The Drakos-El - a clan based in the jungle and fiercely religious - and the Dynio - another clan based in the jungle and neighbors to the Drakos-El - have been at war for well over a hundred years. While the reason is unknown, they fight fiercely and never show any signs of gaining ground over each other. Until another enemy forces them into allying.
Mr. Wester Felion, High Officer and Blessed by the True Source, sat in his hiding place. His body, covered by black metal armor for stealth, invisible to any others that might look his way. Only his blonde locks of hair could possibly give him away, though it was still impossible given his location under the Great Lymosen Tree.
Below him lay the Valley Pass, a road that spread from the Drakos-El clan's home to the northern clan of Fregurd. A supply train was coming from Drakos-El and toward the north, purposely in the latest time of night. Those heathens in the Dynio clan only needed to take the bait and attack it.
A movement to Wester's right cause his pistol - a massive iron thing that was more of a pipe that a gun - to leave its holster and aim at the shadows. Only when Wester saw Garland's massive form did he relax and place the gun back in its place.
"We've received word from our scouts," the bald Drakos-El said with a smile. "The heathens have taken the bait." Garland reeked of eagerness. But, it was to be expected from the man. Not only did they get to ambush the Dynio heathens, Garland loved battle in all forms.
"Good work, Mr. Garland," Wester told the man. "Perhaps we will be able to gain an edge on them and win this war." Moving towards the Lymosen Tree, Wester grabbed his large shields and attached them to his arms. The blades that jutted forward should have made him off balance, but Wester had trained to compensate. Just as Garland had trained with the massive axes he wore on his back.
"They won't even know what hit them, Mr. Wester," Garland whispered.
"Oh, they will," Wester replied, making Garland give him an odd look. "There will simply be no proof, my friend."
Garland smiled widely and laughed a little. "As you say, High Officer." And just as quickly as he came, Garland had left. The man was a berserker in battle, but he was a Drakos-El and, as such, capable of doing any job he needed to.
One thing left, then. Wester opened himself to the Great Source in prayer and drew on it's power. Of the Six Ways, Wester was allowed three from birth. The Six Ways worked in harmony with the land, creating life and making it sustainable. It was a holy thing in all its entirety.
Sadly, it was not limited to the faithful. The heathens had access to the powers of the Ways as well. The Dynio clan had proven to be powerful in their use of the Source's gift, making Wester wonder about his deity's nature. No, he must not doubt.
First was the Flames, the Way of Growth and Fury. The power flooded Wester's veins and moved toward his right hand. There, it stored itself in preparation for the battle. Wester would use it to fuel his pistol and rain divine judgement against the heathens.
Next was the Earth, the Way of Preservation and Peace. The power did not move to any one place in Wester's body, like Flame had, but went to cover every inch of his person and even his clothing, armor, and shields. Where Earth touched, the area became more solid. Wester was essentially wearing another suit of armor with the power.
The last Way he had, Holy, the Way of Life and Power, Wester left unused. While he could not heal with the Way like others had learned to, he used Holy as a means to strengthen his own body in any dire situation. It was a trump card of sorts.
Just as he had finished his preparations, Wester saw the first of the Dynio heathens. A smile crept across his face. It was time to show the fools why the Drakos-El would win this long war.