OOC: Brothers in Arms, Sisters in Arms. Forgive me now for what I am about to do. I am at a kiosk, and I do not have Word accesible to spell check, nor a dictionary, nor the motivation to change this. Therefor, the following post promises to be littered with spelling errors, and perhaps even errors in syntax due to my current state of pollution. However, to make up for these pitiful disgraces, I, Romulus, will do my very best to conjure a merry tale of fanciful wonder. Brothers and Sisters, Enjoy.

IC:

Chapter 121: Whereupon the War Angels Return to the Garden, (again), and Reclaim it for Their Own, (again), so That They may Continue the Good Fight, in the Pursuits of Enduring Justice, (again).

When we last left our merry Heroes, Chicken Soup had been served. The Heros now lay strewn about the forest floor like so many Lotus Eaters, and the sound of their snoring--a soft drone of lethargic bliss--put all the little fuzzy forest creatures at peace. They too slept, along side our Heros, lying flat on their backs, their furry forest paws raised to heaven. A newcomer, one elven maiden named Lywen, who after some degree of enticing, had joined Tam Lyn, Alveron and Romulus, in their festivities. Empty soup bowls and neglected pipes, testement to their merrymaking, cluttered the mossy bank Romulus reclined on, the lovely Lywen, safely accounted for.

A small spider dropped from the sky, his invisable parachute trailing spider-miles behind him. With the most delicate precision, she landed softly on Romulus's hair, releasing the parachute to blow harmlessly into some nearby vegetation. Romulus continued to breath heavily and the spider, now seen to be peculiar in appearence, scooted quickly across Romulus' dusty locks towards his right ear.
In a second, she was gone.

-=-

Romulus woke with a fright. Someone stabbing him in the gut. He thrashed for his sword and within two seconds he was crouched in a battle stance. The WarAngels were laughing at him. Alveron dropped the stick and fell to pieces laughing. His head jerked so hard his visor came down with a "Bang" which only added to the overall joke.

Valdici caught his breath, and reaching out, said, "Come my friend, it's time for a councel."

-=-

They sat in a circle, so that each voice could be heard. Lywen, joined them, though she felt awkward with imposition. Genuine faces reassured her though, and soon she was comfortable with the proceedings.

The sage elf had started the meeting. "The Garden," Valdici raised his head, "is under attack."

"And we," Romulus finished, "are going change that."

"How far are we?"

"Four days, hard trot."

"Flying?"

Drask shook his head. "Too many."

"Then we march." Alveron was sitting bolt upright, chest puffed out, proud and defiant as ever.

"No," the elf winked slyly, "Magic."

Romulus nodded. "Gather weapons. We port in five minutes."

And then the camp errupted in organized confusion.

-=-

Valdici had just arisen from his meditation. Romulus headed the line, the Dragon Second, then Alveron on his stead, the other War Angels in a short file behind them.

Valdici addressed the group. "The Port will be open for five seconds. Drask, you must go first and quickly," he nodded his scaly head, "and the others must follow as close as you can. On Romu's command..."

The clan fell silent in respect of what was about to be done. Two of the younger warriors whispered to each other, "I've never seen a teleport before..."

The forest was calm. Thick temperate vegetation. Birds. Insects. And suddenly a black hole opened up in the middle of it. A mirror that grew tall, tall, tall as a dragon, infinitly deep, infinitly thin.

Valdici stood to the side, playing the spell open, holding it. His breathing fell into a measured pattern, the edges of the port reciprocating his energy levels by pulsating blue charges around the edges. Romulus stood opposite him, on the right side of the port.

"On my mark...Drask, GO!" Romulus barked. The Dragon, whose hindlegs had been taunt, like a runners before the gunshot, sprang forward and was gone.

"Alveron, GO!" Alveron reared on his stead and charged forward.

"GO, GO, GO!!" and the war angels followed.

Romulus called to Valdici, "All in, and jumped through himself. The elf was right behind him. As Valdici disapeared into the portal, the air around the forest sizzled for a brief minute, and there was a small pop as the port closed, leaving behind the smell of chlorine and razzberries.

-=-

"Are you ready for a fight?"

They were croutched behind one of the walls, ready to infiltrate their own home, and drive the evilness away. The Dragon was circling high over head, almost out of sight. He had been given orders already.

"Are you ready for a fight?"

All heads nodded.

"Stay on my ass til we hit the main gardens. Mages in the rear, Alveron with them. Once we hit the main courtyard, take them anyway you can."

Again, all heads nodded. This time with a bit of sweat dripping in their eyes.

OOC:QM... take it from here.

***Knowledge without Goodness is Dangerous
and Goodness without Knowledge is Weak.***

OOC--the first part sounded Pratchett-esque. And, Roman, in posting, you somewhat declared yourself QM... conniving grin why don't YOU take the helm for a bit? Oh, and having one's wisdom teeth removed hurts. A lot.

IC--Drask woke up fuzzy. Somewhere between drowsy and groggy... his mother, back in the Martissal Clanhome, had always referred to such a state as being 'droggy'. He saw that Naurelis wasn't there, that she had slipped away from her partying and quite fuzzed-out companions by force--Drask had sipped from her well and had thus ensnared her--to seek elsewhere what solace she could. The dragon mage thought no more of it.

He watched the counsel, advising when consulted, observing at all times. They were to teleport: vAldiCi would use his magik, which--like all other great Wizards--was only used sparingly and for great purposes, like soup and fireworks and saving the world from evil (for the nine hundred and eighty-fifth time this week). The portal opened and Drask was, as the biggest and hardiest--physically, not perhaps mentally--of the group was chosen as the guinea pig.

The dragon flew through the portal, scouting out the Garden's defenses. The walls had been built up where they'd been broken down--Drask had been the last to see the Garden standing, several weeks (OOC--quest time) before. Hordes upon hordes of imps and goblins now held the interior. It looked like a boot camp in hell.

The towers were held by several foul creatures all bearing crossbows of monstrous proportion. Here and there ogres clashed in training, churning up mud with piss and sweat and blood where once flowers and grass had grown. The Houses alone stood inviolate. Their Goddess-given auras protected them from the fouling touch of Dimindium's thralls.

As he came through the portal, Drask sprang into flight, narrowly avoiding a flight of arrows meant for his eyes. He did, but was not happy at having to do so. He muttered a prayer to the Elder Gods of Tamarst, to Sagara, King of the Mountain Hall, Father to the fallen Dragons. Drask knew what must be done.

Seeds sown in blood reap a fiery harvest.

Thornfire pulsed in his foreclaw, its almost-will seeming of like mind with him. He sent a great shout, to call to him his foe's attention--away from those who followed after him. And loosed upon each tower a fireball the size of his head. From his height in the clouds, all the dragon heard was a kind of sizzling noise as eight towers were reduced to smouldering rubble.

A fist of air smacked him in the mouth. Drask dived for a second and then pulled up, spitting teeth--four of them, in five pieces. Blood. He could fuel his magik with blood. Even as it dropped away it was consumed, leaving little wisps of smoke to dissipated upon the evening breeze. The words of an incantation sprang to his lips. To most cultures of Tamarst, blood magik was forbidden. Mostly, though, because it was dangerous to the wielder. It sapped the heat and the vitality right out of them. AND it was addictive. Drask only dabbled in it when he needed to use great and terrible power.

'Walk the shadows to serve the light.'

******************
What I have lost does not make me greater, but it makes me deeper, like a hole. Take more away and I will come through to the other side, like a gaping wound. But then I will be the wound and the body will have sloughed away. Is it possible to lose more of what is not there?'

Tam crouched behind the pile of rocks that had once been a wall with the rest of the War Angels. Romulus spoke:
"Stay on my ass til we hit the main gardens. Mages in the rear, Alveron with them. Once we hit the main courtyard, take them anyway you can."
Everyone else nodded, but Tam was more than a little skeptical. He never liked going into battle without knowing what he was up against. Knowing is half the battle. (G.I. Joe - real American hero!) They should find out what type of creatures they are fighting and how many there are.
Tam put a hand on Romu's shoulder, stopping him as he was about to leave the concealment of the wall, and spoke so that none outside their small group could hear:
"We should scout them out first. We need to know what we're up against in order to know how to best defeat them. Are powers should be stronger in the garden, but not by enough to defeat an army if we don't have a plan."
After a brief discussion, it was decided that Tam and Di'Ethe would scout, while the rest waited here, and they padded off around the perimiter of the island in opposite directions to cover the ground more quickly.

Tam walked lightly around the gardens that he knew so well, keeping to the edge where some of what they once were remained, constantly looking for a way to get past the perimite, but finding none. It was a standard dark army, orcs and gobblins milling about without much order, and the occasional grouping of ogres or trolls or men. They were sprawled out thickly, centered around the three houses, which from the distance appeared to be untouched. A crude wooden fort had been erected near the houses in the main gardens, but Tam could tell no more. The army was too thick to allow an elf any way through.
Tam met with Di'Ethe at the far side of the island, but the dark elf had found no more success. They continued around completing the full circle of the island, looking for anything the other may have missed, but there was nothing to be found. Soon they were back with the rest of their bretheren.

Tam was brief in his report:
"There's a few thousand enemies, motsly orcs and goblins, with some men, and a scattering of ogres and trolls thrown in. There's four ships anchored a mile or two around the coast to the east. Not enough to have brought this horde, but the rest probabily sailed away after dropping their passengers, not expecting all of the horde to be alive to take back, and I think they were right in that one, if I have my say. =P We could try to take the ships first, and it might give us an advantage, but we'd loose the element of supprise, which i think we need, given their numbers. Especially since we don't know the capabilities of their leaders. Romu's origional plan is probabily the best: we get into the inner gardens quickly, find the leaders, and face them down, while trying to put our backs against a wall so we aren't mobbed by their armies. We take out their leaders, then fight our way into the houses which should still be relatively safe. Then we can take apart the disorga-!"
Tam stopped short as a Troll stepped around the edge of the wall towards them. It was about 12 feet tall and probabily 1500 pounds, and carried a sword in it's right hand bigger than any single one of the War Angels. It seemed to be of the tusked variety, but the tusks were missing. Tam didn't waste any time, his sword was in hand in an instant and he was in a defensive crouch. The newer members of the group were all up in arms with him, but the troll made no move. It stood there with an almost aetherial quality to it, seeming to be almost transparent at times, then it spoke:
"En Taro Altair"
To which the older War Angels returned:
"En Taro ßal'Cruz'Ir"

IC - Into the feiry homeland of the AtW meant one thing, revenge. These evil beings dared to possess the one place that meant so much, and had the nerve to remain upon the AtWs return. These imps must be taught a lesson.

Xandim was forth in the portal, right on the heels of Alveron. Alveron had stumbled over to the hiding place to get a quick look before engaging, while Xandim was more focused on the creatures guarding the towers. The twisted minions of Dimindium had now been aware of the war angels presence in their domain. The legions of minions were slowly but surely becoming aware of the presence, thanks to a.. a creature of unexplainable horror. The beast could be heard from Xandim's current location. The roar rumbled throughout the palace, as hundreds upon hundreds ran towards their post, executing what many weeks of planning and training had done.

"They come prepared my brethren. Distract these imps... I will climb the tower and slay the crossbow weilders. My cat form is quick enough to escape unseen. When you see all 4 watchmen fall, storm through the center gate. We must reclaim what is ours..." Xandim spoke, his feelings for this place to strong. He had to reclaim this paradise.

Slowly the war angels fell back, out of sight of the imps, as Xandim slowly changed into his very first cat morph... the orange kitty, with extremely long, as well as sharp claws. Looking back at his brethren, he padded towards the nearest wall, eager to climb it and show what his skills could actually do.

-----------------------------------------

"Look at that fool, he's gonna get us all killed," Romulus whispered from his hiding spot, "didn't he say to distract them while he screws around?" he spoke, reaching for his sword.

"Look in the sky," valdici pointed out.

All eyes, including those of the imps, were on Drask, twisting and turning in the sky, dodging bolt after bolt.

------------------------------------------

Xandim found his job extremely easy. Not one imp, or other lesser creature had even pondered about this animal stalking around the corners. He had slain the crossbow weilders and moved in, hoping the AtW had heard him. Slowly he descended the tower, extra careful not to alert the attention of any minions. At the base of the tower, he slowly crept out, his eyes fixated... at the middle of a wall. There was something... not in the wall, but behind it. A foul presence could be felt from his current whereabouts, and it seemed to be growing stronger with every passing second. His confidence was slowly deterating, as he glanced around in hopes for his brrethren. Unfortunately they, as well as the creatures that lurked about, were all watching the mighty dragon in the air...

The Arena. This evil being was in the arena. A minotaur straight from the depths of hell, weilding a giant maul. This monster stood 8 feet tall, with a fire in his eyes like no other. It entices you to look into its eyes, showing you the many souls it has claimed, as its massive arms swing down the maul which ends your very life. This... this creature was.. entwined by what appeared to be poison, its footsteps burning through the cement in the arena, its skin melting and bubbling with each passing second. Its very skin was pure acid, enough to stop any unimbued sword dead. These, is what many gameplayers would name, the "boss" of this "dungeon".

OOC - Lets have some fun with this monster k? u need like magik, or an imbued weapon of some sort. Metal weapons will just melt... oh yeaaAAA Xandim's sword. Its enchanted by Xcanthan, an ice sprite from the North. With every shot delivered this creature slows down, thanks to the ice parcticles that get lodged into the foes body. but ya have fun, as capt falcon often says

SHOW ME YOUR MOVES!!!

OOC- yeah g0suness, yeah. shit...



IC- and so they decided that the best course of action was to be
the teleporting into their home, wihout the long march, so that they would be ready to be fresh and invigorated for the upcoming battle.
The troll known as Bal had some how come back to life.

vAldiCi barely recognized it, and was ready to unleash an attack upon it.. but it spoke
yes..
and the voice of the spirit is always imprinted. For Elven folk it was a natural ability to know ones true spirit from their voice. And so it was.
The other distinguishable appearances were bAls missing tusks.

Drask was circling above, buying them time.
"Time is of the essence." vAl said. (OOC- war2 @!!!!)
Bal had been mistaken as a troll of the Dark Army and so he was able to walk around like a normal Dark Army troll without being attacked.

Significant advantage.
Impossibility factor to cleave ones way through two or three thousand troops with a small group? high.
Extremely high.
"Once we begin to fight, our presence will not go unnoticed. And then we shall have the whole army on us."

"We shall follow and confront the creature known as "big minotaur from depths of hell". But we must go quietly to his location.
"AND SWIFTLY" puffed Alveron, his battle axe gleaming in the sunlight. " I HAVE WAITED FOR THIS GLORIOUS BATTLE FOR TOO LONG. "

Raising his arms in unison, the mage's hands began shimmering blue. "We will go unseen."
He walked over to each War Angel, touching a part of their clothing with his magic, and they turned invisible...
"We will not be able to see each other."
"Focus your minds on Romulus so that you will see him inside yourself."
"Let us make our way then.."

Drask circled overhead, swerving and dodging... waiting for their signal.

OOC- yea kids

OOC- Oh God, Guys I am sooooo sorry. I just moved to France, so we're kinda tryin to get settled. sorry I havent been 'round much!

IC- Lwyen was getting to know the men of the group quite well. She had not, however, come to know the women. This did not upset her, as she was comfortable around men, thanks to her elven upbringing. Now, she folowed vAl and Romulus to the portal. She watched the others disappear into it, and then it came time for her. "Go!" vAl told her. She launched into it, feeling herself spinning in a blue light. Dizzy, she landed in the garden.

~~
The War Angels regrouped. "Are you ready for a fight?"
Lywen nodded, feeling Ice at her side. Lyta stood at her other side, looking as fierce as the adorable wolf pup could.
"Stay on my ass til we hit the main gardens. Mages in the rear, Alveron with them. Once we hit the main courtyard, take them anyway you can."
Lywen was nervous. She didnt know how to prove herself to this group. With Elven grace, the dazzling human maiden glided behind the group, next to Alveron. She was read for this fight. She would prove herself. Here and now.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When I close my eyes I can see forever...