I'll have to move to the totem if i want to contort those soldiers, otherwise if i keep my distance, they will run arrows through my flesh-
"ZRZzT!" A sharp whistle went through my ear, i looked to my surroundings, there were no fragments of ice nor thudded arrows. Until i took a glimpse at the back of my totem, there were ice arrows behind it. Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced my back, looking to my rear to see archers perched atop trees. I cross my fingers, its arms swirl and extend creating a drill, swinging it across the treetops. I land above my puppet, "Sanguis Obscirum" mist of dark blood burst from the maws, obscuring their sights. They answer blindly with volleys of arrows, dispersing the mist little by little, opening a pocket of sight for their army. Pulling the arrow etched in my back, It acts as a platform to spin between my fingers creating a swinging motion of blood in the totem, de-rooting trees for weapons. Antler emblems on their uniform, spotted hide lined atop of steel. No doubt, these are the elves of Eir'zhul. An established kingdom on the snowy mountains, i suppose they're resorting to pillages for resource in these gale, if that's the case, there should be more battalions arming.
I'll use one face on the tip of the totem to spitfire blood upwards, the Liver and Intestinal brigade should be able to see the flare. Forward towards the elven force, they've set into a curved phalanx formation, covering openings to the inside. limbs at the upper body focused on shielding and deflecting incoming arrows while the lower body acts as chariots. They're getting ready to charge the moment i get close enough, too bad, I've already got control of the frozen blood under them. "Hemorrhage" Frozen blood beneath their feet crack and rupture creating shrapnel of blood that etches inside the blood of victims, creating an unavoidable infection. Before i could realize, my puppet had been frozen, all the surface of the terrain had turned into ice. The elves seemed relieved, what's happening? Double edged lines carve through the ice, there's a constant scraping sound, a swirling motion of air forms behind me. I duck under, small particles of hail spray to my face as my eyes were met with spinning curve-bladed boots, twisting mid-air, landing back on ice with precise sliding. He has an emblem of Eir'zhul, he's swift, shrugging off blood with each spin.
"A pleasure to meet you," Hail frosts around his boots as he halts his movements, bowing over. "I'm Nirvara Estil, you?"
"Sanguis Obscirum, frust" A faint breath, barely sound, explodes the dried flesh of her puppet into shrapnel. Exploding to all sides. Nirvara however, performs an axel-type spin with his skates dispersing the fragments effortlessly, pushing off the ice, pivoting at the edge of his rink, twirling spirals into the ice as the wind tugs his hair back.
"Bear your fangs, wolf." Curving his momentum with one hand across the ice, accumulating enough shavings to concentrate his own. Beeline for the blood-render, consuming the ice on his palms and blowing it to the vicinity of Zoirat, freezing her lower body to the ground before leaping above and springing his leg upwards, a hiss in the wind as it snapped downwards-
"Sangra thulmar, vreos kirael, antra vrelis shira weil. Korun trialus, brenor veth!" A horn could be heard, staffs hung in ringing wind-chimes from the distant hills, mountain goats gallop with their origins marked on their horns. The Peristaltic corps of the intestine settlement, The bile wardens of Liver settlement. A chant that gives berserk to any who it grants to.
"Shit, more of them," Nirvara scoffs, "Men! Mount your fallows, we're retreating until the brigade arrives!"
Projectile like-vials began fire to the retreating battalion, purging toxins and loss of control to the riders below. Alchemy from the Peristaltics that "digest" and breakdown metal. The bile wardens focus on shaman forces, most likely where the last lead shaman came from, focusing on guerrilla tactics with adaptive tendril blades. The Peristaltic corps focus on defense and deflection, wielding shields and spears alongside vials that wear down on the enemy, crucial for holding forts and areas such as the Lung Settlement.
"Everybody! Scout the areas incase of an ambush. Shamans, search the settlement incase of any left behind." The warden of the bile orders, "We've got your blood signal, Head Shaman. It'll be a matter of time until they return, gather your blood." He melts the ice around my lower body. Warden of the shamans, master of the heretic's sutra.