((OOC: All the following information may be taken INC. As you wake and begin your preparations to continue your travel to the forward encampments, a now familiar piece of paper finds its way into your hands.)) Once again coming to you from the front lines, I am Marius ihk Drax, Herald and Record Keeper. I have been tasked to chronicle and to bear witness...and thus, I shall. A new day has dawned here in the encampments of the War effort. There is hope that with new fortifications completed, we can resist the ever present hordes of undead. Even when pushed to the breaking point, our soldiers and allies fight on. Even when forced with fighting the mangled bodies of their fallen friends, they fight on. Even when pushed past the point of exhaustion, the have yet to give up the fight. Our mages continue to bolster when and where they can, but the mana depletion has proved to be another enemy all its own. With little or no time to meditate safely, our auxiliary rotates their forward positions. Pitted against the master of Void in the employ of Kellas, they are still a force to be reckoned with, even in small numbers. A strange mist has overtaken the camp, even during this bright day. It chills to the very core and leaves a person feeling unsettled. This feeling was enough to bring forth the leaders from their Council. The Tyr Imprae and Duke, armored bodies shining in contrast from the bright sun, emerged and almost immediately from the mist, a group of finely dressed Gurnei appeared. After hushed whispers and greetings were exchanged, a box was passed over and nods of wary thanks returned. And almost as quickly as the mist had overtaken us, it had dissipated and the Gurnei with it. With unreadable expressions, the two impossibly tall men returned to the Council tent. What this ominous exchange means for our battles to come, nothing but rumor can speak to it. The area around us is beginning to see the change wrought by the brave citizens of the Oasis, vibrant life struggling to make its presence known even as death attempts to overrun it. A blue light can be seen flitting about, a strange, snarky voice greeting you should it pass you by. This light seems to leave behind a flurry of verdant activity in its wake and I can only hope that mayhap it can ease the pain and suffering within the Mad City of Kellas. The agents of the one being commonly referred to as the Corrupter have begun their attacks upon us as well. Poison and disease have threatened to spread throughout the camp while alchemical attacks and constructs hound the battlefield. The damage this man and his creations have wrought is raising by the watch. But upon the wind, along with the stench of rotten flesh, a band of warriors from the mountains come, running as if they were the wind themselves. With glowing eyes and delicately pointed ears, the warriors of the Enclave of the White Blossom, led by one called simply Song of the Morning Sun, have done all they can to drive back this corruption. True to their melodic names, these warriors embody all that is beautiful and artistic about combat, creating a symphony of attacks and devastation to their enemies. It is becoming more difficult to measure the state of the conflict. Even with continued reinforcements, Kellas forces are constantly replenished with our own fallen. Soldiers have been known to go mad from the constant droning of the Call emanating from the city. Here, it is not enough to simply not be Semtey or Sunder. The wails of the dying and dead are joined constantly by a bass rumbling emanating from deep within the mountain fortress, punctuated by the high tones of ringing metal. It has become a war of attrition, but whos side will benefit from it the most? This has been Marius from the Front Lines. May the Shadows continue their watch over us all.
Posted on: Fri, 30 May 2014 02:33:21 +0000
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