The Verdant Grove’s Weary Warrior

So much blood had been spilled this day. The Orenthul blossoms would be a deep crimson for centuries. Queen Salvia of the Green took in all the carnage that surrounded her. Friend and foe lay mangled and broken at her feet, the once fertile ground now slick with mud, blood, and oil. The latter came from the wretched armaments her enemies placed themselves in so they could keep pace with her people. They fought low in the trees, using the exhaust to choke the inhabitants that lived further above in the canopy. When hit, the pipes carrying the accursed fuel burst spectacularly, spraying the black liquid all over the forest. It was a parting gift that she could live without.

How long had this seige lasted, she wondered. This last wave had to have been the eight one. These wretched humans bred like rabbits. Having sent the last of her men to finish evacuating the denizens of the forest city to the outskirts, she was the only opposition left. Her body ached in every place imaginable, and she had long given up on hand to hand combat. No, her body and home had paid dearly for it. Now she was forced to use the land itself as a weapon, a powerful last resort.

A new wave was approaching. Though she was a far distance away from them, the land told her as much. The same count as the last time, but a different armament? She took to the trees, her form almost melding with them, as she propelled herself to the highest point available to her. She reached the top in no time and scanned the edge of the forest where the army was entering. Her curiosity over the new weapon type was answered when a massive fireball erupted from the treeline ahead of her.

They were burning her forest. Her home.

Salvia descended a little towards one of the huts that had been recently abandoned. She knew this home, its occupants now hopefully safe. She made her way inside and sat down on a stool near the room's center. She could barely contain the sobs forcing their way through her body. She needed to focus, so she pulled the last image of her husband, the King, into her mind. He left the Grove in perfect health on a peaceful visit to the human rulers, only to return a bloated, unrecognizable mess. Poisoned, most likely. Her retaliation had been swift and ferocious, turning numerous human outposts near the grove into plant covered rubble. Any and all trade routes the nearby kingdom had were cut off. They had been isolated completely. There was no help coming. However, the humans numbered so many, they reacted with a great force once they were backed into a corner.

And now she was bearing witness to their resolve.

She left the hut, descended to the ground, then made her way to the center of the forest town. She stood in a clearing and began summoning roots from the earth. They tangled and twined their way about her body, lifting her in the air and covering everything but her head. With a single command from her, the forest came alive, the trees uprooting from the ground and moving towards the main enemy forces with a purpose. She didn't know how this day would end, but she did know of the peculiar ways of humans. They sang songs of important events in their short lifespans. And she was surer than anything that after she painted the land with the blood of her enemies, she would no longer be known as Salvia of the Green, but Red Silvia of the Living Forest.