On a certain night, a number of Order men tasked to watch over during the hour of the eel… claimed that they heard the furious roar of a dragon. Echoing the mountains from afar.
Making some of the handy K9s restless for quite some while.
And as much as they expected for their little leader to be someone who summons some dragon from somewhere... those roar-hearing claimants must just be imagining things.
The night shift just does that to people. For the turns were fairly rotational... and they've all been there.
Needing to be alert despite the urge to shut eyes.
Even with the energizing coffee brew that the young industrious lord introduced as a late-hour remedy.
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Consequently, after a couple of vigilant and defensive nights like that... it was finally the day that they attack.
Or, officially, go on the offensive.
For the Young Bronze had already disseminated the meticulous and cautious plan that he'd drafted up... against the Sons of the Tree on their tall-treed territory.
Branch-hopping and vine-swinging warfarers, who know their surprisingly-dense mountain forest like the back of their hand.
Aside from that, the Bronze Order also had to be prepared for the other clans that chose to nestle under the Tree Sons' canopies.
Principle to look out for were the Frog Pickers and the Prowlers.
Offshoot variants of the Milk Snakes and the Howlers.
It was how these clans got as plentiful as they were anyways...
A member at some point would be fed up with the established ways... and branch off to make another.
The Frog Picking founder, according to early-tortured Milk Snakers... didn't like snakes that much and was more sympathetic to the poisonous frogs that they usually force-fed to their slithering pets to potentially increase venom lethality.
The Frog Picker clan, who follow this snake-traitor's developed methods, use thin and tiny sticks, which they'll pick unto poisonous frog secretions... then use that as either a projectile or for close-contact applications.
Compared to what the Milk Snakes preferred, these laced sticks just had numbing and paralyzing effects ... for the Frog Pickers to eventually have their odd ways with their preys.
Frog carers yet were more cruel to the men and women they came across.
Morbid story short... it was just best to think of them as "Milk Snakes two point oh"... according to the little leader.
While the Prowlers were just the "Howlers two point oh" as well... albeit much more quiet and actually mingling with shadowcats instead of wolves.
And at this point, it had come to their attention that the White Eyes that their little lord easily killed might have actually been a skinchanger from the stories... and chances are that these Prowlers had a skinchanger leader in their midst.
Granted, they were also told that there was a Bear Hugger to be wary of... for this so-called "Goldilocks" was apparently raised by rare cave bears and they assumed that it might just be a skinchanger too.
For everyone they're about to be up against seems to be so...
Fortunately, there were still some normal ones... like the Sharp Tooths, the Noseless, the Spear Armed, the Two Tongued, the Six Fingered, the Pierced, the Roped Men, and so on.
Relatively odd in their own rights... but relatively normal with all things considered.
Especially when there's still the so-called "Final Boss"… someone that the young leader speculated to probably be related to the more mythical Children of the Forest.
Making what was to happen next beyond normal... but... they were the Order of the Bronze, were they not?
And this glory would no doubt be theirs...
To make for a tale and song for the ages in the Vale!
This was to be the Cleansing of the Mountains!
Or the Healing of the Hills... depending on what one preferred.
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With the men psyched... and mostly following the plan to the dot... it ended just as well as Ronan had expected.
Sneaking and rushing before the Tarzan-esque clansmen could take to their vantage points.
Before long, the non-threats and innocents were rounded up in one clearing... some of them crying in grief... some crying as a release... or just baby-crying because most of them were literal babies.
Most of the goon types were either roped up or dead... with the deadies being the consequence of resisting arrest way too much and there was not much else that could be done about that.
Casualties are casualties, and were to be expected.
Even in the Bronze Order... wherein two were unfortunately dead... the first and second major casualties of this ambitious endeavor.
While injuries and some gashes were accrued by some, here and there, throughout these half a year... it was still quite the miracle that the death of their comrades had been kept to an outstanding nil.
Til now.
Which were the two men assigned at edge zones... who just couldn't contain the more panicky types who ran their way.
There's probably some carelessness on their part and a burst of desperation from the cowards... and then...
The losses were made. Which was such a shame... but they should manage.
Like managing to catch up to the culprits and just beheading them in outright retaliation.
And yes, it's actually not because of the surprising might of the clan leader types.
Cause even when Ronan might seem to have his hands full with the supernatural lot of them... he still allotted well-enough formations and positionings that limited their cut-above intensity.
The Prowler skinchangers simply had to have their shadowcats up against the dogs... and they mostly became limited.
While the Bear Hugger he aptly monikered "Goldilocks" was the real problem he prioritized... because she actually had three Grizzly-esque bears on her beck and call...
But yeah... all he had to do was not go too hard or too soft... but be just right...
At killing them in an orderly fashion... starting with Papa Bear, to Mama Bear, to Son Bear, and then the adopted change-skin woman...
For said woman literally wore a torn-off face for a mask and was bear-y bearish...
So, an "I-can-fix-her" attitude was just not worth it in his opinion.
And while he did so... arrows were already lodged by his men into the prowling shadowcatters.
From there, it became much easier... cause the remaining leader types were pretty much just decent fighters with odd body modifications...
Like how the leader of Six Fingered actually had seven fingers... so, congratulations to him at least.
However, the biggest bust of them all should be the Great Son of the Tree. Leader of the Sons of the Tree.
Presumed to be a Children of the Forest... but Ronan himself finally checked up close, and the short dude was actually a fraud.
Not even a dudette, like how he remember the Children to look in the show.
Just a little boy that probably rubs himself daily in slightly green-tinted grey ash to look the part... making for a budding con artist...
But given that this was their known leader figure for who knows how long now... it was clearly some systematic lie-to-themselves that was perpetuated to steady their belief system.
Of Old Gods, of heart trees, and the magical Forest Children.
And after "politely" asking around, it would seem that their Great Son was really just a puppet propped up to be replaced by another... after one goes through the puberty cycle.
So, sacrificial sacrilege or just an established ritual... cause the aging Great Sons are said be buried under a fresh weirwood sapling... planted by the newly chosen Great Son.
Which really made Ronan question whether if that's actually how those man-faced trees are created... or was this the Tree Sons' twisted way of twisting things?
Then again, it was just freaky... and he simply pivoted to look to the bright side...
Especially the fact that these burials were supposedly done with weirwood planting.
Weirwood of all woods.
And for all he cares... all of the faced trees they'll have is an actual magical medium that can be runed. A treasure trove situated within their special Godswood, hidden amidst their lush forest...
Perhaps the biggest and most lucrative loot that this self-given mission will ever award to him.
All their years of sweat and bloody tears... for Ronan's easy pickings.