[FROSTFIRE] DECLARATION OF WAR

[Diogen 3729]

 

 

 

 

Spoiler

 

 

[!] Across Aevos letters rain down from imps and grotesque crows.

Within a frozen hell, the drums and fires of war spark to life

Mordring Lies

Warlock, Necromancer, Demon, ill souls abound. Hear this call. Mordring will discard you for his whims. He fails to honor his agreement with The Black Pontiff. Forsake your ties to Xionism, prove yourself in The Legion.


The High Hells damn, though we honor our agreements. The Eye and Hand call all able bodies to the north. The High Hells speak. Faithful of Iblees rise. These usurpers, undead, speak of peace and love. Mortal ideals unfit of this Age of Rancor. They would  strike against “Ruin” as they claim. Mordring, Dragaar left behind. Your brother forsakes you. 

Do not be swayed by the babble of Xionist Priests. Mordring has never sought peace, nor will he ever seek peace. He uses you, with no care for you, for the mere power of weaving ectoplasm to achieve his personal goals, only to discard you afterwards.

 

-

 

Aratakrast - the Golden Lich - attempted to strike an underhanded deal with our queen Naele against the Xionists, to borrow her own Necromancers, and in turn aid her with his own, including himself. Teaching those she willed into Necromancy, giving her artifacts. Killing the Xionists she willed, for he cared not for them.

How much more must a Mother give you Funnybone, you have bitten the hand that has fed you once too many times. 

 

 A deal he asked her not to share with Xionists, for he knew that striking an unofficial alliance with her would cause anger. Yet he did such regardless.

 

Ask Mthyul Tlan, how peaceful your Lord is. When he hired the Hexicanum to kill the Ancient Wight.
 

We have seen your dwindling numbers, for all of your forces combined are nowhere near half of our Ibleesian Necromancers alone.

Lords of your court, bring forth your best.

 

Submit to your queen, Naele.

 

 

“May Chaos take the world!”

 

“We are the Old Dark.”

 

To you, followers of Mordring. To you, Mordring:

This is war.

 

 

 

 

[!] Seers would be able to read scriptures upon that missive.

 

Spoiler

Upon the back of this Missive is a Caecic Message: Contact Leyd / Elahicol to interact

 

 

[ThatFunkyBunch 2818]

An Inferis watches the ghouls and imps slave away in the north. Behind towers looms an ancient spire in ice.

"Frostfire comes." "Glory to the Queen."

 

[frvma 1014]

A Nephilim read and smiled. Wide and toothy. The paper burst to flames as it looked to the sky. "I give this to you, Father. As the start of the Flames."

[_Leyd 1010]

The Eye marvels its' make. 

[Apotolofo 2207]

She whom once was Scrisa sneers.

 

"Undead and death defying, speaking of peace and order?" She scoffed. 

 

"Servitude to a lying God. . . . How pathetic." 

 

The Wraith sharpened her knives, already itching to sink her claws into another.  

[_xMika 284]

[!] There stood a lone weaver in a hall of silence, one that once held a close friend. . . one that held laughter and voices. . but now it simply laid empty  "That fucker" is what the weaver murmured underneath his breath, he had  finally snapped he thought of everything that led him to this point. The pain, the  suffering he had seen be forced upon his comrades and himself. "Mother, is it wrong of me to curse the path i am  following?" he whimpered a mixture of sadness for the fallen, but before tears came to roll down his cheeks he came to blurt out in pure anger "I will NOT follow a god whom  KILLS his followers, without even blinking" the weaver crumbled, he wept and raged. "I stand alone, once more. . " the lost and cursed weaver simply pleaded "Someone, tell me what to do" though such pleads as per usual  fell upon deaf ears

[fetty bridgers 4492]

A pale, sickly Nephilim watched the northern wasteland around him swelter with forces of the dark. Allies took the hands of his enemies, yet their enemies forged pacts with the brother of his own Father. “For all sides of this war that is soon to ravage the lands we call home has taken arms against us in one time or another. A decision is to be made - a serpent must choose its prey.”

 

[Venomous_Pup 2978]

"I saw it.. I saw it.." A Witch repeats in utter glee at this news

"Fire and Ice, to cleanse the rot that lingers in these lands.."

"Let what is dead, remain so."

[StrongBear 1239]

As the  'ame lingers within the rafters of a busy tavern, the missive meets his pale gaze,  over and over again he reads it before eventually coming to just stare at the names mentioned, slowly the noise below starts to become drowned by the voices in his head. The same phrase repeating, "You'll figure it out."

[DahStalker 3692]

A woman by the name of Houri who could not read this missive but felt the bad heebie-jeebies in the air recently - made a circle of salt around her beloved donkeys in Solgaard. 

[Security_ 2287]

The Rat Lich grabs a bucket of popcorn, reminded of years past.

 

 

[Rebellionlife 443]

A frozen hammer struck a crude blade as the iceforged witch begun another song deep in a slumbering mountain as war begins anew. 

[framalam 837]

A true Legionnaire gazes upon the missive curiously, “The Synod, the Pale Legion, Garumdir, Mordring, Azdromoth. How many will they taunt in their path to what exactly?” With no other use for the accursed maleficar paper, he casts it into the snow.

[xo31 3979]

A Darkreaver of Umbrage, he whom slayed the Black Pontiff in years passed, marked another tattoo upon his mortal body.

 

It read: 

 

"Yatl Bhurn-ka Nekaro ag'Vorhuhz"

 

 

[lemonke 6014]

14 minutes ago, xo31 said:

A Darkreaver of Umbrage, he whom slayed the Black Pontiff in years passed, marked another tattoo upon his mortal body.

 

It read: 

 

"Yatl Bhurn-ka Nekaro ag'Vorhuhz"

 

 

Spoiler

Bro stop using black font, please...