Kolsa

Her great green eyes snapped open as she again felt the agonizing pain of the death of multiple trees, in the same instant she felt a great company of elves die as well. She pulled herself out of the embrace of the towering tree that she had made her home. She was Kuir, but most commonly known as the Guardian of the Forest. She cocked her head as she heard the faint song, a whisper, a plea.
Calling for her to act, to protect.
Her rage quickly mounted and she stepped out onto the faint path, the small stones along it leaping up and trailing behind her, her characteristic yellow-green glow illuminated the air around her as her long strides took her swiftly toward the dying area.
As she approached the edge of the forest, her rage turned to grief.
"NO!" She screamed as she saw the withering trees, the darkened, britle plant life.
She looked up and saw the dark, heavy cloud, and drew her hands into fists, her green eyes blazing in rage.
But before she could move the faint song sounded again...she turned, letting it guide her attention out past the dying trees.
"The great city?" She murmured, cocking her head before slowly moving toward the song.
(OOC: Intro your characters and listen for the "songs")
~*~*~
Cerai stood still outside of her rooms, she was staring off into the distance. She opened her mouth and sang out again, pouring her pleas into the song that would wake the nearest Guardian. Her Black hair whipped around her as the wind picked up and her black and silver dress rippled in the breeze.
"Lady of the Wood! Lady of the Wood!" She called, "Come, wake, save the dying forests...save your people...save the Great Forests...Lady of the Wood!"
It was only the plea not the song now...for the song was in the old tongue, a language that she didn't even know what it meant. She only knew that it would wake The Guardian of the Forests.
Then she froze as something bright appeared along the edge of the woods.
Cerai's deep grey eyes widened and she gasped.
"My Lady..." She breathed.

Malus looked out across the dark lands from his fortress deep within, beyond what any person could travel. The fortress was named Arcis which had appeared just as suddenly as he had. He sent his dark taint as far as he could for now and would continue when the time was right. He had complete control over the dark lands and with his darkness came the husks. Formally creatures of the dark lands, they were now merely empty shells without any thoughts of their own. Malus wandered into his main chambers where directly in the center was something similar to a black hole in appearance. He stepped in front of it and motioned his hand at it, whispering "phlith" as the hole slowly morphed and revealed the location of where his reach currently was. Malus closed the hole and left the room, as he saw that his conquest of the Great City was drawing nearer and nearer. Then soon the entirety of Kolsa will be engulfed in his dark taint and will be the start to his ultimate goal.

Deep inside a hardened chamber of magma and fire slept Fuoco. Those to humans the lava was alive and moving, to Fuoco it moved to his touch and hardened at his will. At the current moment he was savoring an oak log burning somewhere in the Great City. His flames licked at the dry wood making him lick his lips... but there was another taste to him. Flames he had not granted birth, fire that was not his and the taste of living wood and flesh. Flesh... it put an old rotting taste in your mouth for decades. Turning in his bed of coals he tried to stir his attention to the once delicious oak log being licked by his flames, but the stench of burning flesh was too strong for him. His red eyes snapped open to the world around him with a disturbed look. Rubbing a hand over his chest flames sparked into life and took the form of a waving cloak of red. Rising from his coals he began to walk up steps that began to form before his feet as he reached for the surface of his volcano. Reaching the surface he broke through the hardened magma, letting fresh burning magma to escape, and looked over the edge of the rock to see a small forest village nearby being burned down. A dark cloud hung over the attackers and Fuoco felt dark tidings that it bore. Though his volcano hadn't awakened for many years; Fuoco felt that somewhere amongst the world someone would once again call upon the fire and truly awaken him and his pit.

Out in the middle of the ocean lay a tiny island, unknown to man. What once was covered in dense, lush, green foliage was brown and dead. No life existed on the Island that was Kapuluan's home as he himself was not there to grant it life. Kapuluan was deep underground, hidden in a grotto, sleeping. Many many years ago he decided it was best for his lands to survive on their own and they had for a long, long time save for the one he inhabited. He was completely surrounded by a large bloom so his slumbering form would be protected. It was the only color on the entire island and it made up for the dullness in spades. Every fiber was made of a single rainbow it seemed and it shimmered and tossed it's beauty upon the rocks like living flames. Deep inside however, Kapuluan who was once hailed to be the epitome of exotic beauty was as decayed as the island itself. His hair, once as golden as the sun was gray and brittle. His skin was thin, almost transparent, and his eyes were dry and shriveled like the undead in a campfire tale. The only thing still alive was his heart and even that beat faintly and slow as the passage of time.

Marcus is awakened by a horrifying crash from deep within the mountain. He had been asleep for a long time of all the guardians he sleeps the most, but then when the earth sleeps so does he. Eventually the silence below the mountains returns. Then he hears a song that calls to a deep recess in his soul. He thinks who has the power to call to the guardians now? This does not bode well. A song of calling and the bones of the mountains crying in pain. I need to investigate. He then rises and moves towards the exterior of his mountain home.

Upon arriving at the surface he reflect on what he saw on the way there, the norsi I saw where fleeing toward the deeps parts of the world. And there was blight on the tunnel walls and the stones near it are crying in pain. I must deal with this imbalance. Marcus then looks around for the source of the song and notices a mountain fortress. Is that the same walled village I saw the last time I was awake. I believe it is. I should go check there and see if that is where the singer is.

Suddenly he hears the song again clearer this time. He turns his head from the fortress to the city across the forest. So that is where the song is coming from. I best hurry there, I cannot afford to waste time. But I have to pass the forest, I hope Kuir will forgive me for any damage i cause in my rush to the city. But first let me resume my human form.

He looks around for a outcropping of granite. Once he locates one he heads over to it and whispers in the language of stones "take me to the bottom of the mountain, old friend." With a screech of shifting stone the granite with Marcus atop it slides to the bottom.

Upon arriving he runs into the depth of the forest.

Far into the north, beyond the reach of trees and shrubs, and where only the most hardy of creatures survive, was Nylea's home. A solid glacier, buried in snow, of which only she knew how to enter or exit. But the Guardian of the snows was not resting in her hollowed home of ice as she normally did. As of late, she'd started venturing out more often. Something was very wrong. She was not the type to be much attentive of the world around her though she saw everything the snow touched -- she knew its reach, who it touched, where it fell and how. In fact, she usually didn't much care where she let the snow fall, until now. The wrongness she sensed had been drawing her to pay far closer attention.

Nylea sat above her glacial home and below a darkened sky, amongst a snowstorm that whirled all around her, though unable to touch a hair on her head or a stitch of her clothes.
Her eyes were grave as she looked out amongst the bleak horizon of grey.
She stretched out her hand to receive a single snowflake and closed her fingers around it. Her eyes shut sleepily as she saw all that her precious snow had seen.

"So cruelly your brothers are falling, little one" she whispered. "But why? I did not bid this."

She saw the deaths of humans and elves, trapped by freakish blizzards and frozen by the bitter cold, pummeled by hail stones the size of an ogre's fist, pierced by icicles hanging from the trees, or crushed by the weight of the snow and ice on their homes. She saw the deaths of animals and plants alike, and the reach of her element's wrath inching wider and farther with every passing day.

This was not her work. Bitter anger at her element being used this way, and by someone else for that matter, welled up inside of her. She could not let this go on. Even for Nylea, passive as she was, it was too much.

Endless questions without answers formed in her head and she no idea where to even begin to search. She began to wonder at the possibilities when a sound so faint yet so beautiful drifted to her ears and made her stand on the tips of her toes to hear more.

The darkness of the forest wrapped itself around like a black blanket of fear making Annette shiver. She walked slowly with her shoulders hunched. Hoovering just an inch or so above her palm was a little orb omitting a soft bluish light. She made no noise as her bare feet crept over the soft moss. She let her eyes travel over the land searching as her ears picked up the sound of others hollering through the woods the name of the children who were lost. Desperately her deep violet eyes strained to see through the darkness, but there was a new moon and the clouds were covering the stars. It was going to get very cold soon; if the children weren't found they would surely freeze.

Then Annette stopped suddenly and fixed her eyes on the sky. The wind whistled around her tugging at her light violet gown and making her chocolate brown curls dance on the nape of her neck. She let her eyelids close so her long lashes rested artistically upon her pale cheeks. Then her soft lips parted and music began to pour forth like a soft flute.

"Wake now Lady of the Stars! Leave your slumber and come! Come to us and shine your light! Let your stars come shining bright! Lady of the stars your people need your light!"

Her voice flooded the forest echoing through the trees making all the elves stop in their tracks. The song was in a tongue they did not know, but all knew it was Annette.

~~~~~~

A pair of dark blue eyes opened with a ferocity to rival a lion. Pink rushed into the ivory skin as the head of ebony hair lifted from its place of rest on the slender arms. Her ears were alert as the song the woke her continued to pour forth. She stood from her bed of moonstone and stepped lightly of the surface of the white orb. She turned her attention to the planet where the song was coming and saw a young girl dressed simply singing desperately for her help. Grandly Serena made her way among the stars and her anger grew for a shadow of dark clouds mulled her vision. As she made her way towards them she swept her hand grandly from left to right and the clouds dispersed.

Young Annette let her mouth fall open and a beautiful woman descended upon her. Her dark head bent as she sunk into the deepest curtsey.

"Your greatness!" she gasped as the woman glittering with the light of the stars stepped onto the ground before her.

"Singer," she answered as she raked the scene for what she had been called for, but strangely, she found nothing.

Deep in the south of Kolsa in a forest full of plants and bushes was Visage's camp for the night.His camp positioned besides a small lake of fresh water where he was currently swimming looking up into the sky leting his thoughts wander.Visage did not have to worry about his camp being found because it was hidden behind many bushes and trees,the only way to really find it was to walk along the edge of the lake and walk past a few bushes.While Visage stared up into the sky he thought of where he would set off to next.


Visage began to swim back toward the land near his camp after thirty minutes of swimming and thinking.When he arrived on dry land he headed to his encampment to grab his trusty War-Scythe.While he was walking toward his encampment he began to talk to himself."Can't get rusty ,I need to start my combat training exercise."he said to himself before arriving at his camp.Visage walked through the entrance of his tent and looked around for his War-Scythe.He started to rummage through the side of the tent looking for the Scythe.He steped outside the tent and began to look around the encampment.He then found his Scythe posted against a nearby tree forgetting he had placed there before he went swimming.


Visage grabed his trusty Scythe and began to walk back to the edge of the lake.Visage stopped in the middle of a clear area of the forest where he can swing in wide ranges without worry of hitting any tree by accident.Visage had begun to swing his Scythe around in two full circle swings around in a graceful manner while following up with a upward swing and then bringing it down in a downward arc,making it stick to the ground as he propels himself about four feet away still holding onto the scythe,upon landing he lifts the scythe above his head and bringing it down in a downward arc again following up with a three hundred-sixty degree sideways swing bringing the scythe down on the ground and ending the graceful combonation of strikes."I need to do better then this if I ever want to be one of the best warriors of Merfolk race."he told himself as he looked into the clear reflective lake.He keelt down by the lake and took both his hands and cupped them together,he submerged his cupped hands into the water and lifted them out a few seconds later seeing that his hands held the water he splashed his face with it and closed his eyes for about five seconds before opening them again.

Visage looked out to the lake admiring it."Well i better catch a nap before I go traveling later"he told himself as he got up from kneeling and began to walk toward his encampment.When Visage arrived in his tent he laid his weapon on the floor of the right side of the tent out of the way from his sleeping area.Visage laided on his stomach on the mat he used to sleep on and began to fall asleep.

The sands swept along the arid wastelands. The sun beat down relentlessly, turning the ground hot and dry. This particular part of the desert was completely devoid of any life, offering no oasis or shelter of any kind. That is save for one man. Yachim had been sleeping beneath the dunes, shifting fitfuly. Lately his dreams had become more and more disturbing, filled with unnecessary death, starvation, dehydration, madness. He awoke, rising as a great sand storm swept through. The wind died and the sand fell in to form a single man. His image was one of absolute sorrow and hopelessness. His dead white eyes scanned the wasteland. His entire body ached, as if he was being pulled in multiple directions. He could feel the desert growing, reaching further out and infringing upon other realms and destroying their life. His heart ached for needless suffering, not all creatures are suited to live in the harsh landscape where he rules and he believed it a part of intellectual survival to realize this and stay away. This perversion of his power took away that survival strategy. He wandered off towards wears the sands gave way to the sun-baked clay earth. As he arrived, he saw the bones of creatures foreign to these parts littering the wastelands. A nearby oasis had been dried up, leaving only forlorn husks of trees, lying twisted in the cracked bed below.

"This is not as things should be..." Yachim shook his head, offering the little sympathy he could muster. As the wind picked up once more, he could hear the faintest traces of a voice. He looked out towards the direction the wind blew from, trying to catch it again. The wind blew harder, carrying sand upon it. Yachim let the sand fall upon him, allowing what they had heard to flow through him. There was much suffering and crying in the desert, but through it all, a singe voice cut through, its melody sweet and familiar.

"It seems it is time." Yachim lifted his hood, covering his face, and began to head off towards the source of the song.

Down along the plains, at the far end of a long narrow valley of grasslands, in a patch of blackened soot knelt the Guardian of the area. It had taken several hours worth of riding to make it down the the end of this valley; a kind of ravine with short cliff walls rising about thirty feet up to another plateau. The boy had been out, patrolling his realm when this sudden feeling of wrongness set in. Down along the ravine, from wall to wall an entire half mile section had caught ablaze, consuming the grass and any small animals in the area, and he felt their deaths, each and every one. Gazing regretfully at the scorched earth and charred bones of field mice the only optimistic thought to be had was that it hadn't spread.

The rock walls of the ravine channeled a pretty constant wind that, from the direction of the scorch marks left by the flames licking at the stone, had forced the brushfire back into a corner until it burned itself out. This had been one of his favorite spots too, for that exact reason. The constant breath of wind flowing down the natural corridor carried along the sounds and smells of the life that teemed in the Plains. Now, it carried only the scent of ash.... and the faint whisperings of something, a song? Reaching up, he held back the veil of hair obscuring the left side of his face. Yes, it definitely sounded like someone singing.

"I see... Then we have work to do" he said, walking over to the leader of the horse pack. A pure blooded stallion as black as night and as fiery a temper as they came. They shared similar feelings about this flagrant invasion of territory. It must not be allowed to continue. Together, they would go out and stop it. Pausing only to grab his favorite longbow and tuck a short dagger into the sash around his waist, he'd vault up onto the back of his dark horse and ride off down the plains, searching for the singer.