|Topic Review (Newest First)|
|04-09-14 12:25 PM|
Winter of 1249
When the winter came, it did not hold back. A cold that had never before been seen blew across Kolnur, freezing hand to weapon and causing steel to shatter as if it were glass.
But it was not for the deep winter, seizing the land, that this season would be remembered for, for this season would indeed be remembered. Stories of it would be heard on the wind, as straggled survivors gathered others around them and spoke in dark voices, as firelight flickered across their broken features. For this would be a story that would last throughout the ages, passed from father to son, until soon it was nothing more than a legend. But they say every legend has a glimmer of truth.
It is said that when Lan Halfelven led his men into the twisting rift, not sure of where it would carry him, or whether he would even survive the journey, he ensured that his name would be forever remembered. For it is in that one act that he may have saved Kolnur from the Darkness.
The legend says that none of Lan's soldiers ever spoke of what they saw in that portal, that it was to indescribable for them to ever speak with their mortal tongue. But what is know, is that many were lost in that rift, hundreds of proud Esterwynne's simply being snuffed out, probably with no chance to fight for their life, their existence simply ceasing in an instant.
And yet, the few survivors claim that above Salthisuar there was a mighty screech, the cry of a Dragon in anguish, the instance before the sky itself began to tear itself apart. The very fabric of reality began to rip that day, and all across Kolnur, almighty rifts appeared in the sky, dragging reality itself into their seemingly all-consuming selfs.
In the Oceans themselves, these great rifts tore themselves open, engulfing the proud Anicean navy in an instant, before they dissapeared, leaving nothing but a few broken and shattered rafts behind, and stunned survivors.
Even as the valiant soldiers of the Great Trade Republic prepare to make their last stand against the Darkness, defiant till the last, the arrayed ranks of proud men and women are simply gone in an instance, leaving nothing but the ringing notes of an almighty thunderclap. And in the bay, the ships that bore them from their homeland are gone, leaving nothing but the rippling waves upon which the mighty ships once rested, but no longer.
The remaining armies of Esterwynne, those who stayed behind as Lan Halfelven led his army through the portal, have no time to react as the rift explodes, engulfing them all and spiriting them away to wherever the portal leads.
And the Crystal City itself, although the crystal structures are little more than broken ruins now, is torn from the ground as the sky opens up and rips itself apart. Kogan-Sul and Salthisuar alike, the armies of Free Kolnur are gone in an instant.
But it is not just the armies of Kolnur that are engulfed by the rifts in reality itself, for as the straggled survivors discover, as they stumble into the light, shielding their eyes. For the Shadow dissapears that day as well. And although the very land is gripped in an icy chill, it seems to be more of the Kolnur of old, as colour and life begins to seep once more into the land.
The few survivors that remain slowly begin the almighty task of rebuilding from the shattered ruins left behind from years of endless conflict, but over many generations, Kolnur is reborn, although it is still just a shadow of it's former self.
Over time, the story of Lan Halfelven and the Rifts pass into fireside tales, and the legend of the Darkness becomes nothing more than a scary story to get young children to behave.
And yet, there still remains the question, when the free armies, those of Anicea, the Great Trade Republic, Kogan-Sul, Esterwynne and Salthisuar, dissapeared, where did they go? But that's another story.
|04-02-14 06:04 PM|
“I can see what it is, I need to know where it goes,” I said, slamming a palm onto the table to stifle the arguments and exclamations of disbelief as what was left of my people’s leaders argued about the portal we had been confronted with. The landscape around it was twisted, cracked and burnt as if it were the heart of a volcano yet no fiery mountain stood for miles around. It was impossible, it should never have happened and yet here we were, looking across this hell.
“We don’t know. We know nothing of where it goes or what caused it.” The words were spoken quietly from the rear of the room.
It seemed the whole world was tearing itself apart. The Shadow had come the first time and smashed the Great Alliance. We had rebuilt slowly after that, trying to piece together the remnants of our shattered lives. It came again, more insidious this time, wiping out the weaker nations before moving on to the stronger ones, Megant being the first to fall. The Puplori, those brutes who had murdered those who attempted to parlay with them were annihilated by the Great Trade Republic and Kogan-Sul. The Pure went on a foolish crusade, attempting to take Kolnur for its mad immortal ruler. The other nations of Kolnur crushed them while we held the northern line against the Shadow. The newly-formed Order was the first nation on the continent to fall to the Shadow, so recently after their people had overthrown their mad rulers and replaced them. Robualy and Turokhi fell next, followed by the Empire.
Likome, Skibul and Darkorin fell to monsters from the seas and the remnants of their armies fled to Salthiusar. Dagren and Kerin-Curan were consumed by the destruction of the islands that had been their homes for thousands of years in a last ditch attempt to stop the Darkness. Kogan-Sul abandoned their home and rode to Salthiusar to defend the crystal city that seemed to hold our last hope. The Great Trade Republic was driven from their homes and took to the seas and Anicea’s Iron Navy was reborn again, sailing the oceans and dealing death to all the creatures they found as their almighty gun fired across the world, annihilating everything it struck. Even we had been forced to abandon the home that had sheltered us for longer than many of the other nations of Kolnur had even existed.
“We have no choice anymore. We must enter the Portal. Kylar, take our people to Salthiusar. I will lead my men into this portal.”
Lan (1 Dragon - Warder if Dragon is killed), 750 Sentinels, 250 Guardians, 250 Hoplites and 25 Magi move into the Portal
All remaining units stay in Province 40 to defend Lan and possibly to cover his retreat if necessary. If he is forced to retreat they’re prepared to continue fighting their way to Salthiusar.
Build Castle in Province 40
|03-20-14 08:44 PM|
“So, Milord, what do we do now?” Asked Valark, lowering the parchment. “They clearly won’t budge.”
Baggro sighed. “I have a plan, but its damned risky.” He beckoned Valark closer and began to explain.
As the army’s of the Old Great Trade Republic finally set foot upon the greying shore, something felt amiss. There was silence across the shore. In the distance, trees were visible, but all the colours, of everything, the leaves, the ground, even the sky, were muted and dulled strangely. It was as if the land was, sick. The army stumbled forwards, veteran and conscript alike. They looked like children, lost in the thickening fog. The leader, Valark, shouted out. “Keep together!” his words traveled a few meters before the fog snatched them up, but it was enough. Soon the order was spread across the army and the ranks closed tight.
They shuffled forward in unison, up the hill of sand dunes on the sea shore. As the first troops clambered over the top of the hill, they gasped. Below them was a corpse field: Thousands of the denizens of the darkness, feasting on rotting corpses, the place may have once had a farm house in it, but the land was so covered in rotting and charred corpses, ruined, diseased trees and unspeakable filth, that there was no sign of ground. Spikes jutted out of the floor, skewering bodies, parts of which were being ripped off in a sick parody of a fruit plucked from a tree.
From the armoured warriors, sitting and standing, fighting and torturing the few, traumatised prisoners, to the hulking beasts, who were gorging themselves on the decomposing bodies, blood and filthy, yellowish fluids splattering their black, matted fur. Swarms of enemies were were milling around. They had yet to see the approaching army, but perhaps two seconds later, eyes started flicking into their direction, snarls could be heard. A ripple of fury surged across the lines of the darkness. Valark screamed out. “Hold together and split them up! We must defend the beach They’re only dangerous as a group!” The front line of troops looked on grimly, but behind them, as the army formed itself at the top of the hill, less well equipped and far more terrified looking warriors stood. Whilst a few held real military weapons, most carried pitchforks, knives on brooms and hunting bows. Assembled, the last army of the Republic was a mighty number, but so too was the foe. The horrifying force arrayed against the men and gnomes was already thundering forwards. The soldiers in front raised shields and spears, whilst behind them crossbows, rifles and pistols clicked ready, aimed at the horde of onrushing foes…
Ships empty onto the shore, all combat ready individuals move into territory 24.
|02-23-14 04:21 PM|
Autumn of 1249
The continent of Kolnur is little more than a shattered and broken wasteland of death and despair. Even those few lands that can still claim that they resist the Darkness are blackened and torn from a never-ending fight for their very survival.
For more than six years, Kolnur has done it's best to endure against the Shadow. In that time, the very landscape of the continent has changed.
The first nation to fall was Megant, the distant civilisation to the West that was destroyed in a matter of days. Next to fall was the war-like and brutal Puplori, destroyed in less than a year by the combined efforts of the Great Trade Republic and Kogan-Sul. Then it was the turn of the Pure, the fanatical nation that proved to be too aggressive, destined to be brought to it's knees by a combined invading force and then divided up by the conquerors. Next to fall was the newly-formed Order, the country almost torn apart by civil unrest, and the first nation on the continent to fall to the Shadow itself. Robualy was destroyed by a sudden and unexpected push by the Darkness, deep into the heart of the continent. Turokhi found herself destroyed between the armies of the Empire and the endless hordes of the Shadow. Next to fall was the Empire, once one of the most formidable military powers known, brought low by the hordes and foul creatures of the Shadow, that swarmed over the walls of the castles and slaughtered the people in their hundreds of thousands. Then it was Likome, Skibul and Darkorin, all shattered by monstrosities that dragged themselves from the depths of the oceans, their armies fleeing from a fight they could not hope to win alone. Dagren and Kerin-Curan were both consumed in almighty eruptions as Kerin-Curan detonated the islands that had been both nations homes for thousands of years, a last effort to stop the Darkness sweeping forth from the West. The great horse-lords of Kogan-Sul abandoned their lands and rode forth to defend the one civilisation that may hold the key to their salvation. The Great Trade Republic were driven from their homes by the never-ending Shadow and took to the seas in an attempt to outrun their fate.
So much death, so much destruction, but still there are five nations that stand defiant.
Anicea's Iron Navy, reborn once more, again moves through the waters, deadly, silent, and hungry for revenge. Upon their homeland, the almighty cannon that is already passing into legend, fires once more, showing that somehow Anicea continues to hold her ground.
Upon the boats and ships that the Great Trade Republic now call home, the sound of hammer on metal rings out across the water as the ragged remains of the once mighty nation prepare to risk all in a desperate attempt to reach he last beacon of hope.
Kogan-Sul's remaining soldiers stand shoulder to shoulder with the fabled Guardians of Salthisuar as they continue to hold the Crystal City.
The fleeing armies of Esterwynne have come upon a twisted landscape the like of which has never been seen. A rift in the very fabric of reality seems like a burning sun upon the land, yet the remaining Magi of Esterwynne claim it is a portal of some kind, although none know the destination...
And finally, the last beacon herself, the City of Knowledge, Salthisuar, somehow continues to hold, her people fighting and dying in the shattered remains of the Crystal City.
|02-20-14 09:35 PM|
Valark’s eyes twitched left, seeing an unusual ripple in the water, he snapped his finger up to point at it. Two dozen men leveled their weapons at the ripple. A young lad, by the name of Rickel, took up a long, thin spear and thrust at the still rippling water. There was a splash and the boy pulled his spear back, on the end of it was a large fish. Valark didn’t even bother to show any relief, he just reverted his attentions to the water once more, staring into the darkness. Baggro watched him from the doorway into the cabin. The poor man had been spiraling into depression. He no longer fought for anything beyond simply surviving. He didn’t sleep, he barely ate and he spent every hour of the day watching the waters and the skies for new foes. The Great Trade Republic’s survivors had suffered horrific blows. There was no telling if survival was even a viable option any longer.
Baggro sighed, he’d been debating with himself all night and had finally come to a decision. He approached the captain and greeted him. “Pietor.”
“Milord.” Grunted Valark.
“How many weapons do we have left?”
“Five thousand, two hundrend and fifteen rifles, six thousand and twelve pistols, sixty five crossbows and around six thousand swords. We have Fifty two artillery pieces awaiting use. I’m inventorying everything. We have around two dozen rifle rounds per rifle, two thirds as many pistol rounds per pistol and maybe two hundred crossbow bolts.” Valark said instantly. He turned to Baggro, looking at him straight in the eye with a dark, cold look in his eye. “Milord, I’m going to arm everyone, I’m going to lead them to fight, we need to come to land, this is worse than the sieges, the effect on morale has been horrific. I would suggest you officially condone this action, we are more or less the only two leading entities remaining, infighting between us might incite revolution.”
Baggro gave him the smallest of smiles. “I’d come to the same exact conclusions myself, actually Pietor. But you’re missing some factors, how many knives, woodcutting axes, hunting bows and fishing spears do we have? If we can bring together anything that can be used as a weapon, it will increase our chances of any form of success.”
Valark’s eyes opened slightly, then he nodded. He beckoned over two of his junior officers and began to explain the plan to them. There expessions were grim, but lacked surprise. One officer, a young gnome by the name of Nihrir Baylium, posed a question that dampened the kindling of hope in Baggro's chest.
"We have weapons, perhaps, but how many people are able to fight? Too many have succumbed to sickness and most of the men who were of an age to fight were slain in the final sieges. Who do we look to to aid us?"
Valark nodded grimly, "Anyone, everyone willing to fight. We'll take everything we can get, we'll put the strong up front and the weaker ones behind and pray that it will take us through to land."
OOC: Fleet moves to sea block 71 (or as close to as they can get)
A desperate conscription process begins as citizens are armed with whatever weapons have either been looted from the dead or can be roughly crafted from existing tools.
|02-18-14 07:20 PM|
Continue fleeing to Salthiusar - All units move from Province 46 to Province 40
Recruit Huscarls in 46 to form a rearguard
|02-17-14 04:10 AM|
Another season passed, and still the forces of Darkness came. Despite this fact, the unified forces of the Horde of Kogan-Sul and the defenders of Salthuisar held the line, though the losses continued to compile. The Khan wished to break free, to take the fight on the hoof, though this was impossible, for as far as any could see there were the legions of Darkness. How long would the undead continue to battle, pondered the Khan, as the Lich had been torn asunder during his mortal combat with the magical being known as Hesperion the Khan had learned during his time with the Salth.
Contemplating the situation, the Khan grew vexed as days turned to weeks, weeks to months. With the agreement of his most trusted warriors, he made his way to the city guard. Seeking the most ornately dressed Salth present, the Khan spoke plainly. "Send word to your leader. I must speak with Iresp and the ruling council."
|02-03-14 04:19 PM|
Salthiusar (18): Turn 26, Summer 17th Era 69 (Common: 1269)
3rd of Risen Sun, 17th Era 69 (Common: 1249)
Wave after wave after wave. The Darkness would not cease.
If Salthiusar held strong, it was only because of the combined force beneath its walls. The true Salth were fewer in number by the day, reduced to a few thousand at best. The only upshot was that, with the death of Hésperion, none of the Kogani beneath its walls fell to the Curse. It was lucky that the Curse was permanent for the Salth.
All they needed now was a respite, a path to the Lich’s destruction. Yet, with his staunchest friend gone, even Irèsp could not hold to the Salth’s
-1000 Mages trained
-3,529 Mages (+1000)
|01-30-14 03:56 PM|
Train 1,000 Huscarls province 68.
550 Ironclads move from SP 22 to SP 36
200 Ironclads move from SP 42 to SP 36
325 Ironclads move from SP 47 to SP 36.
300 Ironclads move from SP 46 to SP 36.
225 Ironclads move from SP 50 to SP 44.
200 Ironclads move from SP 43 to SP 36.
100 Ironclads remain off the coast of Province 38, lending their cannon to the defence of Valbeach.
Cannon of Valbeach fires at province 21.
The people of Anicea had fled their home, seeking safety in the arms of strangers, only to feel the full wrath of the darkness upon them as the Shadow consumed Kogan-Sul. Countless had perished in the massacres that followed the Great Charge, and without the bastion of the Horde drawing the attention of the enemy, the Anicean army simply could hold on no longer, and fell beneath the tide. Out to sea, a day of mourning was declared amongst the Iron Navy in honour of the innumerable dead. However, not all was lost. The genius and courage of General Hokum ensured that some managed to escape with their lives. In the months leading up to the fall of Kogan-Sul, the General had been purchasing every sea-worthy vessel he could find, converting them into the foundations of a great fleet. His decision proved essential as the people of Anicea once again fled to safety in the waves. Now, they were a nation without a home – like so many others that had fallen to the vast weight of the Shadow’s forces, but they endured. Entire merchant vessels had been converted into floating farms, which coupled with strict rationing enabled the conglomeration of craft to sustain themselves away from the shore, and away from death. A vast fleet of fishing boats, trade-ships, prison hulks, and even larger leisure craft was all that the survivors of Anicea could call home, with the foul forces of the Shadow kept at bay by the vigilant watch of the mighty Ironclads of the Iron Navy. Anicea lay battered and broken, but any soul who gazed upon the mighty of her Navy would testify that she was yet beaten. Almost 2,000 warships sailed under the Anicean flag – now it represented the vast majority of all the Navies of what remained of Free Kolnur, and it remained proud. Hokum responded to the cries for assistance from the refugees from the Great Trade Republic, proposing that the two fleets merge together so as to ensure greater strength in numbers, with the secret hope, that perhaps together the two nations can reclaim the one last patch of green on the maps of Kolnur.
OOC: Sorry for the extended absence. Real life has hit me with a ton of bricks and I just don’t have the time for Heresy that I used to
|01-28-14 05:09 PM|
Summer of 1249
There is no long summer days, not anymore. Day and night are the same endless conflict against the Shadow, the sun is rarely seen through the choking ash and dark clouds that throw the continent of Kolnur into darkness.
Anicea's lands upon the continent have been breached, after months of fighting, and the people of that proud nation, who had set off as intrepid explorers so many years ago, are slaughtered in their thousands and all but wiped out. However, in their homeland, it is rumoured that King Elfire still holds back the vast armies of the Shadow at the base of Anicea's super-weapon, although none have returned from the hellish wasteland that Anicea's homeland has become since the great evacuations.
The Great Trade Republic's people, forced from their land and onto a great fleet of ships, continue to drift through the dark waters of Kolnur. As they pass over the eerie and shattered remains of Kerin-Curan's empire, deep below their vessels and the waves the ride upon, the nation of refugees send out messages to any who may hear them, seeking shelter and respite, even as transports are dragged to the deep by foul monsters of the Shadow.
The Great Charge has reached it's goal, and now Kogan-Sul's armies, people with no home to return to, take shelter in the ruins of the Crystal City, and pledge their allegiance to the last, and greatest, bastion that remains firm against the encroaching hordes of Darkness.
Esterwynne has abandoned her lands, realizing that they cannot hope to hold off the Shadow on their own. Instead, they have set their sights for Salthiusar, so far away and yet their only hope. And even as her armies flee, the Darkness rushes forwards and razes the lands that it has been denied for so long.
Of Salthiusar herself, her armies and the very city itself has been shattered and broken almost beyond repair. Yet they continue to stand firm against the Darkness, refusing to give in and whispering the evil words of Dark Magic as they continue to hold back the hordes of the Shadow.
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