"Sorry. Trees, not stones for me. At best, I can encourage some redwoods to grow around there. Not the best defence, but best you're likely to get."

He glanced around at some of the trees, and began asking them to drop some seeds for him to grab.

"Try and weave them together...or make them grow into a solid wall of living wood, if you can." Hakar looked towards the fortress as he spoke.

"My speciality is the same as Alec's," Sarin noted, "and are you aware how much work it takes to get a tree to grow even an inch, much less weave patterns while using your element? Never mind, I think you're clueless." He looks at Alec. "Well, together, we might do it. Are you ready to even try it?"

"Quite possibly I am, and quite possibly you're an arrogant little prick of an elf." Hakar responded calmly, "Either way, just try it!"

Ashtar nodded. "Good. Make sure that she is, I want her ready for transport before the Rikklain Operation gets underway. At that point you will personally see to it that she is safely transported to Antarrak. I really wish I could watch your Work Jaral, I do enjoy it so; but I have a King to manipulate, and Empire to run, and no less than Two Nations to obliterate."

He gave a cruel smile underneath his mask. "Continue at your own leisure, but keep in mind our timeline."

With that he turned and left the chamber.

OOC: about my last post...Barbarians tend to be rather blunt.

IC: Jaral smirked, heading back to his chambers to train and meditate. He had belonged to a guild in the city, learning from the grandmaster ninja...a tiny old man of incredible power and unassuming appearance. After he had finished his training, Jaral had continued performing jobs for the guild...but his loyalties, as always, were to himself.

His chambers had black-pained walls and no windows, lit only by the light of a single candle. They were large, spacious, a training hall with only a cot in the corner to sleep on. Spikes on the walls were used for climbing drills while a variety of weapons were hung in a side-room. Another side-room contained what looked like an alchemist's lab, where Jaral could brew the potions and poisons used by members of his trade.

He did want to continue torturing Kiiri....but knew that waiting was the most prudent course, as well as making the experience all the more enjoyable when the time came. In the meantime, he would prepare.

Antarrak turned from his makeshift desk, where he was sharpening his katar, an orc sword with one serrated edge and a normal edge. An orc captain emerged into the room. "Sir, the men want fight. They want blood. When we attack?"

Antarrak sighed. He'd long grown used to the inferior vocabulary of the other Orcs, but their impatience was almost unbearable. "Soon, my young captain. Bastion is at hand." His katar was in his hand, yet the captain failed to notice. "I tire of your impertinence." he muttered as he drove the katar into his captain's belly. The razor sharp sword pierced the armor like rice paper, and the katar twisted inside the captain, killing him.

Antarrak shoved the body away and pulled free his katar, holding the blade to his tongue and licking blood from it's surface. Two guards dragged the body away, not even shrugging at it. This happened regularly.

The colossal orc clanked over to the desk and his eye glowed. He saw a faded image of Talos and the other Elementalists on their way to Bastion. He smiled, pausing to pick up his gem. "They are coming, Ashtar. The Elementalists are coming to Bastion."

"Well," Sarin said quietly, "if you wish to be that way about it, you can fix the wall yourself. Oh, wait, you can't," Sarin snarled, "so I'd suggest you'd be quiet about it. This whole foolish idea wasn't anywhere near my idea as it is now anyway."

Alec looked around nervously. "I shouldn't speak anymore."

He sighed, and then glanced at Sarin. "We may as well try."

He collected seeds and scattered them in front of the hole, then glumly said, "I hate being confined to bed."

Calmly, he walked over to Sarin and held out his hand.

"Which of us insulted the other first?" Hakar snarled back. He knew that he was losing his temper...but for once, he didn't care, "Either do it, and stop this inane bickering, or continue arguing and let innocent people DIE because of your arrogant childishness!" Hakar's eyes flashed, and he drew himself up to his full height, looking Sarin in the eye, utterly calm once more.

"Shut up. Please. Just shut the hell up," Jerick said as he walked past the two, going to where he was needed. It wasn't long before he found the fortress' forge. He wasn't going to squabble with the others in the group, he was getting right to work. In fact, he was even getting stares from the other blacksmiths as he suddenly started making weapons. He didn't care, he was busy making weapons now and was off in his own little world, so nothing really mattered to him.

ooc-thank MLA if you don't like the latin in my post

ic-John looked down, but he still felt that a normal battle will not save the battlement

"cum magne agmen, est magnus cibus. sed tamen, vincabimus si expectamus ei amittare eorum volutás pugnare."

he then moved to get a larger view of the fields outside the battlement.

(OOC: Umm...thank me for what? Did I mention that we had a distinct lack of uneeded Latin somewhere?)

"Move aside gramps, let the guys who can actually do stuff do said stuff." Gug said, brushing aggresively against the geezer. He considered knocking him over, but he wasn't that mean.

"Oooh..." Gug awed at the lookouts. Already his beady little eyes were watering over with visions of firethrowers and cannons dancing in front of him.

translation:

"with large armies on the move, there must be large amount of food. But still, we will win if we wait for their willingness to fight waver. taking their food will quicken that."

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

john looked angerly at the goblin. he moved to the walls to see what to do.

we began to stick his arrows, head up, into the ground. they begin freese into a spear head.

OOC: HoP, this isn't a world where people speak Latin. Either way, I have no intention of blaming MLA for something you did, so fix it.

IC: "And then they'll start eating people, and eachother. There are plenty of small villages not too far from here, and if they're hungry the orcs will be able to find plenty of food" Hakar rolled his eyes, striding into the fortress and searching for the commanding officer.

Hakar found him with Gabriel, for as he learned it was Baron Arkhon.

"Ashtar sent only one thousand men to retake the fortress, and these are some of the worst trained soldiers I have seen in my life." the Baron confided under his breath. "And the ranking officers I recognize from the Imperial Court. None of them liked Ashtar all that much."

Gabriel eyed him suspiciously, "And what of you, Baron? How is it that you were put in command of such an ill suited force?"

Arkhon snorted. "I have my own little theory about that. I once held Ashtar's post, but that masked bastard set me up! He discraced me in the eyes of the King, and I was subsiquently demoted. Personally I think Ashtar never intended for us to retake the fortress."

"But you did." Gabriel said resolutely. "And we shall ensure that you keep it."

It was at that moment that loud racket caught their attention. They looked up to see that the sound was over ten thousand wings beating in unison, a cloud seemed to block out the sun, but as it lowered they could see what it was.

Lord Gwaethir and the Avariel had arrived.

OOC: when I use the term "Elemental" in this post, it refers to actual elementals....personifications of an element. Air elementals look like semi-visible swirling masses of air in the vague shape of humanoids...though it can change to whatever they desire.

IC: *starting earlier, ending with the arrival of the Avariel*

Gwaethir had been a warrior virtually his whole life. He had been born into a small but high-ranking family, swiftly advancing through the ranks of the military until he had met the king's daughter. The story from that point was, as they say, history.

The true and nigh-omnipotent spirits of the elements were gone, but 'lesser' creatures remained, creatures much less destructive. Swirling masses of air accompanied his troops, Air Elementals conjured up by the Avariel mages. Leading them was an elemental of incredible power, one that had dwelt in the throne room of the palace for centuries...one that had had a hand in Gwaethir's redemption.

As they flew, they sang...ironically, it was the same song Gwaethir had forced the air to sing as he passed doomed villages and cities trembling in fear. A song of war, a paeon of battle, a march commonly known as Hurricane Wrath, when translated from the Avariel language.

More than twenty thousand wings beat in unison, a single song on more than ten thousand pairs of lips.

Gwaethir's golden hair whipped in the wind, his ice blue eyes surveying the landscape ahead. Despite the seriousness of the situation, he felt rejuvenated by the prospect of battle against a worthy foe....and a chance to test out his magic once more.

Since the Elemental War, he and Jericho had studied the new way magic worked. Their powers had nearly reached the heights they had held during the War...though they weren't as wide-area or easy to cast. Partially, this was why Gwaethir was determined not to underestimate these foes...but outraged, for they could only have slain his friend through a cunning ambush, and with overwhelming numbers.

He saw Bastion up ahead, and grinned, the Avariel flew to war.

************************************************** *****************

Hakar shook his head in disbelief and faint disgust, "There's a war going on, and all Ashtar thinks about is politics? I pray that he isn't the only one in charge of our defenses..." he saw Gabriel turn, and looking up he noticed the approaching Avariel army.

He grinned slightly, looked upwards and said, "Thank you..." his hands clasped in a parody of the gesture many used when praying.

Alec dropped to his knees by the whole in the wall, and pushed his hands against the wall. This was not going to be fun. In the least. At best, he might be able to waddle during the seige.

He exhaled, begged the seeds' forgiveness for disrupting their life-cycles, then pushed his magic into them. The first saplings appeared out of the soil...

"So what does that make your record for brilliant battle strategies old man? 0 for 2? I guess I'm being generous, you might have made lots more useless plans before we came across your path." Gug cackled as he strode past the geezer's spear line. "So what were you hoping to do with those, hope the orcs...hope the...hope-" at that point Gug's head snapped back in a sudden motion and then rocketed forward with a huge sneeze following. A stream of fire flew out, melting all the spear heads down into cooled puddles.

"Ooops...sorry about that." Gug said, looking at the ground in an embarrased maner then running away, giggling under his breath.

In the eastmost sentry tower, a young soldier stood in awe as he gazed at the approaching Avariel. Yet in the back of his head, he seemed to hear what sounded like great drums beating in tune with the voices of the Winged Elves. As the Avariel got nearer, he noticed that other voices seemed to be arising as well, but in stark contrast to the rich and melodic song of the Windlord; the one he heard was harsh, gutteral, and gravely.

As the noise got louder, he realized that it was not eminating from within his own mind, but from behind him.

He turned quickly and gazed out at the landscape. far off, not even a kilometer away, they marched forward.

Orcs.

There were too many to count, Goblins, Orcs, Trolls, all of them marching to Bastion, their ranks stretching into the horizon. The soldier ran to the edge of the tower and shouted to those on the ground.

"ORCS! ORCS! THEY'RE HERE!"

Gabriel rushed through the gap in the wall and looked to the east. There indeed he saw the approaching storm.

"Get your men back in the Fortress!" he yelled, and ran to Sarin and Alec. "There's no time for that now! Get inside!" He shoved the two in and climbed over the ruins. He signaled for the footmen to join him at the breach, and the archers to take to the Trenches and walls. He waved John over to him.

"Is there any way you can cover that breach with ice?" he asked as a wave of adrenaline washed over him. Even as he waited for the answer, the Orcs stopped three hundred meters from the walls; A huge Orc bearing a great battle axe stepped forward, a feral grin on his face.

The Siege of Bastion had begun.

Alec stopped, then leapt over the grand two foot barricade, mentally wanting to take a nap, eat some soup, and sleep for a day.

Alec slid to a stop on the wall, panted, then said, "Oh shit. He's big. And he has armor DOWN THERE. There goes my best way of killing him."

Hakar looked out over the approaching hordes, sword in hand, as they approached. Suddenly, he heard a savage warcry in the sky above him as the Avariel split into two vast wings.

They had flown up beyond the reach of orc arrows, their own feathered shafts raining down upon the army of green-skinned invaders. Gwaethir barked out a command, and Avariel who wore white robes over their armor began casting spells, summoning whirlwinds that tore through the vanguards of the army beneath, while others struck at the siege weapons, drawn by great savage beasts, that were at the rear of the army. Gwaethir himself began to chant, a great spearlike blast of hardened air striking out from between his hands.

The blast struck an immense beast that, along with its companions, had been dragging a huge mounted battering ram behind it. The blast reduced the beast to scraps of bloody flesh, sliced the two next to it into ribbons, and left the remaining two mewling on the ground, great gouges torn in their flesh. The blast hit the trebuchet, destroying the front quarter of the machine, breaking apart the counterbalance, and rendering it inoperative.

The famed Avariel Dragoons flew even higher, diving down with incredible skill and precision, their lances specifically designed to be removed easily. They struck the orcish lieutenants and captains, the commanding officers, then launched back into the air before the startled orcs could counterattack.

Gwaethir made an arcane gesture as he continued chanting....sending a small, whirling knot of air into the middle of the army. It seemed nearly harmless...until it hit. It exploded in a blast of hardened airblades, their edges only a single molecule thick. It seemed that the Avariel had developed an Air-based version of the classic Fireball...and it worked wonders in destroying several orcs at once.

Dozens fell, hundreds even, but there were still thousands upon thousands of orcs left.

Jechir had been nearby when Alec had been willing the trees to grow. As the orcs neared, the bandit hopped over the small barricade, turning to see just how many orcs there were. His heartbeat quickened as he had never seen that many foul creatures all at once. He drew Flashblade, a glint of sunlight seemed to sparkle over the edge of the blade as it was drawn. He silently cursed himself for not having a bow. Even so, he had an idea. He concentrated on the light glow of his blade, and it began to glow more intensely. After a few moments, the glow of the blade turned blue. He quickly put Flashblade back in its sheath, keeping the energy stored. He hastily ran up the steps to the top of the wall. He yelled over to one of the soldiers, "You! Do you have an extra bow of any kind?" The man nodded and pointed over to a weapon rack. All that was on the rack were some rusty swords and a single shortbow. Jechir sighed, grabbed the bow, and strung it. He looked around and managed to scrounge up a measly 5 arrows. "Well. There goes that plan..." He peered over the wall, trying to see what the orcs were about to do.

((OOC: Just making sure it's ok for him to store light energy in his sword like that. He's not going to do anything too overpowered with it.))

Sarin continued to sing to the trees, in trance, trying to get them to grow and entwine, feeling weak as a kitten as he continued to sing at the wall, getting the trees to entangle and grow on each other. He grunted with the effort as he continued to sing in elven.

OOC:if its over powered tell me.
Mat ran to a whatch tower and concentrated his power on a large lightning bolt that would jump from armor to armor getting weaker each jump. "Take that orc scum". He said as he released the bolt then winded he went back down and leaned against a wall to rest a bit.

OOC: you misspelled scum. It's borderline overpowered, since "armor to armor" isn't really descriptive enough

IC: Hakar fired off arrow after arrow from his horsebow, but felt that this wasn't working fast enough.