Battle of One Eyed's Word: PRELUDE TO RAGNAROK

[Epoch]

An olden prophecy is spread throughout the lands by a silver-haired childseer. It had made its first appearance many years ago upon a volcano, where an old wizard took a sword to the heart. Though many moons passed and nobody thought anything of it except for one. Everyday it appeared more likely. And through sheer will, conquest and the blessing of lady luck, it came to be true. The dying prophecy of Hofgothi Shaggard DeGray.

"An age of darkness was predicted. One where monsters many, heroes few. When all is lost, six companions of disparate births and shared intentions will take on a fiendish battlefield. In the salvation of Meranthe, the empire lost, found again."

---

The Crimson Blood Moon wrought from the Town of Croi's destruction was over a year ago now, no longer on mind. Instead, the days are blue and the nights once more clear. Though the prelude of battle was anything but peaceful. Not when the army of Deephold begins to force back the Dauntless and push onto Mount Grimhjall proper.

The War Horn of Grimnir howls across the lands, prompting the reply of others. The ground visibly shakes as warriors march under a single banner. Odd shadows and lights bathe them with mystical properties and the clouds morph, resembling warriors of old in battle.

From Grimhjall the siege is met head-on. From Aphros comes march upon Shadowlands. From Dal'thala, soldiers rally through western forests. From the Fortune Isles, south, warfare via the sea.

And those of Nyt'hjem and other wayward souls...?

The Lands of Meranthe united and with it, an-all out assault upon the Deep's Armies. Though, it came at a risk, for Vdalion to expend resources to conquer Aphros when Grimhjall was sieged was no small price.

"The skies will turn, and revolt. The ground will quake, and the rivers will stop weeping, the blood of Ymir will dry, and the statue of his glories will crumble.

Ground to dust, will the armies of the Darkness and the forces of the Six stomp. A red sea of Sinka will sprout in new, offered blood, and the Tower of Aetius will be seen at its tallest.

Through a flag of unity, a heart of purpose, and a spirit of hope will be the trended flames that cease the advance of Darkness.

A blank page, with parchment of Gala's Veil, and mankind's souls as feathered pen, will Meranthe's future be revealed.

Doom or Restoration lay in wait."

---

Special Battle
OOC Notes:

-- Naturally Dangerous Capture 2+ Setting. Capture 3+ Deadly Setting for 'Featured' battles (No intervenes on featured battles).

-- Both sides can invest more than 60k coin for development items, instead up to 100k, so a maximum of 5 items per side.

-- The results of this event will result in major changes. This is a massive, climatic showdown between the forces of Meranthe.

Time: SATURDAY 13TH 7PM EST.

[Didos]

 

For long years Meranthe remained the same, a land left aside by outside forces - dealing only with inner conflicts between the most influential powers..

 
Until the changing of times began.

 

This had start with the arrival of the demonic hordes, which would corrupt the fauna and flora of Mount Pavonis, despairing humanity and making them unite temporarily to stop the advances of the demons! And as successful as that was, it didn't truly stop Helheim's forces.

 

No, it could not stop it there.

 

On the contrary, it would only unify them even more and force these entities to change, adapt.. and evolve. Ascensions occurred, the Imperfects were born and the legions of monsters followed in their wake.. Which then began to further drive the world around them up against a wall.

 

Until this one fought back, because in the face of changes.. They changed, adapted and evolved as well! An empire would arise from the ashs of war.. Unifying the land against one threat.

 

One who sought to bring its end.

 

The first wave would force the walls to fall and the giants to retreat into their mountain.

 

And now.. The second wave would force the world into darkness.. As the changes sought to bring a Volcanic Winter to these lands, if they were to fail.

 

"The moment of truth has arrived, in which your Empire will fall mortals - nothing will stand before the marching of our Horde.. Not until this world changes as we did.

  

Succumb, Emperor of Meranthe, for this is a war your people cannot and will not win."

 

The armies would march once more.

 

The ground would shake and the world should change. From the shadowlands to the mountains, the demons began to spread - undead joined in conjuction with these beings! And under the will of their Lords, these creatures shall bring about a new era.

   

Calamity was here and it was time for the final battle.
  

[RainIsABirb]

---

The rallying banner of Duality, dark and light, stretches high upon the western front of shadow'd plain.

The freshly-anointed commander, exhales smoke, shakes off the nerves she'd acquired in the moments before.
Wings of glorious flame reach up from behind her back, a column of smoke rising to blacken the sky,
before raising her voice before the Bastion of Aphros, and making her statements, her righteous cry.

---

"Death. Dismemberment. Damnation!
Those are the beasts we stare in the eye as we march, my children.
For every blow they deal to us, every soul they attempt to drag down-

Strike! Strike back twice, and save those who are lost. Make oneself
as demon- maim, rip and tear to your heart's content, and slay those
who seek to plunge the world into the fog they themselves are trapped in!

You will Fear! But do not tremble for what comes next. Fear for those you
leave behind, fear for those who are at risk of your own failure. Temper that
quiver in the depths of your very soul into a sonorous chorus of DEFIANCE!"

---

... And her fires scream and rage, for all the hate that warmth embodied.

And so the Bastion takes up its arms and roars; to finally pay back twice for every sin they'd endured!

[Metrice]

_________________________≼≽_________________________

Ships gather at the Sapphire Bay. Having been well prepared, armed with fresh munitions, rations, and crew. Steadfast to face the seas, but more importantly face the common foe the whole of Meranthe had come to unite against. All in order to see it obliterated. It was not a savory task, one that the mercantile nation had avoided for some time. But no longer, it was time to act, time to quell this threat once and for all.

⤄

The Driftwood Battalion would ready their new recruits, polishing blades, stocking on gunpowder, on ammunition. The training would have to wait, there wasn’t time the new-bloods being tested in the heat of battle. Whatever outcomes would befall them was theirs to earn, or theirs to lose.

⤄

And so, the whole of Fortune’s fleet would be sent away, sent to War.

______________________≼≽______________________

“The time has finally come, the time to set this world right. Tis a shame that it took so much for the whole of Meranthe to come together despite this blight festering amongst us; but no longer. Now all have their part to play, and Fortune will most certainly be playing a grandiose piece. These seas, these brilliant pools we’ve claimed as our own?

They’ll be the key to our victory.”

[Spiffspoff]

Purple banners raise in the distance, though few in number they are. Soldier of Aen, still loyal to the cause sounds the drum of war, as promised. At the helm, a one-eyed, wild-looking woman brandishing a gnarled, and thorny blade. Rifles are brandished. Cannons are rolled out. Those that still sought to fight to avenge all that they had lost since coming to Meranthe. But there's no holler for victory to be found amongst these weathered troops. No joy, or sadness, or despair.

Only rage.

The remnants of the royal navy blazes bright.
Be the night's end death, or glory.

[Oicha]

Days, for days the Moon Chosen sat in front of the statue of her departed. Denying all attempts to feed her, growing gaunt and sickly. For days, her eyes remained closed, and she gave no orders. No commands or thoughts to her people.

But she has opened her eyes once more. The pale moonlight infused with her eyes giving a sense of serenity to her words. Filled with purpose and vitriol.

"My hunters, this is an Omen. The solar eclipse is upon us soon, the day that the moon will block out the light of the sun.

Camazots has spoken to me once more, and shown me the absolute path we will take. That we must take.

War, war comes to our people once more. And there will be. No. Mercy."

The words of the Moon Seer, the Moon Chosen, are clear. The sky will bleed over this battle.
No matter who wins.
Let us Hunt.

[ACuriousGrey]

As the Commander gave her speech to the troops of Duality, another woman could be seen by her side. One familiar to many, with features not so familiar.

A Nephilim adorned with twin pairs of wings contrasting in nature. One of inky, cosmic blackness, and one of brilliant silver and sparkling color.

The Commander was filled with passion and rage, while this woman was much different- sitting before them and watching on in somber silence.

Balance, in all things.

"Are you watching, Master? I pray that you're smiling down at me.
Bearing four wings, just like you. Following a Divine Purpose, just like you.
Alongside the ones we held dear. Alongside the ones we used to lead. Alongside the ones that abandoned you.

And yet- we're all united for one reason. Aren't we? Isn't this why we fought? To give them purpose?
I am the Hunting Dog for one last time before my chains are truly freed. And in your stead, I will lead them to victory."

---

With the cries of their soldiers as her backdrop, wings were spread in line with ones of glorious flame.

Ragnarok had come.

[Shelpies]

"A deal is a deal and we shall see it through."

"The Sabbath has prepared us for this."
"Meranthe will find itself in the quagmire of its nadir."

"Good against Evil."
"Order against Chaos."

"Life against Death."

"Echo with the sound of Gjallarhorn and call upon Ragnarok as you'd like,"
"But know that the bell tolls for thee."

The countless kingdoms and forces of Meranthe band together in their final stand against the forces of Deep Hold, depicting a climactic stand-off that painters would paint for generations on end, a battle that bards and muses will sing of for decades and, perhaps, even centuries. In face of this, smaller covens are invited by the Grand Guignol to participate in the momentous battle just as well. Spearheaded by the Son of Misfortune, Lyseroth, a rather small but by no means inexperienced group of cultists march to assist the demonic horde in their push to bring about the volcanic winter.

There are hushed whispers that indicate that this will undoubtedly be the last moment of unity between the forces of evil as the Grand Guignol cast their gazes upwards the Tower of Aetius, no doubt focused more on the grand undertaking of delving into the secrets within.

[Truwarrior119]

Arriving in the final hours, in the eve of battle did the Bloodsingers of Clan Silvanas make their appearance. Using a little travelled route along the North of the mountain, it was a dangerous trek but they managed to sneak in and arrive. A small band, if but a number one could count on a hand, had been brought by Chief Galland Silvanas leading volunteers of his Clan, and a few of Audhild into Grimhjall for the battle to come. Deep Hold could not gain ground. Not now, not ever.

The great battle to come...

Ragnarok.

"I come to aid Vdalion in this fight, the battle to turn the tide of this war once and for all! I ask those with me, of my Clan and people I protect? Will you join me?

May Mestra fill our hearts with the joy of their song!

May they bless our blades to be the painters upon the field!

Will you spill the blood of Deep Hold this day?

To crush them all like Vermin, once and for all?!"

[Chance]

The Empire of Meranthe, gathered under a single banner for the first since the ancient times, meet toe to toe with Deep Hold and its demonic forces. Each of them going against one another with flames and blood engulfing the ground and the pungent iron stench reaching into the heavens as the mighty battle of The Emperor and Helheim's Challenge. With each magi meeting the ground and getting back up with the cheer of hundreds if not thousands of non magi knights dawning the blackened banners on their backs, it seemed as though this battle would go on forever.

However, all things, even good, had to come to an end. And with the forces of the Deep Hold being able to seize the Grimhjall, it was obvious that what was coming next was prophesized. The eclipse, where the moon blocks the sun and casts down against the wholeness of Meranthe shines. The active volcano that threatened the end, finally erupted, with greater gravitas unlike ever known before.

It was the end of the world as they knew it.

Lava spilled from the volcano, sounding the first trumpet of Armageddon. The stalwart, indomitable fortress of Vdalion has been swallowed whole in flames, volcanic snowfall falling from on high in a final requiem for the empire's capital. The eruption continued, blanketing the whole of Vdalion and leaving naught but a wasteland in its wake. Horrified screams and the death throes of those caught within the lava flow left simply a picture of Helheim on earth, with the mortified yells of the dying million serving as the orchestra to the devastation.

With the eruption of the volcano came the end of an era just as well, the Gjallarhorn sounded the zenith of Ragnarok anew as pinions of jet-black feathers ignited into a conflagration. The death of Sak'noth, the Lord of Change, under the hands of Orphee Dawnbringer; with this victory did he bring forth dawn, as his name had proudly dictated such.

Jokul, the Emperor of Meranthe, revealed the extent of his strength: for death shall not claim him, not now, not even. He who conquered all, now conquered death just as well. Varrach, the Death Incarnate, has fallen. In the aftermath of the battle, the True Giant's lifeforce seemed strained from bearing so many artifacts of Amier, permanently when touching upon true godhood.

Though the volcanic snowfall was enacted as a whole, it came at a large cost for the forces of demonic horde. The deaths of the Imperfect Demons, the dichotomy that stood at the zenith, now left behind a void to be filled.

In the aftermath of the volcanic eruption, Sutyr's Summit and Grimjall, as well as much of Vdalion, is destroyed during the events of the so called Ragnarok. The northern region is covered in ash rain for miles on end and is currently not safe, with the cloud of smog reaching across the sky and blotting out sunlight across Meranthe.

...A pyrrhic Deephold victory... 
At the cost of not one, but two Demon Lords...
And, what of Emperor Jokul, in reaching for godhood: is he still of the flesh?