The March Of Dread

[Princeton 396]

 

--

 

 

- The March of Dread -

 

 

 

 

--

 

The cold winds of North blew steadily, biting and hissing at any normal man deranged enough to approach the wall to the North. The night was at it's peak, the only sound was the flurry of air and quiet echoes of water that dripped from the ice wall. In a matter of moments, this all changed. Loud clanking of metal grinding against hulking metal screeched against the quiet night, rustling a disturbance at the great wall. From a distance, one would see shadows of black moving forward at a slow rate, bringing their aura of death with them.

 

--

 

 

 

 

--

 

At the center of the group stood the Lord of the Dread. The nine foot behemoth almost dwarfed by the great wall, his great helm filled with nothingness stared at the obstacle. His armor filled with the death and hatred that only one that has nothing left could muster. Next to him stood Magnus, his Dread Regent, and to his other side, The Flesh Magnate. Behind him fell the tools of his will, the constructs that were confined to a fate worse than hell itself. Their freshly smithed black armor casted the aura of death and despair around them like a fitted blanket. They were almost eager for a kill, something to please their master. 

 

--

 

 

--

 

As the sound of clashing metal deceased, the group fell into a set formation. The Flesh Magnate took a dramatic step forwards, the Black Knights shifting as the massive golden horn was produced. He took a deep breath before exhaling into the massive horn, an echoing blast sprouting from the instrument, hoping to wake something. The Traitors of the Iron Crown patiently planted their metal roots into the cold and unforgiving earth below them, looking for new allegiance and beginnings..

 

--

 

Note: We are /not/ at the Teuton base! We are standing near and isolated part of the wall.

 

(( I plan on making this march whenever/if you guys decide to RP back. Thanks! ))

[Elindor 666]

Elindor felt their approach long before he saw them. Scarpering behind a snow mound, he muzzles the accompanying snow dogs to keep them quiet. His eyes watch from a short distance as the dread knights march. His image hidden from view to all with conscious thought.

[Zarsies 6795]

[[Chaq is making the response post to this soon, he's just been a tad busy. You are not forgotten!]]

[Princeton 396]

(( Thanks for letting me know! :3 ))

[Chaqery 427]

---

The echoes of the ancient horn's salute hefted themselves into the air, only to be swept away and tattered by the unforgiving northern wind. For what must have seemed an eternity, the call of the Dread Knights was unanswered. Whatever force ruled the lands beyond the great glacier remained silent.

Far off, in the land of Burzûmkûtotaz, that land of shadow, the din of an army on the move dominated the ambiance. Foundries and forges filled the hellish sky with smoke and ash. The wicked siege equipment lay sheltered in the various workshops. An endless collumn of tainted, cruel, and armored creatures shuffles along to the beat of the smith's hammers. There was a continent to seize, after all.

---

Meanwhile upon the glacial barrier, a shriek, cold and metallic sent cracks all down the ice. It was an unnatural sound, one that invoked illogical fear and panic into the hearts of mortals. In it's weakened state, a sheet of ice splinters free and tumbles, sending ice and snow about the impact site like a thick smog.

From the shards of ice and snow being scattered by the wind, a lone rider paces slowly into view. Rider and horse alike seem spectral, and the tattered sanguine cloak of the mysterious figure flapped loosely in the wind, carrying with it what almost seemed like whispers into the barren wastes.

Upon the great wall, figures began to dot the horizon. Ashen and blackened banners were risen, before a flurry of horns echoed a final response to these new arrivals.

[Kickstarted and Running 965]

Magnus stood in the throng of Dread Knights, all rallied around a banner of stitched flesh, decorated with blood, entrails, and bones, in the center stood the Dread Lord Aelor, Magnus at it's side as the Dread Regent

 

 

​The Dread Regent Magnus stood immobile for a moment, looking at the figures,  it began to ride forward on it's massive warhorse, slow, purposeful and  loud steps, the like of which reminded mortals of thunder and boulders thrown upon walls, slowly to the rider in black.

 

 

 

Slowly Magnus dismounted, and it closed the last few meters on foot, slow as before, and shorter than atop it's horse, but just an menacing.

 

 

Then Magnus spoke...

 

It's voice was like cogs and gears, rusted, and breaking, grinding on one another, a sound that would drive lesser men to their knees with agony, and drive them mad with time.

 

 

 

"I am the Regent of Dread, and you may treat with me."

 

[Watyll 1104]

((With Chaq's leave I'll be finishing this up))

 

The lone figure glides down the glacial wall, horse kicking up small flakes of blackened ice and snow as it rides downwards towards the waiting Knights of Dread. The army of Glurtzfolok waits atop the glacial peak, archers nocking twisted arrows of bone and obsidian onto still more twisted bows of aged wood and wizened tissue. All is quiet on both sides as the figure awaits at the base of the wall, halting his dark mount.

 

 

The wind blows violently in the North, but the figures cloak does not blow in the wind as it should, staying still, draped around the dark figure like a burial shroud. Deep ember eyes glow out from the black hood of the cloak, and a sudden pain, like a spike, pierces the mind of the Regent of Dread, burrowing into his innermost thoughts. A single word is made clear.

 

"Come."

 

The red eyes watch from barren blackness.

 

[Kickstarted and Running 965]

Magnus marched forward, joining the ranks of the Northmen

 

 

He would turn around to face his comrades once

 

 

Through his metalic voice, the words echo out across to his fellows

 

"Come"