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[Event] Blood, Snow and Shadow


TheWhiteWolf
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Blood, Snow and Shadow

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3LnYHaiwdzo&ab_channel=SecessionStudios
Thanks to EdenCringe for assistance with formatting the post.

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“When your City is in flames with the walls crumbling around you and the very air in your lungs is choked with ash and ember.. When your citizens are hung from the walls and the banners of the Black Sun hang from the ruins of your Keep.. it will be too late to renounce your False Gods. We offer you this one final chance at Salvation.” 

- The Barrowlord Astark to the imprisoned High Prince of Fenn, Vytrek. 
 

In all of Fenns long and storied history, this would be their darkest of days. A day forever to be remembered, where the Stalwart Light of the few stood against the coming dark in what was to be their final hour. The actions that played out this day would determine the fate of their city and their people as they stood on the very brink of annihilation.
 

And yet..
 

The Nations of Almaris did nothing, standing on the sidelines and choosing to battle their Descendant brothers and sisters in petty disagreements between Nations and perceived insults. Killing and maiming each other over material possessions, land and titles. If only they knew that once Fenn had been reduced to ash and rubble and the banners of the Blackened Sun hung from their walls.. That this host of Xion, this Legion of the Damned would be on their doorstep next. And so the embattled defenders of Fenn stood alone. The Ivae’Fenn, the Vigilants, the ordinary citizens of Fenn and their Azdrazi allies.. Surrounded on all sides as the jaws of death closed in on them. With a Prophecy foretold, warning of the coming events, they did all they could to bolster their defences and forge new weapons. But would it be enough?

 

❄ The Battle of Fenn Begins ❄
 

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And so that fateful day arrived, an eerie silence taking hold of the city as the defenders stood ready. The Archvigilant of War assessed the defences and the nervous defenders, he had faith in his people and in Wyrvun to carry them to victory. Several lines of defences had been set up between the main gates of the city and the Keep, the once peaceful city had been turned into a veritable fortress that stood ready to receive the Blackened Host.

And so it began.. The silence would be broken as thousands of trumpets pierced the wintry air and the howling winds of the blizzard that still ravaged the city. They could not see their foe, the unhallowed fogs and blistering blizzards obscuring their sight to nothing. Yet, the Children of Fenn had prepared themselves, wearing magical helmets to detect the heat signatures of their foes in the mists.

Bang. Bang. Bang.. the Gates of Fenn were battered relentlessly, the cries and moans of the undead crying out for the blood of the defenders in the names of their dark masters. Then, with a thundering crack would the gates be breached and the horde of the damned poured through into the streets of the city.

“Open Fire!” The command was relayed to the defenders, several ballista and regiments of archers readied their weapons before unleashing a hailstorm of projectiles into the breach and the horde swarming through it. The projectiles glinted under the blackened sun overhead, their arrowheads of aurum and thanium seeming like a descending storm of stars that laid waste to the first wave. Arms and armour fell to the ground as phantasmal warriors were slain in the hundreds, being manifested and banished to whatever realm they had come from.

Yet it was nowhere near enough.

The first line of defences were quickly overwhelmed, an intense aura of dread taking hold of the city as the undead horde butchered and slaughtered their way through the Fennic defenders without mercy. Chanting the name of their Forsaken Lord and offering up Xionist chants to the Black Sun that lingered overhead. Those who had not succumbed to the butchery that took place in the first line of defence quickly retreated, falling back to the second line as Ballista's were reloaded and arrows were knocked in place.

 

❂  The Dark Lord Arrives ❂
 

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From the midst of that carnage a towering figure clad in armour wrought of infernal design stepped forth, their stygian gaze coming to study the defiant defenders that stood in opposition to the Children of Xion. The Forsaken Lord of the Xionist forces had arrived, flanked on either side by an honour guard of towering stone Knights that pulverised any would-be assailant that dared neared this Dark God.

A discordant choir of voices would make their presence known, booming forth from the armoured husk of that Forsaken Lord.
“Children of Fenn, you have had your chance to repent and forsake your False Gods for years. And yet you still stand defiant, willful slaves to higher powers that care not for you or your kin! And so.. With a heavy heart does the duty of your execution fall upon us. We cannot allow you to be pawns to the Aengudemonica any longer..”

“Open Fire!” came that command once more from the Fennic Commanders, another volley of ballista bolts, arrows and javelins descending upon the damned host and the Forsaken Lord. The efforts of the defenders would prove fruitless however, the Barrowlord extending forth a palm and bringing forth the mortal magicks at their command to summon an ectoplasmic barrier of immense proportions that stopped the hailstorm of projectiles in their path.

A victorious cry would rise from the attackers as suddenly the atmosphere on the battlefield changed.. Both the Children of Fenn and the Children of Xion fell silent as the shadows seemingly intensified before retreating and being pulled into the centre of the city and the gaping crater that lingered there. The two armies stopped their fighting as they watched onward in terror as the Apparition awoke from its slumber under the earth. As a sickening laugh of a child's voice broke the silence, chaos was unleashed once more.

The Apparition was the friend of none and the foe of all, laying waste to both the Children of Fenn and the Children of Xion in droves. It shifted in and out of reality, appearing in the midst of tightly pact formations of troops before tearing them limb from limb in brutal fashion. The forces of Light and Dark resumed their slaughter of one another and did their best to avoid the Apparition's wrath as the very streets of Fenn became slick with the blood of the fallen.

There was one however that held the key to Fenns salvation and victory in this seemingly impossible fight, a Draconic Warrior and Champion of the Flame. Standing in the back line and offering aid to the beleaguered defenders, his very presence acted as a beacon that bolstered the faltering hearts of those who were overcome with fear and dread. With ease he laid waste to any hungering geist that managed to breach through their lines, cutting them apart and banishing them with blistering dragon's flame. Yet he was here for one in particular, his fiery countenance studying the carnage before him in search of the enemies Champion and Commander.

There they were..

 

❖  The Decisive Moment ❖
 

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The Forsaken Lord was cutting a bloody swathe through the battlefield and leaving a great many dead in her wake alongside her Stone Guardians. Though her path of destruction would come to a sudden halt as the Apparition conjured forth a glimmering storm from the skies that unleashed devastation on the battlefield and tore into the Forsaken Lord’s Honour Guard and herself, cutting them apart. This was the opportunity the Fennic defenders needed, a single moment in the shifting events of the battle that would determine their victory or defeat.

As the Barrowlord engaged in bloody close quarters combat, their armoured form would come to be destroyed and their true form would be exposed for all to see. The sickly radiant visage of the Wight Barrowlord ascending into the air above the battlefield as infernal weapons hovered around them intent on killing a great many more. Yet, unaware to this Lord the apparition hunted her..

Should the Apparition have claimed the power from this Forsaken Lord, it would be unstoppable. It would be unknown if the Draconic Champion knew this or not, but they were well aware of the opportunity that had presented itself and with their arm reared back a mighty spear of dragon flame was conjured forth and hurled with great speed. It punctured deep into the Barrowlords form, a shrill cry escaping their being as it was torn apart and exploded from within. This was the turning point of the battle and the Hierophant, the Forsaken Lords personal champion, sounded the call to retreat. Their voices booming across the battlefield for all to hear!


“The Lord has fallen, retreat!”

With this final act would the city of Fenn be saved, the Draconic Warrior watching as the Children of Xion were routed from the city only to watch as the Apparition descended on him in those final moments of the battle..

↽ The Aftermath ⇀


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And so the Defenders of Fenn would win the day, but at what cost? The streets of Fenn were covered with the slain bodies of hundreds and the gutters ran red with the blood of the fallen as the city burned. Many sons and daughters of Fenn had been slain, and the Apparition still yet lived in the Crypts below..

Would they continue to stand alone against this threat? Barely holding on to their lives as week after week, year after year they were assailed by the forces of the dark. Or would the Nations of Almaris finally turn their gaze to Fenn and rally to their aid?


Only time would tell.


 

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Through the snow, a elf clad in armor unleashed bolt after bolt upon the enemy forces of the damned. And as the chaos unleashed upon the city, the Barrowlord stepped forth. Finally coming into the sight of Orris from the blizzard. Without a second though, he takes out his weapon, making his way forwards. "Bring it on!" He yelled out in a battlecry, storming forwards.

 

A javelin, made of gold, finds its mark into the Barrowlord of the fog after which Orris sends his Slayersteel spike down into the creature, clad in unholy infernal armor. As the two clashed in combat, whisps rained down from the sky. Orris barely managing to not be hit by any yet the barrowlord dropping to a knee infront of the elf. And so, with one decisive parry, the armor was slain... the elf, Orris, having not much experience thought it was over. Yet whispers of the damned flowed around him, enough to make a man sick. Breathing heavily he looked around yet nothing was to be seen. With a pure gamble, he throws his dagger into the general direction of the Barrowlord, invisible to the naked eye. And with all the luck in the world, it founds its mark. Yet before Orris could bring the finishing blow, he was struck down by a Titanic being of stone, making him fall forwards in the snow. 

The world twirled around him, confused and dazed he layed in the cold. The Barrowlord being slain by someone else, the troops of darkness made their retreat. Orris slowly came to a stand with his back carved open and bloody. Stumbling forth through the snow, noticing that same titanic being dragging off the armor of the damned lord. Knowing he couldn't let it escape, afraid it might be able to return the lord to its full strength with the armor, he went into a attack. Yet the weakened elf was no match for the beast. Being thrown to the side after trading a blow, laying now once more in the snow. The force of nature stepped ontop of  Orris, attempting one final blow, yet luck and pure determination managed Orris to survive that faithful day. But the high toll of his arm being cut clean off. 

There he layed in the cold, bleeding and unconcious as the Titan departed. A lesson learned, a arm lost and a seed of anger and hatred planted in the elfs mind. 

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Flickering sights of days prior dawned in the 'aherals mind...

 

"if you need my aid, all you need do is ask; and so I shall gather whomst I can" The silver elfess' tone bounds across the hilltop, met only by the the relentless whipping winds of the blizzard and that of someone she would come to believe her llir, Prince Vytrek. (@Monkee).
"You are no different then" Now bounds the voice of his mal'onn (@Fekr) amidst a lengthy conversation betwixt the walls of the frigid keep one late night, prior to the battle's eve, before it so twisted in tone and volume. "Yet you are the first.." "To care for 'fenn I mean" He so concluded upon words exchanged thereafter, the woman sitting in silence as her attentiveness diverted from his words.. once more shifting.

And yet.. one memory took ahold.

"Ally of yore, of my lari'onnan, my mal'onnan.. bestow upon me one request; to march alongside side me, my talonii.. my distant kin to suffer in the barren peaks, to suffer in their isolation.." Pleaded the porcelain paletted elf to the Nephilim before her "If Diarchists taint your view of my people, have bestowed upon you this falsehood- then so grant me the chance to earn my kins redemption for a future.. march with us on the dark" At that, the Nephilim's chin angled downward (@Milenkhov). By her pleas did he show..

Yet.. it had all played out so differently from what the mali had envisioned in her mind. The Start. A fennic vanguard to struggle against a tide of those twisted by the dark, making ground only as the blizzard's flakes parted for the hail of projectiles. For a moment the horrors of war prior; of strife and torment, fractured memories now whole, painted in the clearest of forms bared their fruits- only broken by the yelling of Fennic Commanders. Her veiled gaze gave unto the figure at her flank her attentiveness (@Venomous_Pup). "And so shall the proving grounds of our generations to come be proven here, in fenn. So shall the mistakes and idleness of Diarchists and High Princes be fought by 'aheral and 'fenn here today.. come.. let us join them" So spoke the Shepard as she descends from the hilltop- before from her sleeves did the manifestation of an endless stream of flaking embers come to exist.

Deaths.. wounds.. all were blown as the blackened banners advanced toward the crater where upon once a time the Fennic square stood.. and from which did IT emerge.. the presumed amalgamation of the mystic's work, a titanic aberration of twisted souls most confused. The elfess bore witness as her ally, Diome ( @Orlanth) were near rendered asunder, ripped in half.. broken and bruised.. yet all in favour of the growing collection of smoke and dwindling embers above. And so it came to fruition when the Aberration dwelled above the crater; at last.. a hellish torrent of voidal flame piercing through the shroud of thick white-obscurity; hundreds of fiery droplets the size of coins would streak down with the consistency of a typical rainfall- no signs of wavering or halting.. simply a mass scorching of the pit- yet from the Barrowlord a screech resounded that would instil the descendants of malin, the followers of the titan with fear- prompting their flee.. her connection severed- her work lacerated.

Yet it were not over.. exhausted were her form- her beads of sweat freezing over as the night grew colder.. harsher.. though by means of shear will, foul play or mayhaps simply the thought of failing her distant kin.. did the sorceress press her known bounds- one final spell. "Distant Lari'onnan, mal'onnan... I've done all I can" Confessed the silver elf, and so now in the end of her casting's reign, the magi whomst had stood as the primary wreaker of havoc upon the aberration's form with her fire would sling her last stint of flame. Her last actions were noted as the panning of countenance to the aftermath, her living allies. Her scarred lips curled upward for a faint, brief, smile.. before the elfess than collapsed amidst the square, her frame fell limp.. idle.. unresponsive.

Those to hear this in history would surely know this as a fennic victory.. yet those there knew who were present...

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"Our victory today will go unnoticed by those on the outside. They will not remember the names of the 'Fenn and the few allies that died to keep this beast from coming for them. And to that..." all the 'Fenn could do was spit onto the floor. The Archvigilant of War would drag his battered form up from the ground, a dissatisfied look creeping up onto his face as he sees the devastation. Though a victory, a painful one - Many dead around him and yet the beast responsible still lives. Scooping up his Thanhic Glaive he paces back to the Keep to plan the next battle... Yet the Prince was no where to be seen.

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As Skyler awakes from the battle, being knocked out from the on-start, she looks around...bodies, everywhere. Her friends who she had considered family..dead. The city, torn to shreds.

 

The Fate Vigilant of Death rises to her feet, just a head wound. She hears he moaning of injured, she smells the stench of the deceased.

 

She heads to the clinic to help the wounded, but is told at this time everyone is treated. She glances to the doorway, she see's another Vigilant standing there. She knows what is expected now. Without word they head outside and start to gather the dead.

 

Body by body is taken to the crypts below the city, some even so torn apart they cannot be identified.

Sadness, Grief, Fear, Anger this is what she feels.

 

The bodies finally all gathered below the city, the streets cleared of the dead she slowly reflects in her mind.

The young elf, did she choose correctly her path?

The young elf, should she have ever returned to Fenn?

The young elf, why is she here?

The young elf, is this fate?

 

As she washed her hands and prays as the last body is set before her, all those answers flood to her.

 

"Wyvrun guides me in life and in all my decisions, I am a servant of Fenn and when the ash clears and the winds die, we will rise stronger. Our people have survived history and we will continue to do so."

 

It is with this passing thought that the young elf would wake again in the morning, humbled and thankful.

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Akkar Tundrak had left the city days prior- his goal was to seek out the monuments continually constructed across the Snowy North by the Frost Witches, in attempt to curve their spread of power. Yet another enemy had returned in his abscence from the remnant; 

 

It was the next Elven day that he sat atop a mountainous spire; watching with helpless intent as the by-product of battle for the Fennic' town began to rise far-off in the horizon. Plooms of smoke and embers created a tall beacon stretching up to touch the sky, even through the blizzard did the light of fire carry, the shouting and screaming from the conflict echoed through the valleys.

 

The Fenn' spoke bluntly "Of all the groups attacking us: only those... monsters could be so brave. I do not doubt there will be yet another Fennic' victory in the coming days under the lead of my Mal'onn ( @Monkee) they come and yet once again we send them on their way to meet Wyrvun in the afterlife, laughing to himself he said "The other realms are now full of useless non-combatants, even now a single group of Aheral' are the only ones strong-willed enough to fight these things alongside us..."

 

Closing his eyes he'd speak out into the Cold lands "Wyrvun, ruler of this deep-cold, the Ivae'Fenn need your guidance, watch as they attack your enemies. Watch over the Aheral' who aid us as they are not accustomed to fighting these monstrocities especially in such... conditions as these in the North" He thought of a specific Silver Elfess "She has steeled her resolve, be it that she aids in this battle, then gift upon her your guidance, your strength and your wisdom." ( @Twinny Akkar sat alone on the snowy peaks, watching out for the many things would attempt to ambush him. He stood on guard throughout the night with his glaive

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Minuvas sat blissfully unaware of the troubles of the Fenn from his beautiful estate in the Vale of Arentine. Though this is likely because no one had bothered to ask for his help, and so no help could be sent. Though Minuvas also imagines this would be a far less romantic tale for the Fenn if it meant that other nations, did indeed, actually help with their problems.

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A lone dwarf somewhere, somehow. Had too learned of A prophecy containing the black sun, silently muttering it to himself once again in an attempt to figure out what it meant. He may soon learn of the events that have taken place and the pieces will begin to fall in his mind, until then he stays where he always was, wandering in his squander. It may have also been a fate that the prophecy he had heard too had contained the black sun but was yet another prophecy entirely. One wouldn't know until the events have happened and what has been foretold had come into fruition. 

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5 hours ago, NLThomas said:

Through the snow, a elf clad in armor unleashed bolt after bolt upon the enemy forces of the damned. And as the chaos unleashed upon the city, the Barrowlord stepped forth. Finally coming into the sight of Orris from the blizzard. Without a second though, he takes out his weapon, making his way forwards. "Bring it on!" He yelled out in a battlecry, storming forwards.

 

A javelin, made of gold, finds its mark into the Barrowlord of the fog after which Orris sends his Slayersteel spike down into the creature, clad in unholy infernal armor. As the two clashed in combat, whisps rained down from the sky. Orris barely managing to not be hit by any yet the barrowlord dropping to a knee infront of the elf. And so, with one decisive parry, the armor was slain... the elf, Orris, having not much experience thought it was over. Yet whispers of the damned flowed around him, enough to make a man sick. Breathing heavily he looked around yet nothing was to be seen. With a pure gamble, he throws his dagger into the general direction of the Barrowlord, invisible to the naked eye. And with all the luck in the world, it founds its mark. Yet before Orris could bring the finishing blow, he was struck down by a Titanic being of stone, making him fall forwards in the snow. 

The world twirled around him, confused and dazed he layed in the cold. The Barrowlord being slain by someone else, the troops of darkness made their retreat. Orris slowly came to a stand with his back carved open and bloody. Stumbling forth through the snow, noticing that same titanic being dragging off the armor of the damned lord. Knowing he couldn't let it escape, afraid it might be able to return the lord to its full strength with the armor, he went into a attack. Yet the weakened elf was no match for the beast. Being thrown to the side after trading a blow, laying now once more in the snow. The force of nature stepped ontop of  Orris, attempting one final blow, yet luck and pure determination managed Orris to survive that faithful day. But the high toll of his arm being cut clean off. 

There he layed in the cold, bleeding and unconcious as the Titan departed. A lesson learned, a arm lost and a seed of anger and hatred planted in the elfs mind. 

Spoiler

Kallian 2.0? Already lost an arm.

 

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12 minutes ago, TheBigBubbles said:
  Reveal hidden contents

Kallian 2.0? Already lost an arm.

 

Spoiler

All my characters are obviously self inserts, why the story goes the same way.

 

The wheel spins again and again...

 

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The Vigilant of Hope, freed from his bonds, passes beneath gates of twisted steel. Eyes wide with paranoia, his silvery gaze trails from specter to specter upon the thrice-bloodied battlefield. Here, a Svarling - there, a dark servant of Xion - beyond, a 'fenn. For the first time in years, that unholy fog does not cloud his vision, for the Mystics had granted him a new affliction. In a stupor, he stumbles towards the keep.

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