A Message To The Adherence

[WuHanXianShi14 0]

 

Squelching sounds of steel on mud as the Elves of Leyulin marched through the swamp alongside the Company of the Wolf. A "cease fire", the Adherence had called for, a cease fire they would not get.

 

The chant of the elves echos eerily through the air as they approach the cursed fortress.

"Cernunnos guides us. For his hand steers our blades, and his breath makes our arrows strike true."

 

The commander steps forth as they approach the gate, pulling out a gleaming key. The mark of a traitor within the ranks of the Adherence. He slides it into the lock of the iron door and sure enough, it opens. The force marches in.

 

The lich was the first to notice, as his raspy cry calls for aid from his fellow Adherence atop the battlements. The elven contingent locks shields below, while the stoic commander climbs up the battlements.

 

Not invisible perhaps, but near vanished did he turn, a faint mist and distortion in the air all that was visible of Chancellor Artimec as his form slithered behind the unwary lich.

"For Cernunnos guides my blade."

And the living skeleton was no more.

 

The mercenaries of the wolf were the first to climb up onto the battlements after Artimec, followed by the Elves of the Ivory Order. Together they nocked longbows and arbalests, taking position behind cover as cultists poured out beneath them.

 

The Gravelord Keragore was the first to approach, shouting swaggering comments about the inferiority of mortals. Aurum arrows of elven make, and bolts from Wolfman's arbalests embedded themselves in it's helmet.

The Gravelord was no more.

 

The Ivory Order descended from the battlements and charged. There were cultists of flesh and blood, regular descendants gone down a path of evil. They were just that, flesh, and they were cut down easily.

 

From across a bridge a shriek was heard, a suit of cursed steel held together by nothing but an empty soul. It's weighted body charged the elves, whom formed a prompt phalanx.

Laureh'niut Duvaindir held the line, while Alakagh the mali'ker circles behind, smiting the being with a sword of holy make.

The Dreadknight was no more.

 

It was the Mercenaries of the wolf who found the prisoner. The wood elf known as 'Chi Kaku' whom the Adherence had so cockily enslaved. The grateful elves of the order paid with what money they had for the help of the mercenaries this day.

 

And so they marched home, with a trail of blood behind him. Dozens of cultists, among other unholy creatures destroyed as they made their way back to Leyulin with no casualties.

 

Should any in Embermoor survive, or return after the battle, a note would have been pinned to the demanifested helmet of the Gravelord.

 

"You started this war. We will end it with your blood."

[Icecreeper4 100]

Echoing amongst the trees of Embermoor- through eldritch ruins and down inbetween the many forgotten skeletons residing within the swamps of Embermoor, a voice laughs deeply and endlessly through the night.

[Baconthief 682]

"Ancestor's willed it"

 

Mizziyrn would spend the eve after battle before his clan's ancestral shrine, giving thanks and asking for his blade to continued to be guided by the spiritual forces of his ancestors.

[VampsWillDie 76]

Gwen, having feigned death, and had her weapons looted, sits up on the walls, pale, wobbly, glancing around as the aftermath sets in. She stumbles around, and giggles weakly, making her way to a bed.

[HardstyleRaver2 56]

"For the ancestors!" cried Alakagh as he raised the enchanted blade, which killed the Dread Knight, in the air.

[Lima 774]

"Da Adherence var kavir!" 

[Gone 869]

A pale skinned elven woman sits below the branches of an oak tree at the edge of the swamp. A basket of fabric and sewing supplies next to her, a bloodstained jacket sprawled out on the grass in front of her. She carefully works with an emotionless face, occasionally measuring her prize and examining it as she works on her creation. Her long ears twitch on occasion as she listens to the echos of the struggle taking place not far from her selected spot. 

 

"Always a shame when two factions so close to one another cannot get along. One has more strength yet the other has more allies. Hard to tell right now who'll come out on top, should make for quite the show when the scales finally tip!" 

 

A coo from a bird above acts as a signal and she hears the faint sound of armored elves walking through the trees. Quickly Xirena gathers her things and scurries off for home.

[A Spooky Witch 156]

Laying in the cell she was thrown in, sore and tired from her own experiences within the compound, Poppy weakly watched the door as such a battle took place, unable to say anything, her voice worn raw. As the noise quieted, a single tear rolled down her face and she wept silently, alone in the dark and dank room.  

 

No... D-.. don't leave...

[Your Favorite Impure 736]

 

 

Laureh'niut Duvaindir 

 

Somewhere in Athera, Aenor feels a sudden urge to nod his approval.

[Dakirennis 959]

Dak'ir sits in his temple before the stone statue of Malin. His klaive in his lap as he wipes a polish soaked rag across the length of the blade. He raises his head to the figure as he ponders out loud.

 

"Every nation is coming to this fight... will I even be able to claim any trophies or glory for my Ancestors?"

 

He sighs quietly as he stands, slinging the large blade over his shoulder before exiting the temple.

[Huh 91]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.