By Deeper Paths
Thirtieth Day of the Fourth Month 294 AC
War was not a new thing to the Old Gods in their dreams of power. They had fought wars ere the first man had set foot upon the western shores, when the land itself flowed like water to the will of the elder fey and what was mountain one day could be plain or rolling hill the next, when the woods covered all the lands in a cloak of green and pale tendrils embraced all, but never had they fought like this.
Dead flesh stitched together in the semblance of a Kraken and animated by hate snaked through tunnels to crush the will from interlopers and shore up tunnels for the advance that came after it. 'Warriors in black' armed and armored in the way of Andal knights marched after, laying about them with blades of steel. Had the ones within still known mirth, they would have laughed with voices wheezing through neverborn throats. As it was, they tasted the irony like bitter wine that might still intoxicate the soul and flesh, so did the Voices of the Lost wear the skin of their foes. They moved with subtle tread and with crashing wave, they moved with the creak of enchanted steel and with the blasts of alchemical munitions kindling the air their foes needed to breathe.
The Hive moved against them. In halls prepared for the battle, filled with traps arcane and mundane, those who had long since survived the onslaught of the grinding earth moved to keep their foothold in the wold of form. Warriors without end threw themselves in the path of the advance and pitiless taskmasters drove them on. Unlike the mortal inhabitants of Casterly Rock above, the Hive knew what it would face. They had watched through the eyes of men who sought the turning and twisting of flesh, and they had learned how to turn enchantment to
galvanize dead flesh.
Cold is Hand and Heart and Bone, Cold is Darkness Under Stone.
The songs were mighty, the songs were subtle, but they could only turn the least of the dead from their tasks and not for long before they were broken or the singer silenced evermore. Then the
blight singers came, those who had gained dominion over the strange fungi of the deep places, their carapaces streaked with pulsing luminous tendrils. Men would have called them priests of nature, those who hold sacred the ways of growing things, but they were not beholden to the power they wielded. They were deaf to the screams of life, however, and attentive only to the call of the Hive, of the Queen which they carried to their foes as a warrior might bring a lit torch to bone dry kindling.
All Shall Serve, All Shall Be One
They targeted the shadow cats first, for they could seek even through the shadows of their conjuring in this place.
The hive was mighty, the Hive was one, and it would triumph. So they whispered and for many dreamers so it was, the dawnblooms turning their magic against their erstwhile unliving allies, even a necro-kraken momentarily turned from its path to work ruin among its allies.
Alas for them that it was not only the servants of the Old Gods who chewed under the stone and through the dark. There was another, the Seeker of Knowledge, the Mind Shaper, one who had walked without fear into realms where gods feared to tread, one who had set his arts against eternity and his mind against the madness of the outer realms. Wise was he in a manner few others could claim, and many were his tools.
In the end the defense of the hive failed, gasping for air in tunnels where it had all been consumed by greedy flames, it failed to account for creatures of unfeeling steel and alchemical concoctions. It had assumed that the Ones Above would aid it with their artifice against such foes, but no aid came.
Qyburn smiled as he withdrew his tendrils from the head of a dead taskmaster, as much as his ever shifting face could be said to do so. Who knew that the Lords of Westeros, who had cursed the name of Tywin Lannister for an opportunist and a poor ally to count upon, would find themselves in such
fascinating company?
Result: Formian presence neutralized, Queen withdrawn to the Plane of Earth before the advance could capture her. Forces have taken middling damage, but still combat ready.
What next?
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OOC: So yeah the Formians were actually prepared for flesh forged creatures for once, what they were not prepared for was having to fight fire and constructs with no help from the Lannisters because this was just one prong of the attack. Not yet edited.