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Established close to the border of the Gandarl Isk Province, not too far from the Krelnuul Advance, the expanding hamlet of Tarskholm has known calm for as long as it has existed. The heavy sabatons of the Ninth Full Moon Battalion crunching deep into the snow are a comforting reminder of the protection the people here have from what dwells in the dark. The flickering and crackling of torches are some of the only other sights and sounds experienced in the darkness that is, aside from the stars above. It is easy to become distracted peering skyward, dreaming of a better age, forgetting the hardships that must be endured every day. However, beautiful as they may be, what is more important is surviving...

Writing letters, retelling sagas, and observing the stars are some of the favoured activities of those serving in the name of the divine. Alertness at all times is required, so anything too involved is off limits during shifts. “What do you think happened to Jul?” speculated Corporal Tidesson, gazing into the constellations far in the distance. “What do you mean?” Sergeant Lahlberg unsure what to think of the question. “I mean, how did He freeze over? Was He always that way maybe? Did the other Stars curse Him perhaps?” Tidesson asks locked into their train of thought, mumbling more and more questions relating to the Frozen Star. “I expect he chose to be. What form could be more fitting to watch over this frozen Hell-- Wait? Do you feel that?...” Lahlberg trails off as a low rumble begins to shake the earth.

Off during an expedition into the nearby Chasm of Saargd, a terrible earthquake shook the land, and the elite Lunar Eclipse Pyreteam has ended up cut off from their access point as the wicked fissure collapsed in on them. The resolute brave have no choice but to delve deeper in order to seek an escape from the schism they find themselves now stuck within, drawing upon the powers of Ien to aid them. Terrors roam the towering ravine, but it is fortuitous that moonlight at least shines down on the faithful, amplifying the connection to their God. They had cleared much of the existing trials previously, but new threats always emerge it seems. The living are indeed not the only ones surviving...

“Praise be to Ien. Are you all okay? Vassan? Falks? Tymir?” inquires Nocten. “Aye.” “What happened?” “All accounted for.” answer the three in sequence. “Felt like a tremor, which would explain the cave in behind us now.” snarks Vassan. Falks and Tymir clearly not amused by Vassan’s perpetual sarcastic attitude once again just scowl at the rowdy knight. “There’s no time for messing around. We only have one way out now, and that’s the other side,” proclaims Nocten, marching forth. “This should help,” says Tymir, grabbing a pinch of moondust from one of the small satchels at her waist, and blessing each of their blades. Now radiating to provide vision in the dark, they all continue their journey. Falks requests a stop not long after and points, noticing something in the corner of their eye, “Here! Do you see this?” A rune once shrouded, hidden on the wall glows as they move and hold their swords closer to it. “It can’t be,” whispers Vassan, in shock for possibly the first time in his life.

Back in the shadow of the colossal chasm, the unsuspecting village suffers a chill wind blowing throughout, extinguishing the unsteady flames dimly lighting the well-trodden paths. Many inside the walls of this safe haven have awoken from the great disturbance already, and are starting to perceive a shift in the air. As one of the Glacial Knights sworn to defend this small community reignites the brazier of their guard station, a frightening shriek of horror is let out from beyond, and the creatures of the night commence their deadly assault on the innocent. Survival and hope are one and the same for the peoples of Kälran...

Lieutenant Llin!” exclaims Captain Waelund from atop the central belfry, with a loud horn echoing across all of Tarskholm soon after. A tall knight clad in weather-beaten plate rushes up to the spire and ascends in haste. “You know what to do,” Waelund asserts as soon as they reach the apex. Together they work to craft sacred sigils in the air, chanting hushedly as they go. This culminates in two bright flashes of lightning shooting up and into the sky in synergy, and the Heavens overhead illuminate from focused starlight. All other stars appear to have been faded, lending prominence to anything below the celestial bodies.

First dread fills their hearts, then panic fills their minds. The inhabitants of this frontier town are now required to flee from the accursed force that is about to beset them. Clamouring noisily in the frosty streets, countless families rush towards the trenches leading away and back to the fortress of Astos, a dozen leagues west. Captain Eaken Waelund commands the defenders of these people, and ze will hold the line until assistance from the Crescent Regiments reaches them, however long that may take. Mothers are losing track of their children in the chaos, and the young are screaming out as they scramble in the confusion. There must be hope…

“I’ll rally the knights,” affirms Lieutenant Llin, her pure conviction bolstering the strength and fortitude needed in a time like this. Heading back to the base of the tower, Llin meets with Sergeants Ragar Lahlberg, Hurnln Dönss, and Jars Dönss. Instructing them of their duties, each then goes with alacrity to issue further orders to their troops, and clear the evacuees out safely. Before Llin can make her way to ensure the main gates are barricaded, undead come crashing, smashing their way straight into the sanctuary, devouring several knights in the process. Swiftly pulling from her belt, she tosses a holy molotov into the breach before crying out, “Novos yar Rae dom!” Soldiers uniting behind her, they fight forward trying to reach the opening as fresh monsters attempt to gain a foothold inside, crumbling in vain due to the blazing righteous fires brought to life.

Sprinting in the distance, units from the Second Waxing and Seventh Waning Crescent Battalions journey as one. Rescuers, liberators, and saviours. Whether by Rae, by Ien, or by Jul, these knights in bloodied battle-tested armour are the angels Tarskholm needs so direly. The Waxing Crescent Regiments’ champions are some of the most attuned to their Light, as astonishing ethereal magick fuels their arsenals. The Waning Crescent Regiments’ heroes are similar, but rather than spells being a staple, they use extraordinary enchanted and technologically advanced equipment to elevate their amazing combat prowess. Kinetic shields that blast foes apart, transforming gunblades to be ready for battle in all terrain, and much more. The stars show the way, so they can make their presence well and truly known. There will be hope…

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Créé par J Wall il y a 2 ans. Dernière modification par J Wall il y a 5 jours

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