Alchimia Rex

The Elementalist stood upon her tower, one shaped like a tiny dish balancing atop a candle. Above her the blue sky, and not a shred of anything else in any direction. The tower was taller than the tree-tops, and when standing upon the top, the brim was just high enough to hide them from sight entirely. The air shimmered and shook, power coalescing and condensing, taking form into a perfect olive green orb that compressed further and further. With every passing second, the orb shrunk, screaming out as the powers contained within lashed and struggled to break free.

Surrounding this Elementalist were twelve Witches and four Sorceresses, each and every one channeling power into spells of their own. Their magics were not meant to empower the orb, but rather to assist its guidance. Some would be assisting in calculating the trajectory, others would be ensuring that the air would not disturb its path, there were even those that were reinforcing the tower so as to guarantee the kick-back would not harm the structure or them.

In a way, they were akin to a small hive, each of them carrying out a small but crucial task for the whole. A choreographed dance that they’d drilled into their very souls for years.

THUMP

With a burst of air, the orb raced away like a shooting star. The Elementalist’s gaze traveled alongside her spell, watching the world shrink underneath as it increased altitude. Up and up, further and further, until even the tallest trees were nothing but needles underneath. It was then that the ascension came to a stop, and the descent began.

Closer and closer, faster and faster, it dashed so fast the deadlands were nothing but a blur of brown, grays, and greens. Headed straight towards a behemoth of wood. The forest groaned and cried out as the elemental energies contained within the orb began to spin wildly, thin lines of power lashing out, shredding through the foliage. The herboral monster could no more stand in its path than grass could stop locus. The spell chewed its way through, consuming its power and leaving behind a hole that… had not made it all the way through.

The Elementalist frowned ever so slightly at this, realizing as she observed the damage that her opponent had altered the nature of her protection since the last attack. Where before it’d been a mass of solid wood, now it’d been mostly foliage and padding. “Confirmed hit. But no confirmed casualties.” She declared to her master and handler, the man standing within a protective circle that kept the elemental energies from burning through his very flesh. “Changing to piercing explosive spell.”

Casters all around her reacted, focusing their effort into the newer variety of projectile, altering calculations as the Elementalist prepared the next spell. Rather than a sphere, she shaped it as a bee’s stinger. Its sharp hollow tip was made to allow for the explosive payload to be delivered the moment the final layer of protection was punched through. Bit by bit, tighter and tighter, she began to fill in the more volatile contents.

Then, there was a sharp sting upon her shoulder, and the world abruptly shook, followed by a numbing sensation that spread through her body.

The Elementalist heard a shriek, and looked down, finding eight spears embedded onto her chest from different directions. Her mind, failing to grasp the situation, only barely managed to issue one final command, a concern for the safety of her-

THUNK

The final arrow pierced through her skull, her spell launched skyward in what was, perhaps, one final shred of defiance. The artillery strike exploded high above with a thunderous crash, while the maidens underneath hurried to protect the human that had never been the target.

They never needed to worry, for once the rain of spell-piercing arrows had cleared, he was the sole survivor.

Twelve Golden Elves observed silently, practically invisible from within the foliage. Their target had been one unprepared for the threat they’d presented. So many spells, enchantments, and alarms, propped up to detect even the faintest whiff of ferals, wildlings, or Vampires. Some of them wished all of their missions would be against equally unprepared foes. Others had the signs of itching for an actual challenge of their skills. Regardless, one and all obeyed, as they’d been taught, as they’d been trained.

Once certain there were servants in the tower, they retreated, melting into the foliage of the deadlands as if they’d never been there to begin with.

Their orders had been clear: The human was to survive, for the Kingdom needed to learn what happened to any that dared attack the Green…

Camilla.

Queen Camilla.

There were many things about the Watcher that made her unique to the deadlands. Where a Witch and a Sorceress sought to master a particular elemental energy, an Elementalist partook in that power, becoming something greater than what mere flesh and blood could contain. In this way, Elementalists were akin to moonlight, ever radiating a soft if pervasive power upon the world around them.

The Watcher’s “touch” as it came to be known amongst the clans, was one they could feel in their bones. The power of the Elementalist was one that corroded away the shadows, a touch of putrefaction and rebirth, of the small things that turned the dead into nutrients for all other things to eat. In this way, the Elementalist who’d Watched over the deadlands over the past forty years had been a part of its ecosystem as much as the very trees.

In this way, the Elementalist’s death would be undoubtedly felt throughout the deadlands. How soon it would be noticed varied. To some, it would take months or even years, only realizing something had changed when the swamp would begin to shift into something else, something greener. To others, it was instantaneous, realizing the Tyrant of the deadlands had perished even before her final attack had detonated high overhead like a pang of thunder.

There were three people who noticed the monumental shift.

The first was Throag.

The Sabertooth had felt it in her very bones, that the apex predator whose territory they were trespassing had been dethroned. The feline’s immediate reaction was to stiffen and wait a few seconds, savoring the moment, a tension upon her tail she’d not known she had finally loosening up. Immediately, her mind turned towards informing the clan of this great news, and to issue forth everyone to move.

The second was the clan’s Mother.

The stink-cursed maiden froze as her shadows trembled, realization preceding suspicion and concern. Instincts honed by decades in the deadlands spoke of ignoring the great boon. For when a territorial creature died, it could only ever mean that something else had gotten to it. Something potentially worse.

The third was Rick.

The human had felt it rippling in the air, the tingling against his skin lessening to a noticeable degree. Joining this sensation were those of tiny little shifts through his bonds, a faint taste of… danger. His brows furrowed as he looked around at the rest of the clan and prisoners, none having even twitched in response. The feeling coming from his bonds had grown closer and louder, and now he knew he could not wait any longer.

It was time.

Something had happened, several explosions in the distance, the sort that would shake the earth and scare everything and everyone to duck and cover. The clan was no stranger to the Watcher imposing her will upon the deadlands, but that the Elementalist had launched an attack could only mean that something was going on. Had they been discovered? Were they under threat of annihilation?

Their only answer was to do as they’d learned in dealing with the Watcher: spread out.

It was the only real solution, only two of their members were skilled enough in hiding from the Watcher’s gaze. And both of them were out, preparing for their traversal through the truly dangerous stretches of land where the Watcher was at her most powerful.

Devoid of a commanding voice, they defaulted into tried and true tactics. The clan had been split up already for the purpose of safety, but now, with the Watcher taking action for some unknown reason, they split further. Each Tigress headed out with a tiny piece of the bounty, a human here, some food there, a few trinkets. Enough that any loss would not prove a fatal blow to the clan. This was not to say they were doing so as some actual form of goodness or communal understanding. They each understood that, much like a Tigress could not kill every ant in a colony, so too the Watcher would find her work far harder to achieve with so many individual targets.

It was in this way that Brakka had taken Throag’s precious little human alongside four others and marched them through the swamp until she found a good hiding spot. But something felt wrong as they trudged through the marsh, the ferals were being too loud. Though they weren’t close enough to sense anything specific, Brakka could pick up on the aggression in the air, the blood and death.

Had the Watcher triggered a feral rush?

“So those explosions… something to do with your clan’s plan?” The prize-human asked, brows furrowed. “Someone fighting something else out there?”

“Shut up,” Brakka replied harshly, ears rotating this way and then that, trying to pick up on anything that might be seeking food near them. Realizing something was indeed moving closer, she pointed the captives towards the thick roots of a tree. “Hide there.” She declared, though snatched Throag’s prize and yanked him away from the others. “Not you, you go there.” She pointed to a different tree, further away.

Brakka was not stupid enough to consider sacrificing Throag’s prize for the sake of avoiding a troublesome fight. Not when Mother herself had spoken on the importance of that one bothersome strange human. So if it came down to it, she’d have an easier time escaping with him in tow than the others.

The sounds were getting closer.

Brakka could pick out running, shuffling, and blood. There were other noises mixed in, but they were coming from all over, approaching from all directions. It was too organized, had some small group of wildlings chased them down? But it didn’t explain how the deadlands had lit up with activity.

“You’re nervous.”

The man’s voice snapped her into looking his way. “Shut up.”

“You know, I made a promise not to bond with anyone who’s threatened my life.” His voice was soft, calm. “Brakka, that’s your name, right? You’ve been rude, and a smidge cruel, but that’s about it.” The human curled his lips.

Something loud crashed through the treetops, a Neigix screeching as she swooped down in search of prey. Brakka reacted, pouncing into action. She melded into the shadows and reappeared overhead, falling atop the unsuspecting feral, quickly dispatching the threat before it could react.

Her attention snapped at the sound of footfalls, and she saw her captive making a run for it. She snarled, realizing something was indeed wrong as she bolted in pursuit. She did not need to jump into the shadows to catch up, spotting him as he struggled his way on the uneven terrain. “Where do you think you’re going?” She demanded, rushing to reach him.

“Shit.” He whispered under his breath, turning around to meet her gaze and lunge at her.

Brakka had not expected that, prey did not just jump at her, not without being cornered first. Especially not prey as weak as a human. She just froze, allowing him to come closer, half-expecting an attack, yet that too did not happen, for he’d just hugged her.

“What are you doing?” She shoved him away, feeling a sharp tug in her neck.

In his hand was her bond-collar. Brakka touched her throat, blinking in slight surprise, barely registering the last vestiges of her bond vanishing. With a frown, her arm lashed out, smacking him with a backhand that sent him careening into the mud.

“Oh.” He groaned, fighting for breath and coughing. “You should not have done that.”

The sounds were gone.

The Tigress’ hackles raised as she noticed at least a dozen figures approaching slowly. Bloodied mouths and claws snarling, ferals one and all, yet each of them a different species, each of them standing side by side as they encircled the two of them. The Tigress lowered her stance, claws out, growling.

“You have two options.” The man slowly stood up, stepping away from her and towards the approaching encirclement of feral maidens. “One of them is to run for it. You should do that.”

“Are you insane?” She hissed at him. Brakka would’ve considered saving him if he’d run towards her, but he was closer to the ferals now. “They’re going to tear you apart.”

One more step back and away from her, not turning to face the ferals as he reached out and gently patted the head of the nearest one. The maiden’s growl faltered, leaning into his touch and nuzzling into his palm. “I don’t think they will. You, on the other hand…”

There was a sound from overhead. Brakka barely reacted in time to lunge away from the Salalexis, narrowly avoiding the reptilian’s tail as it lashed out at her midsection. Four of the ferals jumped at her, claws cutting through air right as she vanished into the shadows. Had she been any slower, they would’ve piled up on her.

“Tell Throag I said hi!” The man waved as she ran.

The Tigress briefly considered giving pursuit, but noticed more ferals were moving into the area, searching for her.

“Fuck this.” With a hiss, she ran.

Rick let out a sigh of relief as soon as he was certain the Tigress was gone.

“Who’s a cute little murder lizard? Yes you are.” He patted the lizard-girl’s head as he made his way back towards the other prisoners. The reptile-girl whose tail made up half her body-mass chirped and cooed, bond flashing brightly with satisfaction.

The other former-ferals gathered, seeking equal amounts of attention. Rick quickly sent out waves of comfort followed by as strong a notion of “follow me and keep your eyes out” as he could. Some responded well, trailing behind him not unlike ducklings. Others just chittered and kept their distance.

Keeping them all reigned in and focused on the things he wanted them to focus was like trying to pay attention at five different screens. He’d need to send most of them away to just “do their thing” and potentially cause chaos, because the moment he slipped, he was certain several of them would be trying to eat or kill one another.

Probably both.