Following the comments of the figure, Skallagrim that indicated that combat was about to begin the Tyrant’s daughter had donned her own Raiment of Conquest. The ornate yet brutally functional armor had slid on with ease and the practice of a being that had clad herself in armor many times over the course of her long life. And so when the world changed and the fabric of the multiverse distorted around her she was prepared and embraced it, simply standing with Lacathing clenched in her hand as the distortion overtook her and she vanished.

When she reappeared the world had changed and she could no longer see the expanse of the Hall of Dreamers stretching out before her. Gone as well were the combatants that Elisara had seen gathered in the hall, now instead she stood alone upon a world that she did not recognize. A white stone that mere humans would have considered massive stood next to her, only rising to slightly below her own waist height and the surrounding area appeared lush and green, split by dirt track worn bare of grass by the passing of countless footsteps. Across the divide made by the footpath was a small lean too that she was confident she could not fit into, a clear sign that this land was inhabited by something of human size and shape and not by her kin. 

The Princess of Vol’Kariz, daughter of the Liberator, finished her cursory examination of the battlefield by noting the small fences that were easily stepped over and the small trees that lined portions of the footpath. With her observations complete and no sign of her opponent the mriswring clad demigoddess nonetheless gripped her sword with two hands to hold it into a ready position. She appeared to be in position to thrust the sword into the ground at her feet, her two hands clasped together before her chest around the hilt of the eight foot long great sword.

Elisara cut an impressive figure in her position, the golden coloration of the full suit of mriswring plate armor reflecting the light of the sun brilliantly and the four spines that emerged from her shoulders similarly were highlighted by the light. Either for their absorption of the light on the part of the black spines or the brilliant glow of the ivory spines; both were quite impressive. Her face was hidden behind a faceplate that had a visor slit of sufficient size and placement to not obscure her own vision and from the peak of her helm rose the six spines of Vol Kariz, the inheritance of the crown of Maev’Sil’Vien herself.

“Who comes to face me? Speak now so that I may know who opposes me.” Her voice was regal and commanding, the voice of one who had issued commands for many years and who also had a practiced and melodious voice.