Creaking of branches and whispers of souls. A sight unlike that which had become familiar since arriving at the realm of fire. Ever in pursuit of the next opponent to hone their skill, the brothers could smell imminent battle on the burning air. Yet, quicker drawn to slaughter, the stampede of slanngors were first to rush in. The Commanders were in a frenzy to experience the delights of battle in this new realm. Stampeding, seemingly aimlessly in their erratic nature, a lumbering amalgamation of branch and soul attempted to impede their satisfaction. Unwaivering in stride, the beastial knights saw this larger foe as nothing more than an adversary to better quell their obsession of violence. Massive claws pruned the lording spirit back to a sapling, leaving the fiendbloods to frolick in the pleasure of slaughter amongst it's splintered kin.
'What glorious cacophonies!' Front and centre, Rhi'ol basked in the sensations of battle that he had been too long without. 'Didn't I tell you brother? There would be greater prey for us to hunt here.'
Another hulking mass of cursed flora came charging at him, ancient and invigorated by magic. Merely another opportunity to display their martial prowess, the trio of Faultless Blades danced towards the opening that their Lord provided. Where bone became blade, augmented limbs cleaved through bark, rending the unlife from the abomination.
'Always in over your head, little brother.' His twin goads, striding across the scattered remnants of the beastkin and reanimated wood alike. Thaa'ris' mace, empowered by emberstone energy, shatters the ranks of spites now in Rhi'ol's place. 'Alway having to clean up your mess.' He mutters, loud enough for his lesser to hear.
Creatures of broken flesh flew in to save the last of the spirits that lingered after our glorious first clash in this fiery realm.
Staggering away, picking wood spikes from wounds and shaking off the creatures deathly touch. This was but a taste of the depravity we would cause.