Quote:"My My My... Did you find it funny when you took my people? Flaunting them like a prize? Did you enjoy that little breath of air, of that gentle victory that you have shapened upon this land oh but how you helscape creatures. You lost misguided souls have started to really put a damper on my mood. There are some sins I cannot forgive."

"You dare to touch the very soil of Aphros. My people. My children of Athelios..."

"I will have your head for it."

OBJECTIVE: Securing a Foothold for a future assault on the Tower.

WHEN:

 

Quote:"Your mortals.. Try so hard to get my attention, you speak in a manner as if you any of you hold any really menace to our existence, that you could be anything other than.. Parasites in this world.
 
Your people? Nothing but cattle. Your lands? Nothing but something forgotten, collecting dust like your own pathetic life - if you really dare to march into our lands..
 
You will have all of my attention, little mana node.. Oh, how perfect will be, once you are harvested.
 
My horde.. Awaits.. My horde..

HUNGERS!"
 

This is a terrible night.

The echoes reverbate across Meranthe akin to a hushed whisper- for the essence of Death was briefly put to action, fed upon a mighty warrior, and shown but a small extent of its terrible power. A sleepless night, filled with nightmares- a dark omen for for the denizens of Meranthe.

Something is horribly wrong.

Quote:"You march under the banners of hope, light and all that you deem good."

"You march unto your death."

"For I will honor my word to him. I will honor our promise."

The Great Wolf prepares a dark, ominous, terrible power that shall greet all that will come to the battle.

Only gods could know what kind of an unholy curse it will unleash.

For the first time in decades,
Hoisted high are banners belonging to the Kingdom of Delphina.
United again,
Legions marched southward towards that place of depravity with a single goal in mind.

Following a meeting with the Oracle of Aphros, the Aenite isle of Lyonesse stirs.

Orders trickle down along the chain of command until even the most civilian of
Aenites on the isle has been energized. It bustles feverishly as it prepares itself
in every which way for the eve of war which will soon come to Abendrot. Cooks
prepare what may be the final meals of brave sailors. Blacksmiths ensure that
all who may partake are armed. Alchemists distribute elixirs and attunements
alike. While no declaration is made, no letter distributed, no public speech shared,

it is starkly clear that Aen has joined the war efforts.

"K'thul, you're not allowed to die until I will it."