April 3, 2265
Maud’madir is under siege.
A foul alliance of Man and Demon ravages the lands of all those that once swore to the Light. Those that are willing to bend the knee are made to serve, while those that are not are slaughtered like suckling pigs. Their towns are razed, their fields salted, and their very hopes are washed away by the demonic tide.
Several of these foul butchers have been captured by those who still hold fast to the Light, and were subsequently put to the question. Yet, despite having seemingly very little in common, each and every single one of these demonic-tainted warriors has told the same tale. When the Hell King violated the very fabric of Arthos with his globe-spanning spell, hundreds of thousands were slain as the presence of divine magic or favour upon them became a most foul curse, ripping their very spirits from their flesh in an instant. While some were saved before death could claim them, or when others were at least strong enough of spirit to resurrect, many instead met what should have been their final end.
Ultimately, It was not.
When these beings opened their eyes, they did not bear witness to the glories of the heavens that they felt that they were owed, that they deserved for all the grim deeds they had done in the name of the Light.
Before them stretched a vast, desolate plain of nearly infinite size, its sand - pulverized bones of a million innocents. The skies that developed them were as a shrieking tempest, the spirits of countless damned mortals wailing their regrets and laments as they were whipped about like cloth in a hurricane. At the center of this horrific place stood a ziggurat of what was once white marble, now stained black by a literal ocean of divine blood that had long since scabbed over. As these spirits walked towards the foot of this grim edifice, they passed by hundreds of still living trophies, monuments to the overwhelming power & glory of the realm’s occupant.
Mounted upon blackened pikes stood the heads of both Gods and Dragons, the light of sentience still reflected faintly in their eyes, but the majority of their mind was clearly lost to madness.
Not even the strongest willed spirit amongst the throngs that shuffled to the foot of the Ziggurat could bear to look upon the figure who sat upon the loathsome throne atop its peak, for even the barest of glances invited madness and insanity. Perhaps then, that is why those present on that day or on subsequent occurrences choose not to focus on that sublime being, and instead remember what hung in the air above it.
The Black Sun.
Awash in its midnight radiance, a voice echoed forth onto the minds of each and every spirit. To those that would serve it promised power, glory, victory, and a place in the New Order that the Hellstack would impress upon all of creation. To those that refused, it promised only an eternity of torment, without the release of death or dissolution. Of those spirits, we know precious little, save that not even the strongest mystics were incapable of calling to them.
Those spirits that accepted the pact all had their own reasons for doing so. Some merely craved the power that it offered, for the previously fallen Church of Light they had fought for had just been a socially-acceptable way to indulge their darker impulses. Some gave in out of despair, reasoning that the Gods they had served in life were either truly dead, gone, or weak enough for the distinction to be unimportant. And for some, the mental fog that clouded their minds during their service to Roderick Hale never truly faded, and they simply believed that they continued uninterrupted along the same grim, yet righteous path. Whatever the case may be, all those who accepted the power of the Black Sun found themselves restored to the world of the living, empowered with both the powers of the Hellstack and divine power stolen from the Celestial realms.
Calling themselves the “Temple of the Black Sun,’ these once supposedly-righteous warriors quickly organized when they returned to the mortal plane, and with entire legions of demonic soldiers at their command they began to lay waste to what was once the Kingdom of Teifanue. Without the presence of Prince Leopold or any of his divinely appointed bloodline, its people have remained scattered and weak. Castle Lightguard was the first to fall to the Hell King’s unobfuscated demonic horde, and the pattern that was established there was then repeated countless times across the countryside. Whereas Hale had once believed that the actions of himself and his armies still served the Light, these monsters suffer no such delusions. They knew exactly what they were doing as they butchered Castle Lightguard’s people and looted priceless magical artifacts from its vaults. Since that horrific day, countless other settlements have met the same fate, and the horde shows little sign of slowing down…
The other nations of the Whiteraven Alliance have hardly fared better. Demonic cults, once the product of gossip and whispered rumors, have thrown off their cloaks of obfuscation and have begun to strike out openly at the forces of the Light in earnest. Already beset by the chaos that has engulfed Maud’madir and suffering from the losses that the Divine Severance inflicted upon their populaces, many of these nations were ill-prepared for these assaults. Their respective militaries, economies, and societies along with their leadership have truly been stretched to the breaking point. The Council of Elders has not met in months, and little to no cooperation currently exists between its various member-states. Most are simply too focused on their own survival to look past their borders and provide aid to their allies.
The Empire of Berphaunt and its client kingdoms remain closed off from the chaos that threatens to envelop the continent, and curiously this approach seems to have more or less had the desired effect. While scattered demonic assaults have touched upon the outskirts of the Empire, none of their great cities have felt the full measure of the Hellstack’s might. Berphaunt and its possessions lie almost completely unharmed, and while isolated from much of the world, life seems to continue for its citizens as it always has. Many beings, both from within the Empire and outside of it, have questioned why this is the way it is. And while there are many theories why the Empire yet remains largely unmolested, the dominant and cynical view that is commonly expressed across the continent is that quite simply, the armies of the Hellstack have already defeated the Empire. For despite all of its manpower, vast magical, economic, and military might, it does not seem to be willing to wield it. Thus, it is not a threat. Pleas for aid from all corners of Maud’madir, even from nations that would have considered the Empire their sworn enemy, lie unheeded and unanswered by the Emperor and his subjects. Indeed, the only evidence that the Empire stirs at all lies with a sudden and unexplained burst of activity from the Conclave. The Red and White towers have recently stirred to life in a manner not seen since the creation of the Gargalen, and entire teams of Archmages have left their tower laboratories in search of ancient arcane secrets.
Yet, all hope is not yet lost. Queen Seltia Allana of Felnir has rallied what remains of the repentant Church of Light to her banner, and alongside a host of her loyal Savar, fights a brutal running war with the Temple of the Black Sun in Teifanue. Where they all she could muster, it is doubtful the noble Queen could offer the demons anything more than a token resistance. Fortunately, she is not alone in this fight.
Queen Revna Mothersblood has united the Einish clans and surged south out of Mjoll, her horde of furious northern barbarians gleefully taking the fight to the cultists and their demonic masters. While most are more than happy for the aid that the Einish bring, rumors abound of entire swaths of land forsaking their bonds to Teifanue and swearing oaths of service to Queen Mothersblood. Whether this happens out of fear or out of genuine gratitude and respect is still as of yet uncertain, and some still deny that these developments occurred at all. Queen Allana has heard these rumors, but she dares not check her fellow Queen, because like it or not, all of Teifanue would have since been food for the demons were it not for the Einish warbands. She also remains torn by the fact that ultimately, it is not a war she can win, even with an army of furious Einher at her back. That much is obvious to even the lowest of her soldiers, And yet, still they continue to fight, for it is a cause worth fighting for.