The Dragon Wardens

Waethrin
The UnderElm
Waethrin huffed, the Stranger's words giving him bearing and focus again. Sneering, he shot her an incredulous look.

"That is an answer for children in faerie stories and morality tales, spoken to children, only to later be revealed that said individual was some enchantress or even the Tinker himself. We shall bear with no such foolishness."

In observing the Stranger, the old man also laid eyes on Idhrenan. She was shaken, it seemed to him, by something that the darkness pressed into her mind. He pitied her, as he pitied the child he now embraced, for the voices still echoed in his mind, demanding his attention. Condemning his actions. Promising with emotionless tones his unending regret in death for the pain his infinite hubris had caused. His lip raised in a snarl; perhaps the Stranger could direct them out, despite his misgivings and her apparent unwillingness to identify herself. So Waethrin turned his baleful gaze back to her.

"If you wish not to speak your name, merely say so. But we will follow you from this place; it has already done us ill, and I would it did us no more."

Certainly not to the child. Waethrin glanced down. Aurea was such a young soul, untainted by years of hardship and bitterness. She should not have to suffer through this; she did not deserve it.

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As snow began to fall, another storm, it seemed, had passed for the time being. The newly appointed orc commander had fallen silent, and even Addiver had dissolved from anger to quiet sorrow, tears streaking his face. For a moment she was sure that there might come a debate, but it was quickly brushed aside and Raleia nodded to Addiver’s repeated sentiments. She remembered the heartbreak of leaving Haven… of leaving Valnir. How desperately she wanted to put the fallen to rest.

Reaching out, she grasped his forearm in support, “They deserve as much. Without them…” But Addiver knew what their sacrifice had wrought.

Looking to the cart her expression softened, “You shouldn't have to see them like that, Addiver. If… if you want I could… I can use my magic.”

Addiver's eyes were fixated on the patchy grass next to the wheel of the cart, hand grasping the broken edge he had torn into earlier in his fit. He had already seen them as they were. Lisella had purposefully made him a witness to the massacre. The butchers sobbed. One of them took their own life in grief which only added to the assortment. Addiver tried to remember his name. They were just as much a victim as he. And it was all purposeful, but to what end he still was not sure. This caused the man to become lost in everything, and he could not think straight or within the moment. Perhaps it was best to handle the dead with care and away from their eyes to save Addiver from the triggering and the Thalls from the unfortunate display of what they had inadvertently agreed to.

Raleia would find herself without a verbal answer from the Thall. His mind had once again lost itself in the stupor of his experiences until he reached out to grasp the sleeve of her shirt. Mouth parting slightly, he had intended to respond, yet could not bring forth his voice. He could only squeeze her arm to display cognizance while he choked back the flood of thoughts and emotions.

There were no words, she supposed, that could adequately help Addiver... nothing she could say to alleviate the pain. She knew all too well what it was like to witness a loved one die in a horrible fashion. There was no comfort.

He reached out to squeeze her arm and Raleia nodded softly, patting his hand, before turning back to the others, looking first to the orc commander, then the former commander, lying still in his mortal end, "...I'm not familiar with your customs, where death is concerned. But take what time you need to, to lay him to rest. We will do the same..." Her eyes moved to Feria, but as she opened her mouth to ask for aid they fell to the other red haired woman and blinking, she stalled.

"C...Coley?" She hadn't seen her, in the fury of the moment, but there was no missing her now. Breathing out, Raleia moved to the girl and reaching out, pulled her into a one-armed hug, "I'm so glad you're alright." Releasing Coley, she looked to Feria and shaking her head, reached out to hug her as well. They were all that remained, it seemed... The three of them. It was a bitter realization, but also not one she was going to take for granted. Alone would have been considerably worse.

"Will you please help me?" She asked, stepping back from the two, drying her eyes with the back of her hand, "I'd like to take the cart away from the crowd before I light it. They... they shouldn't need to watch if they don't want to."​

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It had taken months to find Briseis, months in the wintery embrace of the Northern Mountains. She’d departed from the Haven shortly after her tenth nameday, the beginning of autumn and the search lasted until the climax of winter. They found each other during a blizzard that made even her shiver. But when they found each other…

Sometimes Coleite wondered if those mountains were her real home, that the Haven was just a vague forgotten dream… How easy would it be to take to the air and leave this madness, hide as they had for months? To live free of orcs and Thalls and fellow Wardens alike. She longed to rid herself of fear and guilt, longed for solace and the north. But no… the mountains could wait, she and Briseis could wait a little while longer… the Shadow threat, however, could not.


Shivering out of her reverie, Coleite glanced around the chaos that surrounded her, wondering how it’d come to this; Warden’s decimated at the Haven, the remaining redheads save herself, Feria and Raleia, gone, and Thall citizens butchered by the Shadow’s bitch…

She turned away from the scene slowly, away from the dead zul, the severed limbs, and the confrontation that was Raleia and Drau. Coleite supposed she should be standing there, standing with the two older Wardens, but something held her back… She and Briseis had spent months hiding in the mountains, living for each other, never knowing what the next moment would hold. Walking to Briseis, she reached and held onto his serpentine neck, seeking the only comfort she knew while searching for her bravery. With her face hidden she covered a wretched sob in the feathery embrace of Briseis. The ice dragon crooned softly in the back of his throat and further hid her embarrassment by covering Coley's lanky frame with an outstretched wing.

To be brave was to be afraid, to be strong was to be weak, and to know grief was to know joy. And so slowly, Coleite wiped her tears and turned back around. With Briseis easing his way with her, the young Warden made her way towards the others; to the new ‘zul, her fellow Wardens, Prince Asal, and Addiver Cald.

“I want to bury them,” Addiver said as she walked up. Coleite took her place next to Feria and Raleia and listened. “That's what I'm going to do. I'm going to bury them before I do anything else.”

Coleite nodded at Addiver and then watched with a morbid fascination as he and Raleia conversed. Once more she was struck with the thought that they knew each other, and well at that. Afterwards the eldest Warden looked at her in shock and threw her arms around Coley. Though grateful of the compassion, Coleite couldn't help but cringe at the physical touch. When she saw her fellow Warden's tears however, her own eyes started to water and swallowing hard, glancing over her shoulder at Briseis as Raleia proposed a question, she tried her hardest not to cry again.

"I would like to help." She said softly, voice hoarse and scratchy, finally facing Raleia once more. "I will help." Coleite repeated, almost defiantly.
 
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Aurea took heed of the stranger's words, letting go of Waethrin to allow them to follow. Still, she timidly reached for his arm. The young warden feared of being sucked into a worse realm. If their fate was to descend further into Hell, she would prefer to do so with her fellow wardens at her side.

It was hard not to give in to fear and sorrow when the voices around her were telling her to do just that. She looked up and was disturbed that the sky was nowhere to be found. It was as if they were still in a giant grave. Aurea needed something to distract her from the negative energy surrounding her. Finally, she spoke up.

"What is this place?" Aurea asked the stranger. They certainly weren't in Thallas anymore...
 
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The hug caught her off guard, Feria’s body stiff as a board as Raleia wrapped her arms around her fellow warden. No part of Feria seemed to enjoy the interaction, and she seemed to be wishing for it to be over. In the hug, Feria had a clear view of Raleia’s open shoulder, and realized a wound like that could not be left alone, especially when she could see the broken remnants of stitches.

Feria’s patience was wearing thin. Raleia’s hysterics, the shadow, the orcs, the cart filled with bits and pieces of what used to be people. Feria was not opposed to the idea of some sort of burial or cremation, anything to pull the cart away from the grieving bystanders, but the only thing that made her wary of the idea was that Raleia could hardly stand upon her feet.

“Coleite, I think it would be best if you handled the cart.” She said, eyes narrowed, putting a gentle hand on Raleia’s good shoulder, but one that seemed to hold a certain firmness, as if she were gesturing for her to move away. “I need to stitch up your wound. You’re not going to be able to last much longer if you keep going like this.”

Frowning, Raleia looked to the other Warden, “I can hold out. I… I have to do this.” Her eyes drifted to the cart, her expression solemn, “Those men and women died to help us. I will never have peace if I don't lay them to rest. I'm alright… Really.”

“Raleia,” Feria said sternly, like a mother scolding a child. “If you want to help any further, you need to recover. If you push yourself any more than you already have, you won’t be able too. Do you really intend to tell me you’re fine when there’s a gaping wound on your shoulder?” Feria gestured, eyes narrowed, at the open wound. “You’re not going to give these people peace if you die along with them.”

Her hand hovered for a moment over her shoulder before slowly, Raleia sighed in resignation, “Very well…” Looking to Coley, she nodded, “Move the cart away from the crowd… but leave it until I can return.”

Turning back to Feria, she bowed her head, “Let's go…”

Feria nodded in return, glad the woman had come to her senses, guiding her to a tent. She offered a backwards glance to Coliete, brows furrowed, a silent “don’t mess this up,” hoping she would get the hint and do her job right.

Feria held the flaps of the tent open for Raleia to enter, and once she had come in, began to pull medical supplies from the table that stood within it. She moved silently, and held no comforting stance. This was business, at least in Feria’s eyes.

Settling down in the chair, Raleia paused, looking around the tent with a soft frown. The last time she had been in that tent was with Thannel…

Breathing out, she sank back to unlatch her cloak, setting it aside, “Have you ever wondered if it was all worth it, Feria? What we do? Or...did?”

A sigh escaped Feria as she pulled out a cloth to wipe away the wound. She had no interest in partaking in this touchy small talk, but perhaps to distract Raleia, it would work well enough. “Hmn.” Feria mused, pretending to think it over. “I’m sure it was worth something, somewhere.” Feria sounded entirely disinterested and unconnected. “What about you?” She huffed. “What do you think it was worth? Hold still.” She prepared to begin cleaning up the wound.

“I'm not so sure anymore. What have we accomplished? Really? Hatred and darkness still rule these lands and our people have dwindled to nothing. What happened here today with Addiver’s friends… was barbaric. To think that a person’s mind could be so consumed by evil as to even conceive such horrors… How can we hope to combat the Shadow when it’s already won so much of the battle?”

Lowering her gaze, she looked down at her hands, “I feel numb, Feria. Empty. They have taken so much from all of us… and I'm losing the will to fight, anymore.”

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she shook her head, “I'm sorry. I hardly know you… I shouldn't… It's just, we're all we have, aren't we? All that's left…”

Feria looked away a moment. Ah, well. Her ploy of pretending to care had seemed to fall through, because Raleia had decided that every fellow red head was indeed a jolly good pal of hers. “I suppose..” She started, and then stopped. Numb, she said. That was good for the pain.

Feria was a person that always had that strange, dark glint in her eye. It shimmered and it glistened but it was never quite brought to light.

“What they take should only give you more strength.” She let the words settle on her tongue. In the air. “Every piece they rip away from us, doesn’t it make you want to take it back even more? You cannot let every defeat weaken you, otherwise they will most definitely win.”

She thought to Olsten’s words, the truth she could not escape. Feria knew they were a dying breed; she only hoped to die on her own terms, or at least terms she was willing to abide by. Hopefully, she’d be gone before everyone else, so she wouldn’t have to deal with all that carnage. Or, far enough away. Just her and ifer, in a scary cold cave with no one to bother her and no wardens to beg for her help because, perhaps there would be none left.

But ah, where did that leave the sad, caring ones? The ones like Raleia, the very woman she was trying to stitch up, to keep from dying.

“Truthfully, I know there is no winning here. I am no optimist, I’m not even hopeful. There is no good, happy ending that I feel you wish to have. There is none in sight.” Without warning, Feria began stitch together the wound, helping the remnants of what Thannel had done back together.

“Take what you can get, Raleia.” Feria finally said, and she said it firmly. “Take it all and don’t let it go. Whatever love from whoever gives it. Cherish it. Savour it. It’s all we have left. The essence of what we as dragon wardens, what the Haven stood for.

Believe it or not, I had a friend once.” She chuckled. “I had a friend who believed that we as wardens.. Meant something good to the world. And his essence is all I have left. And if he believed, that what we were, stood for something worth while, than I have to make every moment worth.. Something. You and I had best keep fighting, otherwise we will go down without a word, in silence. And we will have meant nothing.”

Raleia couldn't say it helped… Feria’s words. Self proclaimed, the other Warden was hardly a paragon of encouragement, but it was something, at least. She had little left, it seemed, but what she did have she was going to cherish until her last breath.

When Feria had finished stitched, Raleia looked to the wound with a frown. If it hadn't been sure to scar before, it certainly would now.

“Thank your, Feria. And for what it's worth… you've another friend in me.” A weak smile faded quickly, and Raleia rose, “We should help Coley… and then we need to head out. We may be few in number… but we can still make it count against the Shadow.”

Without waiting for confirmation, Raleia then rose and grabbing her cloak, left the tent to find where Coleite had brought the cart.

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Watching their interactions with a hazy confusion, Coleite nodded when Feria asked her to move the cart. She felt detached from everything around her and for a single momentary lapse in time, wondered if any of this was truly real. She tugged at the runed necklace around her throat, tears welling in her eyes as she did, and ignored the question as she sized up the task she’d be given.

She’d been told to move the cart. The. Singular. But Coleite knew… instinctively, that there were more. More carts, more portable caskets, more proof of the Shadow’s capital sin. Sluggish, Coleite moved, footstep by footstep towards the first cart, the one nearest her and slowly grabbed hold of it’s handles. She was sure, that at any moment they would morph into dark tendrils and whisk her away, into whatever madness had been conjured before.

They didn’t though and Coleite was thankful. It was slow work, pushing the cart through the loose dirt and falling snow. But it kept her mind busy, her body busy… Coley didn’t have to think, she needed only work. She put the first cart out of sight of the camp, near the small crop of woods she had met Thannel and Raleia, however long ago that was, and started back to look for more. At first she was hesitant, rifling through the Orc’s promised goods, and then came the indignation if they dared try and stop her.

But no one did; so she kept looking. And she found four more carts, filled with the remnants of Lisella’s massacre. One by one she pushed them over to the first, lining them carefully and close together. By the time she was finished she’d stained the fresh snow with dark, muddy tracks and lined her red-tinged, dirty cheeks with warm tears.
 
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The carts had been brought to where she, Coley and Thannel had met not too long ago... It seemed like ages, in her mind, now. Infiltrating the city, the palace... rescuing Lo. And it all seemed in vain, considering what had transpired that morning. It hurt, to think on it. To think of all they had lost. Despite what she'd said to Feria - despite knowing to an extent that it was true... that they needed to keep going, keep fighting, she was tired and all she really wanted was to go home.

But with no home to go to what else did she have?

Tears stung her eyes as she approached the wagons, her hands shaking with the pent up emotion she desperately tried to contain. It had all been too much, too intense, and she needed a reprieve, but none would come. Her steps were sluggish and reluctant and her mind fought against the approach. A promise was a promise, however, and she would not let Addiver down.

Arriving, she nodded a silent thank you to Coleite, her voice lost behind the lump in her throat and apprehensively, she neared the first of the carts. Breathing out, the sound shaky, weary, she pressed her hand to the side and closing her eyes, released a small burst of flames. This she repeated with all the other carts until their flames climbed high against the powdery sky. Stepping back, she looped an arm through Coley's, sniffling as she watched the remains burn.

"...I think it's high time we bring the fight to the right people, now..."

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Within the Fog

There was an everpresent ambiance about the fog like a soft howling tone of airy cries. Like a wind, but with no movement through the air. Everything was still and stagnant as if suspended in animation, or at least what could be seen. It was always best to keep the windows closed and the fires lit. Then it couldn't come for them. The fog was an unfortunate byproduct of their endeavors.

“Jesuda of the Cabal has arrived.”

Savere looked up from the hearth where a fire crackled and blazed with its changing dance. He had been staring at it for nearly an hour while lost in his own thoughts, his eyes now dry and reddened from exposure. Time had been lost to him, even to the day for the sun no longer reached them in the denseness of the gray veil. He nodded to his assistant who immediately turned to retrieve the guest and bring her into the room for their scheduled meeting.

Rising from the plush mauve of his cushioned seat, he rubbed away the irritation from his eyes and smoothed back his dark blue locks. The Cabal were important and influential people within the Shadow community, and comparatively he was only just a minor player despite spearheading the movement in the Allied Kingdoms. Jesuda was ushered in and the two were left alone within the room.

Jesuda had traveled all the way from Edros upon his request. Savere, an almost insignificant Shadow Caster in comparison, garnered the interest of the Cabal, and to that he felt honored by her presence. There was no formalities in their greeting. She stood before him stoically, her attire that of Dradmida where the sheer fabric of her scarf wrapped around her neck and hair and veiled her gaslight blue eyes.

“What a mess you've made,” she stated simply. Savere motioned to one of the chairs next to the fire, to which she accepted.

“Threats had to be eliminated by any means,” he responded as they sat. “War was the easiest way.”

“It made answering your request a bit difficult,” she said in return. “But the Cabal is very interested in the portals you've managed to create.”

“We’re making-“

Jesuda held up her hand to halt Savere’s report before he could even start, and he quickly obeyed. Frustration struck him as he was silenced, anger flashing in his eyes as he slowly rested back in his seat to allow her to continue.

“You are a half-elf,” she noted. “What interest does a muddied soul have in a world you cannot access?”

Her words were meant to cut into him. The prejudices he faced from the beginning of his life inspired his course and path into Shadow.

"You don't know I can't access the Origin,” he spat. “I am still half human. I have more of a connection to the Origin than any of you. My grandmother, Lisella, lived among them and bore two children from Origin blood. That Origin blood runs through my veins. How is this at all relevant?”

“It isn't,” she said. “Simply curiosity. Where is Lisella? You said she would be present for the meeting.”

“She…” His voice trailed off as he considered his words. What happened to his grandmother was still somewhat a mystery due to his own lack of understanding. Jesuda awaited his response with interest, her head tilting slightly before propping her chin up with her hand as her arm rested upon the armrest casually.

“She cast one of the forbidden spells found in Kal’katah,” he explained. “At least… that is what I have surmised from accounts. It appears her soul was ripped from this world and merged with the Darkness.”

“Merged?” she repeated in surprise. “Which spell did she cast?”

"Soul banishment on a massive scale,” he said.

“That would have killed her, not merge her with the Darkness,” Jesuda corrected.

“She is not dead,” Savere said. “Nor is she living. She came to me. I was pulled into the Darkness against my will upon her…merge. And she came to me and brought me back out.”

His words further shocked Jesuda as she listened intently, eyes widening with each reveal. “You… went into the Darkness?”

“Yes,” he said. “And I think we all can. I think this is what we needed. I had originally called upon you to bolster our efforts with the strength of the Cabal, but we have always been missing an element which would connect the worlds. Our portals have only been able to reach across distances but not across worlds.”

“And you believe that is achievable now?” she questioned.

“What was written in Kal’katah is true,” he affirmed. “I've seen it, but not just in vision like the Sola had seen. And not like the paintings and charts. I was there in the Origin. Briefly, but I was there trough Lisella. She is the gateway we needed.”

“That is… substantial,” Jesuda stated. “I will send for the Cabal.”

“I appreciate your support,” Savere said with an inclination of his head, “but there is a matter which will set back our efforts if not handled swiftly.”

“Then deal with it,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “It will be a month’s time before they will get here regardless. We have time.”

“I may be able to expedite such an endeavor,” he said cryptically. “But first, before we go, I would like to request a favor. I have a Vuaturi held captive and I need information from him. The Cabal is known for their mind infiltration, and I would be indebted to you if you would extract the information I need to proceed.”

There was a flicker of annoyance in Jesuda’s expression beneath the sheer veil as she considered his proposal. “Very well,” she said. “Show me to this Vuaturi.”


The UnderElm

The Stranger pursed her lips at Waethrin’s blatant distrust. But what grounds had she given to deserve it? She was avoiding revealing her identity to people she did not know but requested they follow her to their freedom. “I don't know who I am,” she stated simply. “Does that give you more ease? I can remember my purpose but not my name. This place makes you forget things. So while I can remember enough of what does matter, we need to move.”

“Forget…” Idhrenan repeated the word and felt her fear grip her soul once again. She didn't want to forget, but in remembering she would be lost, and she was advised not to get lost. There seemed to be no way to balance out the obstacles within the UnderElm, for every path that seemed a solution was just another problem.

"We're in the UnderElm," she explained to Aurea. "We’re not supposed to be here, so we need to keep moving before we’re found.”

They traveled through the darkened tunnels carved from unknown entities. Rumbles and growls moved the earth yet they could never find the source. Anytime a light was seen within the distance, the Stranger would change their course. Some tunnels spiraled upwards and some down further or crossed ways. It was never ending and always so very near complete darkness despite the soft light that followed them. Eventually, they reached a section of entangled roots like a network of webbing the Stranger began to weave through.

“Don't touch anything,” she advised. “It will alert them of our location.”

Idhrenan looked over to Waethrin and Aurea with concern. “What do you make of this?” she asked. “This can't be real… But I see it… I see the magic coursing through these roots.”

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The Plains of Thallas

Five pillars of fire blazed through the gray of winter as the remains of the butchered were put to rest. The orcish army watched, following the example of their leader as Drau’zul stared at the orange flames. There was a reverence for the dead and a respect displayed despite not only minutes ago the orcs were willing to defile them. But Drau’zul felt something in her change as she took in perspective.

She walked over to Addiver’s side, bits of snow clinging to the furs draped across her broad shoulders and the braids of her hair. He didn't look at her. His eyes were fixed on the display that was now the funeral of the unjustly butchered. “I didn't know everyone they killed,” he explained to her. “Most of them were criminals from the dungeons I never met. That's how Lisella was able to justify the butchering. How they all likely turned a blind eye. Thallas was desperate to meet your demands. Your people turned my people into monsters.”

“Gabad was a strategic individual,” she said in turn, her tone soft in consideration. She crossed her arms over her chest beneath the furs. “It was intended to weaken your people from the inside. It's a tactic of war. He knew you would need to resort to drastic measures to achieve the impossible goal.”

“He did just that,” Addiver murmured.

“I have been deeply moved,” Draul’zul confessed matter-of-factly. “We achieved a desirable outcome to our own selfish wants, but at the cost of an entire culture’s well being. You were not our enemies, and yet we treated you as such. The punishment we exacted does not match the crime. Lisella is to blame for the transgressions. The Shadow is the enemy, and we were fools to fall prey to Lisella’s plot.”

“We all have been manipulated,” he said. “That's what we fought against. That's why the Guides were formed. We knew something was not right. We just… we had no idea…”

“Rally your army to march with us,” she suggested. “Let us exact just punishment to those who have wronged your people. You will do this.”

“Will I?” Addiver said with a huff of a laugh.

“The Shadow took my people as well,” she stated. “Our numbers are fewer. With Thallas joining us we may march to the elven city to liberate it from the Shadow and eliminate the threat that plagues your land. You will rally your people. And through this our lands will be united. I want to propose a treaty.”

Without waiting for his response, Drau’zul turned on her heels and called out. “Dragon Wardens! Prince of Elves! Tearful Thall! I propose a counsel of war! Come with me to my tent!”

Addiver watched the orc walk away, and for a moment he looked back to the pillars of fire that streaked the only color to the scene that reached up into the bright gray as snow floated down and began to cover the field more densely. Paulson rode up on his horse as the orcish army turned away to head for their tents and await further orders.

“I heard what was said,” he stated. “I will relay the message to the royal house and advise the guards to remain here. We rally under you.”

He rode off swiftly, addressing the guards before rushing off towards Rosenfall. Addiver looked up at the sky. He could no longer see where Grybil and Eosphelon had flown off to. What if they went to kill his people too? Where was the large earth dragon? How angered were these creatures and who did they place blame? Before heading over to the war tent, Addiver walked over to the remaining Dragon Warden trio.

“That dragon,” he said to them. “The one that fell heavily from the sky. Is it… Is it alright? Is there anything we can do for it?”

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Waethrin
The amount of confidence the stranger displayed was inspiring. She knew not her name, provided minimal information peppered with vague hints as to the threats that may beset them, yet she instructed them to follow, as willing and trusting as children. It was ridiculous, and Waethrin huffed, tension right within him. Yet what other option was there? For all her inferences, the stranger seemed to know best where they were and what they should do next. He certainly didn't, and neither did Aurea, judging by the strong vise her hands now formed about his arm. Idhrenan seemed of even less help; she only muttered forget to herself, over and over again. So at the stranger's beckoning to follow, Waethrin did, placing a hand on he Emasari's shoulder as he moved to give her a reference within the darkness.

It was a disturbing path, the nothing that oppressed them seeming more like a physical weight than any immaterial substance. Worse perhaps were the actual signs of life: the noise from just beyond sight or just through the earthen walls, and the lights. Waethrin shivered involuntarily. He missed having an actual foe to combat; this threatening absence of opponent was unnerving.

The stranger's warning about the root-like structures ahead did not help that feeling. Nor did Idhrenan's exclamation about them.

"I cannot. You must have retained your Arcane sight; I have none of my former abilities left to me here."

He longed to stay put, to not brave foolishly the path before them. Yet to stay was to admit defeat, and to do so without even attempt was unthinkable. Pulling his arm free of Aurea's grasp, he glanced at her.

"Better one at a time. Watch me, and make not the missteps I do."

Yet his age, ever the creeping shadow over his life in spite of the wisdom it had granted him, was his undoing. His sense of self, the ability to know one's body and how it moves within a space, had lessened with the years, and it was all too easy to misjudge an opening. Maybe his shoulder caught a root, or perhaps it was a wayward elbow. For all he knew, perhaps the roots themselves reached out to snag him. However it happened, Waethrin suddenly found himself entwined in the woody threads. He turned, trying to find the source of this threat, only to be greeted by unnatural disfigurement. An elf reached toward him, pores giving why to invasive roots and bark. It was as if he were becoming the thing that now reached for the old Warden. Or maybe the UnderElm was absorbing him. Nevertheless, Waethrin met its eyes, and its face was twisted violently in a frozen and painful scream, and its eyes were void of humanity.

No! NO!

He sprinted forward, giving little heed to both the heat spreading across his own face and the shouts of shock at seeing the Inferno's eye so damaged. His own health, his own life, meant at this moment nothing to him. In a furrow rent in the ground by the Drake's fall, Ancalagon lay motionless. Black steam rose from the dragon's face, turned just so from Waethrin's view. The Warden's feet pounded the earth, like lead though they were, and he drew close to his friend.

Where the left eye of the Warden now sat vacant and shriveled, surrounded by angry flesh, so too was Ancalagon's. Bitter yellow, putrid and nauseous, shone brightly, the skin expoused from his left eye to his jaw in a jagged line. In several places dragonblood seeped through, the skin torn by the ripping of the scales from their seat. Breath came weakly, the breeze causing only a little ripple in the grass near his head, and the Drake whimpered at the touch of his Warden's hand.

And Waethrin fell to his knees, blood streaming down his face to dye his orange toned beard a dark shade of red, weeping in self-pitying sorrow for his inability to protect his closest companion.

And Waethrin fell to his knees, roots slowly entwining his arms and reaching for his head, weeping in self-loathing sorrow for his inability to protect his fellow Wardens, the only family he had left.

@Effervescent @Toogee @Mactomaton

~~~
Ancalagon
If there was comfort to find in this absolute solitude, it was that he would not have to bear it much longer. His chest hurt. It hurt, and not from an exertion that old age might have compounded. It hurt to move; it hurt to not move. It hurt to breathe; it hurt to not breathe.

At least it was a dull pain. It didn't hurt too much, after all. Not as much as this Separation did. Perhaps not as Separated as he might otherwise be; the kind one was still here, showering him with care. Too, he could have sworn he heard other voices, some raised and some not, not what they said was of little concern. He wasn't alone in his loneliness.

The Others were gone. The dragons. Or maybe they weren't. But he couldn't hear them anymore. But maybe he'd be gone, too, if he could. Losing their Wardens had taken its toll.

A stranger was speaking with his remaining Warden friends some distance away; he thought he could make out their shapes. 'That dragon'. How ignorant. He was Ancalagon, the Fires of War! What did this little snack- But no, the effort was too great. The time for indignation was past. It was time for rest. For absolute rest.

It wouldn't be long now.

@rissa @CloudyBlueDay @Elle Joyner
 
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The UnderElm. The stranger may well have said nothing at all, for that name meant nothing to Aurea. The mention of “them” and their attempts to avoid being found only heightened her sense of fear. The young warden was hoping to see the outside world at every turn, yet upon any hint of light, they turned away. Deeper into the darkness they walked, until they came across the roots. Like webbing they drifted down, but the stranger kept going through, careful not to touch. Though Waethrin volunteered to walk through the roots first, Aurea was wary of following.

Aurea could only watch in horror as the roots absorbed Waethrin. An elvish figure spewed out roots to consume the old warden. Aurea realized that the stranger wasn’t leading them out. She was leading them to their deaths! The walls were coming for them. With no magic and no dragon to save them, Aurea’s mind recalled an incident in the woods…

It had only been a few weeks since the Haven fell. It was the middle of the night, yet Aurea was still up. How could she sleep? Her world was turned upside down in an instant. Star light shown upon her face, reflecting off the lines of tears. She needed to get everything off her mind. While Plainswalker was asleep at their campsite, Aurea wandered the forest to gather wood for the fire. Little did she know, someone was watching her.

A man robed in black appeared before her, holding a torch to light his path. He made no effort in maintaining a stealthy approach, yet Aurea only just noticed him as he stopped in front of her. The man, with his pale skin and slick hair, looked like the classic shadow mage Aurea was told about in the Haven. Yet he showed no malice toward the young warden. Rather, he had a look of concern etched across his face, especially after taking notice of Aurea’s red hair.

“Oh,” the traveler sighed, “another child orphaned from the Haven. Such a tragedy, being betrayed by those you were sworn to protect.”

The traveler sat down upon a log and offered Aurea a seat next to him. She chose to stand.

“My name is Balthazar,” he began, “and despite what your wardens have told you, I am not your foe. In fact, I see myself more as a humanitarian. You and I aren’t so different.”

“You use magic that corrupts you and those around you! It is an evil magic!”

Balthazar merely nodded to Aurea’s claims, as if halfway agreeing.

“Your first claim is not wrong. Indeed, we of the shadow pay a heavy toll to change the world. But evil? Can magic be evil any more than a sword or spear or bow? No, it is the one who wields, that is the one you should judge. Yes, there are shadow mages that have ill intent for society. Do you want to know a secret?”

Balthazar reached out and calmly took Aurea’s hand to comfort the girl. Aurea was shocked, not for the act of kindness, but that she allowed him to take her hand. Maybe his arguments were without proof, but they made her think. And that scared her. She continued to listen, hoping to find something that she could use to disprove his claims.

“There are those of us that think highly of the wardens,” Balthazar continued, “In capable hands like yours, the shadow can save us all, warden and shadow mage alike. Yes, your life will be shorter, but it will be brilliant. No one will forget what you have done for them.”

“No! Leave me alone!” Aurea pulled her hand away and backed away. In her loss, a kind soul offered her a second chance in the form of shadow magic. She knew well enough not to take his offer, and yet she didn’t have much left. The young warden still held on to hope. By hope, she meant a wide awake dragon headed her way. Balthazar was unsuspecting and continued to woo the girl.

“Do you not see?” he said as he stood up and followed Aurea. “You are alone. The blood of the wardens is all but spent. The Allied Kingdoms have betrayed you. One day, you will need to save the last of the wardens. Darkness will surround you. All I ask is that you do not succumb to it. Take control. Wield it. Use my magic, I beg of you. It is the only way to save the last of the wardens and bring them to a new era of peace.”

At this point, the forest thundered with the footsteps of a dragon. Balthazar’s eyes widened in fear as he looked at Aurea. She had a new resolve, no longer tempted by his sweet whispers.

“I am not alone.”

Balthazar disappeared into smoke just before Plainswalker’s foot came down upon the place he once stood. Aurea wasted no time in mounting onto her dragon and fleeing. Her first encounter with a shadow mage ended in victory. And yet…she was thinking. Could she wield shadow magic for good?

Those thoughts were pushed back as dawn broke and a farmhouse came into view.

“One day, you will need to save the last of the wardens. Darkness will surround you. All I ask is that you do not succumb to it. Take control. Wield it.”

Aurea had tossed those thoughts in the back of her mind once she found Alfwin and eventually Id and the other wardens. But now, as Waethrin seemed broken by the roots, the siren call of shadow came to her once more, pleading with her to save him. Tears rained from her face as the elder was giving in. She needed a way to cut the roots. Aurea’s eyes caught sight of the scabbard around Waethrin’s hip.

While the roots were concentrated at Waethrin’s location, Aurea rushed forward into the open space. She reached for the sword and backed away to avoid the thickening roots. The young warden took the sword with both hands and cried out to the wooden elf.

“You won’t take him! I won’t let you!”

Despite her inexperience, Aurea rushed in and started hacking at the growth around Waethrin. It was inelegant and she came very close to taking off the old warden’s arms. But her clumsy slashes were hopefully enough to free Waethrin from becoming living fertilizer.
 
She took a deep breath, followed by many more, all ragged and shallow and selfish. Her hands shook as Raleia lit the carts ablaze, they ached, clenched... Tucking them in her riding leathers, Coleite glanced over a shoulder and listened to Drau’zul with Briseis’ shadow lingering comfortably in the distance.

Coleite turned back round, stared at the blaze that grew and rose to the heavens. Raleia, finished with her duties looped an arm through her own and Coley choked back a sob. She shook her head, trying her hardest to expel the thoughts that plagued her mind. Leaning her head into the crook of Raleia’s shoulder, she took a moment to compose herself and as awkward as it felt… it was also rejuvenating. She thought of what Drau’zul had said and felt the fire of revenge light the insides of her soul.

Raleia and Feria. And herself. As far as she could tell they were the last. The last of a great line of fierce, flame-kissed defenders.

She shook herself from her reverie as Addiver strolled over, the toll of the day weighing heavily on him, as it did with everyone in witness. She listened to him with a heart too strung to feel and quickly made up her mind.

“He’s dying.” Coleite stated matter of factly. The realization was harsh, even coming from her own voice. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she finished. “And I don’t know if there’s anything we can do for him…”

Unlooping her arm from Raleia’s, she nodded towards Drau and the tent the new zul swept into. She left the two older Wardens to care for the dying fire drake… that was just too much for her aching heart. She’d saved Lo… but she would not see the end of the Inferno’s Fire of War…
 
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Raleia’s eyes moved from the fire as Addiver approached. It wasn't what they deserved… but it would have to be enough. As much as possible, it had to be enough. Tears misted over her vision as she looked to the guide. In the dramatics which had followed Drau’s secession to Commander, and Feria’s insistence on fixing her wound again, Raleia had not forgotten Waethrin’s dragon. He hadn't seemed at all well when she had left him…

Coley moved away, disappearing into the tent and Raleia frowned softly. She should have followed, but she couldn't will herself to go. Talks of war… of more violence. She had meant what she'd said. It was time to bring the battle to the Shadow. But in that moment... She needed a break.

They had all lost too much that day, and it seemed more loss was to come. Moving from the pyre, giving Addiver’s shoulder a squeeze as she passed by, she made her way back towards the small throng, back to Anacalagon. As she arrived, she was met by the familiar pattern of Winnock’s steps and with a small, woeful moan, her dragon lay down beside the elder… nudging Ancalagon with his snout.

Sinking down, Raleia pressed her palm to Ancalagon's side, gently smoothing back against the rough skin. For how little he seemed to regard anyone, Raleia had never doubted Waethrin loved his dragon… for them to part the world together was somehow bittersweet…

“Rest,Weary One...” She murmured, her voice catching in her throat, as she thought of Aurea and Id, of Ollie... Of Thannel... Val... “Perhaps you shall see him again soon… Perhaps we all shall.”

[bg=#F5E538]@CloudyBlueDay || @Effervescent, @rissa[/bg][/bg][/bg]
 

Within the Fog

Delicate fingers slowly sifted through the white hairs upon Thannel’s head. He was helpless to fight back and deny the hands their place upon his temples as gaslight blue eyes studied the tattoos that were faintly etched on his skin. And while Jesuda looked directly at him, she did not regard him fully. He was there, but not there to her. He was an obstacle, and yet powerless to prevent her from infiltrating his mind.

Savere watched in silence, mesmerized by the simplicity of the Cabal’s most powerful spell from the other side. The elf’s body tensed at first, and then fell limp as he succumbed to her will, eyes rolled to the back and head held up by her hands. She was calm, still, a work of art. There was an appreciation in how simple Jesuda made it look, and he desired to know the secrets of the spell so dearly. Surly his endeavors would earn him a place within the Cabal.

Her hands released allowing Thannel’s head to fall, his body dangling from the chains that bound his wrists to the support beams. Savere felt his heart flutter in excitement, ready to receive whatever information Jesuda uncovered. Turning to him, she smirked almost coyly as her head tilted with a thought she was about to share.

“It's a shame the spell was too much for Lisella,” she said. “But it worked. The Darkness has been tapped into in such a way that would further bridge the gap.”

“I can access it,” Savere said. “We can go anywhere in the world. I can teach the Cabal how to do it. And we would be unstoppable.”

“Don't get power hungry, Wallace,” she said with a disapproving roll of her eyes. “It's unbecoming. The Cabal isn't interested in world domination like the elves.”

“Strength in numbers,” he pointed out. “If we help their cause they'll help ours. It's what I've been aiming for. We March on Folath to harvest souls for the portal. It serves both sides.”

“And you are representing both sides then?” Jesuda asked. “A half-Naveri rejected by the elves representing both sides?”

Her rhetorical question was intended to demean him, and she even huffed a little laugh in amusement. Savere set his jaw as he hit back the bubbling anger.

“They respect me because I am powerful,” he retorted. “They've seen what I can do. And I am still alive, unlike Lisella. Both sides have been loyal. And it was through me we were able to recruit Dragon Wardens.”

“Your power can only go so far,” she dismissed. “There are three pendants that null our magic completely to the wearer. This Vuaturi helped in the design. Were you aware of this?”

A shake of his head was all he could manage, mouth agape as he fought for another retort.

“That's impossible,” he said.

“It's the unfortunate truth,” she stated. Her arms crossed with the jingle of bracelets and medallions like tinkling chimes. “Were you looking for specific information? He was quite the read.”

“Their plans, information about the armies, anything useful, really,” Savere said. “The orcs marched down from the North but their path was to Rosenfall. I wondered if they would come to us next.”

“That is a possibility,” Jesuda stated. “It was discussed. Gabad’zul looked to be a stubborn orc with an interest in chaos. But… according to what the Vuaturi saw Lisella had a weapon of thunder that pierced the orc leader. If they are under new rule…”

Her voice trailed off to allow Savere to fill in the blank spaces on his own. Truthfully, anything could fit in the blank spaces now. They didn't know who took over or if a new orc leader was appointed. It made the possibilities endless and frustrating. He hated not knowing he would succeed. He wanted to know he would win and get what he wanted.

“I’ll lead the march on Folhath as soon as possible,” he said. “We have plenty of lanterns for the souls.”

“You have a promise to keep,” Jesuda reminded. Savere had almost completely forgotten to the point where he bit back the compulsion to ask what she was referring to. It took a moment for his memory to jog.

“Yes,” he said, and placed a hand upon her shoulder. “Now concentrate on a location. Perhaps Bastillos.”

Jesuda’s eyes narrowed as she watched Savere through her sheer veil, but after a time a deep void encompassed them as black as night and as silent as nothingness. They were gone.


The UnderElm

Idhrenan screeched as Waethrin was pulled into the grasp of an elf-like root. It was gnarled and deformed and looked in constant agony as it held the old Dragon Warden in a vice. It cried out in a high pitched multi-toned squeal as Aurea hacked and slashed at the bark of its limbs and form, splinters flying from the course.

“Get him out!” the Stranger commanded urgently as she jumped in to pull the root from the Dragon Warden. It took a moment for Idhrenan to snap out of her stupor and register the urgency, but she quickly dived in to relieving Waethrin of his ailment. Which also took a lot of careful positioning away from Aurea’s haphazard swinging. But eventually Waethrin was freed, the root now mangled and wailing in agony.

“Waethrin?” Idhrenan called out as they rested him on the loose dirt that surrounded the webbing of roots.

“We don't have long,” the Stranger advised in a hushed tone.

“If you're suggesting we leave him-”

“That's not what I'm suggesting,” she clarified against Idhrenan’s accusation. “But we will need to prepare ourselves if the old man does not wake up soon. He’s lucky he got out. I was held captive by one of those things once. I think that's why I can't remember my name. Things here… This whole place makes you forget. Replaces it with fear.”

Idhrenan turned to Aurea with concern. They both were experiencing the repercussions of fear, but she was unsure of the damage done to both Aurea and herself. She could remember her name, and Aurea’s, and Waethrin's. That was enough to relieve her nerves even just a little.

“Aurea,” Idhrenan said. “How are you feeling?”

@Red Thunder @Toogee

The Plains of Thallas

Another blaze of orange bit through the grey as Ancalagon was laid to rest. The heat from the fires melted the snow, disallowing it to accumulate around the funeral pyres set for the passed. While the orcs were less solemn, the elves and Thalls paid their respects, for they knew the toll better. Earth attuned Sur took to etching a stone nearby to commemorate the event.

Those called to the main tent gathered around the table set with a map upon it. Drau’zul studied it thoughtfully as she waited, her thick fingers tracing over the parchment’s expanse as she plotted a course. Addiver entered and stood next to Coleite, though did nothing but nod to the woman in silent greeting before looking back to the map. It was of the Allied Kingdoms that plotted trade routes and roads as well as villages and cities. There were markers to show where the fog settled within Thallas, Faledrin, and the Woodlands. Prince Asal pointed to Folhath.

“There have been several attacks on Folhath,” he explained. “They always seem to come from this direction. Towards the center of all of this. Reports say my people just die with the sound of bells.”

“They just die,” Drau’zul repeated skeptically. “Have any of you been into the fog? Seen what they do? We have a point of interest to investigate but I don't want to send in what little we have without knowing what exactly we’re up against.”

“So you won't march on Rosenfall?” Addiver cut in. Drau’zul looked up from the map to regard the ragged Thall in a thoughtful look.

“No,” she answered. “But after this meeting and after we get all of this sorted out, you will rally your army to join us in the fog.”

“And what if they don't rally?”

“You will have your army join us in the fog,” Drau'zul repeated before moving on. “Does anyone here know first hand what we should expect?”

@Elle Joyner @rissa @CloudyBlueDay
 
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Too many. They had lost too many. The funeral pyre burned high by the time Raleia had left it, her eyes raw from the smoke and from the tears that she had shed. So much devastation wreaked in so short a time. Crossing the field, she made her way to the tent, but paused outside of it, her heart heavy with the thought of entering. War was imminent - whether it was between the Thalls and Orcs, or against the threat of the Shadow Army. It was coming, and there would be no avoiding it...

But she didn't have to stay. She could find Winnock and take to the skies, flee the turmoil until it was so far behind her there was no signs of it. Val was gone. Olsten, too. Thannel... There was nothing left for her but broken pieces and broken people. But they were her people. Her friends, and she wouldn't abandon them, no matter how tempting it was.

Taking a breath, she pushed past the flaps and into the tent, hanging near the back of the small crowd, where she could hear the new orc commander taking charge. Admittedly, though Drau'zul was crude and violent, she seemed suited for the role. Unfortunately, it didn't seem there was time for much planning - and perhaps that was for the best. If there was anything that could be done to stop the fog, standing around chatting about it would hardly help...

Touching her necklace, Raleia frowned in thought for a moment, before stepping forward, "Perhaps a few scouts would be a wise course of action? An army won't go unnoticed... and the fog will make it difficult to stay in any sort of formation or hear orders called out. If we could investigate, first." Looking up, she looked to the orc commander, "Thannel explained to me that this necklace was created by his people to ward of shadow magic. If I'm not mistaken, Feria and Coley have ones similar. It's possible they could protect us, from whatever lies beyond the veil."

[bg=#F5E538]@CloudyBlueDay || @Effervescent, @rissa[/bg][/bg][/bg]
 
"Aurea...Aurea..."

Aurea kept repeating her name, but it meant nothing to her. In fact, she couldn't recall names of anyone. Faces of all those she ever knew, suddenly without name. The two people next to her were important, yet their names escaped her, as if they had only met once or twice. The elf who gave her shelter, the place she grew up, what were they called? The name of her dragon...

The young warden looked around the area in a daze, as if looking for the names to appear. All she could come up with were physical descriptors to call them by. The only things to see were Red, Beardo,...and the stranger. The stranger that kept leading them into the darkness, perhaps the same darkness the shadow mage beckoned her to embrace long ago. The young warden's dazed look turned to anger as she face the one who took part of her memory. A sword was still brandished in Aurea's hand.

"You."

That was the only word she could use to describe the stranger. She pointed the sword at her, as if warning her not to come closer.

"This is a trap," Aurea accused their guide. "You lead us further down into darkness, into that...thing! It's your fault that...he...he....," she struggled to come up with a name for Waethrin. She had forgotten the moniker she just came up with, so she just pointed to him.

"I won't keep walking towards this slow death as you take more from us. I'm taking my friends and turning around. We're going towards the lights. That must be the way out."
 
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Waethrin
The UnderElm
"DAMN YOU!" he cried, tears pouring from his good eye as he lay where Idhrenan and the Stranger had placed him. "DAMN YOU FOR DOING THIS TO HIM! I'LL HAVE YOUR GODSDAMNED HEARTS, YOU HEAR ME, YOU GODSDAMNED BASTARDS?!"

Waethrin saw nothing of the waking world, dark and cold and miserable as it might otherwise be. His mind was given to memory, the memory of the battlefield and the tangible and almost palpable fury he felt within him on behalf of his Dragon. It was perhaps his strongest recollection, tied as it was to such an empowering emotion, and for all the hurt it gave his heart, the old man held it in a certain kind of regard. It connected him to Ancalagon, suffering as they had the same wound on the same battlefield from nigh on the same foe, as any event so experienced by multiple individuals will, regardless of whether they be good or bad.

Yet even as in his mind Waethrin cast a baleful glare upon his opponent, he found he could suddenly not recall why he hated them. His face ached, to be sure, but how it had come to do so was a mystery to him, as was the origin of the wound on his Drake. He frowned, in mind and in body. Why had he forgotten?

We're going towards the lights. That must be the way out.

No! Clarity broke through the haze his subconscious had created, and he sat bolt upright, eye flashing open. Darkness. There were surrounded by darkness. How- It didn't matter. What mattered was that the darkness kept them safe. Aurea must have forgotten. Damn her; he told them to watch and not follow his mistakes, yet she must have touched the roots!

"Aurea!" Leaning back against the earthy walls, he pushed himself to standing and gestured toward the small Warden. "Lass, the Light kills. We hang somehow by a thread here, and we must keep hanging by that thread. Fear not; Idhrenan and I shall keep you safe."

@Effervescent @Toogee
 
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Coleite
”It’s possible they could protect us… It’s possible they could protect us…”

Standing next to the Thall, Coley leaned over the map with a scrutinizing gaze, Raleia’s last words repeating themselves hauntingly in her mind. Her eyes couldn’t help but drift off to the north, where the safety of her mountains awaited but she dragged them halfheartedly to Folhath when the Sur Prince pointed it out. Coleite shared the new Zul’s way of thinking and a skeptical brow raised as she contemplated what the Sur had said.

She touched the runed silver around her neck, glancing at the other two wardens as she did. Coleite didn’t know where they had received theirs, but the old necklace was the only thing she’d been allowed to save from her first life, the short existence she had with her birth family. It was as if… as if they had known, known that she’d need protection, known that it was her fate to succumb to the darkness of this world.

Tears pricked in her eyes and she glanced away, back to the safety of her mountains depicted upon the map. She wiped the saltwater away before speaking to the orc commander.

“We’ll go,” Coley said firmly. “We’ll scout out this murderous fog and chiming bells.”
Tags: @Elle Joyner @CloudyBlueDay @Effervescent
 

Folhath

The fog was ever present in the Woodland city of Folhath, and the air was eerily still. King Helryn N’myr consorted with the recently returned scout he had sent on a perimeter check. She was the only one of three to return, at least so far. This was a rare occasion, for they typically returned these days with not much news to tell. The fog was still present and the wildlife gone. Hunting parties had to travel days to reach the end, and by that point there was likely an ambush waiting for their return.

The Shadow Casters could move through the fog as if unhindered by the veil. Only those attuned to the Arcane were allowed to scout, for even the trees grew quiet with their whispering.

“I saw the Shadow Caster take his soul here,” she said in a hardened tone as she pointed a little southward on the map. Helryn stroked his beard thoughtfully as she spoke.

“Take his soul, you say?” he asked.

“They collect them in lanterns,” she explained. “We weren't sure at first because we always saw them with the things but never witnessed the act. It’s coerced with the sound of chimes.”

“I've heard such a sound in the fog,” the king said thoughtfully. “But I had no way of describing it. The tones are...otherworldly.”

“They're closing in on us again,” the scout said. “I'm sure of it. There were more of them this time. And so close.”

“The Harvesters come,” Helryn said. “Find Danre and tell her to ready the soldiers and bring the elders and children to the Burrow. I suspect another attack is immanent.”


The UnderElm

The shouts from the Wardens and screams from the root echoed hollowly through the darkened spaces of the UnderElm. The stranger stood near motionless as Aurea spouted accusations, and all she could muster was the slight shake of her head as doubt filled her mind. Idhrenan looked her over and placed a hand on Aurea’s shoulder for reassurance in what Waethrin promised. Their guide was a stranger, and perhaps just as much of a trickster as anything in this place, but never the less they would protect Aurea however they could.

“The light,” the stranger began to explain, though she stumbled over her wording. “It's not what you think it is. I don't remember what it is, but it's not something you want to go near.”

“If you can't remember, what is to say you're wrong in what you think?” Idhrenan countered. “How do you even know where you're going?”

“I've been stuck here,” she answered. “I don't know how long. But I know I saw a gateway. It's unmistakeable in the Realms. I know how to activate it and how it works, at least for now. This place makes you forget things. We don't have much time before the girl is lost.”

Idhrenan looked over at Waethrin in concern. Aurea couldn't even remember her own name much less theirs. She wanted his council, but was he even of sound mind after what he endured? The root that had grasped him cooed as if sobbing.

A groan echoed through the tunnel followed by the rumbling of the earth. And a spot of light, small at first yet unmistakable, glistened from the way they had come and grew with the quake.

“We need to run!” the stranger urged. She waited nervously in place for the three as Idhrenan grasped Aurea’s hand.

“Don't be afraid,” she said. “We need to run.”

@Red Thunder @Toogee

The Plains of Thallas

Drau’zul looked between the two Dragon Wardens, eyeing their necklaces. She coveted them greatly, and debated on requesting them for her scouts to use rather than sending in one of their more powerful resources. “Can it hide your dragons?” she asked.

“Judging by the size and nature of the runes,” Prince Asal cut in, “I would wager not.”

“The dragons could still go with them,” Addiver suggested. “I've seen some Dragon Wardens use it as a tactic before. They travel on foot and not only does the dragon provide a good distraction but it's also another set of eyes. They have a mind link that allows them to communicate over distances.”

Standing upright, Drau’zul crosses her arms over her chest and considered the tactic with a few shallow nods. “Very well,” she finally said. “The Dragon Wardens will scout ahead into the fog. Go as far East as you can. The Crying Man-”

“I wish you wouldn't call me that,” Addiver muttered while the orc leader continued.

“-will rally as many forces in Thallas as he can and have them march here,” she said as she pointed on the map. It was the fields just outside where the fog was located. “Three days. We meet there and plan our course through the fog. Dismissed.”

Addiver wasn't entirely used to such forceful commandments the way orcs tended to handle affairs. He turned towards Coleite and Raleia as he playfully feigned a wince.

“Don't we all have a full plate,” he said. “Good luck out there. You're not allowed to die or anything.”

Eyes darting away, Addiver pushed back the canvas and exited out into the snowy field. White had finally dusted over the grass in a thin sheet causing the mud to loosen at their feet. And in the distance the pillars of fire blazed on in a solemn orange glow.

@Elle Joyner @rissa @CloudyBlueDay
 
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She would have preferred, if she'd dared to say as much, to leave Winnock behind. The idea of traipsing into the fog was daunting, and she had certain protections that most did not, but entering it with Winnock within range? Knowing the fool of a dragon was too stubborn for his own good - that he would undoubtedly come to her rescue for as little as tripping over a tree root or slipping in mud...

But all the same, the further away he was, the less chance -she- had of protecting him, and that was considerably less appealing than the alternative. And so she gave a nod to the orc commander, then turned to Addiver with a small, faint smile, "You either, my friend... Be safe." His mood had improved, and in truth, her own had risen since the small funeral. Perhaps their fates were sealed... perhaps those of their friends had been, as well, but there would always be hope. Even if she had to find it in the smallest corner of the world, even if she were all that remained to find it...

She could not let go, as she had before. She could not relinquish her grip on the light - or there really would be no chance of making it through to the other side.

"We should head out..." She nodded to the other wardens, before turning to exit the tent.

[bg=#F5E538]@CloudyBlueDay, @Effervescent, @rissa[/bg][/bg][/bg]
 
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Waethrin
The UnderElm

The old man snorted at Idhrenan's assurance to the poor girl. Don't be afraid? Why not? The darkness about them was certainly oppressive but was itself nothing to find fear in. Perhaps this was what the woman (she'd gone by some title or other; what was it?) meant. Yet Waethrin knew better, and he knew that she knew better. The Light itself was appealing, seductive, inviting, and if any of the ancient stories told to children held weight, such things were more than detrimental. Though to be honest, none of them came to mind. And yet, who could say what lurked in the Dark itself? The roots were good example that even the Darkness offered no security to the wayward Wardens. Not to their strange companion.

Their companion. The septuagenarian stared at the Stranger with no attempt at subtlety. She was perhaps the thing to be most afraid of; those self-same stories regularly involved the wolf in sheep's clothing. He grimaced. They were too far involved, with the only choices that of two unknown and only potentially bad ends. So he went with his gut, and with Idhrenan's, and kneeled down in front of Aurea. The poor child still seemed nigh catatonic; she would not run well, and neither of the girl's companions would even consider leaving her.

"Up, lass," he groused, gravely tone pushing its way through chapped lips. "Climb upon my back. It's bow will make holding on the easier.

"And be not ashamed of fear." The admonishment came more easily than he might have expected, and though he looked at Idhrenan as he gave contradiction, it was without anger. She had seen much in her life, but no one knew everything. "All feel fear; it is not unique to you. What separates a- um, Us from others is that we use fear as motivation. Sometimes for bad..." His voice cracked before he cleared his throat and continued. "But sometimes for good. Climb up. I fear the Light, but I'll be damned if it catches any of us."

@Effervescent @Toogee