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Prologue

The order had been given. The waiting finally over as the enormous host surged into motion. Rank upon rank of men and woman from every corner of the empire. Tall lithe elves, their motions fluid and gracefull marching with proud and noble human knights alongside ferocious trolls and orcs. Ahead a solid wall of dwarven axemen, bristling with weapons and surrounding the army halfling scouts almost invisible in the high grass around the imperial road.

The combined army of every Lord, Baron, Duke and Prince in the empire, marching off in asnwer to a grave threat. No, the threat. An ancient enemy stirred awake, seeking to devour and obliterate as it once had, long ago.

"A new age, a new war. It never ends, does it?" Valarion thought to himself. He was weary of the endless repetition, the cycles of civilisation. What one built up, another tore down. Again and again. Yet he could not, would not step away from his responsibility. After all, surrendering to his weariness would be as a death sentence for his people and those of the empire. Thus, he mused, we march out once more. In answer to yet another challange, another turn of the cycle...One builds, one tears down.

6 million men and woman marched that day. Marched in defense of their homes, their very lives to once again answer the challenge of Phi.

(tbc)

No, this is as story he tells....

*Septim storms in.

"Hello!"

*Septim storms out.

No.....