Part II of the epic battle!

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And then there's a second wave almost immediately after the first. Your men, well lead as they are, are only men and your position is rapidly becoming untenable -- the barricades are going swarmed with the bodies of the fallen and the there, just beyond those trees...

 

No... those *are* the trees. And they're moving.

 

A host of great tree creatures, stomping towrads your lines. Treants. 

 

At least twenty or thirty of them.

 

On their way, their dwark and twisted forms, leaves dripping with blood.

 

Rawsone holds her ground, letting the archers pick their own targets and battles--until the treants appear. "Zak!" she screams, pointing with her arrows as arrow after arrow flies across the space and...probably doesn't do much of anything. Stupid, stupid damage reduction.

Karelin bellows. "Hold the line! Push the bodies back off the lip!" He moves up and down the line now, even if its not the best... well, he tries.

 

"I see 'em," Zak calls out. It's hard not to. "Everyone, on my mark, prepare to fall back to the next barricade! We'll hold them there, and wear them down in the meantime! Rawsone, if any of yours can manage fire arrows or something, how's the time! Any sort of breakfire to slow them down!"

 

"We've fought these before! They're just trees in need of burning! Those of you with axes, hold onto them--there's wood to chop, but not yet!" bellowed, Darshan waves frantically at the hobgoblins as the order comes to hold back. "Hold, hold! And hold!" horses, men snort--first fire, now trees and black blood. They shift, move about.

 

Karelin looks up, finally, and his face falls a little. He nods to something unseen, then squares his shoulders. "Everyone! Get ready to move to the next fallback. You!" To one of his captains. "You go first." Then the other. "You next! I'll cover your backs!" A glance at Zak. "But not yet!"

 

"Pull back, join the others.." Chandra commands upon seeing the Treants. She waits until she's sure everyone she brought out there is moving, "Join Karelin and Zak.."

 

The archers retreat in a none-too-orderly fashion, spurred along by the fact that their leader is nearly tripping over herself to get out of there. A few of the braver ones hold arrows to the fires that haven't been put out yet and send them toward the treants, but...their aim is not particularly great.

 

You know.

 

There's a downside to going to the battleground and fighting things that were once dead. Why, that problem is that you're going to wind up fighting things you've already fought. And in this case, it's treants. Rawsone will definitely recognize at least a few of them, somehow. Creatures she's killed, corrupted and twisted and brought into the spirit real to do He Who Hungers' bidding. Still worse is the fact that one particular treant, a giant one, whose acidic sap touches the ground and sizzles it, has launched itself forward, landing admist our men with a savage twist and snap of two spines as it grabs hold of two men with its 'hands' or 'branches', whichever you prefer.

 

It seems satisfied with the cracking sounds.

 

"Zak!" Rawsone yells it again, backing up as she shoots the big treant over and over and over...to little effect.

 

"Fall back!" Zak shouts to the troops. "Hold them at the next line! We'll buy you some time!" Consider the word given. And then? He runs right at the big acidic treant. Apparently he is a slow learner.

 

Karelin nods to his captains. "Go! Now! I'll meet you back at the line." Optimist. Then he turns, and goes hurtling into the fray after Zak, black warblade biting hard into one thigh of the treant!

 

The various other treants, and there are several, all get busy chasing after the lines of retreating men, trying to stop them, stomp them, trample them. It's all the men can do to get out from under branch. Or foot. Or branch. Or whatever you want to call it.

 

In any case, the giant one pauses as Zak and Karelin charge it, then launches a massive, wooden fist at the latter, knocking him solidly straight in the chest. It's a ringing remember of what you just went through a short time ago.

 

"This time, your blood will feed my roots!"

 

"Get your axes ready! And if you don't have one, a sword'll do just as well! Hit them hard, and drive them into the infantry's pikes!" the sith shakes his head, wondering, momentarily as he asks Daeus' brief favor. A protective coating settles alongside him and his mount, and when the blades go down...the calvary charges to either side of the fray.

 

The treants keep it up! They're doing as much damage as they can while you, the lot of you, seem to be busy with the treant. The cavalry is helping, though, and while most of them aren't quite prepared to be fighting this sort of thing, they're managing a passable job. There's one downside to a treabnt: They're *slow*. Cavalry isn't.

 

Chandrakanta dives directly into a fight with one of the treants, just not -that one-. She goes into blender mode, her first strike misses, but her next two are well placed. The treant taking a strike from her dagger and the frost rapier.

 

Rawsone's archers have long since fled back to the first barricade, except for a few who are still trying to ignite the treants. "Hurry up and kill it!" she yells, running forward to place a hand against Karelin's shoulder as she finds herself more or less surrounded by treants. "Gilead, heal him so he can kill it," she prays.

 

Karelin twists from the blow, taking Rawsone's healing in strike. He hits hard, very hard, laying open the lower trunk -- he strikes once from the right, then twists his wrists savagely, and strikes from the other side almost immediately!

 

Its good Chandra is too busy to notice Karelin being pumpled, she would have a fit, instead she just rips into the treant. Her blades cut through them like ribbons, the cool blade leaving frost behind and the dagger does something special to the treant.

 

It feels good? It feels great, the rush across the battlefield. Horses claw the earth, and the swiftclaw follows, straight for the treant. Daeus' blessing means the sword cuts deep, and Darshan does exactly what he'd said--he treats it like an axe. "Damnit...Baira's going to have me chopping firewood..."

 

So.

 

Promptly, with everyone gathered around it, the thing takes a swing from karelin and Zak each and then *bursts* through them and past the other side, trampling oevr some additional fleeing men as well.

 

"Hahaha," it roars, impaling two of them on its roots and draining the blood from their bodies, causing them to gruesomely shrivel.

 

And it appears to heal it.

 

The treants are just... *continuing* their own business, but they're starting to falter under the attacks of Darshan's cavalry. Flame too is being employed against them quite succesfully.

 

At least it isn't flaming poo.

 

Rawsone screams, and completely freezes as the thing tramples her. Sad thing is, she'll probably be -more- stable once He Who Hungers arrives. "Kill it already!" she screams at Zak and Karelin. "KILL THEM!"

 

Karelin stands in as the treant charges, hitting it again, before turning and racing after it, swinging hard into it!

 

Rawsone also heals Karelin a little more. Really. Her player is tired.

 

The Veyshanti is relentless, having avoid the trample she moves and strike. Averium guides her blade and it leave that telltale line of frost in the wound.

 

"..hrrugh. He Who Hungers will feast on your bones -- and Garm upon your souls!" The Treant seems furious -- bleeding acid on everyone in pointlessly large amounts given Darshan's already protected all of you from the worst of the sticky saps sticky acidciness.

 

Two more feelbe strikes follow.

 

In the meantime, though, you find that the treants are being battled back, returning to the side of the larger one -- or starting to, anyways.

 

Zak, of course, is holding his end of the bargain up by hacking at the thing a lot. "DIE," he shouts. A lot.

 

"Zak, please, we have to get out of here." When yelling doesn't work, Rawsone tries pleading, moving over to her husband's side and laying a hand on his arm. "Gilead, close his wounds." This time, her head is bowed.

 

And again. Swords aren't axes, but the sith's does an impression of one. It hews into the rotted hide and out again, bringing out sap, gum, tainted black. Srassha does her best to dance around the roots, the hide--nimble, reptilian toes try not to say 'ouch!' too much. :(

 

"Kor! KOR!" Karelin calls out twice, as he spins past the strikes, using the speed of the charge to guide his strikes. He yells again, and there's one good guesss as to what he yells. His strikes are -brutal-, chopping through the treant in four precise blows, causing the lower half to more or less disintegrate entiirely!

As the treant falls, so do the other treants that were attacking and killing as many people as possible. And that's when you hear it -- behind you, the marching of what sounds to be a truly massive army behind you, scrabbling their way up -- a cacophany of voices and boots and sounds of combat and the screams of the 'dying' as they're struck down once more, those already fallen being put out of their misery by the advancing hordes. Howls -- lupine howls -- sound behind you and a huge number of other animal sounds.

 

"Come on," Suvdellion yells, "This way! Fast! Before they catch us," and he moves quickly to show you the way up the side, taking a shortcut that lesser men would find harder to follow.

 

"Thank the gods." Rawsone visibly relaxes for a moment, but tenses once again when she hears the sounds of the next wave. "Gods," she murmurs, holding a bruised rib as she climbs after the elf in charge.

 

Karelin turns, riding the crest of his battle lust, and scrambles after the elf!

 

Chandrakanta looks around as the other treants stop moving. She starts counting. Making sure everyone is still alive. She actually smiles when she seeks Karelin now rushing up after Suvdellion. And then follow, "Not without me you aren't.." She yells at the Korite.

 

And that's--it. For now, for a momentary space, there's a brief feeling that--that's it. Darshan half-turns, raising a sword dripping with the guts of...well, alright, it's sap. "Axes high!" he roars, and a crooked half-grin follows it. Srassha paces over the body of the treant, towards the rest of the riders. To shake the hands of the hobs, of the other chargers. His hand's out towards one when that happens. When the atmosphere changes. A shadow of sound falls across them and the battlefield. And, well... "Move! Move out and regroup around Nacknur!" He stares after them a while, making sure, at least, the order goes around--and then follows after the elf.

 

Up you go, scrambling over branches and leaves, getting pricked by thorns and more. The grounds close up behind you, sealing the way and leaving the enemy only one path to go without cutting through the forest... something they're going to have to do anyways. Something they probably *are* doing if the smell of woodsmoke that hits your nose from time to time is any indication. Occasionally, you all hear another 'thoom' as flaming boulders get tossed overhead once more by the siege engines that linger behind the front lines.

 

"..we're going to have to do something about those, you know," he pauses, glancing at the others, ".. I've put my second in command in charge for the next barricade. How about we go take care of some siege engines, eh?" He's grinning now.

 

No doubt Zak will like the plan also.

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And here...I screwed up, and didn't start logging until the last part of the scene was finished.  As a result, I only have the last bit of the final part of the battle.  If anyone could add the stuff I missed, I would greatly appreciate it.  

 

In the missing part, the adventurers manage to take out some of the seige weapons and end up fighting another round of familiar faces before finally coming face-to-face with He Who Hungers and a number of elite werewolves.  The log joins the battle near the end of the conflict with He Who Hungers...

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Karelin continues to press forwards, bloodied and bruised. Probably broken inside, too, from the way he's swinging his sword. He keeps killing, though, knocking down wolves on his way to the giant.

 

Zak continues to hack and slice at He Who Hungers, actually scoring a decent hit once. His allies continue their assault as well. "AVAUNT!"

 

"Stop saying Avaunt!"

 

"It is a good battle cry. I claim it in Kor's name!"

 

"Not as good at the bargains at Fan-"

 

"SHUT UP!"

 

The assassins seem to be getting up close and personal with the wolves. More of the soldiers fall. No longer distracted by Karelin, Chandra is able to put down some herself.

 

"Out of my way, fly," roars He Who Hungers, smashing Zak across the chest with his mace, lifting the Highborn up with the smack and sending him flying through the forest and into a tree where he smashes through it, leaving it in a tangle of branches. The mace thunders when he does it, delivering a crack of power so loud that it leaves everyone's ears ringing and Karelin deafened all together. He pushes forward, then, moving ever closer the swirling portal.

 

"ZAK!" Rawsone gives He Who Hungers a baleful look, but Karelin is still white as a sheet--and a few seconds isn't going to make much of a difference. "Heal him!" she pleads to Gilead, reading from a scroll--that's literally the only thing written on it. She must have made it. "May Garm torture you for an eternity for your failure!" Rawsone spits at the huge giant. Let's hope her words are prophetic.

 

Karelin steps up his troops by his actions along, since he can't really -tell- them anything. THey get in the way, though, and that's enough for now.

 

And...move. The horse moves in around He Who Hungers' ankles, biting, snapping at the skins and bones. Most of them don't connect, horses' ears flattened in shock from the ringing earlier, the sound of a regiment of men and women slamming into the treeline, but a few do, darnit.

 

"Fly, am I?" Zak roars, bursting forth from the tree and stabbing at He Who Hungers, delivering a grievous blow. "WELL THIS FLY STINGS!"

 

"Actually, sir, erm, I think flies bite. I MEAN AVAUNT, BY KOR!"

 

Chandrakanta finally steps up and goes after he who hungers. Her blades are guided. She shouts for "Averium!" As the second blade digs into the giants flesh, "Feel his fire."

 

"...nnggh. You will not stop me -- not when I am so close to my goals." The mace seems to be glowing still more heavily as he draws nearer to the portal and he smashes his way through Zak's men, swatting at Karelin's and trying to deal with them while they're all over him -- but the pain is presetnly being delivered by Chandrakanta and Zak and, yes, Darshan's blasted moving cavalry. Their units are routed and broken, leaving the two of them more ro less alone with the few men that remain with them.

 

"Your bodies will feed my new armies!"

 

"Thank the gods," Rawsone says as Zak appears. Wincing as the mace comes down on Chandra, Rawsone flies forward and puts her hands on the other woman. No, not like *that*. "Get back and heal yourself! Gilead, heal her!" she calls. Her men, devoid of leadership at the moment, do more or less nothing.

 

Karelin can't hear the crunch of bone around him, or the screams of the dying. He stands tall, though, driving his sword into knee joints, driving it across cut flesh. He doesn't yell, mind you.

 

Chandrakanta drops her blade to reach out and touch Zak with a wand, "Averium, save us all.." She gets that out before the casting begins.

 

"I believe that's quite enough of this game," says He Who Hungers, letting out a laugh, though one that betrays how you've wounded and harried him every step he's taken here to get to the portal. All of you are suddenly frozen in place -- his crushing will descending on each of you to *force* you to stop. All of you, that is, but the more advanced liberator. 

 

"You can still move," he says, eyes swiveling to Zak. "Impressive. Most impressive. But too late. Far too late."

 

He reaches for the portal, then, bringing his mace to bear as he lifts it up. Indeed, the portal begins to grow more brightly as he steps towards it even now, pulsing with power beyond measuring, a great reddish tint beginning to form in. You can hear the rattle of chains in your minds, a great growl as the Wolf itself begins to rouse.

 

Zak lunges for the giant in an act of desperation, trying to get a grip on him.

 

Rawsone is frozen, a look of horror on her face. She may not be able to move, but she can pray--and *that*, she's doing fervently. Almost as fervently as her husband is trying to cuddle with the giant. No wonder she looks horrified.

 

And try thought he might, He Who Hungers is simply too strong, too big, and too large to really get an easy grip on. Unfortunately, this is not a Necronaut (whom we all know that Zak has a number on.)

 

He looks impressed with the act of bravery, though, saying, "When I remake the world, you will be amongst the first I make into my slaves," he says, pleased. "Your efforts have not been in vain. No story is worth writing, no prophecy worth fufilling, without adversaries worth proving oneself against. And at last, victory is mine." And with that, he rears back to reach his hand through the portal and... before he even gets that far, a single blazing green arrow *slices* through him, taking a huge chunk of his shoulder with it.

 

And then another, and then another.

 

As he steps forward, the very scorched earth surrounding you is healed, flowers and trees seeming to mend themselves. The dead, the injured, rise once more from their fallen positions, life restored to them -- those that *fought* against He Who Hungers, that is.

 

The spell holding each of you is broken in turn and a comforting warmth fills each of you.

 

The man -- this inscrutable and indiscernable figure, is no mere mortal.

 

You are in the presence of a God.

 

He Who Hungers drops to a knee.

 

"..no... not when I'm so close.."

 

The Forest Lord's deep sadness seems to reverberate with his every word. "These Children have defeated you. Their faith has brought me here."

 

Rawsone gasps for air. "NOW! NOW! LOOSE YOUR ARROWS WITH HIS!" Tears roll down her cheeks, and she drops to her knees and turns her bow on her side so she can still shoot. Arrow after silver arrow flies from her bow, though she's not so much looking where she's shooting as at Gilead. Sucks to be Zak right now.

 

For a moment, it hangs in balance, for a moment, horses stand unnaturally frozen, legs held in high state, plastered into the blood-churned soil. And then--release. Movement again. It starts so swiftly, with a choked, "For the Forest Lord!" and turns to a roar. The calvary pits itself against its foe.

 

Karelin unleashes his frustrated fury on He Who Hungers, blade spattering giant blood everywhere as he swings! He starts singing again, as he swings, quiet and too himself.

 

Zak doesn't reply at all to He Who Hungers, unless preparing himself for another mad desperate lunge toward the monster counts as a reply. And then things happen. And Zak raises his blade in salute to Gilead, awed, but too busy to really let it show. And then he steps forward. "Don't think of it as a defeat," he says. "Think of it as freedom from this wretched existence." And then he proceeds to methodically (by his standards) slice into the giant's defenses.

 

As life works its way back into Chandra's muscles, she gives a look of aw to see the glowing green arrows tearing He Who Hungers asunder. "We are blessed.." She says softly, 'And you are not.." Her blades rips into the flesh of the giant, aiding the others in giving him his new freedom.

 

"..no! I will not fall! I will not!" He Who Hungers *survives* the assault. The initial one. "I will now bow before you, Forest Lord! This is my day of victory! I will not bow before these.. these *mortals* who defied me! Garm shall make me stronger than ever before!"

 

It's the pathetic, criminal crying of one who is near beaten, and he is, his weapon hangs limply in his hand.

 

"...said He." Rawsone, tears rolling down her face, begins doing something that none of those present, with the *possible* exception of Gilead, have ever heard her do. Sing. "...and I'll lead you all, wherever you may be, and I'll lead you all in the Hunt, said He." Her voice gets louder as she climbs to her feet and flies over, planting herself on the ground next to her husband. "My bow like the sword," she murmurs, reaching behind her and pulling out not one, but four arrows. "I hunted in the morning when the world was begun, and I hunt near the moon and the stars and the sun, I came down from Heaven and I hunted on Gaea, I hunt with Daeus and Kor and Althea, I am the Lord of the HUNT SAID HE!" Through the song, she fits the arrows to the bowstring and in one smooth motion pulls it back and lets the arrows fly. The four arrows land perfectly, piercing the giant's throat, causing him to lift a hand to try to pull them out before the fact that he's dead catches up with his brain and he topples to the ground. The Tree shakes around them with the impact. "...HUNT, THEN, WHEREVER YOU MAY BE, I AM THE LORD OF THE HUNT SAID HE AND I'LL LEAD YOU ALL, WHEREVER YOU MAY BE, AND I'LL LEAD YOU ALL IN THE HUNT SAID HE!" Her voice...is actually not all that bad.

 

So of course that can't be the end of it. Not entirely.

 

He Who Hungers' spirit is ripped from its body by Gilead as it falls -- the Ranger Lord seems at ease -- at peace with doing this -- and in a rather terrifying sight to behold, *transforms* the wailing spirit of the giant as well as his fallen body.

 

The forest has a new tree, blossoming with vibrant colors. "You shall never be near your Master, Orvesian," intones the lord of the Hunt as his body and spirit are trasnformed to wood to feed the forest and return to the natural cycle, "and now you may serve a purpose in creation rather than destruction. Perhaps, in time, your spirit will be so redeemed."

 

In the meantime, in the subtle irony gods are known for, his tree faces the portal which was so recently his goal, forever just a short distabnce from ultimate victory.

 

Gilead himself now turns his eyes towards you, regarding each of you in turn before he leans forward, taking Rawsone's head between his hand. He kisses her forehead. "Be at peace, my Child, you have earned your place in the Heavens. And each of you have done so as well this day."

 

Karelin's swordtip trembles as he holds it, low, watching the transformation. He considers Gilead's words, eyes bloodshot and rimmed in red, brimming with frustration and relief.

 

Darshan looks stunned. Well, stunned. He lowers his blade, and the men and women behind him begin to cheer. It's hesitant at first, and then roars into something that never made sense, never will make sense, because it's one loud, continuous /roar/. And the sith still looks stunned. Srassha starts eating the grass. Nervous tummy.

 

Chandrakanta slackens her wrists, blades now heavy in her hands. The exhaustion of her battle fighting with the joy of the moment. She doesn't cry, but tears could possibly fall. When the god speaks to them all she can manage is a weak, "Thank you.."

 

Rawsone can't bring herself to look up to meet His eyes, not yet, but she manages to get an arm around Zak for support as she cries. It's a mixture of relief and religion. And while it's not yet obvious--she will be a different person from here on out, already *is* a different person only still tending toward the quiet side.

 

Rochanna comes up to Rawsone's other side and nuzzles her, before turning to Gilead. Oh yes. Yes, the *horse* doesn't have any qualms about speaking to Him. "You should have made him into an apple tree. Everybody likes apples."

 

Well, he...bows. Darshan bows from the saddle before the god, and after a kick--Srassha looks up and does, too. She executes the same, and none too badly, for a savage lizard. Either Darshan's work, or Lady Mandara's, but she does it, and the two stay that way, amid the roars and cheers.

 

"An apple tree, you say? There does seem to be a shortage of those."

 

Apples promptly spring from the flowers on the Tree That Was He Who Hungers. because why not, really.

 

Gilead then turns towards the others and says, "...you must go. This is not a place for the living. It is the home of the dead -- and those that fought with you this day may remain."

 

..most will say yes. It sure beats the desert.

 

But before you have a chance to do anything else, you're suddenly, well.. *gone* from that place. In fact, there's a carriage running straight at you in the middle of the street on the Highbridge in Alexandria.

 

Karelin is still standing stock-still, sword hanging loosely in his hands. He's gore-spattered, sweat-soaked and even a little shell-shocked. His anti-carriage reactions? Not so swift. Though he does try to step for the sideof the Bridge.

 

"Okay, but first, can I--waaaaaugh!" Sir Rochanna bravely dives out of the way. Rawsone, still in shock, probably would have gotten hit if Zak hadn't pulled her to one side--quite the reverse, there.

 

That must be a sight, the miracle of the 5 of them showing up on the high bridge out of no where. Chandra's battered figure looking still too frozen in the moment to really put two and two together that a carriage is headed at them, and then there is that self awareness that sinks in, along with Karelin's movements, she slowly steps aside.

 

Darshan looks up to an--no, an empty street it isn't. He stares a while, and straightens in the saddle, the features still stunned, still in shock...enough he doesn't get out of the way of the carriage. He and Srassha stare at it, the latter pacing, waiting for some signal--and nervously chomping at her bit.

 

Ganesa gets out of the carriage and runs over to Darshan and hugs him.

 

What, even Gilead has a sense of hunmor!

 

For the nth time that...day? Is it only a day? Darshan looks down, stunned. The mouth works, sort of. And he pats her on the head once, three times before reaching down and hauling her up to the swift's saddle. "...don't tell your aunt," he says finally. Because he might have survived He Who Hungers, but Lady Mandara would kill him. He glances over at Rawsone and Zak.

 

Chandrakanta grabs hold of the Korite, "At least this is close enough to the den, I could use some stew. I think Brother Agril can handle taking care of Hellraiser and the cats for another day." She begins to limp off without another word to the others. There will be time to talk about this later, after all.

 

Rawsone and Zak are still hugging, though the former has at least stopped crying. "Need to tell the Vardamans 'bout those bodies in the forest," she points out. Zak offers to go, and since the children are in the other direction, Rawsone stays.

 

"There room in the carriage?" Darshan asks Ganesa, and looks over at Rawsone. Pauses. "Mrm...come on, Mother. We can all ride. Someone needs to hold this one--" a gentle jab at Ganesa's tummy, "--or she'll flap her arms really mrm, hard and try to--"

 

"I can too fly! I just need the right device..."

 

At this point, the sith looks tired. Overwhelmed. And pleading.

 

"I...well...suppose we are going in the same direction. All right," Rawsone agrees, nodding and moving a little closer to the pair, wiping tears from her eyes.

 

It follows a quiet smile, and wrapping hands around the child's waist, Darshan holds her out for Rawsone. "Here...she kicks..."

 

"I do no--"

 

"Mrm, yes, you do. But you're going to be nice for the Mother, here. She is very tired."

 

"...'kay."

 

And the little girl's handed down. She has mud on her face, on her cheeks. Her hair's in disarray from the run--but it was recently, freshly combed.

 

Rawsone reaches up and takes the girl, immediately brushing at the mud to try to get some of it off. "You're not going to ride me?" Rochanna asks, sounding disappointed. "You'd rather ride in that loud thing that bounces around like a sack of potatoes?"

 

There are things little girls do. One of them is--

 

Squeal.

 

Ganesa lets loose a rip of one, kicking her feet and hugging the tired ranger. "She TALKS!!" and immediately holding out her hands, because nothing will do but she see the horse RIGHT NOW and go over there RIGHT NOW and because it's a...

 

It's a talking horse. Every kid should have this dream.

 

Rawsone sighs. Tiredly. "Oh no," Rochanna says. "Oh no. No no no. You keep her away--" But Rawsone's already brought Ganesa over. "Your fault. Didn't have such a big mouth, she wouldn't've known you talked," the ranger points out. She'll boost Ganesa up into the saddle if she wants.

 

Ganesa does want. But she's more interested in wrapping her arms around the horse's sweaty, smelly neck and dirtying her dress and causing her aunt fits than she is anything else. And squealing. And squealing more. "She talks! She talks! Can you teach my horses? Aunt has alot of horses, but none of them /talk/. ...can you say apple? Pie? Do you eat pie? You can, can't you?" Hughughug. Squeaaaaal.

 

Her guardian stares, his frill dropped tiredly atop his head. "Ah..." he starts to say. And just. Shuts his mouth.

 

Of course. "...Why, do you have an apple?" Rochanna is giving Rawsone an angry flick of her ear. "I like apples."

 

"Can't teach any other horses, no. 'S just Rochanna. 'Cause she's a gift from the gods," Rawsone explains. Then, turning back to Darshan, "...Think we'll be taking Rochanna instead of the carriage."

 

"Ah..." he says, which could be agreement. Could be. Probably is.

 

"Squeee! Ok! You should come visit! I have /lots/ of apples! And pie. I can make you a pie, and we can have lots of fun. She can come visit, can't she?" Ganesa looks up at Rawsone, and then back to Rochanna. "And cakes, and cookies...can you have cookies?"

 

"I'm very good at making cookies," Ganesa says. "You can have them if they're apple cookies, right? And you really can't teach our other horses to talk? That's a shame. I've always thought horses would have neat things to say. Can we go riding sometime? Do you like dresses?"

 

Rochanna blows out a big stinky horse-breath. "Dresses are silly," she opines. "Though if I looked like you, I'd want to cover up too." Her ears prick up at the mention of food. "That wizard gave me a cookie once. It was good." Rawsone...just shrugs. It's not really her decision anymore.