Fall of Evil: The Devil of Ter Mur is Vanquished. Athenaeum is Conquered.
WarderDragon
It is over.
The Devil of Ter Mur - the Defiler of Rhista and the Queen - has been vanquished on the slopes of Athenaeum Isle.
It began with a summons. A call to all who would stand with the Gargish Queen. It would seem Her Holiness - the Defender of Ter Mur and High Broodmother - has lost favor with her people. For few amongst her own people answered. Indeed she marched to the Isle without so much as an escort of her own.
It was the humans who answered her call. And elves. The Sons of Britannia and the Daughters of Magincia. Northerners and Feluccans. Knights and Pirates. Banded together to shed the blood of a daemon.
There at the center of the Void storm the Queen and her mercenaries gathered. There where the Defiler and Rhista stood trapped in a torment once thought eternal. Stone where flesh once graced. Moss to cover the parts where clothing and armor had long since rotted away.
"Your Majesty," a voice intoned. "Shall we?"
The Queen looked to the man. "We shall."
She raised the ceremonial rod high above her head and chanted ...reversing the flawed incantation she had casted centuries before. The ground stirred. Earth and pebbles cascaded into the Void below. And then the roar.
The Minions of Scelestus - his Daemonic Generals and Void Servants - rushed to aid their infernal master as he awoke. But to no avail. The Blades of the Lightsworn and the Vampiric Incantations of Necromancers battered his accursed form until - at last - his corporeal form collapsed upon the ground.
The Queen borrowed a blade and stepped forward. Cursing the Defiler under her breath she heaved the weapon high ...and brought it down upon his arm in a gruesome spray of blood.
Turning - the black ichor coating her armor and face - she spoke. "What do you humans say?" She raised the gored limb high. "Commemoration?"
WarderDragon
It is over.
The Devil of Ter Mur - the Defiler of Rhista and the Queen - has been vanquished on the slopes of Athenaeum Isle.
It began with a summons. A call to all who would stand with the Gargish Queen. It would seem Her Holiness - the Defender of Ter Mur and High Broodmother - has lost favor with her people. For few amongst her own people answered. Indeed she marched to the Isle without so much as an escort of her own.
It was the humans who answered her call. And elves. The Sons of Britannia and the Daughters of Magincia. Northerners and Feluccans. Knights and Pirates. Banded together to shed the blood of a daemon.
There at the center of the Void storm the Queen and her mercenaries gathered. There where the Defiler and Rhista stood trapped in a torment once thought eternal. Stone where flesh once graced. Moss to cover the parts where clothing and armor had long since rotted away.
"Your Majesty," a voice intoned. "Shall we?"
The Queen looked to the man. "We shall."
She raised the ceremonial rod high above her head and chanted ...reversing the flawed incantation she had casted centuries before. The ground stirred. Earth and pebbles cascaded into the Void below. And then the roar.
The Minions of Scelestus - his Daemonic Generals and Void Servants - rushed to aid their infernal master as he awoke. But to no avail. The Blades of the Lightsworn and the Vampiric Incantations of Necromancers battered his accursed form until - at last - his corporeal form collapsed upon the ground.
The Queen borrowed a blade and stepped forward. Cursing the Defiler under her breath she heaved the weapon high ...and brought it down upon his arm in a gruesome spray of blood.
Turning - the black ichor coating her armor and face - she spoke. "What do you humans say?" She raised the gored limb high. "Commemoration?"
..it looks like it was a great turnout and a heck or a lotta fun...sorry I missed it
