[Forum Game] Agorath and the Maegi Prophecy

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    Real Strategy Requires Cunning

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BlackBishop

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Arl Farkark One-Eye
Lord of Honey Hall and North Shield


We, the masters of North Shield refuse to call Kvothe 'the faithless' of Kalare the king of Norseland. As long as I draw breath, the Honey Hall shall remain free from the grip of Kalare City. We call upon all righteous Nords and the All-Father to end the tyranny of this so called king. So say I and the Thanes of Honey Hall.

~Arl Farkark One Eye​
 

BlackBishop

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Meeting

Luk'av has been polishing armor. Good warrior always needs to keep his equipment in good condition. His armor was well crafted black steel armor. On it were inscribed tribe markings of Bravenkin. Armor didn't contain any magical properties. It was made by tribes blacksmith Onderon. Luk'av used this armor numerous times since he became chief.

After he finished maintenance of his armor, he continued to sharpen his axe. The axe had two steel blades and handle was made out of steel as well. This made axe quite heavy, but that is no problem for Luk'av as he is pretty strong. Then one of his shieldbearer bring him news.

News has reached Bravengrad that Lord Goi'Orka and Lord Zephfer have finally sworn allegiance to Dark One. Upon hearing the news Luk'av summons tribes shaman and leader of one of the clans Brom. He orders him that he contacts the new lords through Seeing Stone and invite them to attend first meeting on Drearaghuer to discuss strategy and other plans.

A mist in the seeing stone gives way to the face of a fair man, clad in full battle armour, a fiery aurora about him.

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"Hail and well met, Lord Luk'av. May the Dark keep you strong. Though your calls for a gathering have gone unheeded from our new arrivals to the west, know that I shall personally be joining you. The Dark Ones time draws near, and all that serve him will be blessed in his purifying Dark. The men of the Ashen Wastes rally behind His call. Look for my coming on Drearagheur, look for King Ashtul, Lord of the Fallen."

Ashtul answers the summons of Lord Luk'av
 

BlackBishop

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Dark Magic
These powerful spells require a tribute of 100 gold to Drearagheur to master, or significant meditation on the Dark - one turn of meditation diminishes your cost by 10 gold for up to 40 gold.

Raise the Dead
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Powerful energy is released that reanimates the corpses of your fallen enemies and makes them slaves to your will. Much time and energy is required to learn this powerful spell. Though raising a few corpses is easily accomplished by followers of the Dark, raising an entire army is a different matter and a significant investment is needed to master this spell. (enemy dead raise to bolster your forces)

Dragon Shift
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With much tribute and meditation upon the Dark, followers of the Dark One can learn the power to shift their physical form to that of a mighty dragon. This demoralising and damaging spell will send the stoutest of enemies into route before your mighty power. (enemy bonus rolls are diminished)

Mist of Fear
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A wave of Dark energy washes over the enemy, casting doubt in their heart and opening up chaos in their ranks. With soft whispers of hidden fears in your enemies' ear, the advantage of the battle becomes yours. (you receive a combat bonus)​
 

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A letter to King Kvothe of Kalare, Lord of Norseland and her domains....

Hail lord of Norsia, voice of the All-Father. Fight for my rightful claim for the seat of Honey Hall, stolen from my kin decades ago, and I shall swear fealty to you and become your loyal vassal.

Yours in Service,
Jykon Swift-Foot, the rightful lord of the Shield.
 

parabranko

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Luk'av as he heard the message from this King Ashtul, Lord of the Fallen, he was intrigued and eager to find out what does this Dark Lord wants and what he can offer him. But as Luk'av was not the person of diplomacy, he decided to send his trusted diplomat Brom to go to Black Island and try to find out more about this King Ashtul and if he could be of use to lord Luk'av. Brom was old and wise orc, he served as tribes shaman and Luk'av many times asked him for advice when he needed guidance. Brom has spent his life dwelling to uncover mysteries of magic and was also quite proficient healer and alchemist. In his home he had quite large collection of herbs and potion, which had various effects from healing wounds, sleeping, poisoning and paralyzing. He also possessed gift to convince almost anyone to his point of view and knew well how to use words to his advantage.

Ugor was tall and strong Orc, and possessed much talent in combat but his skills were still raw and unrefined, as well as he was rash and impatient. He still had a lot to learn but showed a lot of promise. He could best all of his peers and sometimes showed cunning and wisdom beyond his age. He was nephew of the dark lord, and Luk'av took him many times with him to teach the boy the skills of the warrior, cunning of generalship, and burden of leadership.
 

alexander23

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Kalare city will have a week long festival in celebration of Kvothe Kalare coronation (This is my diplo order)
 

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Coronations, Festivals and Gathering Dark
Diplomatic Events of First Harvest and Dragoon
Year 1001, Age of the Empire


The Black Island
Answering a summons from the Dark Lord, Luk'av of Bravengard, the Lords, Chieftains, and High Priests gathered to discuss strategy and the coming of the Dark One. The meeting lasted for days, and it is whispered that many of the Dark Priests were impressed by the stratagem of Lord Luk'av and some Chieftains even paid tribute to the Lord.
Infamy earned!
25 Gold Earned!


circlet.jpg

Crowning of Kvothe of Kalare
The nobles, thanes, and warriors of note gathered in Kalare City for the coronation of their King, Kvothe of Kalare. Though the affair was grand and earned tribute from Arls and Jarls from across Norseland, House Kalare could not avoid the talk of much of Norseland that had refused to attend the affair and swear fealty to the new king. Most damning of all, as gifts were brought to the new King, was a glass eye from the Arl of North Shield, obviously a jape at the wound the King endured in the losing battle.
Prestige Lost! ((a subsequent loss of prestige will result in a loss of holding in the G.C.))
10 Gold Earned!


Honoring the Brave
House Coamenel held a festival in their city to honor the brave mir who fought to further the Light in the west. Many Elven nobles from around Galadriel came to pay respects to the dead as well as those still fighting. Respectful and fine affair though it was, an attitude of a dreadful foreboding had settled over the patrons and early optimism gave way to fears of another defeat in the west.
No Prestige Earned!
25 Gold Earned!


Readings in the Dark
The insidious demon-Lord Ra'Gru had ordered his scholars and mages to research the ancient libraries of his new home. Though nothing that would quickly increase the lords power was found, valuable information was discovered that the Dark Priests paid tribute for.
No Infamy Earned!
10 Gold Earned!


New Lands, New Opportunities
A land mass discovered in the Whispering Sea, south of Agorath has seen an influx of settlers from Azeratii. Though colonization is slow for little reward, a mood of optimism among the colonists and Imperials is deep rooted.
Prestige Maintained!
5 Gold Earned!


Releasing the Doves
A wedding ceremony was held in Three Rivers between the Antonius Celestian and Princess Anastacia of Krestarii. The affair was thoroughly joyful and the releasing of the doves occurred without incident. King Asharian himself was able to intend giving Lord Justinus the chance to swear fealty to his new King in person.
Prestige Maintained!
15 Gold Dowry Received!


Zephfer constructs a shrine in Drearagheur, meditates upon the Dark (-10 cost of spells)

House Wolfe has enlisted the aid of 300 Hedge Knights in the battle for the basin, as well as 15 chests of gold in tribute!

House Mindrilla has enlisted the aid of 400 tribal warriors from surrounding Elven Tribes. Tribute was also paid in 20 chests of gold!

For his part in contributing Gold for mercenaries in the battle for the Light Basin, UnderKing Wrothiron is being hailed as a true protector of the Light!
Prestige Earned!
25 Gold Lost!

Neighbouring Arldoms to the Pale were convinced by Jarl Alfdor to send 600 warriors and 5 chests of supplies to aid in the fight against the Dark!

 
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Groogy

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A message from the Pale reaches several Arl's bordering the Jarldom of The Pale.

Q7KFodd.png

To my peaceful neighbors, Vardøhus to the West and Riverheim to the South. I am writing this letter to you to ask for your aid. The Darkness is threatening us all. As well you have the false king Kalare to the west gone mad with power. I pledge to you that I will do everything I can in my power to protect you from the new threat from within our own lands. But for that I beg of you to aid us in the wild.

Signed, Alfödr af Frostsverd, Jarl of The Pale.

(( What do you guys think of my new flag? :D ))
 
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BlackBishop

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A Parlay of Mercenaries and Barbarians

Captain Jacob's army slowly navigated their way down the steppes of Vahamil. The sun had begun to rise and just over the next ridge was the camp of the Lords of Light. Jacob smiled. He was about to become a very rich man. He felt the nagging stare of Heavy Axe. The brute had no concept of money. How could he? He was a simple barbarian and with each passing day in his company, Jacob hated him more and more.

The rising sun was at their backs as they set eyes upon the camp. Eyes unseen had already espied their approach, and the camp was in full alert.

"Heavy Axe, James!" Barked Jacob, "You're with me!" Under a banner of peace, the three men rode out toward the camp, and waited for the welcoming party. Jacob was surprised to find himself being greeted by General Eylinn herself, along with another boy. Girls and boys playing at war. Qylan must be in good humors. To Jacob's annoyance, he saw that they did not bring any chests with them. And what is more, they both had confused looks of wonder about them, wonder and fear. The look was unsettling to Jacob, and reminded him of the looks of lords when they first witnessed his power before Hero's Gate in Azeratii.

The Elf-Lady reigns her horse back. "By the Light! What are you people?!"

The Nord chimes in, "A.... A Hero? As of the Sagas?"

Jacob laughs off their confused stares and spits. "Pah! A hero? Don't make me laugh. Where is my gold?"

Eylinn regains her composure and urges her horse closer. Her eyes are cold, the typical look of snobbery of one addressing her perceived lessers. "Jacob, I presume. We thought you would be late, but this is cutting it a bit close, don't you think?"

The look in her eyes, a look he had upon him so many times in his life made his blood boil. He spat down on the earth. He was in control here, not them. "My Lady," he let mockery ring thick in his voice as he addressed her. "We can discuss my tardiness after I get paid."

"Brother!" Cried Heavy Axe in his barbaric tongue. "We have seen what is coming, we are brothers by the venom. Why must you insist on shiny metal when you know what must be done?" Jacob set him with a gaze that inferred silence.

Eylinn's eyes narrowed. "I believe Lord Wrothiron and Asad have them piled in a convenient carriage at camp. Would you like me to carry the chests for you too, or will you do that for free?"

Jacob couldn't help but smile. She still thinks she is in control. Time to bring her down to my level, let her reek with the baseborns. "You have some fire in you, My Lady, but it hasn't saved you thus far has it? No, this fire has only twisted you, like a frail leaf in the wind, turning this way and that. Me.... My fire is strong." Jacob willed energy to draw him up, looking taller and menacing on his horse, the steed knickered and kicked up on its hind legs as Jacob's grey eyes were replaced by blinding fire. In a moment they were calm again along with his horse. Jacob drew a pipe from his pouch, stuffing it with a brown leaf "heh. My Fire will serve you better, methinks. Best send for that carriage. Now, if you please, My Lady."

Eylinn seemed to shrink before him and sent a guard to collect the gold. Jacob looked at her. He could not deny how good it felt to bring this Elf bitch low. She needs him. More than he needs her, and she knows it. After a few moment past, she finally spoke. "May you indulge me with a few questions, as we wait? I am sure the carriage is heavy and will take its due time to arrive."

Jacob wills the leaf in his pipe to burn and takes a long haul. "Ask... and I may answer." Bitch.

"How could a man so versed in magic so idly chokehold those already battling the Dark One for their money, when he himself surely is well aware the consequences of defeat this day?"

Heavy Axe grunted behind him. It was the Nord that answered the General's question. "Some fight for glory, some fight for lives of others, some fight for pure gold. I guess something in that line Captain?"

Jacob blew smoke rings up over their heads. "You speak wisely, little Lord."

Eylinn blushed and turned to the lad. "F-Forgive me milord, I didn't mean to sound ignorant." She looks back at the Captain "But surely, what good is gold when you're a slave of the impurity that looms yonder?"

The captain's sea-grey eyes pierce into Eylinn's. "Light.... Dark.... Freedom... Slavery.... All words the High Bloods so relish in spewing to lowborns. Tell that to the serf who toils in the fields. Fight for me and you will be fighting for freedom, you all say. Pah! A slave is a slave whether it be for Light or Dark. The one thing that remains constant in this universe is gold."

"Also, when he wins the war, he will be rich enough to retire if he so desires" Says the young Nord.

In his native language, Heavy Axe cursed behind Jacob. "The boy knows you naught, Brother. You have seen what I've seen. You do this not for shiny metal, you know this." Jacob waved his hand and silenced him.

The Nord boy looked upon Heavy Axe. " Captain Jacob, I don't want to insult your honor or leadership. But does these men have the dicipline it takes to fight the horros of the corrupted Elf?"

Spoken like a true Lord. Insults laced with honey. "They were disciplined enough to save you all from Qylan, little Lord."

Eylinn, who seemed to have been attempting to hold her angry tongue, could hold it no longer. "You will lay no claims on my people as serfs again, or I shall cut out that grizzled fucking protrusion you call tongue. To save a slave is to save a life, and clearly that is not held high in your esteem. For you, it seems like lost profit."

Jacob tossed his head back and laughed. "There's that fire again!"

"And it's not even burning yet," sneered Eylinn, "so don't tempt me!"

Jacob took a long look at Eylinn, studying her up and down. She was strong, and passionate. Jacob realized that this was the first Elven lady he had actually ever met. She was different. Perhaps he misjudged her. She reminds me of... A memory unbidden comes to his mind, he quickly pushes it away, and stifles a laugh from happier times. Quickly, he attempts to change the subject. "What of the war plans, My Lady?" Jacob could feel the burning eyes of the Nord boy on him. Seems he did not take kindly to the look Jacob had cast on her.

"By now, Qylan's forces have clearly fortified," begins Eylinn. "We don't know how many they'll be, but all we can hope for is reinforcing the flanks for a greater shock this time. We would have won the last, had it not been for the..." She seemed to lose her words and looks at Freyr through the periferee. "What good could your magic do, Mercenary? You think you could match His?"

He is going to kill her screamed a voice in his head. He is going to kill her and drink her blood! She will be nothing, a corpse. a cold empty corpse. You have seen it! You've seen it in the stone! "I defeated him before in the Assembly," said Jacob, trying his best to sound confident. "I will defeat him again. But we mustn't rely on magic, we should look to tactics to win the day."

Heavy Axe began to speak in the common-tongue behind Jacob. "Snake men fight in front.... Snake men kill many."

Eylinn scoffed. "What tactics do you have against the dead rising, the ears scrambled with fear? What will you do when your Snakemen comes for your own throat? You may ask me, I have good experience in that regard."

Heavy Axe looked at the Elf General with eyes of steel. ""Blessed by the snake juice are the snakemen. Overcome our fear. Long lived beside this land, long fought with dead men. Elf puts us in front. Snakemen kill many."

The steel eyes of Heavy Axe were met with sadness in the Elf. "No fear at all? Would you so willingly stand in the vanguard and take the hardest blow from whatever sinister craft they've stored for you?"

"The Serpent has shown me what waits... Heavy Axe stands in front... Knows what comes should we fail." The barbarian looks coldly at Jacob, the mercenary only looks down.

"They won't stand alone," says the Nord. "Some men have to die in order to win. The Palemen will stand beside them if need be"

Eylinn's sadness became almost palpable as she pleads with the boy. "Don't ask me to send you in the front. Please don't tell me to." Typical of High Bloods, only the help are good enough to fight in the front, while they remain in the rear.

Expecting the boy to yield, Jacob was surprised that he stood his ground. "No soldier should have to follow a man that does not dare to fight alongside them" he looks kindly into her eyes "Don't worry, The Unnamed one won't collect me yet" This must be a Frostverd.

The Lady-General bites her lip and turns her eyes away "Yes, milord."

James, Jacobs chief left-tenant sneered. "Go ahead and put the barbarians in the front. Me, I prefer to live to spend my gold. Where shall we stand, Captain?"

"That is up to our employer." Jacob replied.

Eylinn turns away from the Frostverd boy, facing Jacob. "If your men wish to stand in the vanguard, let it be so. Right next to my own regiment."

How lovely. We shall all die together. Suddenly a sense of foreboding washes over Jacob. An icy hand seemed to grip at his heart.

"I seeeee you!"

Jacob's face turns to ice. "Do you.... do you feel that?"

Blood began to drip from Eylinn's nose. Frostverd drew his sword and reined his horse close to the Lady General. Heavy Axe spins his horse around and gallops back toward the army. With surprising speed, a black cloud sprawls over the sky from the west. Seems Qylan and his Master were not content to wait in the Wastes, and have come for them. " Qylan has come!" Declared Jacob.

Blood dripping down her nose, Eylinn's eyes set upon Jacob. "I guess we will have to meet up with your carriage, Mercenary. We cannot idle here any longer. Will you join us, or not?"

James shifted nervously in his saddle, Jacob looked back to the east. His comfortable bed, his wenches, his taverns...

"This means more to you than a simple transaction. I know it does. I've seen it, and I've felt it, so don't try to lie." Eylinn parted her lips in a smile.

He is going to kill her! He is will drink her blood, eat her soul! Leave her a cold corpse! I have seen it! Jacob sneered. "I am with you to the bitter end."
 

unmerged(473486)

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"Lady, anything else?" asked Karen's aide-de-camp

"That will be it. Make sure the troops and especially the wolf-riders are prepared for the coming ordeal" in a nervous tone, it was obvious that Karen had doubts of the coming battle, but as always, she knew that the light will decide the fate of itself.

"Wolf-Rider!" called Karen, "Send to the Lady-General with my compliments that Wolfen is at her side in this battle"

"Yes Milady" rushed off the rider

in a few minutes.....

The Wolf-Rider observed a peculiar happening, he thought, was he the mercenary? The Barbarian and a rather fine looking human? Well, by the looks of the conversation, indeed was the barbarian and the human. With that curious ponder, the rider quickly delivered the message and returned to Karen.
 

BlackBishop

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War of Shadows

Deep within the haunted forest, a land forever entombed in a whispering mist. The trees seem to echo hidden fears, as all is dark, even in mid-day. It is hear where Agorath's next great conflict shall unfold. A conflict that would come to be named the War of Shadows.

8500 Elves, Fallen and Dark led by their Dark Lord Zephfer, walk solemnly among the root choked trails of the forest. This was their home now. Though the mists may have once been unsettling to the Fallen ones, it was now a comfort to them. A blanket to hide them from enemies, for many enemies roamed this forest. Followers of the Dark though they may be, the beasts within care not for allegiances over their insatiable bloodlust.

One such creature stalked the army now. Shalerth's eyes looked upon them, piercing through the mist. This was her home for much longer than theirs, this was her home when it was a place of beauty and Light, much as she was. Now, much like the forest itself, Shalerth was dark and terrible. She sprang from her rocky precipice, and swooped down over the heads of the army. Arrows bounced off the hard bones of the dragon. She roared a terrible shriek over their heads, swallowing up Elves whole, and sending countless others flying to their deaths with her terrible Dark.

Zephfer, however, was not a Mir to be deterred from a mission. The blood of Meleketh flowed through him afterall. With awesome magic crackling through his fingers, the Dark Lord battled the dragon when most of his men had fled. The dragon would swoop overhead, only to be brought to the ground by Zephfer's magic. Like sharp pulls of gravity, the creature was forced to the ground to take the bite of the Dark Lord's sword. Reeling, with one last roar the dragon retreated to bring news of her defeat to her master.

Several more days of marching gave way to a great ridge that descended to a jagged and twisting valley - the destination of Zephfer and his army. Standing between Zephfer was an army of undead and fallen warriors. At their head was Ra'Gru, blazing eyes peering through a Dark mist. The two forces clashed and a bloody battle ensued. Flying overhead was Shalerth, pouring her Dark down upon the soldiers, gripping Dark Elves in her jaws and draining them of their blood. Zephfer had already wounded the dragon, however, and persisting blasts of Dark sent the creature to oblivion, its bones shattering to the ground to await their re-summoning.

The Dark Lords met in the center of the battle, and exchanged flourish of sword and magic. But the undead had begun to give, and the superior numbers of the Dark Elves had begun to send the Orcs into route. Before the final death blow could be dealt to the Demon-Lord Ra'Gru, he evaporated into mist. The forces of Zephfer, though bloodied, reached their destination and began their search for a hidden power that lay beneath the Haunted Forest.


allan1007bs_06s.jpg

Zephfer is Victorious!
Infamy Gained!
7800/8500 troops remain

Ra'Gru Defeated!
7500/8000 Troops remain
 
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Zex

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Victory over the Green skins
the-war-between-elves-and-orcs-fantsy-pictures-in-full-hd.jpg

During Zepher's march through the Haunted Forest the dreaded Green skins (Orcs) attacked them without provocation, Zephfer could only be thrilled that he wasn't the only bastard to hunt for the book. So with a brave yell he and his Dark Elf forces charged into battle and the battle was glorious, there wasn't any shred of silence but the forest was filled with sounds of swords and magic being thrown around. Allot of Dark Elven soldiers and Green Skins died in battle but the major victory was over Ra Gru's pet dragon, as he blasted the Dragon into oblivion and its bones now lay on the battlefield as a sign that not even a mighty Dragon can kill Zephfer.

DragonvsDragonSlayer.jpg


After the Dragon was slain, both Ra Gru and Zephfer met one on one and both displayed great power as both clashed blades to determine a victor to this now designated civil war between Dark Elfs and Green skins. Though Ra Gru gave his all not even he was able to defeat Zephfer and the power of the Dark Elf King Melekith proved to be more powerful than anyone would of expected, so before the final blow was struck Ra Gru flees into the mist like a coward and Zephfer gave a huge yell and the rest of his men gave a roar of victory for this day. After their rest they continued down the Haunted forest and approached the caverns, Zephfer and his armies finally achieved their goals and have obtained the book after hours of searching within the caverns. Zephfer was then given the book and rubbed the dust off book and he started to feel the tremendous evil and darkness it had within it, as the name appeared from the remaining dust that covered it up it read "Necronomican" Zephfer stood stunned as the book they were looking for was the Necronomican of legend. Zephfer was very pleased and showed his entire army on what they found and they had cheered as well.

Zephfer:"This is a new age for us my brothers! We have beaten the Green Skins, killed their pet dragon and defeated Ra Gru. Now we have also found the Necronomican of legend with this not even an astreal being like Ra Gru cannot stop us, we shall rule with this power and then with its help we can reclaim Galadriel for the Dark Elfs! Now forward my men we shall now return to our homes and celebrate our major victory! But be wary those Green Skins shall attack us again if we let out guard down, this book is important to our goals and I will not lose it to foolishness!"

After Zephfers speech he and his men proceeded out of the cavern and marched back home with moral high and hope for the future.


-Quest Victorious! -Necronomicon Obtained! -Infamy Gained! - 10 Gold Chests Earned!'
 

Bialaska

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A wedding in Three Rivers

Antonius let out a sigh. He had finally returned to Three Rivers, and now he felt he was almost being led to his execution. Today was his wedding day, horray… Not much to celebrate, really, because Antonius never really had an interest in marriage.

He frowned when he thought of his new bride. She had given birth to a child outside of wedlock, a bastard born of the rape committed by the orc Ra’Gru, was what his father had told him. While Antonius enjoyed the company of a great variety of women, he never forced himself upon them. He guessed that Anastanii was actually quite attractive, from the little he had seen her, but he just preferred having some freedom. Sadly such was not to be for a man of high noble birth.

As he was brought to the alter of the Creator, a priest residing over the ceremony, he glanced around. A few familiar faces and a lot of new faces. He recognized the newly crowned king and some of the members of house Krestarii. He could not help but feel sad for King Asharian, having his daughter defiled in such a way. If something similar ever happened to Antonius’ own sister, he would have gone on a quest to slay the rapist, giving it the most painful death.

He heard the cages opening and then with a bit of detachment watched as the doves were released. And it was at this point that his future wife was brought in. He forced a smile on his face, although inside he was feeling more and more uncomfortable. Only a small ceremony to go and he would no longer be a free man, but instead trapped in the bonds of matrimony.

And then it was over, a few words of agreement and he was now a married man, no longer permitted by the Creator to find joy with other women, but trapped with one woman until the day one of them should die. While many might mistake the tears running from Antonius eyes for joy, it was in fact because he thought of all he had lost.

Of course Antonius could not even drown himself in the booze on this day of sorrow, though he would of course have to try at the feast. Yet he knew his father was watching him like a hawk, to make sure he would be able to do the husbandly duties.

P1060485.jpg


As the feast was about to start, there was another announcement. His father approached King Asharian, bend his knee and then swore allegiance. And after that the feast began. As Antonius studied his young bride, he could see that she was just as uncomfortable as he was. It was obvious that she too had been forced into this, a political marriage to strengthen and forge alliances between the families.

After the feast and the customary dancing, Antonius brought his young bride to his chambers…
 
Last edited:

BlackBishop

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Dreagon Rises
Part I


awesome-hd-fantasy-art-wallpaper-18_1657395737.jpg

Qylan sat atop his great black steed at the head of his army, surveying the enemy beyond. Though he had hoped to gain the element of surprise by marching into the Wilds to seek out the Light army, he found that they were well prepared for a possible attack. As the armies began to march toward each other, Qylan saw that he was outnumbered. The Lords of Light had sent a good number of reinforcements and he sensed Jacob was among them as well. Qylan turned to face his own army. Lord Luk'av had sent his warrior Ugor with 4000 swords and they waited in ambush to the south, and Zephfer had dispatched a token force of 1500. And where was his brother? Where was Ra'Gru? Qylan's mouth tightened and he turned back toward the approaching army. Raising his hand, he ordered the march.

"We are outnumbered," said Qylan aloud. "They have Jacob. We may not win this battle."

A voice hissed within his mind. "They will fall. It is His will."

Qylan's golden eyes flashed with Dark, snuffing out the brilliant gold of his pupils. A blackened mist came out of the ground, and rolled ahead of Qylan's advancing forces. Qylan's lips curled up in a smile as the whispering mist rolled over the front ranks of the Light Army. With a glare to his bannermen, King Ashtul's fallen cavalry charged toward the trembling enemies beyond the mist. The horses disappeared into the fog. The sound of battle rang out in the mist, cries of men and clash of steel. The slow march of Qylan and his infantry continued.

The smile of Qylan faded as a sight he did not expect appeared before him. Horses, bloodied and riderless and mad, screamed out of the mist. Qylan bared his fangs. The mist dissipated to reveal the bodies of the Fallen Calvary and standing over them, brutish barbarians he did not recognize.

"Who are they?" Asked Qylan.

The inner voice hissed. "Snakemen of the Wildssss...."

Qylan's contingent of infantry, a mix of Dark Elves, Orcs, Undead and Fallen Men clashed with the front ranks of the Light Army. Looking overhead, the smile of Qylan returned as dragons broke through the black clouds overhead. They roared in the air as their dreadful wings flapped over the heads of the embattled armies. They spewed Dark down upon the rear ranks of the Light Army. Qylan could sense a void of Dark in the battle ahead. He sneered as a rush of Light shot up in the air, blasting the dragons out of the sky, the black clouds broke and the sun shone through. He snapped the reins of his horse and along with his Dark Priests, he rushed into the battle.

Men's bodies burst in blood and gore as Qylan cut a bloody swath through the ranks of the Lords of Light. If felt like he was riding a wave, and the rush of soldiers and weapons steered the Dark Lord to a place beyond his will. He found himself unhorsed and facing a hulking man, a great serpent tattooed across his skin along with smears of blood. The great man roared at Qylan, "Come at me!" Qylan obliged.

As Qylan charged he found himself outside of his body, watching from above, no longer in command of his own limbs, it was another force altogether that controlled him. An ancient force, dark and terrible. "No!" Pleaded Qylan, hating this familiar feeling of helplessness as the terror took hold of his body.

"Yessss!" It hissed.

Qylan could now only watch as the barbarian let loose with a mighty roar. Answering the charge of the Vampire Lord with an upthrust of his axe. Qylan's body was too quick and easily dodged the blow, and shadows had split from his mortal form and now surrounded the barbarian. His eyes clouded and blurry, the hulking man swatted away the ethereal forms with his axe. "Show yourself!" Hollered the Barbarian in an ancient language. "I fear no fallen elf!"

The Vampire Lord circled the barbarian, hissing the same language in his ear. "I smell your blood." The axe fell upon a phantom.

"Run you fool!" Pleaded Qylan, unheard. "You know nought what you face!"

"The blood of Berein is in you... How your once proud people have fallen."

The great axe sung through the air, finding nothing. "That's right Elf! I am of the blood of Berein, long have we fought your kind, and long have we stood! We will not falter now!"

A crackle of deep horrible laughter ripped through the air, seeming to come from some other plane of existence. "I cast you out of your home, blessed it with my power! And now my victory is complete. Your kind have eluded me since the Age of Darkness, Now your blood will be mine!"

The barbarian answered with another swing of his axe, catching only air. "You know nothing, Qylan the Fallen!"

"It's not me you fool!" Screamed Qylan, unheard.

"Qylan?" Laughed the power. "Look upon me, blood of Berein, look upon my true form."

The barbarian stilled his axe, his eyes wide with fear as the power showed itself.

"Say my name.... SAY IT!"

"Dreagon." In a blur, the man's head was torn from his body and thrown up in the air.

The Vampire Lord, with Qylan watching helplessly trapped in his mind, continued his warpath across the battlefield.
 

BlackBishop

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Dreagon Rises
part II


Qylan looked down at the mountain of bodies he now stood upon. The power of Dreagon was a terrible thing to behold, and now with his bloodlust sated the Vampire Lord returned his body. It seemed that Dreagon has some old grudge against the Snakemen, looking down he saw that the dead who lay below him, all bore the tattoos of the Wildmen.

The former ArchMage remembered reading a dusty old tomb of the fate of the Beren Kingdom of men, which had resided in the Haunted Forest before it's fall in the Age of Heroes. It was hard to fathom that the bloodline still existed in within the tribe of these Wildlings. Qylan's thoughts returned to the present. He thrust his sword in the air and hollered out a challenge to the Lords of Light. "To me! Face your death bravely and a quick one I will award you!"

His eyes pierced through the death around him to find the Lady-General Eylinn. "Qylan! Stop this!" She pleaded. The fool! Has she learned nothing! With one fell swoop I have freed our people and she expects me to turn from this power! Qylan slowly descended the pile of bodies. Beside her stood Jacob and an imperial woman. A grin formed on his fell face as the trio were beset by a charge of Dark Priests. Jacob and the woman disappeared in the carnage, leaving the Elf-girl all alone. To his left, as he approached the girl, Qylan saw the banner of Kalare. The Nords were approaching, but they would not make it in time, Qylan knew. Qylan let the Dark flow in his veins, feel it flash in his eyes and every fiber in his being. He charged.

An arrow from her bow sung less then an inch from Qylan's face and a wall of flames tore up from the earth. The Dark Lord jumped through her pathetic attempt at magic to face her blade. Dreagon watched from behind Qylan's eyes, letting his fell voice ring in the air. "You shall not defeat me again! My time is now!" Qylan parried the quick strikes of the general and thrust his blade to her belly. She darted backward in a flash and shot in arrow for him to dodge. Thrusting forward, Qylan caught her blade with the edge of his, sparks flying the sword-edge strikes down her blade to her pummel, breaking her elven blade. Qylan's lips curl up to bare his fangs, and he snatches the girls throat in his claws, lifting her up in the air.

He hears the cry of the Nords nearby, and the heat from their failing magic. His Dark priests form a column to protect their lord from the charging Light warriors.

Tears well up in Eylinn's face, her lips turning blue as he squeezes the lift from her throat. "No... I don't...." How can I make you understand, girl? I will show you.

"You cannot have her!" Boomed a voice. Qylan looked up from the general's throat. Jacob blasted the line of priests into the air and charged at Qylan. The Dark Lord sneered and tossed Eylinn the ground, facing his attacker. A swarm of orcs, the fresh levies swarm over them, the Lords of Light gathering around their fallen general as she coughs and sputters.

Qylan found himself back within his cell as Dreagon took over once more. No! The girl was almost mine!

"I won't let you have her, damn your lies in the stone!" A mighty flourish of Jacobs sword made Dreagon falter and fall back. Orcs, attempting to surround Jacob were beset by the flanking Nords and chaos and death reigned supreme in the bloody battle. Jacob pulsed with a blinding light, the flash was answered by the gathering dark that swirled around them.

"Fool! You have now power here, so close to mine home!"

"You will not have her! You will not drink her blood, eat her soul, leave her a cold withered corpse!"

"I will! It is destiny!"

Tears streamed down Jacobs face as blasts of energy fired into the Vampire Lord, only to be swallowed up by the surrounding mist and spewed out as Dark blasts. "Noooo! You cannot have her!"

The creature laughed as the mist enveloped Jacob, wrapping its Dark tentacles around the sobbing mercenary, now on his knees, bloody and fallen.

"Please.... not my daughter."

"Yessss your daughter. I will drink her blood. Devour her soul and leave her a cold withered corpse... The line of Ecclesiasties will fall!"

Jacob's scream was cut off by a thunderous silence.
 
Last edited:

BlackBishop

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The Battle of the Vahamil Steppe

orc-battle-992x624-600x377.jpg

The Orcs of Bravengard charge the Wolfen Lines​

Before the camp of the Lords of Light upon the Vahamil Steppe within the Wilds, the forces of Lady-General Eylinn of Mindrilla and Qylan the Fallen clash, despite the attempts of House Celestian to slow their advance. Though the powerful magic of Jacob turns the tide and the army was able to stand in resistance to Qylan's Dark, the sheer ferocity of the Dark army sends the Light Army into route.

Rather then face the prospect of retreating back to Hroniden, the Light Army elects to seek safety within a fortified ruin held by Sultan Saladin, who had spent the previous winter fortifying the old ruin.

Rather then face a long siege and upon hearing rumours of happenings to the west, Qylan retreats from the Wilds and returns to the Light Basin.

Upon seeing to their wounded, a dreadful discovery is made. Among the fallen men of the Dark Army were vampires, who had infected much of the wounded combatants with their disease and Jacob was taken prisoner by Qylan and his entire company wiped out.



Light Army Defeat!

Jacob's Company
0/5000 Troops led by Captain Jacob MIA
House Saxon
5000 Troops led by Gilbert Von Danzig DEAD
House Coamenel
5000/5300 Troops led by Tuor Sáralondë
House Wolfe
5100 troops led by Karen Burnside Wounded - Vampirism (1 turn before vampire)
House Celestian
4800/6000 Troops
House Frostverd
4900/5400 Troops led by Jarl Alfodr of Frostverd + 600
House Rostani
5400/5600 Troops led by Maraj Faram Wounded - Vampirism (1 turn before vampire)
House Światowida
4500/5100 Troops
House Kalare
6500/7200 Troops led by King Kvothe of Kalare
House Mindrilla
5300/5800 Troops led by Therain Eylinn + 400
House Deagrin
2500/3100 Troops led by Underking Wrothiron
House Krestarii
5900/6300 Troops led by Lord-Commander Tretarian Ploshati DEAD
House Ayyubid
6700/6900 Troops


Dark Army Commanded by Qylan the Fallen
34 300
Huaindren Army
1100/1500
Bravengard Army commanded by Ugor of Bravengard
2900/4000

((going to need a couple days to get caught up on stats before a new round of orders... in the meantime feel free to come up with an IC of your results this turn))

((EDIT: I will have a quest proposal dealing with the cure for Vampirism at the beginning of the next turn))
 
Last edited:

Fingon888

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The Life of a Man Named Gilbert

Gilbert had heard that Jutarian was in the camp for a brief meeting with the Krestarii commander, so he thought he would go and see him. He found his tent and pushed into it. “Hallo Jutarian!”

“What are you doing here Sir Gilbert?” Jutarian said, with a little bit of hostility.

Undeterred by this Gilbert sat in the chair next to Jutarian and continued the conversation, “I just wanted to say hello.”

“Why would you possibly want to talk to me?” Jutarian asked. He was getting annoyed, after such a long ride he was quite tired.

“Have you forgotten that we used to be sort of friends, I guess.”

“And when were we friends?”

“You know, when we would all go tromping through the woods with Wilhelm and Johann.” Gilbert playfully punches Jutarian in the shoulder. He laughed and turned away, not noticing Jutarian slightly rub his shoulder.

"Oh, then. I miss those carefree days…”

“Great days those were. Now we have to kill things, huh?”

“I prefer not to kill things. There are far better ways to settle disputes for me. Besides, I have never been very good with a sword…”

Gilbert laughed, “Oh Wotan… Johanna was better than you if I remember correctly.”

Jutarian quickly objected to that, “She was not. She could barely hold the thing!”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that Brother.” Gilbert said as he got and grabbed a cup and a bottle of wine. He then sat back down and began pouring himself a cup of wine.

“Well there are certainly some things she is much better at than sword play…”

“Oh and what would that be?” Gilbert asked, drinking his wine.

“Well there are certain things the two of us do… things that Wilhelm would be horrified to hear about.” Jutarian said, a smirk appearing on his face.

Gilbert laughs, “Always the ladies’ man. Jutarian, the conqueror of brothels and defiler of whorehouses!”

“Hey, I have never been to a brothel or a whorehouse! I like my women to have class and sophistication.” Jutarian said with a self-righteous smile.

“Indeed. I never thought Johanna would end up with you. How many other women have you had since the grand old wedding?” Gilbert asked, knowing just how to offend Jutarian.

It worked. Jutarian’s face immediately twisted in anger and he clenched his fist. “I love Johanna, and I would never do anything to hurt her.”

Gilbert smirks, his mission accomplished. “Of course not Brother. I would never suggest something like that.”

“Besides you should not have been surprised by our marriage. Our fathers were planning since the two of us were born.” Jutarian stated, in that peculiar way of his, namely making perfectly normal phrases sound asshole-esque.

“Ja, whatever.” Gilbert than looks around him and leans in to get close to Jutarian. “Anways, I have been detecting increased levels of hostility towards me lately. Why?”

“You seem to attempt to undermine me. Besides, Wilhelm and I have not been nearly as close since, YOU entered in..." Jutarian stated with hate in his words.

Gilbert’s eyes narrowed at these words, “Since I entered in? What exactly do you mean by that?”

Jutarian looked almost appalled by Gilbert’s idiocy. He stared back at him and said, “You know exactly what I mean.”

“So you think I just swaggered in, picking Wilhelm up and sweeping him away from you? No, do you want to hear a story?” Gilbert asked, dead serious.

“Sure, I quite enjoy stories.” Jutarian said, once more earning the title of asshole.

“One time when I was 15 a few days before I confessed to Wilhelm, I walked up to one of the tall towers of Saxon Castle. I climbed to the top, crying the whole time. I got up on the window and I sat there for about twenty minutes. I remember saying to myself, ‘You aren’t good enough for him or anyone. You might as well jump, no one will miss you. You should do it, you fucking marchtfritz (Saxon derogative term for homosexual people). You don’t deserve to even be near him.’ All of those things I said to myself sitting on that tower.” Gilbert stops to wipe a tear. “So I was about to jump when I looked around me, sort of like one last look at the land I love. I saw the vast field with the small men tilling the earth and hawks catching prey while wolves howled through the trees. It was so beautiful. I thought maybe life is worth living for this, for all the beauty. So I got down and I decided then and there that I wouldn’t give up. I chose to say no to society and to say yes to my heart.” Gilbert finished with an angry and sad look in his eyes.

Jutarian just sat there, far too shocked to respond to the words being thrown at him.

“So before you judge me, think about what I have gone through.”

“I had no idea…” Jutarian said, sliding down into his chair.

"So do you have anything to say?” Gilbert asked, taking quite a large sip of wine.

“I just don’t understand…”

“Understand what?”

“I’ve never felt that way…” Jutarian sort of mumbled.

“Never hated yourself? Never thought the world would be better off with you dead?” Gilbert asked, emptying his wine.

“Never hated myself. I have felt that I serve no purpose before, but that has been rectified by the fact that I am now the heir to a great kingdom"

“We are not so different you and I. Food for thought Brother.” Gilbert stood up and began exiting the tent.

“Farwell then Sir von Danzig. Also, one last thing. I do like to be referred to in the proper way.” Jutarian said to standing man.

“Oh yes you have a title now don’t you Jutarian?” Gilbert said as he turned around.

“Prince. I am to be referred to as your royal highness. People also bow to royalty.”

Gilbert bows in a theatrical manner, “Good day your royal highness.” Gilbert then turned and gave Jutarian the bird as he left the man’s tent.



All around him the battle raged. Orcs, men, and elves all killing each other. Somehow the ranks had been broken. So now Gilbert had to fight the enemy one-on-one. He blocked an axe that was meant for his head with his shield and then ended the orc's life with his longsword. He moved forward and parried an undead warrior's sword. He moved to the left and swung his sword, biting into the skeleton's skull. Gilbert kicked the creature down and quickly stabbed the elf that was running at him. His friends were being cut down, left and right. The enemy was pushing hard and it looked like Gilbert's troops were about to break.

A large orc with a double handed hammer ran towards Gilbert as he was commanding his men to hold. He barely blocked the hammer blow, but in the process dented his shield beyond use. Gilbert quickly dropped the shield and dove forward, cutting the orc's hamstring in the process. When the orc fell Gilbert plunged his dirk, which he was now holding in his left hand, into the orc's neck. Gilbert heard the roar of another orc behind him and he barely dodged the spear thrust that was aimed for him. He sprung up and thrust his sword into the orc's rib cage. As he was pushing the orc's corpse to the ground he was hit with a mace in the side.

The pain was intense. Gilbert stumbled to the side, but prepared himself to face his attacker. Standing there was a man, corrupted by the power of the dark. He was holding a mace and was wearing a helmet that covered his face. He laughed at Gilbert and pulled up his helmet. It was a man named Kirk von Kirekgard. Kirk had known Gilbert as a child and he was the bully of Saxon province. Gilbert remembered being called a "frilly marchtfritz" every time he saw Kirk. So now they would finally face each other.

"Hey marchtfritz, it looks like you haven't gotten any less girly. You should be taking someone's manhood up your ass, not fighting on the battlefield!" Kirk yelled at Gilbert.

Gilbert ran at Kirk swung at him. Kirk blocked the sword with his shield and swung at Gilbert. Gilbert jumped to the right and was able to dodge the blow. Gilbert then charged the man, parrying his mace on the way. Gilbert's dirk dug into flesh.

"I do the fucking up the ass." Gilbert growled as he pulled his dirk out to stab Kirk in the neck. However Kirk grabbed Gilbert's hand and kneed him in the stomach. Gilbert let go of the dirk and reeled back.

"Ha, I knew you were a marchtfritz the moment I saw you. Who is lucky man, huh?" Kirk taunted as he punched Gilbert in the jaw.

Gilbert fell back onto the hard earth. His head was spinning and his side was aching with an intense, unbearable pain. Probably quite a lot of internal bleeding. The dust was in his eyes, but he could still see Kirk von Kiekgard approaching him. Kirk grabbed a spear off the ground and then put a foot on Gilbert's chest.

"Can't you hear me asking you a question, marchtfritz?" Kirk asked with venom in his words.

"You don't deserve an answer, beast." Gilbert spat out, getting some more blood on Kirk.

Gilbert suddenly felt a sharp pain and the feeling of a metal object cutting into his stomach and intestines. The world was getting darker but all he could think about was Wilhelm, his beautiful face and his blond hair. He looked at the angry Saxon standing over him. He laughed at Kirk, knowing his powers.

"He is the best man in this world and he will be just fine without me. However, you are going to die now." Gilbert said as he grabbed Kirk's leg and then completely froze him.

Gilbert felt his chest, the blood was seeping out through the wound. He looked at his crimson hands and thought about how cute this would as a fabric color. Yes, he had a strange sense of humor. Gilbert then continued thinking about Wilhelm, would he really be okay without him? Would he try to do the same thing Gilbert was going to do when he was 15? Gilbert thought he wouldn't. "No... Wilhelm is too good for that. He was always a better person than me. I didn't deserve such a good man. Hey, I know what I'll do." Gilbert mumbled.

He then put his hand on the ground and wrote on it using the frost, frost that the heat of the ages would not remove for a hundred years. Satisfied with his work Gilbert fantasized about playing in the river with Wilhelm and kissing his partially chapped lips under the pine trees back home in Saxon. He remembered running through the woods, holding his hand and climbing a tree to sit in Wilhelm's lap in the upper branches. They would sit there for hours, with Wilhelm mumbling sweet things into his ears. Gilbert would only let go of Wilhelm's hand on this trips when absolutely necessary. It almost felt like Wilhelm was laying next to him, holding his hand now. "By Wotan, I certainly love that boy." That was the last thought that Gilbert von Danzig had on the land of Agorath.



Wilhelm ran over to where he saw a glittering frozen creature. Surrounded by the dead of friend and foe alike lay the dead body of Gilbert von Danzig. Upon seeing his lover with a spear through his chest, Wilhelm fell to the ground clutching his shirt with his hands as tears rolled down his face. "No... This isn't real! This isn't fucking real!" Wilhelm yelled.

It was then he saw it. On the ground was a message written in ice. Wilhelm crawled over to it and read it,

Wilhelm, the only man I ever loved,
Riding his horse through fields of wheat he captured my heart,
Running through the trees we danced and kissed,
The man who was too good for me,
but loved me for who I am,
Live long and prosper my love,
Remember me well.
Gilbert