey through the mountains.

The hammer knew which side she would aid without even really considering her action or its consequences. The naked hammer sprinted along the cliff face to join the fair-skinned elven host, carrying her charge all the while.

"Sage, use your druid powers to destroy the undead!" Thorra suddenly barked out an order. The very sky above them suddenly darkened, great rainclouds forming directly above the undead. Holwing winds of hurricane force forced them back down, and repeated bolts of lightning began to scar the rock black, repeated bolts targeting their fell leader from afar.

Aiden:
The Path of Dawn

T'was not just the dragon in her arms who beheld the hammer's thunderous approach in both awe and bewilderment, yet t'was she who was most inclined to respond swiftly to the act. "Then you will - release me, flat headed fool, that I might work!" In spite of the effort put into her volley of such complaints, so too did she push forth her hand and call forth the strength of the wild too long abused by the approach of this unnatural force.

A multitude of roots rose up from the soil and out through cracks torn in stone, exploiting every flaw in the ancient roadway so that the horde of shambling corpses might find itself entangled by nature's fury. Their dissonant wailing was nearly drowned out completely between the searing crack of thunder and the steady creaking of wood. They fell back onto each other in piles of limbs and rotting flesh, their steadily stumbling advance toward the pristine walls of the defenders halted in its tracks.

Only the leader of the foul force remained unscathed, a bone-piercing howl that mocked the art of song with its existence making still for but a moment the energies which threatened its shrouded half-life. That same howl seemed to bring the abominable assailants new strength, for they began to push forward against the winds.

But the elves, they did not rest. The volley of mystical arrows resumed, and upon Thorra's arrival one of the great conductors stepped forward from their midst to greet her with outstretched hands. "Hold, travelers!" The helmeted figure, dressed in some of the finest armor and silks her eyes had ever seen, beseeched her not with threat, but perhaps the warning of the calm and the experienced. "Greetings shall need to wait. Please, if your intentions are well we would have you continue to assist us!"

But of course, at least five of them had knocked bows in their direction. Just in case.

Sage took the opportunity to wrench herself from Thorra's grasp, and then immediately settled behind her so that most of her body was obscured by the blonde's. Her eyes stayed focused on the crowded approach.

SINIB:

--- Quote from: Aiden on April 06, 2021, 04:57:44 AM ---The Path of Dawn

T'was not just the dragon in her arms who beheld the hammer's thunderous approach in both awe and bewilderment, yet t'was she who was most inclined to respond swiftly to the act. "Then you will - release me, flat headed fool, that I might work!" In spite of the effort put into her volley of such complaints, so too did she push forth her hand and call forth the strength of the wild too long abused by the approach of this unnatural force.

A multitude of roots rose up from the soil and out through cracks torn in stone, exploiting every flaw in the ancient roadway so that the horde of shambling corpses might find itself entangled by nature's fury. Their dissonant wailing was nearly drowned out completely between the searing crack of thunder and the steady creaking of wood. They fell back onto each other in piles of limbs and rotting flesh, their steadily stumbling advance toward the pristine walls of the defenders halted in its tracks.

Only the leader of the foul force remained unscathed, a bone-piercing howl that mocked the art of song with its existence making still for but a moment the energies which threatened its shrouded half-life. That same howl seemed to bring the abominable assailants new strength, for they began to push forward against the winds.

But the elves, they did not rest. The volley of mystical arrows resumed, and upon Thorra's arrival one of the great conductors stepped forward from their midst to greet her with outstretched hands. "Hold, travelers!" The helmeted figure, dressed in some of the finest armor and silks her eyes had ever seen, beseeched her not with threat, but perhaps the warning of the calm and the experienced. "Greetings shall need to wait. Please, if your intentions are well we would have you continue to assist us!"

But of course, at least five of them had knocked bows in their direction. Just in case.

Sage took the opportunity to wrench herself from Thorra's grasp, and then immediately settled behind her so that most of her body was obscured by the blonde's. Her eyes stayed focused on the crowded approach.

--- End quote ---


Thorra

The giantish hammer-woman winked at them, sending a shiver down their spine. "I could never leave a beautiful group such as yourselfs out to dry. Consider this battle over."

Thorra loomed over Sage, using her mass to protect the shy dragoness. She was easily able to hide behind Thorra's girthy and lavasious curves, standing currently at over seven feet tall.

The gale had continued to pick up force, circling around the battlefield like a raging tornado now, tearing up rocks and battering anything else existing inside of it with debris. Lightning crackled inside the tornado, arcing from one side to the other and batheing the entire area in a blueish light.

Thorra herself turned. She took a stance, focusing on her target, and threw. She hurtled through the air like a supersonic projectile, smashing into the hooded fellow with cataclysmic force.

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