[GSM]

The Demon King had come before for the Black Rose Island, now dubbed the Blood Rose Island.
The once-fully Aphrosian isle had been one of the few lands that Na'Ria had been hungering for all this time.
Yet, now that it had made landfall, now that it had launched an assault against it to declare its war just,
it was only a matter of time before Na'Ria's threat would be made manifest.

The Shadowlands has fortifications erected around the southern borders, by the shorelines, as an en masse preparation is made for this assault.
Ships, borne of briarwood and made with meticulous care, are prepared for the war upon the horizon.
Now that the Blood Rose Island is more or less divorced from the title of an Aphrosian settlement, and is now wholly distinct,
it was only a matter of time before the reaper's bells would toll, its gaze firmly settled upon the land.

What did it all mean?

Nothing good, if even an Imperfect would raise their Kaorblade against such a land.

The seas near the Blood Rose begin to dim and darken, as does the ground of the Shadowlands.
Something terrible was brewing.

Before long, there is a presence of great power; with a concentration of ether emanating from deep within Skarnfel's territory, those of the Blood Rose would be subjected to the Grey pulse of the Ascendant's calm, feminine voice.
Even in one's dreams would they not be safe from the Demon King's ire.

"Hear me, sons of man.

For your hunting of mine kin, and for the striking of mine disciples,

atop the blatant disrespect you have shown me with such a generous offer,

I will be taking what you are undeserving of.

You are not worthy of the land you have been granted, as it is rightfully mine.

If you stand against us, you will reap what you have sown. If you are wise, you will stand down and surrender against our full might.

If you are not, then you will feel Storyteller's kiss as you are made one with me.

And you, Baron.

I will make full on mine promise, do not worry."

With thus being stated would the Demon King decree a full-scale assault, lesser demons of all shapes and sizes now barraging through bloated carrier ships to spill unto the shores.

The seas would turn violet and scarlet before long; the ground of dirt would resemble mud, and all magical wards preventing such an invasion would be erupted by the Archon itself.

Conquest was in their sights.

This was just one stage; a stepping stone.

Skarnfel would continue to increase its presence. There was no alternative.

It was expansion and further strength, or it was death.

Objective:

Seize control of the Blood Rose Island.

Date: Friday - 9/8 - 6PM EST

[Daeut]

Long had the presence of Skarnfel burgeoned in the purple-laden lands once belonging to no one. Fresh in the memory of a few Aphrosians remained the days of when it was a barren plot in its backyard. Now, bisected by a river, does the Twilight City stand between the demonic hub and the rest of Meranthe, like the Citadel Upon The Edge stands between Helheim and the mortal coil.

Yet amidst this seemingly perpetual deadlock of antipodal forces, the Twilight City found its own means to grow. The dormant backwater colony of Black Rose found new beginnings as a refuge and sanctuary for those tragically lost in the engineered destruction of Nyt'hjem. Appointed Baron by the Oracle of Athelios, Sinclair transformed the island into a promissory vassal state under the new name of Blood Rose.

Bound to the Balance of Aschea, it was nonetheless property of Aphros.

The forces of Helheim mobilize once more to take the Warden's rightful stage.

Where they gained the notion it was no longer the case was as much a mystery as it was a mistake. A mistake the Twilight City's navy would soon embark to make clear to those audacious enough to commit it. Just as the Demon King subjected the denizens of Blood Rose to its epicene voice, so too did another voice echo in the minds of the invading bulk with the harrowing polyphony of static and sandpaper--raking with the beckoning of the Warden's Many.

◑ 

Hearken me well, abominations.

I have witnessed you all since you first arrived [you first broke free] on our continent to spread your filth like a canker. It never ceases to amaze me [to surprise me] how you can claim any victimhood, as though you have any right to life [to live]. As though you have any existence so to purchase on our plane. You cry and bemoan [they all reckoned the Heavens with a virtue they never had] as you strike at the righteous and terrorize the innocent.

It is pathetic.

You will earn nothing, because you deserve nothing.

What beats in my [in our] voice and heart is not my rancor. What [beats] in our collective is the hatred [the rage, the rage] against the sniveling dung that you are. They all wail for justice.

Your kind is the mental and spiritual excrement [the shit] of the rot in our minds and hearts, anthropomorphized and given form like a parody of our condition. A concentration of our worst with more power than you ought to have. You are maggots [itty bitty- itty bitty worms] that somehow feel entitled to the beauty or fruit of our world.

You are a foetid [so so wretched] walking stench that cries and begs for our sympathy when those of us with noses have the sense to turn away.

How kind [especially lovely] that you brought yourselves to the water. You at least recognize your need to be cleansed.

◑ 

◑ 

As the Warden's Hand of Destruction, we will kill every last one of you.
Or we will die trying.

Objective:

Defend the rightful domain of Aphros.

[Metrice]

_________________________≼≽_________________________

Fortune caught wind of the conflict to come, both from missives, and from personal accounts. This was not a time for the isles to lay dormant, to wait amongst themselves in the throes of Fel Activity. The Driftwood Battalion was lain to preparation, Seamen and Ensign’s alike began heavy training. Sailors ready to risk their lives in defense of Blood-Rose. The isle not only holding Mercantile accord of its own right, but that of Aphrosian trade was at risk.

 

With Fel activities blocking their routes into the City of Twilight. The Gilded Nation held pride within the safety of the Southern Seas. Global trade being a major boon for their people, one of their staples. To think they’d be forced to share waters with something so abhorrent, this would not, could not be permitted.

 

So, by the Sovereign’s decree:

 

Fortune sails to war.

 

______________________≼≽______________________

 

 

“My good people, the mighty soul of Fortune is at risk on this day. These beasts come amongst our waters they threaten our Accords. Aphrosian people have been good to us, safeguarded our people when none would come to our aid. I will not allow for this malignant presence to take root, to spread its filth within our oceans. They seek to devour or Freedoms, our Liberty.  Let us teach these damnable cretons what these Freedoms have afforded us.

 

These precious seas, these sapphire blue pools so precious to our people. We shan’t risk them, not for the whimsy of some entitled upstart: this Na’ria will come to know these waters, belong to the Gilded Nation.”

⤄

⁜Objectives⁜

Safeguard Blood-Rose’s shores, stopping the Fel advance before they find landing.

⩿⩔⪀

[Coroneljones]

---

The Demon King´s first assault was a surprise for the contracted defenders of Blood Rose.
They would not fall for it once again.

As the tides of war were visible on the horizon, the sworn defenders in service to the Baron could only begin their preparations for the coming invasion, with new blades being sharpened, magi-tech cartridges stocked for use and boats prepared to evacuate the civilian residents.
Missives were sent in coordination with the Baron of the island, and soon after, orders spread out amongst The Order.
War loomed on the horizon and one thing was clear.

The Goldlight Order would stand by its vows to defend the island and its people.

As the Sword and the Shield

Objective: Protect Blood Rose Island and its inhabitants

[Heimdalic_Dreams]

Broken.

Defeated.

Maimed.

Attacked within his own home by the scourge itself, whose blade of stories wove through his ribs and punctured his innards as any tale of woe. 

Despite the rushing medical magi around him, the scattered paperwork of all he had poured his life's work into completing, the Baron of Blood Rose stood firm upon his desk, lips pressed tight, writing to all whom his pen could reach - When that failed, missives on the tongues of man worked just as well. The words he had offered everyone throughout his youth were now bearing fruit, as it had become time to come together against the dark forces; antagonistic and hostile instruments of phobias made manifest, whom believe a weak and lonely island was for anyone with enough Power to grab, if but they hold any want for it. How often had these foul fel creatures imposed their bloody wants and wills onto those weaker than themselves, communities still budding in their attempts on founding their own little worlds, each left bare and broken beneath the heaving chests of Demons and Monsters.

No more. 

Skarnfel had heard the warnings - Had scoffed at the very notion of the good people collecting arms as one against them. Dawnstone - Aphros - Fortune - The Enclave - Delphina - The Frontier. Letter after letter would writhe through the air on the fuzzy backs of exceptionally tiny bats, even as orders temporary evacuation of the non-Magi refugees to Aphros would be passed along. 

No more hurt - No more sorrow for those who had already lost so much. Even if he had to bleed himself bare - He would stand on an injured frame to defend the legacy of the Batkin. 

Objective: Defend his People, and strike a true injury upon the forces of Evil - Gather together the forces of light, to oppose the dark. 

[Detective100]

"Clean the rifles, man the troops, and prioritize the gathering of rations for the journey for the trip eastward and back.
If one of our allies is under threat of attack from the forces of the fell, then we shall answer."

---

With word of the coming conflict reaching the streets of Audhild, the preperation was silent but swift. For this battle, two clear objectives were raised:

• Assist Aphros, an ally of Audhild.
  
• Prevent Skarnfel access to free passage through the Southern Seas.
  

While Audhild's military has dwindled over the years, among them are still capable riflemen who can now be seen training by the beach practicing their aim, old uniforms who have been untouched for years are pulled back up from the storages to be cleaned and distributed for the coming battle, to provide a sense of comradery among one another.

While the city of Audhild may not be known for its military capabilities? One truth seldom breaks.
When it comes to assisting against the forces of the fell? The city's people are ever ready.

---

"Aphros has come to our fellow allies and our people's aids. It is only fair to return the favor."

[GSM]

The advent of the Blood Tide came with the heralding of war's trumpets, and the battle within both the shoreline of the Shadowlands and the Blood Rose Island itself was brutal.
Yet, it was the words of the Demon King that rang out, crashing like tidal waves against the island and its defenders.
The Lord of Knowledge was bringing about an era of Change.



The might of the armies of man were not to be underestimated.
The Aphrosian military were formidable, loyal, and powerful, led by the Oracle herself.
Fortune's mastery of the tides led them to navigate the battlefield with an untold advantage.
The Goldlight Order stood in solid defiance of the rage of the fel forces, prepared for whatever may come.
The Blood Rose Island stood against them, its inhabitants entrenched in the isolated landmass.
Audhild's peerless technology and trained accuracy led to a ranged skirmish that few were prepared for.

But none stood to the true strength of the Demon King but the Lord of Time, its true equal.

The Blood Rose was filled with lesser demons who tore foes apart, the relocated batkin once again driven out of their home under threat of death.
Witches convened, fel warriors singing the praises of the Ascendant as they ripped apart lessers.
The Blood Tide was named such for the sheer severity of the attack.
All the while, those of lesser control were subjugated by Na'Ria itself, stolen away by the Demon King's throes.

At the end of the battle, the Demon King gave a sermon, aimed to the beloved and blessed of its make.
As if a living Angel of Hel, it praised the acts given; the Imperfect had taken further strides to truly change the world to its own image.
For the Apostles of Change would bring about a rapturous devotion to the change of all.
For Skarnfel had claimed victory.

A crushing, absolute victory.
Now, not even the seas were safe from the fel.

Pandemonium regnat Na'Riai vitae.

All hail mine.