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And the West burned.

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Mortals from all over the realm, made their way to Bastion, 

to defend, what was left of the former so proud Land in the West.

Standing side by side, human next to dwarves, orcs next to elves.
Paladins next to Ascended.


The West stands proud

 

Bastion's downfall was the result of a series of events. A conflict started by the mortals themself.
In the frozen wastelands, a presence called Mordring, ruler over the Abyss got threatened by the 

Westerlandic forces, which proceedes to claim the land around the massive portal which is now surrounded by the massive fort of ice and black steel.
Ghamul, hand of Mordring, a wraith, was sent out to raise Mordring an army and ride gen West,

to reclaim what was his and teach the foolish mortals a lesson, they shall not forget that fast.

 

And the West will burn
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Bildergebnis für witchking of angmar dragon

-= Ghamul on his drake 'Satar, landing in the courtyard of the royal palace of Bastion =-
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He rose his chief commanders, an uruk, an elf and a human to command the armies he was raising,

and ordered them to terrorize and feed upon the nearby villages. The proud West stood strong and tried its

best to push the steadly increasing hordes of leeching ghouls back, but their will and amount of men decreased 

every day.. Until eventually their own kings Caius Horen, fell in the claws of Mordring.

 

And the West burns.

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Bildergebnis für medieval fantasy burning city siege

-= Bastion engulfed in flames, 11th of the Grand Harvest 1609 =-

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Even as a new, young prince arrived, taking note of the upcoming danger in the north, 

desperately trying to assemble as many mortals as possible under his banner, the forces could not be pushed back

until eventually the day came where mortals faced their foe of the north. Son's faced their passed fathers,
brothers their fallen sisters.

And it came like a thunderstruck, just as the mortals arrived at Bastion, the chief commanders burned down the gate, and barns,

forcing the mortals evenutally back behind their walls of stone, after fighting so proudly. But their number decreased, and as more people fell

the more ghouls came.

Bombarded by trolls and trebs, the forces of Mordring were stopped as the clever mortals cut off the bridge, the only bridge.
But Mordring sent his personal regards, creating a path for his minions to push inside the walls of stone and trapped the remaining mortals

like mice in a corner.

 

And so the West Burned.

 

 

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"As said." The distraught human pressed an old warrior of the westerland's blade into the ground, soaked in a blanket of blood.

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Dralk stood engulfed in entrails and dried blood. In his wake lay men and women who desperately tried to defend a 'Bastion of Hope'. Now it was no more than a 'Bastion of Dread'.

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Guest

"Perishing. Cumbersome is the flesh in which they roam. The candle has been snuffed out."

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"All good Canonists should rally to the cause of the West, the true fight is not the half men or green apes, but the undead threat that has engulfed Bastion"

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8 minutes ago, Pyro™ said:

"All good Canonists should rally to the cause of the West, the true fight is not the half men or green apes, but the undead threat that has engulfed Bastion"

"The true fight is not the Undead or Purple apes, but the Pontiff that is trying to pit the followers of GOD against each other." A Courlander would comment.

 

 

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Drawing (7).pngA4qt7Y_32nqMaBCcLJR8UQq6cL69qzFIGeeUBAKUImLARIJalhpCJNVsHUJ0xvb_QPBjJlZ3rLps7OC6p0UKVuwZKRRWDN0w4J194J79uegVkugrN7U-uKShmlNd2XB4cQ9MdEEV

“MOTHER PUSS BUCKET!”

 

The Wargoth Kuntklobbera, and his kinsman Gahnaak, withdrew from the battlefield, battled, bloodied and bruised, slathered in a toxic ooze and solemn from the loss. Bastion had fallen under the strain of the undead army- it was a dire time for the Westerlands.


“Gather the men..  and be prepared.. I’m gonna ram my hammer so far up this Mordring bloke’s arsehole its gonna tickle his tonsils.”

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1 minute ago, Grubgoth Wud said:

Drawing (7).pngA4qt7Y_32nqMaBCcLJR8UQq6cL69qzFIGeeUBAKUImLARIJalhpCJNVsHUJ0xvb_QPBjJlZ3rLps7OC6p0UKVuwZKRRWDN0w4J194J79uegVkugrN7U-uKShmlNd2XB4cQ9MdEEV

“MOTHER PUSS BUCKET!”

 

The Wargoth Kuntklobbera, and his kinsman Gahnaak, withdrew from the battlefield, battled, bloodied and bruised, slathered in a toxic ooze and solemn from the loss. Bastion had fallen under the strain of the undead army- it was a dire time for the Westerlands.


“Gather the men..  and be prepared.. I’m gonna ram my hammer so far up this Mordring bloke’s arsehole its gonna tickle his tonsils.”

"Count me in, Brother." Remarks Chek'Lur.

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Coltaine joins the press of bodies as they charge through the gap in the walls, waves of errant sorcery flying over their heads as chaos consumes the city. He marches in Ranholfs wake, complementing the beings powerful swings with his own quick thrusts of his shortsword, men and woman writhing or lying deathly still as the dead march further in.

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"Bastion has fallen?" A shocked Matheus would exclaim upon hearing the news "I heard there were undead at the Westerlands but I didn't think it was that bad! I hope that this isn't a sign of things to come."

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9 hours ago, Grubgoth Wud said:

 

With determination, Gahnaak'Raguk sharpens his blunted axehead. His mind on the defeat and at what might come next.

 

"Angh Gund Grish"  He mutters

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The elf stood just outside the Westerlands, looking around at the forests. He stood there what seemed like forever, listening to everything - but nothing. The absence of birds, and animals.

 

"Mordring. They attempted to defy Mordring? Idiot valah. They should of foreseen this."

 

Varen'thal stood there just a bit longer, before turning and heading back home.

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

 

If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it. 

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