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On they came the hordes of PHI and Imperial Abydos, joined by Zeonic and MAD auxiliaries. A relentless tide of armored men and woman with one single goal; The downfall of the greatest of Empires, an end to the glorious Legacy.

The ground shook as mighty armies clashed at the gates of Bastille, mountains growned in protest against the wrath of mages and sorceresses as fire and death rained from the sky, obliterating all life. Thus they burned, the proud cities of the greatest nation ever known. No quarter was given, those to slow to escape the advancing barbarians where cut down where they stood. Man, woman, child, the slaughter of unimaginable magnitude and cruelty.

In a last desperate act of defiance the remaining Legacy armies dug in, sacrificing themselves to buy time for their loved ones as city after city was evacuated, the refugees seeking shelter in the arid wastelands of the north.

With the capital under siege the empire scrambled to recall its countless Legions from distant battlefields, to no avail. One by one, those brave and loyal Legions where caught and executed to the last man...

...All except one.

Lord Valarion, named Dreadlord (for his ruthless efficiency on the battlefield) by his enemies, judged the Imperial core as lost and thus decided to follow emergency protocoll and head north, using stealth and speed. To slow down any possible pursuit the Dreadlord ordered every city, town, village and hamlet in his way torched. Thus dealing a mortal blow to tribe of MAD standing in between him and the venerated immortal Emperor Roxbury.

Despite the heroic efforts of Valarion and his knights, the enemy slowly gained ground, slowly closed the gap between refugees and executioners, thereby forcing the commander to the most desperate acts. A Heroic last stand at the town of Poetic Justice. Mages, soldiers, slaves and camp followers alike worked relentlessly to fortify every inch of the tiny town to withstand the onslaught of enemies for as long as possible.Tales tell that if Bastille was a massacre, then Poetic Justice was genocide. Armies of gargantuan strength assaulted this last stronghold of Legacy, determined to rid the world of all that is good and just once and for all.

Inspired by the grand general and his desperate forces natives, intimidated by the wrath of the southern lords soon flocked to Valarion. Militias formed, old mine shafts opened after generations of disuse, entire forests where cut down to construct pallisades and siege engines. Victory or Death, became the the phrase these noble people lived by.

and on they came...

(to be continued)

Nice one!

Unexpected Allies

(seloc, dont ruin my story)

When it became clear that the mighty walls of Poetic Justice would not be conquered, the assaulting forces started to turn their camps into more permanent settlements, effectively cutting off any route south. Valarions remainig followers did much the same with pressure on their fortress now minimal.

In a lush valley just north of the mighty wall the refugees found ruins of abandoned cities around a great lake now known as Justiciar Lake. Nobody knows why the citizens left, but heaps of bones and other signs of struggle suggested a devastating civil war. In the following years great efforts where made to restore these abandoned towns as all communication with the other  wave of Legacian refugees had ceased.

Time went on, as it usually does and the once small border fortress, with no hopes of surviving the onslaught of its countless foes, grew into a thriving nation, its border expanding ever northward. Until one day...

A young Page came running into the council chamber at double speed, spitting out a report so fast none of the attendants could decypher more than a few words.

"Mīlord, Mīlord!!! ......Massive....the north....white flag...." At wich point the poor buy collapsed into a heap.

Valarion let out a sigh; "Somebody get the lad to his chamber and make sure somebody looks after him. General Gaius, sound the alarm, I want the Liberator Legion, the Justiciar Legion and the Imperial Cadre ready to act as soon as we learn this armies intentions. Also Inform the Dreadguard, full battle gear, we ride within one bell."

News travelled fast and by the time Valarion entered his chambers the alarm was spreading from town to town, enormous war horns sounding general alarm.

"By the Emperor, may these strangers come in peace." He thought to himself as he, for what seemed to be the thousandth time, donned his armor - Midnight. Two pages struggled with his mighty hammer, known only as The Herald for to this day Valarions forces had never suffered defeat with their Lord personally commited to battle.

Within the bell Valarions and his retinue rode. Column after column of grim black armored knights, the blue standards of Legacy flying proud. Hearing this tale, some might judge the dreadlord foolish, or arrogant for riding to meet an unknown army with only his bodyguard, but be assured these soldiers where far from ordinary. Hand picked at young age by Imperial High Mages for their arcane abilities and trained by the emperors finest in all martial arts each of these hardened veterans was more than a match for any small group of foes, together the three hundred could stop entire armies in their tracks.

So it came to pass, that on the eve of the 210th day in the 15th years of the exodus, Valarion made contact with the Order of Heavens Vengeance and their Matriarch, Lady Erica (also called Jabberwooky for unknown reasons). What was said during that first meeting on the great plains north of Justiciar Lake, is unknown. Members of the Dreadguard later relayed that apparently HV had observed Valarion since he first appeared and judged his cause worthy, rallying massive forces to prevent the Dreadlords thriving nation from being flanked from the west and north. It was understood that The Order had made contact with Zeonic forces in the time before the Legacian refugees and and saw a common cause in keeping those heathens and their foul allies at bay. Thus a firm alliance was formed and soon mile long supply trains started flowing south to Poetic Justice, led by High Avenger Seloc. With him Seloc brought news of small bands of Zeonic skirmishers hiding in the mountains...but that is another story, for another time.

And the siege went on...

(to be continued)

Incredible ... Guess I might review my opinion about the best RP over here :-)

Reunification

Years went by with relatively little bloodshed at Poetic Justice, even though the besiegers camps long since had turned into permanent cities. With the aid of Lady Erica and her allies the young Valyrian nation thrived and became a power to reckon with in the area. With the immediate threat contained Valarion could turn his attention to the north, where Erica reported other Legacian refugees had ventured. He sent his most reliable men out to search for clues on what may have happened to his lost brethren. The first of scouts was Myh Tam Ponhg Weirdgrivi, sadly he barely made it out of Valyria before falling to an angry Mongoose. After this tragical incident larger groups where sent out to brave the dangers of the land and, if possible, thank the Mongoose. The track to the north proved to be a difficult one, despite Lady Ericas hospitality in various inns and estates on the way. The most dire threat proved to be a hostile merchant consortium, The Merchants of Death. Lead by an ambitious merchant called Goldmeister, these knaves systematically terrorized the region by various nefarious means. Though in restrospect it must be said, that had a band of the consortium not ambushed Valarions scouts, they may have never found their lost brothers. Helmuth Von Moltke an old, but toothless, friend of Valarion was leading a band of dwarfs in search for minerals in the area when they came upon the sound of battle. Battle being the next best thing for a dwarf after Ale and bearded woman, they moved closer to investigate. Helmuth stood, mouth unfortunately wide, and gaped as he recognised Valarions coat of arms but after just a moent of hestitation charged to the besieged Valyrians aid. The Consortiums band soon realized they where no match for the combined force and quickly withdrew, leaving their wounded to Legacies mercy.

The surviving scouts where brought to the Emperors new Citadel, Shinigami and questioned. The tale they told was one heroic sacrifices and turmoil. Great was the relief throughout the Empire as news of Valarions survival and heroic efforts spread and plans where made to aid their comrade against the southern scum. Within days Moltke had gathered his toothless clan of dwarfs and was preparing to march south, the Emperor dispatched his personal Cadre to lend aid with vicious sorcerous attacks and Sir Frederick, an old companion summoned a great warband from his tribe of trolls. Soon rank upon rank of Legacian soldiers, all sons and grandsons of those lost at the beginning of the Exodus, marched south blue banners flying proud.

Woe the enemy standing in their path, for there shall be no mercy!

(tbc)

to be continued :)

hurry up with the tbc...tuberculosis anyone!? :P

(at the same time in the south)

A tale lost in Antiquity

The Wheel of time turns, eras come and eras pass. Legendary heros are born, fade into myth and are forgotten...

...unless

He had lost count. He only knew it was the day of his second birth, but as first years then millenia passed his age lost meaning. He still looked around the same age he was when it happened, about twenty. Concentrating hard he tried to remember his life before that fatefull war with Prince Sezymon, before the hiding and most of all...before HIM.

"My Prince, you have to leave, NOW! If you are taken as well, all hope for our nation is lost."

"There is nothing left to hope for Caramis. This Estate is all that remains of Valyria. I have lost contact with the entire Cadre, which means that the Capital and my family have been captured. Knowing this enemy, capture means certain death, or worse."

"The if you will not fight for hope, fight for revenge! As long as our enemies still draw breath, there will never be peace in this world, mīlord."

Prince Valarion turned at this, glaring at his companion with steel grey eyes, framed by long silver hair. Many elven maids had been attracted to the young Princes regal beauty, but Valarion seemed not the least bit interested. Granted while fighting for ones survival desires of the flesh where not exactly on top

"You are right of course, my friend. But where would we run? Our allies have fallen with us and any potential shelter I could imagine lies behind enemy lines, across the great sea. Unless....the monastary Caramis?

"Yes Mīlord, the order of Dawn is our last hope. The foul creatures besieging our lands will not approach it, no matter their masters commands. There we will be safe until we can devise a plan to bring down the Dark One and his minions."

...

Caramis, after all these years he still mourned his mentor, occasionally. Or did he? It had been so very long since he last felt anything that it was hard to tell. Had he loved? Hated? The Dreadlord was not sure, the concepts baffled him. Caramis had been the last of his old comrades to fall on that fatefull day all these years ago. On that fatefull day at the Monastary of Dawn.

They where worried for him, he could sense it yet had no explanation as to why. After all they where the ones that set him upon this path, this path of revenge. They where the ones who had urged him to delve deeper into the arcane arts, to search for a way to destroy the foul creature that had brought their nation to ruin. Jealous, the whole incompetent lot of them, thought Valarion as he marched deeper down into the Monastary Catacombs. Down to the forbidden archives and the dark books they contained. Gaining entrance had not been easy, the High Cleric being strickly against any attempt to use the books to further their goals. In the end Valarion had been forced to compell the old fool with magic. He would NOT be stopped! Ignoring shelf after shelf of Necromantic tomes, Valarion strode to the deepest chamber of the catacombs. He had to admit that the wards the monks had constructed around the book contained in this particular vault where impressive and likely would keep a god out. That is, unless that god had the key now hanging around the Princes neck.

The Book was a great black tome of unknown origin. Whoever had created the foul thing had been a grand master of the black arts. It contained the secret of chaotic powers, Demonology and Necromancy, all written in the same regal style. Shadows swirled around the book as if its content alone was enough to draw fell energies. As Valarion stepped closer to the book to examine it, it seemed almost as if it was reaching for him, shadowy tentacles waving frantically in his direction, urging him to take that last step.

"Go ahead, young one, touch it" A ghostly voice whispered.

Valarion froze and lashed out with a bright bolt of energy in the voices general direction only to see it wink out, not a foot from his position.

"Now now dear, that wasnt very polite! Here I had believed you elves to be courteous beings." With a mocking ring to its voice the being added. "Please young Prince, before you gather your unfathomable powers and annihilate me utterly, let me introduce myself. My name is...

It would be only the first amongst many such encounters while he studied the book and its secrets. That Voice became his mentor, it guided him down the paths of Necromancy, helped him open the gates to the Abyss and showed him how to control the chaotic energies it contained. Thinking back Valarion knew that he had lost his soul then and there. His master had only confirmed his claim the day the monastary fell, the day he was marked.

It was done, finally done! He had learned it all, every paragraph, every footnote. The secrets of the Dark Oneīs three paths of magic where his to command and noone would stand before him now. Only one detail remained, the book and its ghostly inhabitant would have to be destroyed. Valarion thought as he stood over the relic. Gathering all the chaotic power he could muster he focused on it and released. A blinding flash. Valarion screamed. His ghostly mentor laughed.

"Really my young pupil, your manners do not seem to have improved much since our first encounter. I had believed me teaching you my secrets would instill, if not fear then atleast some respect in you you insolent pup. No matter dear, it will take just a moment to reign you in."

With that, the books shadow tentacles started growing, changing shape. As they reached Valarion, they where no longer formless shadows, but chains. They slithered softly across his incapacitated form, until they covered him from head to toe giving the scene the look o*beep*iant cocoon hanging by black threads.

"With this, I bind you Valarion" The Voice uttered a few arcane words on which the black chains grew translucent and began sinking into the princes body. Valarion could only watch in horror, unable to even scream in agony as he felt a fell entity take hold of his soul.

"And with this, my dear, I mark you" The voice said as it took form and slowly walked behind the limp form of Valarion, still suspended in mid air by a shadow chain. The stranger was almost gentle as he tore of Valarions shirt and ran two cold fingers along the base of his neck. "You know now, dont you? You know who I am." The figure chuckled right before sinking its teeth in the princes neck.

Valarion woke with a start. After all these millenia he still couldnt bare to think about what had happened after that. It was as if a tiny shred of decency still desperately clung to his soul, refusing to elt him give in to his destructive impulses. He sighed and muttered. "No master, I have not forgotten you. I have no doubt this little vision of the past was sent by you to remind me that I am still the pupil, after all these years. So where ever you are, you old bastard, rest assured."

(to be continued)

(ooc)

To my friend and "master". You know who you are. <3

I was not myself involved in much fighting against ZEON, so I am afraif there wont be much mention of you guys. But I guess time will show;)

*Septim marches in with a million SPAM soldiers armed with SPAM assault rifles and SPAM artillery pieces.

"FIRE!!!"

*Septim's army slaughters Valar's Army!

yes i mind!!!!

that armies gone :D

Why don't you write a tragedy about the events this era, Valarion? 

I miss stories like these...