>>96402560
>turn that one other gal as the ghyra character
>Iscilla Thorian was staggering through the back alleys of Verdigris when she remembered her name.
>Broken memories came back in flashes, each the thump of a spear against blood-sodden earth. She had collapsed. She had seen the Sylvaneth's hunt arrive... no, that had come first. She had awoken alone within the keep. She—
>She could still hear the horns. They blasted beyond the toppled walls. They sent the trees shivering. It was relentless enough that Thorian barely remembered staggering from her chambers, or how her body had broken out in bark-flesh growths that creaked with each step. That Ghyran sought to claim her both body and soul did not penetrate the Marshal's fogged thoughts.
>Enough of Thorian remained to marvel that no one had found her. Something guided her away from Dawners knelt in prayer beneath statues being raised up by lashing vines, or labouring to repair domiciles overgrown with thick and edible-looking moss. The passage of Belthanos and his magic-charged hunt had accelerated Verdigris's rebirth; Thorian felt a stirring reverberation, as Ghyran itself sought to try and heal the city along with its defenders. Somewhere, a flag had been hoisted beneath skies turned black, and a trumpet blasted out, mournful but defiant. It was not the glorious victory anyone had hoped for – but it was victory of a sort.
>For a moment, Thorian felt she ought to aid her people in their labours with her magics. Then the horn blast echoed again. It baffled her that no other seemed able to hear it, nor appeared to see the world through the haze of verdant green that she did. Yet it did not matter. The lord of the hunt demanded her presence. She still had duty to do. And Iscilla Thorian was a woman of duty.
>As Iscilla staggered towards the shattered gates, the light of the moon Kurnalune shone down. They cast the antlers sprouting from her brow into shadowy relief, before she passed back into the gloom