<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-size: 125%; line-height: 116%;">-ENVIRONMENTAL POST-</span></span></div><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: white;background:white;"/></div><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-size: 125%; line-height: 116%;"><div style="text-align: center;">Soluunar</div></span></span><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: white;background:white;"/></div><br/><span style="font-size: 112%; line-height: 116%;"><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold">“I’m joining the fight. If there are consequences for my actions, then so be it. The people of Soluunar… It is wrong to ignore them!”</span></span><br/><br/><br/>Gaius waved his staff, focusing his efforts on the immense tide of black steel and snarling fangs on the far side of the field. The cyclone came down from the sky, not as strong as the others but still enough to do damage; Gaius leaned on the ancient length of wood, sweat beading his brow, as the near-constant strain on his power since arriving on Soluunar was finally taking its toll. But then something happened. <br/><br/>The tornado shot back up into the sky, and came back down in four spots at once, each one roughly the same size as the original, as a tremendous storm cloud swirled in the middle of the four. Lightning cut across the sky, thunder rumbled as if coming from every direction at once, and then there was ice, jagged daggers of it, swirling around, cutting through the forces, impaling Tutar left and right, even as hailstones the size of coconuts dropped down on them. Gauis could only stare in shock. <br/><br/>"But how? How could… unless…"<br/><br/>He turned around and stared at the Goddess, his fatigue mingling with relief as he understood what was happening. <br/><br/>"Karessa. You waste little time, it would seem."<br/><br/>She was a sight to behold. Sparkling blue eyes, brown hair and a long silver dress lent little doubt as to who she was for her fellow immortals. Although she did not have the look of a warrior, she carried a fearsome power that rivaled that of the other Elder Gods assembled there, a power that those around her could sense with ease. Many of the brave soldiers stopped what they were doing to take in what was happening. Some of them looked frightened, some bewildered.<br/><br/>“Oh no… It’s… it’s just like Thaam!” One of them cried. “This really is the end of us…” The poor man fell to his knees and began to pray, not to Karessa. The people of Soluunar had stopped their prayers to her after her counterpart’s arrogance struck fear into their hearts.<br/><br/>“Thaam’s Ghost? Here?” Another commented.<br/><br/>“Are even the Gods without mercy?”<br/><br/><br/>Rather than despair, Karessa used this as encouragement and continued her onslaught. She would use her powers of frost to strike the very same fear into the Tutar!</span><br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: white;background:white;"/></div><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-size: 125%; line-height: 116%;"><div style="text-align: center;">Upper Regions</div></span></span><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: white;background:white;"/></div><br/><br/>"Hello, Naiya."<br/><br/>The Elder Goddess turned around quickly, recognizing the voice before she could see the speaker. There was no mistaking it; Freiya was one of the most recognizable of all the Upper Regions' denizens, even if many felt somewhat uncomfortable in her company. She wasn't a very warm woman, but it made sense that the Circle would have a personality to balance out Valiya's approachability. It didn't make talking to her any more enjoyable, though.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF4000">"Lady Freiya,"</span>Naiya said softly with a deferential lowering of her eyes as she fought to keep her voice neutral,<span style="color: #FF4000"> "I wasn't expecting company." </span><br/><br/>"You are playing a dangerous game."<br/><br/>She blinked, staring up and into the Circle Goddess' cold scrutiny.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF4000">"I don't understand."</span><br/><br/>"That is correct," she retorted, her face as blank as it always was as she moved deeper into Naiya's home. Although the woman had never set foot inside before, she didn't seem too concerned with observing her surroundings; her eyes were like blue chips of ice, staring right through Naiya and making her fight down the sudden urge to tremble. "You<span style="font-style: italic">don't</span>understand. You are playing with forces that go far beyond what you can comprehend, you silly girl."<br/><br/>While Seagan Kahz had hardly doffed his hat to her, it was still somewhat jarring to be spoken to like that, even by a Circle Goddess. Naiya felt her jaw drop with surprise, but a moment later irritation woke up in her as she took an angry step forward.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF4000">"Now listen he-"</span><br/><br/>"You believe because Malinar warms your bed a few times a century, that you understand the workings of the Circle? That he would exempt you from his rage when he discovers your interference?"<br/><br/>Naiya's retort died on her lips; the conversation she had with Akryanus flashed through her mind, and a cold feeling spread through her body as the truth became clear.<br/><br/>"He is visiting with Kahz now," Freiya said as she turned to leave. "I do not envy you, Naiya."<br/><br/>The next few moments were a frenzied blur. She remembered leaving her home, reaching the woods and plunging into the tree-line, ignoring the voice in the back of her mind attempting to warn her. She was moving, very quickly, towards a potentially dangerous situation, and none of her Demigods were anywhere in sight. She stifled her misgivings with an angry shake of her head; there was nothing to worry about. Nothing to-<br/><br/>When she arrived at the clearing where she'd received the cryptic message from Master Kahz, the old soldier was nowhere to be seen. The fire was out, and the pit was a circle of black, burnt logs and soot. But the place wasn't deserted. Nearly twenty feet laid between her and Malinar, yet the God of Chaos seemed to clear the distance in no more than three steps, his long brown hair remaining in place in spite of his quickness.<br/><br/>"You've been busy, Naiya."<br/><br/>His voice was soft, hardly more than a whisper, and it sent a chill down her spine. She had seen him livid, furious and shouting, but never like this. There was something in his eyes that terrified her.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF4000">"Malinar, please, you must listen to me, I didn't-" </span><br/><br/>The hand moved with enough speed to make it invisible as the backside of a gauntlet connected with her cheek. Both feet left the ground, though a moment later her whole body connected with it as she landed hard in the dirt. The wind had been knocked out of her, and she tasted blood in her mouth as she blinked dazedly up at the towering man.<br/><br/>"Don't waste your breath, you ignorant bitch. I know exactly what you did. Felisin Airstrider saw you speaking to Akryanus near the tree-line, and I later saw him speaking to Skyhand, who was hardly subtle about the nature of the visit. The whole thing stunk of Galaia, and Kahz denied just enough for me to be sure he was trying to protect you."<br/><br/>Naiya pushed herself doggedly to her feet, a muscle in her cheek twitching as fear turned into rage - no one had the right to lay hands upon Naiya Flamecloak, Malinar or not. In the blink of an eye both hands were clutching fireballs, though the stare she threw into his face carried more heat than either of the flaming orbs. As her anger grew, so did the heat around her, until she was wreathed entirely in fire - the cloak for which she was named was upon her, but in an instant it was extinguished and the power drained from her body with alarming speed as a large hand closed around her neck. Her feet left the ground and her back was slammed up against a tree trunk. Water leaked from the corners of her eyes as Malinar's grip tightened; his brown eyes blazed with fury, but his face was still and calm, making for a horrific sight as she choked under the strength of his hand.<br/><br/>"Are you going to fight me, Naiya? Will you stand against Malinar, most powerful of the Upper Regions, to defend your new champion, the silver-headed fool who weeps for the damned?"<br/><br/>Her vision blurred and darkened, and the world around her shifted out of focus as she continued to struggle in vain against his grip. He was too powerful - she was like a child, compared to him, and if he wanted to kill her there was nothing she could do about it. She would pay for her betrayal.<br/><br/>Just as she began preparing for the end, thinking sadly of the lives of those on Soluunar who fought even then in her name, the hand around her neck released her and she slid painfully down to the ground, only barely managing to keep from falling.<br/><br/>She looked up, blinking rapidly, as Malinar turned to watch the man who had two broadsword tips at his throat.<br/><br/>"Leave here, Malinar."<br/><br/>The God of Chaos smirked, his features displaying nothing but disdain as he regarded the ancient Demigod.<br/><br/>"Surely you jest, Kahz."<br/><br/>"You wouldn't be the first God I've killed," Master Kahz growled for a reply, his own face a mask of intense dislike. There was no fear in his eyes, but Malinar's demeanor made it clear that he considered the man to be no more threatening than a particularly aggressive wasp.<br/><br/>"A twitch of a finger and I could turn you into a scorch mark on the ground," the Circle God replied, as if there weren't two razor sharp blades a hair's width away from his neck. "Do not make me send you to your beloved, Kahz."<br/><br/>The Demigod only stared, his eyes narrowed, the two swords perfectly still; after some time had passed in silence, Malinar snorted and turned, striding out of the clearing as if Naiya wasn't even standing there. "The old fool was right," he muttered as he disappeared into the trees.<br/><br/>"Anger cannot undo…"<br/><br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: white;background:white;"/></div><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-size: 125%; line-height: 116%;"><div style="text-align: center;">Soluunar</div></span></span><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: white;background:white;"/></div><br/><br/>For Barth, time often slowed down when strategy and patience gave way to blood and steel. Simple movements became calculated, drawn out affairs, and the lives extinguished at the edge of his sword each took a moment to flee from the world, leaving behind their empty vessels as he turned slowly to the next targets. This time was different, however.<br/><br/>The cavalry's charge was like an avalanche, traveling down a horizontal mountain that still lent the horsemen speed akin to a vertical drop as they flew from safety and temporary peace, heading straight towards death and destruction. Cries rose up as they neared their enemies, the Heart Guard's voices ringing out in a language Barth couldn't understand, but in short order all sounds escaped their usefulness to him. The world was plunged underwater, and every voice sounded like it had come from a mile away.<br/><br/>He rode at the very front, and although he could feel others behind and to either side of him he only had eyes for the sea of horns and fanged mouths merely fifty yards away. The crude shapes of savage weapons and primitive armor awaited them, many in number but the cavalry held no fear in their hearts - Barth was silent, his face in a soundless snarl as they reached their enemies, and in that instant he knew that there was not a single one of his men that feared death.<br/><br/>They could not fear death, for that is what they had become.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"Linden!"</span>he shouted as he liberated the first head from the body underneath; there was so much speed to the charge that the next Tutar to fall to him was simply crushed under the hooves of Ausan's horse before Barth even had time to bring the blade back around.<span style="color: #FFFF00">"Come Symas!"</span>he said as the longsword's blade went straight through a throat and cleaved out through the side, liberating itself with little difficulty as he continued to advance towards the massive sinkhole.<span style="color: #FFFF00">"Come friend, and let us lay ruin!" </span><br/><br/>The Tutari horde was crumbling in the face of the cavalry's charge; the Heart Guard was a massive, mailed fist that gave them the kind of edge they needed (if not for their timely arrival there was no telling what would have happened), and the Drorghans' demise had already represented a massive blow to the Ravine's forces. There were more Tutar at the far end of the field, a writhing, living sea of monsters, but as Barth looked skyward he felt a new hope rise within him.<br/><br/>A tornado turned into four, and a bolt of lightning gave way to an ice storm that rained frozen death down upon the Tutari reserves. The demons were trapped between the wrath of the Gods and the oncoming charge of swords and lances, and even as a loud shout rose up among the Allies, a frenzied, collective shriek seemed to come from every Tutar at once. They saw their doom before them.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"End them!"</span>Barth screamed as he passed the sinkhole and slashed at a bestial face, his own likely looking just as ferocious as the one he assailed. But the next swing of his sword was less successful.<br/><br/>The blade became lodged in the collarbone of a gigantic Tutar fighting with the ferocity of a cornered beast; the longsword's hilt was ripped from Barth's grasp, although Symas continued to carry him forward and beyond the monster who'd accidentally disarmed him. The next Tutar lumbered into his path, fangs bared victoriously as it spotted an unarmed target. Compared to many of the Tutar Barth had encountered in his time on the field it looked young. Young and impatient.<br/><br/>The prince reached out, as if attempting to seize his new adversary by the throat; as expected, the Tutar countered with an immediate downward slash of his scimitar, aiming to take Barth's arm off at the elbow. It could have gone for his torso, or for Symas, both of which were essentially unprotected, but instead the young warrior took the bait.<br/><br/>Barth withdrew his arm just in time, and before the Tutar could recover from the missed strike he slammed a hand into its face with a roar, hooking two fingers into its nostrils and yanking upward as the horse continued to urge him forward. The Tutar's feet left the ground for a moment and began skidding backward as it was dragged back, right into the scimitar of the Tutar behind it.<span style="color: #FFFF00"> "End them!"</span>he repeated, even as the tip of the blade bursted out of the young warrior's chest.<span style="color: #FFFF00">"End them all! Send them back to the shadows!" </span><br/><br/>The newly killed Tutar became entangled with several of his fellows as they fell back from the mounted onslaught, but Barth's attention was already fixed on the next scimitar he saw, protruding from a raised section of ground as if destined to be seized by a man in need of a weapon in a pinch. He grabbed it as he passed it, deciding that the crude craftsmanship was good enough for the time being. Plus, he'd never been much for spears. He grimaced at the substance that coated two of his fingers, and wiped it off onto the horse, feeling, impossible as it should've been, a sense of reproach coming from the animal.<span style="color: #FFFF00">"Sorry,"</span>he whispered with a gentle pat on its neck,<span style="color: #FFFF00">"and don't tell Ausan." </span><br/><br/>A quick glance at the field ahead showed him a sight he'd only dreamed would ever come to fruition.   The Heart Guard and the Allied cavalry were doing their work, and although the chargers had suffered losses of their own it was obvious which side had the mastery. The ice storm continued to pummel the Tutar further away, and the entirety of the invading host was beginning to gravitate away from the places of engagement.<br/><br/>They were retreating.