[The Chronicles of War:]
|
The vast armies of Mytos K'unn, marshalled by a sorceress of great power
|
known as Zyrashana the Witch-Queen, had been cutting a swath through the
|
Eastern Kingdoms since high summer the preceding year. Empowering her troops
|
with great sorceries, she had s een all opposition fall before the ravening
|
swords of her forces since the first bloody campaign; the invasion of the
|
ancient and noble realm of Delania. The aftermath of the final battle had seen
|
the systematic slaughter of the Delanian royal family, an d the torture and
|
execution of all those who had been loyal to their banner. During the ensuing
|
months, more kingdoms and satrapies toppled before the might of Zyrashana's
|
legions, commanded by the fearsome and unswervingly loyal battle-lord Talus
|
Ebonfy re, a man of sublime brutality whom many beleived to be possessed by a
|
demon-spirit from the dark realms. Emboldened by their victories and the
|
expansion of their queen's dark dominion, the hordes of Mytos K'unn began the
|
incursion into the lands of the Northern Tribes, beginning with the grim and
|
brooding territories south of the Snow Kingdoms... the rugged homelands of the
|
warlike clans which had been recently united into a strong realm by the
|
powerful warrior-king Caylen-Tor, a man known to his allie s and enemies alike
|
as the Wolf of the North. Thinking the barbaric tribesmen little threat, the
|
Witch-Queen intends a largely unopposed march throught their lands to strike
|
at the wealthy and fertile realms beyond the Mountain Kingdoms to the west...
|
bu t Caylen-Tor has vowed that a searing torrent of blood and steel shall meet
|
all those who deign to enter unwelcome or drive their standard unbidden into
|
his land... As grim winter slowly yields to spring, the armies of Mytos K'unn
|
begin their march northwards, and news of the advance of the Witch-Queen's
|
forces into Blackhelm Vale, the valley known for centuries as the Gate to the
|
Northlands, soon reaches the highla nd stronghold of Caylen-Tor. Grimly taking
|
up his sword and spear and donning the woad of war, he vows that Zyrashana
|
shall pay in blood for every league she has dared venture in his sacred lands.
|
Scouts soon return with the information that the enemy is camped at the base
|
of the valley, preparing to march with th dawn. The court shamans forsee
|
rivers of blood and untold carnage, and great battlespells are woven as
|
Caylen-Tor leads his vastly outnumbered Northlander warriors to the misty,
|
moon-swathed e xpanse that is Blackhelm Vale. Legends say that the blood of
|
many kings has been spilled on the dark earth of the valley over the
|
generations, and Caylen-Tor promises to his grim gods that the earth will once
|
again drink deep this night. With his army si lent and brooding beneath the
|
moon, he knows that whatever the outcome, this night shall see a legend of war
|
written in blood and the deaths of men... a legend none shall soon forget...
|
|
[The War Testament of Caylen-Tor (On the Night of the Bloodying of Swords):]
|
O' grim gods of battle, empower us this night...
|
Anoint us with the crimson rain, feed our steel with slaughter...
|
Let every blow be a killing blow, grant us victory, or a warrior's death.
|
Come, moon-fogs, Descend to cloak our numbers, the heady scent of battle
|
beckons,
|
My ash-hafted spear feels good in my hands, girt 'round with spells (our flesh
|
gloriously) woad anointed,
|
Ravens awaiting slaughter soar high above, blood-worms bloat on red carnage,
|
I'll carve the moon-wheel in their flesh, as havoc churns the heather!
|
|
A swirling mantle of mist-magic swathes us, powerful spells woven by the
|
fen-witches of the great mere... Deep night and moon-mist shall be our allies
|
as we surge into the fray! At my bidding, the fog clears for a brief moment,
|
and I gaze down upon the v alley to behold the army of the Witch-Queen...
|
great tents arrayed upon the heather, powerful steeds tethered, the light from
|
| countless burning brands i |
