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The Perished Meadows


Ibn Khaldun
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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zCTWp7heCaU

 

Marching through the meadows in which the Anthos Crossroad was inlaid, the many soldiers of varying rank and file within the Dwarven Legion and the varying Oren militaries had crossed the Rubicon finally as war broke out along Central Anthos. Axe met sword and the heavy infantries and archers did away with the calm loamy soil one pluck at a time as arrow upon arrow tilled the earth; readying to be fed the blood money as man and dwarf collided in a match of wit and strength. Through hours of grueling tactical maneuvers, the sun pleading with skin-prickling rays of light upon and through layers of armor for the spawn of Urguan and Horen to not cross the point of no return; soldiers of varying heights and mettle clashed in time. As sword and board danced along the Cloudwater Bridge, Man had planted heel and pushed, it's numbers making for the harshest charge to finally open the crevices of the Dwarven lines and inevitably led to the routing of the Dwarves back to which they felt safer.

 

As Man marched to and fro, firstly in a reckless and endearing charge, then back from whence they came. The strewn bodies of dwarf and man laid for vultures to partake in feast, where man earns haughty impressions of himself and the sword of his fallen foe; vultures do commit to a charitable feast in which they need not be invited. The scene, especially at the Dwarven end of Cloudwater Bridge, is a most gruesome one not for the ones unsettled by the lifeless. The Perished Meadows have now adapted to it's new dress of bones, blood, and unsightly things; the odor rank and the sight tinging many with tears and haunting dreams. Will the denizens of Anthos hearken to what symbolism this may portray?

 

2013-06-22_202407.png

 

((I would like to state that some bodies are out and about, you do NOT need a VA to loot them))

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Hunwald sighs as he recollects some of his mind, making his way through the countless bodies of Dwarves.

 

"Why did Dwarf-Shortie make break of good pact? Peace could of channel all through Anthos! Niet, Dwarf must break pact and cause this! Hopefully they's working on surrender-message. This war should make end," Hunwald mutters to himself as he finally exits the past battlefield, breathing in new fresh air. He starts off for Kralta, carrying a few bags or two of loot and his own items he took with him to the battle, to him known as The Massacre at the Cross.

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The Bird Druid looks at the bodies and turns away without a word, running, running from the horror and death.

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Lorik stares at the what seems to be thousands of dead Men, Dwarves, Orcs, and Khas. He mumbles to himself about what could have been,

 

"If none of that killing crap 'appened, this might not 'ave occured... But what be done be done. Hopefully all this nonsense can come to an end so they don't 'aste more soldiers."

 

Lorik sighs, as he continues on the path heading towards his home of Kralta.

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A tall figure, familiar upon the roads, stood at the other side of the river that divided the defiled and untouched lands. His ears twitch as the unpleasant squawk of birds rings from afar, and his lips are pursed to a tight line as he scans the horizon. Its former smooth silhouette now jagged with jutted limbs and broken banners. 

 

He glances back and forth upon the road, then back to the gruesome view before him. He does not speak, he does not sigh, he does 'pin a note'. 

 

If one would find his behavior odd, he would tell you... "It is far more odd that wars happen more than holidays, but I am not surprised. Those corpses before you, perished in vain."

And so the roads' beckons do send.

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The Teutons are ordered back to the castle, but Leopold stays behind a bit longer to admire the carnage, pondering it. There's a certain beauty to it; the bodies and blood laying in stark contrast to the serene countryside. Who were these fools, to think they could even scratch the might of humanity? Kill them all, Leopold thinks. Dwarves make some cozy halls and he'd love to have one for himself.

 

The familiar lust for war awoken in him, he begins the trek back to the castle, content with the new trophies he has for his collection.

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*Zahrer walks freely through the battlefield after the humans leave.

"Well lads dey still can' du shite. Up next beh Storm Crossin. Le's see 'em take dat."

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*Admist the bodies, a bloodied Ulfric walks through them. He has Dwarven blood plastered over his armour and sword, and a huge grin on his face*

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Walks through the meadows and sees his friends body lay, and then thinks about things.

"I am upset, that my friends died, but at least I survived"

 

((I really want a zombie head or a steve head...))

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Gregory mills about in the quiet battlefield, his only source of illumination being the reddish tips of sunlight slowly creeping over the horizon. He wears his hat low to ward off the soft drizzle; his head lower as he stares down at the cracked bits of flesh and iron littering the grass. Slowly, he stops to inspect a half-naked Dwarf already being plucked apart by scavenging crows. Gregory gives the body's crushed skull a single, respectful nod before carrying on.

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*Telchar sits in the back of a rowboat as two injured Naval soliders man the oars. The dark looming shadow of the great ship "Yemakers Hammer" comes into view slowly.*

 

Telchars face is grim as he clutches a crimson stained bandage at his side and he mutters "Feckin' cowardly beardlin's canne hold dere own on open grounds. Lets 'ope t'e solid walls ov t'e fortress will provide t'e courage dey lack w'en we next face t'e Oren scum"

 

*The two Naval soliders simply nod in agreement as they row closer to the ship*

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((When this will be cleaned up, can I get 1 zombie head and maybe one human head as well?))

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((The Lannisters won the first battle against the north, but were soon horrendously defeated in the Whispering Wood. I hope the same will happen with Oren))

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Axel looks towards the dead. Then he throws up and runs.

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