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| Odelen; South-East of Aelendak | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Apr 6 2010, 05:41 PM (377 Views) | |
| chadden | Apr 6 2010, 05:41 PM Post #1 |
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High Advisor to the Archmage
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--Enters from Aelendak-- Daemmion appeared in the centre of the city. Odelen had been lucky enough to, for the most-part, avoid any conflict during Drathmor's invasion. Daemmion, however, had been quick to overrun the port city. The population were still alive and being kept in their homes. Twenty thousand orcs were stationed here, but no undead. Odelen was not as large as Aelendak, intended more as a port. The old necromancer leaned heavily upon his staff, weak from his battle with the Mage Lord. An orc approached him. "Master! We... we did not expect you?" "Aelendak is lost." said Daemmion through panted breaths. "What?" exclaimed the orc. "You heard me, minion!" roared the necromancer, rounding on the orc in a matter of seconds. "The Weisslanders took it by storm. They are cunning and more dangerous than I have given them credit for." More orcs gathered around him. "Maybe you not so smart after all." hissed one. Murmurs followed, spread out throughout the crowd. Some orcs looked at the necromancer and licked their lips, believing he was weak enough to be overpowered. Slowly, Daemmion cast his eyes around the crowd, appearing calm. He saw the dissent in their eyes, the fear of Weissland, their faltering loyalty. "You ANIMALS!" he roared, slamming his staff into the ground. A shockwave burst from him, knocking the orcs to the ground around him. He gripped the last one to fall with unseen magic and tore his hand through the air. In response, the orc was thrown with titanic force towards a building where he smashed through a wall. Another was felled by a burst of green lightning. "You would dare to doubt me? After everything?" The orcs were back on their feet now, some with their weapons drawn, though they were all clearly startled and wary now that they knew Daemmion was far from helpless. "Who was it that rallied you when the Dark Lord abandoned you? Abandoned us! I led you here, I gave you a cause to call your own. And what do I get in return? At the first sign of trouble, the foolish among you see fit to condemn me! You wretched, pathetic, miserable cowards. How dare you. How dare you!" continued the necromancer. He took a few purposeful, confident steps towards some of them. The orcs backed off in response. "You think me weak because I was bested. Weak? WEAK?! Me? I challenge any among you that think of me as weak to stand here and face me. I promise you, I will flay you alive!" Many of the orcs had dropped their weapons by now and looked at each other in confusion, not sure how to proceed. "Now, we can continue this bickering or we can prepare for our next move." He turned sharply towards the orcs behind him. Some, with weapons still drawn, had been attempting to sneak closer but stopped dead in their tracks when the necromancer's ghostly eyes fell upon them. "And believe me; this course of action will not end well for any of you." The orcs spoke among themselves for a time until one finally came forward. "What are you orders, master?" "Sweep the houses. Give the people of Odelen a choice; serve me in life, or serve me in death." |
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"Stand against me if you must, for of course you will. Conflict is just another part of this flawed reality. You need to cling to your concepts and purposes, your feeble honour and glory. None of it serves any purpose in the end. And the end draws close." - Krodalis Thaendil. "It really is amazing; she killed Kelan Wealer, not that I am complaining, but then the order welcomed her as their new leader. It makes one wonder if I were to ram a blade down her throat, would the monks then follow my commands?" - Mordain Thaendil. One of the Last Guardians. Suck it. | |
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| chadden | Oct 24 2010, 05:36 PM Post #2 |
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High Advisor to the Archmage
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Daemmion's ranks had swelled since the battle at Aelendak. The people of Odelen, for the most part, had been kept alive. They were being put to work. Odelen would not fall as Aelendak had. Walls were being constructed, fortifications of all kinds. Anything that could be used to defend the city, was being used to defend the city. His orcs kept strict watch over the Weisslanders as they worked, and small scouting patrols were being sent regularly to Aelendak. Daemmion was in an immaculate house. It had belong to a lord and lady of Weissland, but now they served in the dirt with the same people they had looked down upon. Daemmion had taken an armchair and was sat beside the fire. He had also been one for the finer things. On a table before him was a tome, one that he had not kept with the rest in Aelendak. This tome he had carried with him at all times, in the form of dust. A simple necromancy spell; collapse the item to dust and carry it in a vial. Then, when using it, empty the vial and the item would reconstruct. This tome was one of Drathmor's, written by the Dark Lord himself. A fool he had been, but the Dark Lord's mastery of necromancy had never been in question. And in this tome, Daemmion hoped to find the answers he sought. It was clear to him, from his battle with the Mage Lord, that he was not powerful enough to defend his territory. That would not do. In this tome he hoped to find the means of unlocking the next level of necromantic power; become a lich. "Master." Daemmion turned sharply to find an orc standing in the doorway. "Yes?" "The King is gone from Aelendak. But we's think that the Mage Lord is still theres." "What of the army?" "Some of the hummies is gone, but many are still there, master." Daemmion nodded. "You can go. Keep the scout patrols running. And don't be seen." The orc turned and lumbered away. Daemmion pressed his fingers to his forehead, calmly rubbing his temples. Of all the creatures the Defiled Kingdom has to offer, I am stuck with orcs. He turned his attention back to the tome. His mind was working quickly, running over his forces, his defences and his enemies. But the transformation into a lich was at the forefront of his mind. That was his first task. Then, he would lead an assault against Aelendak and retake it. If the Mage Lord truly was still there, then he looked forward to meeting again. |
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"Stand against me if you must, for of course you will. Conflict is just another part of this flawed reality. You need to cling to your concepts and purposes, your feeble honour and glory. None of it serves any purpose in the end. And the end draws close." - Krodalis Thaendil. "It really is amazing; she killed Kelan Wealer, not that I am complaining, but then the order welcomed her as their new leader. It makes one wonder if I were to ram a blade down her throat, would the monks then follow my commands?" - Mordain Thaendil. One of the Last Guardians. Suck it. | |
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| chadden | Oct 25 2010, 05:56 PM Post #3 |
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Daemmion was still sat in the house he had taken as his own, tenaciously reading through the tome of the Dark Lord. The secret he sought had to be in here. The Weisslanders believed that the Necromancer Lords were the most dangerous and powerful wielders of necromancy, that they were to be feared above all else and that their power over the forbidden lore was unmatched. That was not true. A lich was the ultimate incarnation of necromancy, capable of drawing on far more power than a mere necromancer.But the secrets of the lich were hard to come by. Weissland knew little of them for they, in truth, rarely ventured from their lairs. They were content to remain in the shadows with their vast power for comfort, content in what they had to call their own and confident that their power would allow them to fend off any intruder. And they were almost as much a mystery to the Necromancer Lords. No one knew how to become one, because in the past few centuries very few, if any, Necromancer Lords had ascended to become a lich. Any lich that still wandered the world was likely to be as old as Drathmor himself. There. Daemmion's finger crashed down upon the page, marking the start of what would surely he the answer he so desperately searched for. He rubbed his eyes with his other hand before he began reading, determined not to miss a thing. And yet your powers will remain impotent, in the face of those who learn to truly embrace the art of necromancy. Join with that which you practice if you seek mastery of it. Your flesh is weakness. It bars your path to greater power. Look upon your repugnant skin with disgust. Feel your warm blood and be repulsed. Tense your mortal-born muscle and gain understanding of your own weakness. Only when you are rid of your beating heart will you ever become a master of necromancy, a master of death. For those who master death are not welcome amongst the living. I speak, of course, of becoming a lich. The path of the lich is wrought with danger, yet if you shy away from my words then you are already doomed to an eternity of weakness. All amongst our ilk believe themselves worthy of this great honour, but it is not for you to decide. Only those who have walked this path already may create another. And you will be tested. Should you fail, you will find yourself walking amongst the rotting flesh of those you once claimed to command. Your existence as a lich may only begin by the hand of a lich. Seek out a master of death and prove your worth. Eternity awaits. Daemmion closed the book. So that was it. To become a lich, he would have to find a lich. Such a task would be difficult for an average necromancer, but if his memory served him right then there was one not far from the Great Wall. He mused to himself; the Weisslanders would truly know fear if they dared gaze at what lay just beyond their 'Great Wall'. |
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"Stand against me if you must, for of course you will. Conflict is just another part of this flawed reality. You need to cling to your concepts and purposes, your feeble honour and glory. None of it serves any purpose in the end. And the end draws close." - Krodalis Thaendil. "It really is amazing; she killed Kelan Wealer, not that I am complaining, but then the order welcomed her as their new leader. It makes one wonder if I were to ram a blade down her throat, would the monks then follow my commands?" - Mordain Thaendil. One of the Last Guardians. Suck it. | |
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| chadden | Nov 29 2010, 01:18 PM Post #4 |
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Daemmion stood with two of his orc commanders, and a necromancer. "Gentlemen, I am leaving for a time." he said. "Why, master?" asked one of the orcs, revealing just how redundant the ever-present look of confusion upon his face was. "That is not your concern. If the worst should happen when I am gone, I don't want any of you to even have the option of breaking under Weissland interrogation and revealing my plans. I should not be gone long, perhaps as little as a few days. When I am gone, I entrust the three of you," he looked at the necromancer, "and especially you, to keep this city under my control. The Weisslanders will be unaware that I have left, so they will not know of any new-found advantage." "As you wish, master." said the necromancer, bowing. The two orcs merely nodded. "Good. I shall return soon." Daemmion's form began to crack and break as streaks of green lightning coursed across his body. Then he crumbled to dust and was gone. --Leaving Odelen-- --Entering the Defiled Kingdom-- |
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"Stand against me if you must, for of course you will. Conflict is just another part of this flawed reality. You need to cling to your concepts and purposes, your feeble honour and glory. None of it serves any purpose in the end. And the end draws close." - Krodalis Thaendil. "It really is amazing; she killed Kelan Wealer, not that I am complaining, but then the order welcomed her as their new leader. It makes one wonder if I were to ram a blade down her throat, would the monks then follow my commands?" - Mordain Thaendil. One of the Last Guardians. Suck it. | |
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| chadden | May 18 2011, 02:31 PM Post #5 |
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High Advisor to the Archmage
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--Entering from Defiled Kingdom-- Daemmion's form came together in a heartbeat. He took a great breath of fresh, clean, Weissland air. To be out of the Defiled Kingdom was a gift that he was thankful for every day he spent beyond that dark land. But it was a gift he had to fight for. The Weisslanders would not merely allow him to exist. They would see him pushed back into the shadows, or dead. The necromancer he had left in charge came over to him. "Master, you have returned!" "Yes. But our work is far from over." Daemmion began to walk towards his home, gesturing for the necromancer to follow. "What has transpired here in the time I was gone?" "Little of interest, Master. Work has continued on defences. There were a few... incidents, but they were made example of." "Then I have two tasks for you. Prepare a small unit, say four men, of our finest. They are to carry a letter north for me." "As you command, Master." said the necromancer. "And the other?" "Tell the Weisslanders that when their work is complete, they shall be free to leave." The necromancer stopped in his tracks. "Master, are... is that true?" Daemmion turned back to the man and nodded. "It is." "But why? They are the enemy, they are weak, they are-" "Enough." said Daemmion calmly, raising his hand as he spoke. "I travelled to meet a lich. He was an old servant of Drathmor. He thought himself invincible and was blinded by the teachings of that old fool. I will not suffer such blind idiocy. We must distance ourselves from the old ways, or we will perish." "Master..." "Do as I have commanded." "But... what is it that you mean to do, Master?" "I mean to survive. I mean for all of us to survive. War against Weissland would be foolish, and it would be one that we could not win with our numbers. Diplomacy is a better choice. A gesture of good will shall be the first stepping stone." |
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"Stand against me if you must, for of course you will. Conflict is just another part of this flawed reality. You need to cling to your concepts and purposes, your feeble honour and glory. None of it serves any purpose in the end. And the end draws close." - Krodalis Thaendil. "It really is amazing; she killed Kelan Wealer, not that I am complaining, but then the order welcomed her as their new leader. It makes one wonder if I were to ram a blade down her throat, would the monks then follow my commands?" - Mordain Thaendil. One of the Last Guardians. Suck it. | |
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| chadden | Aug 4 2011, 11:08 AM Post #6 |
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High Advisor to the Archmage
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Daemmion stood in the middle of the city, watching as his work was carried out. The fortifications were almost complete. They were mighty, all things considered. One of his acolytes approached him with a scorning look, though that was quickly discarded when Daemmion looked upon him. His decision to free the Weisslanders had not been well-received. "You summoned me, Master?" "Yes." replied Daemmion with a nod. "I need a message sent to the Mage Lord in Aelendak. Tell him that I want to meet him, face to face. My intentions will be strictly diplomatic. Do this at once." "As you command, master." The necromancer walked away to follow his instructions. Insolent whelp, thought Daemmion. Survival through conquest was not a viable option; Aelendak had shown him this. If the situation changed, he would still be willing to fight, but the opportunity for the upper hand would have to present itself. |
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"Stand against me if you must, for of course you will. Conflict is just another part of this flawed reality. You need to cling to your concepts and purposes, your feeble honour and glory. None of it serves any purpose in the end. And the end draws close." - Krodalis Thaendil. "It really is amazing; she killed Kelan Wealer, not that I am complaining, but then the order welcomed her as their new leader. It makes one wonder if I were to ram a blade down her throat, would the monks then follow my commands?" - Mordain Thaendil. One of the Last Guardians. Suck it. | |
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| chadden | Aug 10 2011, 10:36 PM Post #7 |
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High Advisor to the Archmage
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The servant returned to his Master, unhappy with what he had done but loyal nonetheless. "It is done, Master." Daemmion stood with his back to the necromancer, gazing from a balcony at the city below and the Weissland city to the north. "It is amusing," he said slowly as he turned to look at his servant. "I am sure the Mage Lord spoke with as much as disgust as you do now." The necromancer averted his gaze to look sheepishly down at his feet. Daemmion was a fair man, yet he had also been one of the Dark Lord's most powerful servants. Fear of his wrath still did wonders to keep his minions in line. And whilst Daemmion wished that they were loyal to him out of respect and admiration, he held no illusions about the true reasons; fear and a need for self-preservation caused these creatures to gravitate to him. "I know that you do not agree with me on this. None of you do." continued Daemmion as he returned to his view. "But this is necessary, however distasteful it may be to you. We cannot win a war against Weissland. I was foolish to try and hold both Aelendak and Odelen. The King has already demonstrated that, should he wish it, he can take from us all that we have claimed. For now, this is what we must do. I will not lose more of my men to the lingering ideals of our deceased master." "As you command, Master. The Mage Lord will meet you at midday." That was only a few hours away, thought the old necromancer. "Good. Now leave me. I must think." |
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"Stand against me if you must, for of course you will. Conflict is just another part of this flawed reality. You need to cling to your concepts and purposes, your feeble honour and glory. None of it serves any purpose in the end. And the end draws close." - Krodalis Thaendil. "It really is amazing; she killed Kelan Wealer, not that I am complaining, but then the order welcomed her as their new leader. It makes one wonder if I were to ram a blade down her throat, would the monks then follow my commands?" - Mordain Thaendil. One of the Last Guardians. Suck it. | |
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| chadden | Aug 12 2011, 10:44 AM Post #8 |
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Daemmion had grown anxious. His meeting with the Mage Lord was set to begin in less than an hour. He needed to think. The men of Weissland were far more brutal than they would admit, this much he knew. Furthermore, he did not believe that he could count on the Mage Lord to honour their agreement. Although, he mused, the Mage Lord likely suspected he was walking into a trap. Such a thought could become helpful in negotiations. Daemmion held more cards than the Weisslanders at this point, and he would have to play them very carefully. Now was not a time for rash decisions born of anger. He needed to remain calm and collected. The old necromancer took a piece of parchment and began writing instructions for what was to be done if the worst were to befall him. He had no intention of being captured or killed, but things did not always go as he had planned. Any mind could be taken by surprise; it was not a question of 'if', but rather one of 'when'. To believe himself invincible would be the first step towards Drathmor's madness, and he would not follow that fool into oblivion. The Mage Lord would ask what he wanted. Daemmion would tell him, plain and simple. The Mage Lord would ask what he had to offer, and again Daemmion would tell him, plain and simple. But what he sought would be met with instant dismissal, accusations of insanity, and laughter. But he would persevere. He had to succeed. He could not go back to the Defiled Kingdom, not again. Never again... Daemmion sealed the letter with a magical mark and called his necromancer acolyte into the room. He handed him the letter. "Should the worst happen, this letter will open. You are then to read it and follow its instructions to the letter." The acolyte's eyes lit up at Daemmion's mention of 'the worst'. Daemmion leaned closer. "Remember your place. How long do you think any of you would survive without me?" As he had done before, the necromancer looked away sheepishly. He was young; the fires of ambition still burned bright within him, averting his gaze from the bigger picture. "We will not call the Defiled Kingdom home again. This much I promise you." he continued. "Expect my return before the day is out. Keep a very close eye on the workers, and a closer one on the horizon. If a Weissland army approaches, hang ten workers from the walls. Tell them to stop and withdraw, or more people will die." "Master, you said they were not to be harmed?" asked the necromancer, a mixture of curiosity and anticipation washing over his face. "Indeed I did, but I cannot guarantee that the Weisslanders will not use this opportunity to mount an offensive. If they do, then you must be ready to drive them back. Any hung from the walls will be ill-fated and unfortunate casualties of war. And until I say otherwise, this is still a war." |
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"Stand against me if you must, for of course you will. Conflict is just another part of this flawed reality. You need to cling to your concepts and purposes, your feeble honour and glory. None of it serves any purpose in the end. And the end draws close." - Krodalis Thaendil. "It really is amazing; she killed Kelan Wealer, not that I am complaining, but then the order welcomed her as their new leader. It makes one wonder if I were to ram a blade down her throat, would the monks then follow my commands?" - Mordain Thaendil. One of the Last Guardians. Suck it. | |
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| chadden | Aug 12 2011, 07:18 PM Post #9 |
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Dammion walked through the city, towards the northern gate. Within, he was swelling with all sorts of thoughts and feelings. Anticipation and hesitance went hand-in-hand, even fear had its place. This was a decisive moment. "Master." Daemmion stopped to see his necromancer acolyte approaching. "Yes?" The young man seemed devoid of the resentful feelings he had been harbouring over the past few days. "Is it truly wise to go alone? The Weisslanders will not return your courtesy, you must know this!" He smiled. "They will not honour the agreement because there will be no doubt in their minds that I, too, have prepared a trap. This must be handled delicately." "It is a war of steel and sorcery that we are fighting, Master! Not one of morality." "Wise words, but do not fear for me." He placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "I will return. The Mage Lord has proven himself to be dangerous, but my brief travels have allowed me to accommodate that. You will be in command until I return. Keep the orcs in line, and keep the Weisslanders alive." He placed great emphasis on the final word. The man nodded. "Yes, Master, I will do as you ask." "Good." Daemmion walked past, but stopped and looked back. "It really is terrible form, but I do not know your name?" "Alistaire, Master. My name is Alistaire Morrok." Daemmion held forth his hand and gripped Alistaire's hand firmly. "You are in command, Alistaire. I will return soon." --Leaves Odelen-- --Enters Meeting Spot (Lone Tree)-- |
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"Stand against me if you must, for of course you will. Conflict is just another part of this flawed reality. You need to cling to your concepts and purposes, your feeble honour and glory. None of it serves any purpose in the end. And the end draws close." - Krodalis Thaendil. "It really is amazing; she killed Kelan Wealer, not that I am complaining, but then the order welcomed her as their new leader. It makes one wonder if I were to ram a blade down her throat, would the monks then follow my commands?" - Mordain Thaendil. One of the Last Guardians. Suck it. | |
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| chadden | Aug 22 2011, 06:19 PM Post #10 |
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High Advisor to the Archmage
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--Enters from Meeting Spot-- Daemmion walked through the gates of Odelen. As he passed, he looked up at the walls. They were tall and made most from stone; stone accounted for three-fourths of the walls' height, with the final quarter made of wood. Battlements ran along the top of the stone section with enough space to allow men to move along the walls, beneath the palisades. The palisades themselves had walkways along the top to allow archers greater distance of fire. Alistaire approached him briskly as he entered the city centre. "Master!" Daemmion held up his hand to quiet the man. "The Weisslanders did not hear my words, and in truth that is what I feared would happen. It was a shot in the dark, Alistaire, little more." He sighed. "But now we must look to our survival. They will come down upon this city with incredible force. We cannot hold against them. It is simply not an option." Alistaire looked around at the orcs sluggishly carrying out their duties before turning back to Daemmion. "What do you propose, Master?" he asked in a hushed voice. "This way." Alistaire followed Daemmion to a vacant alley just off the main square. Daemmion's features were heavy as he spoke. "Some must die in order for us to survive. We must leave orcs on the walls to cover our escape." "Escape? How? Master, we are sealed off." Daemmion looked to the coast. "This is a port city, Alistaire. We have five Weissland ships docked here. With the help of those ships we will escape." Alistaire paused, thinking over what Daemmion had said. "What of the people? The Weisslanders?" The old necromancer's face darkened. "As soon as a Weissland army appears on our horizon then their lives will be forfeit. I made that very clear to the Mage Lord." "Why should we delay, Master? Let us leave now!" "No, I want to give the Weisslanders one last chance to consider my offer. Once the people are dead, we will have lost any form of leverage. We must wait." He sighed. "I do not think they will reconsider. It saddens me that I must take this path, for it is one I fear I will be unable to stray from." He walked from the alley, back into the square. "Have the orcs prepare the ships and gather the civilians in the square. There is something else I must see to." |
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"Stand against me if you must, for of course you will. Conflict is just another part of this flawed reality. You need to cling to your concepts and purposes, your feeble honour and glory. None of it serves any purpose in the end. And the end draws close." - Krodalis Thaendil. "It really is amazing; she killed Kelan Wealer, not that I am complaining, but then the order welcomed her as their new leader. It makes one wonder if I were to ram a blade down her throat, would the monks then follow my commands?" - Mordain Thaendil. One of the Last Guardians. Suck it. | |
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| chadden | Aug 26 2011, 03:43 PM Post #11 |
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High Advisor to the Archmage
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Daemmion had been sat in his quarters for a long time, carefully thinking. He was considering his options and the outcomes of each. When the Weisslanders had struck at him, after accusing him of all sorts of malevolent deeds, he had spiralled into a rage. He had wanted the blood of the people, to see Weissland drown in its own intolerance. But, ultimately, that was not a good decision. It was not the right play. He summoned Alistaire to his quarters. "Master. Everything has been prepared as you instructed." Daemmion sat staring out of a window. "The Weisslanders, I have decided, are not to be harmed." "Master?" asked Alistaire, sceptical once more. "If we kill them then Weissland will hunt us to the ends of this world. I was blinded by rage when I made that choice." He turned to look at the acolyte. "And I will not sacrifice orcs to secure our escape." Alistaire folded his arms across his chest. "What would you have me do?" "Keep the people in the square. I will speak with them soon. Have the orcs continue preparing the ships to leave, but also have them empty the graveyards. I will use undead to stall the armies of Weissland and cover our escape." Alistaire sighed. "As you command, Master." As the acolyte turned and left, Daemmion turned back to the window. The Mage Lord had accused him of being a monster. Truthfully, there was a part of him that was indeed a monster. But that part grew smaller every day he spent beyond the dark of the Defiled Kingdom. He was committed to his cause, but wished it to be one free of bloodshed. The Mage Lord had said his protests at being called a monster were nothing but empty claims. So, a gesture was needed to show him that he was wrong. And if the Mage Lord didn't listen, if he proved to be too set in his ways and too blinded by the past, then there were others Daemmion could speak to. He rose and left his quarters. He would need to address the Weisslanders. Time was precious. |
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"Stand against me if you must, for of course you will. Conflict is just another part of this flawed reality. You need to cling to your concepts and purposes, your feeble honour and glory. None of it serves any purpose in the end. And the end draws close." - Krodalis Thaendil. "It really is amazing; she killed Kelan Wealer, not that I am complaining, but then the order welcomed her as their new leader. It makes one wonder if I were to ram a blade down her throat, would the monks then follow my commands?" - Mordain Thaendil. One of the Last Guardians. Suck it. | |
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| chadden | Aug 26 2011, 04:30 PM Post #12 |
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Daemmion stood in the centre of the city, looking out at the captive Weisslanders before him. They were ringed by orcs, all brandishing their weapons with some of them licking their lips. One snatched a woman from the crowd and pulled her towards a group of orcs. They looked hungry. Daemmion vanished in an instant and reappeared beside the group of orcs. With his staff he batted the orc to the ground and turned wrathfully towards the rest. They backed away. Calmly, he helped the woman back to the crowd where her family quickly bundled her out of sight. Daemmion sighed and turned back to the orcs. "You're acting like rabid animals!" His face was red with fury. The orcs backed away sheepishly. Harshly, he kicked the orc on the ground before pulling him to his feet by the scruff of his tunic. "Do you want the Weisslanders to kill you all? I am trying to get you all out of here alive, but if you show so little respect for my efforts then I promise you I will leave you here to die." He looked at the orcs as a whole. "Do you understand?" The orcs glared at him but, reluctantly, nodded. Daemmion returned to his pedestal to address the crowd. "People of Odelen." He began. The frightened crowd kept their eyes averted, but the old sorcerer knew that was to be expected. "Your work here is finished. For this, as I promised before, you will be released." Heads in the crowd were turning now to look at him, slowly but surely. He continued. "My forces and I will be leaving. When we do, you will be left behind and free to do as you please." He looked over at the walls and sighed. All that work... wasted! The faces of the crowd were beginning to light up, though many still seemed wary. "But, before we leave, I want to make you all an offer. I offer you the chance to join my forces." There were murmurs from within the crowd, and some of the brave even chose to laugh mockingly. Daemmion let this slide. "You are free to join me, I will not force you. Just as you will be free to leave any time you choose." "Why would we join you?" called out one of them. The old necromancer folded his arms across his chest. "Because your lords have abandoned you." "They would never!" "You are lying!" Daemmion held up his hands to silence them. "You may believe what you want, but wait until you have heard all that I have to say. I travelled to meet with a Mage Lord, a representative of your leaders. With him, I attempted to barter a deal. I asked for certain terms and in return I offered to set all of you free. He refused. Furthermore, he believes that I will kill all of you should a Weissland army march on Odelen, but an army will march here nonetheless. They care more about destroying me than they do about saving you." The crowd had gone silent, though hushed conversation and whispers were beginning to crop up throughout. Daemmion didn't wait for more to speak up. "This choice is yours and yours alone. When the Weisslanders approach I will be leaving, as will my forces. You have until then to make your choice. Choose wisely, people of Odelen. You can join me, or you can choose to stay with a nation that would rather destroy a single sorcerer than see your lives saved." |
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"Stand against me if you must, for of course you will. Conflict is just another part of this flawed reality. You need to cling to your concepts and purposes, your feeble honour and glory. None of it serves any purpose in the end. And the end draws close." - Krodalis Thaendil. "It really is amazing; she killed Kelan Wealer, not that I am complaining, but then the order welcomed her as their new leader. It makes one wonder if I were to ram a blade down her throat, would the monks then follow my commands?" - Mordain Thaendil. One of the Last Guardians. Suck it. | |
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| chadden | Aug 30 2011, 12:53 PM Post #13 |
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High Advisor to the Archmage
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"What is it, Alistaire?" asked Daemmion as the young man entered his quarters. "Truthfully, Master, I am concerned about the course of action you have chosen to take." he said cautiously. Daemmion closed the tome he was reading after marking the page and turned to face the acolyte. "Oh?" Alistaire's gaze flew around the room, nervously avoiding making eye contact with his Master. "It's just... If you truly wish to spare the Weisslanders, then why must we wait for a Weissland army to march before leaving? Could we not leave now?" "I want to give them a chance to reconsider my offer." said Daemmion as he turned back to the tome. "But Master!" exclaimed Alistaire, now looking directly at Daemmion with a very worried look across his face. "What if they don't reconsider and we linger here too long? What if their army marches and we are all cut down as we try to escape?" Daemmion turned back to Alistaire once more. This time, he paused before speaking. He was thinking. The boy made a good point... "You have a point, Alistaire." conceded Daemmion. "Tell the orcs to begin loading the ships. Any Weisslanders that wish to join us can go with you." "Go with me? Master, what will-" "I will stay." said Daemmion, cutting Alistaire off with a sharp wave of his hand. "I want the Weisslanders to reconsider. I have to try." Alistaire seemed just as concerned about this as he was with the other plan. "But you cannot control this city by yourself, or hold back an entire army! They will catch you, Master, and they will kill you!" "Do not fear for me, Alistaire. Have the dead been gathered as I asked?" "Yes, Master." said Alistaire, though now averting his gaze once more. Daemmion rose and pulled a map from one of his shelves. He laid it out on the table and pointed. "You will be in command until I arrive. Sail here. We can try to rebuild there, out of reach and sight of Weissland." Alistaire sighed. "Yes Master. We will leave within the hour." Daemmion looked up at him. "I will see you soon. Now go." Alistaire turned and left, just as Daemmion turned back to his tome. He tapped his finger idly off his forehead as he continued to work through the tome, titled 'Mage Lords of the Mystic Tower'. He had read over entries about Lathaon, Mordain, a woman by the name of Sergares, but one entry interested him more than the rest; Jarroth Boralays... |
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"Stand against me if you must, for of course you will. Conflict is just another part of this flawed reality. You need to cling to your concepts and purposes, your feeble honour and glory. None of it serves any purpose in the end. And the end draws close." - Krodalis Thaendil. "It really is amazing; she killed Kelan Wealer, not that I am complaining, but then the order welcomed her as their new leader. It makes one wonder if I were to ram a blade down her throat, would the monks then follow my commands?" - Mordain Thaendil. One of the Last Guardians. Suck it. | |
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| chadden | Aug 30 2011, 09:31 PM Post #14 |
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High Advisor to the Archmage
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Daemmion watched as the last of his forces boarded the ships. Two were war vessels, and the rest were transport ships. The orcs had piled in as best they could. Some had displayed a primitive version of honour and chose to remain behind with Daemmion, though the number was very low. Thirty, at best. And some of the Weisslanders had joined him. Little over two hundred, but the fact remained that they had made their choice. The ships would be leaving momentarily. As an added defence, he had placed a magical seal upon the hull of one of the warships. If necessary, it would activate. Daemmion hoped they would make it, but time would tell. He mused to himself how, in many ways, the roles in this 'fight' were strongly reversed. The Weisslanders would say they were defending their homeland and repelling invaders, and this was true. But they had blood in their eyes. Anger was commanding them. He knew it was not unjustified, but it was amusing how quickly the 'moral high ground' had been lost from under their feet. To attack a fleeing enemy, to run them down when they wanted nothing more than to be free... Daemmion thought of the last man he had met that had ordered such a thing; Drathmor. But he would not become Drathmor. If Weissland wanted to make the Dark Lord's mistakes, then that was their choice. All Daemmion could do was watch as that malevolent train of thought took them further and further down the path of madness, until nothing was left of their integrity and all was based on the lies of the insane. "Master." Daemmion turned to see an orc stood behind him. "Yes?" "Them Weisslanders what waited behind. They is growing restless. Me and the boys think they is going to try something." Daemmion nodded. "I will deal with it." He paused, looking softly at the orc. "Why did you and your 'boys' choose to stay behind with me?" The orc seemed confused at the question, as if the answer should be obvious. "You has given us a lot, Master. We owe you. If not for men like you, we would all be dirt under Drathmor's boot." If only they could see you now... Daemmion moved quickly to the center of the town where the people were still huddled together. They looked over at him sharply as he approached. There were whispers of revolting, of killing the villainous necromancer and running his orcs out of the city. But such things were not to be. "Calm yourselves. Soon, you will be free." he said loudly, yet calmly. "He's lying! He'll kill us all!" shouted one. "Not as long as you stay here and stay calm." said Daemmion, firmer this time. "My companions and I will not harm you, but we will not stand by and let you harm us. You have nothing to fear from us." The whispering resumed. People passed hushed conversations around. Daemmion rubbed his temple before speaking again. "If we attack you, by all means defend yourselves. But do not make the mistake of striking the first blow." He turned to look down a wide street behind the city. The dead had been gathered there. He raised his hands and began chanting; green energy shot from his outstretched hands and shot into the corpses, one after another. The bodies lurched and rose and began marching towards the walls. When the rapid-fire of energy was complete and all the undead were moving, Daemmion turned back to the people. "This is still my city. Do not forget that." His will commanded the undead up to the wallls. He moved to follow them, along with two of the orcs. Standing on the walkways, he watched as, in the distance, a Weissland scouting party approached. Let them see the numbers that stand upon these walls. As Daemmion watched from the walls, the ships at the docks moved out. Alistaire looked back at Odelen as it moved further and further away. --Leaves Odelen-- --Enters South-East Sea-- |
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"Stand against me if you must, for of course you will. Conflict is just another part of this flawed reality. You need to cling to your concepts and purposes, your feeble honour and glory. None of it serves any purpose in the end. And the end draws close." - Krodalis Thaendil. "It really is amazing; she killed Kelan Wealer, not that I am complaining, but then the order welcomed her as their new leader. It makes one wonder if I were to ram a blade down her throat, would the monks then follow my commands?" - Mordain Thaendil. One of the Last Guardians. Suck it. | |
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