# Waywatcher



## Concrete Hero (Jun 9, 2008)

(This is something totally new for me, this isn't my normal writing style! Thought I'd mix it up a bit)



The green blur dashed between the trees like a ghost of nature, weaving an elegant dance between the branches.

The forest leaper came to rest leaning against the trunk of a mighty oak, high near the canopy of the woods. The figure turned, it was Elvish, the sharp almond eyes flashed between a tight mask and cowl. Those piercing eyes stared out into the distance; back from whence he came. They were still following, they wouldn’t be deterred now, the Waywatcher gripped a smoothed wooden horn on his belt; there was little else for it... He dropped deftly from his branch, green cloak trailing behind as he ran through the wooden stairs once more.

The infernal host that had been trailing the Waywatcher eventually burst out into a grassy clearing, spilling forth like a vile infection. Beastmen of Chaos, vile mutated servants of the Dark Gods. Braying and roaring wildly, an intense drum beat tempo was the heart of the march. Fires roared from torches and great mobile braziers, licking hungrily towards the trees, threatening them with their very presence.

Disgusting creatures, a terrible fusion of beast and man, the mutation fuelled by the fires of Chaos. Most merely had the head of a beast with cloven hooves, though Wolfmen and the bull-beast Minotaurs were amongst their number, as well as other, more horrific parodies of life.

An air splitting note rang out through the glade, seeming to silence the Beastmen. The shrill note pierced the forest with a wailing, ululate cry, then silence. 

That’s when the forest fought back, when Athel Loren stirred into life.



The call rang through the trees, many swayed in response, I felt myself pulled from a slumber, shaken from the leaves. The initial ire and bubbling rage fell; the call would not be sounded without the utmost need, I hoped the brothers and sisters would not rebel. I drifted down from the canopy and descended into the mortal realm, materialising to their eyes as a nimbus of glowing lights, not trying to overwhelm.

I tasted it immediately, the foul stench of chaos. _Hated _ Beastman, cursed repeatedly. 

Hungry fury clawed inside, I will strip their stinking hides.

I could feel the brothers and sisters now, saw them in this world even, their insubstantial forms darkened how. White hot anger flashed through my own mind as I drifted through the glade, searching for a suitable shell, they would have cause to be afraid. 

Wasn’t long, found the broken form of a dead-tree, I sank into its remains; no time to waste, death was a guarantee.

The bark spun and whirled, creating the shape of monstrous man as it turned. Bending and splitting the tree fought its way from the mound, clawed talons bursting from the ground. A suitable host found, I crashed through the undergrowth, roaring with unearthly sound. Joined by vicious Dryads small and mighty Treemen large, we burst from the trees and started our charge. From our Elven friends, a flock of arrows burst from the trees, sailing through the air and sending Beastmen to their ends; many fell, though many more remained. The nimble Dryads reached them first, their shrieking cries howled through the glade. Sharp claws biting into Beastmen hides, fuelling their blood thirst. Myself and the other Treekin barrelled into their side, twice the size of man we crushed them under our furious tide. The Beastmen were our greatest enemy, loathed children of chaos; born of malice and dark energy.

The hated ones attacked with weapons of steel, biting, slashing, gnashing and clawing, though these wounds would heal. I snatched up a goat-headed man-beast, crushing in both jagged talons; its cries meant little as I pulled it in two in an explosion of blood. I tossed it to the floor where its movements ceased. I slashed into more, mighty limbs crushing and impaling, dark blood sprayed over my wooden shell, anger at the corrupted touch rushed me forward in a murderous flail. 

‘Bring down the Tree Ogre!’ Some beast bellowed over the din of battle. I turned to see a great beast, a Minotaur charging me down; its horned head took me off guard and knocked me back, it had the strength of ten men at least. I roared as we hit the floor in a scramble of flesh and wood, I bit forward with this forms jagged maw, sinking deep into chaotic flesh. The beast rocked as hard as it could. Though it was stuck, trapped in my embrace, the many spidery limbs of this form angled around, striking and scything into the flanks of the beast, fuelled by desire of the destruction of this race. Soon it fell still, blood wept from many open wounds as I pushed the Minotaur away, back to my feet once more into the fray.
The Beastmen would fall, this place was our home. Many times had we forced them out, yet back to us they would always roam. Though this host was mighty, the largest I have seen, it will take great strength and cost great loss to make this place clean.

Something hit my chest, an arrow, one of fire. I ripped the cursed thing away before it could spread, though many followed the first, and quickly a carpet began to crawl, one of yellow orange and red. I howled in anger and pain, the burning heat threatening to drive me insane, fire was our bane. But then thunder sounded, the sky became dark, slowly at first, but then to a torrent, rain began to fall, soothing the bark. An Elven witch stood upon a rock, arms outstretched and calling to the heavens, breaking the clouds lock. 

Over me strode a great Treeman, towering over the entire battlefield, Beastmen scattered from giant steps, the force sending them reeling. Utmost respect was paid to the Treemen, for those that bonded with live Trees could not return again. A hideous Dragon rose to challenge the Treeman, mutated by the winds of Chaos, its ragged wings extended to full span. The disgusting creature roared and the two clashed in a mighty hold, the titans exchanged blows; rakes and mauls, falling to the ground in a twisting embrace, their area stayed clear from approach, none were so bold.

The battle raged on, from a Beastman’s mighty swing I lost a limb, with a bellow of rage I swiped the beast, crushing his frail body, his time done.
Though there was more and more, always more. More Beastmen to fill the holes, and endless supply fighting for our souls. Minutes stretched into days in this mortal realm, there seemed to be no end to this horde. Pushing, pushing, and pushing us back, even for all our strength.

Another horn sang out across the glade, not the tuneful tone of an elvish horn, nor the guttural blast of the Beastmen, another and more horns join the cascade. Without further warning, men of silver riding great barded horses burst from the trees, their identities dawning. Their colourful robes gave them away; these were men of Breton, Elf friends from past days. In a thundering charge the Brettonians crashed into the Beastmen with admirable ferocity, the men of Breton were hearty. With their lances and their horses they caused the Beastmen much harm, cutting a swathe through the dark horde as the beasts fell into alarm. 

From this point the battle was sealed, the horde began to crumble into disarray, their weakness was revealed. The remainder was still a bloody affair, though it was inevitable, the Treeman himself destroyed the final beasts, giving their remains a malicious glare. The great one dropped the head of the dragon before approaching the men of silver; I was impressed to see none of them quiver.



The battle was won, and new ties created between the lesser races. The Elf kind would honour us with a celebration, victory of the Beastmen and their annihilation. I felt myself slipping from the tree-shell, rest was needed, how long would it be before the canker returned? None could tell.





(Not 100% on the ending, but I think I managed to get into the mindset at least. Comments and Critique welcome!)

EDIT: Cleaned up the grammatical mistakes, should flow a bit easier now.
EDIT 1.5: Added a few more bits here and there, nothing heavy, still drafting.


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

First Concrete, damn you to a daemonic incursion for making me desperate to write a brett fluff, where is Vilhelm when i need him
Secondly, once again you show an insane strength in imagery, the waywatcher bit is perfect for me

I did like the poetry in the middle as well that seemed to capture the spirit of athel loren , mystical and ever defiant against the incursions of the world

My only thing is i think you could have been more vivid with the forest spirit. i honeslty wanted more imagery, more about the melding fusion of bark and flesh. I felt you seriously underplayed it. Also maybe it is just me but i think tree spirits are very unstable quick to anger and filled with raging emotions so i was expecting alot more description about torrents of anger etc etc.

However I enjoyed it alot and im most definitely looking to read more, though i think in a way it had closure, is their more.


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## Euphrati (May 24, 2009)

I have to agree with Deathbringer on the fact that I wish there was a bit more of depth to many of the descriptive points, other than that I like the overall feel.

The story unfolds into a saga-like tale; perhaps you might consider changing/adding a bit to it to make it into a 're-telling' or a memory being shared to teach a new generation? I just get the feel of a 'Gather round, my children, and heed my words...' moment.


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