To Rust & Grime: The Witch Kingdom.

[Wyrvun 1808]

 

Spoiler

https://youtu.be/-XIRj_Iq3cw?si=vEax7WHP7vTqBc2g

 

To the so-called ‘Witch Kingdom’ of Rimeglem,

The cowardly lackeys of the Black Church.

 

We tore your banners asunder, sycophants! It was the prayer of my pet hound Cilwen, that you’d come and attend our meeting, that she might have taken a femur from the “Bitch King” himself, to gnaw upon. Perhaps it may’ve chipped a tooth on that bone-- it’d have been the greatest injury suffered by any number of our combatants! 

 

Where were you?

 

Many a Norlander warned us, hollering to us as we passed on mounted steeds to our wedding we held last year. 

 

“The Tundra is a Warzone!” 

 

“Be ye ware, Fennick Elves, turn back or face ye doom!”

 

But even as we passed the banners announcing our arrival to our Blessed Boreal, what you call your Rime. We remained unharassed. There was nothing but the breeze of Fin’heisn that occupied our ears after the oaths made at the altar. No wistful cries, no necrotic shackles, nor the shuffle of undead feet.

 

Where were you?

 

I sit here now, in the heart of the hearth, surrounded by kith and kin after the conclusion of the meeting. I wiped the ass of a horse (Isinvairë) with the banner of your Clingdom, the crown you so desperately try to hold onto, and threw it onto the fire in my own hearth, here, in the heart of the Tundra.

 

Where were you?

 

A hundred times, I have walked up to your keep. Children play in its shadow, you know. I waited, lulling, preparing an ambush in the woods of your keep. But not even a stirring came from it. Not a single individual came or went. I wonder, if I walk a cannon up to it and blast down the door, shall I find anything of note inside?

Cob webs? 

Abandoned halls?

Is it all a front? The house of a hoarder's stash?

 

No one fears you. I cannot even bring myself, as a supposed enemy, to respect you, for as far as I have seen, there is no tact to respect. There is no ability. Come out and fight me, Bitch King! Do you fear a fight finally brought to your own halls?

 

Come out and fight, Bitch King! Do you stick your head into the snow, praying we simply disappear, as I surround you with canons and ballistae? 

 

Sally forth! I grow bored with this game. The Wyrm rests within its den and calls its domain its own, unbothered by the gnats that wander here and fro.

 

Where are you, o you who proclaim strength? Show your sword arm, ‘King of the Undead.’ Show the strength of your Rimeglen, before the Tundra swallows your keep whole, and you learn again to fear the living, sons and daughters of Wyrvun.

 

 

 

 

We are your doom,

We are your penance,

 

Emaelia Drakon

Speaker of the Archonic Council, Archon of Drakon, Archvigilant of War.

Spoiler

 

 

 

 

[Turnipian 206]

Calenwyn would set up a hammock outside the keep of the 'Bitch King' as she waits for them to come out, a margarita in one hand and a tome in the other.
 

Spoiler

 

 

[King_Kunuk 3022]

[Adelemphii 1766]

Elyndra Tathvir sat within the cozy bed she had rested upon following the events of the meeting. Truthfully, she was still a tad bit ill from whatever she had contracted during that fight within Ildon, which led to hasteful departure following the closure of events. It had weighed heavily on her mind how little use she may be should the darkspawn find themselves at their doors, though they had not come.. Truly, for something which proclaimed itself protectors of the north, they did little protecting as the 'fenn declared their arrival.

 

"How curious, don't you think?" She asked to none in particular. She'd best recover soon, to finish the meal she was to prepare for someone..

[Sr_Dimentio 586]

"Oh c'moooon! I was just busy messing with other mortals that day!!!" Joka, 'charming magician', whined "Those foolish mortals! Disrespecting us and Boss so foolishly! They will see... Lesser jesters! Prepare The cake..." The draugar grinned as his fellow jesters showed him a cake "No! The big... Cake..." The jesters gasped, what terrible things these foul undead had in store!?

[Mordringfan 166]

The Frost Dwarf prepares for a journey towards the Azuran region of Rimeglem, they had heard mentions of it and even seen the banners hung up by the Witch Kingdom, but this missive gave the Dwarf the idea that the Witch Kingdom was more of a paper tiger than how others spoke of it.

[LobsterLarry 1514]

"I shall heed the Tundra's call. No darkspawn shall defeat the might of Wyrvun's kin." Lathai had thought as he read the post. As the snow fell heavy upon the ground, he would smile, knowing the day of war is upon him.

[Shadeleaf 1022]

A very old, very tired draugar stares at a copy of the missive. Feeling had left it's form some time ago, at least any that had mattered. As the wind swirled snow about it's decrepit pit-of-an-office, three croaked words would be all it offered in response, before preparing once again the logistics of war.

 

"High elves... again."

[AechQQ 104]

Galbatorix laughed as he read the missive "I look forward to dragging this one's corpse into the abyss" The Paramount then passed the letter back to his ghoul, considering destroying him for bringing such useless information.

[Pinky 77]

"Wow!" exclaimed the youth, upon reading the missive made by her very own mother. "Okay, yeah, I see where I get my sharp tongue from now- but I did not expect this!" she continued then to read. After finishing it, she looks up at the falling snow and ponders out loud "But actually, WHERE were they? Are they really so cowardly they'd only attempt to harm low numbers?" she sighed, and turned to return, to that little cabin they now called home. At least for now.

[Spellblades 751]

Eloir Drakon watched from the afterlife as 'Fenn banners were placed across The Witch Kingdom's borders

 

"About damn time."

[Samson Option 9652]

 

♫ Music Link ♫ 𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅗𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅯𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅗𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅯𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅗𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅯𝅘𝅥𝅮 ♫ Music Link ♫

Spoiler

 

 

“Di Fenn foray into di Rimeglen”

“Pointed ears will our thralls have then”

“I spy dem in di village laced with frost”

“Which herd will thin quicker?”

“If I had it my way, di Fenn will be at a loss”

“Suffer not their hunting of small game agh gut di Elves wid vigor”

“Porcelain soldiers dim all, fragile and their lustre better den dim sturdiness”

“Enough of di banter from me, I have porcelain to add to di Witch King's kitchenware”

“The first time I came ta visit di Fenn, all they could do is bitch n' stare”

 

[For my Mobile Readers]

Spoiler

“Di Fenn foray into di Rimeglen”
“Pointed ears will our thralls have then”
“I spy dem in di village laced with frost”
“Which herd will thin quicker?”
“If I had it my way, di Fenn will be at a loss”
“Suffer not their hunting of small game agh gut di Elves wid vigor”
“Porcelain soldiers dim all, fragile and their lustre better den dim sturdiness”
“Enough of di banter from me, I have porcelain to add to di Witch King's kitchenware”
“The first time I came ta visit di Fenn, all they could do is bitch n' stare”

 

 

The paleknight Zilzibin di Roused Taunttongue tantrically danced around the frozen-over fishing pond of the Fenns. His griot-like recital of bars of boasting, of lines of panegyric praise, chased after the few Fenn he had ambushed outside the village. The guerrilla made his presence known - a stalwart lieutenant of the Witch King.

 

Spoiler

Salute to the Fenns I encountered a bit ago. I definitely love the premise of small group on small group conflict. You'll find me from time to time and a laid-back adversary. Cheers and here is to more conflict roleplay!

 

[spaazmatism 1024]

"Hm... they'd really ought to do something. Letting Immortal-worshippers traipse around their keep, unharmed?"
The flickering light of a litany of candles illuminated a copy of the missive, within the home of a Mystic of Xion.
"Madness."

 

Spoiler