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JUDGEMENT COMES


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JUDGEMENT COMES


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Change is inevitable. The Children of Xion shall usher forth this new age through fire and flame. And in the end.. You will either join our Crusade against the false Gods or be buried alive in the rubble of your city..” -Barrowlord of the Fog, shortly after the events in Fenn.



An armoured figure sat languidly upon the throne of the Fennic Keep, their taloned digits scraping gently across the carved surface of the throne's armrest. Standing impassively before her was that Stoneborn Scion, one of her own creations, a silent guard to keep her company. Outside the Keep, the city bell continued to ring across the city square, rallying the warriors of Fenn to the defence of their city.

Moments later and the entrance to the Keep was filled with the form of a Vigilant Warrior, one of Fenn’s finest. Luminescent cobalt mists drifted away from the Barrowlords helm as they cast their infernal gaze upon the entrance to the keep, regarding the first who had come to challenge her this day.

Ah.. at last! A Child of Fenn has finally come to receive their judgement” within the Infernal figures armoured helm, a great choir of voices rose up to speak in disjointed unison. As time passed more members of the Vigiliants and Ivae’Fenn swarmed the entrance and approached the Barrowlord and her Stoneborn companion steadily with weapons raised.

Whatever conversation took place within the interiors of these halls was unknown to those who watched on from outside.


One thing was for certain however.. The Children of Fenn would not condone the defilement of their Princes throne, nor the presence of the Darkspawn that had come to unleash damnation upon their city this day. With warnings offered and threats given, the battle would ensue and the halls of the Keep would come to be filled with the blood of Fennic warriors.

The battle raged on for some time and to the onlookers that watched from afar, they could only bear witness as a terrible sickly fog engulfed the interior of the Keep and shrouded all those inside in a blanket of undeath. The clanging of blades and shouts from those engaged in battle was the only indication of what raged within. When the mists began to recede, that phantasmal form of the Barrowlord would fade from sight and leave the Stoneborn Scion standing alone at the entrance with the Fenn guard in pursuit.

From the Stoneborns form came a defiant, rage filled voice that spewed forth one simple phrase as they clutched a large spherical container in their palm. Ectoplasmic waters spewing forth from the many cracks and dents that their husk had received “
RADIANT IS THE BLACK SUN!” and with that defiant shout, the container was slammed hard into the wall and a massive explosion rocked the city of Fenn and disturbed what little peace was left.

For those trapped inside, they would barely manage their escape as the main entrance collapsed and the entire structure was engulfed in flames and the air became choked with black smoke and ash.

Judgement had been cast upon Fenn, and they had been found wanting. Little did they know of the evil that now slumbered beneath their feet, waiting to be unleashed.

 

Spoiler

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Ayred takes the stand before his fellow Fenn, outside of the keep in a rather evangelical manner making such a speech: "Where then are the Paladins? Hmn? The world has been against us for as long as we have existed, we have none to rely on but ourselves! Not the Haensemen, not the Norlanders, as much of our friends they may be. The end of the day Fenn must be able to stand strong alone. Today, we drove them from our lands, and that we will continue to. No magical assistance needed!" the 'fenn proclaims to the group, waving a hand out infront of him. "Fenn relies on no one, the world is against us, in all ways. The dark actively attacks us, the light stands idle, twiddling their thumbs. We bear the brunt of the load. Wyrvun calls upon you, me, all of us, to bear that burden."

"Uell ito nae'leh llythsaen!" shouts one man; 'This battle is eternal.'

 

Ayred continues "Let us all take up our duties, with great dedication to the cause, to Wyrvun. As your fathers and mothers did, as their fathers and mothers have! Continue! Brave Mali'fenn, so well kept in your knowledge, so wise in your judgement. No paladin can claim your valor. No druid can claim your stewardship ability. No warriors so fair as to fight the battles as you! Let our judgement be Wyrvun's not the gods of the south. Go forth, and serve! Fight the Frost Witches! Fight the Mystics! Fight the Svarlings!"

 

"Not an inch of ground! Show no quarter!" shouts one from the crowd

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Aroiia Drakon would be in the clinic of the Fennic Remnants. Her now severed arm sewed up. As she laid there, with short breaths she would stay, "After I am through with you cultists, you will wish I had delivered you a swift death" 

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♩♩♩

 

The Vigilant of Hope stands before the flaming keep, steel-clad digits secured around the wooden shaft of his spear. In the fire's light, it shimmers a thanhic blue. "They have made their pyre," he utters. "With Wyrvun as our witness, we shall soon lay them to rest upon it."

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A man of dark descent would peer upon those crackling flames through pursed lips, distancing himself from the aftermath of a battle that had been brought forth to Fenn's front doors.

"So this is where they've been conducting their business.. Now I do wonder, where are those so called 'Symbols of Peace'? What of the paladins and their kin? A terrible job they are certainly doing, ignoring such grandeur displays of dark."

mumbled he as he soon departed from the scene, yet no footsteps of his own would be left in the snow.. How odd.

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12 minutes ago, EdenGlitched said:

A man of dark descent would peer upon those crackling flames through pursed lips, distancing himself from the aftermath of a battle that had been brought forth to Fenn's front doors.

"So this is where they've been conducting their business.. Now I do wonder, where are those so called 'Symbols of Peace'? What of the paladins and their kin? A terrible job they are certainly doing, ignoring such grandeur displays of dark."

mumbled he as he soon departed from the scene, yet no footsteps of his own would be left in the snow.. How odd.

 

Elsewhere, a Wyrmstalker would be frantically running from the Imperial State Army, having just delivered a fatal blow to a wicked 'geist in the middle of Orenia. 

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A titan, a monster, a philosopher of esoteric truths. The Hierophant had served, and made manifest rage untold this day. Black waters stained the ground, and it's bloody hatred had consumed and damaged the flesh of Fenn, but clearly, not the spirit. Stone writhed and bubbled, like scalding water, as the beast slept. Elsewhere, it's husk shimmered in the snow. Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

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In a far off land in a much warmer climate, the Dwarven Forge Lord gives a thought as to whether his Literal Bomb was ever used at the hands of Orenian rebels. He would never know the true tale of the use of his deadly creation to slay elves, but he would have found it just as enjoyable to hear.

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