Glomdoring didn't have to wait long for the first wave to happen. It took only moments, interrupting the two Night covens as they gathered their magics, before blades came crashing and nature became a battle field of thorn and athame. Xenthos's brow was damp with sweat, his armor and expertise in combat giving him a prowess that seemed almost impossible. He glared at a centaur, having already deflected a blow that would have otherwise killed him, and mentally contacted his troops as they, too, faught with everything they had. Damned bastards can put up a fight. I'll give them that, he thought in agitation. The first sweep had caught his troops off guard, never thinking that Serenwilde forces would be daring to enter Ethereal Glomdoring. Or stupid enough. Synl stood behind him, the Terror coven and he already calling forth shadows from a black cauldron that stood in the center of their circle. The first wave of Night magics were released, enveloping a few Moondancers who had proved foolish enough to follow in the footsteps of their marauding troops. Screams of pain weren't allowed to leave the moondancer's mouths, as shadow upon shadow clung to them and filled their gaping mouths before they could scream.

Xenthos dodged another blow from the centaur, rolling to the side. Stupid horse. Should've watched your legs! Xenthos thought as he swept his blade around in a circle above his head, before bringing himself up from where he knelt on the ground and cutting the centaur's legs off with the sounds of bone's crunching passing in the wake of his sword. The centaur cried out in surprise, before a pack of barghests decended upon it and ripped the creature's throat with their sharp teeth. A war-maddened grin grew on Xenthos' lips, before he turned to greet the next wave of Serenwilders already tredging through the entrance to Faethorn.

--==--

Shayle watched from afar the happenings of the battle, casting her senses throughout the forest to track the wounds of Glomdoring soldiers. She moved with the expertise of a graceful dancer, quickly tending to wounds that she could sense. The defensive Night coven stood encircling her, conjuring up protections to aid the defending troops. Fae stood ready, hiding behind tree or standing out in the open, with war burning at their hearts. The air was electrifying, as if it had been set ablaze in light and darkness that faught to conquer the other. She couldn't help but grin herself, as she watched the Glomdoring forces fight valiently and bravely beneath each wave that washed over them.

"Call forth the Brumetower!" she barked, raising a hand into a fist and adding her own power to the ritual. Thick, black shadows poured forth from a cauldron nearby, each one encircling about the Shadowdancers in tendrils of hissing voices. A final word was spoken by Shamarah, as he ended the ritual with a flourish of up-thrown arms. Called forth, the shadows shot into the canopy of the trees overhead before they elongated and sank into the ground. Before a moment could pass, the shadows had hardened and created a sort of incorporeal tower made entirely of hissing shadows that snapped at the air hungrily. You want war? Then so shall you have it, Shayle said, glaring into the battle field ahead. Something stirred to her right, and out from the undergrowth, a young faeling man emerged with a blade that was whirling towards her throat. He stopped dead in mid-swing, his eyes large and mouth agape with a warcry caught in his throat. He collapsed onto the ground, an athame glistening in his back. Synl dropped from a nearby tree and winked at Shayle, before dashing off towards Xenthos. She shook her head, looking again to the dead faeling that had come too close for her comfort, before she turned her attention back to the coven nearby.

"Choke! Now!" she commanded, and they began to move slowly about the cauldron. Faster and faster, they moved, until they were all in a complete dash. Shadows rose again from the cauldron, rising up from its mouth like a nightmare given life, and quickly shot off towards the battle ahead. Shayle moved to the side and listened to the cries of horror that filled the night. It was a melody, a twisting cacophony of voices screaming either in horror or in cries of war. Overhead, murder upon murder of crows conquered the skies, enormous crows dotting the dark night with the cries of the Blacktalon raising in racourous chanting. She thought she spotted Pentu overhead, her hands holding a cudgel that was spraying thorns down below at a group of frost hags and centaurs just ahead. You should've stayed on your side of Faethorn, you pathetic fools, Shayle thought to herself as she furled up her hands into her robes.

--==--

A figure stood in a tree close by to Shayle, its stark white eyes glistening with madness. Contempt? Is that contempt I see in your eyes? Rage burned at it, setting its limbs loose from the branch it held on and sending its body flying in a blur of speed towards her. It landed in a flare of black robes, unsheathing a dagger and putting it beneath Shayle's chin. She jumped, though upon feeling the cold steel pressing into her and cutting into her skin, she held deathly still.

"Oh, you pretty pretty Shayle," the figure whispered as he bent his mouth towards her ear. He flung Shayle around, facing the Night Coven who were gawking at their Queen and at the figure who now held her life by a simple dagger. "If you move or try any of your magic on me, I swear, I'll slit her damned throat!" He pulled the dagger deeper into her skin, letting a few droplets of blood drip down it and onto her chest. They stopped moving towards him, their fae glaring at him with hatred burning in their eyes.

"How does it feel, Shayle?" the figure whispered again into her ear. "How does it feel to know that you're about to die? Or don't you feel anything at all, you heartless bi***!" the voice was masculine but riddled with gurgling hisses that made Shayle. "You have no idea how long I've waited; no idea how long I've watched and planned for this moment! Your pretty pale skin beneath my dagger. I used to dream about it, dream about licking my tongue over your ear, just so you scream as my dagger tears away the last few seconds of your life. Oh, and one more thing before I kill you! That war out there. See all those people dying? Look over there. One of your own young shadowdancers are dead. Want to know why they're fighting? Because I tricked them into thinking Glomdoring was planning the same..."

The figure wasn't able to finish what he was saying before a mass of cold flames erupted about Shayle in a single pillar of power.

--==--

Shayle could feel the dagger pressing into her neck, watching her shadowdancers with something of shock and outrage burning in her intense stare. Though, as he spoke more, she could feel something starting to turn inside of her. At the thought of this war being all just because of one person's words, something broke within her and exploded in a complete whirlwind of rage. She turned slowly around to let her cold, expressionless face, save for the burning flames that roared within her eyes, look down onto the robed figure.

"You want death, you pathetic bastard? Fine! Let me show you death!!" she screamed as she balled up her fists and released them, a turrent of black flames and shadows screeching out from her, causing those nearby to cover their ears and drop to the ground beneath the intensity of Shayle's power. She rose from the ground, hovering above the figure as the cold flames splashed onto him. A shield rose up about him, created just in time as the flames and shadows descended upon him in a hungry assault. The shield fell, and the figure rose from the ground and glared at Shayle with as much intensity as she offered him.

"Your little tricks won't work on me, bi**!" he cried as he pointed his dagger to the ground below Shayle, vines snapping up and quickly coiling about Shayle's legs and feet. She smirked, letting the cold flames burn away the encumbersome trick and returned her attention back to the robed figure before her.

"Is that the best you can do? You little fool. Let me show you why they call Mother Night merciless," she hissed, a burst of cold flames rising about her in descending spiral that spilled onto the ground. Shadows rose up as the flames fell, encompassing Shayle before she simply vanished within them. Both parted to show she was no longer there, and the figure's white eyes looked about menacingly as he sought her. A hand shot out from behind him and grabbed him by the bottom of his mouth, pulling his head back and nearly snapping it out of place. Shayle offered him a slight, cold smile before she placed a kiss upon his lips. His eyes shot open, as he felt something pouring into his mouth and down his throat, choking the air from his lungs. She continued the kiss, drawing out his life from his body as her cold flames caught his body aflame. The shadowdancers only watched, smiling or gaping in awe as they witnessed their queen's power in action. Finally, she released the husk of a body and let it slide to the ground with a thud. The only thing left of him was shell, skin draping around bone. She pulled a finger to her mouth and wiped away the blood that smeared it, turning towards the Night Coven who simply stared at her. That, simple fool, is the true meaning of merciless, she thought again to herself as the cold flames and shadows dissipitated from around her until they were completely gone.

--==--

Shrouded in nearby shadows, Viravain watched as she channeled a minute amount of her divine power into Shayle. As the battle came to an end, she placed a hand on a barghest's head that had been sitting beside her, its eerie black eyes giving off a faint green glow. She chuckled as the fool fell to his death, shaking her head disdainly. When one insults the power of the Glomdoring Forest, dear mortal, they insult me!, she thought as she continued to observe the war as it unfolded. The husk of what was left of the robed figure was swallowed up by the hungry earth, his defeat adding to the burning rage that rang through every leaf, every branch, and every blade of grass that screamed for one thing. Vengeance.

Your two references to Sybl were actually Synl, yes?

Lusternian fanfics, hardcore.


All in all, a rather... interesting... read. I enjoy your style.

Yeah, I have a feeling Sybl = Synl in this story.

*giggle* Hopefully, seeing as the Sy*l in the story wasn't stabbing Shayle in the eye.

EDIT: Oh, and nice work.

Also since sybl never did anything even remotly that active anyway.

Very nice story, write some more!

Oops! Yes, I meant Synl, not Sybl. ^^

Fixed the mistake. I always disliked writing "action" scenes. I get lost in the detail and can sometimes get caught up in the description that I derail completely. I'm still writing the other chapters. But they're filled with action scenes, so I'm taking extra time to make sure Point A meets Point Z. My old instructor in undergrad at MSU would call the derailing "literary trainwreck".

Could I repeat my request to have my character withdrawn from the story? It doesn't add anything to keep her there instead of say, Pentu (or, hell, even Kaervas). And you did mention that you would do so.

I used your name in passing so that the reader could note that the shadowdancers and ebonguard weren't the only one's present. I said I would keep your name off of the main storyline. But if you prefer I not use your character whatsoever, please note me. It would be appreciative for my own personal store of information in case I write another chapter based story. Thanks.

And your name was removed. Pentu added, as the Blacktalon don't play a huge role in the story as of yet.