It is time for war. Time for blood. Time for slaughter. These foolish mortals may cower in terror, they may cringe at shadows and draw blades for any reason or none, but their banners still fly from the castle towers. They still hunt your servants. Now they shall learn what Canord did, what Avar did, what the Spears of Cavana did. Resistance is futile, useless, and earns them nothing but fear and pain.
The sun sets.
You raise a hand. Darkness flows from your palms like smoke from a fire. Thick and cloying, it slowly spreads forth in a great tide, drowning the castle in shadow.
The spearman marched along the wall, holding his weapon in one hand, his lantern in the other. Nervously, he scanned around him, all around him. Some of those bastards from the Carvers had been looking askance at him, even though he had been on duty when the lad had been murdered. And although people claimed whatever had been responsible for the massacre of the priests had been driven away, he swore he could still see something moving in the shadow when no one else was looking…”That’s odd…” He murmured, noticing his lantern wasn’t giving out as much light as usual. Maybe something was wrong with the oil. He squinted at it, before suddenly realizing how dark it had gotten. And how alone he was. Screams erupted throughout the castle, but he couldn’t see where they were coming from. He couldn’t see anything! The lantern barely provided enough light to see his hand in front of his face. He set his spear, putting his back to the castle wall and holding his weapon up, trying and failing to disguise his trembling. He heard the scuff of footsteps and a familiar voice. “Come, boy, whatever spell this is must be a prelude to attack.” He turned to the sound, felt something strike his head, and everything went black.
Within the keep, chaos reigns. The doors have been closed and barred, torches held everywhere to try and ward off the darkness. A few mage lights drive it back, and between all their efforts, there is just enough light to barely see. Something or someone is pounding at the door. It could be the soldiers who were out in the courtyard, or it could be the demon. Warriors and servants lay sobbing in terror or curl up in little balls, even as their leaders attempt to rally them for a defense of the castle, or an escape, or something.
The courtyard makes the keep look like an island of calm. A few bonfires still burn, and mercenaries cluster around them, their rivalries forgotten in the face of what surely must be an attack. A confused battle is waged in the gatehouse, with no one really sure who is one whose side. And outside the keep, they beg desperately to be let in.
Into this madness, you stride in. Caliwick waves his hand, and the iron-faced wood of the gates draws in the darkness for a brief moment, before collapsing into rust and rot. A few men attempt to flee, and find themselves impaled upon the lances of the knights. Others manage to kneel in time and are left kneeling as your forces advance into the courtyard. Most run deeper into the courtyard, shouting for someone, anyone to come. The demon is here! And his army!
Your Night Stalkers drag people forth, five or six at a time. Most are barely conscious, but they awaken soon enough. And they are given a choice. Usually, as the shadows clear away, one tries to be defiant. They taste delicious. Some, even with that example, still refuse to serve you. Still, about two-thirds of those brought before you join your ranks, staggering away to stand with the rest of the army.
After the Night Stalkers have taken all the easy targets, you begin to approach the bonfires. Here, there is a bit more resistance. Some of the men have blessed spears and swords, and it actually stings quite a bit. But no matter how painful the wounds, they are like mosquitos trying to slow down a dragon. Half join you, half feed you. The men at the doors of the keep, praying to be let in, join you eagerly, frantic to be gone from this darkness and terror.
You kick down the doors, the thick wood shattering from the massive force. There is a pause, then those still on their feet charge at you, with torches and swords and table legs and their bare hands. And your knights charge, lances lowered, hoofbeats pounding on the stone floor, while Caliwick soars above them. Fire rains down, lances run through them, and Desecrator sweeps through them in savage arcs. It is a slaughter, an incredibly one-sided one. You lost a pair of knights. Nearly two hundred men and women died in that hall.
Now you search the halls, scouring them for survivors. You find the servants the Night Stalkers terrorized, lying dead on the ground. You find an infirmary with a few groaning patients who swear to you. And you find the chambers of the Lord of Southbend. You find him within them, lying on his bed, a bottle of wine in one hand and a bottle of nightshade in the other.
Irritating. You head down to the basement and consider offering these slaves to the Gresh-spawn, although the eggs they implant will not hatch.
Name: Klx-Dryklfx
Time: 7.75 months
Physical Might: 96+6 ( -6 injuries, +15 meals)
Mental Might: ] 96+6 ( -6 injuries, +15 meals)
Cults
The Ceaseless Consumption
Members: 7 seducers and 77 peons split among 8 locations, 1 high seducer and 75 peons
Resources: 0
Power: 14 (5 spent worshipping you, 3 spent recruiting, 4 spent spreading rumors)
The Avar Society
Members: 1 seducer, 14 peons
Resources: 0 (+4 “donations”, -4 party)
Power: 2(2 spent throwing parties)
The Bloody Terror Cult in Southbend
Members: 8(5 Night-Stalkers, 3 servants)
Resources: 0
Power: 5 (2 spent making discord, 2 spent spying)
Fortresses
Canord
Strong walls (45), Deep moat (25), Thorn Wall (25), Weak wards (15), Traps (15) Demonic crops, plentiful mines, Strong aura of domination.
Avar
Basic Walls(25), Living Ward(15), Demonic Mud Moat (10)
Demonic Realm
1900 Peons
1 Doom-Seer, 2 Doom-Seekers
46 resources (-5 rescuing Lurrothel)
+20 power/week, + 15 resources/week
Demonic Armies
13 Reavers, 2 Doom-Seekers, 50 thralls, 100 zombies in Canord
The Broken – 828 chaff (54 thralls, 441 zombies, 227 skeletons, 17 wisp wights, 89 weeping sores), 583 light infantry (289 Spear-Thralls, 294 Sword-Thralls), 179 heavy infantry (28 Demon-Touched, 109 wisp-wretches, 42 heavy swordsman), 230 ranged (214 Archer-Thralls, 17 slingers), 19 mages (2 Doom-Seers, 17 Doom-Seekers), 334 heavy cavalry( 5 mounted god-slayers, 329 deathless knights), 18 infiltrators (18 Hunters), 33 support (18 Dark Priests, 15 Shapers), 10 siege (8 armored brutes, 2 crushers), 17 incorporeal(17 specters), 180 scouts (rangers), 17 flyers (17 Gresh-spawn) near Southbend
Barrow Bows – 200 scouts (rangers) in between Avar and Southbend
Champions
Kreth Woemaker
Physical might: 12 (+10 worship, - 8 corruption)
Mental might: 12 (+10 worship, - 8 corruption)
Other: Magic Cloak, worshipped by the Barrow Bows
Duthrax Soul-Render, First of the Thrall-Herds
Physical might: 9 + 1
Mental might: 5+ 1
Other: Duelist, skilled commander, zombie horse, Herald
Lurrothel, Weaver of Nightmares
Physical might: 0.1 (Injuries)
Mental might: 3(Injuries)
Other: Necromancer, skilled at wards and dream magic
Caliwick the Arch-Necromancer
Physical might: 2
Mental might: 11
Other: Necromancer, Soulbond, Living Legend
Artifacts
Desecrator
+6 physical, +6 mental
Bringer of unholy rot, Reanimator, Focus of Power
Magic Cloak
Unknown properties
Herald
+1 physical, + 1 mental
Inspiring song