Anveirial gave a pleased grin of welcome to his brethren, though they wouldn't see it behind that ever-present mask he wore in his human form. But greetings could wait a brief moment longer, he had fighting to handle. A man approached him yet again in the endless stream of men, this one jabbing a spear at him, testing him. Anveirial gave a snort, twisting away from a thrust and gripping the spear's haft as it went past, that massive hammer of his swinging about with enough force to send the man flying to the side, neck shattering audibly. In a completely casual manner he swung the hammer again in a vicious downward arc, burying it in the skull of another approaching man hard enough to send him crumbling to the ground and leave the hammer sticking in his head with its haft in the air. He used the moment of respite between men to toss the stolen spear to his right hand, twirling it around and arcing his back, skipping forward and giving it a mighty heave, sending it soaring in a spiraling path skyward, expertly aimed to slam into the chest of a man so high above, mounted on a gryphon. Blood sprayed from his now impaled chest, raining down on those below as he was flung from the saddle, falling to land unfortunately on the spines of a passing dragon, dead before he even made impact.
It was only now that Anveirial, or Varian as he used in this form and this age, turned to face the gathering of his kin, ripping his hammer from its recent corpse-sheath as he strode towards them and giving it a backhanded swing to a passing elf without even breaking stride, sending them flying a good thirty feet in the other direction. Showoff... But, he rose his hand in greeting to his kin, voice flowing physically and mentally to them, through images and thoughts as well as words.
"It's been to long!"
He gave a long look to those gathered, brows furrowing behind his mask.
"This isn't all of us, but it will do for now. See that?"
His hammer was raised, pointing down the great river to where the forms of great war-ships were coming into being, slowly approaching on the current.
"I'll be needing a hand turning them to splinters floating in the water! And so help me, if I catch another dwarf hitting someone with his ale mug, I need you to turn him to ash old friend, it's a waste of good brew!"
He inclined his head to the silver dragon as he spoke, laughing. He was getting to much of a kick out of this, really. It wasn't that he enjoyed war, like some of his kin, it was just that he seemed to have trouble taking anything seriously these days. It was all so... silly. Humans waged war, snuffing out the light of their already brief lives needlessly and of their own will. He found it amusing in a grim sort of way, and thus looked at it with a chuckle and smacked them about with hammer and sword. For now however, silly thoughts could wait. War ships could rain hell on a battlefield like this one, and that would cause to much trouble for Anvierial to face with a straight face.
Even as the thought crossed his mind, the haunting echo of deep horns echoed across the battlefield, coming from those very ships. The horns of war, menacing in their sound as they cut through the sounds of war, sounding even above the jarring beat of a giants war drums. Many paused in their individual clashes to look. Some, already losing hope, fell to their knees at the sight as the ships came further into focus, massive affairs of shining goldenwood, nearly as tough as iron yet as light and mobile as the swiftest of viking ships, able to turn almost in their own length... and there were six of them, each bearing enough man and firepower to level half the battlefield. Gleaming silver sails and flags fluttered on their masts, the silver field and crossed blades of mercenaries showing on the flags. Yet another addition to this war that was turning to a free for all, the confusion of such mass havoc forcing men to lose sense of friend and foe.
Anvierial only grinned and looked to his kin.