In the town below the High King's keep, there had been riots. The Wardens of the Realm and the Royal Guard had joined with the town's garrison to bring the terrified, angry people under control, but as night fell, sporadic fires still cropped up and patrols were ambushed from the shadows. With that day's dawn, word had arrived of the fall of Girithlin, and the town had erupted. If the overlord's armies could not protect them from the demonic legions ravaging their lands, the provocateurs cried from every square, why pay him taxes or answer his levying calls? Most of these demagogues had been caught by late afternoon, and had died screaming in wicker men at sunset, but still the people fought with each other and their protectors.
In the keep, Conn brooded. The report he had recieved from Warden Sionn was far grimmer than the worst of the tales repeated by the yeomen below. Sionn had hidden himself away and witnessed the whole of the siege, the fall, and the sacking of Girithlin. He recounted how the brave but scant defenders had held the walls as long as they could before they were breached. How the armies from neighboring shires, gallently marching day and night to lift the siege, arrived mere moments before the gate was breeched, seemingly in the nick of time to save them. He told of how the enigmatic druids, so long unseen in Marverni lands, had spilled from the woods like a tide to support the thin green line of the High King's warriors. How their circles had called rains, plagues of insects, sounder upon sounder of noble boars, lightening bolts, and even stars from the heavens down to smite the endless legions of Abysia. How the steadfast warriors had held against the demons, and scattered their warbeasts to the four winds. How their meager force had held back the crazed and bloodthirsty fire warriors, even as the endless ranks of demonic warlocks skulking behind them called up the fires of Hell to consume all before them. He told of how it seemed that Girithlin would be the high point, where the Flaming Tide broke and receded. And then he told of the death of all hope.
With the hellbeasts of the Abysians in flight, and only the most crazed of their legions still pressing forward, it seemed that the handful of Marverni warriors would prevail. But then, above them... it appeared. The harbringer of despair. The Lord of the Smouldercone. The bringer of the end. The horrific living god of the fire demons, whose sign had hung over the groves of Carnutes these last months. Fhionnuisce. The Everburning One. And with its arrival, the Marverni knew terror, and death. The fires of the warlocks were nothing compared to the flames that then rained down upon them. The tribesmen fought for a few minutes more, then broke and fled. The Warden's report at this point became grim reading, as he recounted the brave warriors fleeing with the foul demon swooping and dipping over them, shrieking as fireballs slammed into their midst. How the druids' unexpected courage had vanished, and how they had melted into the woods as if they had never been there. How the Abysian god set the buildings of Girithlin aflame as it called its swarming children to it, leading them from one spot to another, and leaving nothing unburnt behind them. How the townsfolk's screams carried on the wind as the fire devils ravaged the once-proud steading, and how the demon-god's shrieks of unholy glee rose above even that. At this point, the High King had grown too disgusted to read further.
So. The easternmost holding of the Marverni people had fallen. Demons had ravaged another fortress, and the faith of the Marverni people in their liege was nearly at an end. The only good omen Conn could find in all this was that the vile sign of the Usurper of Near and Close had not been seen over Carnutes since the siege of Girithlin had began. As bad as the unrest in his homeland was now, it would be far worse had that foul sigil still glowed in the night sky. But Conn knew in his heart this was but a temporary respite. The world's end was drawing near. Fhionnuisce would return. First Marverni, and then all the world, would burn.
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Topic: Dominions3 PBEM - Round Six (Read 19318 times)