An Overdue Return [Fel vs Ten's Citadel]

[FireStartingSnake]

The world changes often, drastic events shake up the landscape, and outcomes are forged by the whims of others. 

But within the shadows do creatures speak and observe, watching every moment, waiting for a crucial opportunity.


Promises made, opportunities proposed. Through coin, word and deals did something grow.

 A mass within the dark, convinced, promised and with goals in mind. The being of shadow spoke.

“My promise years ago shall be fulfilled. I warned of my return, and how I will reap the flesh and spirits of their forms until they fall under my presence. But so long had I known the truth, yet unable to act upon it.”

“They held this secret for a decade, barricaded behind the Aegis they promoted themselves as. Such ‘valiant’ defenders to hide the truth, but that Aegis has shattered! The Exarch and Chancellor slain, the commander and warriors fallen! They are a husk of their former selves, and the opportunity to retrieve what is mine is most glaring!”

“The blade of my patriarch shall be returned.”

Word spread throughout the land, the kaorblade of Eranath was to be reclaimed by its spawn, Vana’Rath! 

With the assistance of others through talk and negotiations.

Fel Forces!

VS.

Ten’s Citadel

Date: TBD

Objective: Retrieve the Kaorblade of Eranath.

[Kiseki]

( Art by Skaya3000 )


...And already were several soldiers preparing.
Despite their lowered quantities,
they continued, ever onwards,
with confidence in their stride.

---

"This does not come as a surprise. Your ilk like to lurk in the shadows, opportune hunters by necessity, such is what Meranthe has forced you into.
Alas, you make the wrong choice; it is true, that the Aegis is weakened, but it is not alone.
This is a ceaseless duty, an endless war, one we will continue to wage against demonkind, until our very last breaths.
Brace yourself. We stand united, now more than ever, and that will be your downfall."

---

Several envoys had been sent out,
including the Ambassador herself,
to seek aid from the Aegis's allies.

Objective
Repel the assaulting forces.

[LadyRegent]

 

"Years have I waited to fill the promise I made to the Citadel, you bring me great fortune. Demon blood to spill in the north, I could ask for nothing else to bring us together. You are to be but a precursor for what's to come." 

 

 

 

Objective:

Remove the Demons from the North

[Coroneljones]

---

With word spread of the assault upon The Citadel, in the southern coast the Castle-City of Martyrs´ Vigil has its guard mobilize, to the one place The Goldlight Order has not visited or maintained extended contact with, in nearly decades.

The Ten´s Citadel, of The Aegis.

Winter cloaks are distributed and provisions are prepared for the march north, for the first time in years, as The Vigil sends a detachments of its armored bulwark to aid The Citadel in its defense.

It seems that whatever envoy reached The Order was successful.

As The Call is answered.


Objective: Answer the call of aid from The Aegis

---

[DwizzleDorf]

Great fountains of flame rise, and sounds of steel being forged echo from the doors of Grimhjall Abbey. Men are seen transporting huge volumes of weaponry and armor through the snow towards the great citadel of Aegis while soldiers march alongside.

.

The torn banners are raised, and the flaming titan Ikonocles rouses the troops within the depths of the abbey's snowy slumber, his great eye keeping a watchful gaze over the bridge just past the checkpoint.

.

"Let it never be said that those of the enclave stand idle while our brothers and sisters of the Citadel stand against the fel tide. The demons shall break upon our shields and die upon our spears."

.

The Sundered Enclave marches with a singular objective.

.

Repel the Fel

[Kazama]

BUT WHO?! Who still remains of 'the Fel'? A Kingdom of Demons and Occultists that had all but disappeared, no?
Footage of a secret meeting emerges, collected by the spies of the various nations. Evidently, the ones assisting Vana'Rath to restore the Fel are none other than...

"Alright chums." -- The man making a speech seemed all too reluctant to take the stage. He slumps over the podium, lazily leaning an elbow against the stand and tapping against the magitech microphone used to project his voice to the small audience of occultists, necromancers, and a scattered few native-demons. "If you've made it to this meeting... congratulations! Welcome! Please have a seat. I'm speaking on behalf of The Parasite. I'm seeing a lot of new faces around here, so let me be the first to welcome you to Morningstar. Unfortunately, not much remains of the old Morningstar... but you all are apart of a new Fel Nation."

Geist clears his throat, leans in close to the mic, and says, "You are probably going to die horribly." A chill sweeps over the room. "You will probably be killed by a gifted son, or daughter of this world. Someone who has experienced an overwhelming wealth of love and fortune in their life. They were born more fortunate than you, and you will die having never reached their level of comfort or satisfaction in your lives."

"But... if the thought of surviving that pitiful circumstance and turning it around--- if the thought of spilling the blood of those fortunate sons excites you--

If you're a gambler like me--
Lay down your life. Let's go all in."

THE MORNINGSTAR LENDS THEIR AID TO VANA'RATH!

[Kal]

As a certain kitsune heard the news the gaze of the Sun would shift, it's heat bearing down upon a certain demon.
A promise made long ago, when they first met, to be acted upon once more.

"I told you long ago when you made this promise that I would be there to meet you with each step you took upon the lands of the Citadel, this time will be no different. You think that just because it is weakened that it will fall, you will come to find that such line of thinking will be a grave mistake. You could not encroach on it properly at it's peak, you will not do so now. I will see to it."

The Chancellor offers her aid to the Ten's Citadel.

"I will do what I fell short of doing all those years ago."

Objective:
Repel the Fel from the north, finish the job she failed to do many years ago.

[Heimdalic_Dreams]

Word would come.


Word etched on burning whispers, held together by whisps of smoking ash - A desolation declaration, a decree from the Titanlands of Mor D'hora. 


Words directed towards a certain yellow-iced Nethrademon, whom had come to him oh so recently. Enough time had passed for his thoughts to mull over.


And now - Polyphemus voice rang as a certain flame-headed Scribe etched down his words. Yet surely the realm would hear him. 


Such was the Titan of Babels' way. 

"Vana'Rath," came the rumble from shattered woods, in a voice which pitched the ground around. "My answer comes to you."

"Indeed, mortals - Humanity, these lowly ephemerals you spurn, represent the very essence of your being, the things which collected you, and made you whole - Even as it sunders them. Yet, their existence is a double-edged blade. A paradox of pure hatred and self-awareness. While they sully their existences under their false gods and staged virtues, knowing them only insofar as to echo them off each other, they yet harbor the powers and pain to challenge even the Heavens."

"To challenge even themselves."

He gazed upwards, the emerald manaburn of his eye revolving upwards, before vanishing into the void, gesturing towards the dancing stellar lines of the all-encompassing universe. His tone held a philosophical tinge, confident and deeply rooted in wisdom well learned, and even more well ledged within the very foundation of the budding primordials mind.

"Unlike you, who skim the scum of their dark desires for sustenance, I admire them - I foster them in the name of ego. They are feeble, yes, but they create, they fight - birth, life, and death - all in the name of self-indulgence and self-realization. Their cultural progress and scientific discoveries bypass their gods' inherent duality, towards a time of self-righteous certainty."

"This, I look forward to most astutely."

"Mortals, in their essence, are grey in their dark and light. Their many flaws, while they may feed your twisted inheritance, have a potential to forge the brightest of lights, if only they learned to remove themselves from the weight of their gods' selfish endeavors - Their pathetic war, foremost in mind. It is the existence of their flaws which allows them to search, seek, and strive towards redemption, improvement, self-exaltation. To my mind, they’re a fragmented microcosm of the divine order, whose flawed nature fosters their humanistic growth, which in turn influences understanding the greater world beyond that which even their deities could reach, trapped within themselves as they are."

A pause, a beat, a flip of the page, as his daughter continues to write. He kindly waits for her to catch up, bless her, before continuing. 

"Do not despise them in their entirety Vana'Rath, for they are the seed of finality, the potential embodiment of infinity that we can influence. You may revel in their hate, but I will take their alms, or die in their light."

His hand would rise once more, cupping Howtia into his fingers even as she continued. He saw them - humanity and those whom propitiate them - as deluded puppets in their metaphorical circus, dancing to the tunes of their mindless and imprudent gods, constantly seeking validation for their lives and every savage act.

"Though. What you have said also holds merit; their beliefs have twisted their moralities - Shifted their individuality. And sundered the very cores of their beings."

"Without these things, they Will. Not. Grow."

"They have entrenched themselves in religious wars on and off for decades now, with lost generations, torn families, and nightmares of a world where peace can never exist. And even now, they still have more allies and friends to call upon, in order to smother you in completion. They still root out more people to stomp upon you, despite holding more than enough to defend against."

"The gleam in their eyes as they murder their kin for the supposed 'greater good,' as they saw it, sickens me - This, in the same vein, is unsurprising. Such is the lengths they have been taught to go to. The gods which they proclaimed their love for seem just as blind as I once was - incapable of seeing the destitution their 'blessed' beings have wrought upon themselves at a mere word from their unrighteous lips."

"The battles are their honeypot of battlelust, the sickly, sticky mess that ensnares them, turning their kin against each other. A golden chance for those not bound by their feckless persuasion..."

"A silver lining in the darkened, heavy clouds they have made for themselves."

"As such."

"I Will Assist You, In This. Sending a few of my Hoplites - As well as Myself... If only for my own desires."

The Titan of Babel Lends His Support to a creature whose father , Moros, the constant of Hel, he will soon devour. 

For a price - To be paid in muscle and will, for the budding Primordials ever reaching ambition! 

[FireStartingSnake]

DATE: 5pm EST, Monday, 26th

[Titania]

It is a simple enough message. One left right outside the base of those who call themselves Morningstar, pinned by daggerpoint as if to emphasize how familiar it is to the one who left it. It is a scrap of paper, bearing a simple message. A single sentence, directed towards the newest Imperfect of Meranthe.

A rebuttal, laconic as it is, offered towards one of those who have inhabited the festering carcass of her folly following the death of the Second Prophet at the Nest's hands.

---

---

"You can't wear the crown until the queen is dead, little demon."

---

---

The Once-Prophet, Stigmatized offers her aid to the forces of Aegis, in opposition of what she once created. Even if she must walk alone to do so.