The Sun Never Sets On Waaagh

For character narratives and in-character announcements. Moderators will be liberal in the removal of OOC posts and comments. Do not 'god mode' in the forums, if you can't do it on the field you can't do it here.
Forum rules
Moderators will be liberal in the removal of OOC posts and comments. Do not 'god mode' in the forums, if you can't do it on the field you can't do it here.
Post Reply
User avatar
Saris Fey-Branche
Posts: 71
Joined: 2012-01-11

The Sun Never Sets On Waaagh

Post by Saris Fey-Branche » 2014-02-10

[OOC- MASSIVE DISCLAIMER: This is an IC narrative written for the enjoyment of Darkon's players to provide a richer backdrop to the game. Direct IC responses are not appropriate. Unless your character is in Waaagh, in Chosen Blood or was present at the siege battle and lingered afterward this should be considered OOC information. Please PM me if you are not in Waaagh or Chosen Blood and you wish to participate. Don't be an *.]

Warboss Gutzmangul's heads lie in separate jars in the temporary office of Saris Fey-Branche, preserved and pickled. Seven of them in total. The majority of Waaagh's populace, of course, did not enjoy the benefits of such immortality.

The office of Chosen Blood's executive officer, a temporary field quarters in recently conquered territory, was otherwise as austere as the majority of their environs: orderly, clean and lacking in unnecessary ornamentation. Commander Saris sat at his desk in full battle armor, well maintained yet still bearing the heat scars of a recent direct fireball encounter. The drow's skin was a deep obsidian topped with short, slicked-back, bleach white hair. Crimson eyes in milky white orbs looked up curiously at the entrance of a human.

Magistrate Althalos was one of the native humans who had somehow managed to survive the ravages of orc occupation, a former minor dignitary of Harrumph, that failed state which had foolishly sought to live in equal cooperation with the goblinoids. Clearly an educated man, well dressed and eloquent, there was a renewed confidence in his bearing and a lack of fear which indicated that Althalos had yet had little personal interaction with Saris Fey-Branche.

"The First Shield has asked me to convey to you that he is eager to receive the first shipment of orc prisoners. Preparations have made to begin training them as front line shock troops in the wars to come." The pride in the bearing of Althalos did not falter, understandable when considering that up until recently he had no future to hope for and no past worth mentioning.

An even response, cold but with a subtle undercurrent of amusement. "The Lord Commander has decided upon an alternate course of action. We have concluded that the orcs and their ilk cannot be tamed, not without an excessive expenditure of resources best directed in support of the people. We have made other arrangements. He will still have access to those which have been conscripted for the jugging pits. Please convey my regrets to the First Shield."

Althalos stood still in pregnant silence, anticipatory, but there was no additional explanation forthcoming.

"Thank you... Lord Saris." Fear at last found its way into human's mannerisms. The magistrate turned without further word and strode from the office with purpose.

The mind of Saris Fey-Branche was a tessaract of unyielding principle and unflinching ruthlessness, an unbreachable bastion of purpose in a questioning world. Many preparations had been made in the weeks prior. With the capital of Waaagh at last in their possession the order was given out to Chosen Blood soldiers throughout the lands formerly controlled by the orcs.

Massive pyres had been constructed by the enslaved creatures. Many goblins rightly suspected their final purpose and either fled to the as-yet unoccupied territories or sought refuge in the slaughter of the arena. The orcs, with occasional exception, remained largely oblivious.

The purity of flame was the only answer, the only way to prevent the blood of the creatures from breeding a new generation of their kind. The executions began without warning and continued without pause, the bodies heaped one upon another, reaching toward the winter sky. The corpse-pyre flames were blinding, searing and unthinkably huge. Thousands upon thousands of them were slain without mercy, their remnants tossed into the flames.

The scent of their cooked, bisporus flesh was surprisingly pleasant to the senses. An almost floral, calming aroma which permeated the atmosphere. The ashes mixed in the air with the winter snow so that when the two came down they were as one, a grayish mix of precipitation and death. The pale sky met with the lumination of the blazing infernos so that night was as day, no difference between them. Heated air rising from the massive bonfires met with cold winter clouds, contracting and expanding. The effect produced a near-mesmerizing and continuous prismatic color shift in the sky. The complete end effect of the mass murder was shockingly captivating and utterly sublime.

Saris gazed out upon the fruits of their labors and was nearly overwhelmed at the beauty before him. The emptiness that the drow normally carried within his chest was replaced by elation, a certainty in the purity and goodness of his deeds and that of Chosen Blood. So many of the horrible beasts which once preyed upon the innocent were no more, their forms having ascended into the skies, at last purged of their folly in the flames.

Specicide. Yet, certainly there were parcels of land remaining, small pockets of the orcs and their kin yet allowed to exist. Such was the will of Lord Commander Valfryn Ken'Vir, but it mattered little. The work was done. Perhaps eventually the land, once again under the control of higher thinking species, could again foster progress, science, understanding and art. Perhaps, but by then the forces of Chosen Blood would have departed, their divine mission having long since taken them elsewhere.

Time seemed to both stretch and shrink and with the continuous burning of the pyres it became impossible to tell the changing of it. For days... for weeks? Impossible to tell, but the conflagrations continued to burn and the ash-snow continued to fall. Shifting rainbows in a murderous, bone-white sky heralded an abrupt and irrevocable change within the realm of Darkon.

Chosen Blood Officer

Post Reply

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 5 guests