>>6015818>>6016057>>6016065>>6016188I believe I'll take the other Motl with to site-search and continue the current queue, given the tie and preexisting precedent.
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The month passes with little fanfare. The Avvim continue to recover from their fay festivities, and production is still stymied. Scout reports are near-exactly the same as the last, albeit regarding Shadow Glade instead of Dragon Ridge.
A messenger arrives at the gates, ethereal-blue and seemingly uncaring of the fact it hovers a few steps above the ground. "Euphorbos of Therodos, Commander and Prophet of Ygh'yha, King of Ashes, God of the Rock, God of Astral Fires, Brilliant One in the Sky sends his most cordial greetings."
A runner arrives at the council, breathless and bearing news of the battle...
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The battle is about to be met. Mamre the commander gets along with <span class="mu-i">this</span> Motl perhaps less than he did, as the shaman and healer hang back to watch the fight. He'll need to rectify that, should cavalry be brought to a future battle, he thinks.
In any case, he watches, bored as the Rephaim tear the charging wolf-warriors to pieces, cleaving them asunder with one hand and bringing them to their teeth with the other. Not a single Rephaim takes a wound of note; what would be a greivous, mortal wound to a mere man or even to an Avvim is but a scratch to them. The wolf shaman's poison darts sting, but even the deadliest of poisons would be hard-pressed to fell a Rephaite warrior, much less one so enlarged by their Grandfather's blessing.
The Avvim warriors come forth, now that the Rephaite have had their fun. They do little but occupy the enemy archers, although this more speaks to the sheer brutality and might of the Rephaim, and not the ill-skill of the Avvim.
It is a crushing slaughter. Some are ill from the envenomed darts the enemy shaman cast upon them, but it clears quickly enough.
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