Walking Disasters and Me

Chalky black smoke billows from the valley floor, its putrid wafts scented with iron, feces, and spilt intestines. Its languid waves carried on cries of pain and shock, clung to on robes and armor of amputees and persons with forlorn, thousand-yard stares. Ignorant of explosions of skill, enchanted ammunition, or simple physical impacts that sunder the earth even further and call forth more of that ominous, reaper clouding.

All the while, a beautiful orange dome several tens of miles wide stands firm. Its surface coated in copious and unknown glyphs, ribbons of runes, and interspersed lines of power that taunt and haunt even what was considered the bravest among the doomed attackers. Another frenzied yell of a suicidal charge rushes toward the spectacle behemoth. Another chorus of souls soon to be joining their comrades in passing to the afterlife.

From the nearest entrance to the valley, some miles above the floor of carnage below, three half-step Apogee cultivators stand vigil of the gruesome sight. Disbelief nearly, but not fully, overpowering arrogance. "It has been three days and we have yet to see the vaulted promise of this so called 'greatest mercenary band'. That ignoble bubble of safety still stands strong while our zealous warriors crumble and die like lambs to slaughter!" Says an older human man in golden robes, long white and pointed beard dangling to his knees as his brows furrow beneath a bald head. His stature seemingly frail, but the aura radiating off him quickly would discourage such notions to anyone he dare unleash it to. Or, so he thinks.

"Patience, Kneeling Soul Sect Leader." Replies a woman in plate and chain. Its trim adorned in purples and silvers while the base metal gleams in a similar hue to the enraged patron's cloths to her side. Her features obscured by the metal, but her towering 7-foot-tall stature easily dominating the skyline as she rests her arms against a gigantic steel maul. "We expected delayed results. The last time this barrier was activated, the siege lasted for months. Even then, no discernable crack was found or exploited. You hired us. Trust in the Golden Order's reputation."

A gorgeous plant woman leans against the shade of a large oak, its placement here curious until one remembers the ease at which dryads can summon flora. "Just hope that your forces are durable enough to reach the outer wall of the barrier. The talismans I gave you should disrupt that annoying barricade long enough to get your elite units inside along with some of my sisters. Once that occurs, we will clear the area - as discussed - and then head to our own objectives."

The metal woman hums in thought before her metallic head shifts the faintest of degrees towards the beautiful, dangerous bark skinned woman. "And we are sure we cannot receive any additional assistance from the capitol forces? Surely your Queen would want to be rid of such an... aggressive entity so close to her lands, yet all that we have gained is your support, Spymaster Myerial."

Her face shifts in reply, emotions veiled by the scintillating shift of her bosom, hips, and lips as they curl into a smile. "Fear not. While this may be a... clandestine mission due to tensions with the parties involved, I am prepared to offer any and all assistance I can so long as the terms between us stay true. You two can do as you see fit with the heretics inside down to the last civilian, while my sisters and I reclaim one of our cherished holy places that was robbed from us nearly half a millennia ago."

The tree she leans upon glows in nature green energy before its roots twist and tear through the ground. Its canopy shifting and molding into thousands of arms adorned in spikes and thorns while its trunk cracks and molds into a distorted - but easily identifiable - face. Its power, given that it has been awakened from such a high Ranked spirit of nature, easily rivals and surpasses the two assembled before her as she turns and gives them a wink.

"All you lot have to do is make it to the barrier and open the way. There are hundreds, thousands, of flora in that accursed Village. More than enough to surprise and eliminate the defenders while we deal with that foolish fox and her harem once and for all." A scoff from her enchanting lips, "If only the assassins did their job a century ago, we wouldn't be having these issues..."

The old man - who has kept his lips sealed for this exchange - finally hums a thought as the oaken tree stills itself back to its natural form. "I understand the want and need to reclaim holy lands, honored Spymaster. But forgive me for inquiring why exactly you hold such animosity toward our besieged bounty?"

For the first time in the months long planning, the years long coordinating, and the weeks long journey to this point, a feral snarl imbued with the pure power of nature crosses the dryad's face. Energy cackling around her in green bolts that scorch the land as she growls back with bestial ferocity.

"You know nothingof what was taken from me and my sisters that day five hundred years ago. Do not think yourself empathetic or knowledgeable to me and mine's plight, Sect Leader. Just ease your heart that I am on your side and will honor our agreements to the letter once your task has been completed, and then we shall go our separate ways."

As the other two had pulled back from the sudden display of strength and anger, the pressure put upon them nearly buckling their knees, they just as quickly nod their head in silent acquiescence as the dryad's fury stills itself. With a huff, she turns back to the oak, her robe made of leaves of every shade of autumn twirling in the air behind her as the bark of the tree opens and allows her entry. Her face turning back to the heavily breathing compatriots with an unamused frown.

"Call me when your side has completed its duties, and I will begin the surprise attack. Until then, do not bother me." In a thunderclap of green light under a cloudless sky, the Queen's own Spymaster Myerial disappears from sight to some unknown location. The other two collaborates grimacing as they turn their heads to see thousands more of their forces die in mere seconds for the hundredth time.