Open [Event] gemini

[Kirin]

Winter 60th 125

A Druid's Grove requires extensive care in cultivating and expanding it. Once it has been cultivated, it can grow wild and flourish far past a normal patch of forest. For the Royal Guard of Xie Chūntiān, the Dryads of the Moonflower Clan carry the bond of a communal grove. This communal grove extends to the furthest reaches of Hatairu, and except for Futorisugi lands, makes up the vast majority of the wilderness. For a druid's grove to be razed is the highest form of insult; for a Dryad's grove to be razed is a step towards the mass annihilation of the offenders. The nature of forest fires is understood by any druid of skill, but the nature of man scorching the earth is another beast entirely.

Kirin could feel the echoes of pain her grove endured even from miles away. The outer reaches of Hatairu had been under siege for days, and she had spent much of it in a defensive position of the Spring Ancient. There was little they could do but wait, and she was long tired of waiting as their lands were ravaged and their grove grew smaller by the mile. Kirin was a formidable druid, but the recovery of the region was going to take years, even with all of the Dryads working together.

She wanted to start the recovery process early.

--

Kirin was only a mile from the front lines, but the thick smoke from the fires had blotted out the sun even further inland. The aura of death encased everything, and the sounds of combat, the beating of dragon wings, and the explosion of bullets could be heard here - but the grove lay intact, and Kirin could feel the trees struggling to avoid the fate of their sisters. Where she stood was almost silent; Moonflower and Futorisugi fighters were further away, and she could not immediately find any Huo in her surrounds. She began to weave herself a small orb out of the roots of Xie Chūntiān, strong as steel, and growing slowly into a large sakura tree¹. It would take several minutes. A flurry of knife-sharp sakura petals were carried by Zephyr gently on the wind² around her, but as she worked her Draoidh, she was prepared to annihilate anyone who tried to sneak up on her into shreds of a person.

: Spell Reserves

Saol Spell Reserves: 1
¹ -0.25 [Floramancy (Master) within grove.]

= 0.75 Saol

Aether Spell Reserves: 1
² -0.11 [Aeromancy (Journeyman)]

= 0.89 Aether

 

[Sjal]

Despite having lived in Jian for a little over a season, Sjal had never experienced a real War. Skirmishes, sure. Encounters with dangerous animals, always. But a war? She could see now why aelves brainwashed humans to keep them nice and peaceful. If conflicts could grow to these proportions, Sjal didn't know if people deserved free choice.

But now wasn't the time or place for philosophical ponderings. She had a mission… But that had all gone to shit. They had reached the front lines according to plan but that was where planning had fallen flat. The squad she'd been apart of had met up with a larger force and once the fighting start… well long story short – Sjal's resistance to fire was the only thing that allowed her to get by unscathed.

She was about a mile from the front lines now, but she had no idea if she was even going in the right direction. The polluted sky made it impossible for her to go up and check for herself. She was stuck blinking from branch to branch as some of her comrades ran on the ground below her.

Little did they know… they were not running in the right direction. They were running further into enemy territory. It should have been obvious, but everyone was disoriented and most of them knew that turning back would throw them back into the fray.

"Sucks to be them," Sjal thought, noting how those on the ground didn't have mounts. They'd probably died and what good was a cavalry with no mounts? She had a feeling that they would all die, despite still being armed with a variety of guns. It would be simple to simply teleport them back home but… she wasn't going to waste that energy unless she had to.

It wouldn't be long before they would be within earshot of the one who was tending to the forests.

 

[Mercy]

​

The skies transformed from a serene, picturesque blue dome painted with oyster-white clouds into an amalgamation of ash and brimstone. The once idiosyncratic scenery had become a chaos-filled warzone. Screams of terror and agony echoed about the grass-filled forests as the wind carried gunshot and black powder. Mercy, accompanied by Wraith, took pause amid the brutality and corpses that were strewn about. The "Ghost of Jian" was certainly no stranger to death. He found peace within himself despite the odds being heavily stacked against Moonflower. The place he called home, Hatairu was under siege, and Mercy would certainly answer the call.

Gossamer thin strands of his onyx-colored hair fluttered about within the dim breeze. Mercy came prepared to fight not only for his life but for the livelihood and honor of his clan. He would soon enter the fray, black-clad in his Tatami-gusoku armor with steel-laden Waraji beneath his feet. He wore a lighter-weight folding armor more resistant to slashing attacks than penetrating projectiles. The male placed his left hand upon his Katanas kashira, and clasped the kurigata with closed eyes using his right. Mercy was one of the best swordsmen in all of Moonflower. He knew the Katana just as well as his flesh and treated it like an extension of his arm.

With a left thumb placed upon the Habaki; the Samurai gracefully slowly drew his blade. There could no longer be honor when battling against enemies who do not follow the same tradition. Water from the nearby stream flowed in between his legs, and began to stir, bubble, and then writhe. As the Mune exited its imprisonment the water rose; like tides colliding with the shores. The Samurai angled his Saya forward with his right hand and wrenched control of the small stream. This only amounted to approximately six, thousand gallons and gathered at Mercys feet.

The Samurai could hear the pitter-patter of several hundred footsteps. The enemy approached, however undisturbed he continued the slow, traditional process of drawing his weapon. The Katanas Hamon had been freed from its Saya, and Mercy widened his stance with slightly bent knees. Aether is indefinite, and commands other forces; the Samurai was but a Cor'Norai. The seas were his birthright, the tides were his home, and he believed wholeheartedly that the power of Aqua would slaughter every enemy in his path.

Mercy began to sway back and forth, as though he had become one with the tides. In a single motion, his cranial structure dropped forth. The remainder of his blade had been freed from it's imprisonment, and he slashed into the air; a gesture to empower the strike he intended to launch. "By Xie Chuntians will, If I am to die on the field of battle today… Show me no Mercy!" The Samurai yelled at the top of his lungs. Synonymous with the swing of his sword, all six thousand gallons converged, and were unleashed. The Huo soldiers that marched upon Mercy, prepared to fire their weapons were thrown off of their feet, slammed into trees, one another, and pinned in place unable to fire their weapons. Approximately thirty of the men that approached had been killed instantaneously, having suffered fatal injuries from being thrown into Trees with such force.

: Spell Reserves

1 Expert level spell cast to wrench control of 6,000 gallons of water
1 Expert level spell cast to throw that water, using a gesture, and metaphorical expression.