Kakoon
01-29-2017, 10:14 PM
Cross post from the officials:
Lord Legionnaire Commander Cyik,
War. War has come to the Elven Nations. I fear our time of peace has come to an end. The last couple weeks both Ta'Vaalor and Ta'Illistim have come under attack by an intelligent and organized force. Sir, this voice continues to taunt us on the wind. It speaks of revenge, of hate and betrayal. Worst yet, it speaks of the demons as its children, as its babies. Repeated attacks of Vathor, Abyran'an, and Oculoth have taken us to the edge of our resolve and back, yet we continue to hold the line. With the constant taunting on the wind, threats of revenge, demon attacks, I can't help but be reminded of the entity that identified itself as Vengeance a few months back. The same entity that had brought the Voln-Dai to the Fortress. Attempts have been made to speak with Brother Monk about the recent attacks in hope that perhaps he has found some new information.
Sir, I'm making a number of assumptions and conjectures with the theory that this is Vengeance again. After its last attack those months ago it seemed... lacking. There was no finality, it just vanished. Perhaps it was gathering strength for these new round of assaults, to build an army to bring war to our doorsteps.
Each attack has been proceeded by the smell of death on the wind. We can always smell them long before the horde makes an appearance. In some of these earlier attacks a howl can be heard crying out in the distance, their dogs of war. A rather pathetic pack of mangy mutts that bring with them lesser ghouls and skeletons. The Shadowy Spectral Canine are probably used to coral and drive the inhabitants of the Cemetery towards our gates. Even Ghoul Masters along Virktoth's Path were pushed forward as fodder. Fodder they were, each wave charging headlong into a rain of arrows from the walls, to crash and break on our shield wall. It wasn't long before the voice started sending its own forces to break our line. It started as a low rumble at first, barely audible over the clash of metal on metal. We felt it in our boots next, the hordes of undead never slowing in their attacks, as if they knew and wanted what was coming. The earth cracked and broke as Massive Crimson Deathworms came burrowing up from beneath us. We were caught flat footed, we lost a number of defenders in their first attack. Our line wavered as our backs were pushed against the gate, the defenders in Vermilion Tower had no choice but to shoot down on us to keep the gate from breaching.
Sir, the commission of the signal towers by both King Qalinor and the Argent Mirror Myasara have been one of the greatest additions for our defences. Defenders from Ta'Illistim arrived just in time to reinforce the lines. Vermilion held firm and pushed them back as the line advanced across the bridge towards Timmorain Road. Annatto Gate began to get assaulted by Rotting Hags, Spectral Warhorses, more Deathworms and creatures of rotting, grotesque horror. Annatto's numbers began to fall as Vermilion pushed forward off the bridge. It was the gully Sir. We watched as half their lines kept breaking off and cutting through Neartofar to attack Annatto, we had to take the gully. Vermilion fought on, cutting a path through the undead horde. As we reached the gully, we saw the beacon from Ta'Illistim light up, the undead were attacking on two major fronts. The defenders from the Shining City quickly rallied and returned to their homes to defend it. Undead don't normally organize like this Sir, they knew exactly what we were trying to do and divided our forces. They cut our numbers in half and all the while the whispered words "How easily your cousins have abandoned you. How quickly they've stabbed your house in the back..." could be heard on the wind. Our numbers gone, moral low, it looked bad for us Sir. It got much worse when it started sending the things of nightmares.
Fear can do terrible things Sir. I remember stories as a child of the horrors that called Old Ta'Faendryl their home. Bed time stories meant to keep children in line, behave or the Ithzir will get you. When I joined the Legion I knew one day I would be assigned a patrol through the Old City. By then I had learned about the barrier protecting us from those horrors. I had lost my fear from when I was a child and am proud to say I've even lead Bandons on patrol through the Old City. I would be reminded very suddenly of that childhood fear.
We held the gully as the defenders at Annatto regrouped and pressed their advantage. With no new forces coming from Neartofar the undead were soon cleared from Annatto Bridge and Neartofar Road. By this time the rotting corpses had stacked up in the gully, we were no longer fighting with an advantage of terrain. Vermilion was fighting on even ground as the bodies piled, we held firm until we heard that Annatto was clear and guarded. We saw the shadows across the moon at first, birdlike silhouettes covering us in darkness. As we were looking up, we never saw the fresh wave of hell the undead had brought to bare. Constructs crashed through and broke our lines as Ithzir Seers and Adepts cast unspeakable magics. Fear gripped our hearts as a familiar screech sounded over the din of battle, a screech that is normally only heard within the protective barrier. War Griffins dove from out of the sky, their beaks and talons ripping the throats from so many. We warned of the new threat and began an organized retreat, back under the protection of Vermilion Tower. Again I was baffled by the organization of the undead, they pressed their advantage and sent the unimaginable. Fire errupted across the battlefield and death stepped from the flames.
Death brings peace, quiet, even a sweet release. No more orders being shouted through thoughts in my head, no more cries of the dying. Only the silence of the dead. From the flames stepped a Vathor. It was yards away yet I felt the heat from flames encircling its body. Its wolf-like snout bared its teeth, showing lines of jagged teeth, in some form of smirk. Two massive bat like wings stretched from the Vathor's back as it lept into the air, we watched in horror as it landed behind us, blocking our retreat. I have never fought with braver men or women. We charged the demon as Ithzir and constructs surrounded us. We fought back to back, sword cleaving bone, arrows striking vital organs, spells melting flesh. We fought until the last one, we fought until our weapons became quiet. We fought until we were given that sweet release and found what we had hoped, peace.
Next I knew I was in the Hall of the Arkati with shouts of orders in my head as defenders organized to contain the breach. Triage had been moved inside the Hall of the Arkati when Deathworms burrowed up under King's Court. We fought for our lives, for our homes. Our efforts doubled as we realized that this could be the end. We pushed them back to the gates and that's where we held them. A stalemate of forces, neither side giving ground. For hours we fought shoulder to shoulder inside the arch of the gateways. A storm had blown in, rain pouring from the skies as our feet trampled the dirt to hazardous mud. No matter how much fire poured from the Drake, the undead scourge seemed endless. For every one we killed, two more were there. We knew we couldn't hold out forever. A very cold shiver ran down my spine as a warhorn was sounded in the night.
Hope is the light that casts away the darkness in our lives. In that hour, when the darkness of night stretched on endlessly, hope was but a dwindling spark. I had steeled myself and accepted my fate, Lorminstra would see me through the Ebon Gates. We fought on, when one of ours fell our lines along the archway began to shrink. We heard the warhorn again, this time much closer and no longer echoing off the pass. Sir, the warhorn was coming from behind us, from the west. The beacon from Ta'Illistim had gone out without us realizing. With that extinguished flame came an odd renewed sense of hope, we had our reinforcements. Our spark ignited with fury as Vermilion Gate was soon taken back by defenders from not only Ta'Illistim but west of the Dragon Spine as well. Defenders from across Elanthia had heard of the demons attacking and had come to test their metal.
Test it they did, demons continued to ravage the front lines. Floating black orbs covered in eyes, tossed defenders across the battlefield with inky tendrils, spitting some nightmare inducing venom. Large Humanoid snakes slithered across the field, their hair striking out at unsuspecting victims. Poison making faces quickly turn pale as their lungs ceased to provide oxygen. There in the center was that same demon that had slaughtered us so easily before, fire pouring off its skin. We attacked with ten fold the numbers. The orbs turned to pin cushions as arrows pierced every eye, hissing silenced as heads removed and spiked by sword and spear. As the sun broke the horizon, the burning flames were finally extinguished by holy magic, hope had returned to Ta'Vaalor.
We didn't have long to celebrate. A cold wind blew, carrying a raspy voice crackling the air with energy, "I have withdrawn my forces. Gather your dead and surrender to me that you might live. Refuse and every last one of you will die." I do not know if a similar ultimatum has been presented to our cousins accross the lake but I can promise you this Sir, the Crimson Legion Reserves will die to the last elf before surrender.
For Honor, Pride and Glory,
High Legionnaire Kakoon Arakhor
Original Post:
http://forums.play.net/forums/GemStone%20IV/Towns/Ta'Vaalor/view/3415
Lord Legionnaire Commander Cyik,
War. War has come to the Elven Nations. I fear our time of peace has come to an end. The last couple weeks both Ta'Vaalor and Ta'Illistim have come under attack by an intelligent and organized force. Sir, this voice continues to taunt us on the wind. It speaks of revenge, of hate and betrayal. Worst yet, it speaks of the demons as its children, as its babies. Repeated attacks of Vathor, Abyran'an, and Oculoth have taken us to the edge of our resolve and back, yet we continue to hold the line. With the constant taunting on the wind, threats of revenge, demon attacks, I can't help but be reminded of the entity that identified itself as Vengeance a few months back. The same entity that had brought the Voln-Dai to the Fortress. Attempts have been made to speak with Brother Monk about the recent attacks in hope that perhaps he has found some new information.
Sir, I'm making a number of assumptions and conjectures with the theory that this is Vengeance again. After its last attack those months ago it seemed... lacking. There was no finality, it just vanished. Perhaps it was gathering strength for these new round of assaults, to build an army to bring war to our doorsteps.
Each attack has been proceeded by the smell of death on the wind. We can always smell them long before the horde makes an appearance. In some of these earlier attacks a howl can be heard crying out in the distance, their dogs of war. A rather pathetic pack of mangy mutts that bring with them lesser ghouls and skeletons. The Shadowy Spectral Canine are probably used to coral and drive the inhabitants of the Cemetery towards our gates. Even Ghoul Masters along Virktoth's Path were pushed forward as fodder. Fodder they were, each wave charging headlong into a rain of arrows from the walls, to crash and break on our shield wall. It wasn't long before the voice started sending its own forces to break our line. It started as a low rumble at first, barely audible over the clash of metal on metal. We felt it in our boots next, the hordes of undead never slowing in their attacks, as if they knew and wanted what was coming. The earth cracked and broke as Massive Crimson Deathworms came burrowing up from beneath us. We were caught flat footed, we lost a number of defenders in their first attack. Our line wavered as our backs were pushed against the gate, the defenders in Vermilion Tower had no choice but to shoot down on us to keep the gate from breaching.
Sir, the commission of the signal towers by both King Qalinor and the Argent Mirror Myasara have been one of the greatest additions for our defences. Defenders from Ta'Illistim arrived just in time to reinforce the lines. Vermilion held firm and pushed them back as the line advanced across the bridge towards Timmorain Road. Annatto Gate began to get assaulted by Rotting Hags, Spectral Warhorses, more Deathworms and creatures of rotting, grotesque horror. Annatto's numbers began to fall as Vermilion pushed forward off the bridge. It was the gully Sir. We watched as half their lines kept breaking off and cutting through Neartofar to attack Annatto, we had to take the gully. Vermilion fought on, cutting a path through the undead horde. As we reached the gully, we saw the beacon from Ta'Illistim light up, the undead were attacking on two major fronts. The defenders from the Shining City quickly rallied and returned to their homes to defend it. Undead don't normally organize like this Sir, they knew exactly what we were trying to do and divided our forces. They cut our numbers in half and all the while the whispered words "How easily your cousins have abandoned you. How quickly they've stabbed your house in the back..." could be heard on the wind. Our numbers gone, moral low, it looked bad for us Sir. It got much worse when it started sending the things of nightmares.
Fear can do terrible things Sir. I remember stories as a child of the horrors that called Old Ta'Faendryl their home. Bed time stories meant to keep children in line, behave or the Ithzir will get you. When I joined the Legion I knew one day I would be assigned a patrol through the Old City. By then I had learned about the barrier protecting us from those horrors. I had lost my fear from when I was a child and am proud to say I've even lead Bandons on patrol through the Old City. I would be reminded very suddenly of that childhood fear.
We held the gully as the defenders at Annatto regrouped and pressed their advantage. With no new forces coming from Neartofar the undead were soon cleared from Annatto Bridge and Neartofar Road. By this time the rotting corpses had stacked up in the gully, we were no longer fighting with an advantage of terrain. Vermilion was fighting on even ground as the bodies piled, we held firm until we heard that Annatto was clear and guarded. We saw the shadows across the moon at first, birdlike silhouettes covering us in darkness. As we were looking up, we never saw the fresh wave of hell the undead had brought to bare. Constructs crashed through and broke our lines as Ithzir Seers and Adepts cast unspeakable magics. Fear gripped our hearts as a familiar screech sounded over the din of battle, a screech that is normally only heard within the protective barrier. War Griffins dove from out of the sky, their beaks and talons ripping the throats from so many. We warned of the new threat and began an organized retreat, back under the protection of Vermilion Tower. Again I was baffled by the organization of the undead, they pressed their advantage and sent the unimaginable. Fire errupted across the battlefield and death stepped from the flames.
Death brings peace, quiet, even a sweet release. No more orders being shouted through thoughts in my head, no more cries of the dying. Only the silence of the dead. From the flames stepped a Vathor. It was yards away yet I felt the heat from flames encircling its body. Its wolf-like snout bared its teeth, showing lines of jagged teeth, in some form of smirk. Two massive bat like wings stretched from the Vathor's back as it lept into the air, we watched in horror as it landed behind us, blocking our retreat. I have never fought with braver men or women. We charged the demon as Ithzir and constructs surrounded us. We fought back to back, sword cleaving bone, arrows striking vital organs, spells melting flesh. We fought until the last one, we fought until our weapons became quiet. We fought until we were given that sweet release and found what we had hoped, peace.
Next I knew I was in the Hall of the Arkati with shouts of orders in my head as defenders organized to contain the breach. Triage had been moved inside the Hall of the Arkati when Deathworms burrowed up under King's Court. We fought for our lives, for our homes. Our efforts doubled as we realized that this could be the end. We pushed them back to the gates and that's where we held them. A stalemate of forces, neither side giving ground. For hours we fought shoulder to shoulder inside the arch of the gateways. A storm had blown in, rain pouring from the skies as our feet trampled the dirt to hazardous mud. No matter how much fire poured from the Drake, the undead scourge seemed endless. For every one we killed, two more were there. We knew we couldn't hold out forever. A very cold shiver ran down my spine as a warhorn was sounded in the night.
Hope is the light that casts away the darkness in our lives. In that hour, when the darkness of night stretched on endlessly, hope was but a dwindling spark. I had steeled myself and accepted my fate, Lorminstra would see me through the Ebon Gates. We fought on, when one of ours fell our lines along the archway began to shrink. We heard the warhorn again, this time much closer and no longer echoing off the pass. Sir, the warhorn was coming from behind us, from the west. The beacon from Ta'Illistim had gone out without us realizing. With that extinguished flame came an odd renewed sense of hope, we had our reinforcements. Our spark ignited with fury as Vermilion Gate was soon taken back by defenders from not only Ta'Illistim but west of the Dragon Spine as well. Defenders from across Elanthia had heard of the demons attacking and had come to test their metal.
Test it they did, demons continued to ravage the front lines. Floating black orbs covered in eyes, tossed defenders across the battlefield with inky tendrils, spitting some nightmare inducing venom. Large Humanoid snakes slithered across the field, their hair striking out at unsuspecting victims. Poison making faces quickly turn pale as their lungs ceased to provide oxygen. There in the center was that same demon that had slaughtered us so easily before, fire pouring off its skin. We attacked with ten fold the numbers. The orbs turned to pin cushions as arrows pierced every eye, hissing silenced as heads removed and spiked by sword and spear. As the sun broke the horizon, the burning flames were finally extinguished by holy magic, hope had returned to Ta'Vaalor.
We didn't have long to celebrate. A cold wind blew, carrying a raspy voice crackling the air with energy, "I have withdrawn my forces. Gather your dead and surrender to me that you might live. Refuse and every last one of you will die." I do not know if a similar ultimatum has been presented to our cousins accross the lake but I can promise you this Sir, the Crimson Legion Reserves will die to the last elf before surrender.
For Honor, Pride and Glory,
High Legionnaire Kakoon Arakhor
Original Post:
http://forums.play.net/forums/GemStone%20IV/Towns/Ta'Vaalor/view/3415