August 4th, 2261, Amaranthia, Ta-Ba-Ret’s Spawning Pit.
Individuals from all nations gathered for the final assault. The tension in the air was only matched by the emboldened spirits of those readying for battle. Those who held onto hope for a future finally free of the Brood’s infestation. Those who let the smoldering ruins of Suvant bring indignant fury and resolve to their hearts. In the end, each personal reason drove everyone forward to the Ta-Ba-Ret’s spawning pit and lair. The Firstborn and Gods gave great boons to their followers in the forms of greater Marks of the Firstborn and Blessings. Each carried a shred of their vast power, in the hopes that it would be enough to batter down Ta-Ba-Ret’s defenses. The adventurers cleaved through wave after wave of Brood, gaining ground until the spawning pit was close in sight. As they approached, Ta-Ba-Ret, still copying Ga’more’s flesh, berated them for daring to think they could kill him. Try as they might, the warriors of Maud’madir could not truly harm Ta-Ba-Ret as he lay waste to the forces. As they finally emerged into the pools of primordial essence within the Dragon’s lair, Ta-Ba-Ret shouted a singular phrase to the sky: “NOW! WITNESS PERFECTION!”
His form twisted and cracked, like a beetle discarding its carapace, as he transformed into the gigantic Humanoid form seen during the first Celestial War. Swiftly, those marked by the Dragons activated their magic, swelling with power. They battered into the lines of Brood to buy the Light and Dark followers precious time. One by one, each member of the respective Churches began rites to summon the Archangels they had encountered before. The ‘converted’ Angel of Roland and the Angel of Darkness soon strode forward into battle, as the God followers channeled their blessings to bolster their own strength alongside them. The Angels and valiant warriors carved away at the colossal form of Ta-Ba-Ret until he could hold it no longer. His skin sloughed away to dust, as chitinous scales emerged. The Brood Firstborn had taken its true Draconic Form.
The Light Angel, its energy spent, died in an explosion of holy magic, while the Dark Angel dissipated, promising to hold true to its earlier agreement. Holy and unholy consecrations and desecrations began being implemented by those of Divinity to weaken Ta-Ba-Ret. After what seemed like hours, the Deific attacks of the God followers and physical assault from all else destabilized the massive Dragon. Summoning the last of its power, Ta-Ba-Ret shifted into his true Mortal Form. Scale and shell mixed in dark browns and greens across his body. Vicious talons overflowed with Draconic mana, extending from his twitching fingertips. A long, armored snout with both teeth and mandible snarled in wordless rage. With each swipe of its piercing claws, Ta-Ba-Ret sliced his way through the adventurers. Their weapons could find little purchase against his hide. It was then Wigzozz, bearer of the First Axe of War, barreled through the throngs of fighters. He held the weapons aloft, slamming the haft into Ta-Ba-Ret’s back. Instinctually turning to see what fool dared to strike him from behind, the Dragon briefly let down its guard. The Orc, invoking the ancient orcish words spoken by the first wielder of the axe, then plunged the axe into the wound on his head, finishing the job the Thunder God started, and splitting his skull in two.There came a flash of dispersing energy, as if Ta-Ba-Ret’s natural magic was torn asunder. The axe-head sunk with a crunch into the beast’s brain, as the stunned Firstborn slowly fell backwards to the ground. Bloodlust in his eyes, Wigzozz began to carve out Ta-Ba-Ret’s heart… but the creature had one final trick left. With incredible speed, as if the corpse was acting on its own, the body lurched upright. A fleshy tube was rammed down the Orc’s throat for but a moment before a small Brood burst from his chest, instantly killing him, and desperately trying to escape the battlefield. Seeing this, the entirety of the bloodied combatants descended on the bug with boot and blade, pulverizing it and sending guts and gore into the air. Ta-Ba-Ret, finally, had fallen.
August 4th, 2261, Amaranthia, Prism Discordia
Celebrations were held across all camps and factions from Maud'Madir and Amaranthia. Perhaps none more joyous than the party hosted by Essylt and her retinue within the Prism Discordia. The revelry was unlike anything this Thalan has witnessed in recent memory. Essylt brought drinks and rods of glowing light. With each passing smile, heavy hearts were lifted. With each note of the squeezebox's tune, the tears of pain turned to relief. With each bottle passed, bonds were forged and friendships were made. Few remained tense and alert; myself included, waiting for the inevitable interruption. The arrow in the night. The death from the shadows. The sound that would bring this joy crashing down and shatter this moment. Such a thing never came to pass. This night was for the victorious alone. At least for most.
As many attended the rolling party that was Essyllt’s company, some were called to other matters. Warchief Grundella staggered into the Prism, her age for the first time showing on her skin. She demanded to see Warchief Gigoliath, and would entertain no one else until he arrived. Fearing the worst, the Ogre rushed to her side, only for her to growl out a challenge. Her final wish as the self-proclaimed leader of the Sons of Sprawn, now Savage Legion, was to die by the hands of one worthy to kill her. The winner would control the Savage Legion for as long as they could. Gigoliath accepted the challenge, surrounded by his kin and friends. For only Orcs would dare, either through bravery or stupidity, hold combat amongst each other, directly after ending a war. In a show of Brew Mastery, Gigoliath finished the fight with a flurry of punches. The Brewlord Clan raised her up on a black metal shield, carrying her out of the Prism with the resounding chant: “We carry. We fall. We rise.”
The festivities at the makeshift tavern area within the Prism continued, until late into the night.
Elsewhere, death was finding victims with brutal efficiency. There was one group of allies in the war that would never leave Amaranthia, let alone see another sunrise.
August 5th, 2261, Amaranthia. Main camp of The Ragnatughn.Sun Juter of the Jhen Lupus returns to the camp to see how her new allies have fared. The webs surrounding the area were destroyed. She found nothing but death in the busy camp she had visited earlier. There was no battle here, it had been a slaughter. There were far more dead Funnel Webs, than one would think. Some horrific fate had befallen these thalan and therians and it was clear from their weaponless hands it was not expected. Betrayal in some form and it was obvious that brood were not responsible for this massacre. She returned to the prism with sorrowful news.
August 5th, 2261, Amaranthia. Prism Discordia.
Princess Louisa and Prince Leopold entered into the Prism together, a sight that was both relieving to some and troubling to others. They had put aside their differences to inform the adventurers that they believed that Shiloth, by now known to be the Empress Annadonna Cordelle, was losing control over Emperor Louis the further he was from her lair in Berphaunt. Her control was only barely held by the presence of Imrik whom she used as a conduit for her charming magic over the Emperor. The Prince and Princess spoke that the Empire encampment was attacked by escaped House Shalonost members, including a furious Jjik’da. The Emperor was badly wounded, and would need to be transported by Shiloth’s forces to his Juggernaut Warship, “Loyalty.” The duo convinced those present to assist them in heading off the guards and freeing the Emperor from Imrik and Shiloth’s forces. In the ensuing battle, the Emperor’s son Damarion was safely removed from the battlefield by Kam’raen de L’Ombre, while Imrik was engaged. With the Dragon Knight’s death, Louis’ mind became once again his own. He was carried to the Prism by Callum McKraken, Capri Aquari, and Gigoliath The Flame Thrower. A blue-horned Wood Fae called Zubair made sure to utilize his removal of charms on both the child and Emperor to make certain that Shiloth’s machinations were expunged from their bodies. Lastly, Java Aquari, a Greenskin Shaman, did his damndest to help heal the Emperor's wounds
The Archbishop appeared atop a platform within the Prism while Ashter of the Dawn circled beneath. He congratulated everyone for their victory over Ta-Ba-Ret, but announced that the unparalleled tolerance of the Church of Light was now over. He waxed upon the recent history of Tiefanue, and the absence of support from without. He declared that any followers of the light were free to attend him and depart these lands, but the ships intended to take the remaining forces from Amaranthia had been destroyed. The crowd began to cry out in anger, as Hale continued. He told Prince Leopold that it was he who had killed his brother; and just before this battle, his father, King Roland Tiefanue. Prince Leopold cried out in anguish and swore the White Raven Alliance would bring the Archbishop to justice. Hale spat back a declaration that he held firm control of the alliance.
Samara the Ungraved, Lich of the Black Cathedral of Berphaunt, and Head of the Church of Darkness, interrupted the dialogue and came forward. After a brief exchange of hateful words, she had heard enough of this speech. Drawing back her hand to let loose Malagant’s Dark magic, Hale interrupted her spell with but a wave of his hand. His gaze fell to Samara as he clenched his outstretched hand into a fist. Invoking Roland’s name, a violent miracle began to take place. Samara dropped to her knees, screaming in agony as flesh healed back over her necromantic bones. Her living state was restored for all to see… She had been made living by the Cleric of Roland, a power thought to be impossible. She immediately fell comatose and was later escorted to by the Conclave for further study.
Tezoth emerged into the Prism, demanding to know why an immense burst of Divine mana was unleashed inside. As Hale taunted the Golden Dragon, the crowd cried for him to utilize his breath weapon upon the Archbishop. The audacity of this human’s actions within this sacred place gave Tezoth all the cause he needed. Tezoth acquiesced the outcry, firing a blast of his breath weapon at Hale. Final Judgement swallowed the cleric upon the podium where he stood. The rays coursed around Roderick Hale, but as they faded it was revealed they did no harm.
The crowd was taken aback, as was Tezoth himself. “This is impossible…” the Dragon uttered through his golden mask.
“I am without sin,” Hale replied with a pleasant smile. The ogre Cleric of Roland, Ostrozne was upon the platform with The ArchBishop.The Ice Elf Kaiva Ellore, the Orc Locke, the Humans Ser Alberto Almasy and Ser Aldos Teeryn of the Blood Red Rose were gathered at the base of the platform. Ashter of the Dawn stepped forward and plunged her blade into the floor of the prism. A pillar of swirling flame erupted which covered them all. As it dispersed, only Ostrozne and Aldos remained. The others had vanished, leaving everyone seemingly stranded on Amaranthia.
The feelings of contempt across those gathered had little time to be felt, as Shiloth appeared, her blue eyes locked on Louis.
“Give me my son,” she said coldly.
“Your control is broken,” Louis replied. “He is your son no longer!”
Shiloth looked to her Dragon Knight, the High Elven woman Kam’raen de L’Ombre, with a twinge of aggravation. “Kam’raen, bring me Damarion. Now.”
There was a pause as Kam’raen stared the Empress down. “No… I denounce you! I strip myself of my Knighthood!”
Shiloth’s’ eyes widened, as an utterly dumbfounded expression crossed her face. “YOU?! YOU DENOUNCE ME?!”
The Mark of the Firstborn on the Elf’s cheek dissipated into wisps of shadow as she smirked at the fuming former Empress. She plucked a pin from her hair, whispering the name ‘Berphaunt’ at it, before hurling the object at The Emperor. The needle whisked around all in its path, including a brave Avian named Doctor Moran who leaped in front of it’s path, attuned to the royal bloodline as its target. Before the pin could finish it’s deadly flight, Princess Louisa lept into its path. Her eyes met her father’s for only the briefest of moments, but the love they both saw in each other told much. Louisa had found her love for her father once more, her eyes told him she was sorry for everything. Louis remembered the daughter he knew before his will was taken, he forgave her everything and was just as sorry. The pin drove itself deep into Louisa’s back and completed its task. The life of a Berphaunt was extinguished fully, and the light and love in a daughter’s eyes faded and became lifeless. Shiloth shrugged as her circle transported her away from the Prism. A whisper filled the area stating only that this game may be over, but a new one was set to begin.
Both Emperor and Prince began to spit curses at one another while tears of grief ran freely down their faces. Each laid a litany of blame upon the other for all that had happened, and now the death of Louisa. The Emperor held his son in his arm with the other still strapped to his shield. Leopold seized the advantage by reaching forward and drawing the sword from the sheath built into Louis’ shield. The Emperor reacted quickly and rolled his body so he was over Damarion; his exposed back there for the striking. The Prince hefted the heavy blade high above his head, but then gave pause. Realization dawned upon him and his features softened. He could not and should not allow his grief to bring him to kill Louisa’s father and brother. He could not allow hatred to cause him to end the life of a child. He lets the sword slip from his hands and drops to his knees. He is a man with no family, no country, and is completely defeated.
Emperor Louis Berphaunt stands and gently hands his child safely to Doctor Moran He picks up his blade and stands over the deflated and defeated Leopold Tiefanue. The assembled mass of adventurers are still, and the air is thick with tension. Anticipation that the Emperor is about to lay down his own judgement now, is palpable. When he speaks, it is with a voice of authority and conviction.
“We have both lost so much. Our Empires lay in ruins. We are both betrayed by those we trusted. We have both lost a great love. We are similar in so many ways, but do you know what makes us different?”
The Emperor’s arm rises as he grips his blade tightly. All the air leaves the room as those gathered await the fatal strike.
“Do you know what sets us apart?” Louis demands a second time, but there is no answer. There is likewise no death stroke of the shining blade held above their heads. Instead, the blade finds its home in the sheath concealed within Louis shield. He extends a hand slowly to Leopold.
“I have a crown!” he says. “Let’s go get yours back.”
The crowd cheers as two powers are united and it seems the blood shed and drama of this day may be at an end. Tezoth halts the elation with his dour mood, and declares there is still one matter that must be resolved. The First Born, Essylt had been standing quietly away from all the commotion. She nodded and shrugged slightly, then walked toward the dragon circle with her head held high. Her confidence belying the trouble she was in.
Tezoth escorted her to the draconic circle for judgement. He summoned his kin, but none came. Essylt explained that she had used her collected favours, done for the other Firstborn through her marked servants, to stay her judgment. He nodded in understanding and declared that though the favors these mortals had done would keep the others away from passing judgement, he was still present and would not be swayed. He stated that she was guilty of the crimes presented to the council however her actions and deeds would decide her final fate. If she was just and good then perhaps she would be spared however if she had committed moral and ethical crimes, his breath weapon would reveal the verdict of her situation. Raising his arms, the circle itself began to emanate the burning light of his breath.
Essylt began to burn with the sin of her past deeds. Her fragile fae-like wings were incinerated and delicate skin began to sear, but she did not perish. The light dimed and the assault was done. Shuddering in pain and gasping, she stood up and stared at him with defiance,Tezoth again declared that though she had severed herself from her domain, she was forbidden to ever leave it again.He declared that should she defy this ruling, Essylt would find herself once more in this circle to be judged by her fellow dragons. She fought through the pain she must have been feeling and straightened her back. Head held high, she walked out of the circle. Her followers rushed to her side to offer her comfort and care.
Oblivion appeared and made the demand of being granted the vacant territory that was Ta-Ba-Ret’s. Tezoth’s only response was that it would be put to a vote. Both Dragons stomped off in different directions. Oblivion departed the Prism, none so brave to stand in his path as he crossed back to the deadlands. Teszoth’s own path was occupied by the mass of mortals still within the prism.
The realization that they had no means of return became the priority of the moment. Tezoth declared that all mortals must depart from this sacred place immediately. The Emperor and Leopold explaining that they came to these shores as aid against their collective enemy.
The dragon halts their speech and informs them he has already summoned his own ships to carry as many as they are able. However, his ships will only bear the presence of those who abide by the will of the firstborn. The rest may take passage through the roots of the world tree to their homes.
As they made their way to the root, Alastair of Jericho pledged his sword and spirit to Prince Leopold, leaving his life behind forever to travel with the deposed Prince.
And so they all left Amaranthia, victorious but with great losses.
AFTERMATH
While the main forces situated within The Prism Discordia and surrounding safe camps were able to depart Amaranthia, not all were so lucky. Likely unknown to those who were able to return to safety and share stories around the fire, many more would never see their homeland again. Shiloth removed all her pieces from the game board, leaving disarray and confusion all across Maud’madir. Archbishop Roderick Hale assumed control of Tiefanue, placing the Church of Light in command. The non-militant citizens of Suvant remain within the temporary camps upon Melinda, with no clear path for their future. The Empire is struggling to regain a sense of structure and stability. Even The Conclave are reeling at loses of members, but also resources and secrets long kept until Shiloth’s minions vanished.
The Brood on Amaranthia continue to run feral, attacking with abandon with no unifying hive mind. Nearly two thirds of all the forces abandoned on Amaranthia fell to their claws and teeth. The Skein gates simply being unable to accomodate the numbers in time. With no ships, no supplies, and no intelligence controlling the enemy; the brood became a disorganized chaotic tide. The remaining military forces had nowhere to fall back to. The fate of The Savage legion remains unknown. The Gnomes of Terror Mountain are unreachable. The fallen city nation of Suvant remains a pile of broken memories and legacy. Rescue forces no longer able to search through her broken buildings, streets, and towers.
Unknown to most, it seems the highest toll in the final battle was that the Church of Light delivered upon their enemies by burning those precious ships. As the only surviving faction to save the vast majority of their numbers, the future may be cast in Light but may be very grim indeed.