To Vipress, the explosion didn't even register. She had been winding her way through the smoke, Rask before her and his frostbitten knights beyond, their swords rippling toward the gate or after the fleeing mortals. Then, the world vibrated so much that her matter began to diffuse even before the shrapnel struck. It tore through her, leaving ragged holes that spewed great plumes of starlit dust from the exit wounds. She knew pain then, the true sense of pain that separated this material world from her own. It was a fire that burned from every wound, filling her fragile form until her entire essence felt as if it were falling backward into unnatural decay.
She might have lost her immortal self to the cruel material forces, had the voice not reached her. Immediately, she knew it like a long awaited kiss. Xem'zund was everywhere. But, more importantly, within her. He had grown so strong. She felt the ground tremble under the push of his forces and his own power. It was as close to perfection as any one on this miserable rock could attain, and she felt, for the first time, what affect it had on the mortals. Though she was not the target, she felt the weight levied upon them, the binding agreement between will, time, and fate that they would all be destroyed. It was fear, and it was haste. If she did not act soon, the tide would wash over her and render her nothing. Or, worse, just another subordinate in his army. She had to use her own power now, despite the lack of payment the shadow had demanded.
As awed as a newborn, Vipress opened her eyes. She saw the wreckage of the elven bridge and the newly crafted replacements. Rask stood where the old bridge had ended, howling over the bodies of his brethren. They burned and crackled while their swords lay dormant, and the ancient elves from the other bank filed over the bridge to take their place emotionlessly.
The river swelled with an incoherent mess of rubble and bodies that had once been upon the bridge while the dark serpent shapes churned beneath, fighting the river's strengthened current because it could not froth over the earthen bridges. The living within the river had already been consumed, but Vipress saw the traces of life that animated the undead. Insufficient but priceless. She pushed her cloudy, rematerializing form to the bank between two bridges and sent a command into the water. Forcefully, the savage frothing began anew. Stone, earth, or undead, her serpents consumed it all. Then, each other, until all that remained was the lone mother as swollen as a creation god. Her form towered upward, heavy and broken and screaming until she arched her neck forward to spill the contents of her stomach upon the scarred ground. Wretching sickly, she collapsed upon the decaying pile.
~
The ship's sails went limp, its crew lapsing into stillness. At the bow, the cloaked shadow stood with cowl directed at the capital. "The other side has paid its toll. Now, so shall we." The zombies waited uncaringly.
The shadow's arms lifted its rotting hands up, only to let them fall from the sleeves like litter. Then, the cloak openned. Within it was nothing but the blackest pitch, a color beyond night or darkness. It was death, and it spread as hungrily as death does. If hearts still beat among them, they would only have done so thrice before the ship was encased, the rigging and hull torn, the zombies' bodies consumed completely. Alone, the shadow and his cargo remained, only to disappear from the frantic waves.
~
The flesh, the rubble, and the serpent's head atop it all burst into flame instantaneously. A putrid, black fire that billowed forth a heavy cloud of smoke. From that tight, rolling mass, the salvaged creatures of legend emerged. First came the harpies. Not the tempting figures of bar room boasting, though, nor the mocking gatekeepers of campfire tales. These harpies were the wretched kind, wasted bodies of men stretched and crushed into the skins of vultures and bats. They were hideous and disproportionate, yet they flew with an uneven grace unmatched by living beings. A whole storm of them, over a thousand strong, swelled from the organic bonfire to blot the sky and cast the land into a shifting haze of pre-dusk red.
When the tide finally slowed, another beast emerged from the fire and turned the most child-like of myths into nightmares. It was a unicorn, white coat souled with decay and elegant horn twisted with rot. Its eyes burned and dripped angry, bloody tears. The anger, mostly likely, was for the figure on its back, the remains of the man that had bridled it into mortality and then ridden it unto death. The man did not celebrate, though, for he was a nothing more than a legless growth from the beast's spine, his skin-smooth head bowed and broken arms holding the reins as if posed. Even in death, man could not beat the unicorn.
Suddenly, the fire sputtered and died. The smoke shrank also, part of it condensing into a cloak that enshrouded what remained. Fair elven hands, miraculously untouched by the flame, hovered from the ashes and embedded themselves in the sleeves. The shadow moved forward, flexing and appraising its new hands, and stopped before Vipress' misty, pitted form. "You did not pay in full. The rest are trapped within, waiting," it said, the words dangerous, the tone uncaring.
Vipress smiled despite the pain of her body coming back together. The unicorn cantered to her side and stopped, as calm and docile as if it had finally found a proper master. "Then you'll have to collect them," she said teasily as she pointed to the fleeing mortals. Without waiting for an answer, she climbed astride the unicorn, held tight to its decorative rider, and rode after the ancient elves and their enraged leader.
Out of Character:
30 ancient elves - Led by Rask and charging near the front of the undead army. They will disrupt their enemies with wind blasts before attacking.
1 undead unicorn - carrying Vipress a short distance behind
1 cloaked shadow - moving along farther behind
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