A depiction of the new-found tunnels.

The sun upon Almaris fell for the last time as the descendant forces valiantly stood below their final walls. At the sound of marching soldiers, flapping wings, and Mori war cries, the descendants fired their best cannons and swung their sharpest swords.

Upon the westernmost part of the city, many stood brave upon their hill and did their best to defend themselves against cannons and beasts, though they soon fell back to their inner wall. Likewise, the eastern defends of the city bravely fought the beaches until blood magic storms forced them back towards their wall and palace. Those at the front of the city held the bridge and decimated countless Torathi before falling back to the inner gate and then the palace.

While countless huddled together within the palace, the outer walls of the city quickly began to get overrun. Perhaps by a spark of luck though, as one titanic beast ripped through the walking castle parked behind the palace, the ground on which they stood began to shake, and soon after the floor gave in. Falling into an old sewer, the descendants quickly discovered an abandoned tunnel by the Mori and upon entering it they soon found a safe and long-forgotten region that they could call home for now.

It seems the descendants had traded their previous lands with the Mori - whether it was a good trade was yet to be learned.

The World Falls

A depiction of San Luciano and what few boats remain.

To all within our realm,

The defenses of your cities and territories within your land have dealt many losses against the Mori hordes, but we must acknowledge that they are running out of targets and we are running out of cities to defend. It is in our best interest to condense solely upon San Luciano. The Mori armies grow with incredible strength and cities seemingly untouched now will soon be destroyed without guaranteed means of escape for their citizens.

To remain in your dwellings is to die.

My brothers have again embarked on a journey into the waters to secure a means of escape, though we have not heard back from them. We assure you that this is not a viable method to leave. We must dig in our heels and get ready our final battle, the time may soon be upon us. The time to flee is gone, prepare your blades.

Majid,
Brother of Brev

[Map End - Final Event: Saturday the 20th. 4:30PM EST at Savoy.]

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-=-

As the sun remained high above the sky, on the opposite side of the world those in the depths of the Urguani Caves managed a hard-fought battle with the Mori forces which aimed to drive them out of their lands. 

The brave dwarves at the front of their city managed to slaughter swarms of bugs before eventually falling to the inner gate and deploying their vicious traps in an attempt to prevent further Mori pushes into the city. Those in the Temple of the Worldmaker meanwhile delayed countless hordes of spiders and other knights as they fought within melee range of their barricades, though even their best efforts were soon bested by those horrible attackers and the Mori tunnelers.

Thankfully for the dwarves, their grit and determination aided them as they held the front gates and prevented them from falling so easily, saving countless lives in the process. The East had begun to fall.
 

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The West Falls

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Although the descendant forces of Krugmar and Celianor slaughtered countless Mori, at the end of the day they were overtaken by the immense forces, though it was not without inflicting many losses upon them. As the people of Celianor were taken away via a boat of Brev, those of Krugmar fled their capital on foot while their Rex took a last stand. 

Once the capitals were clear of all descendant forces a sinister ritual began to occur, and quickly after the rest of the world descended into darkness as the sky above broke away. There was truly no safe space that the Mori could not touch - besides from Savoy. While the rest of the world descended into darkness, those golden sands continued to shine brightly as the sun above was never shrouded.

Those who had lost their lands quickly reclaimed areas within the ruins so that their societies could continue on despite the hard losses. If nothing else, the descendants knew how to survive in rough times.

Despite the new home for some - others had decided to weather the storm… at least for as long as they could, though those left in the north knew they were next.
 

As the sun rose gently across the plains of Almaris, it seemed as if it would be a typical day. As the day progressed though, a terrifying scene would take place…

First, above Urguan, the skies and rock shook so violently that even the deepest of dwarves within the stone could feel the vibrations of such large tremors. The voidally tainted lands of Celianor were next, as even their farms outside of the city soon were clouded by such devious clouds. Finally, the neighboring realm of the orcs fell victim as even their brightest campfires appeared to be a bit duller against the blackened sky.

As the clouds collected above all three cities, the sky seemed to break away and detach from the land in which it had previously sat above. In its place, large and dark fractures lingered above, blocking all light from the sun which had previously shined upon their lands.

To the denizens of the realm, 

We bring news. My brothers and I were delivered to this place by your kin in the hopes that we might aid in your fight. As we establish ourselves in what remains of San Luciano, we have observed changes in your waters. All our expeditions sent into the beyond have not returned, and so it is determined the seas are no longer safe. Those who intend to sail away in search of safer lands invite their own demise. There is no running from this threat.

For the lost and wayward, the descendants whose homes have fallen to this scourge, we welcome you to the Bastion of San Luciano. It may be one of the last safe places on this continent. 

Majid,
Brother of Brev

[!] Directions are affixed below:
[-296, 111, 2186]

Story Event 

Information

The descendants prepared once more, at the first toll of war, to defend their soil. Covered in spiked-coil walls, guzzoline smeared floors, wooden barricades and siege-workshops, the descendant races worked swiftly to prepare against the onslaught of conquerors deigning to steal their lands.

A flock of Amaethean soldiers and citizens took up arms in the throne-room, prepared to defend their mighty Citadel in a last-charge; patriotic elves wishing to put an end to the malice attempting to claim their lands. They were joined by those of Xan upon a steam-powered boat, pumping cogs and spinning wheels. 

To the farmlands, those uruk of the mighty Horde, and the dark elves of Nor’asath stood fierce upon the walls. Large palisades were manned by throw-away mannequins to fool the mori-flock. They gifted the square with a shamanic totem to increase the fortitude of their canons, and stood proud with ranged weaponry.

And the front gate was designated to the citizens and templars of Barrowton, who answered the call of aid from their homelands far off into the east. Furthermore, a covenant of voidal mages employed by Celia’nor imparted their aid to those present in the gates. Stout dwarves of Urguan manned the mechanisms of cannons, laying fire onto the mori horde.

Crimson clouds rolled over Amaethea, tearing away the skies; the conquest had begun. Fierce hours saw bloodshed and cruelty, where arachnid chittered and gnaps - the clansmen of mori sending siege-fire, invading through breaks in the walls, and commanding vile beasts. 

The blood hydra - though not frequent in his appearance - taunted the descendants from high-above, wreaths of dragonsflame melting down cobble houses, bloody saliva conjuring dread-knights, and acid gorging through steel. 

However, the descendants were not without victory; they felled beast after beast, and mori after mori. Yet, it seems that the forces were far too large - and overwhelming. They flooded each gate and entrance, pushing back the descendants towards the docks. 

Ships awaited to sail, but Vlos - the tyrannical hydra - did not wish to allow their escape. If it was not for the gift of Amatheon to punish it, as vines latched around the three whipping heads, and verdant energies caused them to be ripped from their heads. 

As descendants cheered in triumph of the hydras apparent death, its heads began to regenerate - fierce lashing of six feral heads; Vlos was no more, now but a hungered beast fleeing to safety in the distance. The gates broke through, and walls shattered, as the impending mori forces rushed over. However, the descendants made safe evacuation to their homelands. And the lands were left blotted by cobwebs and arachnids to infest the terrain. 

In the distance, the sound of chittering insectoids, whispers of a forlorn tongue, and the triumph of the mori revels. Their presence has now been assured on the continent, forever laying claim to the forestry and kingdom of Amaethea. 

The Amaethean region is currently being altered and the capital tile is being locked in 2-3 days. Please remove all items or try to log in and move away from the region, or else you will get bugged in. 

OOC:-

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=-=

Under a warm spring sun, the descendants of Almaris went about their day as they pleased, oblivious to the fate that would soon befall them. There was nothing to herald the cracks which suddenly tore open the sky, resulting in thunder which shook the very earth. Pots crashed on the floor and children fell to their knees as sunlight intensified in the sundered sky, straining to reach the land through those fractures. Dark clouds began to roll in, bringing with them an instinctual sense of foreboding.

The stone citadel trembled within the Hinterlands from the force of the splitting sky, the tremors somehow intensified in the land of elves. The light of day flickered as that storm rolled in, thick shadows quickly obscuring the dawn. The city of Amaethea was plunged into night, along with other splotches of land throughout the realm, though it soon became obvious that such was no natural phenomenon.

A symphony of crickets began to pick up, and owls took to the dim sky in search of their next meal. But something was wrong, and it did not take long for nature to catch on. The moonflowers would not bloom, for no such glow reached their petals. No stars twinkled in the night sky. Flora strained for any source of light as they began to starve, fauna cowered in their nests for fear of the unknown. 

Complete darkness had fallen on Elvenesse and soon after, Dobrov. Calamity had begun.
 

RED CLOUDS OVER AMAETHEA

Story Event

Amaethea; the kingdom built on groves of forests blossomed by great trees and louring humps of grassy hills. From above, translucent rivers unpolluted by mechanisms or blight ran free into the vast connecting ocean. Ships lay peaceful in their path, importing fresh supplies of food, or being simple means of transportation for migrants. 

From the outside, it seemed to be at peace. Yet, peace was never an option for those who lay in the continent of Almaris. Time and time again, mortals fled from great evils and beasts. It was not the presence of large armies, but singular entities wielding ungodly powers.

It was different this time. It was slow.

Those living in Amaethea came to notice the distant stalking in the shadows; paranoia of never being left alone. In the shadows, in their homes, under their very feet. Scuttling of insectoids, or the squeaking of vermin - it became a constant message of appraisal. 

And then came the labyrinth.

Caves and entrances started to randomly appear around their soils, burrowed into hillsides veiled without purpose. Adventurers came across them, and entered to find treasures or learn of the secrets within. 

HORROR.

They did not come out of the caves. And those who did kept silent, infested by cobwebs, covered in verdant goop and acid. It festered like poison in their minds, the images of great arachnids -. .  and the crimson scales. 

VLOS! VLOS! As mortals once did, the Amaethean road was torn open by great scales. All could witness the yapping of three giant heads, and wings that struck like a beating drum - singing a throng of death. Its claw ripped out trees, and fled to the north.

“. . . sustenance. . .- to be. .  devoured. .”

EVENT SCHEDULE

TIMES

The Coastal Landing; 

A group of Amaethean allies plan on landing onto their coastal town. However, their journey is disrupted across the seas. 

Date: 16th of March 2023 - 6PM EST

Event Slots: Locked - filled. 

Coastal Town - Defence; 

The coastal town nearest the Amaethean roads plans to be invaded by the abundance of foul creatures. 

Date: 4th of April 2023 - 6PM EST

Event Slots: 0/50 - link in discord

Conquest of Amaethea; 

Amaethea will be conquested by this unknown force, surged by creatures and an ancient race lost to the undergrowth. 

Date: 7th of April 2023 - 6PM EST

Event Slots: Unlimited (for now)

Discord: https://discord.gg/MBcb7daWUK