During the Duchess' Speech, 5th Hour of the 15th Day of Summer
Throughout the entire speech, Mynn was listening intently to the Duchess. Her intense focus aimed only at the commandeering lady standing on the wooden stage managed to shut her ears to the cheers and the roars of the crowd. She needed that state of mind so as to better understand the words spoken from the inspiring woman, the reason being that Mynn still did not fully understood every words spoken by the humans. But even though she would not comprehend parts of the words spoken by the Duchess, the elven druid could very much feel the passion behind the voice. And it was that very passion, that determination, that somewhat moved the usually passive-looking masked Elf. Like most of Nature’s gifted in this camp, Mynn wasn’t in search of glory or riches. They were allying with the others for the sake of vengeance and to reclaim the lands that were stolen by the undead.
By the end of the Duchess’ speech, the Wild Elf wasn’t as inspired or burning with passion for this crusade like most of the people part of the crowd, but she definitively felt more determined to reclaim the lost parts of her home, and to destroy the foul abominations that were the origin of this calamity.
6th Hour of the 15th Day of Summer, Greater Cardinal War Camp's stables
It was only about an hour after the Duchess’ speech, everybody were readying themselves for the imminent mobilization of troops to reclaim a port town that was called Nubina. Never Mynn had heard of the place before, but from how others spoke of that city, it seemed very important and dear to some of the people in this camp. Judging from how many individuals that were packing their stuff to move out, it would seem like they would be heading for a big confrontation.
Having nothing much to bring with herself, the bronze-skinned daughter of Nature took little time to ready herself for the upcoming march. Swinging a large backpack onto her broad shoulders and grabbing her quarterstaff, the masked druid left the area where her small tent stood only just a few minutes ago, and began walking around in the camp, joining up with the others.
On her way to meet the officers in charge of the army, Mynn came across the stables. She couldn’t help but notice just how agitated the beasts seemed to be. While most would believe it’s the rain and the thunders making them this way, one who had spent almost their entire life could really feel what the horses felt. It was fear. Although the Duchess effectively raised everyone’s spirits, there was still fear inside of these people, especially when the time to march towards inevitable death was nigh. Animals can smell that fear, and in turn felt that very same fear of death.
There was one particular mare being quite the trouble for the stable workers. This one was of a chestnut colored-hide with a wild-looking black mane and an untamed look in its eyes. It took two full-grown men to try and keep the horse firmly where they stood, lest the mare rearing and trying to knock out her captors.
Seeing such a sad spectacle, Mynn approached the stables, towards the agitated horse acting wildly, despite the protests of the workers. Many looked at the cloaked and masked figure that was making her way into the stables with stupefied eyes, wondering what that person was doing. The horse also looked at the newcomer, eyes locking on the masked woman with defiance and wariness. By now, the horse seemed calmer, but was puffing loudly in disapproval. It was not until the elven druid removed her mask, revealing a calm and soft face, and extended a gentle hand towards the mare than the horse stopped its tantrum.
Bewildered by just how the elven lady managed to calm down the nervous horse in an instant, the stable master walked towards Mynn, who was now softly petting the beast while their head were connected, as if they were both communicating their feelings to each other.
“Y-Ye must be that rumoured Melfician forest witch! With the mask, and bein’ an Elf! ‘Tis an honor to have a livin’ veteran who lived through two wars in ‘tis humble stable.” The burly man said excitedly to the Elf.
Breaking head contact with the horse, Mynn looked towards the stable master with a neutral expression. There was nothing much to say to him other than simply nod in agreement with what the man said, confirming she might be the one he was talking about. There weren’t many Druids left alive to begin with, of elven origins to add. Most had died during the First War, and many others during the Perseverance.
Looking just like he had a flash of genius, the big-looking man took the Elf’s hands and entrusted the now peaceful mare’s reins to her.
“Chelsea’s a good horse, but ever since her old rider died in battle, she lost it, refusin’ to let anybody else ride her. We thought ‘bout putting her out of her misery soon, but ye just seemed to save her life. I don’t think anyone can make use of her, so please, take her with you. Hope she will be helpful to you, lady.” The bald mustached man added.
Mynn nodded calmly once more, delighted deep inside to not only have found a mount for the oncoming march to Nubina, but also to have accidentally saved this tormented animal at the same time. Putting her mask back on her face, and securing her belonging onto the horse’s saddle, the elven druid swung herself atop the horse. Just as she was about the exit the stables with her new companion, one could hear if they listened closely a whisper coming out from behind the druid’s mask.
“Thank…you…”
7th Hour of the 15th Day of Summer, Greater Cardinal War Camp's gates
Assembled with the rest of the army, officers were shouting orders at their troops. For each section of the army, a few men of experience and trust would be leading divisions of the army. Mynn was to be assigned at the middle of the marching group, along with other supportive spellcasters. There, she would be able to make most use of her Nurture talents while being protected on both flanks, and if the situations would allow it, even manage to make use of some of her aggressive abilities.
Moving out according to the battle formation, Mynn joined up with the middle section. When she reached her assigned position, the elven druid was greeted by a group of feral-looking fellows, each wielding different weapons and of various races, but all wearing armors made of fur, hide and leaves. As soon as the Wild Elf had approached, they bowed their head slightly with a fist brought up to their chest.
“You are the White Mask! We are of the Oak Circle, sons and daughters of the woods. I am Ulfric Whitefang, leader of this group. Your feats have reached us, and we have joined this cause to lend you and your allies our help.” The front-most man spoke, wearing an armor made of black fur that had seemed to have belonged to a wolf, judging from his helmet made out of a wolf’s head.
Nodding in approval, Mynn imitated the Wild Men’s greetings, bringing a closed fist to her heart as she bowed her head down. She did not speak a word, but Ulfric knew from rumors that this Druid was not much talkative, although her actions spoke of her passion to defend the wilderness more than words could. He respected her nature, and allowed the Wild Elf to join their ranks silently as each and every man in this company readied themselves to march towards Nubina.
Now with a new companion and allies to fight alongside, Mynn and everybody else were now readier than ever. It was with the shouting orders from the officers ahead and behind of them that the first step towards reclaiming the land started.
8th Hour of the 15th Day of Summer, Road to Nubina
So far, the march had been without troubles, but everyone kept quiet, whether it was from growing anxiousness towards the upcoming encounter with the Undying or to try and hear the undead shambling towards the thirty thousand strong army marching down the road to Nubina. The more time passed, the more everyone could feel their fear returning to themselves. While the Duchess had inspired the lot of them just few hours earlier, it was but until everyone had left the safety of the walls that they realized they might not return alive.
Trotting alongside her new comrades, Mynn also stayed quiet. There was not much going on inside her head, aside from a desire to crush the Undying standing in their way. She also felt anxiousness, who wouldn’t? Even if she had fought two wars against the shambling corpses of undeath, she would never be able to shake off this uneasiness. She knew very well, despite her efforts, that she could end up like most of her now-dead brothers and sisters.
Mynn could clearly remember the first days this plague hit the forest. At first, the undead were few and were quickly dispatched by the brotherhood of druids. But the more time passed. The more the Undying were plaguing the forest. Eventually, the newer members of the Circle died because of their inexperience and weaker powers than the older-members of the druidic circle. Then, a massive wave hit the forest like a sledgehammer hitting a nail. Most of the powerful druids died because of an excess of zeal in trying to defend their home, eventually overwhelmed by the sheer number of the living dead. Only the wisest of the Druids knew that this was a lost cause, and retreated outside of the forest to seek refuge and help from the Melfician civilization. Mynn would have been one of those who would’ve died as an over-zealous fanatic if it wasn’t for one of her former master who grabbed her and forced the Wild Elf to leave the forest.
Those harsh memories were brought upon the auburn-haired Elf as the whole army stopped, now facing a lightly forested hill. Between them and the entrance of the forest stood rows of pikes barring the way, with the impaled Undying writhing as a looming menace on each of those pikes. The pikes were few in numbers compared to the army standing in its way, but it was enough to block the road for horses, not to mention those who would attempt to forcibly go through this field would surely be killed by the undead creatures flailing about on their pikes.
This sight revolted the elven druid. She felt somewhat sick just by looking at the area and the blockade in front of them. It took part of her willpower to not actually feel nauseated from such sight. Never before had she seen such an abomination, a mockery of life. It disgusted Mynn to a point she could only feel more rage and hate boiling inside her.
“Spirits… strong… here. Anger… tormented… sadness. Danger?’ Mynn whispered.
The members of the Oak Circle looked among themselves, before Ulfric looked towards the masked druid whom he pledged friendship with just about an hour or so earlier.
“You have faced the undead before, Lady. What do you think of this?.” The wild leader said, a look of concern upon his face as he tried in vain to read his comrade’s face underneath her mask.
“I… never fought… this. Help kill… corpses. Help moving… spikes… with Magic. Watch.” The masked druid ordered, raising a glowing green hand towards the pikes. While there was not much to be seen, the soil around one pike started loosening its grip around the steel bar that was planted firmly into the ground. Eventually that one pike would fall on its own, with the Undying scout impaled on top of it crashing down from his two-meters perch.
