The Rabbit's Revenge

[Destructokeith 1142]

The Rabbit’s

Revenge

Spoiler

 

[!]

Three banners fly over the ruins of Stassion, one the banner of Theonus, one the banner of Icathia, and the tallest, a blue banner adorned with a rabbit's head.

 

Artel stands in the ruins of the once proud keep of Stassion as the forces of the Covenant march off. He smiles, still weak from the magic he used to help turn this keep into nothing but a ruin. Standing there, he thinks back to what had led to this moment.


It was just like any day in the streets of Vallagne, the streets full of shoppers and children playing, Artel watched the streets with a smile until a man in a black mask ran past, followed by two guards who managed to stop the man shortly after they ran past the knight. With a sigh, he walked over to find out what the problem was.
“We asked him how he got into the city Sir, and he gave us different answers each time!”
Came the reply from the guard. The knight asked a simple question in return, a puzzled look on his face.
“Why do you wear the colors of bandits who have attacked our people?”
The reply that came was nothing but lies, by now the knight commander Aimo had arrived, and with a simple order the bandit's hand was broken and he was thrown from the city. The people of Vallagne went about their days, thinking that would be the last of it.
But oh were they wrong

For later that day came the men of Stassion, angered by the treatment of a man of their realm. They kidnapped an innocent man for no reason other than the colors he wore.
A shame for them that the colors he wore were blue and white.

With a simple act of cruelty, the beheading of a man of Theonus, the people of Stassion had unknowingly signed the death warrant of their entire realm. One simple act led to the moment where the Margrave allowed the forces of the Covenant to march from his keep to lay waste to Stassion.


Artel turns and heads to the throne room, glancing out through the holes shattered into its walls towards his home, Ghorm had been so close to home when they stole his life. 

“What if we had known?” 

“Could we have saved him?” 

These thoughts tormented the man as he looked up at the ruined throne before his mind drifted once more to the past.


The men of the city watch and magi of Hohkmat gathered together in the barracks, collecting gear they would need for their trip to Whitespire. The king of Aaun had called for a meeting of peace, some were hopeful but Artel was not among them, the thought of Ghorm's murder still fresh in his mind. “How can a boy who can't control his vassals hope to bring peace?” he thought to himself as they rode to join with the other armies, it was then that a bird arrived, telling of what awaits them in Whitespire.

The sound of five thousand horses charging filled the air as they all rushed to save the boy king, unaware that they were already too late. They stormed the city, then the keep, they chased down the murderers and killed them all and once they returned to the streets of Whitespire, the war began.

Seven and a half thousand men stood outside the gates waiting for the Covenant’s move, just over nine thousand strong. We stood packed into the streets safe to plan until an unknown traitor opened the gates and our enemies poured in.

Two great armies met in the streets of Whitespire that day as every man that Veletz, Stassion, and the Horde sent died in the street, the rivers of blood poured into the great Silver Sea, and mountains of bodies stacked high. For the Covenant and the people of Aaun, the murder of the king was a great rallying cry, the second warrant of death that Stassion had signed for themselves. But, for House Theonus another loss was felt in the chaos. Our Isavella had fallen, slayed by Stassion’s actions. And once more the fire inside every Theonus burned hot with rage.

Artel stares at the throne, small tears in his eyes. He draws his hand and a half sword, stalking towards the damaged throne he lifts the blade high “For Ghorm!” he yells as he brings the blade down, cracking the throne before lifting the blade again “For Isa!” he roars and once again brings the blade down, the throne nearly splitting in half before he lifts it one final time, screaming at the top of his lungs “Unwavering, under, the sun!”. He brings the blade down, cleaving through the throne and digging it into the floor. With a heavy sigh, the knight stands, waiting a moment to rip the blade from the floorboards before marching off. 

 

His revenge was complete.

 

Spoiler

just a little pov post from the battle from the crazed knight