._______________.
| Chapter one: |
| |
| Friendship |
|______________ |

It could have been done with less blood.

In all honesty, it -should- have been done with less blood. However,
less blood meant less mess, and as far as Ret was concerned that
would never do. Ret loved everything about blood; its glorious
crimson color, the sharp electric taste, the way it slowly congealed
and hardened over time, the thick syrupy feeling of it against his
fur and skin. His friends would occasionally joke that he might make
a better Nihilist than a member of the 'guard, and sometimes they
weren't simply kidding around.

Ret nodded slowly, the intricately braided curls of his head bobbing
softly with the movement.

'Yes... it definitely could have been done with less blood,' he
thought to himself.

He had been taught since he was a tiny chir to respect the creatures
of the land, to use every iota of the bounty they left behind with
consideration and care. To leave waste behind after the hunt was a
sin most foul to the small igasho tribe he had grown up with, and
that had included all of the liquid. Ret wasn't one for tradition.

The tall igasho took a step back and surveyed his work appraisingly.
His kill, a beautifully crafted buck in the image of its proud maker,
was strung upside down by hemp from a long tree limb over a small
shrine. The antlers had been tied back so that the buck's neck was
bared, as though inviting the sharp grace of metal to weave a path
through his muscle and flesh - which Ret had done most obligingly.

The thick flow of scarlet had receded to a slow trickle, though not
before absolutely drenching the shrine in death. Any liquid that
drained off of the twin arrows of the shrine was stopped by a ridge
fashioned in a circle around the offering, creating a small pool at
its base. Ret had dipped from this pool in varying amounts as the
creature had drained, using it to mark the entire location as sacred
before dressing himself as well in the fluid; two wide lines under
his green eyes, a crescent shape upon his brow, and tiger stripes
across the entirety of his dark pelt. The macabre display was topped
with a gruesome spectacle, the animal's once-beating heart pierced
upon the shrine's summit.

Ret grinned impishly. 'Yes, less blood indeed... but what fun would
that have been?' The great hunter belted out a rough laugh. Securing
his obsidian dagger again at his waist, Ret prostrated himself before
the grisly scene, closed his eyes, and prayed.

"Great One, know that my work this day is for You. Grant me Your
strength in battle, Your wisdom in life, and Your speed in the hunt.
May the enemies of the Wilde fall swiftly and cower in Your
presence."

When he opened his eyes, the scene was once more as he had found it
in the first place. The buck was gone, as was the blood, and the
shrine was once more shining brilliantly in the shaft of sunlight
that filtered into the tiny grove. Ret was left only with the crimson
markings against his fur as evidence of what occurred. He smiled and
rose to his full height.

Towering high above most creatures in the basin, the word 'tall'
seems to fall short of most igasho, Ret being no exception. At least
a full head above the largest krokani, Ret had earned the nickname
'Oak', which he wore with pride. Bigger was always better, and
nothing was worth doing if it couldn't be done in the grandest way
possible. Built almost entirely of muscle and with rich blue fur
covering him in a single shade from toe to head granted him the
visage of a looming sapphire mountain (Which some of the smaller
faelings had taken to calling him as well). Jaw line hard, features
rugged, limbs long and lanky... Ret really was the stereotypical
igasho, at least in appearance.

'Hey Oak, is that you?' came a small voice from beyond the edge of
the clearing, which Ret recognized at once as belonging to his close
friend J'alre. Out of the whole of Seren, J'alre probably understood
Ret the best. They had been close ever since Ret had wandered into
the 'wilde those fifteen years ago, and were seldom far from one
another even now. J'alre had been the one to formally induct Ret into
the commune, and sometimes had been the only reason he remained after
all that time.

A crop of blond hair popped out from beneath some bushes, followed in
suit by a slender elfen body clad in flowing silvery robes.

'Aha, I've been lookin' for you, Oak!' J'alre exclaimed, a bright
smile upon his face.

J'alre, being an elf, possessed a rather effeminate appearance -
looking every bit like a seventeen year old human boy with his soft
blue eyes, rounded chin and thin lips. Few outside of the forest
would have guessed he was arriving upon his fortieth birth
celebration in the coming month.

Ret smiled and replied with a simple, 'Oh?'

'Sure have been, caught wind of something I think you'd like to hear!
Though... maybe if now isn't such a good time?'

Ret blinked for a moment before realizing what J'alre was talking
about, which induced a rather furious reddening of his skin beneath
the fur. Coughing softly, Ret moved to don his undergarments and
padding and said, 'Ah, no, was just finishing.'

'It's okay, I'll wait!' the elfen said, humming happily to himself.

Ret was not a bashful person, nor did nudity bother him. In fact, he
quite enjoyed the feeling of the ground beneath his feet and the wind
in his fur, free of cumbersome armor and restriction. If Ret could,
he would spend all of his time blissfully skyclad. Really, there was
only one person who could make Ret blush, and only one reason he ever
wore clothing or armor - J'alre. It was J'alre who wanted Ret to
always look his best, and J'alre who always worried for Ret's welfare
in battle. It was really not uncommon for others to confuse the two
as more than just friends.

Ret grunted softly as he secured the plate mail around his form,
fastening his scabbards to either side before nodding to J'alre.

'Right, there we go, how's that?'

Blue eyes sparkling, the small elfen smiled and nodded. 'I know how
you get when offering, but really, the armor looks so good on you.
And what if you were to be attacked? I don't understand why you need
to be naked.'

The igasho laughed, a low sound that resonated deep in his throat.

'Come on Jay, attacked while in the heart of the 'wilde? Even if
somebody managed to wade through the totems and past the hags and
centaurs, they'd have the forest itself to contend with long before
they made it to this shrine.'

'Well, it's happened before..." the elf mumbled softly, face
momentarily downcast. A strange few seconds passed in silence before
he resumed his sunny disposition. 'Anyway, that's what I wanted to
talk to you about. I smell something strange in the woods, acrid,
like... like taint. I don't know for sure or anything, but I figured
you should be the first to know, considering...'

Ret grimaced. The taintlings had become a common sight so far north
since the war started, and it appalled the igasho that one would be
as bold as to step foot within the forest itself. He nodded to
J'alre.

'Let's check it out.'

The elfen beamed and held out his delicate looking hand, which Ret
dwarfed by taking into his own. J'alre closed his eyes, inhaled
deeply, and suddenly was gone as though scattered by the wind itself.
Ret would have blinked in surprise had he any eyelids, or eyes for
that matter. He flowed as a single spirit with J'alre and the forest,
feeling every bird, tree, grass blade and whisper of wind that
caressed the woods around them and flying inexorably toward the
source of J'alre's discomfort.

Though it took place in but an instant, Ret had the time to feel
content. He disliked any sort of transportation that wasn't walking,
and this was included, but doing it with J'alre felt different. The
thought of having a single spirit with his closest friend, if only for a
second, held great meaning for Ret. They were deeply entwined at
heart, and small actions such as these only amplified that in the
igasho's eyes.

Before too long, however, Ret's happiness was shattered - replaced
with a broiling hatred that threatened to explode from his form in an
extraordinary rage.

=====================================================================

._______________.
| Chapter Two: |
| |
| Taint |
|_______________|

They arrived just in time to witness a hideous sight. A creature that
only vaguely resembled a dracnari raised his hands dramatically,
muttering something under its breath. Stunned momentarily from the
mental exertion of becoming a spirit, Ret could only watch in horror
as monstrous plumes of dark smoke rose up around the beast from the
very earth itself and entwined about the environment, choking the
trees in death and corruption, causing the leaves to blacken, wither,
and fall off now sickly branches, the blasted smoke annihilating
everything that Ret had begun to hold sacred. The twisted Geomancer
sneered to himself oblivious to the arrival of the huge igasho and
small elf.

'Taint it or cut it, eeheeee!' it squealed, almost prancing with joy.
'I'll not understand why we have to wait to do this; even Ardrak
knows how things should be done!'

'Filth!' Ret roared, cutting the intruder's celebration short as he
drew his gargantuan scimitars.

The beast whirled about in astonishment, granting the forestals a
firm glimpse of its ghastly persona. Unnaturally skeletal in
appearance, the creature seemed more like it was patched together
from other beings than any one source of evolution. Possessing the
hard outer scales of a dracnari, hideously decayed wings of a trill,
and covered in a thick sludge that could only have come from tainted
mugwump lineage, the thing truly looked like a demon in its own
right.

Ret howled a fearsome battlecry and leapt forward at the beast, his
blades slicing back and forth through the air in front of him in
anticipation before mercilessly cleaving into the flesh of the
shocked Geomancer. Not even J'alre had time to react as Ret viciously
hacked into his foe, his vision dulling to a horrendous blood red.

Claret drops flews through the air with reckless abandon as Ret drove
through, sundering limbs, tissue and muscle from the dying creature
in turn. When the mighty igasho finally regained himself, all that
remained before him was a hacking, gasping, gurgling torso of a
thing, choking to death on its own purple life fluid. Ret scowled
down at the monstrosity before him and spit directly into its dying
eyes, before making a final clean swipe of his blade.

'Disgusting, hideous mutant,' Ret sneered, wiping his blades clean
with a cloth. 'Not even my forsaken blades will be any good, after
this. Look, the metal's been corroded by that thing.' Ret spat out
the last word, as though any number of other expletives or nouns
would simply do no justice to the horror of what he had just slain.

'I'm sure you're just overreacting a lit...' J'alre tried to say,
being cut off by his own view of the swords. They had indeed
corroded, as though the toll of several seasons of poor care had been
taken out of them all at once. His delicate mouth closing softly,
J'alre held out a hand to rub Ret's side consolingly, but recoiled at
the touch of the sickly fluid which had splattered all over his
friend. Ret seemed lost in his own thoughts, however, and barely
acknowledged the soothing rains his friend summoned to cleanse the
location of the foulness. Bending down low, Ret scooped up the head
of the lost Geomancer and stared into its glossy eyes as though
willing it to speak to him.

'It will go among the others, then,' he said simply, tucking the
gruesome trophy in the small pack at his waist.

'This is bad news, Ret. If he made it into the Wilde, that means
others can. You heard what he said, right?'

In honesty, Ret hadn't listened to a single utterance from the
creature's mouth other than its howls of pain and misery as he cut it
down like a bothersome weed. He simply nodded. 'He said they were
waiting, Ret. This was only the first. You and I should alert the
Council!'

Grunting softly, the igasho said, 'You go ahead, Jay. I'm going to
pike this with the rest and go on patrol. These things are like
weevils, you spy one, there's bound to be more crawling about in the
filth.'

J'alre simply nodded and closed his eyes. Ret blinked and his friend
was gone, scattered like so many leaves before him. How had he missed
this intrusion? Ret had lived in the forest as nearly long as he
could recall, and he could walk its perimeter with his eyes closed.
He had grown one with the wood as the years went on, following the
Greater Spirit of White Hart and thus its creator as well. He should
have sensed the destruction. Ret swore softly and strode from the
suddenly overwhelming clearing. The stench was overpowering, still,
even after the rains. He had been a fool not to notice it sooner, and
now it would take one of Hart's chosen to undo the damage that had
been done to the forest.

'Damn it!' he swore louder, slamming his fist into a nearby tree.

'Now, now, friend, the trees are your brothers, the saplings your
kin, why would you hurt them?'

The igasho narrowed his eyes. Though he knew how the strange voice
had entered his mind, he knew not whose it was. 'I've little patience
at the moment, weaver, so do not play games with me,' Ret stated
firmly.

A soft laughter pealed through his mind, the soul behind it obviously
amused.

'"Weaver?" What makes you so certain I'm the workings of
dreamcrafters, and not simply a figment of your active and stressed
thoughts? Plenty speak to themselves; you do not wonder where the
voices come from who answer back?'

Ret scowled. 'I've dealt with your kind before, and I know what you
sound like. Somewhere, there is a body which lies motionless, and if
you keep up this nonsense with me you may find yourself returning to
it only to find it lacking a few important things. Like organs.'

Again there was laughter inside of his mind.

'Very well, my friend, very well. I can see your sense of observation
is quite astute, so let me introduce myself as best as I am able. For
simplicity, you may call me Sinth. I've come this far and at personal
peril to give you a warning, igasho of Serenwilde.'

'A warning?' Ret snorted, 'If you're here simply to threaten me,
you're wasting your mental abilities. I've seen and met challenges
much larger than a simple weaver of the thoughts.'

'No, my friend,' the voice that called itself Sinth responded, 'the
danger here is not from me at all. Perhaps you've assumed, but the
taintlings to the south that once aided your people in a common cause
rally even now to overwhelm the forest and all that is.'

'What an amazing skill you possess, weaver, telling me what fortune
has already thrust into plain sight. If that is all you have to tell,
again, you've wasted your time.'

'I have better news than that, my impatient friend. While you know
but vagarities and chances, I know certainties and truths. I can tell
you precisely when and where they shall strike first, that you may
prepare your defenses and overtake them. Assuming, of course, you
care about the place you live.'

Ret pursed his lips, his mind a blur. This news could be useful, but
it could just as well be a trap. Many in the basin had learned the
art of dreamweaving in the modern times, so this could be anyone. No,
not anyone, the voice was unfamiliar, not of his forest. Yet it was
crisp, no hissing or slurred words that would indicate the speaker to
be tainted or deformed. But aren't dream voices in the mind? Would a
hiss even be apparent in one's thoughts?

'I don't have much time left to speak with you, igasho, and I wonder
now if it was a mistake to do so as you stand there stupidly, doing
nothing,' Sinth echoed within his mind.

Ret hesitated but a second longer before responding, 'Fine, speak
your piece.'

And Sinth did.

=====================================================================

._______________.
|Chapter Three: |
| |
| Memories |
|_______________|

Ret stood still for a long time after the voice had left him,
thinking. After he had mentally alerted J'alre to what he had heard,
and even as he made his way to the clearings south of his forest home
and absentmindedly plopped the severed and now cold skull upon a
pike, the cogs of his mind continued to spin - meshing with one
another as he struggled to make sense of all he had heard. It didn't
make any sense at all, and yet the logic behind it all was crystal
clear. He had underestimated them, truly, to think they would not be
so bold. Of course they would strike the hardest first, they were
bloated and blinded by the essence of the Great Damned One Himself.
He needed to speak with Jay. Ret was all power and action, Jay was
thinking and strategy. Yes, Jay would know what to do.

The igasho walked briskly and with long, gaping strides - though with
a distracted mind. His thoughts struggled around a single concept,
and he tried to remember how everything had begun. When did these
taintlings grow so bold? What sparked this war?

In reality, Serenwilde had never trusted the Taint, Magnagora. They
had it right from the very birthing of the foulness that raped and
destroyed all it touched. They saw what it did to the noble Stone of
Truth, witnessed in horror as it consumed their sister Gloriana,
gaped silently as Ackleberry sundered itself from all existence in
blind terror under the hopes that their forest never be consumed by
that which was the very essence of The Unnatural. Serenwilde had even
watched as the chaos that was bred by the cities helped to consume
them as well, locking half of civilization in a cold and timeless
grip, perhaps never to return. 'Good,' they had thought. 'less mortar
to be torn down to make way for Nature's harsh compassion.' They
watched, fully prepared to dive into the depths of oblivion after
Ackleberry in turn, thinking themselves lost until at last the
brightest light shone through the thick, oily cloud of darkness,
awakening He which could hold the Mighty One back. They watched a
delicate merian body rise from the waters of a sacred pool, born
anew, and the destruction that followed. Three cities had been
damned, two forests lost, and a final city cursed to be nothing more
than a filthy abomination for all time.

'Nature will run its patient course,' they had thought. 'Never again
must this horrific mistake be so repeated. The cities cannot be
trusted, this foul civilization cannot be trusted. Lo, most of all,
this Taint can never be trusted. It is the very essence of Kethuru
Himself, He who would seek to consume us all. It is beyond unnatural,
it is a bane to the very land itself and it corrupts all that it
touches.'

They had held to these vows for centuries, untold lengths of time.
Bloodlines passed and grew, and eventually, they were drawn to the
city of New Celest by necessity; desire for trade, peace, mutual ends
of success. Aye, things had worked well for them all. Perhaps they
might rely upon a city now, but they did not enjoy it, and aye, they
did not fully trust them either. At least all were agreed upon a
single cause, the Taint. It could not be allowed to extend beyond its
feeble bounds. The City to the south was evidence enough of the
damnation that the Taint wrought, and whenever they looked to their
sister commune, they wept. Time passed, and simple disagreements grew
into open hostility. War began, and the righteous fury of the forest
swept down upon the city in all its glorious tenacity. Consumed with
battle rage for the harm that had befallen them once more at the
hands of Celest, they did not notice as the Tainted infiltrated their
ranks, now fighting a common foe once more.

'Was that when?' Ret mumbled softly to himself as he strode ever
closer to the Moonhart. A slow nod and soft bob of his curls was his
personal reply. Aye, that had been exactly when the lines began to
blur, hadn't it? Fury had consumed the 'wilde, blinded them, and for
a small time they had fought alongside what they knew to be the most
destructive force in the Basin of life. It hadn't mattered though,
had it? Not then.

They fought, and they fought well, and eventually peace had been
restored by force. Yet, there was a price. They no longer dealt with
this golden city that shone against the darkness. No, they were
beyond redemption. 'City filth,' they thought. All this while, they
had been slowly driving themselves closer and closer to their most
hated foe, never realizing what may become of the unholy alliance.
Magnagora had turned on them, as they intended to do all along. How
could The Tainted do otherwise? It hadn't been betrayal to them;
after all, they sought to taint the entirety of the Basin and never
failed to make such known. It was their power, their gospel, their
influence. It was bred within their very cores to spread that which
they viewed as strength, to enlighten others to their change. They
did what all knew they would, and what some simply refused to
believe. The opportunity arose, and was swiftly taken.

It started with Estelbar. Inspired by widespread paranoia at the
spread of some disease, the village had revolted utterly. Magnagora
seized the chance and swayed Estelbar before the forest could even
blink. Tainted. Furrikin were enslaved and sent off to work amongst
the filthy orcs. Then the fae went missing. It began with a pixie or
sprite, nobody assumed much. 'They're whimsical things. They will
simply return, perhaps confused from their journey, but perfectly
healthy,' many had thought. The unthinkable happened. Fae would no
longer answer the call of wiccans. By the time any had thought to
consult the avatars of Moon it was too late, and the hoarse laughter
of the Nihilists echoed through the Faethorn wood as they carted off
the lesser beings to their bloated and hungering Demon Lord.

The forest had realized the error all too late, however. The rifts
that they had formed in false trust began belching forth noxious gas,
crippling the land around them in Taint. Some filthy tendrils of
waste reaching even to the heart of Serenwilde itself, encroaching
upon the very roots of the Moonhart Mother Tree. Of course these
rifts were closed at once, but the damage was done... tainted
forestry and mutated squirrels, for which the only cure was fire and
a swift, painless death. 'How could they do this to us?' many asked
themselves, but within already knew the answer so well. When had it
ever been understood that they wouldn't?

Ret had been among the few who had protested constantly in the
beginning. He had his reasons. The Tainted were not to be trusted, he
could see that. Ever since his parents were slaughtered by darkened
blades, he had known there was something inherently evil and corrupt
with all of them. Nothing but an animal could worship death and
destruction as they did. Nothing but hideous abominations could
worship those fallen disgraces they called Demon Lords. His sole
voice of reason fell upon deaf ears as the sonance of so many
outweighed him. After all, what could be more important than peace,
and bringing a lasting harm to those who had wronged them?

Ret sighed with despair and let his shoulders slump as he reached the
Moonhart at last, eliciting a few curious stares from the furrikin,
elves, faelings and others who had gathered there. 'What troubles
you, friend?' asked one of the tae'dae. Ret recognized the voice as
belonging to Talg, another one of Hart's followers.

'Nothing, nothing, simply poor memories,' Ret answered, hastily
regaining his composure and giving a reassuring smile.

'Bad memories are like bad alcohol, Ret; best left to the drunks!'

'Tae'dae logic at its finest,' Ret said with a smile while his friend
simply nodded in a sagely manner.

There was no point in dwelling on the past, though; Talg was
certainly right in that. Ret scanned the small crowd that milled
about and spotted a familiar crop of light blond hair. Sparkling blue
eyes met his from across the way.

'Oak! You took forever, I was starting to worry about you,' came
J'alre with a relieved expression. Before the igasho could even
react, J'alre dove at his waist and wrapped his arms about him in a
tight hug.

'I know you can fight, and you're strong, but... with them coming
into the forest, and after I spoke to the Seneschal, I got to
thinking, "What if they attacked him? Surrounded him and dragged him
off somewhere," and then you took so long to come back...' J'alre
practically gasped out.

The igasho would have simply laughed it off like usual until the
small elfen buried his face into Ret's abdomen and began to sob.
Certainly he hadn't been gone -that- long? They were close friends
for almost as long as Ret could recall, and Jay certainly knew better
than to think Ret would have been taken so easily, yet still here he
was, crying quietly into the igasho's blue fur. It was a little
foolish, really, but for some reason it made Ret unbearably sad to
see his friend like this, so he wrapped his massive arms around the
small elf and lifted him up into the air. It was a comical sight, the
smaller elfen suspended as such with his legs dangling.

Holding him gently against his chest, Ret murmured, 'Come here Jay,
let's talk a bit.'

=====================================================================

._______________.
|Chapter Four: |
| |
| Battle |
|_______________|

Ret gazed across the small clearing at his friend, who seemed to have
now finally regained his composure. The elfen were a curious race, to
be certain. Never in Ret's life had he known another sort to be so
fierce and unforgiving, yet so emotional and compassionate all in the
same breath. Elfenehoala must have been an enigmatic one, to say the
least.

His voice breaking the fallen silence, J'alre said, 'I'm sorry, I
should have known better. I just get so worried about you sometimes,
Oak, and I don't know what I'd do if...'

The igasho interrupted with a low chuckle, his chest rising and
falling with the action. 'If what? I died? Come, Jay, death is a part
of nature as much as life. Should I have died defending this forest
from those abominations then so be it, I would gladly give that.'

'I know you would, it's just... there are people who would miss you,
Oak. I would miss you.'

Silence settled on them both once more, J'alre gazing down at the
grass before him and Ret staring up into the sky. It was awkward. Ret
didn't enjoy awkward, and he didn't enjoy long, slow talks. J'alre
was probably the only one who could keep his attention for a span
longer than fifteen minutes, and sometimes Ret wondered why that was
so. Still, Ret felt the need to change the subject.

'Did you talk to the Council?'

J'alre gave a vaguely mumbled reply, and Ret didn't think he was even
listening to him. 'Jay, did you speak to the Council?'

The elfen popped his head up and blinked his eyes a few times.
'Right, right, yes I did. I was supposed to talk to you about that.
They've decided that we can't take any chances, and want to prepare a
defense. An ambush, I think, I'm not sure. They put that tae'dae
guildmate of yours in charge.'

Talg again. Ret wondered briefly upon the merits of putting a large,
slow creature of questionable intelligence in charge of such a thing,
before realizing that some thought he fit those exact merits. He gave
a slow smile and said, 'Anything else?'

'Nothing from them, no. I have a question, though. How did you find
this out?'

'I told you, Jay, I had an informant,' came the gruff reply.

'But are you sure you can trust them? I mean, I stuck my neck out a
bit for you, Oak. I trust you, but I...'

His last words were cut off by the igasho's cold stare, and J'alre
seemed to sink into himself a bit.

'It doesn't hurt to prepare a defense, Jay.'

The igasho gave a long stretch before rising, the clank of his armor
ringing harshly in his ears, 'I should speak with Talg, then, if I'm
to be a part of this. Will you be all right?'

J'alre gave a small, unconvincing nod, and Ret began to walk off into
the bushes. He had almost vanished into the foliage before the
elfen's soft voice made him halt once more.

'Oak, wait, I need to talk to you about something else.'

'Jay, can't it wait a bit?'

'No, it can't.' These last words shocked Ret a bit, because it was
unlike Jay to force things. He gave a small turn to face the elfen
and gave a simple, 'What?'

'I had a vision, Oak. Something horrible. It happened just a little
bit after I left you this morning.'

Ret arched a brow slightly. 'Vision? Since when did you have
visions?'

J'alre gave a dismissive wave of his hand and said, 'Mother Moon
sends Her messages through those who are best able to deliver them,
Oak. It was vivid. Something bad is coming, soon. I saw our forest
burning, and laughter... the laughter was terrifying. There was some
huge beast, as tall as you are, laughing and laughing as he destroyed
our home. It's just... this might be the last time I see you, Ret.'

The igasho gave a quick snort, which J'alre immediately cut off by
saying, 'Don't you dare laugh. You didn't see what I saw, Ret. I
dropped to my knees and cried, cried harder than I ever have before.
It was a terrifying, gut wrenching thing that was so utterly foul I
felt dirtied just by thinking of it.'

'Jay, fine, I understand how serious you're taking this, but it's not
something you can convince me not to do. I hate them, I hate all of
them. If I need to die, then I'll die, but I'll die drenched in their
putrid blood. If you've something to say, say it.'

'Oak, I-I...' J'alre stammered out, tears once more forming in the
wells of his eyes. 'I love you, Ret, I don't want you to go.'

Ret stood utterly still for a moment, a strange rush of feeling
coursing through his body all at once. He was surprised, but somehow
not. He was happy, but afraid. Above all, he was confused. He had
known J'alre for years upon years, but they had always been friends
and nothing more. If J'alre felt this way, why hadn't he said
anything sooner? Maybe he was afraid of what would happen. Ret's
heart fluttered rapidly in his chest, thrumming within him like a
tiny bird that screeched for glorious freedom.

'Jay...' came his forced reply, still uncertain how to respond at
all.

'It doesn't matter, I just wanted you to know,' said J'alre, 'Go plan
with Talg.' He gave a half-hearted nod and closed his eyes, his brow
furrowed as he searched for another soul nearby to travel to.

'Jay, wait, no.' Ret swiftly reached out and gripped the elfen's hand
tightly in his own, accidentally jerking him towards himself in the
process. J'alre cried out briefly in surprise as his lithe form was
yanked about, bringing him crashing into Ret, who remained as still
as the tree he gained his namesake from. Their eyes met, and for a
time there was nothing but silence, even the woods around them
seeming to fall still. Ret leaned down, and as Father Sun faded
beyond the horizon in His timeless journey, they kissed.

`'"~"'` `'"~"'` `'"~"'` `'"~"'`

'It is time,' said Talg.

Ret opened his eyes sleepily, confused for a moment. 'Time? For
what?' Ret blinked several times and the memory rushed back to him.

Of course, they had to prepare the defense. He started to get up
before the bit of weight against his chest made him halt. J'alre lay
there sleeping, slender fingers curling into the igasho's thick fur.
A small sort of whimper escaped the elfen's mouth and he cringed
against Ret's skin.

Talg hesitated for a moment, and then said, 'I'll leave you two to
get dressed. We gather at the ethereal archway.'

As the burly tae'dae disappeared into the foliage, Ret had time to
smile to himself before J'alre rose from his slumber. 'Ret?' he
murmured, 'Is it time already?' Ret nodded in reply, and waited for
J'alre to rise. After a few moments of neither speaking nor moving,
the igasho shook J'alre gently, who had drifted back into a soft
slumber.

'Jay, come, we need to prepare.'

The elfen gave a slow sigh and lifted himself with arms shaky from
sleep. He gave a great yawn and stood at last, stretching. Ret stood
in turn, and popped his neck languidly. There was an awkward shuffle
about the area as they both gathered their things and redressed
themselves; Ret in his underpadding and brilliant armour, J'alre in
his shimmering robes. Ret finished first, and glanced to J'alre, who
seemed to be going through things unusually slowly.

'We need to hurry if we are to ambush them,' Ret said.

'Aye, I know,' came the hesitant reply from J'alre. He gave a great
sigh and was prepared at last. Ret gripped J'alre's hand in his own,
and they were off once more, flowing across the woodscape as a
single, beautiful spirit. When they had at last reached the Moonhart
there was a nervous crowd milling about in the crisp midnight air. It
was unusual to find the place so full of tension, and it bothered
Ret. A few smiled shaky smiles in their direction, and glanced
nervously to the tree. It was then that it dawned on Ret that these
few must have been the last line of defense gathered, if he and his
allies failed. It wasn't a pleasant thought.

Ret rose to his fullest height and pushed his chest out slightly to
create a strong, stern image. He gave those gathered a single, firm
nod and placed his hands upon the sacred tree. He uttered a small
prayer, not just to Brother Hart and His creator, but to Mother Moon
as well.

'My guide, my Lord, and my Caretaker; watch over us, in this our time
of need. May we e'er move swifter than our foes, and may our blades
strike e'er true to the heart of the foulness which encroaches upon
our peace. May Your light shine through the smoke, Mother, and Father
may Your strength and cunning find home within us all. In the name of
the Spirits and the Wilde, in the name of all life and nature, let
this battle end quickly.'

A thought nicked into his mind, about swords, perhaps something he
had forgotten, but he pushed it to the side. A deep breath and he was
off, surging to a higher plane of being, the very home of the fae. Or
at least, what had become of it. The ethereal plane was in a sad
state now, the merry voices of children and laughter now gone from
its bounds. The trees and grasses still grew as they always had, but
the fae were mostly missing or hidden away in secret areas for their
protection. Of course the fae disliked the treatment, but it was for
their safety, and oftentimes the fae simply didn't know what was best
for them.

Ret flared his nostrils and sought out his allies, hidden about in
the trees above. A small nod to the centaurs gathered, and he leapt
into the branches above his head, before reaching down and seizing
J'alre as well. They crouched, silent and waiting, while their mental
aethers were alight with steady conversation.

'I want Jixn and Roltz watching the northeast, and you other two the
west. We know where they're coming from, but there's no sense in not
being cautious. The rest of you, eyes on the front, watch that
archway.'

It was Talg. He was surprising when placed in battle conditions, and
seemed to grow thrice as intelligent, which Ret admired. For one who
seemed so dull, let alone a tae'dae, Talg deserved his rank.

As everyone gathered their orders and assumed their positions, the
aethers eventually grew silent in anticipation. Then came the wait;
the first hour went by swiftly, the hunters crouched expertly in the
trees and bushes as they awaited their doomed prey to reveal itself.
The second hour went by much slower, as muscles began to tense and
cramp. Nobody said a word aloud, but the discomfort in the air was
stifling. The third hour had almost passed in its entirety as well,
with Ret gravely concerned that the information he had gained was
indeed a crop of lies, before a sharp crackling could be heard in the
air. A large rift slowly opened up at the archway, a foul odor
emerging from it at once, almost bringing Ret to gag audibly. A
deformed head poked through, gazing about suspiciously.

'Hold your ground, this is just a scout. We attack when the main
force arrives,' came Talg's mental command.

'Spirits beyond,' Ret thought, 'The stench is horrendous. There's
only one of the damned things, how can they possibly smell this bad?'

The taintling before them crept silently about the area, unwittingly
walking right in front of more than a single immobile and hidden
sentries, before scurrying back to the rift and making a beckoning
motion. Soon, about a half dozen entered, and the rift closed behind
them. Ret recognized the earthy robes of another Geomancer, no doubt
sent to spread their disease, along with crimson robes and the
hideous demons that denoted the Nihilists.

'Only six? That's hardly an offensive... where are their warriors?'

Ret thought to himself. Something wasn't right, the entire scenario
seemed wrong. The taintlings were nervous, shaky, and jumped at the
natural sounds the forest made around them. Almost as if they
expected to be attacked...

Ret's eyes widened in shock and he turned noiselessly around to gaze
behind him, where Jixn and Roltz were supposed to be. By the time he
sounded an alarm to his allies it was too late, and he watched them
cut down by what could only be called a swarm of weapon-wielding
orclach clad in wicked black armour. There were so many, how had they
arrived without notice?! Then it hit; the stench. There wasn't just
one, there were hundred of them gathered around now. They'd found
some other way into the Etherwilde, some way that the forest's own
hadn't realized existed, and had been flowing in by the legions all
this while. The rift, the information, the tiny party, it was all a
bait... and Ret walked his brothers and sisters right into it,
oblivious as a toad.

'It's a trap!' Ret roared to his friends upon the aether, and
immediately all about him there was chaos. Scores of taintlings
surged in from the surrounding foliage, magical energies and swords
flying through the air and singing fur and skin, melting armor and
bringing entire bodies to nothing but ash. It was a hideous, bloody
sight, demons of all shapes and sizes ripping into his brethren,
hexes flying back and forth in great flashes of light and sound. The
night sky was lit up as though it were noon, and several fires had
caught to the branches of the trees. The igasho glanced to his side
and saw his companion was missing.

'Dammit, Jay, now is not the time for a disappearing act,' Ret
growled before flinging himself down into the fray.
The enormous igasho drew his blades and slammed into the back of a
nearby orclach, ripping viciously into his neck and spine and killing
him instantly. At once the beasts swarmed around him, and Ret was
forced to the defensive, parrying and guarding, evading blow by blow
while attempting to feebly strike back as he could. There came a
torrential blast of silver light from the west, and Ret had to
quickly tumble beneath it to escape being broiled alive by the holy
light of Mother Moon that swept through those gathered around him
like a wildfire. Ret had no time to thank his saviour, however, as
the Moondancer was almost immediately cut down from behind by a
scowling creature the likes of which Ret had never seen.

This was his chance, however, and he took it - swiftly stancing
himself to the offensive and barreling into the crowd around him. His
rage grew within him and he gave a lustful battle howl before
bringing his blades slicing through everything in his path. There was
a great flash behind him followed by howls of horribly agony and
something that Ret viewed to be an entire arm flew by his head. Swing
after swing rained death down upon his foes, as limbs were removed
and great gashes in the flesh and scales were opened up before his
might. More flashes of light behind him, brilliant white, more
screaming. The battlefield fell into a senseless blur as Ret brought
his arms to and fro all about his person, dodging, parrying more,
taking a hit and continuing onward as he executed a swift and
graceful dance of mortality.

Suddenly there was a great crack, and one of Ret's blades shattered
against the armor of a particularly menacing looking lucidian, whose
eyes seemed to glow a necrotic greed through his helm. The beast
smiled a wicked smile and made to smite Ret down, plunging his sword
up and towards the igasho's gut through a small gap in his armor. Ret
was fast, and nimbly gave a turn to the side as he slammed the now
useless weapon jagged-end first into the lucidian's face. There was a
soft crunching noise and the creature collapsed to the floor in a
bloody heap. Ret was drenched, both in the viscous and sometimes
mildly acidic blood of his foes, as well as those of his allies and
even himself. He had no time to relish the sensation, and quickly
surveyed his other weapon.

'Damn it all straight to those forsaken pits of Nil!' Ret screamed
inside of his mind. His swords, he had forgotten to replace them
earlier, and the corrosion from before and now had finally taken its
toll. The weapon would be lucky to survive another strike against
anything, let alone more metal. Hurling the weapon through the air
and observing the satisfying 'plunk!' it made into a nearby mage's
head, Ret continued onward, using his fists and claws. Igasho have
terrible strength, and Ret made great use of this in his mindless
frenzy. Legs were removed and limbs were altogether crushed amidst
howls of pain and agony. Ret felt briefly invigorated as the healing
presence of a wiccan close by made itself known to him, but that was
soon abruptly cut off, Ret assumed for the worst of reasons. For what
seemed like ages, Ret fought onward, pummeling foe after foe until
there came an eerie screech that permeated the air. The taintlings
made have had surprise and numbers upon their side, but they had been
fighting the Seren in their own forest, and the Druids of Hart made
that very clear as the forest all around erupted into life and
battle.

This had been enough for the foul brigade, and retreat was thus
called. Ret roared in victory as the tainted demons around him who
were still able to walk began to flee, and he struck down a few more
in his elation. Then they did something strange, groups of them
gathering together and touching small cubes, before being wrapped
entirely in a strange sheet and disappearing altogether from sight.
His limbs heavy and his wounds beginning to ache, Ret inhaled deeply
and struggled to stand. They were running... and now was not the time
to fall.

Ret's thoughts were interrupted by an exploding pain down the length
of his back, followed by the sensation of warm fluid dripping along
his leg and through his fur. Turning about, Ret was met with another
swipe, and gaped with horror as a gargantuan axe lay entombed within
his chest. His lungs gasping desperately for air and his precious
life flooding from him in waves, Ret had only enough time to view the
face of an undead taurian before all around him went black.

=====================================================================

._______________.
|Chapter Five: |
| |
| Rebirth |
|_______________|

Ret opened his eyes to a foggy haze and a distinctly unpleasant
smell. His vision was blurry and his mind was swimming to remember
where he was and why he was there. What had happened? There had been
a fight... no, a battle, a large one. He was doing magnificently,
drenched in glorious blood and defending his home, a forest, but
something had happened. Suddenly, his mind throbbed as he recalled
with horror the image of a massive axe buried in his chest. His left
hand feebly reached to where the wound should have been, but instead
he felt nothing. Was it a dream? Back down, face staring up into some
intense light, Ret rolled to his side on what was apparently a cold
stone floor.

'You see tchat? I tchold you itch could be done. I said, didn'tch I?'

Ret could only imagine what twisted creature would have formed these
words, but he found them comforting all the same. At least he wasn't
dead.

'Yes, yes, Garael, you did.' The second voice was deeper, yet somehow
lazy, as though the person was bored with whatever they were
discussing.

'Itch wasn'tch hard, no, notch atch all. Easy, even. Tchricky with
his tchoughtchs, but the Tchaint prevails,' Garael said with noted
pride in his voice.

Tchaint? Taint. What was the Taint, again? Why did that word seem so
familiar to Ret?

'See? Tche one you wantched, yes? Tche igasho? Living, justch like I
said I could do.'

'He's obviously alive, Garael, but how do you know his thoughts are
as they should be?'

Ret gave a small moan as he attempted to ask these people what was
going on and why they were talking like he had died, but all this
seemed to do was garner a chuckle from the deeper voiced one.

'Our guest is awake, Garael, and it's impolite to speak about him
now.' Ret felt a presence close to his face, and the grip of
somebody's hand around his chin that pushed his head from side to
side like he were being examined.

'Now, Ret, it's fate that's brought you to us this day, excellent
chance indeed. I daresay you would have died without our help.'

Ret struggled to murmur a faint thanks to his unknown benefactors,
but only succeeded in another low moan.

'Now now, dear Ret, it's nothing to strain yourself over. There is a
lot to be said, and for now, you would do well to rest.'

The voice seemed so familiar to Ret, and he did as instructed. Before
his senses faded back into the blackness once more, Ret heard a final
sentence.

'Whatch shall we do now, my lord?'

`"'~'"` `"'~'"`

When Ret woke next, he felt amazing, He jumped up with a start, and
gazed about the room he was in with eyes that hungered to take in all
they could see. He stood up tall, and stretched his limbs eagerly.
With a quick look, he surveyed his surroundings, and saw that he was
located in something of a stone holding cell. The only light
available came through a hole in the ceiling, and so Ret assumed it
was daytime. The air about was hazy and thick, however, and Ret felt
tiny globs materializing amidst his fur. Engraved into the floor
beneath him was an unusually large and intricately patterned
pentagram, which glowed with a soft red light. For reasons Ret
couldn't quite understand, this light soothed him and made him happy.
He felt stronger when he was near it, so he casually assumed a
position in the center of the design. Pursing his lips, the igasho
struggled to remember why he was there. In fact, Ret even struggled
to remember who he was. He knew his name was Ret, he kept calling
himself that, but what else? Was this place his home? A prison? Was
he lost? Had he been sick?

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft click in the southern wall of
the room, which slid open to reveal a looming figure clad in earthly
toned robes. The figure paused for a minute at the sight of Ret, who
only offered a small smile in response. Ret didn't know where he was
or what was going on, so it couldn't hurt to be genial after all.
This gesture seemed to relax the figure, who took a few steps into
the room.

'Ret! How pleasing to see you awake at last.' The voice was deep, but
sounded bored, and was one Ret remembered.

'Aye, seems that I am. If you don't mind me asking, where am I?'
The figure chuckled a little, and then laughed outright. Though Ret
was amused by this, he didn't understand why this small question
would incite such humour from his assumed host.

'You're in the undeath chamber, Ret. We had almost lost you
completely, before Garael worked a bit of his magic.'

'Undeath?' Ret thought to himself. He glanced down at his person and
saw that this was true. He wasn't dead like he had dreamed, but with
the decay and twisted shape his body was in, there was no way he
could be fully alive, either. For some reason, though, this thought
brought him joy.

'This is important, Ret, I need to ask you something. What can you
remember about yourself?'

Ret furrowed his brow deeply, and attempted to think. Every time, the
only thing he could recall was a green forest, and a small elf with
sparkling blue eyes and a crop of blonde hair. He explained this to
his host, who responded with a frown.

'What about us, Ret? Do you remember your work with the taint? The
glorious Engine of Transformation?'

These terms all seemed so very familiar. It was as though he were
locked away from himself, knowing only that he was once well versed
in these words, yet unable to discern why. Again, he explained this
to his host, who gave a great sigh.

'It is as I feared, you've forgotten everything. Ret, you are a
mighty general here, an agent of the Taint. You are a member of the
fearsome Ur'guard, and were leading our troops into an assault
against the barbarian horde to the north. Something happened,
however, and you were felled in battle. It was our great fortune to
have recovered your body at all, but we so hoped to have your
memories also.'

Ret furrowed his brow, trying to remember. That would explain the
forest he kept getting glances of in his mind... he shook his head,
it hurt so very much attempting to think right now.

'And who are you in all of this?' Ret inquired of his hooded host.

'I am the Archmage of the Geomancers, Ret, and your great ally. My
name is Agosinthe, though you'd taken to simply calling me "Sinth."'

Sinth. Ret liked that, it seemed like a name he could trust. He
played with it a bit in his brain, 'Sinth'. Yes, so very familiar, he
had taken advice from this name before.

Ret smiled a slow smile and said, 'Aye... I remember that name. Very
well then, Sinth, it seems I have forgotten much. Teach me.'

Sinth lowered his hood, his purple and scaled face contorting into a
truly ghastly smile. His eyes were a sickly yellow, and a pale fluid
leaked from their outer edges. As far as Ret could see, Sinth was
completely hairless.

'I'm so glad you asked.'

`"'~'"` `"'~'"`

'Harder, damn it, harder!'

The hard clang of steel against steel rang through the courtyard air
amidst the sounds of shuffling bodies and heavy breathing. The sword
came swiftly through the air another time, and another time Ret
deflected it with a turn of his wrist. He followed through by
slamming the hilt of his other sword against the youth's helm, which
sent him reeling back for a few seconds.

'You useless, pathetic worm! You'll never make a strike if you don't
intend to kill!'

'I'm sorry Sir, I'll try harder.'

'You screw this up one more time, grunt, and you won't have the
chance to try harder. Come at me, now!'

Ret had grown tired of this particular trooper, who was lagging so
far behind the other recruits. They had learned quickly after a few
bashes to the head that the igasho wasn't playing games with them,
but this one didn't seem to get the point.

Another feeble strike. This time Ret didn't have to even put forth
the effort of deflection, and merely stepped to the side and allowed
the grunt to stumble forward. Ret raised his blade, eyed the small
gap between the helm and plate, and brought his sword down right
between them. There was a small gasp from the recruit, a gurgle as
the blade struggled through the bone of his spine, then nothing as
his body hit the ground with a 'thump'. As the severed head rolled
softly to the side, Ret scooped it up and held it high above him.

'This is the price for failure!' he roared to those present, each of
whom immediately halted their practice to listen. 'Weakness is not
tolerated here, maggots. This is Magnagora, we are the Engine. If you
cannot assist us, then you have no purpose. If you have no purpose,
then you will die. Understood?!'

'Aye, Sir!' came the gathered reply.

'Let the stench of this corpse serve as your reminder, then. You
practice until the midnight bells toll. Get back to work!'

The armored trainees gave a communal nod and turned back to one
another, practicing with renewed fervor. Ret wondered briefly if this
was due to fear or inspiration, and decided it didn't matter. 'So
long as they serve,' he thought.

There was a soft clapping at the edge of the yard, which caused Ret
to whirl about with a scowl upon his face.
It was Sinth, an amused smile playing about his features. 'Such a
wise teacher you are, Ret, I had almost forgotten. Remove the weak;
make them an example, and the others strive that much harder.'

Ret gave a sneer before spitting upon the ground in distaste. 'That
one was useless. The time I wasted on him could have been spent
bettering any number of these others.'

Sinth gave a nod and beckoned Ret closer. 'Come, we need to talk.'
It had been several months since Ret awoke in that cold chamber
beneath the city, and Sinth had become much more than an unknown host
to him during this time. He was more of a mentor, now, and had taught
Ret everything that could be learned of the powerful Taint. Ret
turned about and gave a final yell to the trainees.

'If I catch wind of a single one of you slacking, I'll see you
headless on the ground just like that fool there, understood?'

'Aye, Sir!'

A few smooth strides saw him to Sinth, who he followed through the
dusty streets of the city. Lazy mutts and lowly beggars dotted their
path, and Ret had to resist the temptation to slay them all. Their
worthless bodies still had some small bit of use as slaves, however,
so he stayed his hand for the time being. A swift turn down an alley
coupled with a quick ascension up a dank stairwell brought him to
their destination at last.

It was a small room, but it was housing several people at the moment.
Pacing back and forth in front of the far wall was the Heresiarch
himself, Shanteg, who so rarely was seen outside of his office, while
seated at the circular table in the center of the room were Garael,
the Mystagogue, along with The Fist, whose name escaped Ret on a
consistent basis. Leaned casually against the western wall was the
massive taurian, Char, who earned the position of Ret's champion,
though his commandant was absent. The Maker of Mountains, Gulsht,
lounged at the center table with Garael, and Zelphina the Ire stood
brooding alongside of Char. Standing on his lonesome against the
eastern wall was the Warlord of the city, who's actual name was never
once uttered to Ret's recollection. Garael's face lit up upon their
entrance.

'Commander Retch, Archmage Agosintche, excellentch, we can begin.' He
made a beckoning motion for those gathered to sit at the table,
though the Warlord, Ire, Char and Ret preferred to stand. 'What is
T'relk doing that is so important he cannot attend this meeting?'
inquired Gulsht.

Before Ret could respond, Sinth interjected with his
characteristically unenthused voice. 'He is organizing the Legions as
we speak, and does send his condolences.'

'Does it matter if he attends or not?' Zelphina added. 'I'm sure Ret
and Char can inform him of what we speak just fine.' There was a
small grumbling before the Warlord broke in.

'Are you all finished? I haven't the time to waste taking care of the
griping of children. If what you have to say doesn't concern the
matter at hand, then hold it.'

The Warlord's cold gaze swept across the room which sat silent before
him. 'Good. Now then, Archmage, explain.'

Sinth gave a small nod and began. 'You are all well aware of our
current situation with the Serenwilde. We have captured their
ethereal reflection and the northern half of their forest, though the
filthy heart of their forces repel us still from their core. The
cuttings have been enormously successful, and our stockpile of wood
grows daily. The herbs and goods we've farmed from them have already
made this venture more than worthwhile for the city.'
There was a collective murmur of agreement before Sinth continued.

'However, they continue to lash out like vipers against our outposts,
and this conquest will not be complete until we have crushed them
beneath our heel. The Warlord agrees that what is required now is a
final, decisive strike against the forestals. We have theorized that
if we annihilate their source of power and strength, this tree they
hold so sacred, then they shall fall. We had intended to do just that
with our first strike, but the barbarians were clever and somehow
closed the natural rift that existed in that damnable tree. You would
recall this rather well, I imagine, Ret.'

Ret did not, though he gave a solemn nod of his head regardless.

There was a snicker from Gulsht, and if gazes could inflict harm the
one that Sinth sent his way would have incinerated the Maker of
Mountains where he sat. Gulsht shut up promptly.

'Regardless, the defenses of the horde are all but exhausted, and
their neck is fully bared. It is time for the axe to fall.'
As the meeting went on, Ret allowed his mind to wander freely. Talk
of the Serenwilde incited a painful itching in the back of his head,
so he had taken to the habit of meditating whenever it was discussed.
In addition, Ret knew enough about himself to know he was all action
and battle. J'alre was strategy and thinking. Ret paused for a
moment.

J'alre? Where had that name come from? He tried to push the thought
into focus and instead his mind seemed to be set aflame, which caused
him to wince visibly.

'Something wrong, Commander?' Char inquired, interrupting Garael's
rough speech as he discussed stratagem.

'No, nothing, just a strange thought. Carry on.'

Ret rubbed his temples lightly, while Garael and Sinth exchanged
peculiar glances. After an hour, the meeting was adjourned, and the
deadline for the assault was set for the next month, Urlachmar.

It was fitting.

=====================================================================

._______________.
|Chapter Six: |
| |
| Engagement |
|_______________|

'You said his memory was gone, Garael. I am not pleased with these
recent "headaches" of his. Not one bit.'

There was another cry of agony as Agosinthe deftly used his staff to
break another limb of the prone figure before him.

'My lord, please!'

'You will be silent until I demand you speak, Garael. You said his
memory was gone. It is not. He comes to me in confidence about these
dreams of working for the heathens, and it takes all of my guile to
convince him his thoughts are simply those of a tired leader. We had
an arrangement, Garael, and you've failed your portion of the
bargain. You will now explain to me...'

There was another twist of his staff and another broken limb.

'...why, precisely, this is so.'

Garael's haggard breathing permeated the cold air of the chamber,
coming forth in thick gusts. 'Mastcher... the tchaint is all
powerful, butch tche mind is tchricky. His tchoughts are notch erased
as we hoped.'

Sinth said in his lazy voice, 'I am aware, Garael, that is why you
are there, stripped of position, crippled, and bound. Have you
forgotten so soon?' He raised his staff threateningly.

'No, no! My lord, we did tche nextch bestch tching! We covered tchem,
sealed tchem away. His memories are only tchat now, dreams! Notching
more, I swear!'

Agosinthe lowered his staff and tapped it lightly against the floor
in thought. 'Nothing more, you say? You are sure?'

'Yes, yes, itch is so!

'Then we no longer need your... assistance, do we?'

Garael paled in horror as Agosinthe nodded to a masked Nihilist. The
viscanti returned the nod, and made a series of gestures towards the
bound man. Immediately a gargantuan cross rose into existence with
Garael's weakened form nailed against it. Agosinthe watched in glee
as the cross stretched larger at an agonizing pace, drinking in
Garael's screams as his two remaining limbs were stretched and
shattered against the macabre relic. His lingering cries of pain were
brought to a final halt when the masked viscanti thrust his open hand
into Garael, ripping through flesh and bone as though water before
wrenching his very heart from his chest. The Archmage closed his eyes
and inhaled deeply as Garael's corpse faded from view, sent upon
darkened wings to the Demon Lords on high.

It was beautiful.

`"'~'"` `"'~'"`

Ret shifted grumpily from side to side, absentmindedly itching
against his armor. He disliked being this close to the forest, it
made his brain hurt with a wicked sort of stinging itchiness in the
back of his head that made thinking difficult.

'Fain above, when is this crap supposed to commence?'

Char gave a little snort. 'You know how the Warlord likes it. They
know we are coming, and he wants to see them squirm. The troops enjoy
it as well, it's good for morale.'

'It's boring, is what it is. I want to see their blood, Char, not
their discomfort. This place makes me itchy, damn it.'

Another snort and Char was silent. Ret looked out among his troops,
which were all clad in cold black armor. It was a horrific sight, so
many hundreds, thousands of soldiers gathered at what remained of the
northern border of Serenwilde. Ret was on edge seeing so many swords
and bodies. His mind flashed with images of the blood rivers that
would flow when this battle was over. Oh, how exquisite it would be.

He imagined the cries of terror, the screams of pain, and the glory
that was conquest. The Taint ran strong within him, he knew this, and
it gave him so much power! It was funny, how Ardrak had been
preaching to them this entire time the truth they all knew. Taint it
or cut it. Ret wondered why they had to wait so long. Yes, these
fools that would not bow down to the higher power would have to
perish.

Suddenly, there was a great blast from a horn in the distance, echoed
by a closer one, then on down the entire line of the ranks. This was
the sign of preparation, and Ret's undead legions tensed in
anticipation. Ret knew the plan well enough. The second horn would
have the grunts and trainees rushing in first, fodder for the druids
that would surely be waiting. The third blast would be the Geomancers
ushered forth from behind, tainting and melding all the land before
them, withering the life from the trees and bringing forth their
earthen magicks. Then the final, fourth blast, and the rest would be
sent; nihilists, demons, and the elite shock troops all at once, a
glorious blitz to obliterate all resistance that would remain.

The second horn sounded, and the front lines surged forward into the
trees. Ret recognized the screams of his allies and forestals alike,
from the deeper howls of the loboshigaru to the high-pitched
chittering cries of furrikin. With the third horn, the Geomancers
were off. It was a strange, almost overwhelming sight to see so many
leagues of forestry turn black and wither all at once, like a
necrotic wave that swept forward into the 'wilde. Ret gave a final
stretch, rolling his head from side to side, and crouched down low.
The final horn sounded, and he raged into battle.

Ret could not believe the progress they had already made. Granted,
this was the largest force the Engine had mustered in years upon
years, but it was incredible nonetheless. Leaping from between the
trees and over the fallen bodies that lay before him, Ret inhaled the
wondrous aroma that was death and gore. It was exhilarating. He
unsheathed his blades and made ready for the first foe he would
encounter, and he didn't have to wait long. Some furry creature leapt
from the bushes beside him, chattering obscenities before Ret deftly
smacked it to the ground.

'Now, now, little beast, that's no way to talk at all!' he taunted.

The critter's ears perked up as it stared at him. 'Ret?!'

'My reputation proceeds me, let me not disappoint,' he uttered,
before slicing open the entire front of the hapless furrikin,
spilling its innards to the now tainted earth below. The creature
shuddered and died, his mouth still attempting to form words as the
fire faded from his eyes.

'That's one already, Char,' Ret thought across the aethers to his
ally.

He heard a snort of laughter in his head and the number fourteen
before deciding to ignore Char and focus on killing. It wasn't fair,
anyway; Char had that huge damnable axe. With how small these pests
grew he could likely fell four or five of them in a single swing.
Besides, Ret had a more pressing matter.

Ret focused intently upon running and sprinted blindly forward,
flying like the wind into the deepest depths of the 'wilde, not even
bothering to finish the stunned barbarians he trampled over in his
rush. Ret had almost run clear into his target before skidding to a
stop. He could see it, the Tree.

Before Ret could take another step forward, however, a large black
thing bowled into him and pushed him back, falling on top of him.
Whatever it was, it was heavy. Ret grunted, summoning his strength to
thrust the creature off of him before standing once more. Ret was
itching for entertainment and blood, so he allowed the beast to
slowly scramble to its feet and turn about.

'Ret?!'

He stared the tae'dae down. 'It is pleasing that so many of you know
my name. The pleasantries are over, draw your weapons and die.'

'Ret, Hart be praised, you're alive? Don't you see? It's me, Talg!'

The name made the foul itching come back. It was familiar.

'Gah, shut your hideous mouth, forest-spawn.'

The bear's eyes widened, and within his humble form there dawned a
small sort of understanding. 'They've got you now, I see. You're
tainted, just like the lot of them. Filth! Betrayer! You shall die,
even if I have to fall to see the deed done!'

The tae'dae roared and charged at Ret, who was taken aback for but an
instant at its words. 'Forestal lies,' he told himself, and tumbled
to the side. The bear was large and strong, but it was also slow.
While Ret wasn't the fastest creature around, he was certainly faster
than this Talg was.

The tae'dae went crashing into a tree, causing it to splinter before
toppling to the ground in a mighty crash. 'Oh, please Talg, save me
the trouble of chopping your forest to the ground.'

Talg gave another bellow of anger before drawing his massive hammers
and charging forward. The creature was beyond words now, having
already lost his calm and his focus. He would die easily. Ret caught
the first swing against the flat of his blade and redirected it,
throwing it out across the tae'dae's chest and into the other hammer
before bringing his second sword thrusting up and into Talg's gut. A
fierce splatter of blood issued forth, and the bear struggled for
balance. Ret gave a sneer, keeping the tae'dae upright upon his blade
before shoving him back and removing his weapon with a laugh. The
tae'dae gave another feeble swing as he went backward, and Ret had
only the need to sway slightly to avoid it. They clashed for only a
moment or two, yet Ret worked expertly, bleeding Talg nearly dry and
relishing every second of it.

As Talg stood gasping for air with his remaining lung, Ret gazed at
him. How pitiful a sight he was, how pathetic, how lowly.

'You... thrice damned... traito... bastard,' Talg heaved forth. He
stumbled forward a few steps and clumsily tried to strike Ret in
vain, who simply flicked the attempt to the side with a lazy sweep.

'I'm tired of you, friend, so it's time for goodbye.' Ret rushed
forward and gave a quick thrust, stabbing the tip of his blade into
the bear's soft and furry throat and smiling with glee as it came
thrusting out the other side. Talg's eyes rolled up into the back of
his skull and he was gone, the life ripped from him at last. Bringing
up a foot and kicking the tae'dae from his blade, Ret moved in
hungrily to complete his task.

=====================================================================

._______________.
|Chapter Seven: |
| |
| Nirvana |
|_______________|

The Moonhart Mother Tree was a sight, to say the least. It was large,
magnificent, a spectacle of nature's bounty and absolutely fitting as
a physical edifice or power. It had to go.

Ret scowled and crept forward, surprised his struggle with Talg
hadn't garnered more attention from the small group gathered there.
These were no doubt the rear guards which were kept behind for people
such as Ret who broke through the main lines. He crouched in low
behind a bush and waited for Char to make his move while he listened
to their nervous chatter.

'They're smart for taint-beasts, curse them all, waiting until the

new moon like this,' said a robed elfen.

'Luck, that's all!' spat out a second.

'Luck or no,' a third one said, calming the other two with a motion
of her hands, 'they've done it, and we must prepare. We've trained
for this, and the 'wilde will not simply roll over and die.'

No sooner had she said these words than a mighty taurian figure flew
past Ret in a blur with his axe swinging wildly in fearsome arcs
above his head. Char caught the first of them completely off guard
and Ret watched with amusement as the blade simply swept right
through them as though they were made of air and nothing more. The
others were so stunned by the sudden attack that the taurian had no
difficulty whatsoever ripping apart the remaining figures gathered
there. Char stood in the center of the clearing, his great horned
head lifted into the air with nostrils flaring at every breath. Ret
snickered and had almost stepped out from his hiding spot when the
arrow flew.

Whizzing across from the far edge of the space, the tiny metallic tip
bore right through the back of Char's skull and popped out the other
side, but did not fly the entire way through. Instead it stuck out a
small bit from the center of his forehead like some horrific third
horn. Not even the time to be surprised, Char slumped down to his
knees and fell face forward into the bloodied dust before him.
Creeping out from the brush across the way, a blond haired little elf
stalked into the clearing. He gave the taurian a small kick and
relaxed visibly, his shoulders slumping to the sides as he heaved a
great sigh of relief.

Ret was furious. His champion, felled, and not even by noble means.
It was a pathetic waste of a death, being killed by an arrow from a
cowardly archer, and Ret's blood absolutely boiled to see it happen
right before his eyes. This elfen had to die, and slowly, for this
shame.

He emerged from his position and gave a great roar, startling the
elfen to such an extent that he dropped his bow to the ground with a
clatter. Ret ran in with his swords raised above his head but stopped
short when he saw the elfen's face.

Boyish features, sparkling blue eyes, blond hair. The elfen gaped at
him, and he at the elfen in turn.

'O...Oak!' J'alre cried.

Ret's head exploded in agony as memories surged at him from every
feasible point he could imagine, the pain so intense that he dropped
his swords to the ground and fell to his knees cupping his skull. He
gave a great howl of pain and fell the rest of the way to the ground,
writhing.

'Oak, you're alive, after all this time!' J'alre shouted, rushing
forward.

'Stay back, damn it, back!' Ret roared. 'My brain, what've you done
to it?!'

The elfen furrowed his brow, confused. 'Oak, I haven't done anything
at all. Gods, are you all right?'

Oak. The forest, this elfen, they had been so damned familiar all
this time. Why hadn't he remembered sooner? He lived here, was born
here, even died defending this place before he was raised again as an
undead servant to Magnagora. Most of all, he remembered J'alre. His
Jay. The elfen he had spent his life with and had even grown to love
as something so much more. As the images and pain left him, Ret rose
shakily to his feet.

'Jay...' he said uneasily.

J'alre began to cry, enormous tears of joy that flowed freely down
his face as he rushed to grip Ret's cold body in his arms and buried
his face in the igasho's fur. 'I thought you were dead, gone forever!
I was so sad for so long, I didn't think I'd live.'

Ret closed his arms around J'alre tightly, holding him. 'I'm here
now, it's all right.' J'alre gave great sobs against Ret's skin, and
the igasho closed his eyes and remembered...

He had been alive, breathing, free. A great, proud creature that
fought for home and family, not power and prestige. He fought for
purity and life, and he despised the Taint above all things for its
blasted corruption. It had been a fulfilling existence. He had been
noble, fierce. He had been so... weak. Pathetic.

Ret squeezed his lover tighter against him.

Yes, he was untainted once, even a member of the 'wilde. He fought
against the Taint in all its many forms, desired more than anything
to see it eradicated, but his eyes were wide open now.

'Ret, that... that hurts.'

Oh yes, wide open. He was tainted to his very core, and it didn't
take a genius to see that he was better for it. How could anyone deny
this strength? Who would dare fight against it? Oh, how blind he had
been! How foolish! Magnagora be praised for showing him this truth!

The elfen struggled against his grip. 'Ret, I can't breath... Ret...'

Ret held him tighter still as J'alre struggled against his body.

Death was the Way; he walked the path of unlife and power. He worked
for the transformation. Those who could not be shown would need to be
tossed to the wayside. Yes, those who could not see were useless to
the engine, and, those things that had no use...

'Ret, no... I... love...'

There was a soft crack as Ret squeezed tighter and J'alre's breath
was choked from him. A final cold gasp of air escaped the elfen's
throat as his lungs and ribs were crushed into one another, then
nothing as the frail creature's spine snapped in two.

Ret let J'alre drop to the soiled earth before him. There was a
single tear in his eye as he moved in to complete the task he had
been given. Ret whispered into the cooling dusk air a single phrase
before he commenced;

'For the Engine.'

=====================================================================

._______________.
| Epilogue: |
| |
|Crimson |
| Afterthoughts |
|_______________|

It could have been done with more blood.

Ret hadn't gathered enough furrikin, and that agitated him, but the
fluids from these four would have to do. Before him lay a massive.
shrine near the stump of what was once a great tree, located deep
within the center of Magnagora's sister-city. The official name was
Dynagora, but the locals took much amusement in the nickname of
Magnawilde. The furred bodies were suspended above a giant polished
black cube surrounded by a sickening cloud of claret vapor which
filled the air with a stifling sense of purest oppression. Ret had
taken much amusement as he slit open their bellies in turn, laughing
all the harder as their organs slipped from within them. The stone
seemed to drink in all the liquid, and deep within it Ret could
almost make out the figures of four lithe furrikin dancing to some
unknown beat. He smiled, closed his eyes, and prayed.

'My Lord, know that my work this day is for You. Grant me Your
cunning in battle, Your tenacity in undeath, and Your skill in the
slaughter. May the enemies of the Masque and Taint fall swiftly,
cowering in Your presence.'

When Ret opened his eyes, the scene was as he had first found it and
the bodies were gone. He gave a slow smile and nodded to himself.

'A lovely prayer ritual, Ret,' came a lazy voice from behind.
Ret stood and faced Agosinthe with a wicked smile upon his face. 'I'm
pleased you found it as such, Sinth.'

The viscanti gave Ret a small pat on the back before turning to walk
away. As an afterthought, he paused and said, 'You know, Ret...'

The igasho twisted his head lightly to the side and listened with a
small, 'Hmm?'

'You really would have made an amazing Nihilist.'