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Reckoning of the Bridge, 1784


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The Reckoning of the Bridge

1784

 

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Propaganda from the News Boards, signifying the grasping hands of a gnarled demon with a skeleton countenance... Reaching, grasping.

 

Rumors of defeats suffered in the fiery, hellbent and twisted lands of the Korvassa are whispered softly between adventurers in the taverns and barracks throughout Arcas. Countless soldiers had been slain in the battles attempted by the brave and valiant warriors of Arcas, and it would certainly not be the last time. With impunity, the Infernal Legions remain the dominant power in the region, as all things natural have paved way instead for the contamination by the High Hells and their wicked emissaries. 

 

Tales circulate of the brave Sir Alaric DeNurem who sought to rescue his wife twice in one month, and was soundly sent with a reckoning back to Oren with his tail tucked between his legs. Many also spoke of the esteemed gentleman Private Linhord of the Imperial State Army who was tortured as a prisoner of war and then allowed to flee back to Oren as a warning. After all, the feeding is not good without more corpses, and a simple bloodletting would not satisfy the hunger of the many Inferi prowling the harsh and unrelenting landscape. Without an orgy of blood and sinew and without the meat for them to consume; every single battle was meaningless. Honor did not matter to the demons, who beat back brave Orcs and Men who fought not but a week ago to try and get past the gates of a stalwart fortress leading into those infernal lands. Despite the struggles of such grand warriors like the Rex Ugrad’Lur, Sir Alaric the Brave, and their stalwart allies the Inferi were simply far too powerful. Years tempered in hardship, bloodshed, and consumption of the weak had left them too low-cunning to fall to conventional military tactics.

 

Mercilessly, the horde continues to prowl the accursed desert, and they shall continue to do so. For the demons shall not fall quickly, and their malice shall drive them to the ends of the earth. Why are they here? What else must they consume? How could GOD allow this to happen? 

 

Things are unseemly and perilous. Many questions remain; but beware Korvassa for only death and despair marches among the cursed land’s number.

 

((OOC:

Major thanks to all the Story Members who assisted me today, and I hope everybody had fun with the events done by Knightie, Spoons, and myself. So far event participants have behaved stellar and it’s such a pleasure to be helping tailor these events for all of you!))

 

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”And may it so perish, by the hands of the Lord, and his disciples.” Vittorio Antonio Falcone cursed, upon hearsay of such a tale.

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