Heinrich was not pleased to return once more to the Shadowfell, and the horrifying depravity of the abattoir Blackroot had created shook him inside. The others hardly noticed and strolled about as if through a garden, inspecting the potent ritual magic or the lord of the domain. But Heinrich was accustomed to showing nothing of his personal thoughts.
He was surprised when the corrupted elder spirit invaded his mind with questioning images of the Firewind Blade exploding into action against Blackroot’s rotted form. While he wasn’t exactly certain why the two most devious of their coven had wanted to approach Blackroot rather than proceeding onto Durthu, a quick glance at his compatriots seemed to show the Viscount wanting to discuss strategy and timing and the collective host of the Necrarchs seemed to be studying Blackroot’s ritual. While the Dread Master had always been a collector—of knowledge, servants, power, personalities, lairs, and more—there didn’t seem to be any reason to believe there was a betrayal looming. Or at least the featureless mask he wore over his twisted visage did not betray one. Unsure of quite how the communication worked, Heinrich simply shook his head and briefly envisioned himself burning through the air like a shooting star into Durthu’s massive trunk.
Seemingly appeased by this, the last of Heinrich’s thousand lacerations from Durthu’s faerie spirits’ many swords faded and closed in the twisted version of Blackroot’s healing emanations. Satisfied that whatever the conflict was had been resolved, the Warden went back to contemplating the war that progressed back on the material plane. He questioningly sought Blackroot’s thoughts again. While he knew that Blackroot’s many powers were countered and held at bay by Durthu’s similar but opposite nature, he wondered if with his seemingly inevitable defeat if Blackroot might provide a form of aid in the much more uncertain events that played out around Templehof. Blackroot’s response was patronizing, an ancient creature’s assured belief that the vampire coven would be destroyed when they assaulted Durthu. Heinrich however was completely unmoved, he had given up understanding how he and his allies kept accomplishing the implausible with an astounding degree of success but he had enough empirical evidence of it at this point to simply accept it and confidently returned image after image of impossible victory being forcibly taken from the jaws of defeat. The images were remarkably easy to conjure as there were a multitude of them and Heinrich had had up-close and personal views of each.
Heinrich didn’t care if the twisted tree believed him. It would believe soon enough when it was accomplished momentarily. So, he pressed on with images of necromancers summoning reinforcements in front of and behind the invading armies. He imagined the high elf armies evading the undead legions and shattering Arkhan’s ritual, and he stressed his point by picturing all the wasted effort around him should the source of the eldritch energies being channeled at the Nine Daemons stone circle be disrupted. Finally he sent images of necromancer’s reinforcements again, this time sped forth into battle through shortcuts in the Feywild and Shadowfell to engage the invading forces from every angle before they were able to escape, for added measure he added lumbering undead treefolk and treekin to his picture engagements and awaited Blackroot’s response.