[centre][color=9e0b0f][i]Battle Brother Zerabil, Prophet of Vowzra, Blessed of Undasis

Level 23 Hero, 2 Khookies[/i][/color][/centre]

[hider=Summary]
[list]
[*] Zerabil sends Battle Brother Juras to train Confederate Tribal forces, along with a shipment of halberds and chain mail for the Stonespear and Bear Tribes.
[*] A new Diktat is appointed by Zerabil and the old, elected one removed - emergency is cited as the reason behind the old Diktat's removal.
[*] Saurathan attacks Orabson with his undead dragons and Hero.
[*] Flames do not harm Orabson or its people in Orabil's radius.
[*] Orabil opens its eyes and destroys the 30 undead dragons with its roots.
[*] Orabil asks Sauranath to leave or risk incurring the wrath of Vowzra.
[/list]
[/hider]

[u][i]1 Day After the Summit[/i][/u]

[color=9e0b0f][i]'Yes, send another shipment of [url=http://www.lionheart-designs.com/inventory/armor/Chain%20Mail/Silver%20Chain%20Mail%20with%20Coif%20PacSol.JPG]chain mail[/url] and [url=http://blogmedieval.com/wp-content/gallery/halberds/xg603.png]halberds[/url] to the Stonespear Tribe and the Bear Tribe. The Confederate Tribes are also in need of proper training. Send [url=http://img11.deviantart.net/2b1c/i/2015/081/d/5/knight_by_gerryarthur-d8mnuoe.jpg]Battle Brother Juras[/url] along with the shipment. We need our allies to be an organised fighting force for the upcoming assault.'[/i][/color] the scribe scribbled away Zerabil's orders and looked up expectantly when done. Zerabil thought for a while, he did not think that the Strong Tribe or the Sanguine Communion required weapons on training. He waved the scribe away and the man rushed off to deliver the orders to the Diktat - though he had been acting less and less like a Diktat by the day. The man was clearly inept and had no idea of how to go about readying the town for war. Zerabil had been forced to take up more responsibilities and duties than he was duty-bound to take. Being the unstinting man he was, he could hardly point this out as the responsibilities piled up. 

Later that day, he watched as Juras left Orabson atop his horse, leading the shipment of chain mail and halberds to the Confederate Tribes. One Battle Brother was enough to defend the caravan, but a group of Orabson's civilian militia went along. They had been trained by the fifty Brothers and Sisters of Vowzra's Victors who remained always in Orabson, and they were a rather good fighting force. If ever the Victors had to depart from Orabson, the civilian militia would no doubt be capable of handling all their duties.

[color=9e0b0f][i]'Godspeed Battle Brother!'[/i][/color] Zerabil raised his right fist in the air before bringing it down to his chest, just over his heart. Juras gave him a determined look and saluted before donning his helmet and heading out. It would be a week's journey, perhaps less if they could take a shorter route. Zerabil turned away, he had other things to be dealing with, foremost was the matter of appointing a Diktat who could actually do his job - emergencies called for dictatorial measures, he was certain the people of Orabson would understand the temporary removal of their chosen Diktat.

[u][i]1 Week After the Summit[/i][/u]

Upon his horse, Zerabil gave the new Diktat a last nod before spurring his horse forward and heading out. He had to be present at the Mountain's Crown, for the Victors would soon be marching out. His horse had not taken more than a few steps forward when it froze in place. A scream had arisen, unmistakably coming from the general location of the conference room where the Summit had taken place. A low rumbling sound followed, and before anyone had completely gathered what was going on, the light of the sun had been obscured. Zerabil only had time to see skeletal wings before flames descended from the heavens.
'Get the delegates!' he heard. Delegates? Did they think those who had been at the Summit were still here? But Zerabil could think no more than that.

Orabson in its entirety was engulfed, flames of red and blue, some crackling dangerously and some twirling and consuming themselves again and again. Zerabil, Orabson and all those inhabiting the town were engulfed in the flames. Above them all, the great form of Orabil loomed and was still. Then, for the first time in existence, the eyes of the great tree opened and a piercing green radiance emanated from them.

As the flames of the dragons died down, the remains of Orabson revealed itself. Buildings stood firm, and people stood looking from one to another, blinking in surprise and confusion. Zerabil breathed deeply, his heart racing and his very essence shaking. What had happened? He could only guess, but he had a feeling that it must have been something to do with Orabil. The flames had encompassed everyone and everything, but they had touched nothing. It was as if the flames had, with a will of their own, twisted away and cooled themselves down completely so as to harm nobody. Not even the grass on the ground was affected by the flames.

Then the ground began to part and giant roots shot out, hunting down the dragons in the air with precision and deadly elegance. Skull after undead skull was crushed, and before long the skeletal bodies of thirty dragons were impaled upon the roots of Orabil. The only dragon still flying was a strange crystal one.
[color=1a7b30][i][b]'You Have No Power Here, Great Reptile Sauranath,'[/b][/i][/color] the wooden lips of Orabil moved and its radiant gaze moved upon the conference room, [color=1a7b30][i][b]'Depart Now Before The Wrath Of The Timeless One Descends.'[/b][/i][/color] Zerabil looked upon the great tree in wonder, and he wondered what would happen now. Would a mighty duel of gods break out in Orabil's pure and peaceful skies?

[@ActRaiserTheReturned]