[M]Karael: War Path [IC]

[L]

Council Palace,
Northern Quarter of Azan

Stepping in to the massive Council Chambers in Azan's Palace was akin to stepping in to a zoo full of gnomes. Chaos reigned when Council was in session and a hundred or so little people – some wearing mage robes while others had technical gadgets on their heads, or arms – the only mark that they were inventors. And there was no such thing as a quiet conversation as many of the gnomes shouted to be heard. Some of the stranger ones even had shouting matches with thin air.

Amongst the chaos, a spell here, or a gadget there, would be flung across the room and even the occasional fist fight would break out amongst the most heated arguments.

The Head Councilor was called Hedmil Nerzig, a tallish gnome with a bright red robe, and currently waving a finger violently in another gnomes face.

This particular argument had been going on for the past 10 hours and had seen some spectacular fireworks – literally – explode in the Council Chambers, as well as a number of the light globes floating around the room spontaneously busting.

The red tape involved in fixing a broken light globe in down-town Azan was serious business.

It was at a point in the argument that a messenger Orc arrived, interrupting the Head Councilor's argument. The Orc bowed ceremoniously.

'Councilor Nerzig. I have a message from Commander Grakel of the Burna Boys. He wanted you to know that he found the village destroyed. No sign of survivors. He will be falling back to Azan for your next assignment.'

Hedmil merely waved the messenger off.

'Yes, Yes, have our Ambassadors have some alliances set up with the other Empires and destroy whatever is doing it.

The Gnome turned his back on the Orc and went back to arguing with his fellow Councilor about the broken light globe in Southern Azan.



-

Telarad Restaurant,
Southern Quarter of Azan

Falco sat in the booth at the back of his restaurant and rubbed a hand against his temple. He fought the urge to reach out and smash the young pup's head on the table.
Standing at the end of the booth, nervously fidgeting his feet was a Halfling in drab, dirty clothes and mud smeared face. He kept his head low.

'Listen to me carefully boy,' Falco spoke slowly, but with the authority of a person use to getting his own way, 'I am not interested in your yokel fantasies and children horror stories. There is no such thing as the... what did you call them?'

The halfling stood up straight and sweat rolled down his forehead. He quickly wiped it away.

'The Varzi... Caer Falco' The halfling used the respectful title for Falco – Caer meant Family Head in Halfling.

'VARZI! Like I said, they don't EXIST. This talk of villages attacked and people killed, it's all fairy tales to scare the simple folk. Do I look simple to you boy?'

The 'boy' shook his head violently.

'No Caer Falco'

'No, I am not. Now go bother a simpleton with your craziness. Try those rabid Councilors. Or better yet, try Grimnock – he may do us a favor and go running after them in hope of finding another way to live his disgusting life'

Falco tossed a bread stick at the boy, sending him scrambling away, then turned towards his guest at the booth.

'Varzi... a joke'

'Yes, Caer Falco' was all the hooded human said.

'Now. This... tournament you wish you run. What exactly is in it for me?'

[Sigma]

Meanwhile, miles away from Azan, the Varzi horde numbering in the thousands begun marching for the city. made up of terrifying insectoid creatures, they moved like a plague of locusts upon the lands of Karael. as they killed and devoured every living thing they've sighted, there was no end to their continuous rampage.

At the head of this army was a tall, muscular, and intimidating horned man. his flesh was not like that of any man, twisted and alien. he wore tattered remains of cloth. the man carried with him a large blade.

As he and his army continued the march. they were within viewable distance of the city and stopped under his command. he waited, and wanted to let his enemies feel the fear and the terror that they will experience.

[Higurashi]

The city of Orgimmar was bursting at the seams today, for today was tournament day. It was the day that the new king would be chosen. Much betting went on between the non-contestants, most of the time ending in fist fights. Tyrmaak, the current king, watched from his throne at the top of the arena. The last surviving contestant would challenge him for the throne. Most did not expect Tyrmaak to survive. He was after his prime. Tyrmaak smurked as he watched young hopefuls beat each other to death in a series of interesting and inventive ways.

Three contestants in particular interested Tyrmaak more than the others. These were Rashta the Brave, Kilsi the Axe, and Yritaca the Bull. The first mentioned was the smartest of the group, cunning and quick. The second was the all around most leader-like, and all around best. Finally, the third mentioned was the strongest, he continually prevailed through brute strength. Despite all their good qualities, it was likely that Kilsi would prevail. She had beaten all of her opponents without a scratch to speak of.

Tyrmaak was correct in his opinion. In the final battle, where the trio faced off, she beat her opponents completely unharmed once again. However, she spared them. Tyrmaak was at first unhappy, as was the rest of the crowd. But, after he thought for a bit, he saw the wisdom in this. If Kilsi did manage to prevail over him, the unfortunate pair would be useful, as they owed a life debt to her. Tyrmaak got up from his throne, axe in hand. he entered the ring with the crowds cheering in his ears. Tyrmaak knew that they were not cheering for him.

As he readied himself for battle, Tyrmaak thought back to the day he had found this city. He had entered the desolate place alone, now he knew that he would likely enter the afterlife today.... alone. As the fight started, Tyrmaak started with a normal leg chop, trying to conserve his energy. That was his enemy today, energy, and time. The longer this fight went on, the worsehis condition would be. He MUST end this quickly. Kilsi responded by dodging and trying to swipe his head from his shoulders with her broadsword. Tyrmaak ducked, rolled, and turned around, all in one movement, ending up behind Kilsi's back. He then kick her under the knee, breaking it. Kilsi dropped her sword as her hands flew to her knee. She rolled over in the dirt, looking at him, expecting to die. Tyrmaak raised his axe for the kill.... then stopped. He lowered his axe and held it by his side. He then shoke his head, and departed from the ring.

[Atrum Daemon]

Top of the Grand Spire,
Highest Level of The Black City

The Emperor-Archon of the Keraventrie sat on a single stone broken from the tower, surveying all that lay before him. The Black City took it’s name from the obsidian stone it was built from, making the multi-leveled city a magnificent sight. What drew the Emperor-Archon’s eye the most was the mountainous sword that stood in the square of the central level. It marked both the sight of a rebellion’s end and also the end of the Imperium’s golden age.

Stefan heaved a sigh and tugged at his short goatee as he stood, brushing off the white robes decorated with gold trimming. His bodyguard Veral snapped to attention as he stood, but Stefan waved him off. His cold gray eyes gazed at the sword and he cursed the blade softly. “The gods must truly have a warped sense of humor, Veral,” Stefan said, “slaying all the Archons and leaving me to pick up the pieces of my father’s once might Empire.”

“It is not all bad, my lord,” Veral said.

“I keep telling you to stop that,” Stefan said, irritated. “We grew up together Veral, you don’t have to be so formal when we’re alone.”

“Sorry,” the knight said sheepishly. “All I was going to say was that it has not been as hard as we all thought, right? The Magistrates all recognized you and your appointed Archon’s as leaders.”

“This is true,” Stefan said, fiddling with one of the gold threads that tied the robe shut The outfit was actually a long coat and robe skirt and not a single garment. “But these rumors have me worried.”

“About these so-called Varzi?” asked a deep, smooth voice that belonged to Magister-General Kolgrim.

“Yes,” Stefan nodded, still not turning from the view of the city.

“All reports have come from Azan territory,” Kolgrim said. “That’s much out of our way. Anyway, I came to tell you that Iskander sends his farewells. There he goes.”

Kolgrim pointed to a great black dragon that took off from one of the lower towers bearing a single rider. Stefan nodded, hoping Iskander would bring good news from their outlying territories.

[Dirzrahel]

"BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTLE ROOYALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLE!"

The announcer's voice boomed from one side of the colosseum to the other, the acoustics of the place constructed in that manner because it was a gigantic circle. This was a tournament often held every other season in the city of Gundolath, where young bloods and old codgers fight each other to gain the city's dividend from trade, a crazy amount of gold Gundis that hold a lot of weight in most economies. It was a fight worth taking. Unfortunately, to the dismay of the competitors, their competition was from the city's government itself. The King and his team.

Since there could be only one winner, all other competition had to be knocked out, no matter what.

That was the case at the moment, since the only competitors left were the King's team and the King himself. King Kerrain Guil'tee, formerly known as the Dread Pirate Captain Guil'tee. Darius Darkstalker, a mysterious and peculiar Drow that was King Guil'tee's Royal Advisor. Dirzrahel Favenhall, the leader of the First Protection Squad, and the son of Darius Darkstalker. Though this Drow had a magnificent pair of white angelic wings. Brizyrr Vilvyl, an odd Drow as well that has an interesting history to boot. Let alone, water was surging around his body like a spout. Firenze Nightinggale, leader of the third Protection Squad and the brother to the next leader, Xerxes Nightinggale. Both demons. Both pure elements. Fire and Wind.

The crowd was roaring in anticipation at the moment, because it was not often you got to see government in-fighting at a close-up and personal range.

The floor of the colosseum, known as the Crimson Sea, since the sandy and gritty ground was stained by red liquid every few feet. It had mixed in with the ground and formed a rather unique appearance. Like a yellow, brown, and red marble cake.

The stands around the Crimson Sea were packed to the brim with traders and locals alike, bet-takers begot by bookies and bookies begetting bet-takers. What would be a tournament without gobs of cash being spent on betting? Especially when betting with the governments book-keepers. Since the tournament has been running, the Royal Reserves have been filled with the money of all different nations and kingdoms.

A breeze blew by briskly as bits of sand and red dust played across the Crimson Sea, the sky above casted with flowing cumulus stretches of soft white pillow down and light playing the sky in a tranquil tone of blue brilliance. The sand was punctured by six sets of feet that stayed away from each other in a wide sextogram. Blade tips poked into the soft sand as the contender looked upon each other. One laughed, his chuckle echoing off the walls of the colosseum. A boy's laugh. A child's innocence.

Kerrain Guil'tee stood, leaning his right hand on Degel DeSaga as the blade penetrated the ground. His mouth was open, chuckling heartily, raising his blade and flipping it in his hand and rolling the handle between his fingers in the air. His chest was bare, plagued by scars of battle and mistakes alike, his pants a cheap pair of sack cloth type, flowing freely down his legs and swaying in the breeze as if air itself. His long almond hair was pulled back into a modest ponytail. His clear eyes soon hazed, black miasma emanating like mist, a smile forming on his face.

"We stand up high." The king said in a bold tone, bring Degel DeSaga to a ready stance.

Darius Darkstalker raised an eyebrow, his body strapped together by a hauberk of black dragon skin and leather leggings stitched of fine black dragon skin as well. A forest green cloak played off a fur lining around his neck, his dark skin reflecting the sun's light and playing in the air. His two blades were put forth in his hands, resonating beautifully together like two birds in romance. The blades glowed faintly, a harmonic ring coming from both in faint sound.

"We face our fronts." Darius said in his regularly noble tone.

A black chain trailed upon the sand like a snake slithering along, connecting its mouth to the butt end that was shaped like a spear until the head turned to handle and then an inscribed scythe blade of pitch dark metal. A man of white hair flowed along the owners shoulders, cascading down his chest and over his white garments made of white dragon skin and fit to form. Two giant angelic wings shaded the owner from the harsh sun, his chiseled and perfect face glaring out at the other five. He gathered the chain in his hand in a few twirls and let his wings thrust out, feathers falling cautiously to the ground.

"We do not tremble." Dirzrahel Favenhall said in his youthful voice, the chain rattling in his hand.

Water surged like tsunamis breaking back and forth along the legs of a Drow covered in moss as a garment. A loin cloth covered his lower extremities. He looked at his competition through his hardened blue irised pupils, his fingers sliding back and forth in the air as the waves crashed to and fro. He spun, the water surging up behind him in a great tidal wave and staying in place.

"We do not yield." Brizyrr Vilvyl declared openly, his voice wise and old.

Flames licked the air openly like Hell was rising into the afternoon's blazing sun. A steel blade glistened brightly from the inferno surrounding the man, his red hair lit up in a vivid crimson not unlike the ground's variety of marbled design. His eyes were irises of red glaring at his opponents, clutching the blade in a fiery red metal gauntlet spiked for melee. The sand around his feet crystallized in glass and was spreading slowly, a mirror of himself below his feet. He moved his feet, cracking the mirror, the flame roaring like a lion after its prey. Firenze raised his blade.

"We are liberty." The flaming demon announced.

Wind howled, the source of the breeze in the dust bowl of the Crimson Sea. Air rippled in and out of black fabric clothes that twisted and twirled like leaves in the wind, a silvery longsword hidden deep within the dark cloak. His eyes were closed, concentration taking over, the wind his sight and hearing while it coursed itself around and around his opponents. The sand stormed at his feet, tiny twisters forming rapidly and diminishing at will. Platinum hair played across the forehead of Xerxes.

"We run while walking." The wind demon commented aloud.

Kerrain's hands tightened on the grip of Degel DeSaga, a black energy developing on the sword rapidly.

"We are Gundolath!"
"We are Gundolath!"
"We are Gundolath!"
"We are Gundolath!"
"We are Gundolath!"
"We are Gundolath!"

All six said it in rapid succession, a cheer ripping across the crowd like an arrow released freshly.

All six surged toward one another like ballistas firing simultaneously, all of them meeting into the middle of a sextet of explosions. Flames raged off in one corner as a cyclone spun in another. Darkness indoctrinated the air in its hold as pure light blinded a part of the crowd, and a giant water pillar rose into the air. The explosion of pure power died down as one was left standing, a smirk upon his face as a full set of glittering dark plate armor covered his body. Kerrain Guil'tee waved to the crowd, sheathing Degel DeSaga as his armor disappeared, leaving his original appearance unscathed. Rondel DeSaga, the armor of the wielder of Degel DeSaga. The crowd roared. Bet-takers groaned. Book-keeps demanded.

This was a Tuesday in the kingdom of Gundolath.

[Sigma]

Karael Swamplands
Varzi Central Hive

Deep within the Hive Superstructure of the Varzi Invaders, Emperor Saurizn sat upon his throne in the room, to his left was his mate and lover, Empress Selen'tia "Azleetor, before the two was a giant gelatinous floating orb, it begun to ripple and tremor as he spoke. "Swarm Masters." he said. "Report of your progress...."

An image appeared on the orb, that of Swarm Master Kratlos, the one leading the invasion of Azan. "We are within mere short distances of the capital of these lands. my armies will not fail my lord."

The orb rippled once more as an image of a pale-skinned masked creature appeared. "I have spilt my armies. I have left the overseers to attend to the invasion of the greenskins. I will lead the attack against the magic-users. and have sent assassins ahead to kill the leader of the magic-users"

The grinned devilishly, "Excellent...I will leave you to your own devices..." the orb began to shrink it's size to a mere pebble and vanishes. "Soon my love." the emperor said as he turned to the empress. "This world will be ours...."

--------------

Keraventrie Empire
Black City

Somewhere in the Central level of the Black City, a cloaked stranger walked amongst the masses, always avoid contact with the people and pushed through the crowds to get a glimpse of the Grand Spire. the stranger let out a small growl and dashed out from the area. the cloak collapsing onto the ground.

What appeared to be a Kera was actually an Varzi Infiltrator in disguise, attempting to assassinate the Emperor-Archon.

[Atrum Daemon]

Under normal circumstances, anyone attempting to reach the Grand Spire, or any other part of the royal section of the Black City, would have been stopped, searched for proper documents that allowed them entrance, and turned away if such documents were not found. If they persisted, the person or persons would have been killed on the spot. However, since the city was still in a state of repair, the guards had been called to different parts, allowing the assassin easy entrance to the royal section of the city.

The Grand Spire was guarded by a pair of hooded and cowled royal guardsmen. The assassin intercepted and killed a messenger headed for the spire and took his clothes. He effectively bluffed his way by the two guards and passed Veral and Kolgrim on his way up. The two men did not pay the disguised assassin any mind as they were deep in conversation.

The assassin stopped when he reached the top of the spire. Stefan had returned to his position sitting on the stone and looking out over the city. The Varzi stealthily approached the unsuspected Emperor-Archon and drove a hidden knife into the back of his neck. Rather than make a sound, the body congealed and melted into white wax. “Clever trick,” said a voice from behind the assassin, who was forced into his true form as he turned to face the voice's owner. “But it was very stupid to think I would not have prepared for potential assassins.”

Suddenly, Stefan was right in front of the Varzi and his hand was piercing the assassin’s chest. “I think I’ll have your body, what’s left of it at least, strung up in the center square to dissuade anymore of your kind from thinking they can kill me this easily.” Stefan stretched his arm over the edge of the Spire and let the body fall to splatter onto the ground below.

[Sigma]

Keraventrie Empire
Bordor

Over at the Keraventrie Empire's Bordor, on a tall hill, Swarm Master Azleetor, the one in command had a felt the gruesome death of one of his assassins. growling in anger. "Seems my assassin has failed...these creatures prove more capable.....no matter. I will simply crush their empire by my own hands...." he turned to face his vast army numbering around to five thousand.

"We shall shake the very foundations of all this world's nations!" he shouted out to his army. "None shall hide from our Empire's might!!" the army let out a terrifying shrieks as they cheered. "March! we go to war!!!!!!!!!!!!" complying to his words, the varzi crossed over the Empire's border and begin his Campaign of Terror.

[L]

Grimnock's Lab
Northern Quarter of Azan

The boy halfling messenger entering Grimnock's lab thought for a moment that the Varzi had already attacked, so great was the devastation in the room. Books lay scattered everywhere – on tables, chairs and floor. Pieces of lab equipment likewise was strewn about and a small fire burned unchecked in a corner of the room.

Then he saw Grimnock, and nearly threw up. Grimnock was not a pleasant sight – pasty grey, splotched skin and in places the boy could even see bits of bone where the skin was eaten away entirely. Bugs, large and small, scattered over the gnome – who took no notice of the insects. The Gnome Mage had jumped up on a desk, trying to reach for a book on a high point of a bookcase.

The Halfling was about to speak when something moved behind him. He didn't have a moment to react as a hand gripped around his throat and heaved him in to the air. When the messenger Did see his attacker, he did vomit.

He had heard rumors of the vile Morti – but very few had seen them. This one was a human – almost 5 years dead when Grimnock had resurrected him and it was a decayed monster, almost looking more decrepit than Grimnock himself.

He had incredible strength, however, and took no notice of the Halflings failing to get free.

'Ma... ster'

Grimnock spun from his perch, still trying to reach for the book, and growled. He jumped down from the table and made his way over to the Morti.

'Put him down'

The Morti dropped the Halfling unceremoniously. The small boy scrambled to the corner of the room, as far away from the monsters as possible.

'Mast... Master Grimnock... I... I have news... Caer Falco suggested I tell you'

'Falco eh?' Grimnock's interest perked at the mention of the head of The Family. 'What would Caer Falco think I would find interesting?'

Without his gaze leaving either the Morti or Grimnock, the Halfling rose to his feet, but stayed firmly pressed against the corner of the wall.

'The.. Varzi... Master. They have been attacking villages. I, I heard Burnin' Joe tell a Messenger for the Council and thought Caer Falco would want to know'

'VARZI! HA! Falco believing in fairy tales now? Maybe he's getting a little senile'

'No Master... he doesn't. He just thought maybe you'd like to... investigate maybe... in case they could help you'

'Help me... what?'

'Help... uh... I'm not sure....' The Halfling was clearly terrified. Grimnock inched closer to the boy.

'Help... me... what?'

'LIVE!... Live, Master Grimnock. Maybe the Varzi have something you could use'

Snarling, the Gnome Necromancer threw a book at he boy's head and the Halfling instantly relieved himself all over the floor in fright. The Gnome motioned to the Morti.

'Toss him out'

As the Morti moved to obey his master, Grimnock crawled back on to the table to retrieve the book he was after, muttering to himself as he did so.

'Varzi... Varzi... Maybe they help... Maybe I can use them... Maybe they Are real'

[Sigma]

Azan

"The time has come my brethren.." Kratlos begun, turning to facing his army. "The time has come to display our power to these pathetic creatures. I have conquered many worlds in our Emperor's name, and this world will be no different.." he paused for a moment, and begun pacing back and forth, his eyes not losing focus of the varzi army. "We have ravaged this kingdom, and destroy many of it's villages. This City will hopefully be my greatest challenge of yet." he then turned to face the city, "Now my brethren!" he cried out the sky, raising his sword up high, then aiming it towards the city. "Go forth and leave nothing but ash!" the army charged forward, while kratlos remained still as the horde streamed past him.

Varzi Wasps took to the skies in flocks as they advanced, at the front of the army were broods of warriors, choppers, slayers and berserkers. behind the smaller varzi were the Garhulks, they shambled on their tentacles, followed by siege engines of twisted varzi design and war beasts, such as catapults with carapace-like hides, a large serpentine beast which stuck out like a sore thumb among the insectoid horde, along side the beast was a massive slug covered in flat white armored plates, acting as a sort of battling ram.

As he watched his horde about to besiege the capital of Azan, he let out a loud demonic laugh. "The slaughter now begins...." he said as he walked torwards the city.

[L]

Southern Walls,
Azan

The two pikemen standing guard on the southern wall of Azan were bored. Midnight shift was always the hardest, and more boring, shift of all and the two men – 2 of the only humans in the entire Azan military – sat lazily, playing a game of Azan style poker.

Neither men let out so much as a sound as the Varzi wasps dropped on top of them, killing them in seconds.


Southern Gate,
Azan

Alexander Kelt, one of the top competitors in the Reork Stadium games, stumbled along the gate with 2 other gladiator fighters. The 3 had been drinking heavily for hours after Alexander had killed a human in one-on-one combat. The fight had been quick – much to the crowds displeasure. To give them a bit of a show, Alexander had cut the human's head off and flung it in to the crowd.

Alexander was popular, and good.

Now, however, late night and drunk, he barely registered the screams now coming from the walls above. He heard a couple of rings of steel and few high hissing sounds, but very few compared to the screams of the wall's defenders. His first instinct was to look through the gates, and what he saw sobered him instantly.

Reaching for his sword, the Orc smacked one of his drunk friends on the back.

'Go to the Council and warn them – wake up everyone on the way – we're going to war!'




Grimnock's Lab,
Northern Azan


Grimnock had barely set off from his quarters, sneaking out in the dead of night to not alert anyone. His plan was to track down the hopefully real Varzi. He didn't know how dangerous they were, so he brought along a large number of his Morti along – for protection.

Grimnock heard screams and the clash of steel before he saw the fires breaking out.

The Gnome Necromancer didn't hesitate, breaking in to a run towards the sound of battle, his Morti in tow behind him.

[Sigma]

Varzi begun scaling up the city's walls in droves. pouring from the walls down to the city, they were met with resistance and instantly clashed with the defending troops, the battle was fierce all around, and no mater how many varzi fell, more kept coming and easily replaced the fallen ones.

Varzi Wasps filled the skies and begun swooping downward, killing anyone in sight. the situation was starting to get worse at the southern gate as the large slug beast rammed it's head repeatedly at the gate behind it were many more varzi awaiting to burst through and unleash more death. the large serpent beast roared towards the city, causing further fear and panic among the populace. it was a nightmare made manifest.

Kratlos soon arrived at the southern gate, approaching the front as his varzi cleared the way for him, standing next to the slug creature as it continued to ram it's head against the gate, waiting as he would lead the charge.

---------------

Orgrimmar Bordor

While the invasions of Azan and the Keraventrie Empire commence. a third Varzi army led by several Overseers, marched across the bordor of the orc-ruled Orgrimmar. these behemoths towarded all the of the varzi army, their shadows casting upon them as the three overseers wre at the head of the horde.

As they crossed over, the three looked to one another, "This when we part, brothers" One said via telepathy. all nodded as they spilt and break up their horde into smaller armies, attacking this land on multiple fronts.

[Higurashi]

Tyrmaak sat upon his old, comfortable throne. Before him were the three that had competed to take his place, and lost. Rashta the Brave, kneeled before him, in proper court manner, head bowed. Yritaca the Bull, stood tall and proud, apparently unfazed by his loss. Kilsi the Axe, however was the only one who dared stand and look at Tyrmaak straight to his face. Tyrmaak was vaguey surprised by this. He would have expected all three to be sorrowful. It appeared however, that all three thought that the results were right and proper. Finally, after a full five minutes of probably stressful silence, Tyrmaak said, "Well then young challengers, you must know that I have spared your life for a reason." At this all the other two looked up in surprise. "I have found that it would be a waist to kill you after you have survived. But do not think this uneccesary mercy will go unpunished. I will have to find a suitable quest for all three of you to go on, together." Rashta and Yritaca's mouths both dropped then, but Kilsi's stayed firm. As the fates would have it, a quest appeared at that moment. An old crone of an ork srumbled in, and promptly fell to the floor. All she was able to say before she died was "Sire *cough* the Varzi.... they come." Tyrmaak watched as the body was picked up and carried out. he got up from his throne and took up his battle axe. He looked to his gathered warriors and the trio of competitors and shouted, "To the battlements my warriors! Today, we dine on the blood of our enemies!"

[Atrum Daemon]

KERAVENTRIE EMPIRE
OUTLAYING BORDER

Iskander and his black dragon Alliyah flew in circles above the advancing horde. If he had a full squad of his dragon riders with him, Iskander would have considered swooping down upon the invaders and halting their advance. Instead, he figured the best thing to do was to report it to Stefan as soon as he could.

KERAVENTRIE EMPIRE
GRAND SPIRE TOP

Stefan looked up as the black dragon flew overhead, a lance embedding itself in the tower stone with a message tied to it. Stefan untied the note and read it, his expression darkening the more he read. There was nothing to be done about the outlying provinces as sending a military force to aid them would simply waste time and resources needed to prepare the Black City for the attack. “Find Zusha!” Stefan shouted up to Iskander. “I need to speak with him about this!”

***

“Are you certain?” Zusha asked, looking out at the city with Stefan.

“Of course. It is the only way to ensure we outlast this new enemy. Our forces are still recovering from the crippling losses caused by the rebellion.”

“You have a point there,” Zusha nodded. “I shall inform the other archons to prepare.”

[L]

Southern Gate,
Azan:

Chaos surrounded Alexander Kelt who, sword in hand, stood calm against the storm. He watched the massive, ugly slug approach the gate and begin to slam its head against the gate. But it was the massive, armored, thing that strode up behind him that caught Alex's attention. Alex heard commotion behind him – running, steel being drawn, shouted orders – but through it all his eyes never left the hooded monster on the other side of the Southern Gate to Azan.

The massive Orc registered the unmistakable "twang" of bows being shot and a moment later felt the breeze of arrows flying past his head and through the gate towards the attackers – one unlucky arrow bounced harmlessly off the leader of the enemy group and landed in the dirt at his feet. Alex spun and growled, his fangs glistened and the fires lit around gave him a demonesque appearance. 'Stop firing fools, save your ammo – and for blood's sake light them up. Fire on my mark!' he said.

Alex's heart sank, though, as he looked back past the first line of defense in to the city. Flying creatures were swarming all about and screams were starting to rise from all parts of the city. He hoped the rest of the city would be fine, but he turned back to the Gate and steeled himself to defending it as the slug, with one final smash of its head, cracked through the gate.


-

Central Azan

The first of the gigantic wasp like creatures that dropped in front of Grimnock startled him, but he knew without a doubt what they were. Varzi. More and more of the wasps hovered around and a few broke off to attack 2 startled gnomes who had just exited a house. Grimnock however, wasted no time, ordering his Morti to attack.

The fight was quick and savage and by the end nearly a dozen Morti lay motionless of the ground amongst the Azan houses, though equal numbers of the large wasps lay on the ground as well. Only 2 of his original unit of the undead stood, one limbing on his right leg. Grimnock was unconcerned. He knelt down by one of the wasps and studied it closely. The large yellow head, over-sized stingers that may or may not have housed poison.

When he began to hear more of the persistent, loud buzzing that could only signal more of the attackers, Grimnock decided to cut his losses. He summoned his good Morti to pick up one of the dead wasps and began to head back to his Lab, half happy his hunt for the Varzi was surprisingly successful, half in the complete knowledge that he could very well die tonight.

[Sigma]

As the gate collapsed with pieces of metal and wood falling upon Kratlos, he remained as he was, not moving a muscle or faltering, he just stood and waited until the other side was in sight, with a few muffled crackles, he raised his sword and thrust it outward to the exposed gate and the city. signaling the rest of the horde to commence the attack, they complied as droves of varzi charge pass him as they spread throughout the city.

In a few moments, he leaped up over the horde and landed on the city walls. startling a few archers, they froze as what they saw was almost entirely alien, a man or beast not from this world. in those breif moments, kratlos swung his sword, slashing each of their necks, blood splattering on the varzi swarm master. he pushed the bodies over the walls outside where his troops would instant devour the corpses. as he was about to leap once more into the city, he had noticed an Orc Warrior to his right. the massive warrior appeared more of a challenge to him then most of these pathetic creatures protecting the city.