So thick was the air with smoke, that one might think they were being choked by tendrils of darkness.
Virathus stood beside what had been left of the mighty river he and his comrades navigated - a thin stream that flowed away from a fire so mighty that it both blotted out the sun, and replaced it.
Around him strewn were bodies, all charred and mutilated. Gripping the axe that bore the inversed Eschevard sun and a spear, he followed the trail of the Nenya that his old Kommandant had charged. Similar to the stroke of a thick paint brush, the trail made clear it had crawled away. Keen to hunt down his injured prey, Virathus set off quickly.
Gazing onwards, images flashed across his mind as his peripheral vision betrayed his better sense to ignore the arduous path. Smashed statues of the Emperor he served, the bodies of his bannermen, the heirlooms of House Krupp - all seemed consequence of conquest. Of being the conquest.
From ashy grounds, a bog soon formed ahead of Virathus. Racing harder against the adversity, he slogged through and soon found ahead of himself the kneeling Nenya.
Strained was every action of the once mighty tree beast. What seemed to be a charred, gnarled face peered to Virathus in agony as he turned towards the stream. Of its three legs, only a stump remained. Akin to a tree being burned for charcoal, the Nenya seemed little more than sentient cinders.
Flames raged now behind the top of the peak, a small stream eking out every drop of water it could. Ground once again became solid, and the man picked up his pace before tossing his spear at the crawling monstrosity to no avail; it struck with no reaction as the Nenya pressed into the stream - and it began to redirect down its own path. Pushed by the stream along its own path, it struggled against the tide of time as it was pushed before Virathus.
Axe readied, he swung at it as it passed, smashing clear one of its Cinder arms. But as he readied to strike again, he was struck and thrown by a healed arm. Reorienting himself as he stood from the attack, he bore witness to a healed Nenya before him, as the water seemed to have healed him.
Corpses now reanimated, rising now as Nelfin. Grabbing their arms, they prepared to seize the isolated man as he readied his axe - but it was then the smoke began to break, and the darkness relinquish to light. As the Nelfin men approached Virathus, they first slowed, then petrified before his very eyes. Gazing again to the origin of the stream, the harsh Sun rose above all. Turning again to the Nenya, it seemed the healing it experienced was being undone, yet charged the man in an attempt to overpower him whilst it could.
Bracing himself, he gripped his axe so tight the handle grew hot to the touch as he swung. The familiar gnarled and miserable expression of the Nenya was in full view as it was struck by the now flaming axe, the beast of cinders became ash, and was sent back into the stream it redirected. The petrified Nelfin soldiers all around crumbled as the Nenya's stream was once again blocked.
Heaving from exhaustion, the man gazed again over to the dawn - but he bore witness to a woman in red, with long flowing hair approach him with his own axe. Realizing he was disarmed, he tried to flee, but found himself petrified. Bracing for death, he tried to utter a prayer, but was interrupted by the woman:
"Perhaps you would fare better if you pleaded to me, instead of counting on the strength of those not present."
Though horrified, she only smiled warmly as she offered him the axe. Freed from his immobility he accepted the axe, the Eschevard sun upon it now alight. Gazing back to her, she seemed to be leaning forth to whisper, but the vision began to lose visual reason or sense.
Virathus stood beside what had been left of the mighty river he and his comrades navigated - a thin stream that flowed away from a fire so mighty that it both blotted out the sun, and replaced it.
Around him strewn were bodies, all charred and mutilated. Gripping the axe that bore the inversed Eschevard sun and a spear, he followed the trail of the Nenya that his old Kommandant had charged. Similar to the stroke of a thick paint brush, the trail made clear it had crawled away. Keen to hunt down his injured prey, Virathus set off quickly.
Gazing onwards, images flashed across his mind as his peripheral vision betrayed his better sense to ignore the arduous path. Smashed statues of the Emperor he served, the bodies of his bannermen, the heirlooms of House Krupp - all seemed consequence of conquest. Of being the conquest.
From ashy grounds, a bog soon formed ahead of Virathus. Racing harder against the adversity, he slogged through and soon found ahead of himself the kneeling Nenya.
Strained was every action of the once mighty tree beast. What seemed to be a charred, gnarled face peered to Virathus in agony as he turned towards the stream. Of its three legs, only a stump remained. Akin to a tree being burned for charcoal, the Nenya seemed little more than sentient cinders.
Flames raged now behind the top of the peak, a small stream eking out every drop of water it could. Ground once again became solid, and the man picked up his pace before tossing his spear at the crawling monstrosity to no avail; it struck with no reaction as the Nenya pressed into the stream - and it began to redirect down its own path. Pushed by the stream along its own path, it struggled against the tide of time as it was pushed before Virathus.
Axe readied, he swung at it as it passed, smashing clear one of its Cinder arms. But as he readied to strike again, he was struck and thrown by a healed arm. Reorienting himself as he stood from the attack, he bore witness to a healed Nenya before him, as the water seemed to have healed him.
Corpses now reanimated, rising now as Nelfin. Grabbing their arms, they prepared to seize the isolated man as he readied his axe - but it was then the smoke began to break, and the darkness relinquish to light. As the Nelfin men approached Virathus, they first slowed, then petrified before his very eyes. Gazing again to the origin of the stream, the harsh Sun rose above all. Turning again to the Nenya, it seemed the healing it experienced was being undone, yet charged the man in an attempt to overpower him whilst it could.
Bracing himself, he gripped his axe so tight the handle grew hot to the touch as he swung. The familiar gnarled and miserable expression of the Nenya was in full view as it was struck by the now flaming axe, the beast of cinders became ash, and was sent back into the stream it redirected. The petrified Nelfin soldiers all around crumbled as the Nenya's stream was once again blocked.
Heaving from exhaustion, the man gazed again over to the dawn - but he bore witness to a woman in red, with long flowing hair approach him with his own axe. Realizing he was disarmed, he tried to flee, but found himself petrified. Bracing for death, he tried to utter a prayer, but was interrupted by the woman:
"Perhaps you would fare better if you pleaded to me, instead of counting on the strength of those not present."
Though horrified, she only smiled warmly as she offered him the axe. Freed from his immobility he accepted the axe, the Eschevard sun upon it now alight. Gazing back to her, she seemed to be leaning forth to whisper, but the vision began to lose visual reason or sense.
____
Exiting his quarters, Virathus wrote from his estate to the Staargir and priestesses he had come into contact with. Detailing his vision and reporting on the one he had prior, he became anxious in trying to find reason in his indulgences in the mushrooms he received from Drixagh.
