Plunder the Bitingsea
With predatory instincts and a complete disregard for the suffering of others, those led by Targug the Cleaver, Lord Haddrik Carminnio, or Khrovar Blackmaw have been roaming the ravaged lands, perpetuating terror among those already battered by the ravages of war. They prowled the abandoned towns, ransacking whatever remnants of hope remained, and brazenly targeted the desperate refugees who sought solace from the relentless devastation that engulfed Rondhol.
But they weren’t the only ones. One such piratical leader was the one and only Krawk Swampboss of Da Plunderaz, who had proven his prowess by cunningly ambushing his enemies, swiftly overpowering them, and vanishing into the murky depths of the fog. With his captives in tow, Krawk sought to settle the debts owed to the Snatcha Bosses, using the prisoners as valuable currency in this increasingly bloody environment.
Fortifying Positions
Khardihr, like all cities that have developed past their Dawnbringer beginnings existed to see mortals thrive in the realms. They sought to drive those forces that would see the destruction of order from the lands of Rondhol. Khardhir failed.
As the city lay helpless on the earth of Rondhol, it was the assassins of Asarathu who started the chaos that eventually led to the downfall of the city. The assassins, though few in number, successfully made their way through the city in search of the Council members who had, so far, been largely useless to the rest of the city. The followers of Asarathu took them down one by one, causing panic in the middle of the night, lighting fires, and destroying defensive mechanisms as they made their way through the upper echelons of the council buildings. Though successful in taking out the council members, if Asarathu had sought to take the city, the force ultimately failed – as yet another enemy took on the beleaguered city.
As the fires of dawn started to drown out the light emitted by the burning city, the Brashbriar Brood entered the fray. Driven by their ever-present connection to the land, the Brood entered the city with a single-mindedness that rivaled that of their past Orruk allies – they tore into brick and flesh alike, ignoring the screams of the citizens who perished beneath branch and root. With their leaders all but slain, their armies spread thin around the continent, and their city defenseless on a land that despised it, the Khardhirians fled. By the time Hysh dropped below the ravenous horizon, the Brashbriar Brood had killed or driven off the inhabitants of the city to a man.
Throughout the night, the burning buildings persisted, casting a flickering light that illuminated the motionless Sylvaneth. From their airships, a portion of the escaped citizenry gazed down upon their fallen home. In that haunting spectacle, they beheld the genesis of a new forest, born of blood, flesh, and the annihilation of hope.
The Siege of the Voidfang
In the heart of this dark tapestry of violence and despair, a final confrontation had also unfolded. The Voidfang, a megafauna brought under control by the enigmatic Fae, had trailed destruction in its wake as it plowed through the forest – that was until it was finally confronted by a truly diverse group brought together, tentatively, by their shared hatred of the Fae.
Embracing the immense power of the Shifting Monolith, the Procession, guided by the Archprophetess and the Templars of Our Burning Saviour, a formidable army of daemons and mortal warriors was sent against the Voidbeast. But they weren’t alone – a coalition of sorts had been brought to bare against the Fae, all of whom played their part in the assault. The individual tales of this battle would live long in the minds of those that participated, and while the weeks afterward would turn simple victories into the stuff of legend, some held more truth than others.
Razgor Beastbreaka, the leader of Da Realmhuntaz, was rumored to have not only survived the battle against the Voidfang but also emerged as the possessor of an immensely powerful trophy that had catapulted his fame to new heights. Deep within the temple structure, he had discovered and triumphantly emerged clutching aloft a crystal of immense size, his hands stained with blood. Adorning his gruesome trophy were the not-insignificant number of Fae skulls, serving as a testament to the ferocity and brutality with which he had fought. The true nature and capabilities of this extraordinary crystal had remained known only to Da Realmhuntaz, perhaps solely to Razgor himself. Nevertheless, whispers and tales had already begun to spread like wildfire throughout the land of Rondhol. Some said that the spirits of the dead Fae, whose skulls were now worn by Razgor’s closest fighters, had been trapped within the crystal. Others claimed that Razgor himself was actually inside, a Fae survivor having taken over Razgor’s body. Still, others claimed the crystal to be Fae-magic-infused Amber Blood, providing him ultimate control over the beasts within his warclan.
While many of Asarathu’s assassins ultimately perished in Khardhir, the skilled warrior and bringer of death had nonetheless emerged victorious in the battle of Voidfang. Having stealthily infiltrated the heart of the Fae stronghold, it was Asarathu who had engaged in a deadly dance of hand-to-hand combat with the leader of the Fae—a formidable adversary who had long orchestrated Rondhol’s descent into darkness. With all of his warriors slain amidst a sea of dead Knights of the Chalice, Asarathu dealt the final blow, putting an end to the Fae leader’s reign of terror and severing their head from their body. After departing from the battlefield, clutching trophies in hand, Asarathu has not been sighted since.
In a stunning display of coordinated might, it was the fearsome forces led by Dethmuttera and Urgoth’s orruks, accompanied by Gaston de Heulierplaine and his loyal Gouls-at-arms, that had been the ones to lay waste to the delicate anti-gravity machinery that held the temple aloft.
As the final blows fell upon the intricate contraptions, severing the arcane chains that bound the colossal temple to the heavens, a symphony of snapping cables and crumbling gears had filled the air. The weightlessness that had held the temple in suspension was abruptly shattered, and the once-mighty structure had slid of the side of the megafauna, crashing into the jungle below. It was this fall that had shattered many of the smaller chalices that the Fae had procured, many of which exploded in arcane power – enveloping both flora and fauna in a mist of amber blood that would eventually seep back into the continental crust.
With the Voidfang free of the temple fortress, the Fae leadership shattered, and the Knights of the Chalice on the retreat, it was the Monolith that eventually confirmed the defeat of the Fae. The enigmatic artefact, once lost amidst the depths of Furyoth Dell, had steadily drawn closer to the Fae’s sacred temple fortress. Infused with the chaotic energies and now tainted by the insidious touch of the Fae themselves, it was anyone’s guess as to who truly desired the monolith to come into contact with the Grand Chalice. That said, when contact was made, it was a sight to behold. The temple roof above the Grand Chalice had been shattered when the temple fell to the ground, and with only a small force still defending it, the Monolith had easily settled above the Chalice – arcane energies had arched between the two artefacts, disintegrating the temple further and turning flesh into stone. Soon, the Chalice began to fold into itself, and with a crash that rent the storm clouds above as well as opened up a massive visure in the earth, both disappeared in an arcane flash. With that, the remaining Fae, few as they were, fled – leaving the Knights of the Chalice alone to fight their impossible battle in the face of a force many times their number.
By the time the Rondhol’s jaws began to recede, anyone left in Civilia’s Ruin would have been able to look across the churning Bitingsea and seen The Svlind in the distance. The entire coastlines had been forever altered by the awakening, but with the vast majority of the Amber Blood returned to the land via the Chalice, Rondhol, yet again, began to calm. Even now, it’s clear that the jaws will begin to recede.
The fortress temple of the Fae has disappeared without a trace, whatever magic that had held the structure within the realms fled with the disappearing creatures. The Voidfang itself survived, though now slumbers a number of kilometers away from where the great battle occured.
The city of Khardhir has completely fallen to the land. It is now nothing more than a ruin, covered in flora, the forest has taken to the city with a vengeance. Civilia’s Ruin remains flooded and Sorah Nikos’ whereabouts remain an enigma, but those that took advantage of the situation – the likes of Blackmaw and Carminnio – still sail the Bitingsea.
Rondhol may sleep yet again, the denizens of the land having removed this particular threat, but w̸̝̤͔͇̻͔̆̈́̄̽͌̇́̈́͂̊̎̈́̚͘͠ë̶̦͔͈̯̣́̒̒̉̆͂̋̌̈̇̐̈̚̚͜͝ ̸̨̺̈́̈́̎̀͑͆͂̏̄̿͗͌̆͝ẉ̴̫̜̦͔̤͖̿̈͋́͠í̶̢̢͈̥͓͓̗̤̟̰͈͇͕̙l̴͈̟̅͋̀͊̚͝ḷ̷̡̱̦͇͖͇̮͔͇̩̦͈͖͛͆̏̓̀̈́̓̋̏́͛̈́͠ ̵̰̣̘̝̰̗̜͈̰̙͈̝̩̜̎͆̃̆̈́̐͗̚̚ḅ̵͚͚̲̻̙̘͓̭̩͇̔͌̌̌̕̕ẻ̴͓̤̭̹̥̮͍̿͗̌̌͛ ̸̡̖͓̥̻̭̘̥̪̫̦̥̆͊̾̓͋͂ḃ̵̧̨̻̻̤͈̗̦̄́̅̂̔͛̈́͌͘͝͠͝ͅa̴̧̨̡͍̰̞̠̥̤̙͇̒̓ḉ̸̩̯͙̫̰̣̐̾͂͂̃̂͝k̵̙̣̫̆́͋́͗͋̓͜
