Battle:Invasion of Enchanted Kingdom

From HollowWiki

Part of the Battle For Enchantment Arc

Initial Invasion

Initial Invaders: Gruz, Rheven, Vuryal, Tyre, Armitas

Initial Defenders: Moonlight, Gwenilyn, Delacroix, Serienity, Adosa, Valiana, Thea, Keter, Kharet, Ontor, Makenaka

The Gamorgian Ogre tribe begins to shout raucous chants as they slowly walk towards the gates to the pixie kingdom, the magic barrier now not affecting them. The hundred warriors, led by the tribal chieftain Gruz, hold various battle armaments and their armor reflects their past conquests and victories over other races, goblins and orcs to name a few. They begin to tred faster until they are firmly upon the gates, or trees one might say, as the bricks they walk upon begin to be crushed under their immense weight. Soon, they are upon the city's outer breaches, complete chaos beginning as they to destroy anything and everything in their path, hobbit or pixie based it matters not. Gruz leads the way, his warhammer pulverizing anyone foolish enough to attempt to stop this feast of war.

Moonlight, stood in the trees, calls her wind power and becomes as small as she can while pulling her powers to her. As the winds pick up around the army of beasts, Moonlight chants and controls the winds to encircle the army in small groups. As the wind twists and turns around these warriors of hate, the winds become tornados, spinning feverishly and causing the winds to make it hard to move. As these tornados begin to wrap around the ones that are doing harm, Moonlight chants louder and the winds become uncontrolable as they locate themselves around the army, for they have a mind of their own.

Gwenilyn hovers near the ground, watching the approach of these heathens intent on destruction. She shrugs her cape back from her shoulders, giving her better range of motion. Shield up, she begins to sing softly, calling forth her crystal aura of power. As the masive horde begins to close on the gates, she sends her power crashing forth, a massive wall of fire to hopefully bar their way, perhaps scorch an unlucky few. Then quick as thought she enchants the ground beneath the leader, opening a quagmire of mud, hoping to suck him down to it's depths.

Delacroix , having arrived from the North, finds himself facing the backs of a large number of Ogres. The soldier’s eyes grow wide, but as soon as he sees the destruction that the Ogres yield, his gaze becomes one of stone, and he steels himself for attack.

“I am Richter DeLaCroix, second commanding general of the Tier Breche Military, and I am ordering you to cease your attack upon the Enchanted Kingdom!” As soon as he says that, his heart sinks to the bottom of his stomach… He’s one soldier against a tribe of Ogres… His grip tightens on the bastard sword, and the straps on his shield are squeezed even more taut as he prepares for the onslaught that awaits him… Though, at the summoning of the tornadoes, he feels a slight relief wash over him, and he begins searching about for the spellcaster who’s called the funnels to the area.

Serienity stood gazing about the massive fight that was going on before her. Watching intently without much motivation to join into the mess just yet and instead would just continue to watch until joining proved worth to the cause. Fire coming from one way, tornadoes another direction, and a man's voice ringing through the air form yet not to far from her.

Tyre smirks as he watches the Ogres charge the apparently unaware pixie kingdom. A hand gesture tells the drow archers to position themselves in the trees, all taking careful aim as the get ready to rain hellfire upon this enchanted kingdom. Another nod to his captain, and the rest of the drow warriors under Ty's command unsheathe thier weapons and begin to march upon the Kingdom, killing any being that happens to be lucky enough to have gotten by the Ogre's first assault. Though his march is slowed by the sudden burst of flame that comes from the front of the Ogres charge. But soon drow and ogre alike stand within the kingdom, Tyre helping Gruz escape the muddy prison the lone warrior aiding the pixies had in store for him. And just as Tyre and his warriors pass the gate, the drow archers unleash hell upon the kingdom. Magical arrows burst into flames, burning buildings, and causing flames and smoke to rise threw out the town. In mere moments, it seems the chaos of war has begun.

Armitas stayed concealed in the bushes until the battle began. Once the Ogres started their forward march he slipped out and fell in behind them, using their massive bodies to hide from view of the defenders. Slowly and silently, he weaved his way through the tree trunk-sized legs of the Ogre warriors, advancing closer to the frontlines. Some of them fell before him, felled by the Enchanted Kingdom's stalwart protectors. Armitas thought it better them than he and moved on. Such was the mindest of a mercenary. Having made it within arrow range, he readied a bundle of arrows and loaded his modified crossbow. The bundle was held together by dried up twine and once fired the arrows undulations broke the reeds and the deadly projectiles split in mid-air and scattered outward, raining down on on the throng of pixies and hobbits and others that had come to fight at the gates. Unfortunately, a strong gust of wind arose and a few of the arrows were sent off course, striking the ogres as well. Armitas just shrugged this off as bad luck on their part and continued to advance.

Rheven watches as the chaos unfolds, standing quite far back from the front lines, just beyond the two trees which symbolize the gateway to the enchanted kingdom. Robes drape his entire body, mainly for the purpose of concealing his identity in the affair – all the while he watches as drow, ogre, and pixie do battle, yet most of all, he notices the magickal forces that are sure to wreak havoc on the invasion force. Knowing what he must do, the vampiric mage tilts his head low, seeming to fall into a trance of sorts as he calls upon a major spell of sorts. From the area around the mage’s body comes a strange, unearthly mist, snaking and spreading through the gates and the arena of combat as it seeks to envelope the entire battleground. Its effects are noticed as it comes into contact with the burning wall of flame – the flames merely dissipate, and the fierce winds that bring about the summoned vortexes also begin to lessen. It becomes clear that the mage is focusing on a ‘spell’ of magic negation, seeking to build a field of anti magic, stopping all but the most focused and powerful spells. He remains in his trancelike state, unable to move while this is in place, yet his previously unseen dragon, Siriath, comes to a destructive landing just before him, as if daring any to strike its owner…

Pressing onward, the ogres pick up the momentum, havoc their calling card as they decimate the nearest building. Gruz looks up momentarily to see the flames die down and the circular winds all but dissipate into mere bursts, hardly enough to divert such bulky creatures as ogres. He scoffs under his breath, amused at the antics of the pixies and those before the ogre horde. Slits provide a break in the metal helmet upon chieftain's head to peer at the non-pixie before him, a cruel smile coming to the beast as the warhammer tightens in his grasp. He speeds up, swinging the monstrous weapon into a mighty and glorious arc that seeks to open up a rather large gaping hole in the soldier's head, the goblin-skull ordained item a force to be reckoned with as well as the brute strength which swings the weapon of destruction. All the while, the ogres spread out, helped with the negation spell, innocent pixies and hobbits alike succumbing to the brute physical beasts as they are rendered helpless as their spells are ineffective.

Gwenilyn , once she sees the fire and wind die unnatural deaths, notes the figure of Rheven and his dragon. A rage builds inside the Fae, suchas she has never known before. A voice fromm inside her screams to be let out. And so, flying well above the horde and the negations spell, Gwen turns her back on her beloved home in flames and reliquishes control of her body to that which waits. The Fae's body begins to morph, elongating, filling out. A cloud of pixie dustfountains out and downward and in Gwen's place is a full-grown dragon, bright pink scales covering her body, leathery wings outstretched. With a scream of rage that can be heard over the rantings of the ogre horde, the dragon with whirling sapphire orbs folds her wings and dives straight downward, a murderous look in her eyes. Her target is the dragon before Rheven. Her intent ismurder, pure and simple. Talons outstretched and deadly sharp, her maw open and seeking the oponent's throat. Hopefully the surprise of her metamophosis will give her the time she needs to do what must be done.....rid her home of this dragon and its master. At the very least to upset his concentration so that the negation spell evaporates.

Tyre continues on his path threw the enchanted kingdom, every warrior, be it pixie or hobbit or anything else that dare defy him is cut down. Yes, it seems the ranger is lost in bloodlust as he continues to ravage this town. But to his surprise a lone pixie warrior is steadily killing his, and Gruz's warriors like their nothing. The mans magic strong, and his skill with a blade noteworthy enough to catch Da'erthe attention. But just as he begins to walk towards the man, a magical ball of energy comes straight for the drow. But Rheven's magical mist has already surrounded the drow, and it dies and fizzles out before reaching him. This gives Tyre an Idea, as he yells out to.

" Drive them into the mist! Thier magic does not work in it!" Then,as the mist continues to weave it way threw the kingdom, Tyre makes his way to the last of the forces guarding the Castle of the King and Queen on the Enchanted Kingdom. With the mist negating all of thier magic, it seems the pixies are helpless. And as the drow rangers continue to rain down hellfire, with thier fire-arrows, it seems that the Ogres may win this soon enough.

Moonlight quickly puts on her gloves and takes the immortal slayer in her right hand, knowing that going out to take them on is not exactly the smartest thing she can do, yet she must. As she takes the to the shadows becoming one with them for they are her friends, she flies like the blinking of an eye at the knee level at these beast, as she swings the sword with her power she smiles for in that hand she also holds lightning so every time she strikes the lightning flows from her hand to the tip of the sword strikeing the ogres. As her glowing body grows but not becoming any bigger than a hobbit she shoots like an arrow through the maze of ogres hitting quite a few as she dodges most of the hellfire being shot at her. As her body takes the flames here and there she doesn't stop but instead checks Gwen's back before looping around and heading back to come at them again But looking for someone specail.. with an evil grin *

Armitas tries to keep his focus off of the carnage that ensues around him. The cacophany of dying screams and clashing weapons is as disheartening as is it deafening. An assassin prefers a clean, quick kill not a conflagration followed by mass mutilation and maiming. The dead were lucky. It was the dying that had it the worst. Hoobits and pixies left limbless, on fire or charred, their bodies convulsing as they remained conscious. Armitas figured he'd have nightmares for weeks afterward. Readying his poinson-tipped arrows, he let loose another flurry of arrows into the defending warriors. Some were killed, others merely nicked. They'd soon find the will to fight sapped from their bodies once the shadowfire went to work on them. Victory seemed at hand, but never underestimate the power a people could muster when defending their rightful home. Out of nowhere, a pixie grew to normal size and, wielding a frying pan, knocked Armitas to his knees with a hard blow to his skull. Dazed, he slipped a hidden dagger from his bracer and thrust it into the pixie's gut. The blade was dragged up to her sternum, twisted and then pulled out. Her warm guts spilled out onto the blood-stained path and were quickly devoured by Armitas's pet wolverine, Bub. Still dumbstruck by the blow, he wrapped his cloak around him and retreated into the shadows to clear his head.

Delacroix narrows his eyes at Gruz, taking his bigger weapon and fancier (if that’s what it could be called) armor as a sign that he’s the leader of the Ogres. Already does he brace himself against the bigger foe, his knuckles on both hands white as he grips both shield and sword… Twelve years in the military. Promotions for bravery and combative skill… It comes to this. A war for a people he has yet to even engage in casual conversation with… Richter is shaken from his reverie as the chieftain raises his warhammer. The forward arc of it has the human soldier raising his own large shield in defense, and the collision is awe-inspiring… Though the shield itself doesn’t buckle beneath the force of the blow (having been made from mithril), the soldier’s body does. He’s dropped to a knee, and the shield is forced close to his body as the vibrations from the attack ring through his head. Shaking himself free of this fleeting daze, he looks to Gruz from his lowered point of view, before thrusting his sword in a hurry for the Ogre’s groin - the spot where the necessity for movement does not allow for heavy armor… Even as he thrusts his sword at the chieftain, his eyes go wide as he spots the Drow closing in on the Grand Hall of the Pixies.

“No!!!” Withdrawing his sword from steel or flesh (whatever he manages to hit,) he tumbles past Gruz and rises into a full sprint through the battlefield. Knowing that the pixies won’t be able to defend themselves, he leaps over fallen bodies with the skill of a champion hurler - or simply the adrenaline of a desperate soldier… Swords are dodged, warhammers and bludgeoning weapons collide with his shield and breastplate, but he is not deterred. His arms and legs pump as he carries himself through the Enchanted Kingdom - his aim Tyre.

Adosa being not much a fighter waits for her moment, fury and anger growing in the pit of her stomach. Upon seeing her own kind being sliced through, her grip tightens on her axe, her only weapon in her somewhat pacifistic life, and her hands become white knuckled. She pulls out a second axe from her bag and grips one in each hand with the blade pointing downward. Finally she bolts forward, seeing an entry between two large ogres. She sprints through the crowd as fast as she could, attempting to make it to the front, slicing at every ankle or knee she could reach in her short height, hoping to cause a small ripple in the mass of ogres though knowing her strength wasn�t as great as her heart. Yet heart was all she need as she pressed forward into the mass, continuing her slicing and blind chopping until she was struck in the shoulder by a stray arrow, causing her to crumble and fall before a tall drow. She attempts to crawl away, hiding behind a large fallen ogre, trying to recuperate..

Rheven remains still as his anti-magic spell continues to spread through the area. Meanwhile, however, Siriath looses a roar to alert the mage of Gwenilyn, the incoming pixie-turned-dragon. The vampire’s attention falters slightly, causing the spell to progress slower, but still it spreads – still as he remains, Siriath does not, a flap of her wings sending her streaking forth to meet Gwenilyn head on. As the two dragons come within range of each other, the true combat begins; Gwen’s attempted swipe with her talons doesn’t meet Siri’s neck as desired, though it does claw across a scaled arm, drawing forth a spray of draconic blood. Obviously, Siriath isn’t pleased; a hiss of sorts erupting from her throat as the draconic slave backs away suddenly, drawing in a deep breath. With all the chaos erupting around him, Rheven’s eyes suddenly snap open, gazing out on the battlefield, where it appears ogre and drow have begun to dominate the battlefield, taking the fullest advantage of his anti-magic spell. Since the area beyond the gateway is mostly clear, Rheven raises his hand, tucking his forefinger and thumb back in a ‘snap’ – much of the mist dissipates from where it is no longer needed, as the invasion force drives further. Meanwhilst, Siriath finally ceases her drawing breath, and a loud exhale follows; a belch of flames suddenly surges from her throat, threatening to engulf Gwenilyn, along with Moonlight, as well as whatever foliage lies in the destructive swath.

Valiana rushes towards the battlefield, sword clanging softly at her side. Keen elven eyes glow bright with silver flame as they take notice of the destruction. Toned legs tighten as an aire of urgency is relayed. The soft hiss of metal is followed by an elven prayer. The words seem to echo throughout the field drowning out cries of pain and relaying courage...The woman turns her attention again to the battle at hand, scanning hastily for the leaders of the invading army. Agile movements take the battle-hardened woman safely out of reach of the ogre brute's crude clubs; An enchanted blade greeting them where they once thought the woman stood...not bothering to ensure their deaths. Finally the woman locks her gaze upon Tyre and Gruz , assumed to be the leaders of the invading force, choosing Tyre as her target- she cautiously sprints in his direction.

Gruz growls as he is impaled for a moment, but nothing more than a scratch the monstrosity that is the war chieftain. Blood fury now garners up inside the beast as he hears the triumphant sound of battle cries and victories from his brethren, mixed in with the honorable death shrieks of those who fought valiantly. Numbers drop from the ogre warrior tribe, but still holding near seventy strong, more than enough to finish the deed tasked before them. Gruz smirks beneath his blemished helmet, tarnished with the blood of innocent pixies and hobbits, sacrificial lambs for the slaughter before the physically adroit brute, their magic futile in this cloud of negation. He spots the nearest pixie, rendering it to nothing more than a mark upon the path as the warhammer descends upon it in a hastily fashioned blow, destructive nonetheless. The remainder of his tribal band continues to spread out within the cloud, the monsters having their way with the severely undersized physical beings here, proving to be of little resistance in the end. Gruz walks over to the gate, taking up his hammer of chaos, and drives it through the wood, splinters flailing about the area. “Gruz claim pixies.” He says this, now moving to the back of the pack to watch the carnage continue, all in favor of the ogres and their allies in this encounter.

Gwenilyn retains a bit of control of the beast she has become, but only a bit. The glowing pink dragon, magnificent in the sunlight, alters her course as seh sees Siriath draw breath, instinctively knowing what is to come. She executes a banking turn to the right, just as the gout of flame erupts. One wingtip is severely burned, in spite of Gwen's crystal aura. The shock of the burn causes the dragon to withdraw, leaving Gwen once more in Fae form. Flitting as best she can with an injured wing, she does a 360 backflips, landing on Rheven's shoulder her dagger drawn and hopefully at his throat.

Tyre cuts down the last of the pixie elite-guardsmen whom tried their best to stop him from reaching their king. But it seems their sacrifice was not in vain, as this bout the charging Knight Delacroix enough time to reach him. A slight smirk is given off, and as several drow warriors make their way towards this man, Tyre stops them.

"He's mine." He says, never once removing his gaze from the half-elf. Both of Da'erthe's enchanted black sabres are brought forth with one swift motion. An expert swordsmen, The ranger finds better coverage from behind a sword, rather a heavy shield.

" Bring me the head of the King, and leave the queen to the ogres." Another sinister smirk is given off as he says.

"I think they will need someway to "relieve" themselves after this." And as these words as said, Da'erthe gives his opponent a salute.

" Shall I begin?" He says. And before his opponent has an opportunity to reply, he is off. Moving surprisingly quick in full battle attire, he faints this way and that,trying to throw the knight off balance. Several false blows are given off, their purpose to open up the knights defences. And as takes aim for his opponents torso, slashing horizontally with his left sabre, and vertically with his right, he utters a few words in the native tongue of the drow, and a thick cloud of darkness falls about the two, leaving sight near impossible now. This dark cloud also poses a problem for the warrior Valiana, who watches as the two fighters, Tyre and Delacroix, are swallowed by this darkness casted by the drow. Does she dare attack? For she could end up attacking the brave knight Delacroix, as the two are sure to be moving all about this darkness. And suring all of this, the nine drow warriors make thier way into the castle of the King and Queen of the Enchanted Kingdom, sinister smiles upon thier faces as well. What awful fate awaits the king of this peaceful land?

Delacroix slows to a stop just inside the Grand Hall of the Pixie Kingdom, his weapons raised and ready as Tyre steps away from his Drowic army.

“This is madness! (madness, this is Hollow!) Stop now, before you and all of your men are slain!” His voice has a twinge of desperation in it; perhaps the knowledge that the small band of resistance is severely outnumbered is reaching him. All hope for parlay is lost as Tyre charges him, and thus the battle begins, the left blade clashes against the soldier’s own, while the right meets the mithril shield that protected him from Gruz’s warhammer. With the two weapons having met their respective defenses, Richter pushes both outward with the momentum of his guard, and in turn lifts his right leg for a straight kick aimed at the Drow’s stomach. The cloud of darkness that rises does little for his vision but turn it to a colorless view of the battle in black and white. He finds himself suddenly thankful for his Elven heritage - darkvision being one of the benefits.

Adosa pulls the arrow out of her shoulder with one heck of grimace and shifts with the crowd, slowly moving forward between the large ogres and remaining unseen. She ducks behind an old cart and wraps her shoulder with a piece of cloth torn from the remaining of a leather tunic she held in her bag. Once her wound is taken care of she turns around to scan over the havoc and this time decides to leave her axe behind. She gasps in horror as her lovely home is destroyed and speckled with evil or the most malignant kind, like ants over a freshly dropped piece of food. She pushes up her sleeves and stands, preparing to use a little magic of her own. She spreads her arms wide and begins to mumble a few spells beneath her breath. Her eyes and hair exchange color and with a blink, her eyes turn a coal black while her hair changes to a light grey. With a sweep of her right hand ogres and drows alike become entangled with each other, falling bumping into their own comrades. With another sweep of her left hand, fire sparks in the nearest bunch of barrels and with a snap of her fingers from that same hand they explode, sending shards of wood like a swarm of bees, in control by her, in the direction of her enemies. They hit just a handful of drow and ogre and Adosa watches as they fall, a grave-like grin forming on her face. She raises both her hands while stepping forward, floating with her small wings over the cart before her, and walks straight toward the group heading toward her queen. She brings her small hands together I a loud clap, sending just a small wave of sharp sparks that stab like daggers into the first row of individuals before her. She attempts to bring her hands together once more when a large stone hails from her left at great speed from the hand of a large limping ogre, one she presumably had cut before. This attack leaves her fallen and unconscious on the side of the battle field for the remainder of the fight.

Armitas didn't bother going straight through the gates, instead he scaled the wall about twenty yards east of the gates in order to enter the town incognito. Once inside he crouched down and scuttled towards the nearest house and slipped in through a window. The hobbit family cowering inside were left untouched, save for the man of the house who had his chest slashed by Armitas's plague-infested blade. If he were lucky he would survive the wound and recover in a few weeks. Better that than die in battle besides his family. Armitas made his way through the town that way, climbing out one window then into the window of the adjacent house. He cut down every male he came across, leaving the women and children alive. If he were to continue unchallenged he would soon be at the walls of the castle and using his grappling hook to ascend it. With the pixie guards all dead or confronting the Ogre/Drow army at the front door, the backdoor was left unguarded and the perfect entrance for a stealthy assassin.

Moonlight, feeling the fire at her feet, screams out but not in pain but to her mother as the pixie swings her body around to see to Gwen and what she is up to and if she will be ok and smiles to see that another is here as well. as the flames come in around the pixie she folds in her wings for they are only for looks and not needed to fly. as the flames burn across her body she smiles and takes it low coming around swinging her sword again at her foes taking out their legs yet as she weaves in and out of the group she sheaths the sword and flies quickly to her mother where she takes the specail bow and quiver and heads up in the air giving her time to take her arrow and place it in the cross bow and to get pass the dark cloud that she sees as a battle for two. as she chants the arrow glows and lightning snakes out of her fingers and enchants the arrow. as she begins her fall to her target she smiles for this bow doesn't miss as she leaves out way above the fire and the heads of the oges she aims the arrow at the gruz. as she takes aim to take him and his oges out she aimes right between where his top armor piece and the bottom one meets. as she lets the arrow go It slits and becomes two then four as it comes closer to him the arrowns keep muiltpuling yet still perfectly aimmed at his weak spot. Moonlight quickly looks around before aimming again at the mob of oges.

Rheven smirks beneath his hood as the battle passes through the gate and into the heart of the land of Enchantment, though his contentment soon fades as he hears the flitting of Gwenilyn’s wings. Before she can make her thrust – which would be fatal, or nearly so if it landed as intended – the vampire leaps forward. He is too slow, though, and the dagger still strikes, cutting along his left shoulder and giving way to fresh rivulets of precious blood. Because of the blow, he doesn’t land as planned, and instead ends up in a heap, tumbling across the ground clumsily. With a grunt, the vampiric mage slowly makes his way to his knees, then to his feet, ignoring the wound upon his shoulder. The magic-negation spell fades entirely now, though it means little, as the battle is all but over in this area. Staring forth at Gwenilyn, he sneers, a voice coming forth; it doesn’t entirely sound like Rheven’s own, but the source is indeed his own tongue and not that of some possession.

“Foolish took the bait. Look around you now..while you’ve rushed here, your companions have suffered, and the battle is all but lost, for you and yours...” Lifting a single robed hand, he extends a palm forward, indicating the fluttering pixie. A simple chant leaves his lips, and a burst of raw magic erupts from his hands; azure hued, though tendrils of white lace in every so often. This rather basic power streaks forth, leaving a trail of biting frost in its wake. Once it reaches the pixie, it wraps around her, forming a prison of ice that intends to freeze as well as confine her. Meanwhile, the ogres continue lumbering forth, tearing through what’s left of the once mighty wooden gate, crushing any that are stupid enough to stand before them. The arrows that Moonlight shot miss Gruz, as he appears to have faded into the fold in battle, though they do take down a pair of ogres, leaving them wailing in agony as they join the fallen here. In their place though, two more come, storming toward Moonlight with a fury brought on by the sight of their fallen comrades. One swings a massive arm outward, intending to swat her from the air as one would a fly, while another simply charges, intending to plow through her entirely.

Moonlight seeing the ogres coming at her she laughs for she was above their heads their for they miss her altogether. as she readies the bow again she flies towords the scum that has come to cause pain and death to this land. as she takes aim at Rheven she chants and lowers her bow and smiles for this spell will hurt. as she calls the rain could to float just over the head of Rheven and the army of the ogres. Moonlight screams out a cry that shakes the earth causeing a protecting cover over the ones that stand for the good of this land . as the earth wraps around to protect the other she lets the arrow go right into the could causing it to rain arrows down on the ogres as a few specail ones aim right to the chest of Rheven.

Gwenilyn feels momentary despair as she hears Rheven's words. For sure enough, the healer turned warrior had made a grievous mistake. Her homeland in flames, the screams of the dying and injured everywhere, while who knows what is happening to her King and Queen. Still and all she will -not- be trapped this way. Focusing deep within herself, she listens to draconic wisdom. With a smile-turned-sneer she begins to breathe out. Her breath turns to fire, melting the prison the foolish mage thought contained her. Gwen takes just a moment to send a tendril of power through her to warm up, then pauses as she hears Moonlight's cry. The Fae feels the strength of the spell Moonlight casts and her heart sings for joy. She links her power with Moonlight's and sends faster than thought an entangling spell to ensnare Rheven with vines of poison. Break them, the poison leeches into the bloodstream casuing an agonizing death. His best option is to remain still and cease his assault or a nasty accident might happen.

Rheven screams in rage as the vines surround him, leaving the thorns inches away from his vampiric flesh. They are little threat though, and he knows it – the mage begins another chant, this one much louder than his others. A crimson aura envelopes his body, seeming to leak from the wound in his shoulder; just as the arrows that Moonlight shoots come close, the aura manifests into flames. Fire surrounds the mage’s body entirely, though they don’t seem to bother him at all. The vines are turned into ash and the arrows as well before they can even come close to marking his body. Like other powerful spells, the vampire cannot move while under their influence, so with a snap of his fingers, he disperses the burning fires. Though he has taken little physical damage, calling upon magic has left him a bit winded. With a scowl, he raises his hands to his lips and whistles – this is indeed a call, and Siriath responds promptly, sweeping before her master. Being that Rheven is a trained dragonryder, he leaps upon the beast, letting the dragon guide him to the doors of the throne room, where he dismounts and takes the battle inside. What’s left of the ogres – about fifty-five or so – follow after, taking the battle there.

Tyre stands alone as he watches all this unfold.A million thoughts running threw his head as he tries to makeout this situation. The ogres are so close to victory,and hewas ordered to see this threw.But it seems fate has thrown him a curveball, as Khamahl, his sworn-brother,and his family whom Tyre has come to respect, has taken up the fight for the pixie kingdom. What to do, what to do. He thinks to himself. For now he just stands there, unsure of his next move.---- Jesserios snarls as his attack has missed it's targets, but acting with quick reflexes, he dodges the spell cast by the paladin. Landing near Tyre he says.

"Master, those are your friends, My friends." he pauses. "What should we do?"

Rheven is not to be seen yet – first, a band of ogres fan out into the throne room, having run through whatever opposition was left. In reality, the battle outside was over – this room was the last bastion of hope for whoever sought to defend the pixie kingdom. In their wake comes Rheven, Siriath alongside. A sneer forms on his features, and he points out over those gathered. “What’s left on the monarchy may yet escape...but it is hopeless for the rest of you. Will you yield..or fight this pointless battle to the last breath?”

Thea in her massive transformation emits forth another thunderous roar, the intended arrows no match for the large dust-laden scales now encompassing her form. With massive wing-spanse lifting her above the crowd sending forth winds directed towards any attempting to take the Kingdom, Thea summons forth a huge vat of lamp fluid below any remaining ogres as the ground trans-mutates into liquid. With a mighty roar followed by fiery breath she sets it ablaze in hopes of trapping any who had escaped Gwenilyn's fiery attack.

Makenaka looks around then calls upon the heavens to restore balance to the sky as the clouds have been parted by the up roar of screams and distorted grunts. "maybe now the scars of this land will be healed?"

Ontor looks around the large, seeing that all or most of the Ogres have already been dealt with, pulls out his bow and a few arrows from his quiver. He places the arrows ont he tight string of the bow and pulls the string back slowly. As he pulls back, the bow and arrows begin to glow. He aims the bow into the air and lets the arrows fly. As they fall closer to Rheven, each arrow spits out another arrow to each side, making nine arrows falling toward Rheven.

Kharet marches through the chaos with fifteen of his brethren, already dismounted some distance from the foray. Five of those under his command had been left to ensure no rustlers make off with the platoon's mounts, another five trailing behind to ensure none of the apparently dead enemies were simply feigning it in some elaborate trap. Dressed in rather rudimentary armour, ranging from steel splintmail to fullplate and equipped with axe or halberd and large shields, they are, to a man, a relatively lowly fighting force when evaluated from a visual standpoint. But each is capable enough to hold his own, though they specialise in unit warfare. They spread to cover the main entrance in a metallic arc, Kharet himself heading the short, both in height and length, column of soldiers, none of them yet devoting to any assault as he evaluates the situation.

Makenaka notices a ogre trying to sneak out the back side of the throne room, then Makenaka calls for the wrath of the gods to be called down upon him for trying to hurt his dear family.

Keter eyes the leader of the scorched hoards, making his way to block Rheven from reaching the King and Queen. Keter takes his place between the aggressor and the royals. Readying the E'et Nilah blade in his hands he takes a defensive stance before their leader. "Abandon your persuit now, your hoards are no match for those defending their homeland"

Makenaka stands next to Keter and says we shall do this as a family

Rheven grunts as the few ogres that managed their way inside are swept up or otherwise dealt with - not about to be dealt the same fate, Rheven leaps atop Siriath, having her guide him to equal level with Thea and Keter, both of them seeming to have the same transformation Gwen does. Only now does he notice the incoming arrows, though they are of little consequence; lifting a hand out, he speaks a simple incantation, giving way to a burst of fire that swallows most of the incoming arrows whole. A stray one whooshes by his head, and another lands against Siriath's belly, though it merely bounces off of her rough scales. From his perch atop the dragon, he speaks to those remaining.

"Enjoy this throne room, I suggest - for it is all that remains of the pixie land that is unoccupied or otherwise ravaged. More ogres and drow await outside these doors, and it is futile for you lot to take them on alone. In have won the battle for the throne room. But you have lost the war for the kingdom..." As the last word falls from his lips, the vampiric mage drops to the back of the dragon again, gesturing out of the unfinished castle. Siriath responds promptly, a strong flap of her wings guiding him toward a rather large hole in the throne room wall. This allows him to escape, flying away from the now concluded battle.