The stench of mountains of corpses and seas of blood rolled through the valley, mingling with flames to turn the whole place into hell.
The bodies of five thousand barbarian knights lay strewn across the mud and blood. The remains of giants and magical beasts had crushed the surrounding rocks, their charred sinews and bones still smoking.
The red mist had yet to disperse completely. Thick as churned old blood, it glimmered an eerie dark red in the light.
But the knights of the Red Tide Fief moved steadily through it, transparent masks framed in silver covering their faces.
Patterns with a pale blue sheen lined the edges of the masks. A viscous potion refined from Frostleaf Vine slowly released a thin veil of vapor with each breath the knights took, blocking all mental interference.
The eyes behind the masks were cool and focused, showing no sign of being affected by the red mist. Their movements were crisp.
The remaining barbarians who had lost control were stabbed where they stood. Blazing oil poured from bottles over the heaps of bodies, igniting instantly with piercing explosions.
The flames pounced on the flesh like beasts, devouring it, charring it, reducing it to ash.
Vines and flesh flowers convulsed and shrank back in the blaze. As their petals turned to ash, a sickening, sweet smell of burning filled the air.
One knight bent down and used the tip of his blade to lift a length of unburned dark red vine and several flower hearts that still held a faint glow.
They were carefully placed in a potion jar encased in cold iron. Its lid was locked shut, and it was handed to a knight behind him.
Alchemists would dissect these things in the laboratories of Red Tide City, attempting to understand their origins