Willow!!!

The war machines rolled up one day in the dead of winter. It was common knowledge that the bitter cold weakened a dryad's resolve, and this was taken full advantage of. However, the Candorborn were far from naïve and foresaw the return of the stubborn industrialists. Fighting through their frigid afflictions, the dryads churned up the frozen soils surrounding the mystic woods so when the industrialists brought their metal beasts and wrought iron warriors, they sank. The soldiers who survived the ambush abandoned their equipment in the muck and retreated, leaving nature to reclaim it all.

Their defeat would not stand. After licking their wounds, the industrialists devised a cunning plan. They'd poison the Candorborn. So they developed a virus- a bioweapon to wipe them all out. In the dead of night, an acrid fog sailed through the canopy of the mystic woods. Canisters filled with Death itself were catapulted from miles away, fumigating the very forest the Candorborn called home. What was green had now been painted a sickly shade of rusty brown. None were spared.

But the plan backfired. There was a fatal flaw in the bioweapon's formula. Somehow, the Candorborn were able to endure. The bioweapon didn't kill them, no... it changed them. Twisted their biology to embody rot and decay. No longer the Candorborn, the Lichora rose from the ashes and sought revenge on the industrialists.

Their victory was total. The battle was over the same day it began. Not even their finest warriors nor their brutal war machines could stop the legions of decay that swarmed from the old forests. They seized control and issued the industrialist leaders the same ultimatum they gave the Candorborn: surrender, or perish.

White flags shot up all at once. The city was theirs. But their work wasn't done. Having heard tales of the fallen city, neighboring armies saw fit to invade. Surely rotting dryads wouldn't put up much of a fight, and their civilizations could certainly make use of the resources the Lichora had just inherited. But the invasions would fail. It became clear to the Lichora that the industrial gears still turned elsewhere in the world; a global tilting of the scales away from harmony with nature. It was only a matter of time before more showed up.

So they extended their reach, divided, and conquered every last civilization in Zunah. Every living, breathing soul would know the Lichora's resilient might and fall under their total control. Their vengeance was exacted; Zunah was theirs. Its people would obey their every command, but... now what? After all that bloodshed, did the Lichora truly want to perpetuate the same cruelty they had been subjected to? Because they were peace-loving dryads at their core, all they ever wanted was harmony. And now they had the power to change the world- to realize their vision.

In the end, the Lichora chose kindness. The industrial machines were reworked to serve the people rather than oppress them. Society was organized to restore the world to its former beauty rather than pillage it for brutal glory. Everyone would have their needs seen to, regardless of circumstance. Everyone would be brought together. Horrible realities like hunger and war and loneliness became a distant memory. People... genuinely liked the Lichora. And their rule would persist uncontested for hundreds of years.

But then aliens invaded. From the heavens themselves descended war machines unlike any the world had ever seen, but by this time the battle-hardened Lichora had figured out how to properly defend themselves. The aliens were dispatched the same day they invaded. But then more arrived, and more, and more, falling time and time again. They just never stopped coming. The Lichora knew they would need to take to the stars if their world was to ever know peace again.

By persuading the invaders onto their side and reverse engineering their war machines, the Lichora were able to find the alien homeworld. They made it theirs. And connected to that homeworld were dozens of others; a whole galaxy of industrialists that were once again trying to expand into Lichora territory.

No more. One way or another, every planet would fall into the Lichora's fold. Every world would know peace; they had no choice. The Lichora would be proactive and stop the hand before it could strike, choosing instead to steady it.