World Of Agatha
/ World of Agatha 15 Treants Vs Gnome Riders I
There was a little bit of everything, from flying monkeys to giant spiders, rodents, snakes, birds and even some wild leafriders.
From the south, came a massive form, whose arrival caused great concern. This treant towered over the others, reaching around nighty meters in hight. So far none of their opponents even came close to this size.
Earlier engagements were merely the prologue. Now would begin the real battle, since the fey folk host had been assembled.
Strictly speaking, Nimble's plan had failed, since only three enemies were killed before the army had a chance to unite, but all wasn't lost yet. This was still a band of veteran warriors. By working together maybe they could pierce the enemy blockade or even defeat the treants in a proper fight.
This second choice, however, would be saved for plan B. Unfortunately, with the band of ambushers being so numerous, chances were that one or even more of the gnomes would die in the process, if they chose direct combat, even in case they managed to achieve victory.
Regaining his breath, Nimble instructed his subordinates.
"Gain time. As much as possible."
Then, with a quick round gesture, a simple blessing was cast, filling their spirits with strength.
.....
Meanwhile, Ted grasped his wooden swords with even more strength and the writings glowed once more. But instead of yellow, the blades shone green and lively vines sprouted from the weapons, developing Theodore's arms.
Charging south with his wolf, the plan was to stop the massive treant from rampaging freely and reaching the magic casters. Unfortunately he was intercepted by a band of rival leafriders.
Being a well-trained mount, however, his wolf was faster and stronger than it's wild relatives. When they clashed, Ted's wolf barely got scratched, while managing to land some solid blows, witch ripped off eyes and deeply wounded the flesh.
But Theodore himself was still the biggest aggressor. His blows easily tore apart limbs and, sometimes, even hit more than one wolf at a time.
This was the result of the sword's vines, which infused Ted's limbs with natural vitality, greatly boosting his raw strength.
While many wolves were killed, about half of them survived, choosing to engage different targets, which left Ted with an open path towards the massive treant at the back.
...
Adan took a deep breath, refining his concentration and attempting to reach a higher level of clarity. For back row combatants like him, it was very important to distance his mind, just a little bit, from the front line chaos, especially considering that magic was his field.
With a fervent chant, a single point of red energy began to float above his head, but as the spell formed, Adan introduced a click of his tongue, breaking the magical formula in two.
Then, pushing towards east and west, he extended both arms, almost as if an invisible weight was slowly being moved away.
With a loud "bang", the red point split in two and massive walls of fire were created on the directions sorcerer had previously pointed to.
While no treants were immediately put out of combat by this, many were wounded and, most importantly, Adan had managed to restrict half of the access routes the enemy could take to reach them, forcing those creatures to attack through much narrower spaces.
On the other hand, the wild leafriders and many other beasts were completely consumed by the flames.
The forest also started to burn, an important detail, which would be much more detrimental to the treants, since they occupied more space and were largely made of wood, a very inflammable material.
....
Great bliss was apparent in Rosalyn's face.
During her time on Willowtown, she questioned her decision to leave the Crescent Moon Tribe, a group from the steppes, to which she belonged for a really long time.
What was wrong with her? Leaving that fun band of lovely troublemakers for a bunch of boring villagers and mushroom growers looked like a horrible mistake.
But, for this battle, it was all worth it. This was the most fun she had in a long, long time.
"Leat's go, Meatgrinder and Green Thunder. You both haven't been fed in a while. A good meal is long overdue."
Green Thunder was her wolf, while Meatgrinder, was her faithful hammer, none of which required nutrients at the moment. The hunger she referred to was of a different nature.
In this world, there were two kinds of magical weapons. One was crafted by the finest artisans and magic casters. The idea was to use rare materials with great innate potential, which could resist being inscribed with different types of magical formulas. The better the material, the stronger would be the magic they could contain.
Theodore's swords belonged to this type, consisting of powerful runes inscribed on a base of wood extracted from a dead dryad.
However, there was a second case witch people often forgot to consider.
When Rosalyn first received Meatgrinder as a gift from some long-dead orc chief, it was merely a regular stone hammer, whose only distinguishing characteristic was the kind of stone used, a rare vulcanic type, which resulted in great resilience. It was practically impossible to destroy by normal means.
However, she wielded uninterruptedly for almost two hundred years.
In other words, for two centuries, the weapon drank the blood, lives, hatred and sorrows of countless victims, slowly coming to embody a very vicious nature.
So a generous person would address this hammer as "magical", while others would prefer the term "cursed".
Rosalyn once more infused her muscles with the power of rage and charged towards the North, where a group of several treants had bent together.
But now it was different from the last fight.
Great excitement fueled her soul. This was an enemy witch could take the full brunt of her might.
In this frenzy, Rosalyn completely let herself go, being consumed by her own madness as well as Meatgrinder's.
Riding fast as thunder, the berserker stroke at one of the tree trunks before anyone had the chance to stop her.
The mighty hammer crushed the bark reaching even the deepest veins of nutrients. Rosalyn roared like a wild beast and Meatgrinder began to drink madly from the tree. It's sap being quickly drained.
With a sharp scream, the treant fell to the ground, looking terribly dry and died soon after.
"Hahahahahahahaha.
Good, very good! Who's next? Come together or in waves. I am happy either way.
Hahahaha."
And just as she asked, they came. No doubt moved by her great politeness.
A great swarm of tree rats climbed towards the branch in witch Rosalyn and her leafrider currently stood.
With a smile, she started crushing them by the dozens as the rodents piled up together trying climb and when some managed to get on the wolf and even on her body, it was as if they fell on a horrible death trap.
Some got crushed by the hammer, while others were killed by the arms pressing against her body. There was even an unfortunate bastard who tried to go for her eyes and had its head chewed off.
A large group of flying monkeys and their home treant took this moment of distraction and attempted to pincer attack, Rosalyn.
But Green Thunder wasn't having any of it. With a few short but elegant acrobatic movements, the enemy forces were stacked against each other.
As the treant extends its branches to slam her, the monkeys collided pathetically against the trunk, which knocked the treant off balance, making it fall on the ground.
Rosalyn took this opportunity and a few well-placed hits both, the monkeys and the fallen treant, were killed by Meatgrinder, who devoured their life essence.
The berserker's blood lust kept increasing steadily during the battle, never seeming to reach an absolute peak.
So terrifying was her aura that, even now, on the heat of battle, the fey folk host hesitated before launching a new wave of attacks, resulting in a temporary opening.
....
Nimble was impressed.
"This woman is dangerous. Her fighting prowess is even better than mine."
He was one the village's most powerful druids, a candidate to the title of elder, yet he was not at all confident in winning a duel against this woman.
Of course, as a druid, his value to Willowtown also included his healing ability and other applications his magic had to daily life. However, this world was a wild place and the fact that Rosalyn had elder like powers made her an important asset.
"I need to get her under my wing, before coming back. It would be a shame if the chief or someone got her before me."
Rosalyn had only recently returned after a two hundred year period of absence. Even those who knew her intimately on the old days, barely remembered her and she came back.
As such, it wasn't strange that her real power had yet to be noticed by the others.
Besides, it also meant she wasn't involved in any of the political struggles or factions.
Nimble needed to use this rare opportunity and act first to take this rare treasure.
But now was not the time to think about this.
After a split second distraction, Nimble once more began to cast his spell. Rosalyn had presented him with a good distraction by making the enemy hesitate. Now was the time to pierce the blockade, so their party could run away.
It was the same technique he had used before with great effect, but only this time the cloud was actually much darker and thicker.
Nimble was putting more mana on the magical formula. This was a very important moment in the battle, so he wished to maximize the results.
But before he could finish casting...
....
As he bypassed the obstacle represented by the wolves, Theodore rushed towards a giant treant that came from the south.
"This isn't normal. The largest treant I ever saw before had half of the size of this one."
Ted had a bad feeling growing on his gut. Something he learned to trust during his many years as a hunter.
However, now he had no choice.
Nimble, the leader, ordered for them to gain time and that was precisely what he intended to do.
When warriors start disobeying direct orders and falling into chaos, is when the battle is really over, because coordination is completely lost.
With his loyal mount he advanced.
Against this, however, the treant mobilized a great number of vines attempting to grasp Ted, locking him in place.
To this course of action, the hunter sneered inside.
"The same trick won't work a second time. Besides, your kinsman back then at least had the wisdom of trying to hide it in order to catch me off guard."
But just as he was approaching, a large branch started to move against him.
"It doesn't matter. I will change trajectory and you won't be able to hit. Then I will strike vigorously against the trunk."
But his thoughts were wrong. The real punch came from the right, instead of left, catching him by surprise.
The mount was injured on the flank, but fortunately, he managed to keep himself on the saddle. Albeit by very little
"What?! There was no branch in that direction. An I going blind or something?"
Ted's senses were exceptional. Even if he couldn't dodge in time. At the very least, he should have sensed it, before they hit. Something looked very fishy.
Was it luck?
Maybe. He would have to observe the situation a while longer in order to have a definitive answer.
"I need to hold this front no matter what. Theodore, of the first generation, won't be the weakest link, which will cause the party to collapse."
The hunter resolved himself before charging once more.
This time, however, he was being extra careful, making sure to keep track of the treants every move, it's branches and vines.
"I am going to make it this time." Thought Ted happily.
But, before realizing it, his wolf was captured by the vines.
Theodore just barely escaped the same fate by throwing himself on the ground, which caused his right arm to break.
The mount got quickly ripped apart by the treant before it's rider could rescue it.
But Ted gave a bitter smile.
"It was hard and painful, but I succeded."
Nimble was casting his spell, which would give the rest of the group an opportunity to scape.
Even if Theodore himself would probably die without his mount, he, at least, felt glad that he managed to gain enough time for the others to survive.
However, his hopes were utterly crushed, because a hand made of smaller branches came from the tree trunk and, covered by magic energy, interfered with Nimble's spell.
With a mighty blow, the charged cloud backfired, hitting its own master as well as Adan, who was close.
Ted was left with a bad taste on his mouth.
"I understand now. This isn't a treant at all. It's a dryad."
Whispered the hunter sadly as the cruel realization dawned upon him.
Chapter end
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