Istarion Invasion

By: Tagg Posted on: April 18, 2012

A lone figure strides purposefully through the palace, winding through passageways hurriedly. This is Sindrastar Nerrinth, the High Counsellor of Istarion. Dark blue robes flow out behind her in her haste, her fingers worrying at the gold trim on the edge of her sleeves. She arrives within the throne room, eyes immediately setting upon Avathar'an, the King of Istarion. A great black feather-lined cape covers the back of the King. Dark green robes flare as he turns to face the High Counsellor, his skin tanned dark, brown hair even wilder than usual beneath his crown.

"What news?"

"My King, the Mhaldorians have caught us unawares. Their Necromancers provided distraction, burning the jungles and slaughtering those who rushed to respond. It allowed a small group of Naga to infiltrate the Merchant's Square unseen, opening the gates for the main bulk of their armies. Our outriders are in disarray, but the Sword, Watch, and Warren Ascendants are regaining position, organizing them. They have not broken through to the Palace."

"Yet."

Cries of pain echo through the streets, screams of fear intermingling as the citizenry flee from the invading army. Shouted orders and numerous war cries combine to create a cacophony of sound within the afternoon air, joined by the great roaring of numerous fires burning throughout the town.

A large battle is taking place within the Merchant Square, invading warriors pouring through the now ruined Wind Gate. They are met by lines of Tsol'dasi outriders, riding upon their great spider mounts of legend. Behind them stands Khurthia, Sword Ascendant of Istarion, and Saldesari Elisanil, Warren Ascendant. Khurthia barks curt orders in the Tsol'dasi tongue, holding the line together and telling them to push forward.

The sound of weapons clashing fills the air as both sides fight for position, arrows whistling by. Soldiers, spiders, and demons all fall before the various arrows and vicious attacks, the air soon smelling deeply of blood. Khurthia draws her twin silver blades, wading into the fray and slaughtering all in her path. Just as she cuts down a Baalzadeen, an imposing black stallion lands with a thunder of hooves, bat-like wings folding against its side. The rider vaults down calmly, features completely hidden within deep black robes. The entrance brings a momentary cease to the fighting, Mhaldorians falling to one side and kneeling before the figure, outriders regrouping on the other.

Khurthia points one long sword at the figure, point shining in the sun. "Take your armies and go, Tyrannus. You will find we are not so easily oppressed."

Bony fingers join together as the named Tyrannus gazes at the sword point, his features still hidden. A large Tsol'aa joins his side, his tailored clothing immaculate. A dark grey vest sits over a white silk shirt, the top buttons undone to show a hint of muscular chest brutally scarred by some cruel knife. His hands are in the pockets of his pressed black pants, just loose enough to allow for a free range of movement. Ice blue eyes narrow at the Tsol'dasi before him, the barest hint of a sneer on his lips. Following closely behind is a tiny white wolf cub, at odds with the scene around it.

The Tyrannus acknowledges the man with a slight nod and a murmured "Viceroy" before turning his attention back to Khurthia. "All will fall before Oppression and Suffering, as it is written. Accept the Twin Lords as your own, submit yourself to slavery within the Baelgrim Fortress, and you need not be slaughtered today. With or without you, the jungle will burn. With or without you, this city will fall. You have but moments to make your decision. Convert to the Seven Truths, or be crushed by them."

The words appear to have no effect on the outriders, all clutching weapons in mailed fists. The imposing form of Saldesari steps forward, a derisive sneer on her lips. "We are not the weak fodder you are used to, Mhaldorian. We are Tsol'dasi. We share ancestry with some of the greatest legends of old. We are warriors. WE ARE ISTARION!"

The final words are met with a roar of approval, outriders raising their weapons into the sky, the spiders underneath them chittering dangerously.

"Kill them all."

Khurthia lunges forward at the Tyrannus' words, only to be met by the Viceroy. Strong hands shoot out to grab Khurthia, throwing her bodily to the floor. Both sides rush forward once more, and the sounds of war filling the surroundings again.

Khurthia rolls away and quickly vaults to her feet, swords at the ready. She barely has time to twist her body away from a violent roundhouse, the wind whistling past from the momentum. Back and forth they fight, pressing each other for advantage, neither finding a weakness. Khurthia's enormous black spider suddenly bursts through a line of soldiers, chittering angrily and charging the Viceroy. Kai energy explodes from the man, deadly blue streams that slam into the spider and knock it prone. Wild shrieking splits the air as limbs are twisted at horrible angles, the spider writhing in pain.

Khurthia roars aloud, eyes wild as she sets upon the Viceroy once more, slashing wildly. The Viceroy stiffens one hand and slams it into the wrist of the Sword Ascendant, knocking the blade from her grip. A quick thrustkick knocks Khurthia back, but she manages to stay on her feet. She feels a pair of teeth lock around her boot, looking down to see the small wolf cub scratching and biting wildly. As she turns to kick it away, a stiffened hand impacts a precise point of her neck, and her entire body goes numb and collapses to the ground. Trembling and gasping for breath, she gazes up at the form of the Viceroy above her.

"You would have been a worthy convert, Sword Ascendant. Now, only your essence will remain to serve my Lord."

The large boot of the Viceroy is the last thing Khurthia sees before all goes black.

"RELEASE THE SPIDERS!"

Shantuir, the Watch Ascendant rushes forward, followed by the thunder and wild chittering of tens of spiders. Through it all, the Tyrannus calmly strides forward, given a wide berth by ally and foe alike. One particularly brave sword spider begins to rush the shrouded man, only to turn in terror and flee from the gaze of the Tyrannus. Leaving the sounds of battle behind, he approaches the palace. A diminutive figure approaches from the shadows, pulling her hood back to reveal dark hair held in place by a silver ribbon, eyes of similar color focused intently.

"Tyrannus. The Naga have dispersed the guards without issue. The King and Queen await you at the highest parapet, as ordered."

"You have done well, Naga."

The Naga quickly raises her hood to cover her features again, a slight coloring evident from the praise. Turning, she follows closely at the Tyrannus' heel, striding quickly through the winding path upwards. Finally arriving at the top of the palace, they come upon two cloaked Naga with dirks held to the necks of two bound figures on their knees, stripped of valuables and blindfolded. Strewn across the floor are two ruined capes, feathers lining the floor.

"Remove the King's blindfold."

The Naga above the King flashes his dirk upward, neatly slicing the blindfold in two. Sheathing the dirk, he draws a darkbow and moves to the edge of the room, training it to the King.

"Avathar'an, look out upon your jungle, and see what the forces of Mhaldor have done to your precious lands."

The King takes a tentative step towards the edge of the landing, gazing out. Eyes widen suddenly at the image before him, once green lands now without a trace of their former beauty, all foliage blackened and burned from the necromantic powers of Mhaldor. An eerie red fog has begun approaching the edges of the ruined jungle, spreading as it seems to feed off the destruction before it. Various demonic entities roam the blackened lands, chasing what little is left of the previously diverse wildlife. The city proper is strewn with the corpses of citizen and soldier alike, fires engulfing much of the once-great architecture.

Rounding on the Tyrannus, he manages to sputter "You! How...DARE YOU! This was our land, our home! BY WHAT RIGHT..."

His words are cut off by one raised finger from the Tyrannus. "By the will of the Twin Lords have your lands been annihilated. Once weak and pitiful creatures overrun by those far their betters, who will now become something more through the power of our Lords. Your lands become black and charred before our might...and you ask what right we have? By right of being your superiors, we cast your weakness from this world."

A wordless roar of rage emanates from Avathar'an, fiery eyes turning furiously towards the Tyrannus as he hurls one fireball after another, the air boiling from the potent magic. Multiple explosions rock the room, smoke engulfing the form of the Tyrannus.

As the smoke clears, a kneeling figure comes into view. The upper half of his body has been burned and blackened, little strips of fabric all that remains of the clothing once covering it. A thick red haze surrounds him, and the burned skin begins to heal rapidly. A slight shudder ripples through the man's body as it comes into focus, the scarred word 'Atrocitas' the only wound left. Ice blue eyes narrow at the King, his own wide with shock. Suddenly he feels as if a hammer is smashing through his skull, a piercing pain that forces him to his knees, clutching his head in agony. The Viceroy's lips pull back into a grimace, and he wipes the tattered remains of his shirt away. "Naga. Keep him upright."

The diminutive Naga nods in assent and removes the whip coiled at her waist, snapping it in the air. She steps behind the King and wraps it about his neck, pulling back to ensure his eyes are faced directly forward. A quiet sound of panic escapes his throat as he sees the scene before him, the Queen splayed out on the floor, limbs a twisted mess. Muffled screams are torn from the Queen's throat as the Tyrannus pins her down with his knee, hand engulfed in necromantic power. A twisted laugh booms through the room as he tears her chest open, ensuring each motion is met with as much pain as possible. Finally, he rips her sternum out and slams it through her body, pinning her to the ground in death. The King struggles against the pull of the whip, his breath choked from him as it coils tighter.

"Let him go, Naga."

The whip unfolds from about the King's neck and he rushes to the woman that was his Queen, taking her broken hand in his, openly weeping. He holds it to his chest, tears falling to the floor.

"Embrace your Suffering, Avathar'an. 'Cruelty - the application of pain - is the method by which one weeds out the weak and feeble-minded from the population.' Is the King of Istarion so weak? To be crushed so easily? Or will you join us, and teach the rest of this pitiful world the meaning of Suffering?"

Bringing his Queen's hand to his lips, he gives it a feathery kiss before placing it gently on the floor. He regards the Tyrannus with reddened eyes for a moment before drawing upon his vast magical power, readying one last strike. Before he can release it he feels twin blades stabbed into his back, the venom quickly spreading agonizing pain through his bloodstream. The Tyrannus gives a disgusted shake of his head before turning to his Viceroy, giving him a slight nod. Quirking his head for a moment, a cruel smile crosses the Viceroy's lips as he quickly jerks his head towards the side of the landing. The King is suddenly thrown violently across the room, his limp body hanging precariously over the edge. The diminutive Naga kneels next to him, long fingers pressing against his forehead.

"What is called evil is simply the drive for advancement, for greatness. We seek, through discipline and pain, to spur the advancement of nothing less than sentient life." With those final words she pushes him off the edge, the image of his dying lands filling his sight as he plummets to his death.