[center][b]Collab between Legion02 and Rtron[/b][/center]
[center][h1][color=598527]Nimueh against the Horde[/color][/h1][h2][color=8dc73f]Level 1 Hero[/color][/h2][/center]
The corrupted Pronobii charged into the fray with harrowing cries, spears of ice flying through the air to crash into their normal brethren in front of them. From the front ranks of the charging corrupted Pronobii came naked members of the horde. They clenched only stone knives in their hands, and charged far ahead of their corrupted allies. “I love Lakshmi!’ They screamed in unison, their skin and knives glowing. The Order of Lakshmi charged through the ranks of the Pronobii, heedless of weapons and magic, their daggers slicing and cutting through armor and flesh. 

Of course, once a minute was up, they fell like wheat before the scythe in spectacular sprays of blood. 

As the corrupted Pronobii clashed with their brethren, there was movement in the sky.  Ashlings with wings were waiting to fall upon the unsuspecting Pronobii, using the clouds for cover until the right moment.

Nimueh kept her ground. Her blade reaping the approaching Lakshmi warriors and the corrupted Pronobii. The ground around her got thick with clear ice and blood-muddied snow. They could barely stand against the suicidal madness of the Horde. The assault from the sky turned the battle into a slaughter. The line of Nimueh’s Pronobii started breaking. Small skirmishes broke and in the chaos the flying Ashlings picked out the Pronobii left and right.

Nimueh, despite her best ability, knew she could not win this battle. There were too many of them, and too little of their own. “Pull back!” she started yelling, while she and a few others kept her ground. Giving her uncorrupted brethren a chance to flee. But she was dragged out of the final defensive line by an elder. “You go with the others! We will hold the line!” They had to yell to simply hear another. So loud was the battle. “No! I will buy you time! Go to Reas’Thul! Fight there.” But the elder shook his head: “Reas’Thul will fall. There are too many of them and too little of us. We must fall back. To Nime’Agul.” For a moment Nimueh was shocked, but when she saw the loose bands of her people fleeing, she understood. “Lead them.” continued the elder. “Make sure they survive.”

And so it came to pass. Nimueh fled with the others. While the strongest and the elder kept their ground. Forbidding any of the Horde to pass through. Those who retreated kept firing ice spikes at the flying Ashlings. Keeping them away. Eventually the Ashlings stopped pursuing. And so she went back to Nime’Agul.

The Ashlings fell from the sky onto the unsuspecting Pronobii. While their enemies were far more skilled, they had the advantage of numbers and the fact that for every Ashling that fell, they infected at least one of the enemy to replenish their numbers. The Pronobii broke, and they killed those that weren’t fast enough running away, or stood their ground. 

As the last body fell, it turned from slaughter to looting. In these cold, miserable lands, anything that the natives used was beneficial. Those Ashlings who hadn’t already began arming themselves with the better gear of the Pronobii, and those Corrupted Pronobii who were behind with the times began to do so as well.

Rasul stood amongst the carnage, blood dripping from his sword and shield. “Run, run, as fast as you can, little chosen one. You of all people should know that you can’t outrun death.” 

From the very cliffs where Reathos stood watching over his children a bit longer, there too stood Nimueh now. Behind her the Pronobii walked away in long, scattered lines. Reas’Thul had fallen. Their Lost brethren spared no building. The avalanche approaching from the distance heralded the complete annihilation of the place. Soon it was time for the Temple-Arena of The Great Prophet. The place was razed to the frozen ground. Snow filled the pit, as the halls teaching the great Ways of Combat collapsed. The crude, but named, statues perished as groups of black abominations and icy traitors completely emptied out the place. Nimueh could do nothing but watch, and wonder if they would ever recover from such loss. Not only in material. But also in knowledge. The hordes of chaos had broken the few elders ensuring Nimueh’s retreat. Those elders had an unbelievable amount of knowledge. Having mastered many Ways of Combat under the tutelage of the Great Prophet’s golden age. All that knowledge was now lost.

Nime’Agul stood its ground for longer than Reas’Thul. The village was not only prepared, it was strengthened by those who pulled back from Reas’Thul. With the united bands of warriors, Nimueh could form a true army. One that held its ground the following battle. That was, until the sky born threat that were the flying Ashlings came bearing down once more. Her line wavered once more. Threatening to fall apart in the small skirmishes where the Pronobii would end up losing. Even Nimeuh, fighting in the center with whatever strength remained in her couldn’t keep it all together forever. Until the first of the flying Ashlings fell down with a deafening shriek. Behind her stood another Pronobis. Unlike her brothers and sisters she did not wear armor. Nimueh pulled out of the fray to question her. When she approached the Pronobis, who looked more and more like a mere girl half Nimueh’s age, Nimeuh asked herself how this little one could have taken down an Ashling by simply looking at it. Until she was a mere 5 meters away. The girl had found her target. In a rapid move she commanded a shard of ice to fly through the sky. Impaling another Ashling. “Who are you?” asked Nimueh. “Arcadia.” Replied the youngling, as she tracked her third target with her eyes. “Come find me when this is over.” Was the only thing Nimeuh could spare for the little girl as she returned to the battle. With every Ashling slain the army of Nimueh’s moral grew. With every deafening shriek plunging from the skies the True Ones rose their blades higher and held their shields firmer. The battle was won, but at a steep price.

Arcadia obeyed Nimueh’s command. She appeared before Nimueh after the battle. “Who taught you?” was the first question Nimueh had for the girl. “Nobody. I’m Unwanted.” Unwanted pretty much meant weak. It meant that she had no physical prowess. Most Unwanted became cast outs. Useless. They died out into the tundra. “Then how did you learn to throw the shards of ice.” Arcadia looked at her for a few moments. “When your Great namesake lived, the Pronobii were in a golden age of prosperity. Many new Ways of Combat were developed. Then she died and we stopped developing. I chose to not follow suit. I may be Unwanted but I have a talent for the sacred art of Cryomancy. Thus I created my own Way of Combat. Casting.” Nimueh listened quite attentive at the girl. Like most unwanted she looked thin and frail like all Unwanted.

Nimueh, in the meantime started to venture out of Nime’Agul after every battle. The battles she had to face turned bleaker every time. It soon became clear to Nimueh that the survival of her race was at stake. Chaos didn’t spare anyone. It destroyed everything in its wake. Like a great avalanche. Only now did she realize just how dangerous it was. And on her own, she could not win. She could not unite the villages. Nor could she drill the locals enough. After every battle she saw how too many had died. It took some time, but eventually despair cast over her.

After every battle, be it on a summer-day or a winter-night, she ventured out from Nime’Agul. With her blade laying gently on the snow before her, she knelt, and prayed. She prayed in both the spoken language and, at the best of her abilities, in the language of the True Names. Though she only knew separate words. However, Reathos seemed to not appear. Not even after a full summer-day. To the dismay of Nimueh, they were also losing heavily. Soon she could do nothing but retreat with the few survivors of Nime’Agul to the next hamlet. Which didn’t even get a name yet. Her numbers were small and many of them were tired of the fighting.

It was on a glacier when it happened. Once more, Nimueh was on her knees, eyes closed. Praying to her god of death. From the distance a black dot appeared on the horizon. In the twilight of the dusk-evening it could barely be seen. So only when the dot grew bigger, more active and closer to Nimueh, did she notice. At first she didn’t fully understand what she saw. But then realized that it could very well be the aerial Ashlings. She lifted her sword from the ground and held it ready in one hand. A strange sense of dread swept over her. She could not take on the entire horde on her own. If they attacked her, she would perish, no doubt. The dread spread through her like a virus. Even tainting her syphon deep within her.

Then the image became clearer. In the distance, a murder was approaching. The birds were too small to be Ashlings. Before Nimueh knew it, they began to land all around her. Confused she looked around. A strong force was among the murder. But all the crows looked so harmless. They didn’t even caw. What she felt and what she saw did not line up. Until the giant crow approached her. With wide eyes she looked at the approaching bird, until her warrior reflexes took over and she readied her sword to fight whatever monster approached.

But right before she ended her silent prayer to Reathos, thinking it would be her last one, the Crow exploded in a harmless cloud of pitch black smoke. Though the smoke began to gather, forming ash which swiftly fell on the snow and down the cliff below. Before her stood a cloaked man, with a silvery mask. In his right hand he had a gauntlet, made from the same silver holding a lantern with a bright purple flame. While his left hand looked boney and black. “Who are you!?” she demanded.

But the man before her remained silent. He merely stepped forward, while Nimueh kept her sword ready. If she wasn’t trained since the day she was born, she was sure he knees would rattle. As she could feel the raw power ooze from the person before her. A raw power that felt eerie familiar. The man eventually reached the tip of the blade. The mask betrayed the movement behind it. The being looked down, at the blade. Yet, probably unimpressed, it pressed on. The blade phased through him, as if he himself was made from a cloud of black-grey smoke. With his boney hand he reached for her. Nimueh wanted to act, but an overpowering fear froze her to the ground. She could move anything, except for her wide eyes. Gazing as the person’s hand approached.

But instead of anything horrible it could have done, it merely cupped her cheek. It spoke with a strange, heavy, distorted voice. [color=a2d39c]“My daughter…My true daughter. You have changed.”[/color] The man took a few steps back, so the blade was ‘out’ him again. Nimueh’s instinct loosened up. She could control herself once more, and lowered her blade.

“Are you Reathos? The god of death.” She asked, looking at him with still big eyes. A few crows cawed at her when she mentioned ‘Reathos’. The man beneath the mask nodded. “Why did you call me your True Daughter?” she asked, curious. She wanted to ask a thousand different questions. A million favors. She wanted to ask him to reap the souls of chaos. Yet when he called her his True Daughter, she could only ask that one question.

[color=a2d39c]“Long ago, clearly before you were born, I created your kin. But like all newly created sentience, you all feared your surroundings. You feared the world for it was all new to you. So I controlled a Pronobis’ body. The one you now call the Great Prophet.”[/color]

“Nimueh…”

[color=a2d39c]“Indeed. It is no mere coincidence that you and her share the same name. You are her. She is you. Back when I controlled her, your kin rose to great heights. They had a gift to control their very environment. However, eventually, the body I controlled, had to die. But I never expected a being like you to have spawned.”[/color]

“But I was born on the day the Great Prophet’s death day. How can I possibly be here. Never before has it happened. People don’t get reborn.”

[color=a2d39c]“You are right. Nimueh died. But something must have happened. A piece of my power must have lingered. I cannot give you all the answers, my daughter. But what I can tell you is that you have the exact same soul as the Pronobis I controlled. However…I reckon that is not why you have been praying to me?”[/color]

Nimueh suddenly realized the vast amount of problems she was facing. Not the least the idea that her kind could be destroyed. But the saying of Reathos made her doubt he request. What if they were the old already? “I-I… Father… Are we destined to… Perish?”

Reathos remained quiet. As he pondered on the question. Such things should be asked at Fate, not him. He was merely the reaper. He did not decide when people should go and when not. [color=a2d39c]“Such things… They are a matter of Fate. I do not know the wishes of the elusive goddess. I merely enact her final will upon all creatures.”[/color]

“Father, we are dying.” Nimueh began to beg. Falling to her knees, she looked straight at the empty holes where his eyes should be. Seeing only blackness behind the silvery mask. “We are outnumbered. They wield weapons from a material we never saw before. Please… Just… If we are bound to die. Then for mercy’s sake, just finish it already.” She slammed her blade in the frozen ground next to her, and lowered her head. As if she was a prisoner on the block.

“No.” the voice of Reathos was resolute and sure. [color=a2d39c]“Fate… I will test her. I will test  you. My children, survive for what you call 6 winter-nights. On the dawn, you will meet your salvation.”[/color]
[hr]
[center][h1][color=598527]Reathos[/color][/h1][h2][color=8dc73f]Level 3 God of Death[/color][/h2][/center]
Giving little chance to protest, Reathos exploded once more in a smoke and ash-cloud. From it the Crow Form rose high towards the skies. Towards the southern Ironheart Mountains. On the highest peak he landed. Right in time, for he suddenly felt a great pain straight through him. As if someone had taken a massive spear and pierced his chest with it. [color=a2d39c]“What… Is this!?”[/color] From everywhere around the world he suddenly saw the corpses rising. As prisons of souls that should have descended towards the wraith-stone. [color=a2d39c]“Impossible!"[/color] he bellowed, as another strike of pain hit him. The very flow of souls, it was disturbed. Tainted. [color=a2d39c]“Vestec…What have you done.”[/color] Reathos could utter, as he tried to rise up. With a great deal of pain within him, he could. Dealing with Vestec’s absurd games would have to wait though. He had made a promise to his children. He gathered up his power, and a green burning orb appeared before them. In silence he started to create and shape his divine will. Eventually, it was finished.

The murder of crows had grown larger and surrounded the peak now. Cawing loudly in the cold gale winds. When Reathos was done, he lowered his hands and the orb shattered in a million pieces. Each shard flew out from it, hitting a crow. Yet the crow seemed unharmed by it at first. Each crow hit swiftly flew off towards all four corners of the world. While Reathos looked at them. He could not smile.

The crows began to burn. At night, all over Galbar creatures would witness green streaks of light, like falling stars, across the dark sky. While at day long trails of smoke left a line across the skies. When the crows approached their destination, they exploded in an ash-cloud. Descending upon the ground. Where under it, the bones of the dead stirred.

Through his crows’ eyes, he saw how his army of skeletal fighters formed itself. Digged in by nature herself, the bodies were in shallow graves. But not only angel, Hain and human rose. Rovaick and even animals rose with it. As the grand bushbeast bones marched once more over the world, Heraktati long perished ran between their legs. All headed towards the southern pole, hunting for Chaos.

[hider=Summary]
- Nimueh loses the battle at Reas'Thul
- Her retreat is covered by the elders, but eventually the elders fall
- Fighting at Nime'Agul goes better than at Reas'Thul but Nimueh still loses
- Arcadia, an Unwanted, uses Casting to bring down the flying Ashlings
- Nimueh prays to Reathos
- Her prayer is 'answered'
- Reathos explains to her that she's special among Pronobii and that a piece of his power still lingers within her
- Reathos says he will test fate. The Pronobii must survive for 6 winter-nights

- After that, he flies off towards the southern Ironheart Mountains
- Reathos feels the souls being imprisoned by the undead curse
- Reathos also feels the flow of souls disturbed
- Reathos raises an army of undead from all over the world and makes them march towards the southern pole (different undead than Vestec's. Vestec's undead are bodies who still hold their souls and freedom of choice and such. Reathos' undead are mindless puppets.)
[/hider]

[hider=Might summary]
- 1 Might: Raising of the undead army
- 5 Might: Leveling up

[b]Reathos[/b]
Level 4 god
8 Might left
0 Free Points left

[b]Nimueh[/b]
Level 1 hero
4 Khookies
[/hider]